Liverpool Taffy (17 page)

She had taken her coat, scarf and gloves off, and her boots, too, and now, whilst she waited for the cocoa to be cool enough to drink, she examined the rest of her garments. Her brown cardigan was soaked – she slipped it off – and so was her skirt. Best change that, too. She thought stockings a waste of money but was wearing an old lisle pair of Ellen’s, much darned, and some thick fishermen’s socks over them, to try to combat the cold from the rubber boots. The stockings were soaked from boot-top to welt, but the socks were dry.

She was sitting on the kitchen stool, sipping her drink and taking ravenous bites from her jam sandwich, when she heard a noise in the hallway below, or thought she did. Gracious, suppose someone came visiting and there was she, sitting on the stool in her knickers and patched, shrunken vest and nothing much else! I’d best get some dry things out, Biddy told herself, conscience-stricken, though she heard no more sounds from the hallway. Better safe than sorry, anyroad.

She slid off the stool and padded barefoot across the kitchen. She stopped for a moment on the tiny landing, then opened the bedroom door. She had a clean grey skirt in her half of the wardrobe….

But something was happening amongst the pink blankets and crisp white sheets of the big double bed. There was a heaving and a grunting, much movement, little cries….

Was Ellen ill? Had she not gone to work after all this morning, or had she been sent home? Biddy took an incautious step into the room and suddenly realised that there was a face she didn’t know staring, round-eyed and incredulously, up at her. Hair stood up, thick and grey, streaked with white, on the stranger’s head and just under his chin was a yellow thatch topping a small, cheeky face which she knew well. Ellen was in bed with … oh God, it was Mr Bowker, Bunny Big Bum himself!

To say that Biddy was dumbstruck was putting it mildly, but at least she acted in the best way possible. She simply turned on her heel, closing the door gently behind her, and fled. Back in the kitchen, she rearranged her coat, scarf, tammy and gloves so that the side which was dry was turned away from the heat and the side which was still wet towards it, and then she got herself hastily into her still-damp skirt and blouse. She left her cardigan to drip, but she put on the fishermen’s socks. Then she sat down on the stool again, her heart thumping and her cheeks burning, and waited for retribution.

It was not long in coming. Presently the door opened cautiously and Ellen came into the room, closing the door gently behind her. Her face was scarlet.

‘Oh, Bid … I told ’im you was a sister, just popped in to see me, like, an’ ’e said what about the lock, ’e’d locked it ’isself an’ ’e wasn’t about to believe you was able to get through a locked door. ‘E’s ever so angry wi’ me, ’e went on at me ever so. Can you think of anythin’ to calm ’im down?’

‘I think the only thing to do is tell …’ Biddy was beginning, when the door opened again and Mr Bowker came, with calm and deliberate steps, fully into the room. He looked steadily at Biddy and it occurred to her that he had quite a strong face, and was not at all the foolish old man she had imagined. He had flattened his thick grey-and-white-streaked hair and his roundish, pinkish face no longer looked flustered or embarrassed, but rather accusing instead. He addressed her at once, without preamble.

‘Were you about to say the only thing to do was to tell the truth? Because I do commend that attitude most earnestly.’

‘Yes, I was,’ Biddy said. She could feel Ellen’s anxiety and her own bright colour had fled, she knew, leaving her white as milk. She was so happy here and through her own foolish forgetfulness she had mucked the whole thing up. Mr Bowker would send Ellen away and naturally that would mean that she, Biddy, would be homeless once more. Why oh why had she not remembered that Mr Bowker often came back with Ellen in their dinner break? Why oh why was she such a selfish idiot?

‘Good. Truth may avail you something, though I’ve no idea what. Fire ahead then.’

There was a pause whilst Biddy collected her thoughts, then she began to speak. She spoke slowly and clearly and did not once look at Ellen but kept her eyes fixed on Mr Bowker’s chilly grey gaze.

‘Ellen and I are old friends. We were at school together and we lived near, too. When my mother died, though, I had nowhere to go, and Ellen offered to take me in.’

Ellen gave a low moan. She obviously thought that Biddy had not really intended to tell the truth, but what else could I do, Biddy thought miserably. Lies were far too complex – too late, as well.

‘She offered to let you live here?’

‘Yes, she did. On condition that I understood it was not her property and behaved myself properly, and was never here when you wanted to call. She – she was lonely when you weren’t able to be with her, and with me here as well there could be no – no misunderstandings over – over her position.’ Beside her, Biddy felt Ellen relax a little. ‘She thought it was better, safer, all round, if there were two of us, rather than her living here alone,’ she finished.

Mr Bowker frowned. ‘Two of you would be safer than one?’

Ellen clearly thought it was time she took a hand. ‘Mr Bowker, you know I’d ’ad fellers before I met you. Well, some of ’em were … were persistent, like. They saw me with a neat ’ome – home – of my own and I couldn’t tell ’em about you, could I? It were – was – difficult for me to keep ’em at bay until Biddy here moved in.’

Mr Bowker nodded slowly, but his eyes never left Biddy’s. ‘And you are a good girl? I’m afraid I don’t know your name, apart from Biddy, that is.’

‘I’m Bridget O’Shaughnessy, sir,’ Biddy said breathlessly. ‘And I’m a good girl … well, I’m not yet sixteen, so young gentlemen don’t consider me old enough to be interesting, I don’t think.’

Mr Bowker gave a short bark of amusement. ‘No? Are the young men of Liverpool blind, Miss O’Shaughnessy? However, I take your word for it because I can see you’re not a liar. And I do believe you’ve got a point. You can keep little Ellie here on the straight and narrow far more easily than I can, because I have – commitments – which make it difficult for me to visit her as often as I should wish. Do you pay rent?’

‘Not very much. Two shillings a month.’

Mr Bowker’s eyebrows rose. ‘Ellen is very generous with my property, two shillings a month is a small rent indeed! Very well then, Miss O’Shaughnessy! I am prepared to let you remain here, paying your present rent, whilst you can tell me with your hand on your heart that Ellen doesn’t bring gentlemen back to the flat. I don’t believe she does, but I’d like to be certain.’

Biddy, guiltily remembering the late-lamented George, nodded her head vehemently.

‘Indeed I’m sure Ellen wouldn’t bring gentlemen back here, Mr Bowker, but you have my word that if she did such a thing, I would move out at once. I can’t say fairer than that, can I?’

He nodded curtly, then glanced across at Ellen, his eyes softening. He’s mad for her, Biddy thought, he really adores her and believes every word she tells him! And he’s rather nice, she must settle for what she’s got, though to do Ellen justice since George had disappeared she had never once brought anyone back to the flat, and though she enjoyed flirting with her dancing partners she was as reluctant as Biddy to meet them outside the Acacia dance hall.

‘Agreed, Ellen darling? You wouldn’t deceive me?’

Scarlet-faced, Ellen threw herself across the kitchen and into Mr Bowker’s arms, causing him to stagger and go almost as red as she.

‘As if I would, Mr Bowker!’ she said rapturously. ‘Oh, I hated deceiving you over Biddy, now everything will be so nice and straightforward. But Bid, whatever are you doing here in the middle of the day?’

‘I got soaked through doin’ my deliveries,’ Biddy admitted. ‘My carry-out was all soggy as well, so I came back for a warm and some dry clothes. Only I never thought …’

‘We must go,’ Mr Bowker said, cutting across Biddy’s explanation. ‘Come along, my dear, we’ll leave Miss O’Shaughnessy in peace to finish her meal and dress in dry clothing.’ He turned to Biddy, starting to smile.
‘Good afternoon, Miss O’Shaughnessy, it’s been a pleasure meeting you.’

They reached their fishing ground on the eighth day out and began their search. Already ice was building up everywhere, so that very soon the
Bess
would not look like a ship at all, but just a roughly made chunk of ice. Dai and Greasy were old hands now, this was their third trip and they knew exactly what they were doing. They fought the encroaching ice without being told to do so because they knew that if the ice built up too much then the sheer weight of it could force the vessel to turn turtle, and if that happened there would be no survivors. In the extreme cold, men would be dead moments after touching the water.

Everything was different out here, even the compass could lie as it swung wildly, searching for magnetic north. The sea seemed always rough, the breakers coming at you from all angles, and because of their nearness to the pole the earth’s rotation deflected their little cockleshell craft from their planned path.

But below decks it was as warm and pleasant as the crew and the officers could make it. Above, it was a white hell of ice, with everything hidden a few yards from the ship’s side by the persistent, drifting fog.

Dai knew better than to lean on the rail because anything you touched out here would freeze you into position like a fly in amber, but he stood near it, staring. He wore a woollen hat beneath his sou’wester, a scarf wrapped around his nose and mouth, two thick jerseys under the waterproof smock, but he was still cold. His breath had frozen on the scarf and when he breathed out it semi-melted, then froze again. The only thing that thrived in these conditions were the fish, and there were fish down there, big ’uns, but you didn’t shoot your trawl until you were right on top of them, and the skipper would choose the right moment.

Presently the bell for watch change sounded and Dai turned and made his way to the bridge; he was on bridge watch for the next four hours and that meant spending an awful lot of time keeping your eyes peeled … not for other shipping but for icebergs.

They were beautiful, there was no doubt about that, but deadly, too. They swung along as though they knew where they were going, performing their cumbersome dance of curtsies and dips as they went, great mountains of azure and emerald ice, carved by the rough seas into peaks and turrets, castles and canyons. The bit you saw seemed vast, but you soon learned that beneath the ’berg on the surface wallowed ice seven times as large again. If you went too close – or if she veered in your direction before you could take evasive action – you could be sucked under by the currents she caused, or holed on her hidden ice.

Dai entered the bridge and the warmth enfolded him like a blessing. Behind the wheel the Mate turned and grinned at him.

‘Taking over from me? Keep her on slow ahead … there’s pack-ice around as well as the ’bergs. But we’ll see Bear Island soon, and that’s where the best fish lie. No use trawling until you’ve sounded the sea-bed, ask anyone. Well, ask the old man, he’s the one who’ll give the order to shoot the trawl. All right?’

‘Fine,’ Dai said, slipping into the place the Mate had just vacated and putting his hands to the smooth wood of the wheel. ‘Col will be along quite soon, he’ll see I don’t do nothing stupid.’

‘I’m staying until Col gets here,’ the Mate said with a dry chuckle. ‘One stupid move by you, boy, and we could all be dead. Look at that one, on your port bow!’

The iceberg was another castle in the air, fretted turrets reaching up towards the sky, delicate sea-green ribs flanked by misty blue shadows which deepened to indigo. And against it the sea sucked and swirled, now green, now grey, now whiter than snow as a big wave crested and crashed against the ice. It gives you something to remember, the strangeness, the beauty, Dai told himself, glancing at the ’berg and then back to the
Bess
’s intended path. But it didn’t do to forget what you were doing and let yourself marvel at it; you wouldn’t last long if you did that.

They had found bottom, which meant they had found fish, or thought they had, and were about to shoot the trawl. All hands were on deck, except firemen and the chief engineer of course. The firemen never stopped stoking their boilers, the engineer watched his dials and corrected them, tuning the engine’s note until it sounded just right. It was important not to lose power in these tricky, unpredictable seas.

It was near midnight, the sky clear for once and streaked and coloured by the Northern Lights, which would have illumined every face aboard, only the oil lamps were lit for shooting the trawl. The men lined the rail, watching the sea’s surface but with one eye on the old man, standing on the bridge, watching them, the sea, the sky … his eyes everywhere.

Two men went to the winch, two more manned the door. The others took up their appointed places, Dai and Greasy amidships on the port side. Everyone poised, waiting.

The Skipper had his hands on the wheel; they called him the old man when he wasn’t listening but he was no more than twenty-eight or nine. You needed to be young and strong out here. Slowly, the Skipper brought the
Greenland Bess
broadside to the wind. The sea surged inboard as the engines slowed to a mutter, holding the little ship steady.

The Cod End was swinging out now, the Skipper leaning out of the bridge window, staring about him, judging, waiting. The trawl was unlashed and Dai found he was tense as a bow-string, eager for the command which must come any moment now.

‘Cod End outboard! Let go!’

There was a flurry of activity as the trawl shot into the sea. The Skipper had withdrawn into the bridge again and was once more giving orders down the voice pipe to the engine room. Dai watched as the trawl began to float free, the floats pulling against the swell. The order for ‘Slow Ahead’ had been given but the Chief knew his job; the
Bess
wallowed and went astern for a few seconds to allow the trawl to spread across the water before it sank.

The deck hummed with activity now. The winchmen released the brakes, the fore door and after door were released and crashed into the sea with a tremendous roar.