The Harbour Girl (27 page)

Jeannie felt her mother’s presence behind her shoulder and then she heard her speak. Mary had a good vibrant voice when she was roused.

‘Did I hear you threatening my daughter?’ she said in her strongest Scottish accent. ‘Do I have to bring my brothers and my sons and all the fishermen of Scarborough to discuss your grievance? Who ever you are?’

Des Turnby took a step back as if alarmed by this tall red-haired Scotswoman. ‘I’m – I’m not threatening her,’ he stammered. ‘I’m onny telling her that Connie’s mother wants her lass back home where she belongs.’

‘Then you’d better ask Connie’s mother to come here herself,’ Mary declared, ‘and tell her not to send any jug-eared errand lad with her messages.’

Des Turnby backed away. ‘Didn’t mean to frighten you, missis,’ he began, ‘I just—’

‘Frighten us!’ Mary said in a sinister whisper. ‘It’ll take more than a sprat like you to frighten the Marshall clan. Now be off with you!’

Jeannie’s heart was pounding when they went inside, but then she began to giggle. ‘You were magnificent, Ma. But what whoppers you told. Da wasn’t a Scotsman; there’s no Marshall clan. And you were an Anderson!’

‘There
is
a Marshall clan,’ her mother said. ‘A famous one that’s been around for hundreds of years. The first known one was reputedly a gypsy – a boxer and a bandit – so if that ruffian starts asking about the Marshalls he’ll soon find himself bogged down in clan warfare. And,’ she grinned, ‘a white lie now and again is quite acceptable. So, Jeannie, don’t give the wee bairn hiccups, but you’d better tell me what all that was about.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

OVER ANOTHER POT of tea and a slice of bread and potted meat, Jeannie told her mother about Connie. She’d poured Nan a cup but she seemed to be having trouble drinking it, lifting the cup awkwardly and not quite hitting the target of her mouth. She mumbled something and Jeannie asked her to repeat what she’d said as she hadn’t quite caught it, but Nan seemed not to hear her.

Jeannie bit on her lip anxiously. ‘I don’t think she’s well, Ma. She’s acting very strangely, and she told me earlier that she had a headache.’

‘Is she usually fit?’ Mary asked. ‘I noticed she was walking with difficulty.’ She bent towards Nan. ‘Mrs Carr! Are you feeling unwell?’

Nan gazed at her, and it was as if she couldn’t form any words, but Jeannie thought she was trying to say
Fred
. Or perhaps it was bed.

‘I think she’s had some sort of apoplexy,’ Mary said in a low voice.

Jeannie gasped. ‘I don’t know what that is. What can I do?’

‘Make her comfortable.’ Mary looked round the room. ‘A pillow, if you’ve got one, and a blanket … and have you got a stool she can put her feet on?’

Jeannie scurried to do her mother’s bidding, and then took a spoon and gently dribbled some tea into Nan’s mouth. Nan put out her tongue and licked her lips and Jeannie gave her a drop more. ‘That’s better, isn’t it, Nan?’ she said. ‘Nothing like a cup of tea.’ But her words were shaky as she considered what might happen next.

‘There’ll be no money for a doctor, I suppose?’ her mother asked, and when Jeannie shook her head said hesitantly, ‘If you can’t manage … I expect there’ll be a workhouse infirmary?’

‘I don’t know,’ Jeannie said. ‘Harry wouldn’t like that.’ She wondered whom she could turn to for help. ‘I’ll ask Connie if she knows who I can ask.’ She suddenly thought of Mrs Norman, who had delivered Jack; she seemed to be a person who would know about such places.

‘When Connie comes back from work I’ll ask her to fetch somebody. Oh, this is no good!’ she exclaimed. ‘I feel so helpless not being able to go out.’

Her mother nodded. ‘But you must be careful not to overtire yourself, Jeannie. I know you’re young and fit, but …’ Mary had gone back to work at the harbour within two weeks of having Tom. She had wrapped the baby warmly in blankets and placed him by her side in a basket. Money had been short and her husband was away, just as Harry was now. ‘Be careful,’ she repeated, ‘but make arrangements for the baptism and churching straight away. No use waiting for Harry. He’ll understand, I’m sure.’

He’ll be more concerned about Nan than about missing the christening, Jeannie thought. And Ma’s right – I can’t wait for him for I don’t know how long he’ll be away.

Mary stayed as late as she dared, but she was fearful of missing her train. ‘I’ve to be at work in the morning,’ she said. ‘I’ve taken time off today and what a good thing I did, but I’ll have to catch up with the nets tomorrow.’

When she stood up to leave she pressed a shilling into Jeannie’s hand and a silver threepenny bit into Jack’s tiny fist. She kissed his cheek and whispered, ‘I wish it were a silver florin, bonny bairn, but those are hard to come by.’

‘It’ll bring him luck, Ma. I’ll keep it safe,’ Jeannie said, swallowing a lump in her throat at her mother’s departure, but also knowing that the welcome shilling would buy them some supper.

Connie was late coming in but she brought with her a parcel of fish. ‘I worked late to get in ’foreman’s good books,’ she said, ‘and he gave me all this cod. Shall I peel some taties to go with it?’ She looked at Nan sitting wrapped in the blanket. ‘What’s up?’ she asked in a lowered voice. ‘Is she badly?’

‘Badly? She’s not well, if that’s what you mean. My ma’s been today and she thinks she’s had some kind of apoplexy.’

‘Your ma’s been! From Scarborough?’ Connie’s mouth opened in astonishment. ‘Oh! Were you glad to see her? What’s an apoplexy?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Jeannie confessed. ‘A sort of fit, or something that goes wrong with your heart or brain, I think. She can’t talk, anyway. Connie – could you fetch Mrs Norman to take a look at her? Maybe she’ll know what’s wrong.’

‘Yeh.’ Connie gathered up her shawl from where she’d dropped it on the back of a chair. ‘I’ll go now. I thought she was acting funny ’other day and she seemed to be walking lopsided.’

‘We’ll soon have you put right, Nan,’ Jeannie said more cheerfully than she felt. ‘Mrs Norman will know what’s happened.’ But Nan just sat and stared into the fire and didn’t answer.

Mrs Norman didn’t know, but agreed with what Jeannie’s mother had said, that Nan might have suffered an apoplexy. ‘They used to bleed people for that,’ she told her. ‘I think some doctors still do. Can you afford a doctor?’

‘What would they charge?’ Jeannie asked her. ‘I’ve only got about a shilling.’

‘More’n that,’ Mrs Norman said wryly. ‘If I were you I’d wait till ’morning and see how she is. I’ve got some aspirin you can give her. Finest medicine you can tek, I allus say, ’cept for laudanum, but I don’t suppose you’ve got any of that, have you?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Jeannie admitted. She felt like a stranger in the house. She didn’t know where Nan kept items like aspirin or bandages, or whether indeed she did. Jeannie’s mother had always kept a box with medication and scissors, liniment for chesty coughs and ointment for sore elbows and knees when she and Tom were children; every spring she mixed up a concoction of flowers of sulphur and treacle which they had to submit to.

‘We’ll try the aspirin, Mrs Norman,’ she said. ‘Thank you. If she’s no better in a few days, is there a hospital that would take her?’

Mrs Norman took a deep breath. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Not without a doctor’s say-so. Don’t worry about her now. She’ll be all right, I expect. She’s a tough old lass. Aren’t you, Nan?’ She bent down and shouted in Nan’s ear. ‘Nowt much wrong wi’ you, is there?’

Nan gazed at her from blank eyes and lolled to one side of the chair. ‘Mm.’ Mrs Norman screwed up her mouth. ‘I’ll come again in ’morning, and if she’s no better you’ll have to send for ’doctor an’ scrape up as much money as you can.’

After she had left, Jeannie and Connie debated how they’d get the old lady upstairs to bed. ‘We’ll never manage her up those stairs,’ Connie said. ‘I think she should sleep down here in ’chair. I’ll keep an eye on her during ’night.’

‘Will you, Connie?’ Jeannie said gratefully. ‘It would be for the best, I think, and if we got her up we’d never get her down again. She’ll rest easy enough in the chair by the fire.’

It was late by the time Jeannie had cooked the fish and potatoes, and although she tried to persuade Nan to eat she wouldn’t open her mouth except for sips of water. Jeannie made her as comfortable as possible and Connie built up the fire, and when at last Jeannie climbed the stairs holding Jack in her arms she felt quite exhausted and rather tearful.

‘I wish your da were here,’ she whispered to the nuzzling baby as she sat in bed and he searched for her breast. ‘He wouldn’t be able to do any more than we’ve done, but he’d take the responsibility.’ A tear trickled down her cheek. ‘I’m not ready for being grown up yet, even though I love you. I don’t want to run a household, which is what I’ll have to do if Nan is ill. I want my ma.’

Mrs Norman didn’t come until after eleven o’clock the next day and Jeannie pottered about the house as she waited for her. Nan was lying quite still and again would only take a sip of water, which Jeannie dribbled into her mouth.

‘I’ll pop to ’doctor’s on ’way home,’ Mrs Norman said. ‘There’s nowt more we can do.’

‘Mrs Norman,’ Jeannie said desperately. ‘I can’t go out because I haven’t been churched and Jack hasn’t been christened; do you think that the parson would call here?’

‘Aye, he might.’ The midwife pondered. ‘Some folk are very particular about it. Tell you what. Why don’t you pop out to church now and I’ll keep an eye on Nan and on ’bairn? Put a shawl over your head and nobody’ll know you. You’ll be back in ten minutes and nobody any ’wiser. You can have ’bairn christened at some other time, cos you’ll have to arrange for godparents.’

‘I’ve asked Connie.’

‘You’ll need a man for him as well.’

Jeannie was glad to escape the house and she knew that Jack would be safe in Mrs Norman’s care. She wrapped her shawl over the top of her head and kept it low, and relished the freedom of being outdoors again.

As Mrs Norman said, it didn’t take ten minutes for the blessing. The parson insisted that she should bring the child to be baptized the following Sunday; she explained that there was some difficulty at home but said she would try. She heaved a sigh, but at least she could walk back to Walcott Street with her head up without risking offence.

Someone called her name and she looked round, surprised as always that anyone should know her. It was Mike Gardiner, smiling and waving, and she felt a surge of friendship towards him.

‘Hello,’ she called back. ‘Happy New Year.’

‘And to you, Jeannie.’ He took her hand and shook it. ‘And congratulations. I heard that you’ve a son. Are you well?’

‘Yes, I’m very well, thank you, but Nan isn’t. Harry’s away, and I don’t know whether I should send for a doctor. Nan’s not talking or eating and just sitting in a chair. Mrs Norman is with her now and looking after the bairn. I’ve been to be churched,’ she added, ‘so that I can go out and do the shopping and – and everything.’

He frowned, a crease appearing above his nose. ‘Is no one else at home with you?’

‘Connie Turnby’s been staying,’ she began, and saw his eyebrows shoot up. ‘She – she needed a refuge,’ she faltered, dropping her voice.

‘Ah!’ Mike nodded. ‘’Word out on ’road is that Des Turnby has been warned to stay away from her.’

Jeannie put her hand to her mouth. Had Des Turnby exaggerated her mother’s warning?

‘What?’ Mike said.

Jeannie shook her head and tried not to smile. ‘Nothing. But I must tell Connie that she can stop looking over her shoulder.’

Mike surveyed her for a moment. ‘Is Mrs Norman there now, did you say?’ Jeannie said she was. ‘Then shall I come back with you? I might be able to help. Fetch ’doctor or do summat anyway. It’ll not be easy for you trailing about wi’ a new bairn. And you must be careful of yourself.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ she said in relief. She was sure he’d be able to make the right decision over Nan; he’d known her for a long time. A lot longer than she had.

He walked by her side towards Walcott Street, and it was a comfort to have a conversation with someone. He knew that Harry had gone on the trawlers and thought it good for him to be with a bigger company than his and his son’s.

‘Harry will be fine once he’s settled down into regular work,’ he told her. ‘And especially now he’s got a son. It’ll give him ’incentive to do well.’

Jeannie thought that everybody knew more about Harry than she did. He’d been part of this community all his life. Mike had known his father and probably his mother too, as he would have known Connie’s and all of her family. She felt like an outsider. I’m the stranger here and it’s going to take years and years before I’m one of them. Is this what it was like for people coming to Scarborough? she wondered. Did we make them welcome?

What’s the matter with me? she chastised herself. I’m already part of the community because I’m Harry’s wife. Nan has accepted me, so have Connie and Mrs Norman, and Mike Gardiner is walking beside me to find out if he can help. She suddenly felt lighter in spirit and smiled up at Mike.

‘I think you’re right about Harry,’ she said. ‘He just needed some encouragement and the offer of work, and you did that for him.’

But Mike didn’t answer. They’d turned into Walcott Street and he was looking towards the house, where Mrs Norman was standing with a bundle in her arms. He quickened his steps. ‘I’ll hurry on,’ he said. ‘Don’t you rush.’