The Fisher Lass (39 page)

‘No, no. I must do this alone.’

And so, as the
Arctic Queen
nosed her way to the jetty and the gangway from ship to quay clattered into place, the deckies were the first ashore. Jeannie stepped forward and put out her
hand towards one of the men. ‘Please, would you fetch Joe Lawrence for me. Tell him, it’s urgent.’

The man looked at her for a moment and then as if reading something in her face, he nodded, ‘Right, Missis.’ He turned and ran lightly back up the gangway and she heard him calling
as he went, ‘Joe, Joe . . .’

She glanced up and saw Joe looking down at her standing there on the quayside. She could not read his expression from this distance, but she knew he would not be pleased to see her.

She saw the deckie climb aboard again, saw the exchange of conversation between him and Joe, saw the deckie gesture towards her. Then Joe was standing at the top of the gangway and coming down
towards her.

He nodded in greeting but said nothing as he stepped, a little unsteadily, on to firm ground.

‘Joe, it’s Thelma. She’s in hospital, son. I’m sorry, but she’s lost the bairn.’

He stood staring at her for a moment. Then, she saw him glance down at the mound beneath her own coat and his mouth twisted with bitterness. Still without a word, he turned and walked unsteadily
away from her.

‘Joe,’ she called after him, but he did not look back.

She turned and glanced up at the ship to see Sammy standing at the top of the gangway, but instead of coming down to speak to her he, too, turned away and disappeared from her sight.

Jeannie, her eyes blurring with tears, walked back along the quay to the Gorton offices where she knew Robert was waiting for her.

When the child – the boy that Robert so wanted – was born Jeannie was surprised how quick and easy it was. She had expected a difficult confinement considering her
age and the fact that it had been twenty-two years since she had given birth to Joe.

She was given a room on her own in the hospital with the child in a cradle at the side of her bed. When Robert came to visit her and she saw him standing in the doorway, his arms full of flowers
beaming like a Cheshire cat, Jeannie burst into tears.

‘Oh darling . . .’ He flung the flowers down and sat on the edge of the bed and drew her to him.

‘You’re not – supposed to sit on the – bed,’ she hiccupped, her words muffled against his chest. ‘Sister will have a fit.’

‘Never mind the sister. I’ll buy her a whole new bed if I have to. Now, come, dry your tears. Show me my son, Jeannie.’

Still leaning against him, she glanced down towards the cradle, saying nothing.

‘He – he is all right, isn’t he?’ Robert asked anxiously.

She nodded. ‘He’s perfect. Just perfect. He’s even . . .’ her voice became high-pitched as fresh tears threatened, ‘. . . got my red hair. That’s why I feel
so guilty.’

‘Eh?’ Robert said, trying to make light of what she was saying, trying to sound as if he did not already understand what meaning lay behind her words. ‘You feel guilty because
he’s got your red hair?’

‘Oh Robert . . .’ She clung to him then, fiercely like a drowning person. ‘You’re going to hate me. I didn’t want him. I kept wishing that . . . that . . . Oh it
was so wicked of me. I’ll never forgive myself. And then when poor Thelma lost hers . . .’ She was babbling, the words pouring out in a tumult of pent-up emotion. ‘And now, I love
him so much if anything were to happen to him . . .’

‘Nothing’s going to happen to him. I promise you.’

A shudder ran through her. He meant it, she knew he did, but that was something outside the power even of Robert Gorton.

He had not been able to fulfil that other promise he had made her. That one day she would be reunited with Joe and Sammy.

‘You spoil him.’

‘So do you.’

They laughed and then put their arms about each other standing looking down into the cot and the sweet face of their child. Jeannie and her son had been home from the hospital a week and every
day Robert had returned from the office with yet another toy or a tiny new outfit for the little chap. But he never omitted, too, to bring flowers or perfume or chocolates for the new mother.
During that first week, Jeannie had barely left the nursery, even though Robert had employed a capable nursemaid. She even hovered close by whilst the child slept.

‘He’s perfect,’ she murmured. ‘I just canna believe I’ve been so lucky. I dinna deserve to be . . .’

‘Now, now, stop that,’ Robert remonstrated gently and tactfully changed the subject. ‘Edwin has asked if he can come and see him tomorrow.’

‘Of course he can.’

He thought for a moment and then said, ‘I was thinking that we should ask Edwin to be godfather, but we could ask Joe and Sammy instead, if you like. If you think it would help?’

‘It’s sweet of you to suggest it, Robert. But I don’t really think it would. Besides, I want to ask your brother to be his godfather. I like Edwin.’

‘But you could ask Joe and Sammy as well, you know.’

‘I’ll see. I’ll think about it.’

‘So, are we decided on his name then?’

Jeannie smiled as she looked up at him. ‘If you’re really sure you dinna mind?’

‘Of course, I don’t. Angus Buchanan Gorton, it is.’

Since the birth of her own child, in robust health, Jeannie had found it difficult to bring herself to go to see Thelma. But when she had been home three weeks, she realized
she could not put the moment off any longer. Taking fruit and flowers, she knocked once more on the door of the house in Wessex Street.

Thelma’s eyes widened when she saw Jeannie. ‘You can’t come in,’ she said bluntly. ‘He’s home. At least, he’s at the Fisherman’s. He could come
back at any minute.’

‘That’s all right,’ Jeannie said calmly, stepping over the threshold. ‘I want a word with Joe anyway. How are you feeling, hen?’

The girl shrugged listlessly. ‘All right.’ She paused and then glanced keenly at Jeannie. ‘You aren’t going to tell him, are you?’ Her eyes were brimming with tears
as she whispered, ‘He must never know. Never. I was a fool. I love Joe. I couldn’t bear to lose him.’

Jeannie swallowed the huge lump that rose in her throat. No more can I, she wanted to say, but it looks as if I already have. Instead she said aloud, ‘No. I gave you my word. I won’t
break it, whatever happens.’

The girl seemed to relax. ‘Would you like a cuppa?’

‘I’d love one, but I thought you didna want me to stay?’

Thelma smiled suddenly and her young face lost some of its misery. ‘Oh sod ’im, for once,’ she said. ‘You’ve been good to me, Mam. He’s a fool, the way
he’s acting, if you ask me.’

‘Well, I dinna want to cause trouble between the two of you.’

Again she shrugged. ‘Oh I can handle Joe,’ she said, more confident now that she had extracted Jeannie’s promise. ‘Dun’t you worry.’

Jeannie placed her gifts on the table, wondering at the sudden change in the girl’s attitude towards her. Wondering if it would last.

As she set a cup of tea in front of Jeannie, Thelma said, ‘You’d better have all the baby clothes I’d got ready. I shan’t be wanting them.’

‘Of course you will,’ Jeannie tried to say briskly. ‘You’re young. There’ll be more bairns.’

Thelma shook her head. ‘The doctor seemed to think I didn’t ought to have any more. It might be dangerous.’

‘Och, what do they know?’ Jeannie tried to reassure her, but in her heart she knew that the medical advice would not have been given lightly. ‘Give yourself time to heal and
then see, eh?’

There was silence between them before Thelma said suddenly, ‘I told Joe you’d been here. I told him how good you’d been to me. Stayin’ with me an’ that and getting
me to the hospital.’

‘But – he still doesna want to see me?’

Thelma pressed her lips together and shook her head. ‘He . . .’ she began, but at that moment they both heard the back door open. There was only a chance for the two women to
exchange a glance before Joe lurched into the room.

He stood in the doorway, swaying slightly and blinking as if to focus his gaze. ‘What the hell is
she
doing in my house? I thought I told you . . .’

Before the girl could speak, Jeannie rose. ‘I’m going. I came to ask you to be godfather to your brother, but it seems I’m wasting ma breath.’

‘You are,’ her son said. ‘I want nowt to do wi’ any of that family. Nor you, now you’re a part of it. Far as I’m concerned, I have no brother.’

‘I’m sorry you feel that way, son. I’ll no’ be coming here again. But if ever you need me . . .’ she paused fractionally as her glance flickered briefly towards
Thelma to include her too, ‘you know where to find me.’

‘Not afore the North Sea freezes over,’ Joe muttered through clenched teeth as he moved away from the door to allow her to leave.

As she walked up Wessex Street, Jeannie felt the tears burn behind her eyelids and the lump grow and grow in her throat. She longed to rush home to Robert, to feel his arms around her and to
stand with him and look down upon their child. But there was one more place she must visit first.

‘Mam!’

She saw the surprise in Sammy’s eyes as he opened the door and the fleeting pleasure, but it was gone so swiftly that she wondered if she had fondly imagined it. Now the veil of
disapproval had come down once more. He seemed edgy, too, for he glanced over his shoulder and made no move to invite her into her old home.

Then she understood as a girlish voice called out, ‘Who is it, Sammy?’

Jeannie’s mouth twitched with amusement. ‘Och I’m sorry, I wouldna want to spoil your homecoming.’

He gave a swift grin and for a moment his eyes danced with mischief. ‘Just me girlfriend. That’s all.’

‘Aye.’

They stood in awkward silence for a moment and then both spoke at once.

‘What was it . . .?’

‘Sammy, I just wanted . . .’

They both stopped and then Sammy gestured that she should continue.

‘I’ve been to see Joe. He’s still adamant. I just wondered. Are you?’

The young man sighed heavily and closed his eyes a moment. ‘I don’t want it to be like this, Mam. I never did. If only you hadn’t married
him
. If it’d’ve
been anyone but him, we’d have understood. I don’t think even Joe, in time, would have expected you to spend the rest of your life alone, you know? But to marry that man, after all
that’s happened. Well, we just can’t handle it.’

‘Oh Sammy.’ Her heart was heavy. ‘I’m sorry too.’ There was another pause before she said sadly, ‘If that’s all you’ve got to say, then I’d
best be on ma way. But I’ll always be there for you, son. If you need me. Whatever you feel about me now, I’ll always be your “Mam”.’

For a moment, she thought she had broken his resolve. Sammy’s face crumpled and, for one heart-stopping moment, she thought he was going to fling his arms about her and bury his head
against her shoulder.

But in that instance the plaintive voice from inside the house came again. ‘Sammy . . .?’

He turned away and quietly closed the door in her face.

So Joe and Sammy never saw Angus grow up. They were not around to witness the surprise on the child’s face the first time he found he could roll over, nor the delight
when he fathomed out how to crawl and reach the things he wanted. They were not there to teach him his first words nor to hold out their hands to him as he tottered to his feet, for all the world
like a fisherman coming ashore. They were missing from his christening and his first birthday party.

In the early years of his life, Angus, knowing no different, was unaware of the lack of their presence in his life. His father doted on him and his mother, compensating for the guilt she felt,
idolized him. She channelled all the love that she could no longer show towards the two older boys into this one tiny infant. That he grew into a sunny-natured, unspoilt child, was nothing short of
a miracle. Anything he wanted, he got; anything he wanted to do – within reason on the grounds of safety – he did. Even his uncle was bowled over by the red-haired, mischievous little
rascal.

‘Wouldn’t old Samuel have been tickled pink by him,’ Edwin would say, sitting on the lawn with Robert and Jeannie watching the boy’s first faltering steps. As he sat down
with a thump, each one of the grown-ups made a start forward, hands outstretched towards him. But the child merely chuckled, turned a beatific smile upon them and hauled himself upright to try
again. ‘He’s a real charmer with that smile of his,’ Edwin murmured, never taking his eyes off his nephew and godson.

At a year old Angus was walking sturdily. At two, he was saying several words clearly and once he learnt how to string words together, he never stopped talking. From morning until he fell asleep
at night, he chattered.

‘He’s so clever,’ Jeannie would say, her fond gaze following him everywhere. And then, briefly, her eyes would cloud. ‘I do so wish Joe and Sammy could see
him.’

‘I saw them last week,’ Robert told her gently and, when the hope flared in her eyes, he wondered if he had been wrong to mention it. Quickly he said, ‘My dear, I’m
sorry, but they’re still resolute.’

‘You talked to them? How are they? Are they well? Is Joe a father yet?’

‘They’re fine,’ Robert said carefully. ‘Rumour has it . . .’ he paused and Jeannie held her breath, ‘that poor Thelma can’t have children now.
It’s a shame, not only for them, but for you too. Perhaps, if Joe were to become a father, he might soften in his attitude a little. Towards you, I mean, if he knew what it was like to have
children of his own.’

She sighed and then asked, ‘And Sammy? Is he married yet?’

‘No. He’s still living in the house in Baldock Street. He has some lodgers, I believe, so that the house is occupied whilst he’s at sea.’

‘And Helen? Is he still with Helen?’

Robert shook his head. ‘Lord, no. By all accounts, he has a different girlfriend every shore leave.’

‘Huh, just like his father,’ Jeannie said bitterly. ‘I hope he’s not as cruel and unfeeling as Francis was, Robert. I hope there’s a little of you and Edwin in
him.’