The Fisher Lass (7 page)

‘Only if I think you’re – well – in danger of getting yoursel’ into trouble.’

‘No, no, it’s not like that. It’s – it’s only a boy. He’s not from round here. I – I only see him now and again. When . . .’ Again she seemed to
be searching for a credible story. ‘When his boat’s in.’ Now Grace seemed to be warming to her theme. ‘Mam’d like him, if only she’d let me bring him
home.’

‘Mm.’ Jeannie was thoughtful. It was an old problem and one that was hardly likely to change. When girls and boys got to a certain age and thought of themselves as grown up yet their
parents still treated them as children, it could lead to this kind of deceit.

‘You won’t tell me mam?’ Grace begged.

Jeannie sighed heavily. She had the uncomfortable feeling that whilst Grace may not be actually lying to her, she was sure the girl was not telling her the whole truth. ‘I’m not
making any promises, Grace,’ she said. ‘But just you mind what you’re doing.’

Impulsively the girl hugged her new friend. ‘I will, Jeannie. Honest I will.’

‘They’re back. Have you heard?’

The fisher lasses were once again standing at the troughs. Today they were all well wrapped up, for the wind lashed through the docks, rippling the surface of the water and whistling along the
quays. Then it began to rain, soaking the girls, stinging their faces but still they stood there, working with no easing of their speed, stoically trying to ignore the cold.

‘Back?’ Flora said, never lifting her eyes from her flashing blade. ‘Who’s back?’

‘The bride and groom.’

‘Already? I thought you said the other day that they’d gone on honeymoon for a whole month?’

‘So they had, but they’re back. And that’s not all. They’ve gone to bide at the Hathersages’ place and . . .’ Mary paused to achieve the most dramatic effect.
‘And they’ve got separate bedrooms,’ she finished triumphantly.

There was a moment’s silence until Jeannie said, ‘Well, don’t a lot of the upper classes sleep in separate bedrooms?’

The other girl seemed nonplussed for a moment but then said stoutly, ‘Well, you wouldna think newly-weds would want that, would you? Not even in the upper classes. And what about coming
home early from honeymoon then? Besides, I got it from Annie. She works as an upstairs maid there and she ses . . .’

The girl prattled on whilst Jeannie was busy with her own thoughts. She felt sorry for the child-bride. No doubt Robert Hayes-Gorton had forced himself upon her on their wedding night in the
same way that he’d attacked Grace.

Oh yes, she felt very sorry for the poor girl and she hadn’t a moment’s sympathy for him. Not one moment.

‘Come in and close the door.’ It was a command rather than an invitation.

Robert did as he was bade and stood before his father-in-law’s huge desk in his study.

‘Now, young feller, you’d better tell me what’s going on between you and my daughter.’

Robert felt himself blushing uncomfortably, making him feel even more gauche and foolish than he already felt.

‘Well?’ came Hathersage’s bark. ‘I’m waiting.’

‘It’s personal and – and delicate.’

‘Oh, so Francis was right, was he?’

Robert’s head jerked up to see his father-in-law nodding knowingly. ‘Francis? What has he been saying?’

‘When you arrived back from your so-called honeymoon far earlier than expected, your brother guessed that you haven’t – er – consummated the marriage yet, eh? Only
Francis didn’t put it as politely as that.’

I bet he didn’t, Robert thought morosely. He was rapidly beginning to see his elder brother in a very different light recently. If it hadn’t been for Francis, he wouldn’t have
been involved in that disgraceful incident the night before his wedding and now, it seemed, his own brother was not above tittle-tattling to Robert’s new in-laws about what was a private
matter between the newly-weds.

Robert lifted his head, squared his shoulders and faced the man across the desk. ‘Your daughter, Mr Hathersage, is only eighteen and doesn’t seem to have been told what to expect of
married life.’

‘What?’ Now the red-veined face opposite him was growing purple. ‘What are you insinuating?’

Calm now, Robert said, ‘I’m not insinuating anything. She didn’t know anything about the – well – you know what I mean.’

Hathersage let out a grunt of anger. ‘I left all that sort of thing to her mother.’ For a moment he was silent and thoughtful, as if he were thinking back and remembering. Slowly, he
said, ‘Mm, well, it’s not as unusual as you might think, m’boy. You’ll just have to be very patient with her.’ Standing up he added, ‘But I wish you hadn’t
come back so soon. It’s set the servants gossiping. And the separate bedrooms hasn’t helped either, but I’ll have a word with her mother.’ He moved round the desk and patted
Robert on the shoulder with what was intended to be a fatherly gesture but to the young man it had the feel of condescension about it. ‘Yes, yes, that’s the best. I’ll speak to
her mother. It’ll be all right.’

Robert weaved his way amongst the fish troughs ignoring the raucous shouts from the girls until he found himself standing opposite a tall, slim girl with her bright red hair
tied back. Her hands never slowed in their movements, yet he was aware of her glances. He could not fail to see the anger and resentment in the flash of those green eyes that told him she knew
exactly who he was and what he had done.

Surely this couldn’t be the girl he had supposedly attacked? She looked too feisty, too spirited to have . . . And then suddenly he knew. She was the one who had flown to the other’s
rescue. This was the girl who had shouted at him and hauled him away.

Ever since the day of his wedding he had promised himself to come down to the docks to seek her out. But now, standing before her, Robert’s mouth was suddenly parched. He ran his tongue
around his lips and when he tried to speak his voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. ‘Excuse me. Might I – er – have a word with you in private?’

‘I canna leave me work,’ was her curt reply.

Robert was immediately aware that close by all the chatter and noise had ceased and though the work never slowed, he knew that all who could overhear were listening hard.

He swallowed and tried again. ‘I would like to speak to you. Could I meet you somewhere when you finish work?’

‘Meet me? Meet me?’ Suddenly the sharp blade of the knife she was wielding with such effect on the fish, was being held threateningly only inches from his face. ‘Like to meet
me in a dark alley, would you?’

He stepped back to find himself up against one of the girl packers at the next trough.

‘Mind where yer treadin’, mister.’

There was laughter all round. ‘Aye, he wants to mind where he’s treadin’ all right.’

His face reddening, Robert turned and blundered away, the sound of their suggestive taunts following him.

‘I’ll meet you round the back, mister, if she won’t.’

‘Fancied a bit of rough, did you?’

Jeannie bent her head over her work, thrusting the blade into the fish with a vicious delight. How she would like to have slashed at his face; marred those godlike good looks, that smooth,
boyish skin.

Then suddenly a wave of shame swept through her. She had always known she had a quick temper, but until this moment she had never experienced such a passionate hatred for anyone. The violence of
her feelings shocked her.

She paused a moment and glanced up to watch him hurrying away, his shoulders hunched.

She felt Flora’s elbow dig her in the ribs. ‘That the one who attacked Grace Lawrence, then?’

Jeannie turned wide eyes on her team-mate. ‘How on earth . . .?’

The girl laughed. ‘Och, news travels fast on the fish dock, Jeannie. You canna keep a secret round here for long.’

Jeannie said nothing until Flora prompted again, ‘Well, was it him?’

In a quiet, flat tone, Jeannie answered. ‘Aye.’

Flora nodded towards the corner of the building around which Robert had disappeared from their sight. ‘You should have given him a chance to explain, maybe to apologize even. He’s
only a wee laddie, Jeannie. You should have given him a chance.’

‘Him and his friends weren’t giving poor Grace “a chance”,’ Jeannie retorted bitterly. Yet she was honest enough to admit that now she had seen him close to and in
daylight, he was much younger than she had expected.

‘Aye well,’ Flora was saying, her tone philosophical. ‘From what I heard, if Grace Lawrence goes visiting Aggie Turnbull’s, then she can expect all she gets.’

‘You two goin’ to gossip all day,’ came the truculent voice of their packer from behind them. ‘I’m waiting.’

Jeannie guessed that Mary had seen what had happened and overheard every word, had learned the truth about the young man she had so admired from a distance. And Mary didn’t like it.

‘Sorry,’ Jeannie said at once and again her knife blade flashed, but this time only upon the fish.

He was waiting in the shadows on the corner of Baldock Street when Jeannie and Grace made their way home.

‘Excuse me . . .’ When he stepped out in front of them, both girls jumped and Grace gave a little scream.

He glanced briefly at Jeannie but now it was upon Grace that his gaze rested.

‘Please . . .’ He put out his hand to catch hold of her arm and Grace screamed again, the sound echoing along the street.

‘Don’t you dare to even touch her,’ Jeannie hissed and stepped between them.

‘Please, you’ve got it all wrong. I’ve come to apologize – to explain—’

‘What is there to explain, mister? You attacked an innocent young lass. A gang of you. What chance had she got, eh?’

Even in the fading light, she could see that he turned white. ‘I was drunk. I can’t even remember clearly what happened. I would never – ever – have done such a thing in
my – my right mind.’ He swallowed painfully and again he looked directly at Grace. ‘Did – did I hurt you?’

Mutely, Grace shook her head but fiercely Jeannie said, ‘Only frightened her out of her wits. And who’s to know what might have happened . . .’ She didn’t add ‘if I
hadn’t come along’ for even to her own ears, it would have sounded boastful.

He was putting his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket. ‘Please, let me . . .?’ He opened a leather wallet and extracted a five-pound note and thrust it towards Grace, but
before the girl could even reach out, Jeannie wrenched the piece of paper money from his fingers and tore it into shreds, casting it into the gutter. ‘How dare you? How
dare
you insult
her like that?’

‘I’m sorry. I only wanted—’

‘We ken what you wanted.’ She grabbed Grace’s arm now and hauled her along the street, calling back over her shoulder, ‘You and your like! Think the fisher lasses are
good for only one thing.’

Robert stood staring after them whilst, as Jeannie dragged her away, Grace twisted her head round to watch the little pieces of white paper float along the gutter and disappear down a drain.

Jeannie was still seething about the incident when they arrived home but Nell, her fingers still busy braiding a net, seemed to accept the news calmly. In fact, to Jeannie’s annoyance,
Grace’s mother seemed almost to be taking the young man’s part.

‘I canna understand you.’ Jeannie spread her hands, palms upwards, in a gesture of exasperated disbelief. ‘Any of you. Just because he’s the son of the owner of the
ships, you’re going to allow him to get away with what he did to Grace.’

‘He didna do anything to Grace, did he? Not really?’ And as Jeannie opened her mouth to retaliate, Nell held up her hand. ‘Och I ken, lassie, what he – and all the others
– might well have done if you hadna come along when you did.’ For a moment, Nell actually dropped the length of sisal she was holding and moved towards Jeannie. Taking her hands between
her own, Nell said gently, ‘I ken how you feel, hen, and what you’d like to do to those – those . . .’ The word to fit the description of what she felt for them defeated her
and her sentence ended in a sigh. ‘And I feel just the same . . .’ She balled her hand into a fist and smacked her own plump chest. ‘In here. Really I do. But there’s
nothing –
nothing
we can do. It’s best left.’

‘But to come down to the dockside today. To seek her out in front of everyone and offer her money. The final insult. How could he do that?’ Jeannie burst out.

Grace, who had stood nearby quietly listening to every word, spoke up now. ‘He was going to give me five pounds, Mam. A whole five-pound note, but – but Jeannie tore it up under his
nose and threw it into the gutter.’

For a fleeting moment even Nell blinked and glanced from one to the other, a moment’s unguarded hesitation on her features. Five pounds to a fisherman’s family, even a
skipper’s family, was a lot of money. She gave a little sigh and a tiny shrug of her shoulders as if to dismiss it from her mind and then, looking once more directly into Jeannie’s
eyes, she said softly, ‘Have you stopped to think, hen, what courage it must have taken for that young man to come amongst all the lassies on the docks today? They’re the salt of the
earth, all of them, I’ll never say different, but they wouldna have been beyond turning on him if they’d all known the full story. He could easily have found himself rolling in the mud,
his clothes torn from his back. They might even have thrown him into the water. Son of an owner or not, if they’d all done it, there’d have been precious little anyone, including the
police, could have done about it.’

Jeannie, still unforgiving, her mouth a straight hard line, leant a little closer to Nell and said, with quiet deliberation, ‘Aye, an’ if I’d known that this afternoon, Mrs
Lawrence, I’d have led them on mysel’.’

Nell gazed at her for a long moment and then nodded slowly. Her eyes softened as she smiled. ‘Aye, I do believe you would have done, hen. For you’re a brave, feisty girl, and
I’ll thank God every day of my life that you came along at that moment. But you know something, Jeannie lass . . .?’ The older woman patted the hand she still held. ‘You’re
always going to be the one that others lean on. Because you are so strong, you’re always going to be the one they all come to. All your life, lass, you’re going to have to carry the
burdens for those nearest to you.’ For another moment she held Jeannie’s gaze and then she turned away, bustling back to her work. ‘What am I doing standing here blethering on as
if next week’ll do. I’ve this net to finish by the morning and I’ll be up half the night as it is.’