The Harbour Girl (9 page)

‘We – seemed to have things to talk about,’ she said lamely.

‘He was holding your hand,’ he said, ‘and he kissed you. I looked round and he was kissing you.’

He stopped walking and turned to her. It seemed that he was waiting for a response.

Jeannie looked away from him. She couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘He did. Several times.’ When she thought of Harry’s lips on hers, his hands on her body, she trembled. ‘I wanted him to.’

It was as if she had struck him, for he gave a small gasp. Then he took her face in his hands and turned her towards him so that she had to look at him.

‘I thought that we – that you and I – that we were a twosome – I took it for granted that we were.’

She took his hands away from her face and shook her head. ‘Took it for granted?’ she whispered. ‘Without a word to me? You never so much as hinted that that was what you wanted, or asked me how I felt.’

‘We’ve known each other since we were bairns, Jeannie! Was there ever any need for words?’ There was pain and bewilderment on his face. ‘Surely you knew that I always cared for you? That one day, when I had my own smack and was earning money and you were old enough, we would be wed?’

She wanted to cry. If she had known … but if she had known and still met Harry, would it have made any difference? She didn’t think it would. Harry meant desire and excitement, and temptation to which she had succumbed. Sensible Ethan would always be dependable and loyal and she still cared for him, but not in the same way. Not any more.

‘You should have asked me, Ethan,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t know, and – and it’s too late now. Harry wants to marry me and I’ve said that I will.’

He put his hands to his head. ‘I can’t believe you’re telling me this, Jeannie.’ His face was a picture of misery. ‘I can’t believe it. Don’t
want
to believe it. You’re shattering dreams I’ve had ever since I was a lad.’

‘I’m sorry, Ethan.’ And she was. She tried to take his hand but he pushed her away and began to walk off, but then he turned back.

‘I’ll walk you home,’ he said. They went back down the hill in silence.

‘Something the matter?’ Mary asked when Jeannie went in the house. ‘You’ve not been long. There’s no trouble, is there?’

‘No. At least – yes.’ Jeannie felt regret that her long friendship with Ethan was broken and she burst into tears.

‘What is it, lassie? Something’s wrong. Can you not tell me about it?’

‘I saw Harry again yesterday.’ Jeannie saw the question on her mother’s face. ‘I met him last year, remember? He came looking for me after work yesterday. He wants us to be married, Ma.’ He didn’t actually say will you marry me, she thought. But that’s what he meant. ‘And I want to.’ She wiped her wet cheeks. ‘And Ethan saw us together and came over and I introduced them and that’s why Ethan came just now. He wanted to know about him, and – and I told him and he’s upset.’

She began to cry again. ‘I didn’t want to hurt Ethan, but what could I do? He said that he thought – that he thought that he and I would get married when I was old enough. But Ma, he never ever said! He took it for granted that I knew. And I didn’t.’ She wept. ‘I didn’t.’

Her mother sat down. ‘And are you sure that you want to marry this Harry? Are you sure that he hasn’t sweet-talked you? Is he going to come and see me? Cos you know you can’t be married without my say-so.’

Jeannie snuffled. ‘I know, and he said he would come and see you, but I wanted to think about it first. And I have thought about it and I do.’

Her mother took a breath. ‘So,’ she said slowly. ‘When is he coming again so that we can talk about it? You’re only just sixteen, Jeannie. It’s a big step to take with someone you hardly know. What do you know about his background, his family? Is he in regular work? All these things might not seem important when you meet someone you think is special, but believe me they are when you’re bound to someone for the rest of your life.’

‘He didn’t say when,’ Jeannie said. ‘It’ll be when he has another day off, I expect. He’s a fisherman. We know what it’s like. If there’s fishing to do then that’s what they do. He has to earn a living.’

But it was different in Hull, from what she had gathered. The fishermen of Scarborough were mostly self-employed, or at least if they didn’t own their own boat they often had a share in one. In Hull, so she had heard, there were big companies with several vessels and men were employed to work them. They were also away for longer periods, sailing to Arctic waters for deep-sea fishing.

The joy she should have felt was somehow eroded because of Ethan’s misery, and although she didn’t try to avoid him they didn’t meet, not even accidentally. She still went about her daily business and joined her mother down by the harbour as before, but her path never seemed to cross Ethan’s.

‘Have you seen Ethan, Ma?’ she asked one night. ‘I want to talk to him. I still want us to be friends.’

‘I don’t think that’ll happen, Jeannie,’ her mother said quietly. ‘He’s hurt. He’s licking his wounds. He’ll talk to you when he’s ready.’

One morning Mary saw Josh and called him over. ‘There’s trouble between our bairns,’ she said.

‘Is there?’ Josh looked puzzled. ‘Is that why Ethan’s like a bear with a sore head? I’ve not had a word out of him for days.’

Mary told him the story as she knew it as she continued knotting and splicing the net on her knee. Josh crouched down beside her.

‘I always thought that they—’

‘Aye, so did he, but ne’er a word to Jeannie. This is the trouble, Josh,’ she said, glancing at him. ‘If nothing is said how is anyone to know?’

He straightened up. ‘It’s been hard, Mary. Very hard, bringing up bairns without a mother. A double tragedy for Ethan, losing Mark on the same day. No wonder he says so little.’ His face softened. ‘And my poor Susan, she’s lost her childhood trying to be a ma to the little ones, and raising Stephen.’

‘She has,’ Mary agreed, and wondered if Josh had ever noticed the occasions when she had looked after his younger children for a few hours so that his daughter could have some time to herself or with friends. Susan was eighteen and her hopes, if she had ever had any, of having a husband of her own must be rapidly fading with so little opportunity to meet people. Her younger sister Ida was courting a fisherman. The youngest girl, and Stephen, who was now eight, no longer needed constant attention, but Susan’s role of housekeeper to her father and surrogate mother to her siblings was a duty it would be difficult for her to abandon.

‘You should have married again, Josh,’ she murmured. ‘It would have been best for you all.’

Josh nodded. Like Ethan he was not communicative; he kept his worries close to his chest. ‘Mebbe I should. But what woman would’ve taken on a man with a house full of children?’

She smiled. He was a handsome amiable man. ‘A few, I should think, but your bairns are almost all full grown now, and maybe Susan won’t want to relinquish her position.’

‘But Ethan,’ he said. ‘What to do about him?’

‘Nothing,’ Mary replied. ‘There’s nothing to be done. Jeannie has set her sights and her heart on this fellow Harry. I only hope she’s not making a big mistake.’

Josh heaved a sigh. ‘I hope not too, but Ethan’s heart will be broken, I know that. I know my lad.’

March turned to April and the days were getting longer, the evenings cool but pleasant. Jeannie took to taking rambling walks after work, to parts of Scarborough which she normally wouldn’t visit. She walked beyond and above the Spa, admiring the rose gardens and the tree planting that was taking place for the benefit of visitors coming to the resort. Sometimes she walked in the parks, or gazed through the railings at the locked square gardens to which only the private householders had a key.

Sometimes she climbed the hill overlooking the North Bay and stood gazing at the power of the sea as it hit the rocks, or watched the ships dipping between the watery ridges of the choppy ocean. This eastern coastline was notorious for its shifting currents and the vagaries of its weather, which could change instantly from bright sunshine to enveloping sea mist, from gentle breeze to gale-force wind.

She made her way down the cliff and walked along the sands almost to the boundary of Scalby before turning about and returning home. There were times when she wished she could take out a boat and row or sail in the bay and round the headland towards the harbour. There was talk of a road or promenade being built to join the north and south bays, but it had come to nothing, though plans were being drawn up for pleasure gardens and landscaping and work had already begun to clear a woodland ravine.

Jeannie needed these walks alone as she slowly began to realize that there was a possibility that Harry might not come back; that what he had told her, of his love and of their marriage, might not be true. She had given him her address so he could no longer claim not to know where she lived, as he had said last time.

By the end of May she was becoming anxious and towards the middle of June she was decidedly so.

On the longest day of the year Mary rose and with a shawl over her nightgown began the breakfast; she took the pan of porridge from the fire where it had been simmering all night, stirred it, salted it and poured it into three bowls on the table, then riddled the coals and placed the kettle over the heat.

‘Come on, Jeannie,’ she called. ‘Six o’clock. Time you were up.’

Jeannie rolled out of bed and within a minute was heading for the outside privy. Mary heard the retching and placed a hand over her mouth.

‘Dear God,’ she muttered, ‘please. No. Not that!’

‘I knew that crab was off,’ Jeannie gasped as with watery eyes she stumbled back through the door. ‘Tom! Was that one of yours?’

Tom had purchased crab and lobster baskets which he took out at weekends. He was doing well with the boat-building company and at seventeen was assured of a regular job. He had also conquered some of his fear of sailing and the baskets were a sideline to bring in a little extra money.

‘Nowt wrong with my shellfish!’ he said. ‘Anyway, I had some and so did Ma and we’re all right.’

Mary said nothing, but her hand shook as she dished up the porridge and beckoned Jeannie to sit down.

Jeannie wiped her hand across her mouth. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she muttered. ‘I’ve definitely had something that disagreed with me.’

‘Yes.’ Her mother’s voice was subdued. ‘I would say that you had.’

CHAPTER NINE

FOR MARY THERE appeared to be only one possible explanation for Jeannie’s nausea, and when she thought back to the day her daughter, so flushed and wide-eyed, had told her she wanted to marry the Hull fisherman, the interpretation seemed totally plausible.

As she walked down to the harbour to work on the nets she felt weighed down with shock and anxiety. What will we do if he doesn’t honour her and the child by marrying her? When Mary had first met Jack and they had fallen instantly in love with each other, he had treated her with respect and never asked her for more than she wanted to give.

But this Harry! We don’t know who he is; he could be married already. The thought of Jeannie bringing up an illegitimate child without the support of its father filled her with fear. Trying to earn a living is hard enough; we’re barely able to make ends meet as it is. And in a few years’ time she would lose Tom’s small contribution. Although he had not yet completed his apprenticeship, he was courting the daughter of one of his colleagues and already talking of marriage and saving to set up a place of their own once he was earning a living wage. Yet despite everything, the idea of having a small child tottering about and playing in the house also gave her a frisson of pleasure. By the time Jeannie was six she had wanted more children, but her husband’s tragic death had put an end to that possibility.

We’d manage, I expect, she considered, and not a word of censure penetrated her thoughts. Only the practicalities of dealing with the problem concerned her.

Granny Marshall will have plenty to say, she thought as she arrived at the harbour yard where the nets in need of repair were draped on racks; she nodded and raised her hand in greeting to the fishermen and the other women who were also starting work. Aggie had become even more difficult over the last few years and nothing anyone did or said ever pleased her.

At midday Mary left the yard and took a walk towards the harbour. A fleet of drifters was coming in, and Josh’s boat was among them. He and another fisherman had recently bought the
Bonnie Lass Two
, which could hold about sixty drift nets. They had also invested in a steam capstan which made hauling the full nets on board a little easier, although it was still hard work and they needed a crew of seven or eight, but the bigger catch meant it was worth it.

Josh called to her from the deck. ‘Everything all right?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ she lied. ‘As right as can be. All right with you? A good catch?’

He nodded. ‘Pretty good.’ He grabbed a couple of herring from the deck and leapt off the boat. ‘Here.’ He handed them to her. ‘Fresh as they come. Ethan seems to be more settled. He’s not as morose as he was. Mebbe they’re seeing each other again – him and Jeannie, I mean.’

She thanked him for the herring and then said, ‘Don’t think so.’ She didn’t meet his eyes. ‘I think we can forget about that.’