The Harbour Girl (16 page)

He stopped speaking, as if he didn’t want to go on; as if some unwanted memory had rushed back at him.

‘So – did he miss it?’ Jeannie asked softly. ‘Did he miss the deck?’

‘Yeh,’ he muttered. ‘He’d reached it an’ I shoved, but he couldn’t hold his balance; he had one hand on ’bulwark an’ as he struggled to get on deck our boat dipped again an’ he was left wi’ his legs dangling an’ he fell into ’sea.’

Jeannie swallowed. She hardly dared ask the question, but as she knew well, fishing was a hazardous and dangerous occupation.

‘We lost him,’ Harry said quietly. ‘By ’time we saw him again he was way out o’ reach, an’ though everybody, even crews from ’other boats, tried to reach him we couldn’t cos ’sea was running that high.’

He turned to look at her. ‘’Skipper blamed me. He said that I wasn’t watching out for him, which wasn’t true. He was my best mate, course I was watching out for him,’ he said bitterly. ‘But I couldn’t go in ’open boat again on that trip, an’ ’skipper said I’d have to or he’d not tek me on again.’ He shook his head. ‘But I didn’t. I said I’d pack ’fish or cook or do owt else but I’d not go out in an open boat.’

He shook his head. ‘It was an unlucky trip. ’Next day we were nearly run down by a steamer, and ’following week a storm blew up and two of ’fleet were missing. Then we lost sight of ’Admiral of ’fleet an’ some of ’crew were all for packing up an’ going home but ’skipper would have none of it, so we went single boating to make up for ’loss of fish.’

He shrugged. ‘And then when we got home, I started drinking again, and I went to some meetings; some of ’fishermen wanted to strike against winter fleeting an’ I spoke up an’ that’s when I got blackballed. They said I was a troublemaker.’

They turned without speaking to make their way back from the vast dock towards Hessle Road; then Jeannie took his hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Really sorry about your friend; we’ll try to think of what to do. I’m sure there’ll be a company that’ll take you on. We’ll explain how you were affected by Joe’s death, and then maybe—’

He dropped her hand. ‘What do you mean
we’ll
think on what to do? There’ll be no
we
about it. I’m not having anybody thinking I can’t fight me own battles; that I’m hiding behind a woman’s skirts.’ He shook a finger at her. ‘Don’t you start interfering wi’ what I do or you’ll be sorry for it.’

Jeannie stared at him. That wasn’t what she’d intended. She hadn’t thought of interfering; but surely they could discuss their livelihood if it concerned them both? She would work, of course, that was why she had asked Billy to put up a rig for her, but until word got around that she was a good neat worker what would they live on?

She paused at the junction of Hessle Road and looked west. Here and there between the streets and beyond were patches of land which looked marshy, but some were being built on.

‘Come on,’ Harry said. ‘Look sharp.’

‘Where does the road lead to?’ she asked.

‘Hessle.’ His tone was begrudging. ‘That’s why it’s called Hessle Road! It’s where ’ship owners an’ ’company directors go to live once they’ve made their money. Build themselves big houses out of ’likes of such as us.’

‘But they’ve taken a chance, haven’t they? Some of them have worked their way up from being fishermen, I expect. You can’t blame people for trying to better themselves.’

He grunted and began to walk on in the direction of home. Jeannie followed more slowly. This was the first day of her marriage and it wasn’t turning out in the way she had hoped for. They were almost at their street end and outside a tavern when Harry turned to look back at her.

‘You go on home,’ he said. ‘I’m going for a drink. Tell Nan I’ll be in for supper.’

‘Tell her yourself,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘I’m not your servant.’

‘Did you say summat?’ He paused for a second with his hand on the tavern door, but she ignored him and walked on without even glancing in his direction, and said not a word in reply.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

WHEN JEANNIE PUSHED open the scullery door all was quiet, and when she entered the kitchen it seemed warm and cosy. Nan was asleep in the chair by the range but she roused herself, instantly alert, when Jeannie came in.

‘You can mek ’tea,’ she said. ‘I’m ready for a cup.’

‘There’s not much left,’ Jeannie said.

‘Try that one.’ Nan pointed to a corner wall cupboard. ‘I keep a supply in there.’

Jeannie reached up and brought down a brass tea caddy. ‘My gran has one just like this,’ she said. ‘She keeps it locked in a cupboard too, but she brings it out when my ma calls.’

‘Is that your da’s mother?’

Jeannie swung the kettle back over the fire and it soon began to steam. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Ma goes up quite a lot to make sure she’s all right. Gran can’t get down the hill now because of her legs.’

‘Mm. Not all daughters-in-law care one way or another. Mine didn’t, and sons-in-law aren’t much better either. I hardly ever see mine, nor my daughters either for that matter.’

Jeannie made the tea. ‘How many daughters have you got?’

‘Three,’ she said. ‘One of ’em’s married to a drunk, one’s gone to live in Lowestoft where his family live and ’other one’s done so well for herself that she hasn’t ’time or inclination to come and see her ma. There was onny Harry’s da who ever bothered and now he’s gone.’

‘Was your husband a seaman?’ Jeannie asked, taking two tin mugs out of another cupboard.

‘Aye, he was. You ask a lot o’ questions, don’t you?’ Nan said abruptly.

Jeannie sat down at the table to pour the tea. ‘It seems as if it’s the only way I’ll get to know who’s who. Harry’s told me nothing about anybody. I didn’t know he had a sister. I didn’t know his mother had left home.’

‘Aye, well,’ Nan sipped her tea. ‘He wasn’t encouraged to talk about her. She was a trollop and no mistake. I’m not even sure if all ’bairns belonged to Fred.’

‘Your son?’

‘Aye. Harry did, and Rosie. Harry’s spitting image of his da.’ She sighed. ‘Hasn’t got his backbone, though.’

‘How will we manage if Harry doesn’t get a ship?’ Jeannie asked. She felt this to be an opportune time to speak of it as Harry wasn’t there, and Nan hadn’t asked where he was; no doubt she knew or guessed. ‘I know I’m asking questions, but I need to know; I’ll have a bairn to think of before long. I’ve to feed and clothe it and I can’t do that on just mending nets.’ She paused for a second and then said, ‘I don’t want to go crawling back to Scarborough with my tail between my legs. I’ve got some pride.’

‘Huh! Pride, is it?’ Nan sneered. ‘There’ll be none o’ that left if we don’t mek ends meet. You should’ve thought o’ that some months back.’

Jeannie wanted to cry. Her dreams were shattered. A few moments of blissful ecstasy was all she and Harry had shared. Not love at all on Harry’s part, but simply lustful hunger, and on hers a youthful, yearning desire.

‘I should,’ she agreed. ‘I hadn’t thought of the consequences.’

Nan looked at her with something like pity, or it could have been scorn. ‘So are you going to leg it back to Scarborough to cry on your ma’s shoulder or are you stopping to face up to ’misfortune of your own mekkin’ and give your bairn a father?’ She stared hard at Jeannie, not helping her out at all, not making any suggestions or giving her advice, simply waiting for her decision.

Jeannie drank her tea before answering. It was strong – she’d put an extra spoonful of tea leaves in the pot and it was making her feel nauseous, yet she felt she couldn’t waste it.

She put the mug on the table and it rattled from the tremble in her fingers. Dared she go home and say she had left her husband? Dared she face up to all those who knew her; all the women and girls who worked at the harbourside? The fishermen who always had a word for her and her mother? Her mother! The shame wouldn’t be Jeannie’s alone. It was her ma’s and it was Tom’s and even Granny Marshall’s. And then there was Ethan. Could she ever face him again?

She shook her head and was conscious of Nan’s intent expression.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Like it or not, I’m stopping.’

Nan stood up and looked at her. ‘It’ll not be easy,’ she said brusquely. ‘Life’s very hard here, but folk help each other out. I don’t know of anywhere else but Hessle Road where they do.’

Jeannie nodded. It was no different from Scarborough, or at least Sandside, where the community stuck together, but she wasn’t going to spoil Nan’s illusion if that was what she believed. She also knew that she could expect no favours from her. Just because she was married to her grandson didn’t mean that Nan would warm to her or support her. Jeannie had heard her tart words to her granddaughter Rosie, and to Billy Norman, though not to Connie. She had barely spoken to Connie; it was as if she hadn’t even noticed that she was there.

Nan continued to gaze at her for a few seconds; she blinked a few times, pressed her lips together, and then said, ‘Right then. Let’s go up and swap ’bedrooms.’

Jeannie put her head on one side. ‘What?’

Nan gave a deep sigh. ‘I’ve slept in that bed for nigh on forty years. Nivver thought I’d have to give it up.’

‘But …’ Jeannie rose to her feet. ‘There’s no need. We’ll buy a bed as soon as …’

‘Aye, as soon as your ship comes in. I’ve heard that afore. In ’meantime you can have mine and I’ll have Harry’s.’

Jeannie noticed that it was still Harry’s bed and not hers and Harry’s.

Nan made her way to the stairs. ‘You’ll need a bigger bed when ’bairn comes, and,’ she added prosaically, ‘afore that too if you’re to mek summat of this marriage.’

Jeannie followed her up the narrow stairs and together they emptied a rickety chest of drawers of Nan’s hairbrush and other personal things, of which there were only a few, and moved them into the small bedroom. Then they moved Jeannie’s bag, which contained her everyday clothing, her apron and her boots, and Harry’s clothes, including his heavy boots, thick trousers and warm coat.

Jeannie picked them up and buried her nose in the coat; she thought she could smell the sea, or maybe it was fish.

‘Will he ever fish again?’ she murmured, more to herself than to Nan.

‘He’ll have to,’ came Nan’s terse reply. ‘Or we’ll all sink.’

When Harry arrived home it was well after supper time. Jeannie and Nan had had bread and cheese and a mug of cocoa. Nan had said that cocoa was good for pregnant women, that it helped to make strong bones for the growing child, and though Jeannie didn’t know that she was happy to drink it, for it was what she and Tom had always had when they were little.

‘Why didn’t you wait?’ Harry’s words were slurred. ‘I’m not late.’ He grinned. ‘
I’m not late, why didn’t you wait?
Hey. I’ve made poetry!’

Jeannie lifted her eyes from her knitting. Her mother had bought her some white wool and knitting needles and put them in her bag without telling her. She’d also put in instructions on how to knit a baby coat. Nan too was knitting a navy blue jumper, and Jeannie surmised it was a gansey for Harry.

‘Not exactly Wordsworth,’ she murmured, remembering her old teacher’s love of the poet and her efforts to drum up enthusiasm for poetry in the uninterested children, and recalling her own favourite.

With ships the sea was sprinkled far and nigh,

Like stars in heaven, and joyously it showed;

Some lying fast at anchor in the road,

Some veering up and down.

One knew not why.

‘But not a bad try,’ she conceded and began another row of stitches.

Harry stood over her. ‘Are you mocking me?’ His tone was belligerent.

‘No. Why would I do that?’

‘Sit down,’ Nan said, putting down her knitting and getting up from the chair. ‘I’ll mek you some supper.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘You sit down! Jeannie can do that. That’s her job from now on. Time you took it easy for a change.’

Jeannie put the knitting back into a paper bag and stood up. Harry moved into her chair. ‘Will you have the same as we’ve had?’ she asked. ‘Bread and cheese and cocoa?’

‘Aye, if there’s nowt else.’ He stretched his feet towards the hearth. ‘Haven’t you got a bit o’ beef?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘We had mutton for dinner, if you remember, but there’s none left.’

‘I’ll have cheese then. You’d best get off shopping down ’road tomorrow. Nan’ll show you ’best places to go, won’t you, Nan? Get some beef – or ham, I don’t mind a bit o’ ham.’

‘All right,’ she said amiably. ‘I’ll do that.’ No sense in bringing up the subject of money at this stage, she thought. Not in the irritable mood she sensed he was in. ‘Cocoa?’

‘No, an’ I don’t want tea either,’ he said, ‘so you can put ’teapot away.’

‘There’s nowt else,’ Nan broke in. ‘You’ve had plenty of ale by ’look of you.’

‘What is this?’ He got to his feet. ‘Are you two ganging up on me in me own house?’

‘You what!’ Nan stood up and faced him, putting her fists on her thin hips. ‘Whose house exactly? Who’s been paying ’rent all these months?’