Free Water Gypsies by Annie Murray Page A

were approaching the junction at Braun-ston, where they would turn onto the Oxford Canal. As they came through the tunnel at Braunston, enveloped in damp darkness, Maryann thought, Nancy and Darius’ll be about at Warwick or Leamington by now. Would they see them on the way back? She was disappointed and uneasy. She had wanted the reassurance of Darius and Nance tied up near them when they reached Tyseley Wharf.
    She only became gradually aware of the shouting ahead because she was in the cabin. They’d made the turn and Bobby was at the helm. She could hear something, but then Bobby’s voice came to her: ‘Maryann – you’d best come out!’
    He pointed as she came and stood outside. They’d tied the butty on a shorter strap to go through Braun-ston, so she was not far behind Joel on the Esther Jane. The first thing she saw was a small crowd ahead on the bank, who were waving and shouting at them, while a tan and white dog ran back and forth about their legs, barking in agitation. It took only seconds to see that something was seriously wrong. Maryann took in the scene in small glimpses of understanding, as if the corner of a large picture was being gradually revealed to her. A space had been reserved for them along the bank and several of the women were beckoning them urgently to pull in. As they drew close, she made out that the boats the gaggle of people had gathered by were the Isla and the Neptune. Her mind struggled with this: why were they here instead of much further ahead? Then Joel turned and signalled to them that they were pulling in and Bobby was saying, ‘Oh my – what’s amiss here?’ and at that moment, from the cabin of the Neptune, Maryann saw Darius appear and step off the boat. There was a stiffness in the way he moved and his face was like that of a statue carved from the hardest granite.
    ‘Oh, Bobby.’ Maryann went cold all over at the sight of him. ‘Summat terrible’s happened, I can tell. Where’s Nance?’
    Helping hands seized the straps and secured them as they jumped onto the bank, Maryann taking Sally’s hand. Everyone stood back and became quiet as Joel went to his brother. Maryann walked behind, suddenly acutely conscious of following Joel’s footsteps, the brown corduroy of his trousers above his boots, of turning to reach out to Sally again as she ran up beside her, of stopping as Joel put his hand on Darius’s shoulder. The older brother crumpled, lowering his head, a hand going up to cover his face.
    No! Maryann was screaming inside herself. Not one of the children, not Nance, not any of them, O God, please, no!
    Darius looked up again, face twisted with grief. ‘Her’s drownded.’ His voice cracked. ‘My little mate. My Nancy.’
    Maryann heard the sound of a woman weeping behind her. Darius, sobbing openly now, led them into the cabin away from the watching eyes. He went and sat on the edge of the back bed. The first thing Maryann was aware of was the three children, squashed like peas in a pod along the side bench, all crying heartbrokenly. It was the most miserable sight she could imagine. She and Joel squeezed inside the cabin. Nancy lay on the back bed, covered with a blanket, its curving line tracing the shape of her heavy pregnancy. As Darius leaned back to allow them closer, Maryann saw that her friend’s face was a bluish white, the features lifeless, somehow impersonal. Nancy, yet not Nancy: the power, the spark of life extinguished in her. Maryann stared, unable fully to take in the sight. The children continued to cry behind her.
    ‘Oh, Nance,’ she whispered. Leaning over, she reached under the blanket for her old friend’s hand and grasped the cold fingers. ‘Come on, Nance,’ she said, squeezing them. ‘Oh, Nance, what’ve you done? What’s happened to you?’ She recoiled, a howl of horror and protest trapped in her chest. ‘What’s happened?’ she demanded of Darius. How could he have let this happen to her friend, to Nancy, who was