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.Nulli Secundus -
'Second to None'
by Terence Cardwell
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Chapter
Ten - Unwanted
The River Trent was a calm, placid waterway at this time
of year. It was used by barges and boats of all shapes
and sizes to transport coal from the mines to the
industries of England, as well as farm produce, timber,
food stuffs of all kinds, and a wide range of other
products from the factories.
After heavy rains the river was a swirling mass of
whirlpools, flooding over its banks in places, damaging
property, drowning sheep and cattle should they get too
close to the raging torrents.
The river was born in the hills of North Staffordshire,
in central England near Stoke on Trent, flowing through
Nottingham, by which time it had been joined by the
tributaries, Rivers Tame, Mease, Dove, Derwent, and
Soar, carrying a substantial amount of flood waters at
times of heavy rain.
By the time it exits into the Humber in northern
Lincolnshire, it is a hundred and seventy miles long
where it joined the River Ouse.
During severe winters it was known to freeze over, and
people ice skated on its surface.
Near Newark, north of Nottingham, it separated into two,
creating a calm backwater on one side that offered a
safe haven for boats to moor and tie up to the bank.
People lived on the boats permanently and rarely moved.
Among these was a long, well maintained barge with two
gangplanks, one forward and the other aft, connecting it
to the shore. the barge was painted dark blue with white
and red trim, and its hand rails were highly polished,
shining in the morning sunlight. On the cabin sides in
gold letters were painted the words ‘British Waterways’,
and beneath that was the name ‘River Lady - Waterways
Inspector’. The roof was scattered with plant pots of
geranium, ivy, petunias, cyclamen, and ferns of
different types, giving it a homely appeal. Lines were
strung across the stern of the boat where washing
flapped in the breeze.
Three children were running up and down the gangways,
holding onto the side ropes as they went, giggling and
laughing as they chased each other.
They were Annie Lawson’s children. Since leaving her
husband she had fled to the doubtful sanctuary of the
poorhouse. She had continued her life along its rocky
pathway. Vowing never to return to her husband, she had
left the poorhouse and taken to the road with her three
children, Ted, Annie, and Sonny, her youngest. Wearing
her heart on her sleeve she had moved into a
relationship with another publican. She had left him and
was now setting her cap at a third try at marriage.
In the cabin of the barge Annie was pleading with her
father. ‘But, Dad, if you don’t take them, he won’t have
me.’
Arthur North, her father, worked for the British
Waterways. His responsibility was to inspect the river
banks and levees for damage, cruising up and down at his
own discretion. He had been moored at his favourite
location near Newark for the past four weeks.
‘He told me he would put up with Francis and Ted but not
the rest, and if I got rid of them he would marry me.’
‘But you’re already married,’ Arthur replied in a
concerned voice.
‘Only to that pig in the pub. I’m never going near him
again,’ Annie responded. ‘As far as I’m concerned he’s
dead and doesn’t count. Anyway, nobody would know.’
‘Well, I don’t like the idea; and besides, the Waterways
wouldn’t let me keep children on the boat. I could get
the sack,’ Arthur replied, trying to control his anger.
‘No you wouldn’t, and besides they would never know, and
they couldn’t care less if they did know. Please, Dad, I
need this chance. I’ll take them back in a year or two
when I’ve settled in.’
‘I’m no good at raising kids, I’m too old. I’ll be
retiring soon; and besides, you’re the one that keeps
having them. Tell him if he wants you he can have the
kids as well.’ Arthur wiped his moustache and took
another drink of his home-made beer.
‘He won’t have ’em, I’m telling you. If you don’t take
’em I’ll leave them at the workhouse till I’m ready,
they’ll raise ’em,’ Annie retorted, frustrated that her
father would not take the children and hoping the threat
might change his mind.
‘No. I’ve told you no, look after your own kids,’ Arthur
replied, unwavering.
‘Well, bugger you,’ Annie snapped, picking up baby
Francis and walking to the cabin door and out onto the
back deck. ‘You kids get your backsides over here,’ she
called to the children, who were looking over the rails
at a circle of fish.
The children ran obediently to their mother, who had
walked down the gangplank. Young Annie tried to take her
hand but she brushed it aside.
Arthur followed Annie on deck and stood watching his
daughter’s indifferent behaviour. He looked at young
Annie with her dark hair in pigtails, her sweet little
round face, at the age of five almost angelic. Her
younger brother William was three, and clung tightly to
young Annie’s hand, looking at his mother in
bewilderment. Ted, the eldest of the children who was
seven, followed behind them seeming unconcerned about
what was happening.
‘Well, it’s off to the workhouse for you lot,’ she said
in a matter-of-fact tone and walked away, her back to
her father.
Arthur looked at the children again and his
determination wavered. ‘They wouldn’t cost much to
feed,’ he considered. ‘Perhaps they could do a little
work to pay their way. And Annie’s right, the Waterways
couldn’t give a damn whether I’ve got kids or not. But
damn, I’ve raised my kids, why start again?’
Annie was some distance away and nearly out of range
when he shouted, ‘Hang on a minute, wait there.’
Annie was wiping away tears. The children also looked as
if they were about to burst into tears. She stopped and
turned around as Arthur walked towards her.
‘How long did you say they would be here for?’ he asked.
‘A year, maybe two, depending on when I can talk him
round,’ Annie replied though her tears.
Arthur knelt down, taking the hands of Ted and young
Annie in his.
‘How would you like to live with your Grandad?’ he
smiled at them.
‘Oh, yes please,’ young Annie responded, wrapping her
arms around his neck. William nodded his head in
agreement, not sure what to make of these events.
‘Can we catch fish?’ Ted asked, excited at the idea.
‘You certainly can— and catch some rabbits, maybe,’
Arthur replied, warming to the idea.
‘We’ll have our own boat and we’ll water your plants
every day,’ young Annie said exuberantly.
Arthur stood. His daughter kissed him on the cheek.
‘Thanks, Dad, I knew you’d help,’ she said, giving him a
hug. She turned and walked away without any goodbyes for
her children.
Arthur felt the pain of their neglect. ‘Come on kids,
let’s have a look at your new home.’— ‘Such grand kids
and yet they have so little love, poor little mites,’ he
muttered to himself.
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