Authors: Benita Brown

Tags: #Technology & Engineering, #Sagas, #Fisheries & Aquaculture, #Fiction

A Safe Harbour (26 page)

BOOK: A Safe Harbour

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It had taken her a while to get used to the smell of the room upstairs. Howard had explained that it was the oil in some of the paints he used and went on to say that he painted in watercolours, too. That first day she could tell that he would have loved to explain more about his work, and she had had to remind him that her time was limited.

‘Of course,’ he’d said.

‘How often will I have to come here?’ Kate had asked.

‘I need about twenty hours of your time.’

‘Twenty hours!’

‘We’ll do it in two-hour sessions.’

‘Will I have to stand still like this for two hours?’

‘No, twenty minutes at a time will do, and then we’ll have a short break. Don’t worry, I’m not a slave driver.’

And so far Kate had managed very well. The slight pains in her neck and shoulders eased if she shrugged her shoulders and rotated her head for a while, but she was more worried by the pain in her back. Each time it was a little worse. She hoped she wasn’t harming the child she was carrying.

‘Do you think you can manage to tidy this table and wash the dishes, Betsy?’

When Kate heard those words she knew it was time to go back to the cold room upstairs. Sometimes, depending on the weather, they did not manage to work for a full two hours. Howard needed daylight. He’d told her that there was nothing better for an artist than a room facing north because that way you got a cool clear light with no harsh shadows.

But if the storm clouds gathered, or the fog rolled in, they had to stop work. ‘Don’t worry,’ he’d told her the first time this happened. ‘It’s going well. I’m sure we’ll manage.’

He hadn’t let her see the portrait yet. ‘Soon,’ he’d told her, adding, ‘I don’t want you to be disappointed by the early stages.’

They left Betsy to clear the table and wash the dishes. On a previous occasion Howard had remarked that, as the girl was supposed to be Kate’s chaperone, he ought to tell her to leave everything and come up to the studio with them. But they both knew that, in her innocence, Betsy would not understand the implication and, moreover, she would be disappointed to be deprived of the small tasks that made her feel important. So they let it be.

Today it was about ten minutes before Betsy came upstairs and joined them. Kate glimpsed her from the corner of her eyes as she tiptoed in and sank on to a pile of old cushions on the floor. Kate had to work hard to suppress a smile. She knew exactly what Betsy would do next. She would draw up her knees and wrap her arms round her legs and then watch Howard intently, never taking her gaze from him or anything he did.

When the day’s session was over Betsy insisted on walking home with Kate because Howard had told her she must. Kate suspected that it was a way of protecting her reputation. Anyone who might be watching would see Kate and Betsy leaving Howard’s house together. And, once at Belle Vue Cottage, Betsy had got into the habit of coming in with Kate and asking if there was anything she could do to help.

Today Kate was pleased to let her do a little dusting and sweep the floor. She didn’t feel guilty because the girl seemed to like to be busy. But when she had finished, as usual she wanted to stay longer. Poor little lass, Kate thought, she’s lonely. Nevertheless, she had to be firm and send her home so that she, Kate, could get to bed. She was exhausted.

Before climbing into bed she pressed the folds of her nightdress against her body and looked down. Surely she wasn’t imagining the raised curve of her belly. During the day her clothes hid the thickening of her waist. Her mother said that, if she was lucky, she might go another month or more before her pregnancy showed.

It’s so wrong having to hide it like this, she thought sadly, and once under the bedclothes she pulled a pillow down and wrapped her arms round it, seeking comfort in its feathered softness. She should have been allowed to be proud of the baby she was carrying instead of having to pretend it didn’t exist.

The next morning Kate was up early in order to walk to the fish quay at North Shields. She had to be in the auction shed at eight o’clock at the latest. She took only her creel. The supply of crabs and lobsters was dwindling. It wasn’t worth haggling over them when she could be away on her rounds. It was her day to go to Wallsend but after she bought her fish she knew it would be no use returning to the village to beg a lift with Mr Brunton. He would have left long before she could get back there. So she took the train – and that cost money.

She no longer started her round at the Plough Inn and Jackson’s farm. When she left the station it was easier to begin at the rows of workmen’s houses that led down to the river and the shipyards. At first her customers had been surprised to see her so early, but they soon got used to the new routine and were often waiting for her with their dishes and plates.

The first time she’d seen them after her aunt’s accident they’d been shocked and sympathetic. Kate was sure that many of them had spent more than they usually did because they were sorry for her. But now they were back to normal and they expected Kate to laugh and gossip with them just as Meg had done. And the trouble was she couldn’t. It wasn’t only because her moods seemed to be swinging violently these days; she had to acknowledge that she didn’t have Meg’s gift with people.

Often she found her customers’ chatter boring, whereas her aunt would not only have joined in but have remembered everyone’s name and those of their children and husbands as well. And sometimes she found it hard to hide her shock at the sort of gossip they repeated and at their crude sense of humour. She sensed they were losing patience with her and she’d already lost a customer or two.

It was no better in the avenues and squares in the better part of town. She’d watched in wonder when her aunt had put on a respectful manner to deal with the cooks and maids in the grand houses and she’d tried very hard to imitate her.

‘
Remember, Kate, hinny, you can’t let your pride stand in the way of business. You hev to act respectful
,’ her aunt had told her. Aunt Meg’s words had stuck in Kate’s mind.

‘In spite of being a fish lass
you
are a lady, you and me both, and we would never demean ourselves by behaving like some of those who think they’re ladies – whether mistress or servant – but don’t act like such.’

Unfortunately, Kate was finding it harder and harder to remember Aunt Meg’s advice and once or twice she’d retorted sharply when one or other of the servants who had answered the door had been uppity with her. Once she had lost her temper and asked a young maid with a soiled apron and untidy hair escaping from her cap just who she thought she was! The next time she went to that house the door had been opened and then slammed in her face. Another customer lost.

I must control my temper today, Kate told herself, no matter how I am provoked. With that thought running through her head she turned the corner into a pleasant square. The sun was warm and a slight breeze rustled through the leaves of the trees, which were already taking on the colours of autumn. As Kate watched, a leaf shook loose from its branch and drifted down to land in her hair. That’s supposed to be lucky, she thought, and she reached up to take the leaf but it blew away to land in the garden of one of the houses.

At that moment Kate heard the sound of horses’ hoofs and turned to see a carriage and pair turn into the square and begin to make its way towards her. She didn’t pay much attention to it until it was almost alongside her. Then she saw that there were two ladies sitting in the carriage, and in another instant she realized that one of them was Jane.

Her old friend looked every bit the lady, sitting there in the carriage with an older woman who Kate presumed was Mrs Coulson. In fact, Jane looked more ladylike than her mistress. Mrs Coulson was attractive enough but her tightly fitted plaid jacket emphasized her rather overblown charms and Kate thought that a woman of that age ought not perhaps to wear quite so many brightly coloured flowers and ribbons on her bonnet.

Jane, on the other hand, was dressed in plain dark blue with a small neat hat perched on top of her upswept hair, its only decoration being an even darker blue clutch of feathers that trembled with the motion of the carriage. All this Kate took in as the carriage drew alongside.

‘Jane!’ Kate called out. ‘Hello there!’

Jane swivelled her head towards Kate. Her eyes opened wide and Kate thought she saw an expression of dismay before her friend turned away again.

She doesn’t want to speak to me, Kate thought. Sitting there in that carriage all dressed up like Lady Muck. Does she think she’s too good for me? Kate felt a surge of anger.

The carriage had drawn up outside one of the houses, and Jane and her mistress were preparing to get out. The coachman had dismounted and had come round to help them down. Kate gave her creel a hitch so that it was comfortable across her shoulders and strolled over.

‘Jane!’ she called. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t recognize me.’

By this time the two women were standing on the pavement, shaking out and smoothing down their skirts, and Jane kept her head down, although she could not have failed to hear. But her mistress looked up and stared at Kate. She turned to Jane and said, ‘This young . . . fish lass . . . seems to know you, Jane.’

‘Yes, Mrs Coulson,’ Jane said, and redeemed herself by adding, ‘this is my friend, Kate Lawson.’ Although she still did not look too pleased to see her, Kate thought.

Mrs Coulson smiled and astonished Kate by saying, ‘I’m pleased to meet you, my dear.’ She turned to Jane and said, ‘Would you like a few minutes to talk to your friend? Just come into the house with me and get me settled, and then you can come out and talk to Kate. But you mustn’t stay out in the street for too long or they’ll think I don’t know how to treat my servants!’

Jane didn’t answer but she looked a little flustered. Mrs Coulson laughed and Kate realized that Jane’s mistress was what they called unconventional, while Jane herself was not.

Kate watched as the two women mounted the steps to the front door. The coachman had preceded them and rung the bell before retreating to the carriage. After Jane and Mrs Coulson entered the house – ushered in by a smart maidservant – the door was closed again and Kate was left feeling foolish as she waited on the pavement.

Eventually, the door opened again and Jane came to join her. They stared at each other for a moment and it was Kate who spoke first. ‘She’s nice, your Mrs Coulson,’ she said.

‘Yes, she is.’

‘And she doesn’t mind your coming out to speak to me?’

‘Not at all.’

‘So it wasn’t because you were worried about annoying her just now?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You ignored me when I called to you.’

‘Well . . . it’s not quite the done thing, I suppose.’

‘We’ve already agreed that Mrs Coulson didn’t seem to mind. So please explain why you weren’t at all pleased to see me.’

‘I am pleased to see you, Kate, really I am. It’s just that . . . well, you know, since the riot . . .’

‘It wasn’t a riot.’

‘Well, the demonstration or whatever you want to call it. Oh, Kate, I’ve been so worried!’

‘Why?’

‘About William of course.’

‘Ah, of course.’

‘I just don’t want him to get involved.’

‘Of course you don’t. But you don’t need to worry. He’s got more sense.’

‘There’s something else.’

Jane looked so miserable that Kate wanted to put her arms round her and comfort her. But that wouldn’t do. Jane was all dressed up like a lady and she, Kate, was in her working clothes that reeked of fish even when they had been washed and hung out on the line to blow in the wind.

‘What’s troubling you, Jane?’

‘We want to get married.’

‘Well, I know that!’

‘No, I mean soon. If I am to take over the shop and William is to live there with me, well . . .’

‘Of course. You’ll have to be married. What’s the problem?’

‘William hasn’t told your father that he’s going to leave home.’

‘Oh.’

‘You see why I’m worried?’

‘Listen, Jane. You can’t have your own way about everything. No – I mean it. You’re very clever, you deserve to succeed, but you can’t expect William just to do as you say all the time. You’re very lucky to have William as a sweetheart, I hope you know that. He’ll make a fine husband.’

‘Of course I know that. But—’

‘No more “buts”. You can trust William to do the right thing. I’m sure of that. He loves you and he’ll judge when the time is right. Be patient.’

‘I suppose I’ll have to be.’

BOOK: A Safe Harbour

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