Voyage of the Sparrowhawk Page 12

  Lotti squealed. Frank gazed at the ceiling. Would this help or make things worse?

  ‘What has started?’ asked Jean Lepage.

  ‘Puppies!’ breathed Lotti.

  Jean Lepage gave up. So the boy had no passport? He seemed happy enough. So the people on the Sparrowhawk were eccentric, possibly mad? This was not a reason for not coming into France. Frankly, thought Jean Lepage, feeling a sneeze coming on, the world had bigger problems.

  ‘Through the harbour to the basin, there is a lock at the far end on the right which will take you on to the canal. Please leave immediately, there are more boats coming in. Welcome to France.’

  The sneeze caught Jean on the quayside by the Sparrowhawk, and he stopped to blow his nose. Putting his handkerchief away, he remembered Lotti’s face as she told him there were puppies. It had worn a look of pure wonder. When, after all these years of war, had he last seen that?

  Throughout the day, whenever he thought of the Sparrowhawk, Jean Lepage smiled.

  *

  Back on board, Lotti was feeling triumphant.

  ‘See how right we were to bring Elsie?’ she said to Frank. ‘Clever dog! Perfect timing!’

  ‘All right, all right,’ grumbled Frank. ‘Here, take these blinking papers. I never want to see them again.’

  With a wide grin, Lotti took the documents and shoved them into a drawer in the galley. Then, with infinite care, Frank steered the Sparrowhawk through the busy harbour towards the lock, while in the cabin, Ben and Lotti hovered with Federico by the door to the workshop.

  ‘Where’s Elsie?’ whispered Lotti.

  ‘On the berth,’ said Ben. ‘She’s made a sort of nest, like she did before the storm.’

  ‘How do you know it’s not another storm nest?’

  ‘It’s just different.’

  ‘Can we look?’

  ‘Maybe we should leave her …’

  ‘But I want to see …’

  Very quietly, so as not to disturb Elsie, Lotti and Ben tiptoed into Nathan’s workshop, Lotti with her hand on Federico’s collar …

  Frank guided the Sparrowhawk under a rotating bridge and through the lock. About a hundred yards on, he saw a small hotel set back from the canal, with mooring rings in the bank. He stopped and secured the Sparrowhawk and went into the hotel to speak to the hotelier, a fierce but friendly widow called Madame Royère. Then he ordered a coffee and a sandwich, sat down and wrote a note.

  The door of the workshop was half open when he returned to the Sparrowhawk. In the grey light of the fading afternoon, he saw the outlines of the children kneeling on the floor with Federico, Elsie on the berth. Lotti looked up and saw him.

  ‘There are three puppies already,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll have to take one, Frank, when they’re big enough and can leave Elsie.’

  ‘I’d like that.’ Frank smiled.

  Lotti turned away. He watched them a while longer, then picked up his rucksack from where he’d left it in the galley, tucked his note into the fold-down table and left the Sparrowhawk.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Ben found Frank’s note when he went into the cabin to light the stove for tea after the fifth and final puppy was born. He brought it back into the workshop to Lotti, and they read it together kneeling by Nathan’s berth.

  I’m not one for goodbyes, as you might guess, Frank had written on the hotel notepaper. But I wanted to thank you. If you’d told me a week ago I’d be crossing the Channel on a narrowboat, I’d have said you were daft. But you’ve shown me what’s possible, and you’ve reminded me what’s important too. So I’m not going back to England just yet. Jim can take care of the Starling. I’m going north to Belgium instead, to find Jack’s grave. The landlady of the hotel knows you’re here and will help with anything you need. She speaks English and I told her something of your story. She’s very impressed. She should be.

  Frank

  PS: the hotel is called La Belle Ecluse. Apparently, that means the beautiful lock. Sounds better in French – like your song, Charlie.

  ‘It’s very him,’ said Lotti, after she and Ben had read it together. ‘I mean, I can’t imagine him saying goodbye, it’s true. And it’s a very kind note. Beautiful, really. And I’m glad he’s going to Belgium. But I’ll miss him.’

  ‘And now we’re alone.’ Ben swallowed, thinking of the task ahead without Frank’s solid presence beside him.

  ‘Not exactly alone,’ laughed Lotti. ‘Not with seven dogs! Oh, Ben, look at them! Their little squashed noses and their little pink feet! And isn’t Elsie clever? She knows exactly what to do.’

  Lotti leaned with her elbows on the mattress, gazing in rapture at the five tiny creatures, four black and one toffee, stumbling and clambering over each other as Elsie licked them clean.

  Federico climbed into Lotti’s lap and nuzzled her neck jealously.

  ‘You’re clever too,’ she whispered, hugging him. ‘The four little black ones are just like Elsie, but the tiny toffee one is going to be exactly like you. Look, she even has your ears! I’m going to call her Delphine, because it means dolphin and she was almost born at sea.’

  ‘You can’t tell it’s a girl yet,’ objected Ben.

  ‘I can,’ said Lotti. ‘I know. What shall we call the others?’

  Ben looked round the workshop for inspiration. His eyes fell on the collection of Dickens novels in the bookcase, which Nathan had read out loud to him and Sam, over and over for years.

  ‘Pip,’ he said. ‘From Great Expectations. And Dodger, of course, from Oliver Twist, and Fred from A Christmas Carol, and Boz, which was Dickens’ own nickname. Do you think we can touch them?’

  He reached out a hand to Elsie, as if asking her permission, and she licked it. Very gently, he laid a finger on the soft warm body of one of the black puppies and caught his breath.

  ‘I can feel its heartbeat …’ Then, with a touch of sadness, ‘I wish Nathan could see this.’

  ‘But he can,’ said Lotti softly. ‘They all can – Nathan and Mama and Papa. They’re right here watching with us. Can’t you feel them?’

  They sat very still, hardly breathing, so that in the workshop the only sound was the puppies’ mewling and the steady beat of rain on the roof, and Ben could feel it, something magic in the air like you get in very old churches, or libraries, or empty houses which people have really loved.

  ‘I have to tell you something,’ Ben whispered to Lotti. ‘It sounds mad, but on the boat, when I drove into that big wave, I thought I heard Nathan speak to me.’

  ‘What did he say?’ asked Lotti.

  ‘He said, Steady lad, you’re doing fine, just as he always used to, and then I felt … I felt his hand on my shoulder. Does that sound mad?’

  Lotti smiled.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I want to show you something.’

  *

  Ben followed Lotti through the cabin up on to the rear deck. Ignoring the rain, Lotti climbed up on to the roof, followed by Federico.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Ben called up. ‘You’ll get soaked!’

  ‘Who cares!’ she shouted back. ‘It’s only water! Ben, look around you!’

  Ben looked. What was he supposed to see? There was a canal, twice as wide as those at home, poplar trees, a lock – the hotel Frank had written about, square and white with faded grey shutters and bright geraniums at the window …

  He began to smile.

  ‘France, Ben!’ sang Lotti. ‘We’re in France!’

  He climbed up to join her on the roof. Lotti grabbed his hands, and they began to jump up and down shouting, ‘We’re in France! We’re in France!’ with Federico leaping around them barking, not caring that they were getting soaked because Lotti was right, it was only water, and together they had taken on the world, they had beaten Hubert Netherbury and Constable Skinner and a wild, wild storm.

  No one could stop them now. No one!

  Two figures appeared on the towpath, a man and a woman, hunched against the rain. Be
n and Lotti paid no attention. The figures drew closer. Lotti stopped jumping, then Ben.

  The figures stopped and the woman looked up, and it was Clara with a man they didn’t know.

  Thunderstruck, soaked, Ben and Lotti stared.

  ‘You mad children!’ Clara cried. ‘Get down from there at once!’

  Then she burst into tears again.

  *

  Clara had prepared a speech but for a while, as she sat on the berth with Lotti and Ben standing before her and Captain de Beauchesne hovering uncomfortably in the galley near the door to the workshop, all anyone could make out were snatches of sentences as she sobbed.

  ‘I thought you were drowned … I was so frightened … I thought you were dead …’

  ‘But we’re not dead.’ Lotti sat down beside Clara and patted her hand. ‘We didn’t drown. Clara, how did you know we were here?’

  ‘We asked the harbourmaster,’ said Captain de Beauchesne, when Clara failed to answer. ‘It was not difficult to trace you. You already have quite the reputation in Calais.’

  He had meant it as a compliment and was unprepared for the consternation which greeted the news that, once again, they had failed absolutely to be inconspicuous.

  ‘What I actually meant,’ said Lotti, ‘is how did you know we were in France?’

  ‘Martha …’ sobbed Clara. ‘Her sister Molly …’

  ‘Molly!’ Lotti hissed.

  She looked apprehensively towards the hatch. ‘Did Molly tell anyone else? Clara, have you told anyone else?’

  Before Clara could reply, Captain de Beauchesne in a stunned voice said, ‘There are puppies. Rather a lot of them, on the berth in this room at the back. I heard growling, so I looked.’

  The surprise finally made Clara stop crying. ‘Puppies?’

  ‘Elsie’s,’ said Ben. ‘And Federico’s.’

  ‘But I didn’t know she was …’

  ‘Neither did we,’ said Ben.

  ‘Clara!’ said Lotti. ‘Answer the question! Have you told anyone where we are?’

  ‘I have not,’ said Clara. ‘Oh, Lotti, your hair!’

  Lotti let out her breath. ‘So why are you here?’

  Clara, finally, launched into her speech. She was still very emotional, and they had to concentrate hard to understand what she was saying. It involved cottages in Pembrokeshire, and guardianships and looking after dogs – although possibly not a whole litter of puppies, she said, floundering at this unexpected obstacle. But the general gist, as they understood it, was that Clara had come to look after them, and take them home.

  ‘Because Ben, dear, about your brother – you do know how difficult it will be, don’t you? How very, very difficult, I really mean impossible …’

  She faltered under Ben’s glare.

  ‘It is not impossible,’ Ben said. ‘We’ve got a plan, haven’t we, Lotti?’

  ‘We have.’ Lotti got up to stand beside Ben. Federico, sensing a threat, left the galley where he had been keeping a suspicious eye on the captain, and trotted across the cabin to join them.

  ‘We are not going back to England,’ said Lotti.

  Henri de Beauchesne started. Until now he had been enjoying himself. The storm, the rain, Clara … Children lost, children found. Puppies, and this extraordinary boat, and its unlikely crossing …

  But now, this talk of England …

  Henri observed the scene before him. The girl and boy, ragged, damp, filthy, the absurd small dog. They looked, he thought, like a small but fierce combat unit. For his own private reasons, Captain de Beauchesne mentally joined their ranks.

  If Clara went back to England now, how could he be sure to see her again?

  ‘Please,’ he begged. ‘Allow me to be of assistance.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Four years in the navy had turned Henri from a dreamy boy into a ruthless organiser.

  ‘To begin with,’ he declared, gazing round the damp, steaming cabin of the Sparrowhawk, ‘you cannot stay here.’

  And he took himself off to La Belle Ecluse, the little hotel by the lock, where he booked three bedrooms – one for himself, one for Clara, and one for Ben and Lotti, with stalls full of fresh straw in the stables for the dogs.

  Lotti and Ben tried to resist, but it was impossible.

  ‘Federico will be lonely,’ protested Lotti. ‘Elsie’s not really talking to him now she has the puppies, and what about the horses?’

  ‘There are no horses,’ Henri replied. ‘They were all requisitioned by the government for the war. Madame Royère has bought a car instead. And dogs are not permitted in the bedrooms.’

  ‘But what if the Sparrowhawk gets stolen?’ Ben worried.

  ‘She will not get stolen,’ Henri promised. ‘But she is damp, and that is not good for humans or for little dogs. Also, the blankets on which Elsie had her puppies must be washed, no?’

  This was undeniably true.

  ‘Madame Royère will see to the washing,’ Henri continued. ‘And she will not charge for your mooring. She is very admiring of your exploits crossing the Channel. I told her, Ben, that you have come to France to look for your brother, and she regards you as a sort of hero.’

  ‘Great,’ grumbled Lotti. ‘The whole world knows about us.’

  ‘The chamber maid, who was in love with an English soldier, has also offered to clean the Sparrowhawk for free.’

  ‘No.’ Here Ben put his foot down. ‘The Sparrowhawk is my boat. I don’t want anyone meddling with her.’

  Henri, ever the naval man, said that this he could understand, and he would cancel the maid, but that he had arranged for dinner to be served in the hotel dining room at half past seven.

  ‘And don’t tell me you would rather eat on your boat,’ he said, anticipating Ben’s next objection. ‘The smell of Madame Royère’s cooking is a thing to make you weep for joy. I have looked in your pantry and all you have is soup. Please, you are my guests. This is your first night in France. It is to be properly celebrated.’

  *

  Dinner was a stew of rabbit cooked in red wine, served on a bed of buttery mashed potatoes. Afterwards there was an alarmingly smelly, round, runny cheese which Ben eyed warily until he saw Lotti smear it on to pieces of crusty French bread. The cheese was followed by an apple tart so light and delicious he wondered if he had ever truly eaten pudding before. During the meal, Henri asked Ben and Lotti to explain their plan for finding Sam, and listened carefully as they told him how they aimed to take the Sparrowhawk to the site of the hospital-bombing near Buisseau, and to interview the farmer who had known Nathan, in the hope that he could tell them something about where Sam was taken, and to visit neighbouring hospitals.

  ‘And when will you leave, on this brave quest?’ asked the Captain.

  It was kindly meant, but Ben and Lotti bridled at the indulgent tone.

  ‘As soon as we’re ready,’ said Ben. ‘I need to check over the Sparrowhawk after the storm, and buy provisions, and also plan our route. Most likely the day after tomorrow at first light.’

  ‘Well, I wish you luck.’ Henri raised his glass. ‘To a heroic journey! And to new friends.’

  He smiled warmly at Clara, who blushed and looked away.

  Later, when Ben and Lotti were lying in their trim twin beds in a little bedroom under the hotel eaves, Lotti said out loud what they were both thinking.

  ‘He doesn’t believe we can do it, does he?’

  ‘No,’ said Ben. ‘He’s just trying to impress Clara.’

  Lotti propped herself up on an elbow to look at him. ‘Do you think he’s in love with her?’

  ‘Maybe. But it’s awfully quick. I mean, they’ve only just met.’

  Lotti lay back down and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. ‘Does that matter?’ she asked. ‘People do fall in love at once. Just like I knew as soon as I met you that were going to be friends.’

  ‘I don’t know. She looks sad.’

  ‘She always looks sad,’ said Lotti dismissively. ‘Ben!
I’ve just had an awful thought – do you think they’re going to want to come with us?’

  ‘He might be helpful,’ said Ben. ‘Frank was.’

  ‘We needed Frank,’ said Lotti. ‘We don’t need him or Clara. He’ll just flounce about giving orders to impress her, and she’ll keep telling us we really ought to go back to England.’

  Ben twisted round to look at her. ‘You’re cross with her,’ he said.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ scoffed Lotti. ‘I’m just being practical. It’s going to be hard enough doing what we have to do without dragging around people who don’t believe in us. We’ll have to tell them they can’t come.’

  There was a short silence in which they both tried to imagine telling Henri and Clara they weren’t wanted, then Ben said, ‘Lotti?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just now, you said it was going to be hard. I do know that. Just in case you thought I didn’t. But we will find him. I can feel it.’

  ‘Course we will,’ said Lotti. ‘We just beat a blinking storm. Finding Sam’ll be nothing compared to that.’

  Ben fell asleep and dreamed of wind and waves. Lotti stayed awake much longer. She thought about Ben and how he would feel if they didn’t find Sam, and she thought about Clara and her garbled speech on the Sparrowhawk. From what Lotti had understood, Clara wanted to rescue Ben from going to an orphanage and have him live with her, but she had said nothing about rescuing Lotti.

  ‘But that’s all right,’ Lotti whispered into the dark. ‘When Sam’s found, I can rescue myself. It’s not as if anyone can stop me.’

  *

  At Great Barton, Albert Skinner cycled wearily home from Barton Lacey, where he had been interviewing Zachy about Lotti. Zachy had told him nothing of any use. Tomorrow, Albert would go to Kent to interview the maid Sally, whom Hubert Netherbury had fired, but who had likely been the last person to see Charlotte St Rémy before she vanished.

  At Ramsgate, the East Kent Herald’s printing presses whirred.