The Harbour Girl (30 page)

‘Want some bread, missis?’ The stallholder handed her a thick slice to dip into the soup.

They sat on the harbour wall as they ate and Mary’s nose began to run as the heat percolated through her.

‘Oh, that’s good.’ She sniffed. ‘It’s bitter cold this morning. But I’m glad to see you – I was meaning to catch you. I’ve had a letter from Jeannie.’ She pressed her gloved hand to her nose. ‘Harry’s grandmother has died and Jeannie’s had to move house. She said she couldn’t afford the rent and has gone to something smaller.’

‘She’s got a good head on her shoulders has Jeannie,’ Josh remarked. ‘She’ll manage all right, even though I know you worry about her.’

‘She has, but I do,’ Mary agreed. ‘She’s had a friend staying with her for company while Harry’s been away, though she says he’s home now. He’s working with a trawler company so the work is more regular. But it’ll mean he’s away for much longer at a time, won’t it?’

‘Yes.’ Josh looked thoughtful. ‘The steam trawlers are the ones which, in my opinion – and the owners can deny it all they like – are depleting the North Sea stocks. But they can go further afield now – they’ve got massive hauling gear and high pressure boilers, unlike the smacks. And it’s just as well, because they’ve been banned from some areas, like the Moray Firth.’

‘Which means what?’ Mary asked. ‘Where will they fish?’

‘Faroes. Ireland. Norway. As far as Iceland.’

‘Like the old whaling ships used to,’ she murmured.

‘Yes, but they relied only on sail,’ he said. ‘Now they don’t need to. And they can stay away for weeks on end.’

He took the empty bowls back to the stallholder. ‘Shall we walk for five minutes before you go back?’ He teased his beard as he spoke, and Mary thought there was something he wanted to discuss. They walked towards the lighthouse and then turned before he said, ‘Ethan is thinking of buying shares in a paddle steamer.’

She turned to look at him. ‘But some of the Scarborough companies have failed. Why would he do that?’

Josh sighed. He was clearly uncertain about it. ‘He thinks it’s the only way to progress from a smack, and he can pick one up at a reasonable price because of the companies that have folded. He’s done quite well up to now. He had his smack converted to auxiliary power, as you know; if he buys a paddle steamer, then in a few years he says he’ll move on to a bigger horsepower.’

‘I thought the paddles were being accused of exhausting the local fishing?’

He nodded. ‘So they are. But Ethan says that he’ll fish away from home waters.’ He shrugged. ‘He’s a single man. There’s no reason for him to stay around Scarborough. He can go to the Irish Sea and drop his catch at Milford Haven. He doesn’t have to come back here.’ He sighed again. ‘What a business to be in, eh! You lose one son to the sea, and then—’

‘You won’t lose him. And you’ve still got Stephen,’ Mary interrupted.

‘For how long?’ Josh muttered. ‘Stephen’s nine. Already he’s saying he wants to be a fisherman like Ethan, and Ethan says he’ll teach him; take him on as an apprentice, just as I did with him and Mark.’

Gently she put her hand on his arm. ‘It’s what we have to do, Josh,’ she said softly. ‘It’s our way of life, and it isn’t as if you won’t see Ethan ever again. He’ll still come back to Scarborough.’ She frowned a little. ‘What happened to the girl he was walking out with – Pamela …’

‘Nothing.’ His lips turned down. ‘I think she gave up on him. She obviously realized that there’d be no wedding bells.’

They continued walking back towards the fish wharves. The breeze was freshening; dark clouds scudded across the sky. Mary shivered. ‘I hope they’ve kept the fire alight.’

‘I’ll fetch some wood,’ he said. ‘But going back to Ethan – he told me that he wouldn’t be selling his first smack, but only the half share in the other one.’

‘Sentimental, is he?’ Mary smiled. ‘So where will he get the money for the paddle shares? A loan?’

‘He’s having a meeting with some of the other smack owners to find out if they’re interested in setting up a company. Then they’d all put in a share. And he asked me if I’d like to be involved.’

Mary took in a breath. ‘Not to go to sea, Josh? Surely not!’

He grinned. ‘I’m not too old.’

‘No. No, you’re not. But you said—’ She swallowed. ‘You said he’d fish away from home.’

He grinned again, but kept his eyes on her face. ‘And would you miss me if I weren’t here?’

She tilted her head and returned his gaze. ‘I might,’ she bantered. ‘But I was thinking more of Stephen and your daughters, and the fact that Susan is going to be married soon. Could you go away and leave them?’

He smiled. ‘It won’t happen yet; and you know that I couldn’t. Scarborough is where I belong.’ He took her cold hand in his and gently pressed it. ‘Everyone I care about is here.’

Mary lowered her eyes and eased her hand from his. ‘You still make a living, don’t you?’

‘Of sorts,’ he said. ‘And if Ethan kept the
Scarborough Girl
here then I’d use her and do some local fishing; enough to keep the wolf from the door. There’ll be fewer mouths to feed by then anyway.’ He continued to gaze down at her, his lips slightly parted as if considering, or waiting for her to make a comment or observation.

‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘Soon we shall have only ourselves to think about – freedom!’ She gave a shaky laugh as she thought of Tom leaving when he married. ‘If that’s what it is! I must go,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I must get finished. It gets dark so early.’

What? she wondered. Something else? Some unspoken question? A small frown appeared above her nose. Usually she could read Josh, but not this time. There was a hesitancy about him, an uncertainty, when he was usually so positive. Was he worried about Ethan and his possible departure? But no, this hadn’t seemed like worry over his son; it was something to do with her. It was as if he was trying to gauge her opinion, her reaction to something he wanted to tell her. Some secret, perhaps? But no, she was fairly certain she knew all there was to know about Josh; he was so open and sincere. He wasn’t taciturn, not with her. There was no mystery, of that she was certain; so what was it?

A sudden excited shout and squeal from the women braiders made her look up. Some of the younger women were dancing around another, whirling her about in their midst. Mary smiled. Alice! She had been walking out with a fisherman. He must have asked for her hand and the others had found out.

Asked
for. Not tell. Josh was not trying to tell her anything. He was plucking up courage to ask her something. Surely not! She slowed her steps as she considered. He wouldn’t. Why now? Because their children had flown the nest? But he knew how she valued her independence, her ability to cope with life on her own – and she would be completely alone when Tom married. She walked back to her stand and asked her neighbour, ‘What’s happening?’

‘Alice’s beau has asked for her at last,’ Lou said. ‘They’re to be married in the spring, God bless ’em.’ She sighed. ‘I wish them luck, for they’ll need it in these hard times.’

‘Time and life, they’re always hard,’ Mary answered. ‘No matter when.’ She lapsed into her own thoughts, while her fingers continued knotting and mending. She had done this work for so long that it was second nature to her and her mind could wander, but several times she had to undo what she had worked and redo it as she considered the implications of what she might do if her reasoning was correct.

She watched Alice, flushed and trying to hide her delight. Mary smiled and waved at her, nodding her approval. Young bliss, she thought. There’s nothing to beat it, but is it the same a second time around? She gave herself a mental shake. It couldn’t possibly be. Yet it must be comforting to have someone sharing your fire, sitting across from you at table and – she paused in her thinking – to feel the contentment of a warm and loving body next to yours.

Was that what her mother had missed after the death of Mary’s father? Was that why she chose to marry Andrew, to spend what was left of her life in companionship rather than alone? And do I miss that companionship too, and am I unwilling to admit it, even to myself?

‘I’m packing in now,’ she said after another hour. ‘I’m frozen. I’m going home to light my fire and thaw out my old bones.’

‘Not so old,’ Lou said. ‘Not as old as me.’ She looked up as Mary stood over her. ‘You’re a fine-looking woman, Mary. You should find a good man to warm your bones, never mind lighting a coal fire.’

Mary laughed. ‘Find one for me then, Lou,’ she jested. ‘And make him rich and handsome.’

‘Aye, I’ll try.’ Lou grinned. ‘But if I do I’ll keep him for myself.’

Mary walked towards home, but then on impulse continued walking, past her cottage, past her mother-in-law’s house and up towards the castle. She was warmer now and slightly out of breath when she reached the top of Castle Road, but she didn’t go through the castle entrance. Instead she leaned against the churchyard wall and looked down over the graveyard of the ancient St Mary’s church: the church where she and Jack were married.

This would always be her favourite view of Scarborough. Beyond the church, the town and harbour and ships turning into it spread out before her; the sea, silent from up here, dashed frolicking waves against the harbour walls, whilst the dome-topped lighthouse stood out white and stark and reassuring as darkness descended, obliterating the last faint streaks of day. Yellow lamps glowed in house windows, and along the harbour side stallholders lit up their counters to catch any late customers before closing for the night.

‘What should I do, Jack?’ she breathed. ‘Just supposing I should be asked? I might be barking up the wrong tree, of course, but in case I’m not, what should I do?’

She leaned her elbows on the wall, and propping her chin in her hands peered into the night. I’ve had a good marriage, she thought, even though a short one. I’ve got two bonny bairns and don’t need more, though I’m not too old to have another. She sighed. I think I’d say no. Faithful to you for ever.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

JEANNIE PUT MONEY aside for the rent and then, wrapping up as warm as she could, she tucked Jack under her shawl and went out shopping. It was raining hard and she became very wet; she bought a cheap cut of beef, begged a lump of suet from the butcher, and bought onions, potatoes and carrots. I’ll make a stew and dumplings, she thought. It’s nourishing and will smell good when Harry opens the door.

He didn’t arrive home until after six o’clock and was well oiled by drink. Connie came in a few minutes later. She glanced at Harry and then at Jeannie as if assessing their mood, but didn’t speak. She looked down at Jack sleeping soundly in his drawer, and bent to pick him up.

‘Oh, Connie,’ Jeannie complained. ‘He’s only just gone off to sleep!’

‘He’s still asleep,’ Connie murmured, kissing his warm cheek. ‘Isn’t he ’best bairn ever, Harry?’ Her voice was deferential, yet possessive.

Harry sat down and stretched his legs, making it awkward for Jeannie to reach the pan from the fire. ‘Dunno,’ he muttered. ‘Don’t know any others.’

‘Mebbe we could get him christened now that Harry’s home, Jeannie,’ Connie suggested.

‘Yes,’ Jeannie replied vaguely, wondering about the
we
. ‘Could you put him down, Connie? I want to dish up and there’s barely any room.’

Harry shifted his legs. ‘Shouldn’t have moved house then, should you?’

Connie put Jack back, tucked him up, and then drawing in a breath said sulkily, ‘Well, if you want me to move out …’

The remark, Jeannie thought, was aimed at her. She turned from the fire with a cloth in her hand. ‘I never said that. I never meant that.’

‘There’s no need for you to move, Connie,’ Harry grunted. ‘You’re fine here with us, never mind what anybody else says.’

Jeannie stared, first at Harry and then at Connie. ‘I never said you should move! I’ve told you how much I appreciate your being here.’

Connie shrugged and sat down at the table. ‘Well, let me know if you change your mind.’

Jeannie shook her head in disbelief. Why were they taking things the wrong way? Had she ever implied that she didn’t want Connie here once Harry was at home? Surely she hadn’t. In fact she preferred her being here, in the hope that Harry would be more agreeable with other company in the house.

They ate mostly in silence and Harry obviously had difficulty in keeping awake. His eyes were constantly closing and once or twice he swayed, abruptly rousing himself before crashing on to the table.

He hiccuped when he’d finished. ‘I’m beat,’ he slurred. ‘Where’s ’bedroom?’

‘Upstairs,’ Jeannie declared flatly. ‘Usual place.’

‘How many beds have we got?’ He stood unsteadily, holding on to the chair.

‘Two,’ Jeannie told him. ‘They’re not as big as at the other house. Connie’s room is very small. We could hardly get the bed in.’

He frowned. ‘How did you get ’beds upstairs?’

‘Oh, we managed,’ Connie interrupted. ‘We’re quite strong, aren’t we, Jeannie? And we borrowed a hoss and cart to get ’furniture here.’

Harry slowly nodded his head. ‘Right. All right. I’m off up. Don’t be long, Jeannie.’

Jeannie bit on her lip. ‘No. I won’t be. G’night.’