The Girl From Seaforth Sands (17 page)

She did her best to linger on the way home, but Becky was too heavy for her to hang around for long. She wondered whether to go round to Ruth’s, but the impulse to get out of the house – and away from the task of shelling shrimps – was leaving her. What was the point, after all? If she went back now she would make a pot of tea and spread some bread with margarine and jam, and she could be comfortably fed before the task began.

She was just turning off Crosby Road when she saw, ahead of her, a couple of lads. She recognised Paddy, even from the back, and groaned inwardly; despite the fact that his mother worked for them he was still as rude and nasty to her as ever. Indeed, he had more opportunity now, since his mother made him come in and help shell shrimps or gut fish when the catch was good. Amy was glad that he seemed to dislike the task as much as she did, and also glad
that her father had resisted Suzie’s blatant attempts to get him to take Paddy aboard the
Mersey Maid
as another hand. ‘One boy is all I can cope with for now,’ Bill had said gruffly, when Suzie’s suggestions that he should employ her son became perilously close to demands. ‘There ain’t the room for more than the three of us and that’s the truth, Mrs Keagan. But if Gus ever decides to move on . . .’

The matter had rested there, but Amy guessed that Paddy himself would have preferred life aboard the boat to the dairy on Dryden Street and was meanly glad that he had been rejected. He might get nicer if he had to muck out cows and cart heavy milk churns for a few years, she thought. And then there were deliveries. He might get called in to work on the milk carts and in winter, when they went off in the dark and cold of early morning, he wouldn’t be too keen on that.

She reached the jigger at the back of the house and turned into it. Moments later, she opened the back door and went into the kitchen. The small scullery was to her left, and already she could hear the boys scuffling themselves round the table. Gus helped with the shelling, despite being almost a man, so did Albert and herself, of course, and even Suzie occasionally lent a hand, but Bill held aloof. He was the skipper of the boat, after all, and did most of the gutting and cleaning of the fish, and besides, there was really only room round the table for six at the most. So Amy skipped into the kitchen and sat the baby down on the rug, surrounded by cushions; then she went over and took a slice from the plateful of bread and jam, which Suzie – miracle of miracles – must have prepared when she realised that Amy would not be back in time to do so. Only then did she go into the scullery.

Gus, Albert and Paddy were already seated at the table, with a great glistening pile of shrimps in front of them, but seated beside Paddy was a stranger. He was tall and thin with dark hair cut in a fringe across his forehead and liquid black eyes which, when he glanced at Amy, sparkled with amusement. He was shelling shrimps with amazing speed, scarcely seeming to need to glance down at his work, for his thin, strong fingers continued to pick the shrimps, even while he was looking up at Amy. A second glance at the stranger confirmed that he was not English, though Amy could not have said with any accuracy from which country he had come. His skin was a very pale golden brown and, though his eyes were almond-shaped, they were not slitted, like those of many Chinese, nor was his skin dark enough to lead her to believe him of Indian blood.

However, it was none of her business where the boy came from. She slid along the bench and settled opposite him, beside Gus, who was working away stolidly, head bent, shoulders rigid with effort, for the tiny, finicky movement necessary for peeling shrimps was harder for Gus’s big, clumsy fingers than for the smaller ones of the younger members of the family.

Amy picked up a shrimp and began to peel, kicking Albert under the table as she did so. ‘Who’s your pal?’ she enquired, low-voiced.

Paddy looked up and grinned maliciously. ‘He ain’t Albert’s pal, he’s mine,’ he said. ‘Tommy, that there’s ‘orrible Amy, what I’ve telled you about. This is Tommy Chee, me bezzie at the dairy.’

To Amy’s amazement Tommy promptly held out
a thin hand, smiling at her as though, she thought, he was in the Queen’s bleedin’ drawing room instead of the shrimp scullery. However, they shook hands and grinned at each other, before Amy turned back to Paddy. ‘If I’m ‘orrible Amy, then that there’s perishin’ Paddy,’ she said composedly, continuing to peel shrimps. ‘Why are you helping us, Tommy? You’re awful good at it, I could see that at a glance, but it isn’t a job as many people want. If I could get out of it, I’d never peel another perishin’ shrimp all my life long.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind it,’ Tommy said easily. ‘Many hands make light work, they say. Besides, Paddy an’ me’s going to take a walk up the Scottie, get ourselves a paper of chips, when the shrimps is done.’

‘Right.’ Amy told herself she was not particularly interested in Paddy’s friend or in what they intended to do that evening. What mattered to her was getting the shrimps peeled, so that she could have a good wash and get to bed early for once. Suzie went home when they had had supper, which meant that a good many other chores, such as washing up and damping down the fire for the night, would fall to Amy’s lot. Bill sometimes took pity on her and told her to run off to bed, saying he would finish her chores for her, and Albert did his share by drying the dishes and bringing in water for the morning. But even so, Amy usually got to bed late and worn out. But this evening it was clear that the shrimps would be finished betimes. Amy had been doing them for years now, and had never seen anyone work with the speed and efficiency which Tommy brought to the task. She began to copy him, modelling her movements on his and, in an amazingly
short space of time the shrimps were finished, the empty shells disposed of and the little pink curls of shrimp flesh placed in the big black cauldron, ready for potting.

‘I’ll have me supper when I get back,’ Gus said, eagerly jumping to his feet. He was courting a girl who lived in Rawson Road and knew that Peggy’s mother would be glad to feed him if he and Peggy meant to go out for the evening. Gus turned and grinned at the younger ones. ‘Thanks, kids. See you later, Dad.’

Supper tonight was the scrag end stew, with mounds of potatoes and carrots. This was followed by apple pie and Amy stared covertly at Tommy, as they sat down to eat. On hearing his name, she had guessed he was of Chinese origin and wondered whether he ate ordinary food, as well as the rats and small dogs, to say nothing of cats, which rumour and hearsay had attributed to them. It was soon obvious that Tommy was well used to ordinary British food, however. He tucked in with the rest and congratulated Mrs Keagan on the apple pie, which made Amy smirk; she knew Granny’s pastry when she tasted it.

Bill walked over to the fire and stood with his back to it, warming himself. ‘If young Paddy’s off out with his pal, I’d better walk Mrs Keagan home when she’s finished with the washing up,’ he said. with studied casualness, which did not fool Amy for one moment. ‘You’ll keep an ear open for the littl’un, won’t you, Amy?’

Amy nodded, but raised her brows at this, pulling a face. Her father never walked Suzie home – why should he? She only lived at the end of the road, no more than thirty yards further along the pavement,
so she assumed that Bill had something to say to Suzie, which he did not want the rest of the family to hear. She devoutly hoped that he intended to give old Suzie a good telling off, for surely by now Bill would have realised that Suzie shirked her work and gave poor value for money? She wondered if she might sneak quietly out and hide in the back jigger to hear what Bill wanted to say, but Albert put the lid on any such plan by suggesting that he and she might accompany Tommy and Paddy up the Scottie and have a paper of chips on their own account.

‘Dad won’t be two minutes, takin’ the old girl home,’ Albert said, lowering his voice to a whisper. ‘And baby Becky’s asleep, so she won’t bother. What do you say, Amy?’

Amy’s hopes of an early night promptly disappeared. A walk in the dark up to the shops, a bag of chips and some light-hearted banter was just what she needed. But suppose her father decided to pop into the Keagans’ house, or took longer than usual for some reason? She guessed that Albert would want to leave at once and she could not risk baby Becky waking to find herself alone in the house. ‘Oh, but we can’t leave the baby . . .’ she began, only to be interrupted by Bill, emerging from the fish scullery.

‘That’s all right, chuck,’ he said heartily, ‘I dare say Mrs Keagan can see herself safe home if I go into the road and watch till she reaches her door. You go off and enjoy yourselves.’ He delved into his pocket, producing some coins which he held out to them. ‘Here, buy yourselves a bottle of ginger beer to drink wi’ your chips.’

Amy took the coins, thanking her father profusely, and presently the four of them made their way along the road, all thinking gleefully of the bright lights ahead and the fun they could have, since they had finished early for once.

It was getting on for ten o’clock when Albert and Amy made their way back along Seafield Grove. Paddy had decided to walk part of the way home with Tommy but though Albert said he would very much like to accompany them, he felt the walk would be too much for Amy’s shorter legs.

‘If you think them linen poles is short,’ Paddy growled, ‘then you’s is madder than old Ma McGregor. The gal looks as though she’s on stilts. Still an’ all, gals ain’t got no stamina, I grant you that. Why not let her go home, whiles you come wi’ us? No one ain’t goin’ to interfere wi’ a beanpole like young Amy here.’

Amy bristled and gave as good as she got. ‘I dunno how you dare say things about my legs, which you’ve hardly seen, when your ugly face is on view all the time and enough to turn the milk sour,’ she said briskly. ‘Can’t you find nothing else to do than to be rude to your betters? I’m a lady, but if I weren’t I’d thump you on your bloody snout.’

‘Oh, very ladylike,’ Paddy sneered.

But Tommy, though he was grinning, tugged at his friend’s sleeve. ‘You’ve gorra give her best, old son,’ he said. ‘Ta-ra Albert, Amy. Been nice meetin’ you. See you again some time.’

‘I hope you do see us again, ’cos you’re the quickest shrimp picker I ever did meet,’ Amy called over her shoulder, as she and her brother headed for home. The chips were all eaten, but there was quite half a bottle of ginger beer left and they shared the drink, turn and turn about, until Albert drained the last drop as they entered the jigger.

‘It’s been a grand evening, Albert,’ Amy said gratefully, as they made their way across the cobbled yard. ‘Thanks ever so much for taking me along.’

‘That’s all right.’ Albert opened the back door and ushered her inside. ‘It were good of Dad to keep an eye on the baby for you an’ all.’ He glanced round the empty kitchen. ‘Think he’s gone to bed?’

‘Not likely, it isn’t even ten yet,’ Amy said, glancing at the clock above the mantel. ‘Mebbe he’s nipped out back for a jimmy riddle. No, he can’t have done that, the lamp’s still on the hook by the door.’

‘I dare say Becky woke,’ Albert observed, glancing towards the stairs. ‘I’ll pull the kettle over the fire, then we can all have a drink before we goes to bed.’ He chuckled. ‘It’ll be a change for our dad not to have a pint to send him to sleep, but he’s never been one for havin’ drink in the house, so it’ll have to be tea.’

Amy stared round-eyed at her brother. ‘Do you mean that he goes out to the pub every night?’ she enquired incredulously. ‘Mary told me he wasn’t Temperance and hadn’t signed the pledge, but she said he wasn’t a drinking man either.’

‘Nor he is,’ Albert said stoutly. ‘But he’s only human, Amy. Fishing’s a hard job and he likes a bit o’ company, apart from us kids, I mean, so he goes down to the pub and meets his pals and has a pint or two. What’s wrong with that?’

‘I dunno.’ Amy’s, illusions of her father’s character were crumbling round her ears. ‘Does he get drunk, Albert? Only I’m never up when he gets back, or not often anyway.’

‘One beer don’t make a feller drunk,’ Albert told her. ‘It’s the company he goes to the pub for, not the drink. There ain’t a better man livin’ than our dad, queen, even Mam never grudged him the odd drink now and then just to relax, like. Now she’s gone and he’s got all the responsibility and that, it’s a wonder he don’t take more than a glass. Ah, hear that? I said he were probably givin’ an eye to baby.’

Sure enough, Amy heard the sound of feet crossing the bedroom and beginning to descend the stairs, and presently her father, looking very self-conscious, entered the room. He looked across at them, and it struck Amy that there was a flush on his cheeks and a glittering brightness in his eyes, but before she had done more than notice the fact, someone else came down the stairs. It was Mrs Keagan, pink-faced and bright-eyed, with her hair, which was usually pulled back from her face, tumbling about her shoulders and her blouse done up on the wrong buttons.

Amy, never renowned for her tact, said blankly, ‘Wharron earth . . .? I thought you said you were seeing Mrs Keagan home when we left for our chips, Dad.’

‘Oh aye.’ Bill turned to stare at the woman beside him. ‘But we . . . that’s to say . . .’

‘The baby woke,’ Suzie said brightly. ‘Anyhow, your dad’s got something to say to you.’ Her glance, Amy saw, was defiant and even as she looked, Suzie reached down and took Bill’s hand in a possessive grasp. ‘Go on, Bill,’ she urged, ‘tell ’em’.

Bill took a deep, steadying breath. ‘I’ve asked Mrs Keagan to be me wife,’ he said bluntly, ‘and she’s accepted. We’ll be wed before Christmas and all one big, happy family. And now, since the two of youse is home, I’ll just walk Mrs Keagan – I mean
Suzie – back to her place, so’s we can break the news to Paddy, Gran and Aunt Dolly.’

Neither Albert nor Amy said a word. They simply stared unbelievingly, as Bill got cap and coat off the back of the door and helped Suzie to throw her shawl round her shoulders. Then the two of them left, with only a valedictory wave from Bill, and a gloating and glittering smile from Suzie.

‘Well, I’m buggered!’ Albert said slowly, as the sound of his father’s footsteps faded. ‘Who’d have thought it, our Amy? What’ll happen, d’you suppose? They can’t all move in here, that’s for sure. Well, I suppose Paddy could share with us boys, but there’s nowhere for Gran and Aunt Dolly. Your room’s a squeeze for you and Becky ain’t it, and Mary, when she’s home? I suppose they’ll keep both houses on, even though it’s double the rent.’