The Harbour Girl (29 page)

Connie screwed up her mouth after he’d left. ‘I’d nivver be able to get any man to do owt for me. That’s a knack I haven’t got.’ She sounded like the old downtrodden Connie she had previously been.

‘If Harry had been here – but he’s not, so who else could I ask to fetch it? I have to have it, Connie, or I can’t work. I can do the smaller nets on my knee, but what about when Jack starts crawling?’

‘That won’t be yet for a bit!’ Connie exclaimed. ‘’Bairn’s onny a month old.’

Jeannie knelt by the hearth and blew on the firewood to stir the flame. ‘I’ve still got to look ahead. Harry might not be home for a couple of weeks.’ She looked up at Connie. ‘How am I supposed to live in the meantime unless I do the mending?’

‘There’s my money,’ Connie said, suddenly pouty and sullen.

‘I know, and I’m grateful. I don’t know how I’d have managed without you, but I need to earn some money of my own. It’s not fair that you should have to provide for me.’

Connie sat down and looked down at her hands. ‘Nobody’s ever needed me afore,’ she muttered. ‘I was quite enjoying that. My da didn’t want me with him and my ma couldn’t have cared less. I’ve felt useful for these last few weeks, but I should have known it wouldn’t last.’

Jeannie rocked back on her heels. ‘Connie! You’ve been a godsend. All I’m saying is that whilst Harry’s away I need to earn some money. You’re a friend. I’m not asking for your friendship because of the wages you’re bringing in!’

Connie gazed at her and then looked away. ‘Do you mean that if I lost my job and didn’t have any money, we’d still be friends?’

Jeannie put her hands to her head. ‘Of course we would! What sort of person do you take me for?’

Connie gave a shrug. ‘Dunno.’

Mike not only brought the stand but also erected it in the yard so that it was in place as soon as Jeannie was ready to use it. She didn’t ask him if he had any nets for her as she didn’t want to stretch their friendship too far or presume any favouritism; but a week later he brought a trawl net which was badly damaged and needed almost a week’s work to repair it.

It was bitterly cold out in the yard and although she was wearing most of her outdoor clothes, her rubber boots, thick socks and a shawl wrapped around her head, she couldn’t work for more than an hour without coming in to warm herself by the fire. She also wanted to keep checking on Jack, who was wrapped in a blanket in a basket which she placed in the middle of the table away from any draughts.

She and Connie practically lived on fish, boiled potatoes and cabbage, but the cabbage produced colicky wind in Jack and he kicked his little legs and screamed, so she had to stop eating it. She bought milk from a dairy two streets away and boiled it thoroughly before making semolina puddings. She had seen the thin and unhealthy-looking cows paddling about in their undrained stalls and the cowman with his unwashed hands and wasn’t prepared to take any chances. When Connie brought home her wages and Mike paid her for the mending, they shopped at the butcher’s for marrow bones for making broth, and, feeling relatively well off, bought a pound of scrag end of beef for a stew.

There were a great many shops springing up, fronting the road and in the side streets which housed the mass of people who worked in the fishing industry, on the docks or on the railway; most of them, Connie told her, had come during the period when St Andrew’s Dock was being built. There were also new churches, banks and pawnbrokers to serve every need of the community. But this end of the road, as Mike Gardiner had said, was an area of great poverty, and Jeannie saw many barefoot and bedraggled children sitting at the edge of the footpath, hoping, she assumed, to beg a penny or a crust from a passer-by.

‘Saturday night is ’night to stop at home,’ Connie told her. ‘Especially when you’ve got a young bairn. ’Road is packed wi’ folks and all ’pubs and hostelries are full. Some of ’shops are open till midnight and you can hardly get through ’crowds.’

They had been living in the house for nearly five weeks, and Jeannie was beginning to worry about Harry. She was also worried about paying the rent. She had kept back some money from the net mending, but hadn’t worked on any more since the one that Mike had brought.

‘Wives and mothers do them,’ Connie said, when Jeannie told her about her fears. ‘There’re not many fishermen who are looking to put ’em elsewhere. Course, you could allus get work on ’fish quay.’ She shrugged. ‘I dunno what other women do. Tek their bairns to a child minder, mebbe, if there isn’t a gran to look after them.’

‘No!’ Jeannie hugged Jack closer. ‘Never.’

A few days later, Connie was about to leave to go to work and Jeannie was sitting feeding Jack when there was a hammering on the door. Connie froze. It seemed that she never got over the fear that her uncle would come looking for her.

‘I daren’t go,’ she whispered. ‘It might be Uncle Des.’

‘He doesn’t know where we are,’ Jeannie whispered back.

‘He does.’ Connie stared at her. ‘He’d mek it his business to find out.’

The hammering got louder. Jeannie got up and handed the baby to Connie. She wrapped her shawl closer over her night shift. ‘I’ll go,’ she said. ‘He’ll get a piece of my mind if it is him.’

She opened the door a crack and peeped out. It was still dark and there was no light outside; but a smile crept over her mouth as she recognized the size and shape of the man at the door.

‘
Harry!
Oh, Harry. At last!’ She opened the door wide to let him in, but drew back as she saw the anger on his face.

‘What the devil are you doing here?’ His voice was loud and furious. ‘I’ve been home and somebody else is living in our house! I’ve had ’devil’s own job to find you.’

He stepped inside and saw Connie holding Jack. ‘What’s going on? Why’s she holding ’bairn? And where’s Nan?’

Jeannie took Jack from Connie. ‘You get off,’ she murmured. ‘Don’t be late for work. Come and sit down, Harry. The fire will soon be ablaze.’

He glared at her. ‘Don’t try and soft-soap me! What a fool I must’ve looked, not knowing where me own house was.’

‘We – we didn’t know when you’d be home. Mike Gardiner was going to try to catch you when your ship docked – to tell you.’

‘Mike Gardiner!’ he bellowed. ‘What’s he bin doing sniffing around while I’m away?’

‘Helping,’ she said weakly, knowing how pathetic that would sound when he didn’t know the circumstances.

‘Where’s Nan? I can’t understand her allowing you to move. She’s lived in that house for years; brought me up there. What happened?’

He seemed a little calmer. Taking off his coat, he sat abruptly in the chair nearest the fire. She took the one opposite him.

‘I’m sorry, Harry. I’ve got some really bad news and you’re going to be upset, but I have to tell you.’

Harry stared at her. ‘What?’

‘Nan was taken ill. She died, Harry.’ Tears trickled down her face when she saw how shocked he was. ‘It was very sudden. I asked Mrs Norman to come in and look at her because she seemed unwell. I thought she might know what was wrong, and Nan died whilst she was there. We had to have the funeral. We couldn’t wait. Everybody said how nice it was and – and there were a lot of people there. I couldn’t go because of the bairn, and …’ Her words trailed away. There really wasn’t any more she could say.

Harry put his head in his hands. ‘No. I don’t believe it. Not Nan. Nan’s allus bin there for us.’ He fished in his pocket for a handkerchief and brought out a grey rag. He blew his nose. ‘Did you fetch ’doctor?’

Jeannie shook her head. ‘There wasn’t time,’ she said softly. ‘It was too sudden. Mrs Norman had come to see how she was, and she stayed with Nan whilst I went to be churched.’ Harry looked at her with a question in his eyes and a frown on his forehead, and she hurried on. ‘I had to do it, Harry, otherwise it meant that I couldn’t go out to do the shopping or anything if Nan wasn’t well, and when I got back – I was only ten minutes – Nan had died and Mrs Norman was waiting to tell me.’

She wiped away her tears and decided that she wouldn’t tell him how helpful Mike Gardiner had been, in case he took offence. But she told him that Mrs Norman had put on a funeral tea and that people she didn’t even know had come round with parcels of food for her.

Harry sniffed. ‘I still don’t see why you had to move,’ he said. ‘Specially to a place like this. You shouldn’t have made that decision yourself. You should’ve waited for me to come home.’

‘It was because of the rent,’ she explained. ‘It was in arrears and I had no money to pay. Connie had been paying her board, but that wasn’t enough for the rent as well. Then there was the chance of this house,’ she rushed on. ‘And it’s less rent and quite big enough; we don’t really need a front room.’

He sat silently, just looking into the fire. ‘You mean that Nan hadn’t been paying ’rent?’

She nodded, and then said, ‘I think she’d been struggling, but she never said. She’d always managed before, I suppose, and didn’t like anybody else interfering with her affairs.’ Especially somebody like me, she thought.

‘All right,’ he muttered grudgingly. ‘I expect you did what you could. Who paid for ’funeral?’

She swallowed. ‘Mike Gardiner. He said he would sort it out with you when you came home. I didn’t know if Nan paid into a subscription club.’ She saw the fury in his face when she mentioned Mike’s name. ‘And I knew you wouldn’t want her to have a pauper’s funeral.’

His mouth dropped open as the possibility dawned on him. ‘No I wouldn’t,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I’d onny ever want ’best for her.’

‘That’s what she had, Harry, and it was because of your friends being there when they were needed. Mrs Norman, Mike Gardiner and Connie. I don’t know how I would have managed without them.’

He got up from the chair. ‘I’ll go and see them,’ he said. ‘So Connie’s still living here, is she?’

‘Yes. Is that all right, Harry?’ she asked in a small pleading voice. ‘It’d be very lonely for me on my own when you’re away.’

‘Aye.’ He appeared to consider for a moment. ‘I expect it would. An’ she’ll be glad to stop, I expect.’ He glanced round the room and saw the familiar furniture, though it was cramped in the smaller room. ‘This’ll do for ’time being, till we get on our feet, but then
I’ll
decide whether we flit or not. Now then. Give us hod of ’bairn and you can cook me breakfast.’

‘There’s nothing to cook,’ she said. ‘No bacon or eggs, I mean. I can make you some porridge; that’s what we’ve had.’

He stared at her, holding the child awkwardly on his knee. ‘No grub? You mean I’ve come home after being at sea all these weeks and there’s nowt to eat?’

She shook her head. ‘There’s no money left. Not until Connie gets paid. If …’ She hardly dared ask. ‘If you’ve got your wages I’ll slip out and buy some food.’

He stood up and handed Jack to her, then fished in his pocket and threw some money on the table.

‘Don’t bother,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll go and get myself a steak pie from ’Wassand.’

‘It’s no bother,’ she insisted. ‘I can go to the corner shop and get bacon and bread. It’ll be good to have a proper meal.’

But he just looked at her and put his coat back on.

‘Harry,’ she begged. ‘Please don’t go out. I want to talk to you. I want to know how you’ve been, what sort of voyage you’ve had. And to tell you about Jack.’

‘What about him?’

‘Well, how he’s thriving, and—’

‘That’s women’s stuff,’ he said abruptly. ‘Not mine.’ He pulled up his coat collar. ‘I’ll see you later.’

CHAPTER THIRTY

IT WAS VERY cold on the Scarborough fish wharves and someone had lit a brazier for the women to warm themselves by. Most of them wore fingerless gloves as they braided but even so their finger ends became blue with cold.

Mary was barely recognizable beneath her shawls and Josh Wharton laughed when he eventually found her.

‘I’ve peered into every braider’s eyes,’ he said, his mouth creased with good humour, ‘and been given a tongue-lashing for it.’

She smiled back. ‘They wouldn’t mean it, Josh. Not with you. They all know which side their bread is buttered.’

Josh was instrumental in bringing the women nets to mend, but that apart he was still an attractive man and many a single or widowed woman had him in their sights as a possible husband. Mary didn’t know whether or not he was aware of it, for he never showed interest in any of them, even though there was every opportunity.

‘You flatter me, Mary,’ he said. ‘Which is unlike you. Come on, come and take a walk. Stretch your legs and get the blood coursing through your veins.’

She nodded. ‘I will. Just give me five minutes and I’ll meet you along the harbour side.’ Not only did she want to tie off what she was doing, but she did not want it to be too obvious that she was meeting Josh. Though she always said she was satisfied with her single life some of the women would read more into it than there was.

She saw him standing by a soup stall which a former seaman had set up when he could no longer go out to sea. His wife made the soup and he sold it at a small profit mainly to the women braiders or the men who had just landed their catch and were ready for sustenance.

‘Here, Mary. This’ll warm you up.’ Josh handed her a bowl of vegetable soup, thick with potatoes and carrot.