The Harbour Girl

by Val Wood

  ‘Good.’ Jeannie was relieved. ‘Let’s hope you’re right.’

  And she was. Rather than send the lad, Mike Gardiner came to collect the net himself. He carefully looked it over again, nodded and then smiled. ‘Well done,’ he said. ‘I’ve another in ’handcart if you can tackle it.’

  He paid her the offered rate, unhooked the net from the frame and took it out of the yard. His lad brought the other one in and draped it over the frame, telling her that he would collect it towards the middle of the following week.

  She jiggled the coins in her hand, and suppressing a sense of elation went inside and handed it all over to Nan. Nan curled her gnarled hand over it and then said, ‘Nay, I can’t tek it all,’ and handed back sixpence. ‘Put summat by for ’bairn.’

  It was after supper when they were sitting by the range that Nan suddenly asked, ‘Are you prepared for ’coming event?’

  Jeannie, who had been daydreaming into the coals of the fire, blinked and sat up; then, realizing what had been said, she lifted up her knitting. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And my mother is sewing a layette. She’s got a very neat hand.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that,’ Nan said gruffly. ‘I meant ’birth itself. Do you know what happens?’

  ‘Oh,’ Jeannie said and found she was blushing. ‘Erm, yes, sort of, but nobody talks about it.’

  Nan shook her head and sighed. ‘If they talked about it it’d never happen again. I’ll ask Mrs Norman to come and see you, shall I?’

  That night after Nan had gone to her bedroom and firmly shut the door, Jeannie sat in bed and by the light from a candle stub began a letter to her mother.

  Dearest Ma,

  After a shaky start things are beginning to look up. During the first few difficult days I felt like running away and coming home, but Harry has sailed as third hand on a ship owned by a shipmate of his father’s; it’s a chance to earn some money and get him back into working again as he’s been off for a while. I’ve started on net mending and have had a promise of plenty of work. But the best thing is that although Harry’s grandmother seemed to resent me at first, I think she’s now accepted that I’m Harry’s wife and I’m here to stay. She’s rather grumpy and I’ve yet to see her smile, but she makes sure that I rest and put my feet up, for the bairn’s sake if not for mine.

  She went on to tell her of the enormous docks and the fish quay and the people she had met, and finished by saying that she was sure that everything would turn out for the best once she and Harry had settled into their new life together.

  I’m lonely sometimes, and I miss you such a lot, and Tom too and everybody I was fond of – even Granny Marshall. Her tongue isn’t as sharp as Nan’s. Please give my love to everyone I know, and keep lots for yourself.

  Your ever loving daughter,

  Jeannie.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  MARY FOUND THE letter from Jeannie waiting for her on the doormat when she arrived home from the harbour. It had been cold and wet for most of the day and at four o’clock she had decided to go home. Next week the herring girls were due. The work would be hard but there’d be money to be made.

  She dished up some soup which had been simmering on the low fire and sat down to eat. Tom had told her that he was having supper at Sarah’s house and not to wait for him. She scanned Jeannie’s letter as she ate and then with a frown read it again.

  During the first few difficult days, she read. Why were they difficult? I wonder.

  Mary had had some doubts about the marriage on meeting Harry and his family for the first time, but then decided that probably everyone was on edge, including Harry’s grandmother, and reminded herself that they too were meeting strangers for the first time. Jeannie doesn’t mention Harry’s sister, she thought, and I’d hoped that she might make a friend of her, but then it’s early days yet; perhaps she’s waiting to let Jeannie settle in.

  She finished her soup and turned her chair towards the fire, which was now blazing with the extra shovelful of coal she had tipped on to the embers. It seems that things started to improve after Harry left to go to sea, which is rather odd, she thought. She gave a pensive smile as she recalled how the days used to drag whilst she waited for Jack to come home from a voyage. But then I wasn’t pregnant and rushed into a hasty marriage. Perhaps it was a mistake, she thought. Jeannie needn’t have gone. We would have managed somehow, even though folks would have talked; I wouldn’t have been bothered by that. And then the notion struck her that perhaps Jeannie had gone ahead with the marriage because of her and Tom. She didn’t want to shame us, she decided; that’s why she married him.

  She had closed her eyes wearily, relishing the comforting warmth of the fire, when there came a familiar knock on the door. ‘Come in, Josh,’ she called. ‘The door’s open.’

  She saw Josh quite often down by the harbour and he called frequently at the end of the day, sometimes bringing her a parcel of fish or other times just calling for a chat. She had told him long ago that he could come whenever he wanted to and didn’t need an excuse or reason to visit. He’d grinned and said that he wouldn’t want to deter any possible suitor by coming too regularly, but she’d assured him that she didn’t want a suitor anyway and that his presence would be welcome to keep away anyone with that intention.

  They had an easy friendship and he often asked her advice about his family, particularly regarding Susan, his eldest daughter, who he felt had ruined her chance of marriage by looking after her siblings. For Mary’s part she rarely asked him for anything, being a woman able to do most things for herself. She lived a simple life, grateful, she told herself, that she could get from one week to the next without too much difficulty.

  ‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

  He shook his head. ‘No thanks. Susan will have supper ready.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘It’s about Susan that I’ve come. I think she might have a friend.’

  Mary raised her eyebrows. ‘She’ll have plenty of friends, won’t she? Or do you mean a new friend? A man friend?’

  ‘Mm.’ He nodded. ‘Well, not new exactly. He’s a Scarborough lad; works for a butcher in Eastborough.’

  ‘And do you have a worry over that? It’s a respectable trade.’

  ‘No. No, I don’t. It’s just that he’s been married before. His wife died of influenza about three or four years ago. He was left with two children.’

  ‘And you think he’s looking for a wife to take care of them?’

  Josh looked anxious. ‘Yes. Susan has spent her childhood looking after Stephen and the others. If she’s going to look after any bairns they should be her own.’

  ‘How old is he? This butcher’s lad?’

  Josh shrugged. ‘Twenty-six or so. Don’t misunderstand me. I’ve nothing against him. He seems like a decent type. I’ve asked around already.’

  Mary smiled. ‘Of course you have. But if he’d wanted someone to look after his bairns he would’ve done that already. Who’s been looking after them in the meantime?’

  ‘His mother and his sister, but his sister’s getting married and his mother’s not well, and that’s why I’m worried.’

  ‘You’ve made some enquiries,’ Mary commented. ‘And now you’d like me to dig a little deeper?’

  ‘Please!’ Relief showed in his face. ‘If you would, Mary. I’ll trust your judgement.’

  Mary nodded and remembered the time when Granny Marshall had warned her that Josh would be looking for a wife to take care of his children after his wife had died. But he hadn’t. He’d managed, with the help of Susan.

  ‘I’ll ask around,’ she promised. ‘Susan deserves someone nice, even if he already has children.’

  Josh looked at her for a second, and then he smiled. ‘Yes, she does.’

  ‘I’ve had a letter from Jeannie,’ she told him. ‘I can’t make out whether she’s happy or not. It seems that Harry has gone to sea as a third hand.’

  ‘I assumed he had his skipper’s ticket,’ Josh said. ‘
He’s old enough, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, but I gathered from conversation at the wedding that he didn’t have a ship.’ She pressed her lips together anxiously. ‘Maybe he’s taken on any job that was offered.’

  ‘Well that’s good, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘It shows the lad isn’t work-shy. They’ll need all the money they can get, especially as there’s a bairn due.’ He glanced at her. ‘I am supposed to know that, aren’t I?’

  She gave a wry laugh. ‘I think everybody does.’

  The next day, instead of taking her usual walk along the harbour at midday, she walked up the hill to Josh’s cottage and knocked on the door. Susan opened it and Mary could tell immediately that there was something different about her. She seemed livelier and brighter.

  ‘It’s my dinner break,’ Mary said. ‘I thought I’d pop up and ask how you are.’

  ‘Come in,’ Susan said. ‘I thought you might call.’

  ‘Did you? Why’s that?’

  ‘Da! He’s found out about me seeing Robin. I knew he’d ask you to come and find out if it’s serious.’ The brightness on her round face faded. ‘Well, you can tell him it’s not. He needn’t worry. I’ll not leave him in the lurch.’

  Mary frowned. ‘Him?’

  Susan sighed and nodded. ‘Da. I’ll not leave him to cope on his own, even if Robin asked for me. Which he hasn’t,’ she added. ‘I’ve given him enough reasons not to.’

  ‘Oh, Susan!’ Mary said. ‘That’s not what your father is worried about. He’s anxious that – Robin – just needs a wife to look after his wee bairns. He wants you to have the chance of a proper marriage and your own children.’

  Susan sat down and motioned Mary to do the same. ‘Does he? But how can I leave him to manage on his own? Stephen’s not nine for another couple of weeks.’

  ‘And you’re only twenty,’ Mary said softly. ‘It’s time you had a life of your own, Susan.’

  Susan shook her head. ‘I think that Ethan and I will both finish up unwed, living here with Da to the end of our days. Ethan is devastated about Jeannie. He’ll not look at anybody else.’ She glanced across at Mary. ‘After Ma died, I used to wish that Da would marry you and we could all live together. And that Ethan and Jeannie would get married, and then Tom and Ida would, and that would just leave me and Nancy and Stephen with you and Da; and as it is’ – she gave a deep sigh – ‘Tom’s going to marry Sarah and Ida is courting and Nancy is already eyeing up the lads.’

  Mary smiled. It was time for Susan to enjoy her remaining youth. ‘Which means that you’ll soon be free. How long have you known Robin? Are you fond of him?’

  ‘He runs a butcher’s shop in Eastborough. I started going there about four or five years ago after our old butcher gave up his business. Then just after that, Robin’s wife died and I told him that if ever he was stuck for somebody to mind his bairns for an hour or two, I’d do it. He never asked me cos his mother and sister looked after them, but I think he was grateful that I’d offered. I haven’t walked out with him, but we’ve met from time to time and not accidentally,’ she finished, blushing slightly.

  ‘So why does your father think it’s serious?’

  ‘He saw us one evening. I’d gone out for a walk along the sands and Da remembered he needed something from the chandler’s and he saw Robin walking with me, and then only last week he saw us together again.’ She laughed. ‘He put two and two together and made six. He needn’t bother himself,’ she repeated. ‘I’ll not leave home.’

  ‘But you like him, do you?’ Mary persisted.

  Susan turned her face away. ‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘I do.’

  Mary made it her business to call at the butcher’s shop the next morning. She bought two mutton chops and a pork pie. She assumed it was Robin who served her. He was a tall thickset man with sandy-coloured hair and an easy manner.

  ‘Thank you, madam,’ he said when she paid him. ‘Haven’t I seen you down at the harbour?’

  ‘More than likely.’ She smiled. ‘I don’t know why I don’t put my bed down there.’

  ‘You’re a braider,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, and a herring girl.’

  ‘Ah! Hence the Scottish accent.’

  She nodded. ‘It never leaves me, even though I’ve lived in Scarborough for over twenty years.’

  There was no one else in the shop and he seemed happy to talk. ‘The herring fleet’s late this year.’

  ‘It is. I hear they’ve had good fishing in Shetland. The curers are up there and the Dutch have had their noses put out of joint. They’ll be here next week, I hope.’

  ‘I hope so too. They bring business to the town, though I’ll not sell much meat.’ He grinned.

  ‘Is Mr Robson not here any more?’ she asked, speaking of the butcher whose shop it was.

  ‘He pops in now and again; he’s not been well. He’s happy for me to run it until he comes back. I’ve been here since I was a lad.’

  A few more pleasantries and she left, hurrying down the hill with her purchases and knowing she was behind with her work. Nothing to worry about there, she mused. Nice young man. I’d be happy to have him in my family, bairns or not, and this was what she told Josh when she saw him next.

  ‘Tell her she’s free to go courting,’ she said. ‘It’s you she’s bothered about. She thinks you can’t manage without her.’

  ‘Course I can,’ he spluttered. ‘And besides, our Ida can do her share of housework for a change, until she weds, which won’t be yet. She’s far too young.’

  It was Ida who altered the state of the Wharton household. She announced one evening about a week later that she was no longer going out with the young man on whom she had pinned her hopes of marriage because she had seen him hand in hand with someone else.

  ‘That’s just as well,’ Josh told her, ‘because you’re too young to be married anyway. You can help our Susan and learn what it’s like to run a household and mebbe then you won’t be in so much of a hurry to be wed.’

  ‘But I go to work, Da!’ Ida was aghast. ‘Susan doesn’t!’

  ‘Susan does work,’ her father said. ‘All the week and without a day off. But things are going to change.’

  His three daughters stared at him. Stephen was out playing on the sands with his school mates.

  ‘Susan is going to have a day off every week. You can choose which day, Susan, and it doesn’t have to be always the same one. Both of you’ – he pointed to Ida and Nancy – ‘will help with the ironing and cleaning the brasses and you’ll strip the beds ready for washday. And Stephen will clean all the boots and shoes, shake the rugs and sweep the yard every morning before he goes to school.’

  Susan began to cry and after a moment Ida put her hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Susan,’ she said. ‘It’s only now that Da has spelt it out that I realize what a lot you do for us.’ She bent and kissed her sister’s cheek. ‘I’ve been a selfish pig, but I’ll help from now on and mebbe you and me can take a walk together sometimes like we used to when we were little.’

  ‘I will as well,’ Nancy piped up. ‘I quite like cleaning the brass and making it shine. I can just remember Ma doing it and letting me help her.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I can’t remember much about her, but I can remember that.’

  Josh turned away, full of emotion. He still felt the loss of his wife and stepson keenly, but thought how lucky he was to still have such a loving family. They had made another life for themselves, but he was determined, now that his eyes had been opened, that each of his daughters should also have a life of her own. As for his sons, Stephen was just a schoolboy, full of mischief as he had once been himself, whereas Ethan … He gave a small sigh. He couldn’t help Ethan, who was steeped in misery, who hardly spoke of anything except fishing or his boat. Ethan had had plans of his own but he hadn’t shared them, not even with Jeannie, who had been included in them. Well, she was lost to him now with a husband and a child on the way. Ethan too would have to make another life.

 
; CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHARLIE, A YOUNG man of about Harry’s age who knew Mike Gardiner, brought a trawl net for Jeannie to mend. It was badly rent and full of holes and he said he needed it back urgently.

  ‘I was told it wasn’t worth mending,’ he said. ‘But I can’t afford to buy another.’

  He told her he had inherited his father’s half share in a smack. His father had had to give up fishing as he was infirm and unable to leave the house. Charlie was now the only wage earner.

  She asked him to hoist it on to the frame for her to examine. It was an old net and heavy to handle. Some of the outer mesh was badly damaged, as was the cod end, the narrow tapering cone of the net, as if it had been snagged among rocks. It had been roughly mended, probably by fishermen in a hurry to use it again; repairs which would need undoing and starting again. ‘I’ll do what I can,’ she said. ‘But it’ll take some time; maybe four or five days working on this alone.’

  He nodded. ‘Can you finish it for when I get back from ’next trip? I’m off in ’morning to ’Dogger. I expect to be away just over a week. If you can mend this for when I get back I’ll bring you another, then I’ll have three good ’uns.’

  Jeannie agreed, though she told him she would have to charge him extra for this one. ‘I might have to get some help with it.’ She thought she would ask Nan to give her a hand.

  ‘It’ll still be cheaper than buying another,’ he said. ‘And I’ve been told that you’re good.’

  It seemed that word was spreading and it was a relief to her that she was earning money, though she knew it might not be regular work. Most fishermen or their wives mended their own nets; it was single men like Mike Gardiner or Charlie who needed the work doing.