The Harbour Girl (34 page)

She put her shawl back on and tucking Jack under it went out again, heading back towards the shops on Hessle Road to spend her precious money on a ready cooked meat and potato pie.

‘Mm.’ Connie wiped a slice of bread round her plate to soak up the gravy when she had finished. ‘That made a nice change.’ She licked her lips. ‘You must get fed up o’ cooking, don’t you?’

‘I don’t mind,’ Jeannie answered. ‘But it’s not easy knowing what to have when there’s not much money. I couldn’t really afford to buy a pie, but the fire wouldn’t burn and I knew we’d be eating at midnight unless I bought some ready food. I’ll be pleased when Harry comes home. I don’t know how much longer I can manage.’

It wasn’t meant as a hint that Connie had been lax with her board money again, but Connie took offence at the innocent remark and went upstairs, returning a few minutes later with her purse.

‘
I’m
not earning a fortune, you know!
And
I’ve to buy my dinner every day. I don’t pack up like some of ’lasses do.’

‘Well, you could,’ Jeannie told her. ‘There’s usually enough bread.’ But the reason Connie didn’t pack up was because she was essentially lazy and would rather spend another quarter of an hour in bed than get up to prepare food for her midday break.

Connie handed over her money. It wasn’t enough, she surely knew that, but she didn’t look at Jeannie as she announced, ‘Anyway, I’m going to mek it easier for you to manage. I’ve got another room. A bob a week including coal for a fire. I’ve just to find my own food.’

Jeannie felt as if she’d been struck. ‘Why?’ she asked hoarsely. ‘That’s what you pay to live here and I provide the food, except when you bring fish.’

Connie shrugged. ‘I fetch ’fish in. I can cook it m’self so I’ll eat for free.’

There seemed to be no logic to that. ‘But why?’ Jeannie asked again. ‘I thought we were company for each other.’

Connie stretched and then sat down. ‘We were. But I’m going out more now. I’m getting on better wi’ lasses at work, and anyway once you’ve got another bairn to look after you’ll not have ’time to talk. And I don’t really like this part of ’road either.’

Jeannie thought for a moment. She’d felt that Connie had been behaving oddly for some time. She’d been unsettled, more like the person she’d been when Jeannie had first met her.

‘Is it me?’ she asked. ‘Is it something I’ve said or done that’s made you want to move? Or Harry! Has Harry said something to upset you?’

Connie did look at her now, lifting her head and speaking sharply. ‘Harry? No. Why’d you think it was Harry? No. It’s nowt to do wi’ him.’

But Jeannie noticed a slow blush on her cheeks and thought that perhaps she wasn’t being truthful. Connie had had a soft spot for Harry. Maybe she was finding it difficult living in close proximity. ‘When will you be leaving?’

‘End o’ week. Sorry.’ Again she looked away. ‘It’s nowt personal. But I’ve got on me feet and I can manage on me own now. About time, isn’t it?’ She gave a forced laugh. ‘I’m not scared like I used to be. I’ve grown up.’ She dropped her eyes to Jack sleeping in his makeshift cot. ‘I’ll miss ’bairn, though.’

‘Come and see him then. When you’ve the time.’ Jeannie could hardly speak. Another slap in the face. Unwanted. There’s only Jack who really needs me. She heard her voice mouthing words. ‘Don’t think that you can’t call, Connie. I understand that you feel the need to have your own place.’

‘Yeh, I will.’ Connie got up again. ‘I’m off out now. I need to buy some cups and plates an’ stuff – an’ sheets. I don’t suppose—’

‘No,’ Jeannie said firmly. ‘I’ll need all the crockery and bedding, especially when I’ve two bairns. I might have to take in a lodger,’ she said, as the thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘To make ends meet.’

‘Oh, yeh!’ Connie nodded. ‘Course. Mebbe you could get somebody down on their luck who’d look after ’bairn while you get a job.’

‘And teach them how to stand on their own two feet?’ Jeannie couldn’t help the sarcasm, but it was wasted on Connie. ‘I don’t think so.’ Her eyes began to stream. ‘I’m very particular about who looks after my child. Harry’s child.’

‘Well, you would be.’ Connie stared at her for a moment and then ran her tongue round her lips. ‘He’ll be precious to you. And you’ll bring him up right, won’t you, Jeannie? No matter what.’

‘What do you mean?’

Connie shrugged. ‘Nowt really. It’s just – well – we don’t know how life’s going to turn out, do we? It’s a struggle, I know that better’n anybody. Abandoned by my da, and unwanted by my ma.’ She seemed to be searching for words but couldn’t find the right ones. ‘But you’re strong, aren’t you? If somebody knocked you down you’d get up again.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Connie.’ She was beginning a headache and wished Connie would go out and leave her to her thoughts.

‘What I’m trying to say is that I allus need somebody to pick me up and point me in ’right direction. But you, you allus know which way to go or what to do; you don’t need anybody else to tell you.’

What I wouldn’t give right now to have someone tell me what to do for the best, Jeannie thought. But there’s no one. Only my mother, and I won’t ask her. Why would I worry her?

She shook her head. ‘It’s not true, Connie,’ she said. ‘Everybody needs somebody to lean on.’

‘Yeh!’ Connie agreed eagerly. ‘That’s what I’m trying to say.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

MIKE GARDINER HAD to lift his head considerably to look his new acquaintance in the eye. He held out his hand. ‘Glad to meet you, Ethan. They mek big lads in Scarborough, don’t they?’

Ethan laughed, his grin wide between his fair moustache and thick beard. ‘Not all as tall as me,’ he bantered. ‘This is my brother Stephen. He’s nine and promising to be bigger than everybody.’

The tall thin boy beside him looked down at his feet.

‘Say how de do to Mr Gardiner, Stephen.’ Ethan gave a nudge, and Stephen put out his hand to Mike.

‘Good to meet you, Stephen,’ Mike said. ‘Are you planning to be a fisherman like your brother?’

Stephen nodded. ‘I think so. Ethan said he’d try me out. Fishing runs in the family.’

‘Yes, it usually does. I’ve one son who’s a fisherman, and ’other’s a butcher, so we’re never short of food!’ He looked towards the dock. ‘So, you’ve travelled here by smack rather than train?’

‘Yep,’ Ethan said. ‘I don’t often get the chance to come out in her, thought it would be good to sail; we’ve not used the engine at all, have we, Stephen? He’s learning the ropes. I think it’s important.’

‘But you don’t fish in her?’

‘Onny sometimes. At night. She’s an indulgence.’ He smiled, but Mike thought he looked wistful.

‘So about this other business. You’re keen to set up a company?’ Mike gazed shrewdly at him.

‘Yes. Can we sit down somewhere? There’s a fair bit to discuss if you’re interested.’

Mike led them to a lean-to shed which he said was his office, where they sat down on a wooden bench. ‘You met my lad Aaron, didn’t you?’ he said. ‘Where was that?’

‘No, that wasn’t me. That was Len, another Scarborough skipper. Len and I and a couple of others were thinking of converting a paddle steamer, but there were a few disagreements and so it came to nothing. Perhaps it’s just as well. Some of the paddle steamer companies that were set up are failing, but I’m still keen to upgrade and so is Len, and my father said he might come in, and then Len met Aaron somewhere, I’m not sure where, Flamborough maybe, and they hit it off and started discussing expanding. We’ve got to do it, Mike, or else we’re finished. Smacks are at their limit now; even with bigger engines we can go no further than the Shetlands. A purpose-built screw steam trawler wouldn’t be dependent on home waters.’

‘It’s true,’ Mike agreed. ‘Grimsby trawlers are doing well off Iceland and ’Faroes, though they’re taking some stick from ’local fishermen.’

‘That’s always going to happen,’ Ethan said. ‘It’s happened in Scotland too when some trawlers didn’t stick by the three-mile limit; the Danes have set four miles, but with a bigger ship we wouldn’t even need to stay in northern waters. We could go much further.’

‘You say your father might come in?’ Mike asked. ‘Only might?’

‘I think he’ll be persuaded. He’s got shares in another smack which he’d be willing to sell, and if I keep this one he can use it for onshore fishing.’

Mike raised his eyebrows. ‘You’ll not sell yours?’

‘Not this one I won’t. As I say, she’s an indulgence. I’ve shares in another which I’ll sell if I can, though the smack market is dropping.’

‘The Scandinavians would buy,’ Mike said. ‘All right. Let’s have your proposal and I’ll have a think about it.’ He winked at Stephen. ‘We’ve this lad’s future to think about.’

They talked for an hour or so and agreed to meet again. Mike said he’d talk to Aaron and Ethan said he’d go to his father and Len with the proposals. They’d both agreed they would need to raise some capital, as even with the sale of shares and smacks there wouldn’t be enough. But they had a good basis for going ahead and Mike was not only interested in the scheme but struck by this young man’s enthusiasm, and said he would look into what vessels were available. There were many ship-building companies in the Humber district of Brough, Hessle and Beverley; they wouldn’t be able to afford to buy new but Ethan said he knew someone in the boat-building business who could also advise them.

As he said this, he wondered if Tom Marshall, Jeannie’s brother, would be interested in the venture, but he instantly dismissed the idea. Tom was getting married soon and wouldn’t want to risk the money he earned.

The two men shook hands and Mike walked back with them to where the smack was tied up. It was a smart vessel, he saw, well trimmed and spotless. Obviously didn’t do much fishing now, and he wondered how Ethan could afford to keep such a luxury. Few fishermen sailed for pleasure only. It wasn’t a pastime but a means of earning a living.

He stood with his arms folded as Stephen unhooked the painter and Ethan prepared to cast off, instructing Stephen, telling him to watch and learn. He heard him tell his young brother that once they were out of the Humber, beyond Spurn and in sea water, then he could take the helm. Good lad, he thought. The sandbanks in the Humber were treacherous and not for a beginner.

As Ethan got under way, Mike called to him. ‘I know a Scarborough girl. She lives on Hessle Road.’

‘Oh, yes?’ Ethan called back. ‘What’s she like?’

‘Lovely!’ Mike said. ‘Rich brown hair, beautiful smile. Married, though, with a bairn.’

He saw Ethan take in a breath of air before saying, ‘Lucky man!’

Mike nodded. ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you?’ and lifted his hand in farewell.

Stephen watched and learned but kept quiet as his brother followed the pilot boat and rounded the Spurn Head sandbanks into the wide reaches of the North Sea – which their father often referred to as the German Ocean – and headed for home.

‘Ethan!’ he called. ‘You know what Mr Gardiner said about that Scarborough girl?’

‘Er – yep?’

‘Well, do you think it might have been Jeannie Marshall he was talking about?’

‘Don’t know. Here – we’ve a fair wind. Come for’ard and you can sail for home.’

‘Can I?’ Stephen moved for’ard eagerly. ‘But do you think it could have been? Jeannie, I mean?’

‘No idea. Might have been.’

‘Well, she went to live in Hull.’ Stephen fixed his position. ‘She got married, and her ma said she’d had a babby.’

‘Did she? Watch what you’re doing, helmsman. Concentrate. These are tricky waters just outside the Humber.’

‘I know,’ Stephen said. ‘I’m onny asking. It’d be good if it was her, wouldn’t it? I’d like to see her again. I liked Jeannie. I like her ma as well. I wish Da would marry her.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Stephen. Keep your eyes keen. Keep her running.’ But even as he chastised his young brother he knew he was talking to a born seaman. Stephen had a natural affinity with the ship and the sea.

‘You know what I think, Ethan?’ Stephen said, his eye and his hands steady. ‘I think you were sweet on Jeannie and that’s why you don’t want to talk about her. Cos she left you and married somebody else.’

‘Is that what you think? What a wise man you are.’ Ethan stood behind him. ‘Well, I can tell
you
that you’re sailing close to the wind; so trim your sails, sailor, and get us safe home.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

JEANNIE DIDN’T FEEL well with this pregnancy, unlike when she was carrying Jack. She put it down to not having such nourishing food. Nan had always cooked and made sure that Jeannie ate well. Now she didn’t always feel like cooking just for herself once Connie had left. She felt tired most of the time and it was an effort for her to make a fire in the morning; it hardly ever stayed on all night no matter how she packed it with slack before going to bed.

The days were longer and brighter, but the sun’s warmth seemed to intensify the odours of fish and its by-products, making her feel more nauseous day by day. And she was constantly anxious about the lack of money. Mike and Charlie occasionally brought her nets to work on, which she eagerly accepted. Charlie’s were often torn to shreds and difficult to mend, and she knew she did not charge him as much as she should; but she knew too that he was short of money as well – he must have been or he would have bought new nets.