A Safe Harbour (52 page)
Authors: Benita Brown
Tags: #Technology & Engineering, #Sagas, #Fisheries & Aquaculture, #Fiction
‘Most of it is what Aunt Meg left me,’ she lied. She could not tell William the whole truth although she would have liked to do so. If he knew she was expecting a bairn he would have insisted she keep the money. ‘She would want you to have it. You’ll be able to buy a passage to America, and once you’re there – well, it’s up to you, but I have a suggestion.’
William grinned. ‘Good old Kate. You could always be trusted to come up with a suggestion. Especially if we’d done something wrong and explanations were called for.’
Kate took a letter out of her apron pocket and a clean sheet of notepaper. She put them on the upturned tea chest and copied something out. She gave him the piece of paper. ‘Don’t lose that address.’
He looked at it and his eyes widened. ‘I didn’t know you’d been in touch,’ he said.
‘I can’t explain now. It would take too long. But don’t write home, whatever you do. Ma and I will write to you. Now, you must go. William, do you want me to tell Jane what has happened?’
Her brother’s eyes filled with tears. ‘My bonny Jane. She thinks we’re going to get married.’ Quite unashamedly he wiped the tears from his eyes with his handkerchief. ‘No, you don’t have to do that, Kate. I’ll tell her myself.’
‘When?’
‘I’ll go there now – to the Coulsons’ house in Jesmond. It’s still early. I’ll catch the workmen’s train.’
‘I don’t think that’s wise.’
‘Wise or not, I can’t leave without seeing her – telling her . . .’
‘Of course you can’t. But this is what we’ll do.’
Kate had just finished explaining to William what her plan was when they were interrupted by the jangling of the shop bell. Her brother started up and almost overturned the box he’d been sitting on. ‘Susan Armstrong!’ he exclaimed.
‘Whisht!’ Kate put a finger to her lips. ‘Wait here. I won’t be a moment.’
Kate opened the door quietly and saw that Alice was still asleep in the chair by the fire. She was snoring gently. Charlie was laid out on the bed in his best suit. It was like a dream, Kate thought. Or a nightmare.
She went back for William and beckoned him to follow her. She took him along the cold passage that led to the kitchen and the scullery and the door to the back yard, which she opened. ‘Off you go,’ she said.
William hugged her. ‘Tell Ma I love her.’
‘Of course I will.’ Then, ‘Wait!’ she said.
She took down a scarf that was hanging on a hook on the back of the door along with a couple of outdoor coats. It would be one of Charlie’s. Kate leaned forward and wrapped the scarf round her brother’s neck. He looked surprised.
‘To hide your bonny hair,’ she said and felt the grief rise in her throat.
She watched him cross the back yard, open the door and slip out into the lane. She’d advised him to keep to the back lanes as far as he could on the way to the station. When the yard door closed behind him she hurried back along the passage to the shop. She hoped against hope that it wasn’t Susan who had arrived; always suspicious, she might ask awkward questions. But fortunately it was Betsy.
‘Oh, thank goodness you’re here,’ Kate said. ‘I want you to run an errand for me.’
The girl grinned. This was what she liked to do. ‘Do I have to remember anything?’ she asked.
‘Yes, but it’s easy. Go and tell my mother that I want to see her. Don’t speak to anyone else. Ask her to come to the shop straight away. Can you remember that?’
Betsy gave Kate a scornful look and ran for the door. ‘Course I can.’
Chapter Twenty-three
Nan got on the Newcastle train along with the other fishwives. They were surprised to see her. ‘I didn’t know you did a round in town,’ Mary Coxon said.
‘I don’t.’ Fearful of upsetting the regulars she added, ‘But one of my customers in Whitley is looking after her sister who’s just had a bairn. The sister lives in Jesmond.’ This raised a few eyebrows. Jesmond was even more select than Whitley. Nan hurried on, ‘She left word I was to bring up a nice bit of turbot. I won’t be coming up here again.’
‘I hope she’ll pay your train fare,’ Mary said.
‘I didn’t think of that.’
‘Well, ask her for it. You can tell you’re new to the game. All this way for bit of turbot. You must be daft,’ Mary added scornfully.
Nan felt herself flushing. She only half remembered the story that Kate had made up for her – lies, she supposed, but surely God would forgive her in the circumstances – but ever since she had left Kate earlier she had been in turmoil.
‘Leave her be,’ Mary’s sister Edith said. ‘We all had to learn. And in any case it pays to keep in with a good customer.’ She turned to Nan and asked kindly, ‘Where do you usually go today?’
‘Wallsend.’ Well, at least that was true.
‘There now, you’ll be able to go back there on the train, so it’s not quite a wasted journey.’
The only comfort Nan could take from the exchange was that the news of what had happened the night before had not yet got round the village. If it had, the other fish lasses would have been asking her much more difficult questions. Nevertheless, she was glad when Edith nudged her arm and told her that the next stop would be the best one for Jesmond. She managed a smile and a thank you before she got off the train.
Kate had drawn her a map but, nevertheless, Nan got lost and she had to ask the way twice before she arrived at the Coulsons’ house. House, she thought, it was more like a palace with its gardens set out like a park, and its tall bay windows giving glimpses of luxuriously furnished rooms. No wonder Jane had got a little bit above herself, she thought, and immediately felt guilty when she remembered why she was here.
At the same time she realized that she ought not to have come in this way at all. She should have followed the high red-brick garden wall until she found a turning into a lane which led to the back entrances and the stable blocks of these grand houses. She hesitated, half deciding to retrace her steps, and then deciding not to.
She had spied the way the drive divided before the pillared porch and veered round to the sides of the house. One way seemed to end at a glasshouse set back a little and bigger than Nan’s own cottage, and the other way looked as though it might lead to the back premises. She went that way and, to her relief, discovered that she had guessed rightly.
But even then her quest had not ended. There were all sorts of outhouses, the green-painted doors looking identical. She chose the door which had the most well-worn step below it. There was also an enamel notice nailed to the door which she read and ignored. Hitching her basket safely over one arm, she raised the other and knocked as loudly as she dared.
Iris, the Coulsons’ scullery maid, was frowning. ‘Mrs Roberts, there’s a fishwife at the back door,’ she said.
The cook-housekeeper was seated at the scrubbed table. She looked up from her cup of tea. ‘Tell her we get our fish from Rennison’s. And – wait – ask her if she can read.’
‘Read?’ Iris said. Her frown deepened.
‘The sign on the door,’ Mrs Roberts said. ‘ “No hawkers, no circulars.’”
‘Mebbes she can read but mebbes she doesn’t know what a hawker is – or a circular come to that,’ Iris ventured.
‘Pert, aren’t you, miss?’ But the older woman was smiling. ‘All right, just tell her we don’t want any fish.’
Iris disappeared through the door that led to the scullery. Mrs Roberts helped herself to another fancy cake left over from teatime the day before and told Dora, the tweeny, to pour herself a cup of tea and sit down. Iris returned looking baffled.
‘Well, child?’ Mrs Roberts said.
‘She says she doesn’t want to sell no fish.’
The cook-housekeeper shook her head. ‘You mean she doesn’t want to sell any fish.’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘No you didn’t, but never mind. What does she want?’
‘She says she’d like a word with Miss Harrison.’
‘With Jane?’ Mrs Roberts showed her surprise.
‘She says she has a message from home.’
‘Oh, of course. Jane’s parents live in Cullercoats. I hope this isn’t bad news for the poor girl.’
‘What sort of bad news, Mrs Roberts?’ Dora spoke for the first time.
‘Well, maybe something’s happened at home – her mother may be ill. But it’s no use speculating. Iris, tell the woman to come in. She can leave her basket in the scullery and come and sit here while she waits. Dora, go upstairs and ask Miss Jane to come here. Now don’t say anything to frighten her. Just say that I want to see her. Understand?’
The girl nodded and left the room swiftly. Her eyes were wide with the excitement of bearing what might prove to be grave tidings. Without rising from her seat Mrs Roberts told Iris to top up the teapot and fetch a cup and saucer from the dresser. ‘Make that two, Iris. Jane might appreciate one, too.’
When Jane appeared and saw the woman sitting at the end of the kitchen table she went white. She literally drained of colour, Mrs Roberts thought, just like the heroines in the romantic novels she loved to read.
‘Mrs Lawson!’ she gasped. ‘Is it . . . is it William?’
The woman nodded and Mrs Roberts thought the girl was going to pass out. ‘Iris – Dora – catch hold of Jane!’ she commanded. The girls flew to Jane’s side. ‘That’s right, now sit her at the table – not there, you muddle heads – put her next to her visitor.’
‘Is he . . . is he drowned?’ Jane asked.
‘No, not that.’
Thank goodness for that, the cook-housekeeper thought. She had realized by now that the haggard-looking woman sitting at the table must be Jane’s sweetheart’s mother. And she had brought some sort of news about the lad. Mrs Roberts only hoped that it didn’t mean he was going to turn down the position as buyer for her brother’s fish business. Perhaps some illness – or, no, surely the young man couldn’t be thinking of breaking off the engagement and have sent his mother because he was too cowardly to come and tell her himself ? Poor Jane.
‘Dora, get a tray and take that plate of fancy cakes along to my sitting room together with some fresh cups and saucers,’ she said. ‘And Iris, get another teapot and milk jug down and make us a fresh pot of tea.’ The girl opened her mouth. ‘And before you ask why, it’s because you and Dora are going to have a special treat. You’re going to enjoy your morning cuppa with me in my lovely sitting room.’
‘Why?’ Iris asked.
‘You’ll be the death of me, lass,’ the cook-housekeeper said with a sigh. ‘Because I believe Mrs Lawson wants to talk to Miss Harrison in private. And it suits me to oblige her.’
‘The
Tyne Star
sunk?’ Jane whispered. ‘A man overboard and maybe drowned?’ She felt herself begin to shake.
Tyne Star
sunk?’ Jane whispered. ‘A man overboard and maybe drowned?’ She felt herself begin to shake.
William’s mother reached over the table and covered Jane’s small white hand with her own work-worn brown one. ‘He tried to stop them, Jane, you must believe me.’
Jane shook her head. Nothing Nan Lawson said made sense, at least not in her own ordered world. This was a nightmare. She was still in bed and dreaming.
‘And William is leaving the country?’
‘Aye, there’s nowt else for it.’
‘But we were going to get married.’
Nan looked at her helplessly.
‘We had such plans . . .’
‘I’m sorry.’
Jane looked at William’s mother and saw the pain in her eyes. ‘But he wants to see me?’
‘Aye, it’s in the note Kate sent. Here you are.’
‘Kate. Always Kate.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Ever since we were children we went to Kate if things went awry. She always tried to put things right.’
‘Aye, well it’s a pity she couldn’t have put things right for herself.’ Nan sounded bitter.
Jane frowned. ‘Oh, you mean Jos.’
‘Aye, that’s right, I mean Jos.’ William’s mother got to her feet. ‘I have to go. I still have a day’s work to do.’
Jane saw her to the door. Then she managed to keep her composure long enough to inform the cook-housekeeper that Mrs Lawson had gone.
‘Does he still love you?’ Mrs Roberts asked jokingly.
‘Yes, of course,’ Jane said.
‘Well, that’s a relief. I thought his mother had come to tell you that he’d run off with another. For God’s sake, Jane, don’t look at me like that! I was only joking.’
Jane turned and hurried away. It wasn’t until she reached her own room that she gave way to a storm of weeping. She thought she wouldn’t be able to stop and she watched helplessly as all her hopes and dreams were swept away on a tide of grief.
Other books
Overture to Death by Ngaio Marsh
The Lovers by Vendela Vida
Everlasting by Nancy Thayer
All That Glittered: The Golden Age of Drama on Broadway, 1919-1959 by Ethan Mordden
Powered by Cheyanne Young
Nova Scotia by Lesley Choyce
London Harmony: Water Gypsy by Erik Schubach
Mister Tuesday Night: An Erotic Short Story by Valentine, Dee
Murder at the Miramar (Augusta Burnette Series) by Dane McCaslin
Perfect Mate by Jennifer Ashley
