The Loss of Liberty by John Willans
The Loss of Liberty
By John Willans
Copyright 2015 John Willans
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Arnold Clegghorne sat in his backyard and waited for his grandson, Michael. He leaned back against the coal bunker and sipped hot tea from a pint mug. His wife, Enid, had left him in charge of the washing while she went to bingo. It flapped on the line in the summer breeze and wafted a hint of Omo into the warm air. Arnold was going to launch his new canoe for the first time. It was an important occasion for him. So, he wore his army service beret with the Royal Engineers’ badge, a battle dress shirt, trousers with braces and his tie with a tie pin, the one presented to him by Marshall Tito. There was a knock at the yard door.
‘Are you there Granddad?’
‘Come in Michael. Door’s on’y on the sneck,’
Michael came into the yard and closed the door behind him. Arnold was pleased to see that the lad wore his best outfit too – jeans, tea shirt and sparkling white trainers.
‘Eh up Granddad. How are you?’
Arnold stood up, put down his mug and moved towards his shed. ‘I’m champion thanks lad. Come over here and take a decko at this. Now then. What do you think? It’s taken me best part of a week to fettle her.’
Michael scratched his cheek. ‘Very nice Granddad, but, what is it?’
Arnold tucked his thumbs behind his braces ‘It’s a two man, light weight, folding canoe. I’ve made it so that if we need to undertake a waterborne clandestine mission, then, we’re prepared! Why? What did you think?’
‘Oh yes, I can see what it is now. It’s the flowery pattern on the canvas that threw me.’
Arnold Clegghorne wanted a socialist uprising. So far, he’d failed to persuade the Mexborough Co-operative Party to adopt a policy of revolution. Undaunted, he saw himself leading a cadre of highly trained and committed guerrilla fighters. He expected his band to spread revolution throughout South Yorkshire - even into the bourgeois heart of Doncaster. His audaciousness would become legendary. Lenin, Castro, Guevara and Clegghorne, these will be the names to go down in the history of world revolution, he thought. Arnold had explained his ideas to his grandson. Michael was interested but Arnold had doubts about the strength of Michael’s commitment.
‘Listen Michael, when you’re up against it you have to improvise and use whatever materials are at hand. Tell you what. Just think of the flowery pattern as camouflage.’
‘Camouflage! Why Granddad, are we going to paddle into Connisborough Flower Show?’
‘Cheeky young bugger! Come on, let’s get her down to the canal and see how she goes. Give me a hand to fold her up. That’s it. Let’s go then. Just cop odd o’ that handle. Ready? Lift!’
Michael lifted and then staggered. ‘Bloody hell Granddad, did you say it’s light weight?’
Arnold put down his end of the canoe. ‘Give over complaining in the ranks. Eh, and mind your language. Tell you what then Shirley Temple, we’ll pop her in the wheel barrow. It’s just behind you. Mind your head on your Grandma’s washing. That’ll do. Slide those paddles in can you? Right then, you can have first stint at shoving the barrow. Follow me. Look out! Don’t bash her again’ the wall. Be careful until we get to the end of here.’
At ‘’The Laughing Ferret’’, Arnold noticed the regulars slouched outside supping their pints. The smell of old tobacco smoke and stale beer danced out from the dingy tap room as the juke box played ‘Yellow River’ by the Tremolos.
‘Bloody hell Cleggy, you’re a bit early for penny f’ the Guy aren’t you?’ said one.
‘Eh up Arnold lad! Does your Enid know you’re tekin’ her couch for a walk?’ asked another.
Arnold marched on, eyes front. He ignored their banter. ‘Them buggers will be the fost to go when the revolution comes,’ he mumbled to himself.
‘Stop now Michael. I’ll take over. We’ll nip down here. The canal’s at the end of this lane.’
Arnold pushed the wheel barrow down to the canal’s edge. He paused to stare at the power station. Its cooling towers appeared like steaming sentinels above the cool mist that now settled on the water. The steam from them rose straight up into the pink evening sky.
Arnold scanned the bank searching for a launch site. ‘Here’ll do. We’d better get a shift on. It’ll be dark soon. Pop her in then. Right. Get in the front Michael.......No Not there. That’s the back! That’s my seat. Don’t they teach you anything useful at that fancy school of yours? Eh don’t stand on the bottom! It’s on’y canvas n’ you’ll go straight through. I’d like it to last a bit longer if you don’t mind. Put your feet on your seat fost, then slide in. That’s it. Now here’s your paddle.’
Arnold climbed in behind. ‘Are you comfortable? Right then. Shove off. I’ll keep in towards the bank until we’ve got the measure of her. Alright?’
Arnold dipped his paddle in the murky water causing bubbles of gas to wobble to the surface. They burst, releasing their stink of coal, diesel and rotten vegetation. He paddled in time with his grandson.‘Nice easy strokes Michael. Not too fast. Have you done this before?’
‘Aye, Granddad, I have. I did a spot of one man kayaking on the drain again’ the gas works. That was with the scouts. I didn’t get much of a turn though. There were fifteen on us and on’y one kayak! This is much better!’
Arnold puffed out his chest feeling proud. ‘Eeee! It is grand int it. I’m right glad that you came wi me. Eh, what do you think of the flag? It’s the hammer and sickle of Soviet Russia.’
‘Aye, very nice. Is the canoe called ‘’Comrade Lenin’’ then, Granddad?’
‘No, ‘’Liberty.’’ Didn’t you notice the name painted here in red?’
Arnold pointed and leant over the side.
Michael gripped ‘’Liberty’s’’ gunwales. ‘Whoah! Steady on Granddad or you’ll have us in!’
He glanced at the name then stared into the water. ‘Do you think there’s any fish in here?’
Arnold continued to paddle. ‘Personally, I don’t aim to find out, but I tell you what. If I were a fish, I wouldn’t live in here. Would you?
Arnold became more confident and steered the canoe into the middle of the canal. Then, from behind came the sound of a horn. He swivelled round, trying not to upset the canoe. First, he saw a wave coming towards them. The wave spread the full width of the canal. It swept along the bank. Then, behind the wave, there was a large, deeply laden vessel. The water foamed at the vessels bow.
‘Bloody hell Michael! There’s a coal barge coming. We’d better shift out of the way sharpish or we’ll be in big trouble. Can you see anywhere to land cos I’m buggered if I can?’
‘I reckon the sides are too high here Granddad. What are we going to do? Them coal barges are huge and they don’t stop for nothing!’
Arnold peered over Michael’s head and pointed to the bank in front and towards their left. ‘See there? Can you see that big willow tree with its branches above the watter? We’ll make an orderly retreat over to it and hang on. Paddle as hard as you dare and I’ll steer.’
Arnold drove the canoe forward, pointing her at the tree. Michael rhythmically plunged his paddle into the water. Arnold felt the canoe roll from side to side with their combined effort. He grew tired. His arms ached. Perspiration trickled out from under his beret and collected in his eyebrows. He paused to wipe it way then continued to paddle, matching Michael’s pace.
Michael puffed and gasped. ‘How’re we doi
Arnold panted with exertion, his breath visible in the cool damp air. ‘Concentrate.... job in hand... almost there.’
Arnold guided the canoe under the willow. ‘Bloody hell Michael that was hard going. I don’t know about you but I’m knackered. Pop your paddle down here for now. Can you stretch up and grab od o’ that branch? I’ll do the same my end.’
Arnold’s chest was pounding. He turned and stared at the barge as it approached, its bow wave a line of wild, white charging stallions. How on earth would the flimsy canoe survive? Then, ‘‘Liberty’’ lifted as the galloping wave surged underneath. She remained poised for an instant on the crest, but then crashed down on the bottom of the canal as the passing barge sucked away all the water.
Michael dangled clear of the canoe. ‘Help! Granddad! What shall I do? Shall I hang on or let go?’
Arnold hung on to his slender branch as it bent and swayed. Only his feet prevented the canoe from drifting away. ‘Don’t let go Michael. ‘’Liberty’’ will rise again when the watter comes back. We’ll be able to get back in then.’
Arnold’s arms ached. He had a pain across his shoulders. He glanced down at his feet and in alarm saw that a bike pedal had poked up through the canvas as ‘’Liberty’’ settled in the mud.
A grimy head in a flat cap poked out of the wheel house window as the barge drew alongside. ‘I thought that could on’y be the likes of you Clegghorne. Stop faffing about and get out of the road. Some on us ‘as proper work to do! What you doin’ anyway, searching for U-boats or summat?’
The barge swept on and the turbulent swirling water returned. The canoe lifted but then something was wrong. It folded. The middle sank while both bow and stern rose. Muddy water seeped in through the tear made by the pedal.
Michael stared at the canoe. ‘What’s happened Granddad?’
Arnold was calm. ‘I think we’ve discovered a design fault.’
‘What!’ Michael said.
‘Well I didn’t anticipate that we would beach. Summat’s ripped through the canvas. The locking latch has released ‘n’ all. The canoe is resuming folded mode! ’
Michael sagged. ‘We’re buggered then!’
‘No. We’ll have to improvise.’
‘Improvise! What with! We’ve got nowt! Hang on, though, back yonder. I think there’s another barge coming up. Since they seem to know you, can’t we call for help?’
‘Call for help! You mean give in? Besides they’re no friends of mine!’
‘Can’t we just pretend they are and see what happens?’
‘Stop frettin’ Michael. I’ve got a plan. Remember how we were lifted up by the wave from the first barge? Well, I reckon that we can use the wave from the second one to get us up into the tree. Then we can climb down onto the bank.’
‘Aye but what’ll happen to ‘’Liberty’’. We can’t tek her up the tree can we?’
‘You’re right. This is an important lesson for you, Michael. You see, sometimes sacrifices have to be made.’
‘And you’re prepared to sacrifice ‘’Liberty’’ so that I don’t have to get me new trainers muddy! Granddad, I’m impressed!’
‘To be honest lad, the cleanliness or otherwise of your trainers aren’t my immediate concern. It’s good that you can treat your life with such light hearted indifference. I’m proud of you for that. Anyway, enough of this philosophical badinage, here it comes, eyes front!’
‘Will you be all right Granddad? You’re not a young man any more are you? When was the last time you shinned up a tree?’
‘Silence in the ranks! The order was eyes front! Now on the command leap into that tree, that’s just what we’ll do! Got it! Smartly, and with lots of swank! Wait for it. Wait for it. 20ft to go. Almost there. Prepare to leap. Up we go and.....Leap!’
Arnold and Michael sprang into the willow. The second barge moved on and, like the first, took the water with it. Unfortunately, as the canoe settled back on the mud, Arnold was left swinging. He was saddened by his lack of athleticism and by the sight of his, now waterlogged, canoe as she swirled away in the wash from the barge.
Michael scrambled through the tree and reached down. ‘Come on Granddad. Let me give you a hand. Get your sen swinging and I’ll give you a pull up.’
As Arnold swung to and fro, Michael grabbed his braces, pulled back hard and twanged him high into the willow. Michael laughed. Arnold was relieved. From their willowy refuge, they saw the last of ‘’Liberty’’ as she disappeared in her own floral tribute like a sad sagging debutante at the end of a wet summer ball. Then, he and Michael climbed down and went to retrieve the wheel barrow.
Arnold walked alongside his grandson with his arm around his shoulders. ‘That was a lucky escape lad. Shame about the loss of ‘’Liberty’’. I thought it was going to be curtains for us at one point.’
‘Curtains! Grandma’s curtains.’ Michael shouted. ‘I knew I’d seen that flowery pattern somewhere before!’
John Willans