The Harbour Girl

by Val Wood

  She shook her head. ‘It’s not true, Connie,’ she said. ‘Everybody needs somebody to lean on.’

  ‘Yeh!’ Connie agreed eagerly. ‘That’s what I’m trying to say.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  MIKE GARDINER HAD to lift his head considerably to look his new acquaintance in the eye. He held out his hand. ‘Glad to meet you, Ethan. They mek big lads in Scarborough, don’t they?’

  Ethan laughed, his grin wide between his fair moustache and thick beard. ‘Not all as tall as me,’ he bantered. ‘This is my brother Stephen. He’s nine and promising to be bigger than everybody.’

  The tall thin boy beside him looked down at his feet.

  ‘Say how de do to Mr Gardiner, Stephen.’ Ethan gave a nudge, and Stephen put out his hand to Mike.

  ‘Good to meet you, Stephen,’ Mike said. ‘Are you planning to be a fisherman like your brother?’

  Stephen nodded. ‘I think so. Ethan said he’d try me out. Fishing runs in the family.’

  ‘Yes, it usually does. I’ve one son who’s a fisherman, and ’other’s a butcher, so we’re never short of food!’ He looked towards the dock. ‘So, you’ve travelled here by smack rather than train?’

  ‘Yep,’ Ethan said. ‘I don’t often get the chance to come out in her, thought it would be good to sail; we’ve not used the engine at all, have we, Stephen? He’s learning the ropes. I think it’s important.’

  ‘But you don’t fish in her?’

  ‘Onny sometimes. At night. She’s an indulgence.’ He smiled, but Mike thought he looked wistful.

  ‘So about this other business. You’re keen to set up a company?’ Mike gazed shrewdly at him.

  ‘Yes. Can we sit down somewhere? There’s a fair bit to discuss if you’re interested.’

  Mike led them to a lean-to shed which he said was his office, where they sat down on a wooden bench. ‘You met my lad Aaron, didn’t you?’ he said. ‘Where was that?’

  ‘No, that wasn’t me. That was Len, another Scarborough skipper. Len and I and a couple of others were thinking of converting a paddle steamer, but there were a few disagreements and so it came to nothing. Perhaps it’s just as well. Some of the paddle steamer companies that were set up are failing, but I’m still keen to upgrade and so is Len, and my father said he might come in, and then Len met Aaron somewhere, I’m not sure where, Flamborough maybe, and they hit it off and started discussing expanding. We’ve got to do it, Mike, or else we’re finished. Smacks are at their limit now; even with bigger engines we can go no further than the Shetlands. A purpose-built screw steam trawler wouldn’t be dependent on home waters.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Mike agreed. ‘Grimsby trawlers are doing well off Iceland and ’Faroes, though they’re taking some stick from ’local fishermen.’

  ‘That’s always going to happen,’ Ethan said. ‘It’s happened in Scotland too when some trawlers didn’t stick by the three-mile limit; the Danes have set four miles, but with a bigger ship we wouldn’t even need to stay in northern waters. We could go much further.’

  ‘You say your father might come in?’ Mike asked. ‘Only might?’

  ‘I think he’ll be persuaded. He’s got shares in another smack which he’d be willing to sell, and if I keep this one he can use it for onshore fishing.’

  Mike raised his eyebrows. ‘You’ll not sell yours?’

  ‘Not this one I won’t. As I say, she’s an indulgence. I’ve shares in another which I’ll sell if I can, though the smack market is dropping.’

  ‘The Scandinavians would buy,’ Mike said. ‘All right. Let’s have your proposal and I’ll have a think about it.’ He winked at Stephen. ‘We’ve this lad’s future to think about.’

  They talked for an hour or so and agreed to meet again. Mike said he’d talk to Aaron and Ethan said he’d go to his father and Len with the proposals. They’d both agreed they would need to raise some capital, as even with the sale of shares and smacks there wouldn’t be enough. But they had a good basis for going ahead and Mike was not only interested in the scheme but struck by this young man’s enthusiasm, and said he would look into what vessels were available. There were many ship-building companies in the Humber district of Brough, Hessle and Beverley; they wouldn’t be able to afford to buy new but Ethan said he knew someone in the boat-building business who could also advise them.

  As he said this, he wondered if Tom Marshall, Jeannie’s brother, would be interested in the venture, but he instantly dismissed the idea. Tom was getting married soon and wouldn’t want to risk the money he earned.

  The two men shook hands and Mike walked back with them to where the smack was tied up. It was a smart vessel, he saw, well trimmed and spotless. Obviously didn’t do much fishing now, and he wondered how Ethan could afford to keep such a luxury. Few fishermen sailed for pleasure only. It wasn’t a pastime but a means of earning a living.

  He stood with his arms folded as Stephen unhooked the painter and Ethan prepared to cast off, instructing Stephen, telling him to watch and learn. He heard him tell his young brother that once they were out of the Humber, beyond Spurn and in sea water, then he could take the helm. Good lad, he thought. The sandbanks in the Humber were treacherous and not for a beginner.

  As Ethan got under way, Mike called to him. ‘I know a Scarborough girl. She lives on Hessle Road.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ Ethan called back. ‘What’s she like?’

  ‘Lovely!’ Mike said. ‘Rich brown hair, beautiful smile. Married, though, with a bairn.’

  He saw Ethan take in a breath of air before saying, ‘Lucky man!’

  Mike nodded. ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you?’ and lifted his hand in farewell.

  Stephen watched and learned but kept quiet as his brother followed the pilot boat and rounded the Spurn Head sandbanks into the wide reaches of the North Sea – which their father often referred to as the German Ocean – and headed for home.

  ‘Ethan!’ he called. ‘You know what Mr Gardiner said about that Scarborough girl?’

  ‘Er – yep?’

  ‘Well, do you think it might have been Jeannie Marshall he was talking about?’

  ‘Don’t know. Here – we’ve a fair wind. Come for’ard and you can sail for home.’

  ‘Can I?’ Stephen moved for’ard eagerly. ‘But do you think it could have been? Jeannie, I mean?’

  ‘No idea. Might have been.’

  ‘Well, she went to live in Hull.’ Stephen fixed his position. ‘She got married, and her ma said she’d had a babby.’

  ‘Did she? Watch what you’re doing, helmsman. Concentrate. These are tricky waters just outside the Humber.’

  ‘I know,’ Stephen said. ‘I’m onny asking. It’d be good if it was her, wouldn’t it? I’d like to see her again. I liked Jeannie. I like her ma as well. I wish Da would marry her.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Stephen. Keep your eyes keen. Keep her running.’ But even as he chastised his young brother he knew he was talking to a born seaman. Stephen had a natural affinity with the ship and the sea.

  ‘You know what I think, Ethan?’ Stephen said, his eye and his hands steady. ‘I think you were sweet on Jeannie and that’s why you don’t want to talk about her. Cos she left you and married somebody else.’

  ‘Is that what you think? What a wise man you are.’ Ethan stood behind him. ‘Well, I can tell you that you’re sailing close to the wind; so trim your sails, sailor, and get us safe home.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  JEANNIE DIDN’T FEEL well with this pregnancy, unlike when she was carrying Jack. She put it down to not having such nourishing food. Nan had always cooked and made sure that Jeannie ate well. Now she didn’t always feel like cooking just for herself once Connie had left. She felt tired most of the time and it was an effort for her to make a fire in the morning; it hardly ever stayed on all night no matter how she packed it with slack before going to bed.

  The days were longer and brighter, but the sun’s warmth seemed to intensify the odours of fis
h and its by-products, making her feel more nauseous day by day. And she was constantly anxious about the lack of money. Mike and Charlie occasionally brought her nets to work on, which she eagerly accepted. Charlie’s were often torn to shreds and difficult to mend, and she knew she did not charge him as much as she should; but she knew too that he was short of money as well – he must have been or he would have bought new nets.

  Mike confided to her that he and Aaron were joining in with some other fishermen to form a company. ‘It’ll be make or break,’ he told her.

  She wondered if Harry knew about it and if there would be any work for him, but when she asked, Mike said not.

  ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it, Jeannie,’ he said, and she wondered why he had told her if it was such a secret. ‘And Harry’s better off with ’Humber Steam Company. It’s very stable and there’s no knowing if ours will be. We’re all tekkin’ a chance.’

  ‘How many of you?’ she asked.

  ‘Six so far, unless we can get a couple more.’

  Jeannie smiled. ‘I’d join you if I had some capital, Mike, but I’ve barely enough even for the essentials.’

  He put his head to one side. ‘Harry’s in regular work, isn’t he? Still bringing his wages home?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she lied, ‘but it doesn’t seem to go far.’

  In truth Harry always seemed to be short when he came home. He tipped out his pockets but always gathered some of it back and went off to meet his mates. There were occasions when he didn’t return until the following day, and he never said where he’d been.

  She had confronted him, telling him she’d been worried and had hardly slept, knowing that the door was open. He’d got over that issue by having another key cut, telling her that she could now lock the door and go to bed without being anxious that someone would break in.

  ‘That’s not the point, Harry,’ she said imploringly. ‘Why don’t you come home?’

  ‘I telled you afore,’ he blustered. ‘I don’t want you to get upset if I don’t allus come home of a night.’

  ‘But I am upset!’ she wept. ‘Where do you go when you don’t come home?’

  He shook his head, and then said, ‘Don’t cry. I don’t want you to cry, Jeannie. It’s my fault, I know, but that’s ’way it is.’

  She held back a sob. ‘You can’t leave me alone, Harry. How will I live? How will I know when you’ll be here and when you won’t? What if I hear that your ship is in and you haven’t been home?’

  He leaned on the table, putting his head in his hands. ‘I’d come home, Jeannie,’ he said in a muffled voice. ‘Except that it isn’t home any more. Home was where Nan was. She allus looked out for me.’

  She put her hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ll look out for you, Harry. Give me a chance and we’ll have a good life together. But I can’t do it alone,’ she whispered, ‘and I’m alone most of the time now that Connie’s gone.’

  He sniffled and rubbed his nose. ‘You’ve got ’bairn for company,’ he said.

  ‘He can’t talk, Harry. There’s no conversation!’ She was suddenly struck by an idea. ‘You don’t like this house, do you? Well, neither do I. Shall I look for somewhere else? Perhaps a room in a shared house. It would be less rent and I’d have company when you were away. Would you agree to that?’

  He breathed heavily as if he’d been running. ‘Aye, mebbe. You mean summat like Connie’s got?’

  Jeannie paused and swallowed. She hadn’t seen Connie’s room. Harry, as if he was suddenly aware of what he had said, added, ‘I met her out on ’road. She said she’d got a nice room.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘One like that. But how would you find me if I moved?’

  He considered. ‘Tell Mrs Norman,’ he said, ‘and she can tell Billy. I’ll see him at ’Wassand.’

  After he’d sailed she made it her priority to look for somewhere else to live. She would be glad to get away from this run-down street and derelict housing. On her wanderings one day she called on Mrs Norman, who invited her in. Over a cup of tea, Jeannie told her about her search.

  ‘I don’t like the area, Mrs Norman,’ she said. ‘I never see anybody. People round there don’t seem to go out much. I’d like to be among people, so I can get to know them.’

  Mrs Norman nodded. ‘Well, I did wonder,’ she said. ‘But I knew you wanted summat smaller and less rent so I thought it would fit ’bill. And then, Connie was stopping wi’ you.’ She eyed Jeannie. ‘But not your sort o’ place, is it?’

  ‘No.’ Jeannie had a catch in her voice. ‘Mrs Norman, if I found somewhere, could I ask you a favour?’

  ‘Aye, you can ask.’

  ‘It’s just that I need to work. There doesn’t seem to be a need for braiders. The fishermen and their wives do it. Mike Gardiner and Charlie bring me their nets sometimes, but it’s not enough, so I’d get a job at a smoke house, or filleting fish, if I didn’t have Jack. I wonder, would you consider looking after him if I got a part-time job? I’d pay, of course.’

  Mrs Norman considered, playing her fingers against her lips as she did so. ‘What about ’babby you’re carrying? You shouldn’t be heaving fish boxes about when you’re pregnant.’

  ‘I know.’ Jeannie bent her head. ‘But I don’t know what else to do. There just isn’t enough money to make ends meet.’

  Mrs Norman sighed. ‘There nivver is. I’ll think about it,’ she said. ‘But I’ve to think about my other work – my young mothers, you know, they rely on me.’

  ‘I know,’ Jeannie said. ‘As I will when it’s my time.’

  ‘What about Harry?’ Mrs Norman asked abruptly. ‘What does he think about you working when you’ve got a babby and another one expected?’

  ‘Harry!’ Jeannie gave a shrug. ‘I don’t think he cares one way or another.’

  Mrs Norman found her a room in Strickland Street only a few doors from her own house. An elderly widow, Mrs Herbert, lived in it and didn’t use her front room. She said that Jeannie could have it with the use of the scullery for one shilling and sixpence a week.

  It was clean but fusty from the lack of use, but Mrs Norman said that once fires were lit it would soon air and warm up. Jeannie was delighted, and very grateful to her for such a quick response.

  ‘She’ll be glad of ’company, I expect,’ Mrs Norman said. ‘Owd lass gets a bit dowly living on her own.’

  Billy helped Jeannie move; Mrs Norman offered his services, for he had left the sea and taken a job as a carpenter on the docks. He came on a Sunday with a handcart, making several trips to move her furniture and the braiding frame, although she was doubtful if she would ever get the use from it.

  Mrs Herbert was deaf, very thin and undernourished, and Jeannie guessed that her rent money was a blessing to her. She told Jeannie that she hadn’t thought she was allowed to sublet but that Mrs Norman had assured her it would be all right to do so. She told Jeannie that her husband and son had been lost at sea and she was wholly dependent on money from a seamen’s charity fund. Just as Nan had been.

  ‘I don’t want to finish up in ’workhouse with folk I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’ve lived on ’road all my life and I’d like to die here.’

  Jeannie fervently hoped that she wouldn’t die yet. She seemed quite a sweet old lady, and besides, it would mean looking for somewhere else to live yet again.

  Harry came home three weeks later, having been directed by Billy to Mrs Herbert’s house. He stepped inside from the front door and looked round. ‘Not a bad place, Jeannie. I reckon you’ll be comfortable here.’

  Jeannie looked at him. ‘We, you mean, Harry. You and me. We’ll be comfortable here.’

  He looked anywhere but at her. ‘How much ’you paying?’

  ‘One and six for the room and use of the scullery,’ she muttered. ‘And then there’s coal to buy. Mrs Herbert uses the coal house so I can only buy it by the bag, which costs more.’

  He put his hand in his pocket and held out a handful of silver. ‘Here
’s ten bob. That’s ’rent for five weeks and a bit over for ’coal.’

  Jeannie took it from him and kept her hand out. ‘And the rest, Harry. I need to eat. Jack needs to be fed.’

  He looked blank. ‘Jack?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Your son Jack! I’ve started him on soft food, pobs and mashed potatoes and such.’

  ‘He won’t eat much, does he?’

  ‘No. But I have to. I’m still feeding him and expecting another. What’s the matter with you, Harry?’ She suddenly lost her temper. ‘There’s food to buy, I have to put money in the gas meter, there’s oil for the lamp … candles. My boots need mending and there’s never enough money to take them to the cobblers.’

  ‘I’ve to buy new gear as well, you know. I need another gansey—’

  ‘Then give me the money for wool and I’ll knit you one,’ she shouted. ‘That’s what fisher wives do; they knit and cook and bake and keep their homes nice for their man’s return, but you’re not giving me a chance to be a proper wife!’

  ‘There’s no need to shout,’ he blustered. ‘I’m doing me best.’

  ‘Your best isn’t good enough,’ she said, utterly deflated. She picked up Jack, who had started to cry. ‘We’ve to do this together or else we’re both the poorer.’

  ‘Tek it then.’ He threw more money on the table. ‘Tek it all. I’m not on shares, you know. My wages are fifteen bob a week less expenses. I shan’t be able to afford to buy a round at ’Wassand now.’

  ‘Then don’t go,’ she pleaded. ‘Stay at home; get to know your son. He hardly knows you, Harry. Is he to grow up wondering who his father is?’

  Harry shrugged and picked up his jacket. ‘He’s too young to know owt yet. Anyway, I’m off out.’

  She stared at him. ‘Will you be back?’

  He shrugged again. ‘Don’t know. Might be. Don’t wait up.’

  She gave a bitter laugh. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, the bed is right there.’ She pointed over her shoulder to where the double bed was pushed up against the wall. Mrs Herbert had left a sideboard and two wooden chairs in the room, saying that she didn’t want to get rid of them in case she should need them at some time. And whereas Jeannie found the sideboard useful for storing food, the room was now crowded with her bed, table and chairs; she’d sold the single bed and chest of drawers but kept the old chest for storage.