It wasn’t the first time today Dora Dummitt had called her Shirley, Ronnie thought, thoroughly tired and miserable as she clambered onto the counter of the motor boat and through the hatch into the cabin. The woman must be muddling her up with someone else.
Inside the cramped space, Ronnie tore off her jacket, then removed her jumper and shirt. Too late she realised her clothes were still in her rucksack in the other boat. Dora hadn’t given them a chance to unpack and she needed to get to her second pair of trousers and another shirt and jumper. Ronnie pulled a face as she tried to dry the top part of herself with a towel, hardly bigger than a teacloth, that didn’t even begin to absorb the water from the dunking. Tears of frustration pricking her eyes, she flung it on the floor. She’d have to put the sodden clothes back on.
She heard footsteps above and then May’s voice.
‘Ronnie, are you there?’
‘Yes,’ Ronnie called. ‘Very wet, very dirty, and no hope of drying off. My clothes are in the other boat.’
‘I’ve come to tell you our dear Dora says to take what you need of her spares – they’re in one of the drawers. She said to help yourself to underclothes as well!’ May burst into giggles as she came down the cabin steps. ‘Good luck.’
‘I can’t imagine anything more horrible than Dora’s underclothes against my skin,’ Ronnie said crossly, but when she saw May double up she couldn’t help joining in the laughter.
When May had controlled herself she pulled out one of the drawers.
‘Ooh, look what’s in here.’
Ronnie tried to see over May’s shoulder. ‘We haven’t got time for jokes.’
‘No, look.’
Ronnie peered in. There were several sets of bloomers and vests, all neatly folded, all spotless white. But what gave her a start of surprise was a lacy brassiere.
‘You can’t believe it, can you?’ May said incredulously, gazing at the very feminine undergarment. ‘I’d have thought—’
‘And what would yous have thought, miss?’
No, not Dora. Ronnie spun round, her face hot with embarrassment as though the comment had come from her own lips.
‘Mary, yer can go back to the others. I’ll find what Shirley needs.’ Dora glanced at Ronnie. ‘I see yous’ve found the undergarments. They’ll be a bit big but at least they’re dry.’ She thrust her hand into a sack and pulled out a pair of men’s cord trousers and a man’s check shirt. ‘Here, put these on. And these.’ She threw a pair of thick socks at Ronnie. ‘Yer might be needin’ a coupla safety pins for the britches.’ She put two huge safety pins on a shelf by the engine.
‘Thank you very much, Miss Dummitt.’
Dora Dummitt grunted. ‘I’ll see yer outside in five minutes.’
She didn’t mind being dirty and dishevelled, Ronnie thought, as she reluctantly but gratefully pulled on a pair of Dora’s oversized knickers and a vest of equally large proportions. At home she could at least have had a proper wash, or even a five-inch bath. She’d often come in from the garden in a grimy, sweaty state, having dug up potatoes and tended the vegetables, though her mother constantly reprimanded her for looking a sight when she said she’d brought her daughters up to look and act like ladies.
No time to worry about looking and acting like ladies with a war on, Maman, Ronnie would mutter under her breath.
‘Digging is men’s work, Véronique,’ Maman often remarked when Ronnie handed her a basket of vegetables. ‘I wish you did not have to do it.’
But if she didn’t, then who else was there? Besides, she enjoyed it and it saved having to queue for hours for a couple of onions and a cabbage. But what on earth would Maman say if she could see her now? Ronnie already knew the answer. Her mother would be horrified, especially if she ever set eyes on Dora Dummitt with her disgusting pipe.
Yes, Dora was a woman to be reckoned with, Ronnie thought, as she removed a hand bowl displaying a painted castle on its underside from a nail next to the range. She tipped the brown water from her soggy boots into it, then bent to fold up the trouser hems several times so she wouldn’t trip over them. She hurried to put the shirt and jumper on, and the dry socks which were miles too big. Perhaps there was a better side to the woman after all.
‘Okay, Shirley,’ Dora broke into her thoughts as Ronnie came up to the cabin roof. ‘Let’s not waste no more time. We’ll go through how ter open the lock again.’
Now bone-tired, and still feeling damp and thoroughly miserable, Ronnie needed the lavatory, but a cursory glance didn’t reveal any nearby pub. She didn’t dare mention it under Dora’s glare but tried to concentrate on the woman’s repeated instructions on how to open a lock.
‘What’s this called?’ Dora challenged as she held up an iron handle.
‘A windlass,’ a blonde girl called Sally unhesitatingly answered.
‘And what do yer do with it?’
‘Open and close the lock paddles.’
‘That’s correct. Yous’ll all have yer own windlass, but for now just watch me again.’
After a few seconds listening to the woman’s drone, Ronnie’s glance fell on May, standing a few feet away from the group. Her golden-brown hair was pinned in a victory roll. At this moment May was staring at Dora, but as the girl turned away, she sent Ronnie a wink with one of her big, baby-blue eyes. It was so unexpected and cheeky coming from someone who was as pretty as a china doll that Ronnie couldn’t smother a gurgle of laughter. Dora whipped round, casting her suspicious gaze towards May, but by then May was looking perfectly innocent.
‘Can
