The Harbour Girl (25 page)

‘They mebbe have,’ Nan answered and Jeannie looked up, having forgotten her question. ‘Mrs Norman will have spread ’news. He’ll be rushing home any time now.’

But two o’clock came and then three, and conviction grew upon Jeannie that Harry had gone straight to the Wassand Arms and was spending his hard-earned wages. At half past three the back door crashed open and Harry staggered in.

‘Let’s have a look at him,’ he bellowed, coming into the kitchen. ‘Let’s see my son.’

His face was weathered and his dark hair curled on his neck. He wasn’t drunk but he was very merry, and Jeannie thought she couldn’t blame him for that. On hearing the news that he was a father his mates would no doubt have carried him off to celebrate the birth.

She lifted the baby out of his basket, loosened his swaddling sheet and held him up to Harry, but Harry stepped back as if astonished. ‘He’s onny little, isn’t he? Will he grow?’

‘Come and sit down, Harry,’ Jeannie said, feeling slightly put out that he hadn’t even looked at her, ‘and then you can hold him.’

‘I don’t think I want to.’ He frowned, but bent closer. ‘Look at his little fingers.’ Tentatively he put a finger towards him and Jack curled his tiny hand over it. ‘Look at that,’ he breathed. ‘How strong he is. Do you think he knows who I am, Jeannie?’

‘Yes,’ she said, feeling a rush of tenderness for the father of her child. ‘I think he knows that you’re his da.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

HARRY HAD BROUGHT home a parcel of fish, which Nan set about cooking straight away.

‘Not sure if I want any, Nan,’ Harry said. ‘Have you nowt else?’

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘We haven’t. But tomorrow we’ll have a joint o’ beef an’ Yorkshire pudding an’ savoury sausage meat,
and
,’ she said, turning to look at him, ‘Christmas pudding. And if you’ve any money left over mebbe we could run to a drop o’ brandy for ’sauce.’

Harry grinned, and putting his hand in his pocket brought out a small bottle. ‘You see! You thought I’d forget, didn’t you?’

Nan took it from him. ‘Yes, I did,’ she said, and Jeannie, not part of this tradition, looked on at Nan’s softened expression and Harry’s satisfied smirk, and felt like a stranger.

Harry tipped out the money in his pocket and threw it on the table. ‘There you are. There’s me wages. Well – most of it.’

Jeannie and Nan both looked at the small amount and although Jeannie said nothing, meaning to have a discussion later, Nan asked, ‘Is that all there is? It don’t seem much for ’time you’ve been away.’

Harry shrugged. ‘I was onny third hand, so no bonus is there? And ’word is that smacks are finished; there’s no profit any more.’ He paused for a second and then said, ‘So I’m applying to go wi’ one of ’bigger companies. Trawling.’

‘Trawling?’ Jeannie and Nan said as one. ‘You’ll be away longer,’ Jeannie added, ‘but there’ll be more security, won’t there?’

Nan gazed solidly at Harry. ‘They’ll have you, will they?’

‘Aye, they will. That other business is forgotten. I wasn’t ’onny one who was blackballed,’ he said sharply.

‘Which company?’ Nan asked, unperturbed by his manner.

‘Humber Steam,’ he said. ‘It’s well established. Plenty o’ capital.’

Nan’s mouth shaped into a round O. ‘That it is,’ she said. ‘Wish I’d had some money for a share in it.’ She turned to Jeannie. ‘Humber Steam ’n’ Fishing,’ she told her. ‘He’ll be all right wi’ them if he can get took on. They’ve got new steam trawlers as well as adapted ones. And ice,’ she added.

She was well informed, Jeannie thought. The fishermen’s wives and mothers, and grandmothers too, it seemed, always were. They had the best interests of their men at heart and were always supportive, often vehemently so. But, she thought, working for such a large company Harry could never aspire to being more than a skipper. If smacks were finished, as he said, there would be no opportunity for a fisherman like Harry to become master of his own vessel. Men like Josh Wharton and Ethan who had bought shares in their ships would become a dying breed.

This Christmas Day was going to be very special, Jeannie thought. Jack was nine days old, Harry was confident of getting a ship and life seemed much rosier than it had previously. She wrote to her mother and Tom and told them of Jack’s safe arrival and that she would try to come to Scarborough in the spring and bring Jack to see them.

‘You’ll adore him, Ma,’ she wrote. ‘He’s an angel. Nan says he looks like Harry, but I’m sure you’ll say that he looks like me. I haven’t been out yet, and am waiting until he’s been baptized, which will probably be in the New Year.’

She had felt very homesick as she gave Harry the letter to put in the post box when he went out on Christmas morning to meet his mates at the Wassand Arms. She didn’t begrudge him this pleasure; she and Nan were preparing food and he had promised to be home by midday. Nan had warned him that if he wasn’t home as agreed then they would start without him; she wouldn’t overcook the beef and let it spoil, she told him.

She and Jeannie had decided between them that they would have the meal ready by half past twelve in case he was late, and at precisely that time the yard door opened and Harry came in. ‘I’m not late, am I?’

Jeannie was in the scullery and had started to smile at his sheepish demeanour when she realized that he seemed agitated. ‘What is it, Harry?’

He put his finger to his lips. ‘Trouble, I think,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t know what to do.’

Jeannie’s brows creased. ‘Is something wrong?’

Harry nodded, and putting his hand on the door sneck said, ‘It’s Connie. She’s outside.’

‘What’s happened? Bring her in.’

He shook his head. ‘Nan!’

Harry didn’t know that Connie had been there when Jack was born, that Nan had, grudgingly at first, allowed her inside the house. Or that she had been useful to her.

Jeannie put her hand over his. ‘Let her in,’ she said. ‘It’ll be all right.’

He bit on his lip. ‘You sure?’

‘Yes,’ she said, and he opened the door.

Connie was out of sight, crouching by the wall. Harry went out and pulled her to her feet and she turned towards Jeannie.

‘I didn’t want to come,’ she said thickly. ‘But Harry said I should.’

Jeannie was appalled at the sight of her. Connie’s mouth was swollen, her lips twice their size; her cheeks and nose were puffy and one eye was completely closed. She was dressed inappropriately for the time of year, with just a thin shawl over her cotton skirt and bodice.

‘Who did this to you, Connie?’ Jeannie drew her into the scullery.

Connie shook her head. ‘Can’t say,’ she mumbled, ‘or I’ll get more of ’same.’

‘Her uncle,’ Harry blurted out. ‘That’s who! Bastard! He’ll know about this, just see if he doesn’t.’

‘No,’ Connie moaned. ‘Don’t! You’ll mek it worse.’

‘What’s going on? ’Dinner’s spoiling in here—’ Nan came through from the kitchen but stopped when she saw Connie and ran her tongue over her lips. ‘You’d better bring her in,’ she said. ‘She’ll need a cold compress on that eye.’

Harry stared at his grandmother. He clearly wasn’t expecting such a comment. He ushered Connie in and turned to Jeannie with a questioning glance.

‘I’ll explain later,’ she breathed. ‘Connie was here when the bairn was born.’

Nan sat Connie down by the fire, and fetched a bowl of cold water and a cloth. ‘Here,’ she said to Jeannie. ‘You bathe her eye while I dish up. Yorkshires are done. They’ll be ruined if we don’t eat ’em now.’

As Jeannie drew up a chair in front of Connie and applied the wet cloth to her face, she saw Nan take another plate from the shelf, to make four. She gave an inward sigh of relief. The animosity appeared to be over. Connie was going to eat with them.

The meal was eaten in silence, apart from Harry’s attempts to be jolly and exclamations that this was the best meal he had had in weeks. It was true the beef was tender and the puddings risen and golden. Connie ate very little, and Jeannie guessed that it wasn’t because she wasn’t hungry, but because her face ached. She put her hand over her mouth at one point and mumbled that she had lost a tooth.

Whilst Nan dished up the Christmas pudding, Connie cleared away the dirty dishes and put them in the scullery sink. Jeannie followed her in.

‘When did this happen, Connie?’ she asked in a low voice.

Connie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Day after I’d been here. Somebody had seen me coming out and told my ma. She slapped me about an’ said I hadn’t to come again, but then when Uncle Des came in he asked why I was crying an’ she told him.’ She took a choking breath. ‘An’ he said he’d give me summat to cry about. He gave me a good hiding an’ when I tried to get away from him I fell over and hit my face on ’table.’ Tears ran down her cheeks. ‘He pushed me out of ’door an’ told me not to come back till I’d bucked my ideas up or he’d give me summat else to remember.’

‘So where have you been since then?’ Jeannie whispered.

Connie shook her head. ‘Nowhere. Just wandering about. I couldn’t go to work looking like this, could I?’ She sniffled. ‘I’ve probably lost my job anyway. ’Foreman won’t have kept it; there’s plenty o’ lasses looking for work.’

‘Come on; stop that nattering in there.’ Nan’s voice called them back to the table, and as Jeannie was finishing her pudding Jack woke up and bawled with such intensity that Harry cringed and Jeannie had to put down her spoon and feed the hungry baby straight away.

‘By, he’s got some lungs on him, hasn’t he,’ Harry said in amazement. ‘You wouldn’t think that such a little bairn could mek a row like that.’

‘He’s got to shout to mek himself heard,’ Nan said, ‘otherwise we’d never know.’

Connie got up from the table and began clearing away. ‘Can I wash ’dishes, Mrs Carr? Then I’ll get off out of your road.’

Nan pursed her lips and nodded. ‘Aye, you can.’ She paused, not looking at Connie. Then she lifted her head and stared straight at her. ‘An’ then where’ll you go?’

‘Dunno.’ Connie shook her head. ‘Not home, anyway. I daren’t go back. I’m too scared o’
him
. I think he’ll kill me.’

Jeannie drew in a breath and the baby hiccuped. ‘You can’t live on the street, Connie. You’ll be arrested as a vagrant.’

‘I’d get a roof over my head then, wouldn’t I?’ Connie said miserably. ‘It’s that or ’workhouse.’ She put her head down and muttered, ‘It’s cold out on ’street – and dark – and I kept getting accosted by drunks.’

‘All right!’ Nan seemed to have come to a decision. She sat up straight and folded her stick-like arms in front of her. ‘It’s Christmas and I wouldn’t like to think I was found wanting in Christian charity. I’ll not pretend that I want you here, cos I don’t, not after what has gone on afore wi’ your family an’ mine; but I’d not let a dog roam ’street at this time o’ year, let alone a fellow human being. You can stop here till you find somewhere else; a room or lodgings. There isn’t a bed, but you can sleep on ’rug in front o’ fire.’

Connie stared at her, her lips parted. She seemed to be having trouble breathing, but Jeannie thought that was because of her swollen nose.

‘I’ll have to find work afore I can afford a room, Mrs Carr, an’ I’ve no money for my keep. I gave my wages to my ma.’

Nan pondered, and both Jeannie and Harry sat looking at her, waiting for her decision.

‘As soon as you’re earning then,’ she said at last. ‘You’ll give me your first shilling an’ after that you can look for a room.’

‘Oh, thank you.’ The relief in Connie’s voice was plain. ‘Thank you. I’ll not be a bother, an’ I’ll clean for you or do any jobs that you ask.’

Nan nodded. ‘You can start tomorrow an’ donkey-stone ’doorstep. I like to see it white. And when you’ve done that you can go back to ’dock an’ see if your old job’s still open. Never mind about your black eye. Let ’shame of Des Turnby’s fist be clear for everybody to see.’

Connie managed a smile but it was evident that she wasn’t too happy about that command. ‘I usually lie about me bruises,’ she said.

‘And your damaged hand?’ Jeannie asked.

Miserably she nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Though I expect everybody knows. They all know what he’s like. He used to beat up his lads but now they’re bigger than him an’ fight back.’

‘What about them?’ Harry asked. ‘Have they ever hit you?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘An’ Des doesn’t hit me when they’re there. They’d stop him, I think. They’re nice lads.’

Harry knew Des Turnby’s two sons, and told Jeannie later, when they were alone in the kitchen whilst Connie and Nan cleared up in the scullery, that although they were tough lads when they were in drink, they would never hit a woman.

‘I suppose Connie would be too frightened of her uncle to tell them,’ she said.

‘She’s frightened of her own shadow,’ Harry said. ‘Always was, even when she was a bairn; an’ I expect she tells ’em ’same tale as she tells everybody else, that she’s fallen or bashed her head on summat.’

‘It’s a pity no one else has told them,’ Jeannie said. ‘They might warn their father off.’

Harry lifted his chin as he contemplated. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Mebbe they would.’

He went out later that evening after they’d eaten a Christmas tea of cold sausages, pork pie and pickles, followed by fruit cake and cheese. ‘Don’t wait up,’ he told Jeannie. ‘I’m meeting some of ’lads.’