A Sister's War by Molly Green (best books to read for self improvement TXT) 📗

the locks … Dora reeled off the names of other pieces of vital equipment until Ronnie began to feel she could cram nothing more into her brain.

She didn’t remember a thing from yesterday, and today was no better. She felt sorry for Margaret, yet slightly comforted. Dora hadn’t been getting just at her and Jessica. She wondered how on earth she could get on the right side of Dora without having the rest of the girls accusing her of ‘sucking up’.

‘Ver-ron-eek, you take the tiller on the motor!’

Ronnie startled out of her reverie. This was awkward. None of the trainees had done any steering on their own.

Dora called out, ‘Take May with yer.’

That wouldn’t be a lot of help, Ronnie thought. May wouldn’t know any more than she did.

‘Can you remember what to do, Ronnie?’ May said, as the two girls made their way to the stern of the boat.

‘The one most important thing,’ Ronnie said furrowing her brow. ‘Always turn the tiller towards the thing you don’t want to hit. In other words, the opposite direction you would expect.’

‘Oh, yes, I remember that,’ May said, chuckling. ‘So nothing can go wrong, then?’

‘Don’t tempt fate,’ Ronnie said soberly, ‘or we’ll be in deep water – literally.’

To her surprise, Ronnie thoroughly enjoyed steering the narrowboat along the cut. That was until she realised there was quite a bit of traffic on the canal to negotiate, often accompanied by shouts and cheers and waving arms from the children who stared from the roofs of the passing boats.

May pointed. ‘Oh, look, Ron, at that man leading his horse to pull the boat – it’s not making half such a racket as our engine noise.’

Immediately Ronnie worried it was too heavy a load for the horse. But when she dared take her eye off the steering by sending quick glances over to the boater and his horse, she couldn’t see any sign that the animal was suffering.

‘We’re coming to the first lock, Ronnie,’ May said. ‘Dora said as it’s right next to the basin we need to breast up before going through it.’

To Ronnie’s relief Dora appeared, and with the help of Jessica tied the two boats side by side, all the time calling out instructions.

Ronnie’s heart beat hard. There were two pairs of colourfully painted boats behind her, and men shouting, though she couldn’t make out what they were saying. They sounded annoyed. Probably only too aware they’d be held up by a bunch of amateurs – especially women, Ronnie thought, her frown of concentration deepening. Oh, if only she knew all the unwritten rules of the cut.

A man of about sixty was talking to Margaret and pointing to the paddles on the lock. Margaret was nodding, so Ronnie hoped she was taking it all in. Frankly, she was worried about her. Margaret was so thin she didn’t look strong enough to work the heavy locks, or indeed a lot of the other jobs that constantly needed attention. As she watched, Dora joined the two of them and Ronnie was amused to see that Percy, if that was the lock-keeper, was holding the conversation, not Dora.

‘Me and Percy’ll work the lock,’ Dora called out, as Ronnie drew the boats closer. ‘Yous all need ter watch close as yous’ll be doin’ it termorrer.’ She looked up at Ronnie. ‘You and May listen to what I tell yer when the two boats are in the lock.’

Ronnie held her breath, her pulse racing, as she steered both boats into the lock that Dora had cautioned them against. This was the tricky bit.

Gently does it. Don’t rush.

Ready to sigh with relief when both boats were finally in position as far as she could make out, May’s shout startled her.

‘Ron, pull away!’

The warning was too late. Ronnie flinched as a loud scraping noise set her nerves on edge. Then a thump. She’d hit the side of the lock. Furiously, she jerked the tiller.

‘Wrong way!’ May bellowed.

The motor rammed again into the side. Ronnie thought she could hear Dora cursing above the noise of the water pouring into the lock. Biting back tears of frustration, she turned the tiller to the left this time, and miraculously the motorboat pulled away from the edge, Penelope bobbing a few feet away at the side of them.

Taking what seemed like hours but was only minutes, the pair of boats finally passed through the lock and into the calmer waters of the canal. Ronnie swallowed hard, bracing herself for Dora’s showdown. But surprisingly, when the trainees had formed a group on the towpath Dora merely grunted.

‘Yer’ll know better next time, Ver-ron-eek. You in’t the first nor the last wench ter do that on yer first time. So all of yous take note.’ She glared at the others, then struck a match to light her pipe. ‘Both boats’ll need paintin’ but it in’t the end of the world. They never give us lot the best boats anyways.’

‘Do you need any help, Jessica?’ Ronnie asked as she stepped into the tiny kitchen space that evening. The table was strewn with vegetable peelings, an opened tin of baked beans, a jar of Marmite and a packet of oatmeal. A saucepan of something savoury was simmering on the stove.

‘I’m more or less finished,’ Jessica said, her face in full concentration as she turned the page of a cookery book. ‘But it’s been a nightmare trying to find everything I need. I wanted some stewing steak but of course that’s impossible to get hold of these days.’

‘What are you making?’

‘Goulash.’ Jessica looked up with a tight smile. ‘But I fear for it.’

‘So do I,’ Ronnie giggled. ‘I’ve never even heard of it.’

‘Really?’ Jessica slightly curled her lip. ‘I thought everyone knew goulash – it’s Hungarian.’

‘Well, that’s why. I’ve never eaten anything Hungarian.’ Ronnie gave a self-conscious laugh. ‘Have you done a lot of cooking?’

‘Only got my certificate for completing a cordon bleu course in Paris,’ Jessica said. ‘And before you ask, a cordon bleu cook has attained