Authors: Benita Brown
Tags: #Technology & Engineering, #Sagas, #Fisheries & Aquaculture, #Fiction
A Safe Harbour (6 page)
‘How can you say that? Apart from being a Linton there was nothing wrong with Jos. He worked hard. He helped his family and he had his own coble as well.’
‘And no sense of responsibility.’ Henry Lawson shook his head. ‘Who knows? This might be fate.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s saved you from a bad marriage.’
‘How can you talk like that with Jos drowned and my heart broken!’ Anguish and anger made her raise her voice and she could feel her mother’s fright.
‘That’s enough!’ her father bellowed. His face began to purple. ‘Ha’ad yer whisht before I’m angered.’
‘But don’t you care that people will think less of you?’ Kate said. Her father’s eyes narrowed and colour suffused his cheeks.
‘Now, Kate, don’t talk like that to your da,’ her mother said anxiously, as William stepped between Kate and her father and tried to lead her away.
It was at that moment that Jos’s brother had arrived with the invitation from his mother and Kate had gone with him thankfully. And now she was pleased that her mother and her two brothers were walking immediately behind her. But she found that she couldn’t forget her father’s words because, in her heart, she knew that there might be some glimmer of truth in them.
She would never forgive her father for seeming to welcome the drowning and yet, much as she loved Jos, she had been worried that his happy-go-lucky nature sometimes made him irresponsible. With his own coble he’d achieved independence from his father and he worked hard. He’d promised Kate that one day soon they would have a cottage of their own and not have to share with his family. Kate had been confident that he could achieve it. And then he’d thrown their future away for a sackful of apples.
At last the procession reached the graveyard, where the headstones seemed to shelter from the elements beneath the dramatic ruins of the ancient priory. The burial plots were only a stone’s throw from the sea that had provided Jos and Barty with a living and cut short their young lives. The coffin bearers picked their way along the narrow paths. Generations of seafarers and fishermen were buried here. Many of the headstones bore engravings of ships and anchors and the inscriptions told sad tales of husbands, fathers and sons lost at sea.
The mourners gathered around the newly dug trench awaiting Jos’s coffin; he was to be buried first. The dark soil, contrasting so vividly with the bright green sward, gave off the loamy smell of damp earth and Kate felt herself reeling when she glimpsed the writhing bodies of worms amongst the protruding grass roots.
No one spoke. The only sounds were the dull pounding of the rain on the turf and the crash of the waves on the rocks below the headland. The strong clear voice of the Reverend James Wheeler came almost as a shock. ‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,’ he intoned as Jos’s coffin was lowered into the ground.
Overcome with horror, Kate let his words fade into the background of her consciousness. She reached into the pocket in her skirt and closed her fingers tightly round the wedding ring that Matthew had given to her that morning, as soon as they had left the Lawsons’ cottage. ‘My brother would want you to have it,’ he’d said.
The sound of the heavy earth hitting the coffin was like a blow to her stomach and she felt a hot surge of nausea rise to her throat. Fighting to swallow the bile, she backed away from the graveside, where the proceedings seemed to become more and more unreal.
She saw one or two faces turn and stare at her but, fortunately, they left her alone. If any kind soul had tried to comfort her she might have broken down and told them that not only was she grieving for Jos and the happy future his foolish action had stolen from her, but she was angry with him too, and fearful. Fearful because he had left her to face the consequences of their loving alone.
The doors of the mission hall were open but Kate, who had avoided her mother’s attempts to gather her into the family fold and walked back alone, was reluctant to enter. She did not want to mingle and talk with the mourners because she was acutely aware of her place – or rather lack of it. A sweetheart but not a bride. She was not part of the Linton family and now never would be, yet she had already distanced herself sufficiently from her own family to realize that she would always feel out of place with them.
Mrs Linton had organized the funeral tea along with Kate’s own Aunt Meg, who had stepped in to help the widowed George Lisle. Margaret Lawson, her father’s elder sister, had never married and often helped out at funerals, weddings and baptisms. Kate had always been fond of her aunt and her kindly presence was reassuring. Eventually Aunt Meg saw Kate hovering in the doorway and came to get her.
‘I could do with a hand,’ she said gently.
‘But—’
‘Mary Linton’s useless with grief. I’ve telt her to sit down with her man.’
‘Of course.’
Kate was aware of pitying looks as she followed her aunt through the hall past the long trestle tables laden with food. Once in the small kitchen she was glad to busy herself with washing and drying dishes, only half concentrating on anything her aunt said until the moment Meg took hold of her arm and said, ‘Kate, I asked you to take those sandwiches in a good ten minutes ago.’
‘Oh . . .’ Kate turned from the sink and frowned. ‘Sandwiches?’
‘Yes. That plate there.’ The older woman nodded towards the table where a meat server was piled high with ham and pease-pudding sandwiches. ‘You can take them round, show yourself, and then, if there’s any left, put the plate on the table.’
‘But—’
‘You’ve hidden away in here long enough, pet. You have to show your respect. I know it will be hard. Just this once, then you can come back here.’
‘Please, Aunt Meg, don’t make me.’
Her aunt sighed and shook her head. ‘I know how you must feel, lass; as if no one could ever understand what you’re going through. But I do.’
‘Do you?’
‘Why shouldn’t I? I’m no stranger to grief, you know. Why do you think I never married?’
‘I . . .’ Kate stared at her aunt, disconcerted and momentarily shaken out of her self-pitying mood.
‘I didn’t always look like this, you know. I was once as bonny as you are, if I say it myself, and I had more than my share of chances. But I’d had a lad that was just as handsome as your Jos, and I’d lost him, just as you have. Only it wasn’t a bit of daft carry-on that took him – he was drowned in a storm. They never got back to the harbour in time.’
‘Aunt Meg . . . don’t!’ Kate felt her knees buckling and her aunt hurried to help ease her down onto a chair.
‘I’m sorry, Kate. I shouldn’t hev said that about the daft carry-on. But it has to be said that Jos might hev brought it on himself – and poor Barty, too – while many another good lad is lost while they’re working hard for their families. But what happened isn’t your fault. Here, dry your eyes.’ The older woman took a clean man-sized handkerchief out of the pocket in her apron and handed it to Kate. ‘It’s a pity your friend Jane couldn’t hev come today. You’d have had someone your own age.’
‘They wouldn’t let her have the time off.’
‘Hard-hearted!’
‘No, that’s the way it is in those big houses. Jos wasn’t a relative of hers, after all.’
‘I suppose so. Now, how are you feeling?’ Her aunt nodded towards the plate of sandwiches. ‘I would take them in meself, pet, but I’m weary. I wouldn’t mind sitting awhile.’
Kate looked at her aunt properly and saw that the elderly woman did indeed look tired. Her fading auburn hair had escaped from its neat bun and was hanging down her back. Her eyes looked puffy and her face was drawn.
‘Of course. I’m sorry. I’ll take these in and anything else that’s ready.’
‘There’s nowt else. As I say, take these and then come back and we’ll hev a bit to eat together in here.’ Aunt Meg indicated two plates piled high with sandwiches, sausage rolls and a slice or two of plain cake.
‘I’m not hungry.’
But even as she said it Kate knew that wasn’t true. She was hungry. She was young and healthy and, in spite of her overwhelming grief, the fresh air on the headland and the walk there and back had given her an appetite. She was glad that her aunt was giving her the opportunity to eat in here, away from the public gaze. She had an idea that people would be expecting her to be too grief-stricken to eat. It puzzled her that she wasn’t.
Before Kate had even left the kitchen her aunt had dragged another chair up to the table and sunk down. She poured a cup of tea and then reached into the pocket of her pinafore and pulled out a small flask. Kate paused in the doorway and watched as the older woman unscrewed the cap of the flask and tipped a generous measure of spirits into her tea. Aunt Meg looked up and smiled.
‘Divven’t frown, lass. Just a little gin to buck me up a bit. You can’t say I don’t deserve it. Now get away with you.’
Kate forced herself to smile gravely at the guests as she moved around the hall. Most of them murmured sympathetically that they were sorry for her loss. She realized that her aunt had been right to encourage her to do this. Her mother and her elder brother, William, looked pleased with her. Nan nodded towards where Thomas was sitting with some of the younger men round the fire burning in the big iron range.
‘You can tell that lot not to hog the fire. Give some of the old folk a chance to warm their bones.’
‘I will.’
Kate was beginning to feel chilled, as much from low spirits as because of her rain-damp clothing. She felt herself drawn towards the warmth of the fire where her twin brother sat with Matthew Linton and some of the younger men. She noticed that they were sitting in a tight group with their heads together, talking earnestly. They were too engrossed in their conversation to hear her coming. She was just about to call out to Thomas when something she heard shocked her into stillness.
‘Jos said we should settle for the bastard,’Thomas said quietly, but the fury in his voice gave his words clarity.
‘Jos said?’ someone asked.
‘Aye. Now that he’s gone we mustn’t forget.’ She couldn’t make out who had said that but the others were nodding in agreement. And they were clearly agitated.
‘We must act together . . .’
‘Show Adamson we won’t be beat . . .’
‘Sink the bastard . . .’
Kate heard further snatches of the conversation but then the cry of a child further down the hall made one of the men look round. He saw Kate, coughed and sat back. She had no idea how he had managed to convey that they were no longer alone but suddenly the tone and the content of the conversation changed. Matthew seemed to be telling the others about a strange and ugly fish he’d once caught. He’d taken it to the College of Science in Newcastle but nobody knew what it was. It was there still, pickled in a jar.
Suddenly the air of conspiracy had dissipated.
Conspirators?
Is that what they had looked like, Kate wondered? What in God’s name had they been talking about? And if there was a conspiracy, what had Jos had to do with it? Good-natured, easy-going Jos. He’d shared everything with her, hadn’t he? And yet now it seemed there had been secrets . . .
Conspirators?
Is that what they had looked like, Kate wondered? What in God’s name had they been talking about? And if there was a conspiracy, what had Jos had to do with it? Good-natured, easy-going Jos. He’d shared everything with her, hadn’t he? And yet now it seemed there had been secrets . . .
‘Are those for us, Kate?’ Thomas stood up and came towards her. ‘Here, let me take them.’ He reached for the sandwiches. ‘Do you want to sit by the fire for a while? You look cold. Shall I get you a chair?’
‘No, it’s all right. The kitchen’s warm and Aunt Meg has a plate waiting for me.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. I’d rather.’
Thomas made no further attempt to persuade her, and although everyone in the group smiled sympathetically at her, she had the impression that they were glad she had chosen not to join them. She thought her brother looked uncomfortable. He shot her a glance that she could only interpret as guilty before she turned and left them.
Thomas will tell me what this is about, she thought as she returned to the kitchen. Kate was the elder twin, and even though it was only by a few minutes she had always taken the lead. When they were children she had been the adventurous one who had as often as not led her more docile brother into trouble. As they grew she had still taken the lead. Brighter than he was, she had often helped him at school and now they were grown Thomas still came to her for advice.
That was why this was so puzzling. Thomas, like Jos, had never hidden any secrets from her. She decided she would ask her brother outright what the group by the fire had been talking about. She was confident that he would tell her.
Apart from Kate and her aunt, the Lintons were the last to leave. James and Mary Linton along with their surviving son, Matthew, stood together and acknowledged the murmured condolences of the departing guests. There was dignity in the way they held themselves but Kate, watching from the kitchen doorway, saw that Mary Linton was being supported by both her husband and her son. If they had removed their arms she would surely have fallen to the floor.
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