A Sister's War by Molly Green (the reading strategies book txt) 📕

‘There’s Jessica Hamilton-Bard and Sally—’ She hesitated.

‘I think you’d better write them all down, miss, so I don’t make no mistake.’ He handed her a scrap of paper.

Try as she would, she couldn’t remember Sally’s last name. In the end she just wrote Sally.

‘I think it begins with “L”,’ she said apologetically. ‘But I’ve got all the others. Oh, and me, of course.’ She giggled as she wrote her own name and passed the slip over to him.

He looked at it and nodded. ‘It might take me a while to get them all together,’ he said.

The minutes ticked by. Ronnie tapped her foot impatiently. Where on earth was he? She looked at her watch. Quarter-past four. It’d be getting dark soon and she’d be in trouble. Oh, where was the man?

‘Sorry to have kept you, miss, but there was quite a stack to check and tick off in the book that they’d now been collected.’ He looked at her. ‘Have you identification?’

Blow it. She’d forgotten to bring her letter to say she worked for the Grand Union.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t seem to have it.’

‘Don’t worry. You wouldn’t know all them names and Miss Dummitt’s if you wasn’t who you say you are,’ he chuckled, handing her a package. ‘I’ve put them all together in here so they keep safe.’

She saw it was addressed to Miss Dummitt with ‘To Be Collected’ printed in large letters. How she longed to open it and see if there was anything for her, but she didn’t dare. Thanking the clerk for his trouble, she stepped out of the building. As she feared, clouds had gathered and what had been a slight mist from the canal had got worse. It wasn’t going to be such a pleasant cycle ride back.

Ronnie jumped down the steps into the cabin, surprised to see only Dora sitting at the fold-out table, puffing away on her revolting pipe.

Dora looked up. ‘Have yer got the post, miss?’

‘Yes, it’s all here.’ She handed Dora the package.

Dora immediately ripped it open and drew out a small pile of envelopes held together with an elastic band. She held out the bundle.

‘Sort out any for here,’ she said, ‘and I’ll take the rest of ’em back ter the motor.’

Ronnie extracted two envelopes for herself, happy to see one from Suzy and one from her friend Lois, and also two for Jess. None for Angela.

‘Where is everyone?’ she asked.

‘I told ’em I wanted a few minutes with yer on my own,’ Dora said.

Now what?

‘I never thought you’d make it as a boater,’ Dora continued, ‘you bein’ so fresh-faced. But I don’t hear no complaints when yer workin’ in the freezin’ cold, nor the work which is mucky and heavy, and no complaints neither from the other wenches – well, ’cept one.’ She actually gave Ronnie one of her grins.

That’d be Angela. Ronnie felt her skin prickle.

‘And I bin watchin’ how yer carry out what I tell yer to do, and it’s good enough fer me.’

Praise indeed, Ronnie thought, a warm glow stealing through her body.

‘Thank you, Miss Dummitt—’

A loud banging on the side of the boat made Ronnie jump.

‘Drat them girls. I told ’em I wanted a bit o’ peace,’ Dora grumbled. Ronnie hid a smile. It was usually the way Dora announced herself. Dora opened the hatch to a funnel of cold air. ‘Oh, not again!’

‘Sorry to disturb, ma’am. May I come in?’

Ronnie startled as a policeman stepped into the cabin. He removed his cap to reveal a shock of iron-grey hair and gave a short nod of acknowledgement to her. Dora glared at him.

‘I’m gettin’ a little tired of the police turnin’ up night and day with no warnin’,’ she said, her voice sour. ‘What’s it this time, officer?’

‘Inspector Jackson.’ He showed his card. ‘Are you Dora Dummitt?’

‘Miss Dummitt, to you,’ she flashed.

‘I believe you’re the trainer for the boatwomen.’

‘What of it?’

‘I’m enquiring after a Miss Linfoot.’

Dear God, not again.

Dora kept her attention on him. ‘On what grounds are you enquirin’ after her?’

‘Suspicion of involvement in a black-marketing ring.’

‘Nonsense.’ Dora took a puff of her pipe. ‘I know where my trainees are at all times and I can assure you, officer, they none of ’em have time ter be in black-marketin’ rings neither any other rings. I work them too hard and too long – so it’s impossible. Stealin’ and sellin’ stuff has bin goin’ on long before these wenches arrived on the cut – and yer know it full well.’

He glanced at Ronnie, then back to Dora.

‘Is this young lady Miss Veronica Linfoot by any chance?’

‘I’m Véronique Linfoot, yes,’ Ronnie cut in, annoyed with the anglicised version of her name. ‘And I’ve already said all I know when the police came to my house.’

‘Yes, I’ve read that report. But I’m not entirely satisfied. So I’d like you to come with me to the station to help with our enquiries. Just routine, you understand.’

‘No, I don’t understand at all.’ Dora stood up indignantly, her pipe falling to the floor with the vehemence of her words. ‘You don’t need to be takin’ her anywheres.’

‘I’m afraid we do.’ The inspector’s tone was firm. ‘It shouldn’t take long.’

Ronnie swallowed hard, Sergeant Stanford’s last words in front of Maman and Raine reverberating in her eardrums: that’ll be all – for the moment. She forced herself to look him in the eye. ‘I told the police all I know when they came to my house,’ she repeated. ‘You can’t arrest me. I’m innocent.’

He put his hand up to silence her.

‘I’m not arresting you – we just need you for further questioning.’

‘No. I won’t go. I haven’t done anything.’ Ronnie’s mind flew in all directions, trying to take in what he was saying. ‘Ask Constable Scott – he knows me. He knows I don’t know anything about black-marketing or stolen goods or anything. He and Sergeant Sandford already came to see Miss Dummitt and all us girls and inspected the boats.’ She blinked to stop herself from bursting into tears. ‘Oh,