The Fisher Lass (23 page)

Wordlessly, Nell nodded again but it was Jeannie who said, ‘Thank you for letting us know.’

Robert gave a slight bow, put on his black hat and said, ‘I’ll call to see you in a day or two, if I may.’

Now it was Jeannie who merely nodded and did not speak.

As the funeral party dispersed, Robert to his motor car, Nell and Jeannie to walk back home to offer tea and sandwiches to those neighbours who cared to call in, only Aggie Turnbull still stood
beneath the shadows of the trees, watching everything that went on.

When Tom first saw his son, the child was almost a month old. It was a difficult moment, Jeannie realized, for although he had already been told of his sister’s death and
knew her funeral had taken place, the joy in the birth of his son was marred by his sorrow. As he stood looking down at the sleeping boy, he said, ‘He’s like me dad.’ A slow smile
spread across his face. ‘I’m glad about that.’

‘Grace’s bairn is fair too,’ Jeannie said softly. ‘They’re very alike. At least, at the moment.’ She gestured towards the other cradle where the baby made
snuffling, whimpering noises.

‘Aren’t you going to move it away? It’ll wake
him
.’ There was a harshness, a strange belligerence in Tom’s tone.

‘They don’t wake each other. Not often, anyway.’ She watched Tom’s face as his gaze remained firmly fixed upon his own child.

‘Aren’t you going to look at your nephew?’

She saw him stiffen and glance up at her. ‘I aren’t interested in it.’

Jeannie stared at him. ‘What on earth do you mean?’

He shrugged his huge shoulders. ‘What I say,’ he said curtly. ‘It’s nowt to do wi’ me. Anyway, what’s going to happen to it? Mr Francis Hayes-Gorton going to
look after his bastard, is he?’

‘No,’ Jeannie said sharply. ‘We’re going to look after it – him.’ She altered her words quickly.

‘Oh no, we’re not.’

Jeannie stood facing him, anger welling up inside her. ‘What on earth do you mean?’ She leant closer to him, her glance raking his face, trying to read the meaning behind his words.
‘If you think the Hayes-Gortons are going to do anything, then you’re mistaken. Mr Robert’s been very kind, but even he . . .’

‘Oh aye. Mr Robert. Mr bloody Robert Hayes-Gorton’s nearly worn a path in the road leading to this door whilst I’ve been away, by what I’ve heard.’

Jeannie stepped back suddenly, as if he had physically hit her. She found, to her surprise, that she was defending Robert. ‘He was genuinely sorry. He’s been trying to do something
to help Grace’s bairn.’

‘Trying to help himself, more like.’

She shook her head, bewildered. She did not think herself naive or stupid, but she could not guess what Tom meant. ‘What
are
you talking about?’

‘He’s been coming here, hasn’t he?’

‘Yes, but I’ve told you—’

‘To see
you
.’ Whilst she knew herself innocent of his accusation, Jeannie could not help a quiver of embarrassment. Perhaps, she thought suddenly, perhaps Robert was visiting
a little too often. In the dark recess of her mind she remembered her wedding day and almost felt again the touch of his lips on her cheek. Because she had secretly acknowledged the change in her
own feelings towards Robert, now she could feel the colour creeping into her face.

Tom jabbed his finger into her chest. ‘Aggie ses—’

‘Aggie? You’ve been to see Aggie before you even came home to see your wife and your bairn for the first time?’

‘No, no, of course, I didn’t.’ Now Tom was on the defensive and Jeannie knew intuitively that in his temper he had said more than he had intended. ‘She – she was on
the dockside when the boats came in.’ He spread his hands in a gesture of appeal. ‘Jeannie – you know she always is.’

In this Jeannie knew he was speaking the truth. Mollified a little, she said, ‘Aye well, maybe so. But you shouldna have listened to her gossip. For all that she helped us at the births,
she’s still a blether.’

‘Eh?’ Now it was Tom’s turn to look mystified. ‘Here? She was here? I don’t believe it. Me mam would never let her across that threshold.’ He flung out his
hand towards the door to emphasize his words.

‘She had no choice,’ Jeannie said and told him all that had happened, ending by adding, ‘and she came to Grace’s funeral, though she kept well out of sight. But I saw her
there, standing beneath the trees.’

Tom said, his voice quieter now, ‘I think she was very fond of our Grace.’

‘Aye well,’ Jeannie sighed. ‘Maybe so, but it was at her place that Grace’s troubles started. Aggie condoned what was going on. Encouraged it even. Never forget
that.’

Now Tom looked a little sheepish. As if wanting to change the subject he glanced again towards the other cradle. ‘So, you want to keep him, eh?’

Jeannie’s anger flared. ‘You sound as if you’re talking about a kitten or a puppy, Tom. The wee man is your nephew and your mother’s grandchild. Her first grandchild, as
a matter of fact, for he was born a few hours before our own son.’

For a long moment, there was a heavy silence between them, then the man turned away with an angry, defeated movement. ‘Have it your own way then, but don’t expect me to treat him
like I’ll treat me own.’

He slammed out of the house, leaving Jeannie staring after him wondering how a man could be so callous towards the tiny mite.

She had thought Tom like his own father, and so consequently, like her own.

But the man she was seeing now was nothing like the kind-hearted Angus Buchanan.

‘We’re going to have to decide on names,’ Jeannie said, forcing a brightness into her tone. ‘We really can’t go on calling them Grace’s
bairn and young Tom, can we?’

‘What does Tom say?’ Nell asked.

Jeannie sighed. ‘He’s leaving it to us.’

Nell glanced at her over the top of her spectacles. ‘Don’t let him worry you, Jeannie. We’ll take him at his word. Now then . . .’ Nell came and sat down at the table.
‘Make us a cup of tea, hen, and let’s think.’

Jeannie set the kettle to boil and laid the cups out. ‘Well, of course, our way . . .’ she began, referring to the Scottish custom, ‘would be to call Grace’s bairn Samuel
and ours, George.’

Nell nodded. ‘After their paternal grandfathers.’ She was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I wonder what Grace would have wanted,’ she murmured sadly.

‘Probably “Francis” but I don’t think we should do that. It would look a bit pointed, wouldn’t it?’

Nell sighed. ‘Aye, I dinna want any more trouble or bad feeling. Tom’s got to keep his livelihood.’

Jeannie felt the older woman’s sharp eyes on her. ‘Not happy about Grace’s bairn, is he?’

‘No,’ Jeannie said shortly, ‘but I told him, the wee man bides here.’

‘Thank you, hen,’ Nell said simply. Jeannie said nothing but marvelled at the change in the woman since Grace’s death and the birth of her two grandsons. Nell bore none of the
resentment towards Grace’s child that she had shown to his mother in the final months of her life. Jeannie thought the saying that ‘they bring their love with them’ was very true
in this case. How she wished Tom could feel the same. And now, the poor woman must be feeling overwhelmed with remorse for the way she had treated her daughter.

Jeannie reached out and touched the wrinkled hands, lying, idly for once, on the table. ‘So,’ she asked softly, ‘what are we going to call them?’

‘We-ell,’ Nell said slowly. ‘I rather like Samuel and . . .’ She pushed her spectacles up her nose. ‘And my George’s second name was Joseph, and it was my
father’s name too, but do you like it?’

Jeannie’s smile widened. ‘We’ll christen him George Joseph then, just like his grandfather, but call him Joe. And yes, we’ll call Grace’s boy, Samuel, after old man
Hayes-Gorton.’ She laughed, her green eyes glinting with mischief. ‘You never know, he might inherit a fortune.’

Now Nell laughed too. ‘I shouldna hold your breath, hen. That’ll no’ happen as long as there’s fish in the sea.’

So, on Tom’s next time ashore the two little boys were christened in the church where Jeannie and Tom had been married and this time, Jeannie was relieved to see, Robert Hayes-Gorton did
not put in an appearance.

Robert was restless and he knew why. He was aware that at this very moment his nephew and Jeannie’s son were being christened and he was finding it difficult to resist
the urge to go to the church.

Instead, he went in search of his wife. ‘Louise, are you busy?’

Considering she was lying on a sofa, a box of chocolates at her elbow and a book lying open on her knee, it was a silly question, but he had learnt not to presume. Amused, he watched her glance
up at him with a mixed expression of coyness and suspicion. ‘That depends,’ she said archly. She, too, had learnt not to be too hasty with her replies. Whatever it was he wanted, it
might of course be something distasteful to Louise, but on the other hand, her husband was capable of nice surprises now and again. Robert hid his smile, realizing that his wife had learnt
caution.

‘My dear, I’d like to take you for a drive. I have something I’d like to show you. Something I’d like your opinion about.’

‘Really?’ At once, Louise’s interest was aroused. She flung aside her book and swung her shapely legs to the floor. ‘Is it something nice?’

‘I’m hoping you’ll think so,’ he replied mysteriously.

‘Oh, you tease.’ Louise pecked him on the cheek before running from the room. ‘I’ll just get my coat.’

Half an hour later when Louise had not only ‘got her coat’ but had renewed her lipstick, powdered her face and changed her dress three times before she found one that suited an
outing in the motor car, they were driving from the Hathersage mansion towards the town.

‘Are we going shopping?’ Louise leant against his shoulder and twisted her head to look up at him.

‘Sort of,’ he laughed, ‘but not quite the sort of shopping you mean.’

Louise pouted prettily, but for once it was deliberate pretence. She was still intrigued.

Just before they reached the outskirts of the town, Robert turned to the left down a country road for a distance of about half a mile and drew to a halt outside a square Georgian house set in an
acre of gardens bordered by trees. It was nowhere near the proportions of the Hathersage home but it was an elegant country house.

‘Now,’ Robert said, leaning forward, his arms resting on the driving wheel. ‘What do you think to that?’

‘It’s nice, but . . .’ Louise looked at him and her eyes widened. ‘Oh! For us, you mean?’

‘Well, only if you like it?’

‘But we’re all right at home, aren’t we?’

He thought he detected a little note of fear in her voice, as if she were afraid to leave the protection of her parents’ home. As if, once in their own home, she was afraid of what her
husband might demand of her.

Carefully, Robert took her hand in his. ‘Louise, my dear, I know certain aspects of being married are – well – difficult for you.’

‘Robert, please, I . . .’ She made to pull her hand away but he held it firmly.

‘No, my dear, listen to me, please, because we need to talk about this.’

Reluctantly, she left her hand in his, but her pout was no longer a teasing pretence.

Quietly, as if talking to a child, he said, ‘And I do understand, really I do. It’s – not altogether your fault. But we are married and even if – if, well, we can’t
be man and wife in that way, there’s no reason why we can’t have a home of our own. Louise, we can be friends with each other, can’t we?’

Her blue eyes were large in her perfect doll’s face. ‘You mean, you mean you’re not going to ask me to . . .? You know?’

He looked down at her, their faces, for a moment, close together. ‘My dear, I’d like nothing better than for us to be man and wife in every sense, but I am not going to force myself
on you. I – I’m not that kind of man.’ As he spoke the words he blotted out the shameful memory and yet he knew he spoke the truth, for that dreadful night had not been of his
making.

He was startled to see tears well in Louise’s eyes. ‘Oh Robert, you are perfectly sweet and you make me feel so awful.’

Now he felt pity for her overriding his own disappointment. He patted her hand tenderly. ‘I don’t want you to feel awful. I just want us both to make the best out of this marriage
that we find ourselves in.’

She nodded and with a sudden flash of wisdom that he had never before credited her with, Louise said, ‘Yes, we were rather pushed into it, weren’t we? I – I am sorry if you
feel, well, let down. I – I am very fond of you, Robert.’

His only answer was to lay his lips gently against her forehead, trying to blot out thoughts of a red-haired girl with sparkling green eyes. Then, forcing gaiety, he said, ‘I’ve got
the key to the house. Shall we go inside and take a look?’

Like an excited child, Louise clapped her hands. ‘Oh yes.’

Half an hour later, when they had gone from room to room, Louise running ahead, exclaiming each time, ‘Oh yes, yes. Oh Robert, it could be such a beautiful house. It needs redecorating
throughout, but it’s got such promise. Just look at these lovely French windows leading out on to the terrace. What summer parties we could have out there. Oh darling, it’s perfect. Do
let’s buy it. Daddy will help us, I know he will.’

Robert smiled. ‘There’s no need, my dear. On my twenty-first birthday, I inherited a legacy from my maternal grandfather. It was divided equally between the three of us and my share
should be enough to buy this house and for you to be able to have it decorated and refurbished just as you wish.’

Louise stood perfectly still for a moment. ‘Oh Robert,’ she whispered, ‘you do spoil me. I – I don’t deserve it.’ She came towards him and put the flat of her
palms on his chest. Looking up into his eyes, she stood on tiptoe and gently kissed his mouth. ‘I’ll try to be a – a good wife to you, Robert. Truly I will.’

Automatically, he returned her kiss gently, but he felt no stirrings of passion. All he could think of was the little christening party that would be coming out of the church about now.

‘Weren’t they good? No’ a peep out of either of them all the time.’ Back in the terraced house, Nell was bustling about her kitchen more like her old
self than at any time since the death of her husband.