Lovers Meeting (27 page)

Later that evening, just the two of them sat at supper at the long table in the dining room. Prompted by Josie, Tom talked business throughout the meal, telling how he was about to make another voyage in the
Macbeth
to deliver coal to Davy at the Fishermen’s Rest. ‘All goes well there.’ Tom had also found another cargo to carry down to Hull. ‘And I’ve arranged for more.’ He went into details yet again. Josie listened, smiling.

But at the end of the meal he said, ‘That shop you rented before you went to London is doing a roaring trade.’

Josie replied happily, ‘Yes. And now we have Iris to run it, instead of Annie and Kitty having to fit it in with their other work. They’ve been marvellous.’

Tom’s gaze was fixed on her face. ‘So have you.’

‘I’m glad you approve of my efforts.’ Josie’s eyes fell before his.

Tom saw her embarrassment, wondered at it but changed the subject. ‘I had visitors earlier this evening.’

Josie hurried to his assistance. ‘Yes, I saw them as they left, so I told my cabbie to take us round to the kitchen entrance. I thought it would be better if we did not disturb you.’

‘We’d done talking, but I appreciate your consideration.’ Then Tom said ruefully, ‘They’d come to offer me a plum command, a ship bound for the Far East. It would be quite a big step up.’

Josie smiled, pleased for him. ‘That’s wonderful!’

Tom shook his head. ‘I turned it down. I feel my duty lies closer to home. Besides, I already have a command in the
Macbeth
. She needs a captain.’

Josie stared at him, open-mouthed. Then: ‘But that is a wonderful opportunity! It is a great compliment to your ability that they should seek you out and offer this command to you! You must take it!’

‘I can’t. I—’

Josie cut in on his protests. ‘Did they come to you because there is a great shortage of captains?’

Tom grinned wryly. ‘No. There are plenty of good men with master’s tickets looking for a berth.’

‘Then engage one for the
Macbeth
.’

‘There are still matters here that I—’

‘Would you expect to run this household and care for Charlotte while I was here?’

‘No, of course not, but the business—’

Josie, flushed with excitement now and with that proud lift to her head, pressed him. ‘You approved of my efforts in business matters so far. Trust me. Please. I know you want this ship and that you are sacrificing your career because you believe that is your duty – but it isn’t necessary.’ And now Josie begged him, ‘Trust me. I will never fail you, or Charlotte, or this house. Believe me.’

Tom saw that the girl was on the verge of tears but it did not influence his answer. ‘I believe you.’

He accepted the command the next day and found another captain for the
Macbeth
. Felicity Blakemore called and was delighted at the news: ‘I’m glad you’ve taken my advice and given up that dirty little tramp.’

Tom protested, ‘She’s not dirty!’

Felicity did not listen. ‘When you return we must fix a day for the wedding …’ She sat in the armchair in the office – Josie’s chair – and chatted of her plans while Josie brought tea. ‘And we are invited to a dance at the Pendletons’ this evening.’

Tom did not return from the dance until long after midnight. Josie, lying wakeful, heard the clattering hooves of his cab and the jingle of the harness, his tread as he passed her door. Hours later she stood at the front door in the dawn as he climbed into another cab, this one headed for the station, to catch an early train bound for London. Annie and Kitty stood beside her and Charlotte danced on the steps with excitement. Felicity was not present because of the dance the previous night.

Dan Elkington and Dougie Bickerstaffe swung Tom’s big sea chest up on to the roof of the cab. He had said, ‘A lot more to carry, dress uniforms to dine with the passengers, tropical kit …’

Tom lifted Charlotte high in the air then kissed her. He smiled at them all as the cab pulled away and they all waved and called their ‘goodbyes’. Except Josie, who only tried to smile.

He would be gone for half a year.

19

December 1908

‘Good morning, everyone.’ Josie had slept poorly for several nights after Tom’s departure but had striven to exhibit a forced brightness. She smiled around the kitchen now as she entered with Charlotte by her side. Kitty and Annie replied in chorus as they started the work of the day.

Josie joined them, trying to keep up her end in the singing and the chatter. ‘How are you, Annie?’ She covertly eyed the girl.

‘I’m fine, ma’am.’

Josie nodded, satisfied. She had – gently but firmly – relieved Annie of any heavy work because of the child she was expecting. That work had simply been transferred to Dan Elkington and he had taken on the added burden cheerfully. That reminded Josie: ‘Dan!’ she called him as he entered the kitchen by the back door. ‘I’ll need you down at the quay later on, then at the shop.’

‘Right y’are, ma’am.’

‘I’ll tell you when.’ Iris Taylor had taken over at the shop and this day they were expecting another delivery of produce from the
Macbeth
.

‘There’s the postman.’ Josie heard the
clack
! of the letterbox. She swept the kitchen with one swift glance and saw that all was now ready to serve the breakfast to her boarders. ‘I’ll leave you to finish off. Charlotte! Mind you do as you are told.’

‘Yes, Mrs Miller,’ Charlotte replied as she fed a crust of bread to Amelia, her doll.

Josie picked up the letters from where they lay inside the front door, carried them into the office and flicked through them quickly. There was one addressed to her in Tom Collingwood’s neat hand. She dropped the others on the desk and opened that one. The two sheets inside began: ‘Dear Mrs Miller …’ They were businesslike, almost curt, describing his doings since he had left, his ship and her crew. Josie smiled and shook her head. ‘Bless the man.’ They closed: ‘We sail within the hour. I trust you and all there are well.’ There was that word. He trusted her. And he had found time to write to her when he was on the point of sailing and must have been very busy. Josie slid the letter inside her dress to read again later.

The other letters were also businesslike. Josie kept the accounts and handled the affairs of the
Macbeth
and the lodging house. She banked any income and paid out wages and other expenditures. This besides bringing up Charlotte and running the house. Josie worked at the desk for half an hour, replying to letters when necessary, entering items in her accounts. As she put away her books she glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and nodded with satisfaction. There would be plenty of time to visit the Langley shipyard on her way back from the bank. ‘Charlotte!’

Soon afterwards she was walking briskly out of the square with Charlotte skipping by her side, both of them wrapped in warm winter coats against the cold wind. Josie knew it would be colder still by the river. At the bank in Bridge Street she drew out the money she needed and put it in the capacious bag she carried for the purpose. Then she and Charlotte went on to the Langley yard.

As they approached the yard, Charlotte asked, ‘What are those men doing?’ A horse and cart stood outside one of the end houses in a long terrace. Two men in overalls were lifting a wardrobe on to the cart which was already loaded with cheap, old furniture. A third man in a suit shiny with age was inside the house, fixing a crudely lettered sign to the window: ‘To Let.’

Josie said, ‘The people who live there are moving.’ She thought it was a pity she had not seen the house some weeks earlier. It would easily convert into a shop and was much larger than the premises Iris Taylor worked in. But would it be too large? Josie decided to think about it and walked on.

The big gates of the yard were shut, as they had been for months, but a door at the side opened on a passage that led past the timekeeper’s office and the watchman’s little hutch and so into the yard. The watchman, old Sammy Allnutt, came out to greet her, touching his cap with a thick, broken-nailed finger. ‘Aye, aye, Mrs Miller.’

‘Good morning, Sammy.’ Josie did not remember him from twenty years ago but she had been visiting the yard for some weeks now. She found it depressing – the melancholy aura of abandonment and desolation, the grass and weeds growing up between the rusting sheets of steel, the stacks of timber turning green with age. But something always drew her back again. She wondered if it was the Langley blood in her.

Sammy limped around the yard with Josie and Charlotte, glad of ‘a bit of crack’. Talking to Josie relieved the boredom of his long, solitary hours. He told her of old times as old men do, of when he was young and the yard was busy. He had a wealth of stories about the Langleys, William in particular, and Josie encouraged him to tell them. She was hungry for anything she could learn about these relatives of hers.

Now Sammy was saying, ‘Aye, he was a good man, auld Billy Langley, a man’s man. Fair, straight as a die. Mind, he could be hard when he thought it was needed.’ Josie knew that, remembered the day he had turned away her father. Sammy went on, ‘He had his ideas of what was right or wrong and he’d stick to them come hell or high water. Like when he caught Garbutt takin’ the money out o’ his pocket.’

‘Who?’ Josie questioned.

‘Elisha Garbutt,’ said Sammy. Josie frowned. The name struck a chord of memory but was elusive; she could not make a connection. And Sammy was going on, ‘He was manager here all o’ twenty years ago and the auld man had been good to him. When Billy Langley found Garbutt had robbed him – for years, mind – he sacked him on the spot. Billy came down into the yard to find him and told him in front o’ the men. “Get out,” he said. “You can go to hell on the road you’ve made. You’ll not work again on this river.” And Garbutt never did. He upped sticks and moved, him and all his family. I heard they went to Liverpool. Anyway, nobody saw them round here again.’

Josie shivered and Sammy squinted at her, his eyes narrowed against the wind. ‘Feelin’ the cold?’

‘No.’ But Josie could not tell him why she shivered. She corrected herself quickly. ‘Yes, a bit. But I’d better be getting away.’ She turned back towards the gate.

Sammy went with her. ‘Come and warm yoursel’ at my fire for a minute.’ And as Josie held out her hands to the blaze in his little cabin, with its single armchair and small table, he said, ‘But I’ve known Billy Langley send a parcel o’ grub along when he found out one of his men was off sick. He did lots o’ things like that. And he took that lad in, Tom Collingwood. A fine, big feller he’s turned out, a ship’s captain and a rare good ’un, but when Billy took him in he was roamin’ the streets with his belly empty and his trouser’s arse hangin’ out. And he wasn’t a lad that would get any pity or ask for it, either. He’d look you right in the eye as if to say: “I’m as good as you.” Aye.’ Sammy nodded. ‘They were two of a kind.’

Josie called as she left the yard, ‘Goodbye. I might look in tomorrow, but I’ll be in on Friday, anyway, with your wages.’

One day she would go there and regret it.

Josie waited on the quayside as the
Macbeth
came upriver and was nudged in against the quay by a bustling tugboat. When she was tied up and the gangway run out, Josie went aboard with Charlotte. ‘Hello, Captain Fearon. Did you have a good voyage?’

‘Aye. Weather wasn’t over-good but you expect that at this time of year.’ Fearon was in his fifties, tubby, grey, stolid and competent. He had been a master for nearly thirty years and had wanted a berth that gave him more time at home in the years running up to retirement. He had said when he applied for the job, ‘Captain of the
Macbeth
will suit me down to the ground.’

Now he stood by as Josie paid the crew their wages and then counted out the captain’s money. As he scooped up the sovereigns, Josie said, ‘I’ve got a cargo for you, sailing tomorrow night for Harwich. It’s all in there.’ And she handed him an envelope with the papers.

Fearon looked them over, nodding, then mentioned as an aside, ‘The supplies you ordered, they’re all below. When d’you want them up?’

Josie glanced at her watch then out of the scuttle, and she saw that Dan Elkington was on the quay on time, with the hired horse and cart as she had requested. She smiled at Fearon. ‘Now, please.’

So the derrick whisked the sacks and crates of produce out of the hold. Dan and Dougie Bickerstaffe loaded the eggs and butter, cabbages and potatoes, on to the cart. Josie and Charlotte climbed up on the seat beside Dan while Dougie jumped up on the tail of the cart, where he rode with legs swinging in time to his whistling.

Iris Taylor was waiting at the shop, ready in her sackcloth apron, and arranged her stock as Dan and Dougie unloaded it. Dougie was inclined to linger by Iris, murmuring in her ear while she laughed. Josie accepted this philosophically. The pair of them were still much more productive than Iris on her own. Josie heard Dougie say, ‘I’m off over the water as soon as I’m finished here.’ That meant he was going to cross the bridge over the river into the town. ‘I want a new pair o’ sea boots.’

Iris asked, ‘Can’t you buy them over here?’

Dougie shook his curly head. ‘There’s nobody this side of the water that sells anything like that.’

Josie had been on the point of leaving but now she waited until the job was done and Dan had returned the horse and cart to their owner. Then, as she walked home with Dan, she asked, ‘Do you mind if we go a bit out of our way?’ And when he shrugged cheerful acceptance she led him towards the Langley yard. As they came to the empty house she had seen earlier, she asked, ‘Do you think you could run a shop, Dan? A chandler’s? Selling sea boots, oilskins and suchlike to sailors?’

It was settled before they reached the Langley house. Again the business would be owned by the Langley Shipping Company, Josie having a one-third share. She was well pleased.

Dinner was waiting, to be eaten in the middle of the day and in the warm kitchen, now that Captain Collingwood, master of the house, was away. Josie told Charlotte, ‘Lessons for you this afternoon.’ But that did not frighten Charlotte and she ate on happily.