The Harbour Girl (35 page)

Mike confided to her that he and Aaron were joining in with some other fishermen to form a company. ‘It’ll be make or break,’ he told her.

She wondered if Harry knew about it and if there would be any work for him, but when she asked, Mike said not.

‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it, Jeannie,’ he said, and she wondered why he had told her if it was such a secret. ‘And Harry’s better off with ’Humber Steam Company. It’s very stable and there’s no knowing if ours will be. We’re all tekkin’ a chance.’

‘How many of you?’ she asked.

‘Six so far, unless we can get a couple more.’

Jeannie smiled. ‘I’d join you if I had some capital, Mike, but I’ve barely enough even for the essentials.’

He put his head to one side. ‘Harry’s in regular work, isn’t he? Still bringing his wages home?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she lied, ‘but it doesn’t seem to go far.’

In truth Harry always seemed to be short when he came home. He tipped out his pockets but always gathered some of it back and went off to meet his mates. There were occasions when he didn’t return until the following day, and he never said where he’d been.

She had confronted him, telling him she’d been worried and had hardly slept, knowing that the door was open. He’d got over that issue by having another key cut, telling her that she could now lock the door and go to bed without being anxious that someone would break in.

‘That’s not the point, Harry,’ she said imploringly. ‘Why don’t you come home?’

‘I telled you afore,’ he blustered. ‘I don’t want you to get upset if I don’t allus come home of a night.’

‘But I am upset!’ she wept. ‘Where do you go when you don’t come home?’

He shook his head, and then said, ‘Don’t cry. I don’t want you to cry, Jeannie. It’s my fault, I know, but that’s ’way it is.’

She held back a sob. ‘You can’t leave me alone, Harry. How will I live? How will I know when you’ll be here and when you won’t? What if I hear that your ship is in and you haven’t been home?’

He leaned on the table, putting his head in his hands. ‘I’d come home, Jeannie,’ he said in a muffled voice. ‘Except that it isn’t home any more. Home was where Nan was. She allus looked out for me.’

She put her hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ll look out for you, Harry. Give me a chance and we’ll have a good life together. But I can’t do it alone,’ she whispered, ‘and I’m alone most of the time now that Connie’s gone.’

He sniffled and rubbed his nose. ‘You’ve got ’bairn for company,’ he said.

‘He can’t talk, Harry. There’s no conversation!’ She was suddenly struck by an idea. ‘You don’t like this house, do you? Well, neither do I. Shall I look for somewhere else? Perhaps a room in a shared house. It would be less rent and I’d have company when you were away. Would you agree to that?’

He breathed heavily as if he’d been running. ‘Aye, mebbe. You mean summat like Connie’s got?’

Jeannie paused and swallowed. She hadn’t seen Connie’s room. Harry, as if he was suddenly aware of what he had said, added, ‘I met her out on ’road. She said she’d got a nice room.’

‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘One like that. But how would you find me if I moved?’

He considered. ‘Tell Mrs Norman,’ he said, ‘and she can tell Billy. I’ll see him at ’Wassand.’

After he’d sailed she made it her priority to look for somewhere else to live. She would be glad to get away from this run-down street and derelict housing. On her wanderings one day she called on Mrs Norman, who invited her in. Over a cup of tea, Jeannie told her about her search.

‘I don’t like the area, Mrs Norman,’ she said. ‘I never see anybody. People round there don’t seem to go out much. I’d like to be among people, so I can get to know them.’

Mrs Norman nodded. ‘Well, I did wonder,’ she said. ‘But I knew you wanted summat smaller and less rent so I thought it would fit ’bill. And then, Connie was stopping wi’ you.’ She eyed Jeannie. ‘But not your sort o’ place, is it?’

‘No.’ Jeannie had a catch in her voice. ‘Mrs Norman, if I found somewhere, could I ask you a favour?’

‘Aye, you can ask.’

‘It’s just that I need to work. There doesn’t seem to be a need for braiders. The fishermen and their wives do it. Mike Gardiner and Charlie bring me their nets sometimes, but it’s not enough, so I’d get a job at a smoke house, or filleting fish, if I didn’t have Jack. I wonder, would you consider looking after him if I got a part-time job? I’d pay, of course.’

Mrs Norman considered, playing her fingers against her lips as she did so. ‘What about ’babby you’re carrying? You shouldn’t be heaving fish boxes about when you’re pregnant.’

‘I know.’ Jeannie bent her head. ‘But I don’t know what else to do. There just isn’t enough money to make ends meet.’

Mrs Norman sighed. ‘There nivver is. I’ll think about it,’ she said. ‘But I’ve to think about my other work – my young mothers, you know, they rely on me.’

‘I know,’ Jeannie said. ‘As I will when it’s my time.’

‘What about Harry?’ Mrs Norman asked abruptly. ‘What does he think about you working when you’ve got a babby and another one expected?’

‘Harry!’ Jeannie gave a shrug. ‘I don’t think he cares one way or another.’

Mrs Norman found her a room in Strickland Street only a few doors from her own house. An elderly widow, Mrs Herbert, lived in it and didn’t use her front room. She said that Jeannie could have it with the use of the scullery for one shilling and sixpence a week.

It was clean but fusty from the lack of use, but Mrs Norman said that once fires were lit it would soon air and warm up. Jeannie was delighted, and very grateful to her for such a quick response.

‘She’ll be glad of ’company, I expect,’ Mrs Norman said. ‘Owd lass gets a bit dowly living on her own.’

Billy helped Jeannie move; Mrs Norman offered his services, for he had left the sea and taken a job as a carpenter on the docks. He came on a Sunday with a handcart, making several trips to move her furniture and the braiding frame, although she was doubtful if she would ever get the use from it.

Mrs Herbert was deaf, very thin and undernourished, and Jeannie guessed that her rent money was a blessing to her. She told Jeannie that she hadn’t thought she was allowed to sublet but that Mrs Norman had assured her it would be all right to do so. She told Jeannie that her husband and son had been lost at sea and she was wholly dependent on money from a seamen’s charity fund. Just as Nan had been.

‘I don’t want to finish up in ’workhouse with folk I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’ve lived on ’road all my life and I’d like to die here.’

Jeannie fervently hoped that she wouldn’t die yet. She seemed quite a sweet old lady, and besides, it would mean looking for somewhere else to live yet again.

Harry came home three weeks later, having been directed by Billy to Mrs Herbert’s house. He stepped inside from the front door and looked round. ‘Not a bad place, Jeannie. I reckon you’ll be comfortable here.’

Jeannie looked at him. ‘
We
, you mean, Harry. You and me.
We’ll
be comfortable here.’

He looked anywhere but at her. ‘How much ’you paying?’

‘One and six for the room and use of the scullery,’ she muttered. ‘And then there’s coal to buy. Mrs Herbert uses the coal house so I can only buy it by the bag, which costs more.’

He put his hand in his pocket and held out a handful of silver. ‘Here’s ten bob. That’s ’rent for five weeks and a bit over for ’coal.’

Jeannie took it from him and kept her hand out. ‘And the rest, Harry. I need to eat. Jack needs to be fed.’

He looked blank. ‘Jack?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Your son Jack! I’ve started him on soft food, pobs and mashed potatoes and such.’

‘He won’t eat much, does he?’

‘No. But I have to. I’m still feeding him and expecting another. What’s the matter with you, Harry?’ She suddenly lost her temper. ‘There’s food to buy, I have to put money in the gas meter, there’s oil for the lamp … candles. My boots need mending and there’s never enough money to take them to the cobblers.’

‘I’ve to buy new gear as well, you know. I need another gansey—’

‘Then give me the money for wool and I’ll knit you one,’ she shouted. ‘That’s what fisher wives do; they knit and cook and bake and keep their homes nice for their man’s return, but you’re not giving me a chance to be a proper wife!’

‘There’s no need to shout,’ he blustered. ‘I’m doing me best.’

‘Your best isn’t good enough,’ she said, utterly deflated. She picked up Jack, who had started to cry. ‘We’ve to do this together or else we’re both the poorer.’

‘Tek it then.’ He threw more money on the table. ‘Tek it all. I’m not on shares, you know. My wages are fifteen bob a week less expenses. I shan’t be able to afford to buy a round at ’Wassand now.’

‘Then don’t go,’ she pleaded. ‘Stay at home; get to know your son. He hardly knows you, Harry. Is he to grow up wondering who his father is?’

Harry shrugged and picked up his jacket. ‘He’s too young to know owt yet. Anyway, I’m off out.’

She stared at him. ‘Will you be back?’

He shrugged again. ‘Don’t know. Might be. Don’t wait up.’

She gave a bitter laugh. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, the bed is right there.’ She pointed over her shoulder to where the double bed was pushed up against the wall. Mrs Herbert had left a sideboard and two wooden chairs in the room, saying that she didn’t want to get rid of them in case she should need them at some time. And whereas Jeannie found the sideboard useful for storing food, the room was now crowded with her bed, table and chairs; she’d sold the single bed and chest of drawers but kept the old chest for storage.

‘Was that Nan’s bed?’

‘Yes, and the table and chairs.’

‘Where’s ’other bed?’

‘There wasn’t room for it,’ she said. ‘I had to sell it.’

‘That were mine. It were a good bed. How much did you get for it?’

‘Not much. Not enough for the first week’s rent.’ She stared at him, daring him to question her further.

He nodded. ‘Right.’ He turned for the door. ‘You should be all right for a bit, then?’

Jeannie didn’t answer. What was there to say? It seemed they had run out of anything to say to each other. A chasm as wide as the estuary was between them and she had no hopes of the gap ever closing. How had this happened? What was the cause? Was it her? Were they so very different that their relationship was doomed to failure before it even began?

Harry it seemed had the answer to that and she was as hurt as if he’d delivered a physical blow. He stood with the door open and chewed on his lip before saying, ‘Thing is, Jeannie – well, trouble is, you know … you’re not one of us.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

JEANNIE APPLIED FOR work at one of the smoke houses, having left Jack with Mrs Norman. They hadn’t any vacancies at present, she was told, but in a way she was relieved for whilst waiting she had seen Connie, who when she saw her had turned her back. She tried another company but was given the same answer. From there she went to the fish quay to enquire if there were any vacancies for fish filleters.

The foreman had looked at her and said, ‘Well, there might be, but are you carrying a bairn?’

When she hadn’t answered, he said. ‘Why don’t you come after you’ve had it, eh? Get somebody to mind it while you’re at work. Is it your first?’

She shook her head. ‘No.’

‘Well then! Is your husband not in work?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He’s a trawler man.’

‘You shouldn’t need to be doing this then, should you? Not wi’ another bairn on ’way.’

‘No.’ She heaved a breath as she turned away. ‘I shouldn’t.’

There was no other work option open to her, and to fill the days and empty weeks, when she didn’t walk into town to continue her exploration of it, she took to walking westward along Hessle Road, past St Andrew’s Dock and the Dairycoates locomotive sheds, and along the banks of the estuary in the direction of the town of Hessle. She never did manage to walk as far as Hessle, as Jack was getting much heavier and the ground was too rough to push his cart.

Some days she felt very alone and extremely depressed; she had sold her wedding dress that her mother had struggled to buy, but there was barely anything left of that money and the coal bucket was almost empty. She lived on porridge and fed Jack with the milky pobs of bread and milk. On one particular Sunday, whilst walking, when Jack was grizzling and she felt very tired, she wondered what the point of her life was. The brown waters of the estuary looked deep and comforting and a heavy swell seemed to be beckoning her, but she looked down at Jack in her arms and he stopped his crying and gave her a wide toothless smile which lifted her heart, and she knew she had to find the strength and stamina to carry on.

‘There has to be more to life than this, Jack,’ she told him, and he patted her face in response. ‘But I couldn’t leave you behind or take you with me on such an unknown journey; that would be too cruel.’ She turned her back on the drowning undertow of a watery grave and set off back home.

There was little left of the once rural countryside, where the village of Dairycoates was now a distant memory, replaced by the clang and whistle of the railway, but here and there were the remains of an open field which had yet to be built on, and it was on one of these that she saw Billy crouched on the ground, examining something.