While the Storm Rages, page 11
‘Well, where are we going to sleep?’
‘In the cabin. Unless you’d rather stay on deck?’
‘No chance. Besides, Delilah needs to be warm, doesn’t she?’ And he stomped below deck, presumably Noah thought, to grab the best spot to bunk down.
‘Any thoughts on where we could moor for the night?’ he asked Clem, who was trying to read the map in the dark.
‘Course I have,’ she replied. ‘Old Deer Park. It should be coming up on our left.’
She wasn’t wrong either, as despite the absence of light, they could still make out a vast rolling meadow, beside a bank that would be simple to moor against.
‘I hope the deer here aren’t old,’ Noah joked. ‘Because they’re the only ones that Frank and Winn would probably bother chasing.’
‘Oh I think they’ve had enough excitement for today,’ Clem added, before folding the map precisely and carefully. ‘Now let’s get to land before anything else goes wrong.’
Noah didn’t need telling twice, feeling tension in every part of his body until Queen Maudie was secured and he could turn off the engine for the night.
It wasn’t especially cold on the riverbank once they’d disembarked, but the day had been warm, and it had spoilt them. Now that the sun had gone, they missed it and felt keenly the disappointment of not being as far along as they should be. Their mission was still so far from complete.
Noah was the coldest of them all. He still hadn’t shaken off the effects of his dip, and while Winn had the bravery to edge to the very fringes of the fire they’d lit on the bank, Noah liked the hairs on his legs to go unsinged. His tiredness made his thoughts messy and difficult to order, and as a result he felt an array of difficult emotions: confusion, doubt, loneliness, as well as a lingering, stomach-churning fear that he had never experienced before in his life. Fear that he couldn’t possibly succeed in his plan, fear that he had embroiled others due to his bravado, but most importantly, fear for what would happen to Dad if he fell short. This took him to a place that was as dark as his surroundings, and he sought to distract himself by picking up the last of the fish, and chewing slowly, before offering it to one of the kittens. Again Big Col had not let them down, setting about his fishing task with gusto. The only time he had shown any sense of irritation was when anyone offered to help.
‘Do I look like I need a hand?’ he said, affronted, when Clem offered.
‘Clearly not. I just thought if you taught me, then we could all eat even quicker.’
‘Yeah well, think again,’ he’d replied, before mumbling something derogatory that Clem thankfully didn’t hear.
He was right though, single-handedly delivering fish after fish with startling regularity. Noah watched with irritation as well as deep gratitude.
‘What do you think your mum will be doing now?’ he asked Clem.
‘I don’t like to think about it,’ she replied. ‘She’ll probably have gone to the police. What about yours?’
‘Same. Plus pacing, swearing and cursing.’
‘We shouldn’t have done it, should we?’ Clem sighed. ‘Or we should at least have left a note, so they didn’t worry.’
It was hard to argue with that. But Noah tried anyway, despite the horrid images of a distressed Mum looping in his mind. ‘Could we have managed that? Really? They’d probably have followed us to Battersea and caught us, seen the dogs were still alive, had them put down and THEN given us the rollicking of our lives.’
‘It’ll be nothing compared to the one we get when we finally go home.’
Noah shuddered. Especially as Dad wouldn’t be there. He always managed to dampen Mum’s fire when it was raging at its most savage. ‘What will your mum be doing?’ he asked Big Col.
‘Mum probably won’t have realised I’m not there. Not if there’s still gin in the bottle.’ He said the last bit quietly, without looking up, but Noah and Clem heard it all the same.
Big Col picked at the bones of a fish before letting a kitten nibble his fingers.
‘We should give them names,’ he said.
‘Who?’
‘The kittens, idiot.’
Noah thought about it. ‘Wonder what their owners called them.’
‘I doubt they called them anything,’ said Clem, ‘if they abandoned them in a flipping boat.’
‘No owners. Not even any parents,’ mused Big Col.
‘Must have been an immaculate conception,’ laughed Clem, which sparked Noah’s imagination.
‘Well, that makes naming them easy,’ he said. ‘That one’s Joseph, and the other’s Mary.’
They all laughed.
‘But we haven’t checked what sex they are, have we?’ said Clem.
‘Does it matter? It’s not like they’re staying with us. We just have to keep them safe and fed until the Duchess takes them in.’
‘If we ever get there,’ said Big Col.
‘When we get there,’ corrected Noah, making himself say it. ‘There is no if.’
But did he believe that? Not as much as he wanted to, but it had been the longest and most tiring of days.
‘We’d better put the fire out before it attracts attention.’ Clem said.
‘What, from bombers or the police?’ Big Col asked.
‘Either. Both. I don’t have the energy to run from anyone right now.’
They slept. Fitfully, though they had done their utmost to make the cabin feel as cosy as they could. The stove glowed all night, to keep Delilah warm rather than them, though the dogs took advantage too, stretching out like they were by the hearth at home. Noah watched as Frank laid his aged, grey muzzle on Winn’s flank, noting how rapidly the dachshund’s ribs rose and fell in comparison, like even resting was tiring for him. Noah worried about the little dog. He may not have been his, but he still cared for him, and could only hope against hope, that this journey wouldn’t be too much for his ageing bones to cope with.
He could see it was on Clem’s mind too: she glanced in pity at Frank while she laid out old, musty blankets to lie on and folded the oversized mac into a pillow for Noah, not that he would accept it, slipping it by her blanket while she wrestled with an old tin of powdered milk for the kittens.
‘Do you think this will be all right for them?’ he asked. It looked old, the tin rusted and the lid reluctant to let them inside, as if in warning.
‘We don’t have any choice,’ Clem replied. ‘If we want them to sleep we need their bellies to be full. I don’t think I could entertain a hungry kitten all night, could you?’
Noah shuddered at the thought and fetched the water from Dad’s cannister, shocked as he saw how little was left inside it.
‘We’re going to be out of water by tomorrow,’ he said grimly, though he didn’t ration it for the poor kittens. He watched as they drained every drop from the bowl, and if he needed evidence that he was doing the right thing, here it was in front of him. It made him take a walk outside, to check on Samson, and found him in a happy mood, head thrown back in joy as he saw the boy approach. The joy turned to ecstasy as Noah’s fingers scratched behind the donkey’s ears, feeling Samson push his neck further into his hands, as if telling him to press harder. How could anyone abandon such a beautiful animal? Noah thought to himself, and Samson seemed to read his mind, braying softly in agreement, before rubbing his head against the boy’s face with clumsy affection.
By the time he eventually left Samson and padded inside, the kittens had settled, balled up together against the warmth of Frank’s belly, and the sight of it made the pressure of expectation build in him again. They had a long way to go, and he couldn’t let any of them down, whether they were animal or human. When he slept, finally, he dreamed of wrong turns and dead ends: and of serpents rising from the Thames and threatening to swallow them whole.
Little wonder then, that he was already awake when Samson decided to do his finest cockerel impression, braying incessantly as the sun rose. As alarm clocks went, it was effective, but very annoying.
‘Put a cork in it, will you?’ Big Col yelled. Even Delilah seemed annoyed, tail thrashing in her sack.
Noah made himself see it differently, positively, pulling himself to his feet and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
‘’S’perfect,’ he said.
‘Are you soft in the head?’
‘Not a bit. Means we can get moving while the river’s quiet.’
‘Cos no one else is stupid enough to be up yet.’
‘Yes, but think about it. By now my mum, Clem’s too, they’ll definitely have been to the police. They’ll be looking for us, and if they realise the boat’s gone too, well, it won’t take long till they’re on to us.’
Clem didn’t like what she was hearing, but she had another thing on her mind too. A rather important thing. ‘We are going to have to wait a while though, Noah.’
‘Why?’
‘Low tide,’ she replied flatly. ‘Look. Set off now and we’ll run aground.’
Noah could have kicked himself. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He was the sailor round here allegedly, but had left himself wide open to abuse from Big Col, which came quickly.
‘Call yourself Captain?’ he ranted. ‘You are absolutely clueless. If we listen to you, we’ll sink before the day’s out.’
Fortunately, Clem turned the argument around.
‘This means you can go back to sleep though, doesn’t it? Without the engine keeping you awake. And while you do that, me and Noah can tend to Samson, then walk the dogs, tire them out so we can make better progress once the waters rise again.’
Big Col moaned and tutted, but wasn’t going to turn down the chance of more sleep, which left Clem to pull Noah and the dogs out into the early dawn sunlight.
It wasn’t seven o’clock yet, but there was already power in the sun, the kind that made it not only hot, but sticky. Noah was struggling to remember when the clouds had last emptied, but knew it couldn’t be long till it not only rained, but poured.
‘You hungry?’ he asked.
‘Not for fish. Not at this time.’
Clem had a point, so they walked slowly around the park, enjoying the dogs’ innocence as they smelled every bush and tree they passed. They enjoyed the absence of Big Col’s complaints even more, Noah walking on with Winn, when Frank’s legs chose to take him no further.
By the time he reached Queen Maudie again, he was relieved to see that the water levels had risen, along with Big Col, whose mood was just about bearable. ‘Where’ve you been?’ he asked.
‘Tea with the queen,’ Noah replied. ‘She sends her regards.’
‘I think you should have your disguise on if we’re going to get going.’ Clem smiled, passing him his dad’s mac. The thought of the mac’s heavy material against his already clammy arms made Noah feel uncomfortable, and his face showed it.
‘Or, I could drive for a while?’ Clem added, perching the hat on her head. Noah rammed his arms speedily into the coat. This was his dad’s boat, which meant no one was Captain apart from him.
But as his skin stuck to the material, and his scalp sweated beneath the retrieved cap, he realised it might not just be him overheating soon. He worried Queen Maudie would soon be protesting beneath his feet again, her belly groaning and straining.
‘Do you think you could work out exactly how many miles it is to Windsor?’ he asked, without trying to sound perturbed.
‘I thought you didn’t want details, just an adventure.’
‘Well maybe I’ve changed my mind.’
Clem smiled. ‘I can try,’ she replied, mind already whirring, but it will be a guess at best. Sorry.’
Noah felt his throat tighten. Guessing, when they were in a boat that was already struggling, felt like one heck of a gamble, and unless they learned how to walk on water, he doubted they would cover the remaining distance in the way they were all expecting.
31
Noah was wracked with nerves, his grip on the barely opened throttle so tight that it felt like the engine wasn’t even engaged. They seemed to bob on the water rather than part it.
‘Are you planning on getting us there today?’ Big Col demanded.
‘Course I am.’
‘Well, you might think about speeding up a bit then. There’s people on the bank walking quicker than us.’
Noah looked to land and saw Big Col was right. There were a couple of young lads taking great delight in not only their own speed, but the Maudie’s lack of it. Noah pulled his cap down lower as his cheeks burned.
‘Well?’ Big Col prompted. ‘Are you going to do something about it?’
‘Not if we’re going to hit Richmond Weir at the right time,’ said Clem, swooping to Noah’s rescue.
‘Richmond what?’
‘Weir,’ she went on. ‘Because we’re getting to the end of the tidal part of the Thames.’
Big Col shrugged ignorantly.
‘So, they installed a set of gates over the river, which close to monitor the water levels.’
‘It’s like being back in school!’ he moaned.
‘Which means,’ Clem said, exasperated, ‘that the gates are only open around two hours either side of high tide. What Noah is doing, is timing it so we hit Richmond when the gates are open. Time it wrong, and we’d have to go through the lock.’
‘And what’s the problem with that?’
‘Well it may be busy, for starters, which would slow us down. Plus the lock keeper might ask too many questions about why we don’t have an adult with us. Not everyone’s going to be as drunk as Tipsy Nev.’
That seemed to shut up Big Col for a while, and bought Noah more time to ease Maudie there, rather than risk her overheating so early in the day. They passed Isleworth Ait, Clem naming birds as they circled and landed, and as the island fell behind them, they caught their first glance of Richmond Lock and Weir, Noah’s chest filling with joy when he saw that Clem was right and the barriers stood open, allowing them to flow through. He even left the throttle open slightly, paranoid that as they approached, the gates would fall and trap them, slicing Dad’s beloved boat in two. Only when the bridge was behind them, did Noah truly relax, wiping the sweat that had pooled beneath his captain’s hat.
Clem could see the nerves he was carrying.
‘You know, at some point, you’re going to have to tell Big Col the truth,’ she said.
‘About what?’
‘About the fact that the boat isn’t up to the job. I mean, there will be other locks we can use as an excuse to slow down, but you have to be honest, we’re crawling along here and it’s already taken longer than we thought!’
That was it. The mixture of heat and nerves and pressure was too much for Noah.
‘Is there somewhere else you both urgently need to be?’ he spat. ‘Would you rather be on that chuffing train being sent to God knows where for God knows how long? Cos if you would, then leave Frank and Delilah with me and I’ll drop you on the bank.’
‘For goodness’ sake, Noah, why are you so defensive? I know this isn’t a racing car, but look at what’s happening. We’ve not been sailing an hour and listen to the noise it’s making? We were going much faster yesterday. That’s all I’m saying. So if you’d rather I left, then I will. Me AND Frank.’ She made to make a dramatic turn, before realising she had more to say.
‘But don’t forget you need me, Noah. You might not realise it, and you certainly won’t admit it, but you do. You might think you have all these big ideas, but it’s me, it’s always me that makes them actually work. So if I leave now, it’s on your head. You’ll either be shipwrecked, capsized or arrested by the time the day is out.’
Her words were an arrow to Noah, puncturing him immediately. And he knew deep down that she was right.
‘You know I don’t want that,’ he garbled, before she could move any further. ‘It’s just...’ he checked over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. Aside from two dogs, two kittens and a behatted donkey eyeing them through the window, they definitely were. ‘. . . well, you’re right. I think she is going to blow again. Listen to her. You can almost hear her moaning.’
Clem listened, but heard nothing except the same guttural roar that had filled her ears since they first started her up.
‘Do you think there’s anything you can do to fix it?’
‘Only by giving her continuous rests. She’s overheating. Can’t remember the last time we took her this far.’
‘She’s not actually alive, Noah.’
Noah covered his ears in mock horror. ‘Shut up!’ he hissed. ‘If she hears you she’ll really throw a tantrum.’
But Clem’s mind was already whirring, forming contingency plans for how to invent rest periods whilst keeping Big Col calm, but also what they would do when the boat did give up entirely.
‘I know what you’re doing,’ Noah sighed. ‘You’re imagining how you’re going to dig me out of whatever’s going to happen. Even though it hasn’t happened yet.’
‘Somebody’s got to,’ she smiled, her voice disappearing beneath Maudie’s growl. But it didn’t matter that Noah couldn’t hear. He was thinking too, trying to work out what Dad did whenever the boat overheated. He wouldn’t have just pulled over and waited for it to cool. That wasn’t his way at all. Dad would’ve sorted it. So why couldn’t he do that too? He was made of the same stuff, wasn’t he?
But no matter how hard he thought, inspiration was nowhere to be found.
All he knew was they couldn’t pull over yet, not without a mutiny from their most volatile crew member (and his snake). So, tentatively, Noah made them chug pathetically onwards, much to the Maudie’s throaty disgust.
Lord it was hot. By early afternoon there was no air. It felt like they were sailing down the Nile, not on the outskirts of Twickenham. Their clothes stuck to them, tongues lolled from mouths, even Samson was still. The only movement the occasional whip of his tail to remove a particularly obstinate fly. They didn’t even get excited by the sight of Eel Pie Island to their right. Clem tried to enthuse them, telling of the slimy pie served there in the nineteenth century that gave it its name, but despite their hunger, the boys didn’t respond or show interest.
