The Harbour Girl (31 page)

‘Phew,’ Connie whispered as they heard him stumbling up the stairs. ‘I thought he was going to ask who’d helped you with ’move. It wouldn’t do to tell him it was Mike Gardiner.’

Jeannie pondered. What had brought that on? Harry had grumbled about Mike earlier and yet he’d given Harry his first chance of work; he’d proved to be a good friend. Why was he suddenly an undesirable person? It worried her, for Mike was the chief supplier of nets for her to work on.

She turned to Connie. ‘Why did you think that I didn’t want you here, Connie? I’ve never said that you should move out when Harry came home.’

Connie made a moue and shrugged. ‘Just thought you’d want Harry to yourself.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘You might not have wanted another woman in ’house.’

‘There’s no reason for you to think that. I’m happy for you to be here.’

Connie nodded and gazed into the fire. ‘That’s all right then.’

Jeannie cleared away the dishes. She felt as if there was a leaden lump in her chest. The food she had eaten tasted sour in her mouth and she wanted to cry. This should be a happy time, she thought. Harry was home from the sea, they had a young baby, they were a proper family at last. But something was wrong. No, she reflected, not so much wrong as not quite right.

Harry was home for a week before his ship was due to sail again. He generally spent the mornings in bed, awoke at midday, snatched whatever food Jeannie rustled up for him, and then went out, not returning until the evening in time for his next meal, after which he fell asleep in front of the fire. Bedtime was difficult for Jeannie for he was demanding sometimes, and uninterested in her at others. His tenderness had disappeared and she didn’t understand why.

Billy Norman called round after work early one evening to ask if Harry was in and was he coming out for a drink. ‘I’ve not seen him since he came home,’ he said. ‘Where’s he hiding himself?’

Jeannie invited him in; it was sleeting down, icy sharp needles which bounced off the ground, and he was very wet. She shook her head. ‘Hasn’t he been at the Wassand?’ she asked. ‘I thought that was his favourite place.’

‘I’ve not seen him there, though I don’t go in as much now that I’ve got a shore job. Don’t feel ’need.’ He must have seen something in her expression, for he enquired, ‘Nowt wrong, is there?’

When she didn’t answer but put her fingers to her mouth, he looked down at his boots and murmured, ‘You know, when you’ve been at sea, it’s a relief to have a drink wi’ your mates. You can talk to ’em about what’s happened on board, about what might have happened if such and such hadn’t done this or that, or have a jaw about ’weather an’ how many fish boxes an’ whether ’skipper would get a bonus an’ that …’ His voice tailed away as Jeannie opened her mouth to speak.

‘I know that, Billy. But he could tell
me
all of that. I’m a fisher girl after all. I do understand. I was brought up with fishing.’

‘Aye, an’ so are many of ’other wives on Hessle Road,’ he said. ‘An’ that’s one reason why I nivver settled down wi’ anybody. It didn’t seem fair somehow, when women are virtual widows when their men are at sea, for them not to have their company when they get home. Not all men are like that though,’ he added hastily. ‘Some of ’em don’t move from their fireside till they go back to sea again. They just want to stop wi’ their wives an’ bairns.’

Jeannie blinked away the tears that had started to form. How different Billy seemed now that she knew him better. When she’d first met him on that fateful day in Scarborough, he’d grinned at her and she’d thought he was assuming she was like the loose women who were seeing the men off at the station. Now she realized that he was a decent and considerate man.

‘An’ being married is new to Harry,’ he added. ‘He just had Nan before.’ He laughed. ‘An’ Nan wouldn’t have wanted him under her feet all day.’ His laugh was so infectious that she smiled back.

Poor Harry, she thought as she waved goodbye to Billy. He wasn’t ready for marriage, any more than I was. And now he has the responsibility of a wife and child when previously he was single and carefree. But as she closed the door, she also thought that Harry probably hadn’t been all that satisfied with his life before he met her. He hadn’t any work; Nan was keeping him with her pittance; and coming to Scarborough and meeting her was a bright interlude in his life. He hadn’t intended it to continue, she thought. He was just imagining how it would be to have a different life.

She looked down at Jack, who was wide awake and contemplating her from his sea blue eyes. She gently touched his cheek and he opened his mouth and sought her fingers. ‘But I have you,’ she murmured. ‘And that makes up for everything else.’

‘This is your last day at home, Harry,’ she said to him the next morning. It was ten o’clock and she’d brought him a cup of tea in bed. ‘Shall we go out for a walk? It’s cold but not wet. I haven’t been into the town yet. I thought you could show me round.’

He grunted. ‘What d’ya want to do that for? There’s everything you want on ’road.’

‘I – I know,’ she stammered. ‘But it’d be nice to see other parts of the town.’

He took the cup from her and had a drink. ‘No. I don’t think so. There’s nowt much to see. Onny shops and – well, ’pier’s all right, I suppose.’ He finished the tea in one huge slurp, and handing the cup back to her he slid back down into bed.

She turned away, disappointed, but looked back when he said, ‘You can come back to bed though.’ He leaned on one elbow. ‘Like you said. It’s my last day.’

* * *

That was a big mistake, she reflected two months later as she retched into the privy. On that particular day she had thought it would give them a fresh start. A chance to put things right between them. They had had little time together since they were married, first because of living with Nan, then the birth of Jack, and now living in the small house with Connie as a constant companion.

Harry had done another long trip, but on returning home had once more slipped into the habit of spending most of his shore days at the Wassand Arms, arriving home for supper and then bed. Connie had started to go out after work, meeting some of her work mates, she’d said, ‘It’ll give you and Harry some time to yourselves,’ she’d added.

But it hadn’t worked out like that and increasingly Jeannie found herself spending her evenings alone. Now he was away again and not due back for several weeks, and she felt obliged to tell Connie about her pregnancy.

Connie stared at her, her mouth dropping open. ‘I didn’t think—’

‘What?’ Jeannie said. ‘Didn’t think what?’

‘Erm – that you could get caught so quickly after ’first bairn.’ Connie seemed baffled, peeved almost, as the frown on her forehead showed. ‘Bet Harry won’t be pleased. It’ll be more expense wi’ another bairn.’

He should have thought about that at the time, Jeannie considered, but she too was perplexed and went to see Mrs Norman. ‘I thought you couldn’t get pregnant if you were still breastfeeding,’ she confessed. ‘It’s going to be hard with two young bairns.’

Mrs Norman nodded sagely. ‘A fair number of mothers get caught out wi’ that old wives’ tale. But you’ll manage, I expect. You’ll have to, anyway. There’s no way round it, unless … You wouldn’t want—’

‘Oh, no!’ Jeannie said hastily. ‘I wouldn’t.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Mrs Norman agreed. ‘They’re a gift when all’s said an’ done.’

A gift, Jeannie thought as she walked back. A gift that will surely cost us.

Jack wriggled in her arms. He was thriving and getting heavier to carry. How would she manage in seven months’ time? Jack would be crawling by then and how would she carry him when she was pregnant? A perambulator, or bassinet as she had sometimes heard them called, would be all right, like those that nursemaids used when they pushed their charges along Westborough or by the Scarborough sands.

She sighed. No chance of that, not for the likes of us. A box on wheels, more like. A box on wheels! A fish box. I could scrub one out – where could I get some wheels, and how would I fix them? What did Ma use for me and Tom? She kept on working: she must have put us in something.

The next day she sought out Mrs Norman again. She always seemed pleased to see her, and was never too busy for a word. Jeannie was grateful for that. Since Nan’s death she missed having someone to talk to.

‘Mrs Norman,’ she said, having found her washing her front windows, ‘I don’t want to be a nuisance, but could I ask you something?’

‘Ask away, m’dear.’ Mrs Norman gazed at her. ‘Summat bothering you?’

‘Yes. I was wondering how I’ll manage as time goes on and Jack gets heavier, carrying him, you know. I’ve never noticed what other mothers do.’ If only Ma were here, she thought. She’d know.

‘Ah, you poor bairn.’ Mrs Norman shook her cloth. ‘Come on in and tek ’weight off your feet and we’ll have a little chat.’

Jeannie burst into tears. ‘I’m so s-sorry,’ she wept. ‘I don’t know who to talk to about things and I can’t keep writing to my ma cos I don’t want to worry her.’

‘I don’t suppose she’d mind,’ Mrs Norman said practically, leading the way inside her house. ‘But don’t you worry your head about it. I’ll get our Billy to make you a pushcart. He’s done ’em afore. It’s quite handy having a son who’s a carpenter. He’ll mek you one out of a fish box or an orange box. If it’s fish, bairn’ll grow up sick of ’smell of fish and if it’s orange he’ll want to travel to exotic countries to recapture ’smell. So what do you think? Which shall it be?’

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

HARRY ARRIVED HOME on the same day as Billy brought the pushcart. ‘What’s this?’ he said when he saw his friend trundling it up the terrace.

‘It’s for your bairn,’ Billy said. ‘He’s getting too heavy for Jeannie to carry.’ He stopped abruptly, almost as if he was about to say more but had thought better of it.

Harry frowned. ‘How much?’ he demanded.

‘What? Aw, come on, mate.’ Billy looked astonished. ‘I don’t charge a pal for a bit o’ wood and a few nails, now do I? You can buy me a drink if you like.’

‘Right,’ Harry muttered. ‘Have you seen her? How d’ya know she needs one?’

Billy stared at him. ‘What’s up wi’ you? My ma told me. It was her that suggested it.’

‘Ah! Sorry, mate. I’ve had a rough trip. Not in ’best o’ tempers.’

‘Well don’t tek it out on me,’ Billy admonished him. ‘And don’t tek it out on your missis either. She’s got enough on her plate.’

‘What d’ya mean?’

‘Nowt.’ Billy stopped at Harry’s gateway. ‘Here.’ He thrust the cart towards Harry. ‘You tek it in.’ He turned about and walked away.

‘See you in ’Wassand then?’ Harry called after him.

Billy lifted a hand but didn’t answer.

Jeannie was sitting by a low fire feeding Jack when Harry opened the door. She looked up and a smile lit her face.

‘Harry. Oh, Harry! I didn’t expect you. What time did you dock?’ She slipped her shawl over her breast and lifted her face for a kiss.

‘You don’t have to cover yourself in front o’ me, do you?’ he said brusquely, bending to drop a kiss on her forehead.

‘Habit,’ she said. ‘In case the door opens.’

‘Why? Who else comes in?’ He took off his coat and hung it on the back of his chair before sitting down.

Jeannie gazed at him. Then, lifting Jack to her shoulder, she gently patted his back. ‘Nobody,’ she said. ‘I don’t see anybody from Connie going out to her coming home, unless I go out on the road; and if the weather’s bad I don’t go out. But it’s getting better,’ she said, trying hard to be cheerful. ‘The weather, I mean. I think spring is on its way. Cup of tea?’

He nodded. ‘Not a good fire. It’s freezing in here.’

‘There’s not much coal left,’ she said. ‘You’ve come home just in time.’

‘Run out o’ money already?’ He sat down opposite her and she felt as if she was entertaining a stranger. ‘What ’you spent it on?’

Jeannie licked her lips; then she rose from the chair and put Jack in his makeshift crib. ‘Food and coal,’ she said. ‘And the rent, of course. No luxuries.’

‘I’ve got summat for you outside.’

‘Have you?’ she said eagerly. ‘A present? Fish, I bet. I’ll make a fish pie for supper.’

‘Not fish. An’ I’m sick o’ sight o’ fish. Haven’t you got some beef?’

She shook her head. ‘No, but I’ll go and get some – if you’ve got your wages.’

He heaved a sigh. ‘Aye, but we’re a bit short. ’Skipper decided to try ’Moray Firth, but he set up within ’three-mile limit and we were sent off wi’ our tails between our legs wi’ Scottish fishermen after us. That lost us time and no fish, so then we sailed for Norway.’

Jeannie was animated. This was the first time he had ever discussed any of his trips. ‘And was the fishing good there? Lots of halibut, I should think.’

‘Aye, but then we snagged our nets and lost half of ’catch.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll just get this cart from ’front door,’ he said.

Cart? She’d put to the back of her mind Mrs Norman’s promise that Billy would make one for her and she gave a small gasp as Harry brought it in.

‘Oh, it’s just what I want! Harry, I’ve something to tell you.’

‘I haven’t finished,’ he said bluntly. ‘An’ then we had trouble wi’ boiler and were stuck for three days wi’out power an’ Norwegian Sea was packed wi’ British trawlers so ’skipper decided to come home. That’s why we’re short. So what’s all this about?’ He indicated the pushcart. ‘How come Billy Norman made it for you?’