Children of the Tide (64 page)

George grinned as he caught up with her. ‘Da says I’ve got to look after thee. I’d better do as he says. He’s scared tha’ll go off back to Hull and leave him.’

‘I’ll not do that, Master George,’ she declared. ‘I like it out here.’ She put her head up. ‘What’s that lovely smell?’

George put his nose in the air and sniffed. ‘Roast pork and beef, and woodsmoke.’

‘No. Behind that. Can’t tha smell something sweet?’ she asked fervently.

‘Onny May blossom. Is that what tha means, Jenny?’ He looked down at her eager young face, a rosy glow cast upon it by the fires.

‘That’s it!’ she laughed. ‘I’d forgotten ’name.’

‘How old ist tha now, Jenny?’ he asked in his slow manner.

‘Fourteen,’ she said. ‘I’ve just had a birthday.’

‘Tha’s had a bothday and tha didn’t tell us?’

She grinned cheekily. ‘Why? Would tha have given me a present?’

‘Aye.’ He shuffled, embarrassed. ‘I reckon I would have.’ He stood for a moment, gently nodding his head, looking away from her and at the fires burning and the crowd milling around, as if they were of the utmost interest. ‘Fourteen, eh?’

‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘So can tha wait for me, Master George?’

A flush touched his cheeks and he lowered his eyes, then he turned towards her and diffidently fingered the shawl around her shoulder. ‘Aye,’ he murmured. ‘I’m in no hurry. I reckon I can.’

Victoria dashed across to where Richard was talking to Luke. ‘I’m going to Italy,’ she declared and then flew off again.

‘As I was saying,’ Richard thrust his hands into his trouser pockets, ‘why don’t you come and work for
us? Our foreman is ready for retiring; he could ease off a bit if we had an extra pair of hands, and if things work out between us you could take over when he goes. It can’t be easy for you working at the mill – not now.’

‘No, it’s not,’ Luke said bluntly. ‘It’s not easy having my babby’s granfer and uncle as employers. They don’t know how to treat me and I don’t know how to treat them.’

‘Well then, if you worked for us, you could visit them as family, or almost,’ Richard persuaded. ‘You’d maybe have married Betsy if things hadn’t gone so wrong?’

‘Aye.’ Luke warmed to this member of the Rayner clan. Richard Rayner was like Miss Sammi, or Mrs Foster as she now was, without frills or affectations. ‘I would have stood by her. I was right fond on Betsy.’

‘So you’ll come then?’ Richard was glad that he’d had the conversation with Tom earlier, when he’d confided his embarrassment over Luke; it would work out well for all of them. ‘Shall I tell Tom? Or will you?’

‘No, I’ll tell him, and his da. It’s onny right and fair. I like to do things right, and I’ll work my notice out, they’ll be short-handed otherwise, seeing as Master Tom, seeing as Tom will be away on honeymoon with his wife.’

Dusk was just starting to fall, and the musicians started to tune up into a merry jig, when the clop of hooves was heard and carriage lamps were seen swinging up the drive.

‘More late arrivals!’ William said cheerfully to Gilbert as they stood chatting. ‘We shall have to open up another meadow to accommodate them all.’

‘It’s Hardwick!’ Gilbert stiffened. ‘Oh, God! Something must have happened.’ William followed more slowly as Gilbert ran towards the carriage, where Hardwick, his features lit by the lamp, peered with
his hand to his forehead as he tried to make out who was who in the gathering darkness.

‘What’s happened, Hardwick? Something’s wrong?’

‘No, sir. Nothing’s wrong.’ Hardwick’s normally serious features were wreathed in a trembling smile. ‘But I had to come and tell you myself. I knew that you’d want to know!’

‘What? In God’s name, man! Spit it out. What’s happened?’ Gilbert wanted to shake him.

Hardwick put his hand to his face to control himself. ‘It’s
Polar Star Two
, Gilbert – and
Arctic Star
. They’re safe! Damaged, but safe! They’re heading towards ’Humber and home.’

Gilbert sat down on the nearest bench, put his head in his hands and wept.
I don’t deserve this
, he repeated again and again.
I don’t deserve this reprieve
. Then he thought of the women who would be scurrying down to the Old Harbour to wait through the night hours to greet the ship and their menfolk, who, God willing, would be on board; and he gathered himself together to tell Harriet the news and tell her that he would return at once with Hardwick to Hull.

‘I must be there,’ he said. ‘I must be there this time. I can’t let them down again.’

‘I shall come with you.’ She grasped his hand. ‘We’ll both be there, and Adam too,’ she added valiantly. ‘We’ll all three be there to greet the ships and the men as they come in to harbour.’

A rousing cheer went up as the news circulated, and the health of the returning Hull seamen was drunk by the countryfolk as the carriage pulled away in the darkness towards Hull.

‘What a perfect ending to a wonderful day.’ Sammi held Tom’s hand. Soon they, too, would be changing into travelling clothes and leaving for their destination. They were to stay overnight in Bridlington and then the next day were going to drive wherever their fancy took them. They both wanted to go to Whitby, and to the North Yorkshire moors, where
they would walk or ride in the landau which Tom’s father had bought for them.

‘The old devil,’ Tom had said when he’d told Sammi of his father’s gift. ‘He has a fortune tucked away and told nobody of it!’

‘What a lovely day.’ Ellen linked arms with William. They watched the guests milling in the meadow and in the garden of the house.

‘Look.’ He pointed to the moon which had risen above the sea, appearing from behind a cloud which it edged with silver. The cloud moved on, leaving the bright orb shining alone in the night sky, casting its light down on the glinting foaming ocean, touching the hedges of the paddock, and lighting the rose walk and gardens.

They watched in silence as the house was illuminated by its brilliance, the castellated turrets and towers lit like a romantic illustration from a fairy tale. They cast their eyes around the meadow and saw Sammi on Tom’s arm, flitting wraith-like in her cream gown amongst their guests.

‘It’s as if we are looking at a memory,’ William murmured. ‘We have to catch it while we can.’ He glanced up again at their well-loved home and saw the windows with the moon’s reflection, like dark eyes gleaming as they surveyed the scene.

Ellen squeezed his arm. ‘Don’t feel sad,’ she whispered. ‘We have had some happy times here.’

‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘But soon it will all be gone. The house, the land; we haven’t so much longer.’

‘But we shall have our memories,’ she urged, ‘and the children will have theirs.’ She smiled. ‘And we will have grandchildren too, who will perhaps remember. It won’t be lost for ever; the memory will be passed on.’

The fiddler began to play; he closed his eyes and, with the bow poised, he began a waltz melody. There came from within the mellowed wood a haunting sound of crying gulls, the call of an owl and the soft
sighing of the sea as it broke against the cliffs below them, the whoosh of a breeze filling a canvas sail, and those who were listening, really listening, didn’t know if the sound was music from the supple plying of the fiddler’s fingers, or from within their hearts.

‘Come! Dance with thy lady, Master Miller!’ Mrs Bishop beamed at them as she sat with a glass of ale in her hand and her brood of children playing around her, in the company of Mrs Reedbarrow who had two sleeping babies on her knee.

Tom took Sammi’s hand and bowed low to her and she, in smiling reply, gave him a deep, old-fashioned curtsey. He led her to the square of grass and as everyone stood back and began to clap their hands, he held her in his arms and they began to dance.

Valerie Wood was born in Yorkshire and now lives in a village near the east coast. She is the author of
The Hungry Tide
, winner of the Catherine Cookson Prize for Fiction,
Annie, Children of the Tide, The Romany Girl, Emily, Going Home, Rosa’s Island, The Doorstep Girls
and
Far From Home
, all available in Corgi paperback.

Find out more about Valerie Wood’s novels by visiting her website on
www.valeriewood.co.uk