The Fisher Lass (10 page)

‘Tom, what is it?’ Jeannie tried to ease herself from his embrace, but the young man held on to her fiercely.

Now Grace was tugging at the sleeve of his jersey. ‘What’s the matter?’

Against her, Jeannie felt Tom drag in a shuddering breath and then he lifted his head, loosened his hold on her and stepped back a pace. But he did not let go of her hands, still clinging on
tightly as if he would never let her go.

‘I’m that glad to see you still here.’ And he gave her hands an extra squeeze. ‘Has there been any news?’

‘News, Tom?’ Grace said. ‘We don’t know what you’re talking about?’

Still his gaze was on Jeannie. ‘You mean, you haven’t heard anything?’

‘Heard what . . .?’ Then, as understanding dawned, Jeannie heard Grace draw in a sharp breath. ‘Oh no, you don’t mean Dad’s ship?’

Wildly, Tom shook his head. ‘That’s the trouble. I just don’t know. There was a terrific storm three nights ago and we heard that a boat had gone down. But I can’t seem
to find out which one. I don’t know what to do.’

Gently, Jeannie pulled herself free of his grip. ‘Won’t the dock office know?’

Tom ran his hand through his hair. ‘Yes, yes. They might. I suppose I’d better go there.’

Jeannie took hold of Grace’s arm and said, ‘We’ll come with you, Tom.’

But Grace held back. ‘You go. I – I’ll wait here.’

Jeannie turned to look at her in surprise. ‘But don’t you want . . .?’ she began and then noticed that Grace’s gaze had gone beyond her, beyond her brother, to the
building that housed the Gorton offices.

‘I bet that’s why they’re here.’ Grace nodded her head in the direction of the five men and as Tom turned his gaze and noticed them for the first time, Jeannie saw his
body stiffen. ‘I couldn’t understand it. I’ve never seen all of ’em come down to the dock ’afore. That’ll be why.’

‘Right,’ he said grimly. ‘We’ll see what Hayes-Gorton himself has to say.’

‘Oh no, Tom,’ Grace cried, catching hold of his arm. ‘Don’t make trouble. You know Dad wouldn’t want that.’

Her brother turned to face her, whilst Jeannie looked on silently. ‘I’m not going to make trouble, Grace. I just want to know what’s happened to me dad’s ship.’

‘But you said yourself, you don’t know that it is his. Not yet. Why don’t you . . .?’

‘Have you seen it come in?’ Tom flung his arm out wide to encompass the steady stream of trawlers nosing their way through the narrow dock gates and towards their assigned
positions.

‘No, but – but – they’re not all home yet. Not even all the ones that are due today. Likely his boat’s just late. Maybe tomorrow . . .’ Her voice, and her
argument, fell away.

Tom’s voice softened. ‘There’s no harm in me asking. They can’t do anything to me for just asking, can they?’ But now it was as if he were seeking reassurance
too.

Jeannie stepped in. ‘Then I’ll go. There’s nothing they can do to me . . .’ and added bitterly, ‘at least, not in broad daylight.’

Robert saw the girl pushing her way through the people milling about on the dockside, coming directly towards them, and his mouth was suddenly dry. Surely, she wouldn’t
make a scene? he thought and then answered himself at once. Oh yes, she would. He felt his breath coming faster and then she was standing before them, on a lower step, looking up at them, her bold,
green gaze resting on each of their faces in turn. And when she came at last to him, Robert saw the contempt in her eyes. But her glance flickered away from him and turned instead to his
father.

Becoming aware of her scrutiny, Samuel Hayes-Gorton looked down and said, ‘Well, young woman? What do you want?’

‘Sir, there’s a rumour going around the dock that one of the boats has gone down.’

Her tone was polite, but firm, deferential but certainly not fawning. At his side, Robert felt his father stiffen.

‘Nonsense,’ Mr Hayes-Gorton growled. ‘There are several not back yet. Whatever makes you think that?’

Jeannie opened her mouth to say that the son of one of the men aboard the
Gorton Sea Spray
had heard it even whilst still at sea, but she closed it again. The reason she was standing here
was because Tom himself did not want to be the one to enquire.

‘Then you’re saying,’ she said, ‘that you have not had word that a boat’s gone down?’

‘I’ve already given you my answer, young woman,’ Samuel Hayes-Gorton said, but neatly avoiding answering her question, whilst, beside him, Robert cringed. He saw the girl
glance again into the face of each of them as if she were trying to read the truth written there. As she turned away, his father muttered, ‘Get down there, boy, and scotch this rumour. Edwin,
you get back to the office. We must make sure word doesn’t get out.’

‘But I can’t tell them nothing’s happened when we know it has,’ Robert said, aghast to think that his father cared so little for the families of the men aboard the
Sea
Spray
that he would lie to them, just to ensure that, in two days time, his fleet would sail again, unhindered by the knowledge that a tragedy had befallen one of their boats.

‘You can’t . . .’ he began, but his father cut short his protest.

‘Don’t you tell me what I can or can’t do, boy. Get down there . . .’ And without waiting to hear any more Mr Hayes-Gorton turned and stamped up the steps into the
building.

‘You’d better do as Daddy says, old chap,’ came Francis’s smooth voice whilst Mr Hathersage gave a grunt and turned to follow his fellow trawler owner up the steps.

For a moment Robert made no move but, from his vantage point, he watched Jeannie make her way back to where a young man and a girl stood together, obviously waiting for her. He ran lightly down
the steps and followed her. As he neared the three, they turned to face him. Robert nodded briefly to Jeannie and then to Grace, feeling once more as he did so, the flush of shame creep up his
neck. He cleared his throat with a nervous sound and turned to face the young man. Strangely, both Tom and his sister refused to meet Robert’s eyes. Only the red-haired girl’s green
eyes met his challengingly. Despite his father’s orders, he could not lie to these people, so instead he said quietly, ‘If I promise to let you know, myself, immediately we have news,
would you – I mean – could you, please, say nothing to anyone else for the present?’

Jeannie, quick on the uptake, said, ‘Aye, I thought your father was avoiding answering my question.’

Keeping his voice level, Robert found himself replying to her, for the other two had not opened their mouths. ‘Well, in a way, yes, he was, but I think . . .’ He hesitated, for he
was in danger of lying too now and he hated being forced into doing so. ‘The truth is,’ he began afresh, ‘that we ourselves know very little at present and we don’t want
rumours to spread before we know the truth.’

Now Tom spoke, his tone deferential. ‘But you think something has happened then, sir? To the
Sea Spray
?’

Robert swallowed again, conscious the whole time of Jeannie’s steady, unforgiving gaze upon him. ‘Something’s happened, yes, but – but we don’t know what.
Yet.’

The young girl was crying now, clinging to her brother’s arm. ‘Oh no, not Dad. Not our dad.’

Robert’s eyes, full of sympathy and contrition, turned towards her. ‘I’m so sorry. So very sorry,’ he whispered and, as the three pairs of eyes now looked upon him, he
knew that they were all aware that he was not only apologizing for the tragedy which may have befallen the Lawrence family, but also for his part in the disgraceful incident on the night before his
wedding.

He saw Tom Lawrence give a brief nod. ‘Yes, sir, I do believe you are.’ And Robert felt that the young man too was referring to both events. He felt himself relax a little, believing
that his apology had been tacitly accepted, but when he turned to look directly at Jeannie he saw in her fine eyes that her understanding was not forthcoming.

Abruptly, he turned away, saying over his shoulder, ‘I’ll keep you informed. I promise,’ before he strode away.

As he ran back up the steps and into the building, Robert Hayes-Gorton was still thinking about the girl with the fiery hair.

More than anything, he had wanted her forgiveness.

‘What are we to tell your mother?’ Jeannie asked.

Tom hesitated and glanced at his sister. ‘I don’t think we should tell her anything. Not yet. What do you think, Grace?’

‘Not tell her?’ Jeannie was scandalized. ‘You mean we’re going to walk into that house and act as if – as if nothing’s happened?’

Now Tom would not meet her eyes. ‘There’s no point in upsetting her. Not till we know for certain. We’ll just say his boat isn’t in yet.’ He spread his hands.
‘After all, we don’t really know that anything has happened. Do we?’

‘But you heard what
he
said?’ Jeannie could not bring herself to refer to Robert by name. ‘Something’s going on.’

‘Yes, I heard,’ Tom said with quiet patience and resignation. ‘And I heard him promise to let us know as soon as he knew more himself. And he will.’

Jeannie gave a snort of contempt. ‘You think so?’

She made to turn away with an angry movement, but now Grace caught her arm. ‘Please, Jeannie, don’t say anything to Mam. Let’s do what Tom says.’

Jeannie shrugged her shoulders, but her mouth was still tight. She hated deceit of any kind and what was happening now, to this family, was all too close to her own tragedy for her to think
rationally. Had they all known back home that her father’s ship was missing? Had they, too, all kept the secret from her, just leaving her to come gradually to the realization that he was not
coming back? She hoped not. She didn’t want to think that of her own people, her own kin. She knew herself well enough, her own strengths and weaknesses, to know that she would have dealt far
better with the honest truth than this dreadful not knowing. Maybe never knowing.

Now, her words clipped by her anger, she lifted her shoulders as if shrugging off their problems. ‘It isna my business, anyway. I’ll be leaving soon. I’ll be going home –
to Scotland.’

And with that, she pulled free from Grace’s hold and marched away.

‘What do you mean, you can’t find out?’ Robert leant on his knuckles over the desk, towering over his brother.

Patiently, though with the anxiety evident in his voice, Edwin said, ‘We’ll find out when we’ve had time to talk to the men.’

‘Who? Which men? Let me talk to them. I’ll go. But tell me who?’

‘Calm down, Robert,’ Samuel Hayes-Gorton’s voice boomed as the door to Edwin’s office was flung open and their father, followed by Henry Hathersage and a languid,
bored-looking Francis. ‘We’ll know soon enough if the news is bad. And if it isn’t, I don’t want you spreading fear amongst the crews unnecessarily.’

Robert straightened up and turned to face his father but the older man put out his hand, palm outwards, to stave off further argument. ‘You know what might happen when we lose a ship. It
makes no difference to the real fishermen, they’re hardened to it. Accept it as part of the life, but the youngsters, well . . .’ He glanced at his son’s face and seeing the
puzzlement there, added, ‘A lot of them might not report for duty when the boats are ready to sail. They take fright or—’

‘Or their dear mamas will try to keep them safely tied to their apron strings at home,’ came Francis’s sarcastic tone.

‘What utter nonsense. Fishermen and their families have always accepted the hardships and dangers as part of the job. If you ask me, the women are every bit as courageous as their menfolk.
More so, in a way. They have to sit at home waiting. Just waiting.’

Francis laughed sarcastically. ‘Oho, all of a sudden we’re the expert on women, are we?’

Robert felt himself colour at the innuendo in his brother’s tone, but it was more from anger than embarrassment. He stepped towards the door, but passing Francis, he paused and thrust his
face close to his, saying hotly, ‘And even if they did try to keep their menfolk at home, can you blame them? I don’t see you joining a ship, my dear brother, and learning what this
trade – the trade that buys you all your luxury – is really all about.’

Francis smirked and raised his left eyebrow. ‘Oh yes, and how many trips have you done, old boy?’

Robert clenched his teeth, ‘None,’ then he added ominously, ‘. . . yet.’

‘Now, now . . .’ came his father’s voice, but Robert waited to hear no more and left the office slamming the door so hard behind him that the frosted glass in the upper panel
of the door cracked.

He ran down the stairs and once outside stood again on top of the flight of steps, his glance taking in the busy fishdock in front of him. He must speak to the skippers of the vessels which had
already docked. Surely someone must know something. For a moment, he paused. He didn’t want to spread alarm through the community without just cause. It was a hard life for the fishermen and
their families and whilst they all lived with the constant fear of disaster, he didn’t want to be the one to make things worse. At least, not until he knew for sure.

He could not get the picture of the Lawrence family out of his mind: of the young girl’s wide, fearful eyes, of the deep anxiety on the young man’s face. And the other one, Jeannie,
with her feisty spirit and her strength. He could see her so clearly; that glorious red hair flying freely in the breeze, wayward curls framing her face, her cheeks faintly pink from the cold and
the tiny peppering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. He sighed as he thought about her. Such a lovely mouth, yet when she looked at him it was tight with disapproval and those wonderful
green eyes held such contempt. Yet even though her look made him cringe in shame, he was sure he had seen sadness deep in those eyes.

He wanted to make it up to Grace Lawrence, but more than anything else, he wanted to see the look in Jeannie’s eyes soften towards him. He wanted to see her smile.

Oh yes, more than anything else he wanted her to smile at him.

In their shared bed that night, Grace snuggled close to Jeannie and whispered, ‘Don’t go away, Jeannie. At least not yet. Not till we know – about
Dad.’