by Val Wood
‘Pray that she does,’ he said fervently.
That evening, after the last of their customers had gone, Susannah cleared away and washed up glasses and tankards, wiped down the counter and tables and generally made everything tidy ready for the next day. She looked up and saw Uncle Brewster watching her, and asked if everything was all right.
‘Oh, yes, m’dear,’ he said in the slow manner he had. ‘I’m sure that it is.’
Aunt Brewster was sitting with her knitting idle on her lap when they went through into the kitchen. ‘All done, m’dear?’ she asked.
‘Yes, all done.’ Susannah smiled. ‘Aren’t you ready for your bed yet? It’s gone eleven.’
‘I wanted to talk to you. Well, we both wanted to talk to you, didn’t we, Mr Brewster?’
‘Aye, I suppose we did,’ he answered. ‘Not sure what we ’going to say, though.’
‘No,’ his wife agreed. ‘Or how we’re going to say it.’
‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’ Susannah asked anxiously. ‘Is it something to do with the lawyer?’
‘It is.’ Aunt Brewster nodded. ‘It’s a fine how-de-do and no mistake.’
‘Do you want to tell me, or is it private? Can I help?’
‘Shall I say, Mr Brewster, or will you?’ the old lady queried and Susannah glanced from one to the other.
‘You’d better say, Mrs Brewster. You’ve got more words at your disposal than I have.’ He picked up his pipe from the shelf at the side of the range and put it between his teeth to chew on.
Aunt Brewster took a deep breath. ‘Well, it seems that ’owners of ’Fleet have had an offer from somebody wanting to buy it from them.’
Susannah gasped. Would that mean that the Brewsters would be turned out, and herself as well?
‘They’ve offered a fair bit o’ money, seemingly, but there are conditions before they buy.’
‘What kind of conditions? Do they want you to leave? Because if they do that just isn’t fair!’ Susannah said hotly. ‘Not after you’ve spent your whole life here.’
‘Well no, that’s just it, you see.’ Aunt Brewster wrinkled her forehead as if perplexed. ‘The conditions are that we stay here for ’rest of our natural lives, which we would want to do anyway, and that we employ a younger person to help us, who will be given a salary by ’new owners. And if we’re not willing, then it won’t be sold.’
‘Goodness!’ Susannah said. ‘Well, that’s a relief, isn’t it? Do you know who ’new owners will be?’
‘No. That’s ’strange thing,’ Uncle Brewster broke in. ‘We’ve to assign somebody to act as our agent. Some legal body. But not Mr Watson, cos he’s to act for ’new owners.’
‘We thought we’d ask Mr Cannon,’ Aunt Brewster said. ‘If he’s willing; cos he’s to lee— lee—’
‘Liaise with Mr Watson,’ her husband finished for her. ‘So can you help us out, Susannah?’ he asked awkwardly. ‘We don’t know any other young person.’
‘You mean – for me to help you run ’Fleet? Be the person with a salary?’ Susannah was astonished and delighted.
‘Aye. ’Present owners are anxious to formalize everything immediately, that’s what ’lawyer fellow said,’ Uncle Brewster explained. ‘Well, they would be, wouldn’t they, if ’price is good? I wouldn’t have thought they’d get much for it when it needs so much repair. ’Roof needs fixing for a start and I can’t climb up any more. So they’ll want to shake hands on it, in case these folk change their minds.’
‘Oh, yes. Please!’ Susannah gave a little whoop of joy and gave them both a kiss. ‘I’d love to. I’ll do it without a salary if necessary.’
‘Oh no,’ Aunt Brewster said. ‘Mr Watson said that was how it was to be done, and we’ll take our profit from ’sale of alcohol as usual.’ She shook her head. ‘We can’t work out what’s in it for them: ’new owners, I mean. That’s a right mystery and no mistake.’
‘They’ll be looking to the future,’ Freddie said, when Susannah told him. ‘When Mr and Mrs Brewster are no longer here. But you’ll have experience behind you then, Susannah, and they might keep you on, or else you could run something else. I could be quite envious of you. It sounds so exciting.’ He gave a sigh. ‘Father keeps on at me about when I’m a lawyer like him. He definitely doesn’t want me to go into commercial enterprise, which is a pity, because I’m sure I’d be good at it. I would like the challenge.’
‘You’d have the head for it, Freddie,’ Susannah said. ‘You’re so clever and intelligent. But would you have the gift or flair?’
He smiled at her. ‘Perhaps not. But you would, Susannah.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Mr Cannon joined Freddie at the Sun Inn on the Friday evening and early on Saturday morning they set off on their customary walk to Spurn Point, following the path from the silted-up Hedon haven to the village of Paull on the banks of the Humber estuary. From there they had an approximately twenty-mile walk to reach their destination at the end of the peninsula. It was a bright morning, not too hot, and with a few white clouds, propelled by a brisk breeze, scudding along the wide sky.
Fishermen were returning with their catch of shrimps and Mr Cannon remarked on how much he had enjoyed his last supper of potted shrimps at Mrs Brewster’s. ‘I understand the Brewsters wish to speak privately to me,’ he said. ‘I’ve arranged an hour’s meeting for tomorrow morning. We can then take a short walk before I return home by the afternoon train. Perhaps into the countryside rather than by the river?’
Freddie nodded. After spending a whole day with his father today, the notion of enjoying his company for only a short time tomorrow seemed quite appealing. ‘I’ve often thought I’d like to visit Patrington,’ he said. ‘We’ve never been and I understand that the church is one of the finest in the country. It will be open for Sunday services, so the vicar will perhaps be willing for us to look round.’
His father pulled a wry face. He had not attended a church service since his wife’s funeral, though he had not objected to Freddie’s joining the chapel choir whilst at school. ‘If we are looking purely at the architecture,’ he said, ‘then I have no objections. Perhaps we might go by train,’ he added. ‘There is a limited service running on a Sunday.’
They continued on their trek. Both were well equipped with sturdy boots and rainwear, for they had walked together since Freddie was very young. Though his father was not an imaginative man, he had done his level best to enliven and divert his sad little son who so missed his mother. The problem, Freddie often mused since he had grown into young adulthood, was that his father still considered him to be vulnerable and unable to make his own decisions.
There were a great many ships on the estuary: tug boats, fishing boats, coal barges, and larger steamers and commercial craft coming and going from the port of Hull. Here was one of the biggest whaling and fishing fleets in the country, giving industrial employment to thousands of workers. They continued walking briskly, Freddie’s father swinging his stick. They crossed the deep Thorngumbald Drain and noted the isolated farmhouses whose occupants must have barely eked out a living. They didn’t talk much but watched the frisky white wave crests and breathed in the sharp salty smells and observed the chimneys and low-lying banks of Lincolnshire on the other side of the Humber.
At midday they approached Cherry Cob Sands – saltmarsh reclaimed from the estuary – and agreed that they must visit again in the winter when the wading birds came to feed. They took a rest and a drink of water and ate a slab of chocolate when they arrived at Stone Creek, and silently watched a sailing vessel approach and then anchor in deep water. This small harbour was used by the farmers of Sunk Island, the land reclaimed from the waters of the Humber, to transport their corn and to import coal and other commodities.
‘Do you think the harbour is used by smugglers?’ Freddie asked lightly. ‘It would be the perfect place.’
‘In the old days perhaps,’ his father answered seriously. ‘But since new roads have been built on
Sunk Island I imagine that it is too busy a place for nefarious characters. I understand that the road system is now the best in Holderness.’
Freddie turned to gaze behind him at the flat windswept landscape of rolling corn fields, and the hawthorn and blackthorn hedges where hedge sparrows twittered and water gurgled in the deep ditches. He could hear the cry of curlews and saw a kestrel swooping high in the sky, but not a sign of busy people, though he didn’t doubt that they were there, somewhere.
They crossed the bridge at Patrington Haven, which like the haven at Hedon was silting up, and continued along the raised embankment of Welwick and Skeffling, the pathway becoming sandier as they approached the village of Kilnsea. They stopped at the inn there for a glass of ale and a sandwich. Mr Cannon drank thirstily and then said, ‘Do you mind if we turn back? I don’t think I’m up to walking the last few miles to the Point. Not when it’s so very sandy and difficult to walk on.’
Freddie was exceedingly surprised. His father was usually so full of energy. ‘Are you all right, Pa? Not unwell?’
‘My legs are beginning to ache and I do feel a little tired. I’d prefer to turn back.’
It took them longer to return as his father kept stopping to rest and occasionally stumbling. They reached Patrington Haven at mid-afternoon and Freddie suggested that they walk from there into the market town of Patrington. ‘It’s only about a mile,’ he said. ‘And we can hire a conveyance to take us into Hedon.’
His father agreed. ‘I’m so sorry to spoil the day,’ he said. ‘But I’m beginning to feel quite unwell.’
When they arrived in Patrington they were told on enquiring for transport that there would be a train arriving at the railway station in half an hour, which would take them to Hedon in less than thirty minutes. Mr Cannon took Freddie’s arm as they walked down the hill to the station and in no time at all the train steamed in; they bought their tickets and were on their way.
‘I shall miss supper tonight,’ Mr Cannon said as they jolted Hedon-wards, ‘and retire to my room for a rest. Perhaps you’d inform Mr and Mrs Brewster that I will meet them as arranged tomorrow morning? I shall depart for home soon after and forgo our walk to Patrington church. I’m sure it is most impressive, but perhaps it can wait for some other time? There is no place more comforting than one’s own bed when one is feeling indisposed.’
Freddie agreed and said he hoped the affliction was only temporary. His father assured him that it was.
He told Susannah about his father’s being unwell and their walk into Patrington. ‘We didn’t have a chance to look at the church,’ he said, ‘because the train was due imminently. I’ve only ever seen the spire from the river bank.’
Susannah was silent for a while and then spoke in an undertone. ‘It’s a fine sight. Quite a landmark in Holderness. Aunt Jane and I used to walk from Welwick and pass it on the way to ’flax mill.’
‘We passed Welwick,’ he said. ‘At least, we walked along the Welwick bank. The saltmarsh has grown significantly since I was last there, though it is not so great at Skeffling.’
Susannah grew wistful. ‘I used to play on ’Welwick bank with my cousin Thomas. We weren’t supposed to in case we fell in ’river, but we never got caught. Water’s such an attraction to children. We once went all ’way to …’ She stopped, frowning, as a distant memory hovered in her consciousness. ‘Well, nearly to Sunk Island. Thomas said it was Sunk Island land over the drain. He showed me a burned-out cottage near there at Welwick Thorpe and told me that I’d been born there.’ She gave a slight shiver. ‘It gave me a funny feeling, though I wasn’t sure whether to believe him.’
‘How did he know?’ Freddie asked softly.
‘He said his brother had told him. But Daniel was always making up stories.’
‘Would you like to go back?’ he asked. ‘I would come with you.’
She shook her head. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I’d be afraid to. When I reach twenty-one, perhaps I will. When I come of age.’
The following morning, Mr Cannon was closeted in the kitchen with Mr and Mrs Brewster whilst Susannah attended to requirements in the inn. When they had finished their discussion, she was called in. ‘Miss Page,’ Mr Cannon said. ‘You know something of what has transpired through Mr Watson regarding the Fleet Inn. I have agreed to act as the agent for Mr and Mrs Brewster, and before I meet Mr Watson I must ask you if you are willing to stay on at the Fleet as a salaried assistant? I do not wish to prejudice you in any way, but I think you realize that much depends on your answer.’
‘I would like to, very much, if Mr and Mrs Brewster would like me to and agree to it,’ Susannah said. ‘I’m really happy here and would feel secure if I could stay.’
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I will call at Mr Watson’s house and ask if he will oblige me by seeing me today before I journey home. I will hear what he has to say on the subject and then we can make the necessary arrangements.’ He looked at Susannah and hesitated before saying, ‘It is a most unusual case. There will be more that Mr Watson can tell me, I have no doubt, and I will give my advice’ – he turned to the Brewsters – ‘accordingly.’ He rose from the table and gathered some papers into his hand. ‘I wish you all good day.’
‘He’s an odd sort of gaffer,’ Mr Brewster remarked after Mr Cannon had departed. ‘But I suppose he knows what he’s doing.’
‘He’s a very proper kind of person,’ Mrs Brewster reproved him. ‘He’ll want to make sure everything’s in order.’
Freddie came to see Susannah later in the afternoon to tell her he would be leaving the next day to return to Anlaby. ‘Father wanted me to travel with him today but I said I had some work to finish.’ He smiled. ‘It was a lie, I’m afraid. I wanted to see you. Do you have time to come for a walk?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I can slip out for half an hour.’
They walked into the garden, where runner beans and sweet peas were climbing up tall canes, and white butterflies were hovering over the cabbages. ‘I don’t suppose your father discussed his meeting with Mr Watson, did he?’ she asked. ‘I’m most intrigued. I wonder who the buyer can be.’
Freddie frowned. ‘Father came back in a very strange frame of mind after the meeting. I don’t think he’s too well at the moment. Of course he doesn’t ever talk about private business with me, but he did say that I mustn’t in any circumstances discuss the situation with you or the Brewsters.’
‘But I want to, Freddie,’ she said, dismayed. ‘Who else can I discuss it with? And besides,’ she added, ‘I’m only going to be an employee, so there’s nothing secret about it.’
‘I’m sorry, Susannah, but Father was most insistent. He explained that he will be acting for you and the Brewsters and therefore you are his clients. Of course I understand that. His clients must be assured at all times of his probity. Don’t be downcast,’ he said fervently. ‘I’m sure everything will be all right. Father is meticulous in all he does. He’ll look after you very well.’
Susannah nodded. ‘Yes, I’m sure that he will. It’s just that there’s a new life ahead of me and I wanted to talk over ideas with you.’ She looked up at him. ‘I wanted to share it with you.’
He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I want to share my life with you, Susannah,’ he said softly. ‘Not just ideas.’
She put her head against his chest. ‘I want that too, Freddie. I feel now as if my life is just beginning.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
‘I wish to speak very seriously to you, Freddie,’ Mr Cannon said, on Freddie’s return home. ‘It concerns your acquaintance, Miss Page.’
‘She’s more than an acquaintance, Father,’ Freddie protested. ‘Much more. She’s a very good friend. I’m exceedingly fond of Susannah.’
‘Then you must ease yourself out of this friendship before harm is done.’ His father had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Discontinue your association with her. I don’t mean that you should cold shoulder her, dear me no, you must be polite at all times, but yo
u should keep her at arms’ length socially.’
Freddie stared at his father. Had he taken leave of his senses? ‘I love her, Pa,’ he blurted out. ‘I want to marry her when I’m established. I don’t understand what you’re saying!’
His father looked shocked. ‘Come and sit down.’ He indicated the chairs placed by the fire. ‘I will explain as much as I can without betraying my duty of confidentiality.’
Freddie’s head reeled. Whatever had Susannah done? Was it something to do with the business with the Brewsters?
‘I have in my possession certain facts appertaining to Miss Page which I cannot disclose, except to say that because of them, it would not be proper for you to continue with your friendship.’ His father crossed his legs and laced his fingers together, a habit that Freddie remembered from childhood whenever his father was attempting to explain some complex situation. ‘It would not do, you understand, when I am acting on Miss Page’s behalf, for my son to have any kind of, erm, relationship with her. There must be no question of any lack of integrity on my part.’
‘You’re not saying that Susannah is in any kind of trouble, or has done something she shouldn’t – something illegal?’ Freddie frowned.
‘Indeed not! Would I act on her behalf if that were the case?’ James Cannon’s answer was sharp and to the point. ‘No. She is above reproach. But in view of circumstances which will be ongoing for many years, I must advise that your friendship should be terminated.’
‘And if I refuse?’ Freddie decided that he would refuse, no matter what his father said.
His father heaved a breath and shook his head. ‘It would not look good, Freddie. Business and pleasure never mix.’
They stared at each other. They had had a good father–son relationship, but Freddie was aware that he had always deferred to his father’s wishes, giving him the respect and esteem that he considered were his due. There had been few occasions so far when they had been in total disagreement. Even the choice of Freddie’s future career had been carefully discussed, though he knew how keen his father was to have him join him in his profession.
