A Sister's War Molly Green (e book reader pdf .txt) 📖

I want yer in yer places. May can steer the butty, Jessica come with me, and you, Ver-ron-eek, I’ll give you some lighter chores, seein’ as how you’ve had the accident. Yer can wash out the buckets, fill the water cans, and give a thorough clean to the butty. That means polishin’ the brasses and the kettle and anythin’ else needs polishin’. Yer’ll find Brasso and such behind the folding table.’ She stared at Ronnie. ‘D’yer think yer can handle it?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘And after, it’ll be time for you to make us a cup of cocoa. Meantime, we’ll fight the storm. Then if yer up to it this afternoon yer can clean the engine room.’ Dora withdrew her head.

Ronnie pulled a face when she’d disappeared. Dora had shown the trainees round the engine room on their first day and run through the engine maintenance, but it had been difficult to digest at the time. She vaguely remembered the mudbox – a filter to do with the water-cooling intake from the canal – and the contents hadn’t looked at all pleasant. She gave a sigh. She supposed it was important to know what needed doing on both boats, but if Dora’s idea of those jobs was that they were light, Ronnie hated the thought of the heavy chores.

Chapter Thirteen

Ronnie’s attention was taken up by May, who was at the tiller, steering Penelope as the pair of boats made their way along the canal towards Fenny Stratford, where Dora said they could replenish their water cans and buy food. May was singing a folk song Ronnie recognised – ‘The Ash Grove’. She used to sing in class at school, or rather attempt to. May had a sweet voice, reminding her of Suzy. She bit her lip. No matter how friendly some of these girls were, they couldn’t begin to take the place of her sisters, but they were doing their bit for the war effort and she’d elected to do the same. She mustn’t compare them.

‘That was lovely,’ Ronnie said, joining May on the small rear deck. ‘You sound happy.’

‘What’s “happy”?’ May turned to her. ‘I don’t know anyone who’s happy, do you?’ When Ronnie didn’t answer she went on, ‘But I suppose it’s a damn sight better than waitress work, on your legs for hours with hardly a break, dealing with customers who haven’t a clue how knackered you are—’ She broke off, chewing her bottom lip. ‘Some of the men thinking they could reach out and touch anywhere on your body – like it was their right because they were paying your wages. One bastard actually grabbed my bosom when I was waiting at his table.’

Ronnie’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, no. Whatever did you do?’

‘He was looking up at me, daring me to challenge him. I swiped him on the face.’ She gave a short mirthless laugh. ‘I couldn’t help it. Filthy bugger. He immediately demanded to speak to the manageress who was a horrible old spinster called Miss Lovedale – can you believe she had such a name? He told her an outright lie – that he’d merely complained that the poached egg was hard and could he have another one, and that’s when she – meaning me – suddenly slapped his face. Miss Lovedale – I’ll never forget her twisted mouth – looked at me and said, “Did you slap the gentleman’s face, Miss Parsons?” I said, “Yes, but—” “There are no buts,” she practically spat at me, and refused to let me explain what really happened. Then she said, “We will not tolerate such behaviour in the company. Please go and collect your things and leave immediately.” I opened my mouth to say something but she shut me up. Then he had the nerve to say to her, “Oh, madam, I didn’t want the young lady to lose her job.”’ May snorted. ‘Miss Lovedale said, “I’m afraid it’s the rules. The customer must always come first and I can only apologise on her behalf.” If looks could kill I should’ve died right there on the spot. So I was sacked.’

‘Someone else must have seen what happened,’ Ronnie said. ‘One of the other waitresses.’

May shrugged. ‘We was busy. They probably didn’t even notice. Though there was two customers – gossiping women who stopped immediately they heard what was going on. They could’ve said something. You’d think women would stick up for one another, wouldn’t you?’ She paused. ‘Women can be bitches. We’ve had some of that here in the last few days, I reckon.’ She looked ahead and turned the tiller in the opposite direction the motor in front was taking, then looked back at Ronnie. ‘How about you? What made you join?’

Ronnie briefly told her she’d thought about the Land Army until she’d seen the boatwomen on Pathé News.

‘It’s okay if we all get along,’ May said. ‘But I think there’s trouble brewing in Persephone.’

‘With Angela?’

May nodded. ‘Sally has hinted as much. Margaret wouldn’t say boo to a goose, so she’s not made any comment. But that Angela – she’s a little madam. I wouldn’t trust her further than I could throw her. And as she’s quite stocky I shan’t even try.’ She chuckled. ‘No, the sooner I finish training, the better. We’ll have much more room to move so we won’t get on each other’s nerves the way we do at the moment.’ She adjusted the steering again, then keeping her eyes fixed ahead, said, ‘I’m so glad she’s not in our little team.’

‘So’m I,’ Ronnie said with feeling.

‘Is there anything more to eat, Ron? I’m really hungry.’

‘I’m going to suggest I make something for lunch,’ Ronnie said, ‘as I’ve finished everything Dora asked before I tackle the engine room.’

‘I think that was rotten of her when you’ve banged your head so badly,’ May said. ‘Don’t do it if you’re too tired.’

It wasn’t anything fancy – just sardines on toast followed by tinned rice pudding – but to Ronnie’s chagrin not one girl admired or