The Harbour Girl (46 page)

Mary smiled and nodded. ‘He asked me to marry him before he went away.’

‘Did he?’ Jeannie’s eyes started to spout fresh tears. ‘What answer did you give?’

‘I said no,’ her mother said, with a catch in her voice. ‘And he was sad and disappointed, so I have that on my conscience.’

Tom returned to the house having found out nothing at all, and Jeannie thought how strong and purposeful he was and what a great support for her mother. Stephen was wide-eyed, not yet comprehending that his father and brother might not be returning home.

Tom returned to Scarborough the same evening; Mary said she would stay a few days longer, but promised to write if there was news. Given the option of returning with Tom or staying with Mary, Stephen decided he would stay.

‘But I can’t take too much time off,’ her mother told Jeannie. ‘I have a living to make too.’ She put her arm around her daughter. ‘You can always come home; you know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Jeannie murmured, but wondered if she would or whether she would stay with the folk on the road who had treated her as one of their own.

She went to work the next morning, leaving Jack with her mother rather than taking him to Dot’s, and as she reached the entrance to the fish quay she saw Connie standing as if waiting for someone. She came abreast of her, but kept her eyes in front and didn’t glance at her. Connie turned and called her name.

‘Jeannie! Jeannie, will you talk to me? Nobody’ll talk to me. They’re saying it’s my fault.’

Jeannie looked at her. Connie’s face was swollen with crying and her eyes were bloodshot.

‘What’s your fault?’ she asked dully. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

Connie began to weep. ‘Harry’s ship,’ she wailed. ‘Some of ’lasses are saying it’s my fault it’s missing.’

‘You’re being ridiculous,’ Jeannie said sharply. ‘Stop bothering me! Don’t you realize what this is doing to me?’ Her voice rose, the tension escalating. ‘Have you no idea of my feelings? Are you so totally selfish that you don’t care about anybody but yourself? Go away!’

She hadn’t realized that she was shouting until she saw heads being turned in their direction. And then she saw that Connie was gasping for breath; she seemed to shrink and become the girl she had been when Jeannie had first met her, nervous and withdrawn and unsure of herself.

Jeannie stood staring at her. ‘Are you ill?’ she said at last.

Connie retched as if her throat was closing. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I’m pregnant.’

Jeannie staggered at the news. Another child of Harry’s to grow up without him.

‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you.’ Connie’s voice was choked. ‘That’s why it’s my fault. I realized I was pregnant on ’morning Harry sailed and I chased after him to tell him. He was aboard by ’time I reached ’dock and they were already under way. I ran down ’side of ’dock shouting his name.’ She wiped her wet cheek with her shawl. ‘Some of ’men on ’deck were yelling at me to clear off but somebody else went to fetch Harry.’

She began to weep again. ‘He came up on deck and I shouted to him that I was pregnant, but they were drawing away out of ’dock and towards ’estuary and he couldn’t hear me, but – but I could tell what he was saying by ’way he was waving his arms.’ She almost retched again as she continued. ‘He was shouting
get back, get back
. It’s unlucky, you see.’

Jeannie could barely hear her, but caught the last few whispered words.

‘It’s unlucky to see ’lads off on a trip. I was so excited about ’bairn that I’d forgotten. How could I? How could I forget when it’s so important? And them other three ships; they were sailing on ’same tide an’ ’men on board saw me as well cos I was stood on ’side of ’dock.’ Connie took another trembling breath. ‘And so it’s my fault that they’re missing.’

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

JEANNIE TRIED NOT to waken her mother, who was sleeping in the bed with her and Jack, but she tossed in an uneasy sleep for most of that night, thinking of a pregnant Connie, thinking of Harry somewhere out at sea, and thinking too of Ethan, the three of them in a bewildering tableau clinging to a broken mast and torn rigging; the scene set against heavy seas, with ships awash with fish and violent waves and herself on an open bridge shrieking orders that no one could hear. Timbers were crashing and fish boxes were sliding over the deck and then she was abruptly awakened by someone banging on the middle door. It was her lodger Jim, barelegged, his hair tousled, dressed in his nightshirt with a jersey over the top.

‘There’s a young lad at ’front door wi’ a message from somebody called Mike Gardiner,’ he said. ‘He says will you go to ’dock straight away.’

Jeannie dressed hurriedly and her mother got up to make her a hot drink. Stephen was sound asleep in a chair.

‘We’ll follow on,’ Mary said. ‘I’ll give Jack his pobs and dress him and make sure he’s warm.’

Jeannie nodded. She was so frightened she felt sick and could barely answer, but she sipped her tea and reminded her mother to put Jack in the pram to save her carrying him.

It was not yet five o’clock and still dark when she left the house. There were other people, mainly women, going in the same direction, scurrying towards St Andrew’s Dock. The streets were eerily silent but for the clatter of boots and clogs. The horse trams were not yet running and only the occasional butcher’s shop or baker’s had lights on as they prepared for the day’s business.

The women did not speak to each other, simply hurried side by side with the same purpose, to learn the fate of the ships and the men on them, and facing the same uncertain future. The dock gates were open and they went through without hindrance, hurrying alongside the waterway, looking about them to find somebody who could answer their questions.

Jeannie spotted Mike and ran towards him. His face was grey and drawn and Jeannie knew how anxious he must be about Aaron. He drew Jeannie towards him and put his arm round her. ‘There’s a ship coming up ’estuary,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Onny one. There’s no news of either of ’others so I fear they’re lost. We’ll find out when this one comes in.’

‘Has nobody seen her name?’ she asked. ‘Surely …’

He shook his head. ‘She’s bearing no light or flag, but she’s ’size of—’ He swallowed hard. ‘News is that she’s ’size of ’
Arctic Star
, so it might be her. But we don’t know for sure.’

Harry’s ship. Jeannie took in the news and clutched Mike’s arm. ‘How long before she’s here?’ she whispered.

‘Another hour, mebbe,’ he said. ‘Then there’ll be relief and grief at ’same time.’

‘The others might be safe,’ she murmured. ‘Or there might be more news.’

‘Aye,’ he said, without conviction. ‘Mebbe so.’

They walked together to the dock entrance so that they might be among the first to see the ship approaching; half an hour went by and then another quarter. Jeannie shivered. It was so cold; she couldn’t imagine how much colder it would be out at sea.

Dawn was breaking, long pencil-thin slivers of silver, red and gold breaking open the dark sky and heralding another day, when they saw the broken mast and ragged rigging of the advancing ship, escorted by the pilot boat all the way in through the huddle of vessels already docked. A thin cheer went up from the waiting crowd, which had increased in size as the news spread that a missing ship was homeward bound. But beneath the cheer was the wail of a plaintive keening.

‘I can’t look,’ Jeannie gasped, and she couldn’t see for her tears. Which ever vessel it was meant heartbreak for the families of those who were still missing. And for her, it meant she had lost either a husband or a dear friend and his father. ‘Can you see which it is yet, Mike?’

He didn’t answer, but squeezed her shoulder; she felt him shake and knew it was bad news. She heard the sob in his breath and then a gasp. ‘I’m sorry for you, lass.’ He couldn’t keep the anguish from his voice or hold back the tears which poured down his face and into his beard. ‘It’s
Scarborough Girl
that’s come home,’ he choked. ‘Not ’
Arctic Star
after all.’

There were many tears and cries of grief when
Scarborough Girl
brought the news that the
Arctic Star
had perished in one of the worst storms that Ethan and his men said they had ever endured. They had seen the ship in difficulties and gone to her aid, but they were in trouble themselves as their vessel was besieged by battering seas.

‘We managed to get a line aboard the
Arctic Star
before she went down,’ Ethan wearily told the director of M and R, who had come to the dock with everyone else to wait for news about the company’s ship. ‘But she was swamped by massive waves which threw her over on her beam ends. We brought two men aboard, but one died of exposure. The other is safe and will be able to tell you what happened.’

The man nodded wearily. ‘She was an old ship,’ he said. ‘But seaworthy. We won’t replace her, and we can’t replace those who were lost with her. It’s a very sad day.’

‘It is indeed. We too lost a man overboard,’ Ethan told him. ‘A young man on his first trip. I must find his mother to tell her how brave he was. This was our first voyage in
Scarborough Girl
and she’s served us well in terrible circumstances.’

He sought out Jeannie, who was sitting on a fish box gently rocking Jack in his pram. Her mother was with her; Stephen had gone on board the ship to greet his father.

‘I’m so sorry, Jeannie,’ he said quietly. ‘So sorry to bring you this news.’

Jeannie didn’t answer. She felt numb, as if she was in yet another nightmare from which she would presently awaken. Then she said softly, ‘At least I know what happened to Harry. There’s no news of the
Mariner
or its crew. Their families will always wonder and wait.’

‘She’s lost,’ he told her. ‘We saw her once before the storm hit, and then nothing.’

‘Did you see Harry?’ Jeannie asked. ‘Before the ship went down? I suppose – I suppose you couldn’t tell one man from another?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘It was all confusion: great waves, thunder and lightning, and she was adrift and low in the water, probably heavily laden with fish. Her masts had been struck, I think; they were shattered, anyway. Ours were covered in ice. And it was quick, Jeannie.’ He touched her shoulder. ‘She went down in minutes; the men wouldn’t have suffered for long.’

Rosie and Billy came to talk to her, and Ethan took Mary to see Josh and then went to join those who had lost men from the
Arctic Star
and the
Mariner
. Rosie was very distressed.

‘I know we didn’t see eye to eye most of ’time,’ she wept, ‘but he was my brother. Have you seen Connie?’ she asked suddenly. ‘She’s on her own; she’s crying.’

‘I can’t talk to her just now,’ Jeannie said. ‘I have my own sorrow to bear without sharing hers. I’m sorry for her, though.’ She looked up at Rosie; Rosie who was once Connie’s friend. ‘She’s pregnant,’ she told her. ‘She’s expecting Harry’s child.’

And so Rosie and Billy went to comfort Connie, who was crouched in a corner like a frightened animal. Dot and Sam arrived at the dockside. Sam was relieved that his investment was safe, but like Dot and Rosie he was distressed over the loss of life on the other vessels, especially Harry’s. Dot said that when they were ready they must all go back to their house for breakfast, and the men, Ethan and Josh, for a hot bath if they would like one.

Ethan thanked her but said he and his father would go back to Mike’s, where he would be lodging for the foreseeable future.

‘You’ll not be expected at work today, Jeannie,’ Dot told her. ‘You’ll come back, won’t you?’

Jeannie said she would, and that she would bring her mother. She wanted someone to take care of her life until she found the energy and the will to do it herself. She waited with Ethan for his father and Stephen and her mother to appear, and saw Josh hand Mary down from the deck to the quay. She also saw how he held on to her hand and she didn’t pull away. Stephen walked at her other side and put his arm in hers.

Jeannie glanced at Ethan, her eyes pricking, and saw that he had noticed too. Neither of them said anything, but when they joined them, and Mike and his son, they walked as a family might, but with one relative missing, out of the dock and on to Hessle Road.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

IT WAS DECEMBER and almost Jack’s third birthday. He was a lively, happy child, chattering volubly and constantly getting into mischief. He loved his time with Dot and especially now that there were other children to play with, for Dot had found her vocation. She had never wanted children of her own but she was fond of other people’s, mainly, she said, because she could send them home at the end of the day.

The daughter of a friend had seen how good she was with Jack and asked if she would take care of her little girl when she went back to work. Dot agreed, and one request led to another and before she had quite realized what was happening she and Minnie had cleared a room where they now looked after four children. It brought her in some money of her own, which she spent mainly on children’s toys.