The Fisher Lass (21 page)

Jeannie stared at him. ‘Tom? Tom went straight out again on another boat?’ She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

Robert nodded. ‘Yes, I have to admit, it surprised me a little. He’s not exactly got the name for being a “born fisherman”. Not like his father.’ He paused and then
added, ‘You’ll be all right, won’t you? I mean, the office will let you have his money.’

Jeannie nodded. ‘Och aye. I suppose,’ she added with wry amusement, ‘there’s one good thing about it. Half his pay won’t disappear across the bar at the
Fisherman’s.’

As Jeannie walked home she realized that far from being the courageous act it appeared on the surface, Tom would rather brave the perils of the ocean than face the problems at home.

Robert called at the Lawrences’ house in Baldock Street the following day and thereafter, regularly every week, running the gauntlet of the gossips in the street and the
tales that would be told.

‘It must be him, that’s the father of Grace’s bairn.’

‘No, no. It’s the other one. Mr Francis. One of the girls from Aggie’s told me. She used to meet him there. Daft over him, she was. But, of course, he denies it.’

‘Mebbe she ain’t sure which of ’em it is.’ And the raucous laughter would echo around the fishdocks, tearing Grace’s reputation into shreds.

Now, Jeannie did not refuse Robert’s help and, whilst it went against her proud nature to accept money from him, this time she took it and spent it on titbits to tempt Grace’s
appetite or things for the coming baby.

When he stepped into the tiny, stuffy kitchen on his first visit and sat down on the opposite side of the fireplace to Grace, Robert was appalled by the change in the girl.

Later, outside, he said, ‘Oh Jeannie, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about this.’

She looked at him keenly and could read the haunted look in his eyes. There was more there, she thought shrewdly, in those brown depths than just sorrow at the downfall of a fisherman’s
daughter. In that moment she was sure, now, that there was some truth in the servants’ gossip that his marriage was not all that it might, or should, be. And he had told her as much
himself.

Overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of pity for him, she reached out towards him and touched his arm. ‘We appreciate your kindness, Mr Robert, all of us. But even I, this time, have to say
that the fault is as much Grace’s as – as the man concerned.’

He gazed long into her eyes and murmured, simply, ‘She loves him, Jeannie.’ His voice dropped to a whisper as he added, ‘You – you should know how that feels.’

It was as if a gigantic wave had hit her, carrying her on its crest in a flood of emotion. The blood was pounding in her ears and she felt suddenly giddy. She felt an overwhelming desire to
reach up, to cup his face between her hands and to kiss his mouth.

‘What is it?’ she heard his concerned voice say as if from a great distance.

Swiftly, her voice hoarse, she managed to say, ‘Nothing – nothing. I . . .’ But she could say no more, for there was such a tumult of emotions going on inside her that she was
robbed of her power of speech.

‘Jeannie, what is it? Are you unwell? Here, let me take you back into the house.’

Solicitously, he took hold of her arm and made as if to lead her back indoors, but she resisted. ‘No, no. I’m fine. I’m better out here. In the fresh air.’

‘Let me fetch you a chair, then?’

‘No, no, really. Thank you. You go. Dinna let me keep you. I’ll be all right.’

She didn’t want him to go and yet she couldn’t bear him to stay. She needed to be alone. To control her riotous emotions and castigate herself sternly for them.

‘I don’t like to leave you like this.’

‘Please, I’ll be fine. It’s just the heat, I expect.’ The July weather was capricious and today was hot and oppressive.

‘Well, if you’re sure?’ She nodded and he stepped back from her but he did not turn away and leave her immediately. He saw her glance about her as if looking to see who of
their neighbours in the street might be watching. He followed her glance and saw that there were two or three women further down the road who had found it imperative that their front steps needed
scrubbing at this very moment.

‘You’re right,’ he said, giving her a quick, understanding smile. ‘I’d better be going.’ Then glancing down briefly towards the now-obvious mound of her
stomach, he said huskily, ‘Take care of yourself, Jeannie, won’t you?’

She watched him go, walking up the street away from her towards his motor car.

I love him, she thought and the knowledge made her ridiculously happy. I’ve fallen in love with him. But then as realization of her true situation crept into her mind, she felt plunged
into the depths of despair.

But I shall never, she told herself, know what it is to be loved by him.

Jeannie’s baby was due about a month after Grace’s, but when the expected date of the younger girl’s confinement came and passed by, Jeannie became
concerned.

‘I wish Tom was home.’ A tiny vestige of hope still remained that he would help her shoulder the burden of worry. But, more than that, Jeannie needed to see her husband, needed his
reassurance that he loved her and to prove to herself that she still loved him.

‘The men are best out of the way, hen,’ Nell was saying. ‘This is women’s work.’ It was the first time during the long months of waiting that Nell had shown any
concern for her daughter.

At once Jeannie decided to try to encourage Nell’s involvement. ‘Was your husband away at sea when your two were born?’

Nell’s expression softened. ‘My George was different. Very different.’ She glanced at Jeannie and then away again, almost apologetically. ‘He was a fine man. One you
could lean on, lass. But I’m afraid, Tom, though I love him dearly, mind, well, he’s not quite got the strength of character his father had.’

Jeannie stared at her mother-in-law. She had never thought to hear such words from a mother’s lips. But she could not think about that now. Grace was more important. ‘Do you think we
should get the midwife?’

Nell pushed her spectacles up her nose. ‘Aye, you could.’

‘Please, won’t you go up and look at her. She hasna even got out of her bed all day.’

‘We’d soon know if it was coming, hen,’ Nell said. ‘We’d hear her down here.’

Jeannie sighed and levered herself up from the chair by the range and reached up to the lamp to turn down the light.

‘Leave it, hen. I must stay a while and do a little more braiding.’

Jeannie glanced over her shoulder at the older woman and shook her head. ‘You shouldna be staying up half the night at the nets. It isna right.’

Nell sighed heavily. ‘I’ve got to do something, hen. It’s not fair to expect Tom to keep the lot of us.’

‘Then I’ll stay and help you.’

‘No, no . . .’ Nell now rose stiffly from the chair. ‘No, you away to your bed. I promise I’ll only bide an hour or so.’

‘We-ell . . .’ Jeannie said slowly. ‘Mind you do.’ And she wagged her forefinger in mock admonishment.

At half past two in the morning Jeannie awoke to find Grace sitting up in bed beside her and moaning. When Tom was away, they shared the double bed in the front bedroom, Nell sleeping in the
back room.

‘Is it the bairn, hen?’

‘I – think so.’ The girl leant back against the pillows, her face, in the low night-light they had kept burning through the dark hours for the past few nights, was wet with
sweat.

Jeannie heaved her bulk from the bed and began to dress hurriedly.

‘Don’t leave me, Jeannie,’ Grace gasped.

‘I must fetch the midwife. Mrs Jackson, isn’t it? The ship’s runner’s wife? I’ll wake your mother before I go.’

‘No, no, don’t. She only came up half an hour ago.’

Jeannie clicked her tongue against her teeth in annoyance. ‘So much for her promise, eh?’

‘What?’

‘Ne’er you mind, hen. Lie back and try to keep calm.’

Ten minutes later she was banging on the door of number twenty at the bottom of the road. The window above opened and Mr Jackson, his bald head shining in the moonlight, his mouth shrunken in,
squinted down into the street below.

‘Who’s that?’

‘Jeannie Lawrence, Mr Jackson. Could you ask Mrs Jackson to come to Grace, please? It’s her time.’

‘She ain’t here.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Gone t’other side town. Midwife there’s ill and she’s ’ad to tek her place.’

‘Then who can I get?’

The man shrugged. ‘Dunno. The doctor, I suppose.’

Jeannie bit her lip. It would be costly, but they’d have to have someone. She had no idea what should be done. And by the look of Grace already, the birth was not going to be easy.

But the doctor, too, was out on a call and when she returned home, she found Grace in a distressed state. Her cries had awakened Nell, who was standing beside her daughter’s bed, wringing
her hands.

‘Jeannie, get help. We must have help.’

Swiftly, Jeannie explained and added firmly, ‘There’s no one. We’ll just have to help her ourselves.’

‘If only George was here,’ Nell wailed and she pushed her fingers behind her glasses to wipe away the tears.

‘We can do it,’ Jeannie said. ‘You must tell me what to do . . .’

The woman looked up with startled eyes. ‘Me? I don’t know what to do.’

‘But you’ve had two children of your own.’

‘Yes, but . . .’ She watched helplessly as Grace writhed in agony now. ‘But George was here. He fetched the midwife and stayed with me.’ The tears flowed afresh.
‘All the time.’

Then the two women standing either side of the bed looked down at the girl in surprise as Grace gasped, ‘Aggie. Fetch Aggie. She’ll help me. She’ll know what to do.’

Jeannie looked across at Nell, the question in her eyes.

Nell was shaking her head vehemently. ‘I’ll no’ have that woman in ma hoose.’

‘But there is no one else and we need help,’ Jeannie argued.

Nell leant across the bed. ‘If you fetch that woman in here, I’ll no’ speak to you again, Jeannie Lawrence, as long as I live.’

Jeannie’s lips parted in a gasp of surprise. She had not realized that Nell’s hatred of the woman and all that she was supposed to be went so deep that she would put her own
daughter’s life at risk. For, as Jeannie looked down at Grace, at the sweat running down her face, at the dark shadows of suffering beneath her eyes and the gaunt hollows of her cheeks, she
knew it was exactly that. If they didn’t do something quickly, Grace’s life was ebbing away.

Jeannie made her decision. ‘I’m sorry, but I must think of Grace. If Aggie Turnbull is the only hope we have, then . . .’ She said no more but turned swiftly away and hurried
down the stairs again as quickly as her own cumbersome bulk would allow.

Dawn was breaking as Jeannie hammered on the door of the notorious house two streets away from the Lawrence home. It took some minutes before the door was opened by a bleary-eyed Aggie
herself.

‘Heavens!’ the woman uttered. ‘What on earth brings you to my door?’

‘It’s Grace. She’s come to her time and – and there’s something wrong. The midwife and the doctor are both out and – and—’

‘I’ll come at once,’ Aggie said and was already turning back towards the stairs.

‘I’ll go back now, but please, hurry.’

The woman turned, resting her hand for a brief moment on the newel post at the foot of the stairs. ‘Does Nell know you’ve come for me?’

Jeannie nodded. ‘Aye, but she doesna like it.’

Again, the small smile. ‘No,’ she said softly, ‘I don’t expect she does.’ Briskly then, she said, ‘You go back, I’ll be as quick as I can.’

‘Thank you,’ Jeannie said simply.

To Jeannie’s horror when she reached home again, Nell was standing in front of the net on the wall, seemingly calmly braiding and completely ignoring the desperate cries of the girl in the
room above.

Jeannie shook her head in disbelief but said, ‘She’s coming. I’ll get clean sheets ready and towels. What else do we need?’

Nell made no sign of having heard. Her mouth tight, her shoulders rigid, her fingers worked faster and faster, only pausing to push her spectacles up the bridge of her nose every so often.

Jeannie set the kettle to boil and a large pan of water too. Somewhere she’d heard about boiling water at such a time, but she didn’t know exactly what it was for. Back upstairs, she
sponged Grace’s brow and stood helplessly whilst the girl gasped and groaned.

Suddenly, Aggie was beside them, bending over Grace and saying gently, ‘Now then, my dear. Let me look at you.’ Swiftly, and to Jeannie’s inexperienced eye, Aggie examined the
girl knowledgeably. Then she looked up at Jeannie and said quietly, ‘It’s not coming normally. You’ll have to get a doctor. I think it’s breech and with her being so small,
it could be dangerous. She’s already weak.’

Jeannie waited to hear no more but was already lumbering down the stairs again. Nell had drawn back the curtains and now Jeannie saw that it was full daylight.

‘I must find a doctor,’ she told Nell. ‘Something’s wrong. Please, go up to her, Mother.’ It was the first time Jeannie had used the name to Nell and she did it
deliberately, trying to force Nell to overcome her prejudice and help her daughter. ‘She needs you.’

But Nell continued to move between pantry and kitchen setting the table for breakfast as if everything within the household was just as normal. Exasperated and fearful of wasting any more time,
Jeannie pulled on her coat and rushed into the street.

The midwife was still not home, nor was the doctor.

‘Do you know of another doctor?’ she asked the maid who answered the surgery door, but the girl shook her head.

Jeannie was almost frantic with worry and as she hurried down the steps and on to the pavement to cross the road, she almost stepped in front of a motor car. There was a squeal of tyres as the
driver swerved to miss her. She stepped back and lifted her hand in apology, but the driver had drawn his motor to the side of the road and the noise of the engine died as he leapt down and came
towards her.

Oh no, Jeannie thought abstractedly. This is all I need. Some man giving me a telling off for not looking where I was going.