‘And your mother?’
‘Our mother just wants Véronique to be happy whatever she decides to do,’ Raine said with a smile.
If only that were true, Ronnie thought.
‘But as you’re not yet twenty-one we would require her permission in writing.’ Mrs Hunter removed her glasses.
Raine shot Ronnie a warning look.
‘I’ll be speaking to her,’ Raine said. ‘It won’t be a problem if I tell her I’m happy with all that you’ve told us.’
‘Good.’ Mrs Hunter scribbled a note, then looked up and fixed her gaze on Ronnie. ‘And if I offered you the job right this minute, what would you say?’
‘I’d say, “Yes, please,”’ Ronnie said, grateful to see Raine give her a wink.
‘You’ll need a medical. I’ll wait until I hear your mother has given permission and book one for you as soon as possible.’
‘I think they’ll find she’s as fit as a flea,’ Raine said.
‘We hope so.’ Mrs Hunter made another note. ‘Bear in mind that the boat is only seven feet wide and there’ll be no room for items such as suitcases’ – she tapped her pen on the desk – ‘so pack sparingly in a rucksack, if you have one. If not, a pillowcase, which can be stowed more easily than a case. And you’ll need bedding – or possibly a sleeping bag. It’s not kitted out like a hotel, you understand?’ Ronnie nodded. Mrs Hunter took a sheet of paper from a file on her desk and gave it to Ronnie. ‘This is a list of things you must bring.’
Ronnie glanced at the list, hardly seeing it, she was so excited. She noticed rucksack and sleeping bag along with items of clothing.
She looked up. ‘I have my dad’s rucksack from when we went camping once, but we gave our sleeping bags to the Girl Guides when we moved to Downe.’
‘That’s a shame. It would have been useful. Well, be sure to bring a sheet and a warm blanket.’
Ronnie wondered how on earth she was meant to get all that into a rucksack with her clothes and a few personal belongings, but she didn’t dare say anything.
‘I have something which might be useful for you.’ Mrs Hunter rummaged in her desk drawer and brought out a small paperback book. She passed it across to Ronnie. ‘It’s a novel but it will give you a good flavour of what it’s like to work on the canals.’
Ronnie glanced at the title: The Water Gipsies. She wasn’t a big reader but this might be interesting.
‘Thank you very much,’ she said. ‘I’ll definitely take it with me.’ She tucked it into her bag.
‘Right, then. Just to recap. All being well with your mother you will start the six weeks’ training next week, Friday, the 12th of November, where you’ll meet your trainer, Dora Dummitt, and the other trainees at nine o’clock in the morning at Regent’s Canal Dock. Any problems of any kind, you must speak to your trainer.’ Mrs Hunter smiled and rose to her feet. ‘Would you like to come with me and have a look at the boats?’
‘Oh, yes, please,’ Ronnie said eagerly.
She and Raine followed Mrs Hunter down to the canal. There were a couple of dozen narrowboats – not barges, Ronnie quickly reminded herself. They were painted in vibrant red and blue, with the company’s initials GUCC and telephone number, and were riding high in the water. There seemed nothing about them Ronnie could relate to. Her pulse quickened.
One of the workmen appeared from a nearby boat and sprang onto the hard surface of the yard.
‘Sorry, Mrs Hunter, if you and the young ladies are intending to have a dekko inside – there’s all wet paint.’
‘Oh, what a nuisance.’ Mrs Hunter turned to Ronnie and Raine. ‘Quite a few of the boats are here for repair and repainting and redecorating so we’d best not disturb them, but at least you’ve caught a glimpse. Just remember they look much bigger than they are inside.’
She put out her hand, first to Raine and then to Ronnie. ‘I wish you the very best of luck, Ronnie Linfoot. Always remember why you are there – to release a place so a man can fight for our country. Do your utmost to make sure no one can ever point out the difference between women taking the cargo and men. Don’t let the company down.’
Ronnie stood and shook hands. ‘I promise to do my very best.’
‘See that you do, my dear. I’ll show you out.’
‘I won’t be allowed to go,’ Ronnie said sulkily as she and Raine walked back to the station. ‘Maman will never give her permission. Oh, why can’t I be twenty-one?’ she burst out.
Raine laughed. ‘Don’t wish your time away. And don’t worry about Maman. I think she’ll give it.’ She grinned at her youngest sister. ‘It’s a pity I couldn’t come back with you. It would have been easier to talk to her. But I’ll ring her tonight, so don’t worry.’
If anything, the journey home took even longer than when Ronnie had started out that morning. Immediately she’d kissed her sister goodbye – at Paddington Station this time – she’d felt lonely.
It was gone five by the time Ronnie arrived in Bromley, but her luck was in when she saw a bus for Downe draw up outside. A woman with bleached blonde hair under a felt hat, and thickly painted cherry lips, plonked next to her.
‘Been somewhere nice, have you, dearie?’ she said, turning to Ronnie, who was staring out of the window into the darkness, trying to work out how to tell her mother she’d been accepted to work for the Grand Union Canal Carrying Company. She still hadn’t got things worked out in her mind when the conductor dropped her at the nearest stop to home.
Keeping to the regulations, she fixed a small piece of tissue paper over her torch with an elastic band to prevent any rogue aeroplane from spotting her. Her common sense always questioned this – how could
