The Girl From Seaforth Sands (24 page)

However, it had not been necessary for Charlie to remain, once Dad had turned the corner. Bill’s old friend Ben Carpenter, who had been a fisherman in his time but was now mostly retired, had agreed to help the boys work the boat and Charlie had gone back to the Midlands, knowing he had not let his family down.

Walking briskly towards the tram terminus, Amy reflected that she had done a great deal of growing up over the past couple of months. It had started, she supposed, the night after Bill had been taken into hospital when she and Suzie had finally got down to brass tacks and talked plainly, because they had realised that night that they shared a common fear – that Bill might be taken from them.

‘I love me dad better than anyone else in the whole world,’ Amy had said earnestly, staring at Suzie’s pale and woebegone face across the table which had separated them. ‘The way the two of us are behaving, Suzie, isn’t likely to help his recovery, because he loves us both, you know, though in different ways. I’m willing to stay here and do everything I can to help you bring up baby Becky and to look after the boys, but I can’t do it if you’re set agin me. I told Dad this evening that I meant to move out, take a place of my own, even if it took my last penny, but he begged me to stay. I dare say you’d rather I went, but it’d put Dad in a rare worry to know you were trying to manage alone, so if we can come to some agreement . . .’

‘We must agree,’ Suzie had said, looking Amy squarely in the eye. ‘I don’t deny I’ve been hard on you, queen, but I knew right from the start that you didn’t want me takin’ Isobel’s place. You didn’t want Bill marryin’ anyone, least of all meself. I knew you were watchin’ me and thinkin’ your dad could have done a deal better, an’ it made me mean towards you. Then Paddy weren’t no help, were he? I reckon he knew how you felt about me – I am his mam, after all – so he made things hard for you,
same as I did. And he lied about Tommy Chee, didn’t he. Well, he telled me himself not an hour since that he couldn’t tell who the feller was, he were so muffled up. He said it were Tommy because he thought Bill would lose his rag wi’ you and leave you to gerron with it. But it had the opposite effect. An’ now Bill’s in hospital and . . . and we’ve gorra pull together, queen, for his sake and for our own. Paddy’s gone to sleep at Gran’s tonight, ’cos he said you’d not stay if he were in the house . . .’

‘It’s true I said I’d never speak to him again, but that was in the heat of the moment,’ Amy had said quickly. ‘Mind you, it’ll be for the best if he stays with Gran for a bit, seeing as how Gus telegraphed Edmund, Charlie and Mary to come home. There won’t be room to swing a cat once they arrive, so Paddy will be best at Gran’s.’

That night, Amy thought now, heading for Ruthie’s house, had been the beginning of a completely different relationship between her and her stepmother. It was as though Amy’s eyes had been opened to the very real love which Suzie had for Bill. She had never looked past Suzie’s shiftless and lazy ways to the depth of affection that she showed in every action she performed for Bill. Suzie had made her way
to the hospital two or three times a day with small comforts for her sick husband. She had bought the
Echo
each evening and stumblingly read him news of local events, though reading had never come easily to her. Little Becky had not been allowed on the ward, but Suzie knew how Bill adored his little daughter and had recounted all Becky’s exploits with as much interest and affection as though the child had been her own. What was more, on several occasions she had taken Becky to the hospital and lifted her up to the window nearest to Bill’s bed, so that he could see for himself how well and happy the child was. It had meant a lot to Bill, Amy knew, but it had been just one more task for Suzie, who suddenly found herself with more work than she had ever had to cope with in her life before.

For within a couple of weeks of Bill’s being taken ill, Gran, too, had fallen sick. She had contracted influenza and had been very ill indeed for three weeks, with the doctor calling daily and Aunt Dolly almost out of her mind with worry. The older woman had nursed her sister devotedly and had done her best to bring her back to health, but though she was now pottering around and doing her own housework once more, Amy acknowledged that Gran would never again be able to carry Suzie, as she had in the past.

So, though at the time she had felt some pangs of conscience over her insistence that Paddy should live with his grandmother, Amy soon realised that it was a blessing in disguise. She might dislike Paddy – well, she did – but she had always known that he was neither workshy nor lazy. When Gran had taken to her bed, all the messages, cleaning and a good deal of the cooking had fallen to Paddy’s lot, for Aunt Dolly was too old and frail to do much besides nurse her sister. Paddy had risen to the occasion and, though he had come round to the Logan house for advice from time to time, he had never asked them for help in his own predicament. Though she could not like him, Amy was forced, reluctantly, to admire the way he had coped. He was a young man, after all, not used to housework or cooking, let alone taking care of two old ladies, but somehow he had managed to keep the household going, though he must have been heartily glad when Gran had been able to leave her sick bed once more, albeit falteringly.

Ahead of her the front door of the Durrants’ house opened and Ruthie shot out on to the pavement. She was carrying a round of toast, folded over, and spoke rather thickly between bites. ‘Awright, chuck? It’s your big day today, in’t it? Did they say it was still all right for your dad to come out today, eh? I bet you’re excited, ain’t you? But how will you stop him tryin’ to help wi’ the fishin’, now the weather is so fine?’

Amy laughed and tucked her arm through her friend’s. ‘Dad’s not a fool, chuck,’ she said, answering the last question first. ‘He knows as well as the rest of us do that tomorrow or the day after the weather will probably break and turn windy and rough. He’s been in hospital so long that he won’t risk putting himself back by taking foolish chances with his health. As for being excited, of course I am, same as the rest of the family. Edmund wrote and said he’d come home and see Dad again, once he’s settled in, and Mary’s going to do the same. As for Charlie, he’s been home most weekends, as you know, so he’ll probably leave it a bit before he visits. But the rest of us are so excited . . . Little Becky’s made him a picture to hang on his wall and Suzie’s been cooking all the stuff he likes best since yesterday morning. Gus and Albert have clubbed together to buy him a new muffler and even Paddy came round with a bag of bull’s-eyes for him to suck while he’s mending nets. The doctor reckons he must take it easy until the weather’s truly warm.’

As they had been speaking, the two girls were hurrying towards the terminus and now
they climbed aboard a tram and took their seats just behind the driver. ‘My mum’s bakin’ some currant buns for your dad’s tea,’ Ruth said presently, as the tram began to rattle along Knowsley Road. ‘And I’ve bought him a bag of seed potatoes for his allotment. It ain’t much, I know, but I talked to Albert when he were bringing the catch ashore last week, and he told me he and Paddy had dug over your dad’s allotment as a bit of a surprise, like, so I thought mebbe they would put the seed potatoes in for him as well.’

‘That was kind. Dad’ll be just thrilled,’ Amy said appreciatively. Bill had put his name down for an allotment five years previously, but had not managed to get one until the last year, and it was his pride and joy. Despite the hardness of a fisherman’s life, he had told Amy that he found digging, planting, weeding and above all, harvesting his crops thoroughly relaxing and enjoyable. In summer he went there every night, making his way along Sandy Road until he reached the bridge over the railway, from where it was only a step. And Bill swore that the combination of soot from the engines and salt from the sea improved the soil and was partly responsible for the excellence of his crops. Once he had got well enough to worry, he had fretted over his beloved allotment and, though the family assured him that lying fallow until the spring came could do it nothing but good, he was unconvinced. Amy guessed that Albert and Paddy had dug the allotment chiefly so that Bill would have no excuse to do so himself before he was fit for the work, and was grateful, though she was sure it had been Albert’s idea, rather than Paddy’s.

‘I bet it’ll be like a party tonight when your da comes home,’ Ruth said enviously. ‘I’ll bring me seed potatoes and me mam’s buns, but I won’t stay. Mr Logan will want his home and his family to hisself after so long away.’

‘It won’t hurt to pop in for a moment.’ Amy smiled at her friend. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if Dad went to bed pretty early tonight. It’s an exciting day for him, but though he’s much stronger, he won’t be his own self for a while yet. The doctor said not to work until the summer, but I can’t see my dad sitting there idle. He’ll be mending nets and doing the accounts before many days have passed, if I know him.’

‘Well, I’ll pop in for a moment,’ Ruth conceded when the tram came to a halt beside a long queue of would-be passengers. As they began to scramble aboard, she turned to her friend. ‘I haven’t liked to ask, chuck, but does your dad know Paddy is living with Gran? Has anyone told him?’

Amy heaved a sigh. Despite the fact that there was now an uneasy truce between Paddy and herself, she had insisted that he continued to live with the two old ladies rather than in the Logan house. She had told Suzie that Paddy was needed more by Gran and Aunt Dolly than he was by themselves. It eased the congestion in the boys’ room, especially when Charlie came home to see his dad, and it also gave Paddy freedom to have his friends in and to come and go as he pleased, for Gran and Aunt Dolly did not attempt to restrain him.

However, she had a nasty feeling that Bill would not approve of this arrangement, so satisfactory to herself but so galling both for Paddy and his mother. She wondered how long it would be before Bill realised that his stepson was no longer living under
his roof and thought apprehensively that it could not be many days before he twigged. Paddy had most of his meals with the two old ladies but occasionally, when he had been helping with the boat, he had his tea with the Logans. Bill was sure to notice his absence at mealtimes, particularly at weekends, and would doubtless comment on it.

Suzie and Amy had been getting on very well ever since they had come to terms with one another and Amy was able to see Suzie’s point of view better than she had ever done before. Despite her stepmother’s casual-seeming attitude towards her only child, she was very fond of Paddy and, though her life was busier than ever with Bill in hospital, she made a point of seeing him at least once every day. She agreed with Amy that the old ladies needed Paddy, particularly since Gran’s illness, but Amy knew Suzie missed her son and imagined that, at times, she must feel quite beleaguered by Logans, especially with Bill not there to protect her. But she had never even suggested that Paddy should come back to live with her, so Amy supposed they would all have to wait and see how Bill reacted to the change.

The tram jerked to a stop, the conductor bawled down the length of the vehicle, ‘Lime Street Station! We doesn’t go no further, ladies and gents all,’ and Amy and Ruth joined the exodus. Ruth was still working at Dorothy’s and was very happy there, so Amy usually walked her as far as the kitchen entrance, then continued round the corner into Great Charlotte Street and along to the fish market. Mrs O’Leary and Amy reached the stall simultaneously and smiled at each other as they automatically began their morning preparations.

‘Mornin’, chuck,’ Mrs O’Leary said breezily, struggling out of her thick winter coat and changing her button boots for wooden clogs. ‘So, today’s the great day, eh? I reckon your stepma is all of a twitter with her man comin’ home after so long. And I dare say you and your brothers is pretty excited.’

‘That’s right, Mrs O,’ Amy agreed, hanging up her coat and shedding her boots. ‘Gus and Albert will be along later, because they had a right good catch yesterday and they’ll be wanting to set sail as soon as they can today, since the weather’s clement at the moment. Gus said they ran into a regular shoal of whiting yesterday afternoon, though they were a bit small. And when he pulled up the crab pots he got at least a dozen decent-sized ones, and crabs always go well.’

‘Crabs!’ Mrs O’Leary exclaimed, her face lightening. ‘Now crabs is something that we can always sell and seein’ as they’re alive, alive-oh it wouldn’t matter if they did hang about for a day or so, ’cos no one could say they wasn’t fresh. What time do you think the lads will be along?’

Amy was about to reply when a rumbling made her look up. Gus and Albert, pushing a handcart between them, came skidding across the slippery cobbles and stopped, panting and grinning, alongside the stall. ‘Your fish delivery, ma’am,’ Gus said, bowing mockingly in Amy’s direction. ‘All fresh as a daisy, especially them perishin’ crabs. I got a nice tweak from the big ’un in the right-hand corner, ’cos he started trying to make his way out. You’ll want me to leave the basket, I ’spect?’

‘Yes,’ Amy said, coming round the stall to help the boys to unload the catch, while Mrs O’Leary briskly weighed the fish and wrote down price
per pound in the shabby little ledger she kept for the purpose. None of the Logan family ever haggled with Mrs O’Leary over the price, because it had long ago been agreed between herself and Isobel that she would pay according to scarcity value, demand and quality, and they knew that Mrs O’Leary would never cheat them.

Mr Mosscrop, on the stall next door, was a different proposition, though. When he cast envious eyes at the heavy basket of clacking and furious crabs, and asked if he might buy some to boil and dress, Gus promptly named a price which made Mr Mosscrop stagger back in pretended horror. ‘I bet you didn’t pay that for ’em, Mrs O,’ he grumbled, eyeing his neighbour. ‘Still an’ all, I dare say I’ll get a bit extry for dressin’ them and no one else seems to be bringing crabs in today, so I’d best pay up wi’ a good grace.’

Accordingly Mrs O’Leary, who was a fair woman, picked out the two largest crabs and handed them to her neighbour. The boys, pocketing the sheet of prices and the money she gave them, reminded Amy to bring something good back for tea since it was Dad’s first day home and rattled off, pushing the cart before them.