The Harbour Girl

by Val Wood

  ‘Was that Nan’s bed?’

  ‘Yes, and the table and chairs.’

  ‘Where’s ’other bed?’

  ‘There wasn’t room for it,’ she said. ‘I had to sell it.’

  ‘That were mine. It were a good bed. How much did you get for it?’

  ‘Not much. Not enough for the first week’s rent.’ She stared at him, daring him to question her further.

  He nodded. ‘Right.’ He turned for the door. ‘You should be all right for a bit, then?’

  Jeannie didn’t answer. What was there to say? It seemed they had run out of anything to say to each other. A chasm as wide as the estuary was between them and she had no hopes of the gap ever closing. How had this happened? What was the cause? Was it her? Were they so very different that their relationship was doomed to failure before it even began?

  Harry it seemed had the answer to that and she was as hurt as if he’d delivered a physical blow. He stood with the door open and chewed on his lip before saying, ‘Thing is, Jeannie – well, trouble is, you know … you’re not one of us.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  JEANNIE APPLIED FOR work at one of the smoke houses, having left Jack with Mrs Norman. They hadn’t any vacancies at present, she was told, but in a way she was relieved for whilst waiting she had seen Connie, who when she saw her had turned her back. She tried another company but was given the same answer. From there she went to the fish quay to enquire if there were any vacancies for fish filleters.

  The foreman had looked at her and said, ‘Well, there might be, but are you carrying a bairn?’

  When she hadn’t answered, he said. ‘Why don’t you come after you’ve had it, eh? Get somebody to mind it while you’re at work. Is it your first?’

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Well then! Is your husband not in work?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He’s a trawler man.’

  ‘You shouldn’t need to be doing this then, should you? Not wi’ another bairn on ’way.’

  ‘No.’ She heaved a breath as she turned away. ‘I shouldn’t.’

  There was no other work option open to her, and to fill the days and empty weeks, when she didn’t walk into town to continue her exploration of it, she took to walking westward along Hessle Road, past St Andrew’s Dock and the Dairycoates locomotive sheds, and along the banks of the estuary in the direction of the town of Hessle. She never did manage to walk as far as Hessle, as Jack was getting much heavier and the ground was too rough to push his cart.

  Some days she felt very alone and extremely depressed; she had sold her wedding dress that her mother had struggled to buy, but there was barely anything left of that money and the coal bucket was almost empty. She lived on porridge and fed Jack with the milky pobs of bread and milk. On one particular Sunday, whilst walking, when Jack was grizzling and she felt very tired, she wondered what the point of her life was. The brown waters of the estuary looked deep and comforting and a heavy swell seemed to be beckoning her, but she looked down at Jack in her arms and he stopped his crying and gave her a wide toothless smile which lifted her heart, and she knew she had to find the strength and stamina to carry on.

  ‘There has to be more to life than this, Jack,’ she told him, and he patted her face in response. ‘But I couldn’t leave you behind or take you with me on such an unknown journey; that would be too cruel.’ She turned her back on the drowning undertow of a watery grave and set off back home.

  There was little left of the once rural countryside, where the village of Dairycoates was now a distant memory, replaced by the clang and whistle of the railway, but here and there were the remains of an open field which had yet to be built on, and it was on one of these that she saw Billy crouched on the ground, examining something.

  ‘Hello, Billy,’ she called. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m digging for worms.’ He grinned. ‘I thought I might go fishing.’

  She smiled and walked towards him. ‘Do you miss it?’

  He shook his head. ‘I miss seeing my mates, but I don’t miss being out on a rough sea on a cold wet Sunday with a tide running high and no chance of getting warm and dry.’ He held up a can of worms. ‘This kind of fishing suits me better.’ He scrutinized her. ‘Where’ve you been?’

  ‘Just walking,’ she said. ‘Passing the time.’

  He blinked a little and looked away and then said awkwardly, ‘It’s a nice day for walking, or fishing.’

  She cast around for any reason why he should be embarrassed, but could think of none, so said, ‘Well, I’d better be off. This young fellow will be wanting some food. He’s got a goodly appetite. I’ve started him on fish.’

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Let him get a taste for it. I’m going that way. Shall I tek him?’

  ‘Oh, yes, please!’ She handed Jack over to him. ‘Are you not going fishing today?’

  ‘No, I’m going to feed these worms and fatten ’em up and mebbe go out one night.’ He hitched Jack on to one arm and held the can with the other hand.

  They walked in silence for a while, and then Jeannie said, ‘Haven’t you got a sweetheart to see on a Sunday, Billy?’

  He gave a shy grin. ‘I did have, but she fell out wi’ me.’

  ‘Did she? Why was that?’ The more Jeannie got to know Billy the more she liked his openness and genuine friendly manner.

  ‘I blotted my copybook,’ he said. ‘You remember when we came to Scarborough that day and you met Harry?’

  How could I ever forget, she thought, recalling that sunny day when Harry had stood in front of her as she mended the nets, but she just nodded and gave a murmur of assent.

  ‘Well, she took umbrage at that, said we’d gone looking for girls.’ He pulled a wry expression. ‘We had, but onny larkin’ about really. Nowt happened, but she didn’t believe me. She hasn’t spoken to me since.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Do you still care for her?’

  ‘Aye, but there are other difficulties as well. Her – erm – family don’t think I’m good enough for her.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Jeannie sympathized. ‘Life isn’t always easy, is it? Billy,’ she said on a sudden whim. ‘I’d like to ask you something.’

  He nodded. ‘Ask away.’

  She swallowed. ‘When Harry came home a few weeks ago, just after I’d moved to Strickland Street, we had a quarrel, and he said – he said that – well, what he meant was that I didn’t belong here. He said, “The trouble is, you’re not one of us.” Those were the words he used and I wondered if they were true. When I first came he used to tell people that I was a Scarborough girl, which I am, but I thought that now I was the same as everybody else. I’m from a fishing family, just the same as he is.’

  Billy whistled through his teeth. ‘I can’t believe he said that. What made him say that? What’s ’matter wi’ him? He’s talking rubbish.’ He glanced down at her. ‘Everybody who lives on Hessle Road migrated from somewhere else at one time, or at least their families did, and not only from Hull. My grandparents came from Ramsgate and my ma’s family from Whitby. That must have been one heck of a row you had,’ he added. ‘What was it about, or shouldn’t I ask?’

  ‘Money, of course. Or at least not enough of it.’

  ‘But he’s in regular work; he’ll be getting a decent wage. What is he? Mate? Third hand? He’ll get a share of ’settling either way.’

  Jeannie hesitated. Harry had told her he wasn’t on shares. Was he lying or had he taken whatever position he was offered? He had enough experience under his belt to be second hand, but he’d told her that he earned less than fifteen shillings. Did that mean he was fourth and hadn’t told her?

  ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I’ll ask him when he gets home. His ship is due in any day.’

  It was the non reply, the sudden silence that descended as she spoke, that made her turn to face Billy.

  ‘What?’ she said. ‘Have you heard? Are they coming upriver already?’

  Billy didn’t an
swer, but only pressed his lips together and shook his head as if in disbelief. Jack grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled.

  ‘Billy!’ she said. ‘What? Have they docked already?’

  ‘Ow! Yes,’ he said reluctantly. ‘Yesterday.’

  * * *

  She hurried back, wanting to be at home when he eventually arrived. Billy carried Jack all the way, seeing her right to her door and silently handing Jack over to her. Harry hadn’t got a key; she’d told him she would have another one cut, which she had, and she’d left it on the mantelpiece. Mrs Herbert would have let him in, she thought, or at least I hope she would; he’ll have something to say if he can’t get in. But where’s he been? Had he docked too late for him to come home last night? She knew in her heart that wasn’t true and hadn’t questioned Billy any further. If Harry had arrived late why hadn’t he come home this morning? She was simply clutching at straws, hoping that her worst fears would not be realized.

  She built up the fire, made onion soup, put potatoes under the coals to bake for dinner, fed Jack and straightened the bedcover, then gazed round the room and thought it looked as welcoming as she could possibly make it. By five o’clock she was still waiting and wrung out with anxiety.

  Perhaps Billy was wrong. Perhaps Harry’s ship hadn’t docked. Billy didn’t say that he’d seen Harry. Maybe only part of the fleet had arrived and the rest was on its way upriver now. He’d be home soon and they’d sort out their problems. But seven o’clock came and she knew it was too late; already the tide would have turned and there would be no ships docking until the morning.

  Jeannie began to feel a slow-burning anger. Short of a disaster, which she would have heard about, she was convinced that Billy was telling the truth; he wouldn’t have any reason to lie to her. Now, when she thought about his obvious discomfort, she realized that he was as shocked as she was.

  She dampened down the fire, lifted the sleeping Jack from his drawer and wrapped him in another blanket, draped her shawl over them both and went out.

  It was Sunday evening and the numerous churches and chapels had emptied of their congregations; the most pious had gone home to their supper or to a coffee house, and the rest of the population seemed to be visiting inns, beer houses, hostelries and public houses, of which there were many.

  As Jeannie stepped out of Strickland Street on to Hessle Road she was greeted by an oncoming crowd who swarmed along the footpaths and in the middle of the thoroughfare, dodging the horse trams and waggonettes that careered along the road. She stopped to watch. A ship must have come in earlier, or maybe two or three, for she could see that many of the men were fishermen; not by their mode of dress – for these men had changed out of their heavy seagoing gear and were wearing their best jackets and trousers, waistcoats and bowlers – but by their jaunty air, carefree manner and, above all, comradeship as they walked with arms about each other’s shoulders, intent on making the most of their short time ashore.

  There were some women there too, though Jeannie hazarded a guess that few of them were wives. These women were like the scavenging herring gulls, she thought, meeting every ship so that they might have a share in the feast, their partiality being gin or port.

  As she watched, something, some instinct, made her turn her head. In the middle of a crowd on the opposite side of the road was Harry, and clinging to his arm was Connie. He was laughing at some remark that another man had made, and she froze. How could he laugh? How could he be with Connie when she, his wife, had been waiting at home with his son?

  She crossed over at an angle so that she would be ahead of him, and hardly thinking what she was doing she stood in the road, facing the oncoming crowd, and put out her hand.

  ‘Help me, sir,’ she begged. ‘I’m waiting for my husband’s ship to come in. Help me, please. I’ve no money to buy food for my bairn or coal for a fire.’

  A young man stopped. He’d be no more than sixteen, she thought, and was already merry with drink. ‘What’ll you do for a penny?’ he slurred. He stepped towards her and she flinched. ‘Come on, darling,’ he continued, ‘what’ll you do?’

  ‘Give over, Isaac,’ another man shouted at him. ‘Leave ’lass be.’ He came towards her. ‘What ship is your man on? Or are you on ’game?’

  Jeannie felt sick with shame; what had she done? ‘No game,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘I’ve got a bairn here and another on the way. I thought he’d be home, but his ship’s not come in. Harry,’ she said. ‘Harry Carr. Do you know him?’

  The man stared at her. ‘Harry Carr? Yes, I know him. We’re on ’same ship.’ He looked about him. ‘Has anybody seen Harry Carr? This is his wife, or says she is!’

  A woman pushed forward. She was older than some of the other women and was with an older man who might have been her husband.

  ‘Yeh, she is. You’re from Scarborough, aren’t you? I saw you wi’ Nan a couple of times.’ She turned round, searching the crowd. ‘I’ve seen Harry not five minutes since.’

  A murmur swept through the crowd, the numbers of which seemed to be increasing – a murmuring question of ‘Where’s Harry Carr?’

  And then there he was with a silly grin on his face which was wiped off when he saw Jeannie confronting him.

  ‘Jeannie! Ah, I was just on me way.’ He looked down at Connie, unsure it seemed how to explain her presence, but Connie had no such qualms as she clung to Harry’s arm.

  ‘Hiya, Jeannie.’ She chewed on her lip. ‘I heard you’d flitted again.’

  Jeannie didn’t even look at her, but kept her gaze on Harry. ‘I’m sorry you had to catch me like this, Harry,’ she said witheringly. ‘But I haven’t any money for food or coal. You remember you left me the rent. I’ve tried to get work but nobody will take me on with a bairn and pregnant with another.’

  There were mutterings in the crowd and Harry began to bluster. ‘I was just coming. I’ve onny just docked.’

  ‘Liar!’ A voice shouted above the hubbub. ‘You docked last night. Where’ve you been since then?’ It was Billy who came from out of the crowd. Billy, Harry’s best friend, his former shipmate, coming forward to tell the truth about him.

  ‘He’s been wi’ his fancy piece,’ a woman shouted. ‘I’ve seen ’em together. Can’t get your own man, can you, Connie Turnby, so you pinch somebody else’s?’

  Jeannie thought for a moment that the incident was going to turn nasty as both Harry and Connie were berated by the crowd, but in a moment a man thrust his bowler at her. ‘Here, missis,’ he said. ‘We’ve just had a whip-round. There’ll be enough to buy a bucket o’ coal and some bread for ’morning.’ He nodded sagely. ‘I think you’ll find that Harry turns his pockets out when he gets home.’

  She started to weep. ‘Thank you,’ she cried. ‘Thank you so much.’ She held out a corner of her shawl and he tipped the contents of the bowler into it.

  Billy appeared at her side. ‘I’ll tek you home, Jeannie,’ he said, ‘and wait till Harry comes, just in case—’

  ‘He’d not hurt me, Billy.’ She put the coins in her skirt pocket and wiped her eyes on the shawl. ‘He’s never been violent.’

  ‘No, an’ he’s nivver bin shamed in front of his shipmates afore. An’ as for Connie – well, what are ’lasses at ’fish house going to think when they hear? So I’ll wait, if that’s all right wi’ you.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  HARRY HADN’T COME by nine o’clock and Billy stood up to leave.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jeannie, but I’ll have to go. I don’t want anybody chinwagging that I stayed all night. Will Mrs Herbert still be up?’

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ Jeannie said wearily. ‘She generally looks in before she goes to bed.’

  ‘In that case I’ll go in and say goodnight.’ He put on his coat and knocked on the kitchen door.

  ‘You’ll have to knock louder than that. She’s deaf,’ Jeannie told him, so he gave a sharp rat-a-tat with his knuckles.

  ‘I’m going, Mrs Herbert,’ he called. ‘I’ve
bin waiting for Harry, but he’s not turned up. Will you lock up after me? Jeannie’s feeling badly; I think she’s worried about Harry.’

  Mrs Herbert shuffled through in her slippers. ‘He’ll surely not come now. You’d best get to bed,’ she said to Jeannie, who sat in the chair by the fire, her face pale and drawn.

  ‘Thank you, Billy,’ Jeannie said. ‘I appreciate your staying and your support. I – I really don’t want to come between your friendship with Harry. It isn’t fair – you’ve known each other so long.’

  ‘Aye, we have; doesn’t mean to say it’s allus been plain sailing, though.’ He looked anxiously at her. ‘You sure you’re all right? Shall I ask Ma to drop in to see you in ’morning?’

  Jeannie shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine, thank you, Billy.’ She smiled, though she wanted to weep. ‘Good night.’

  How thoughtful he was, she thought as she climbed into her lonely bed. She gave a deep sigh. I’m so tired, and I don’t feel all that well. I never thought that Harry and Connie— How long has that been going on? Since she moved out, or before then? I suspect she’s always been sweet on Harry, but I thought she’d become my friend.

  She spent a restless night and woke the following morning feeling more tired and nauseous than the night before and with an aching back. Jack was grizzling and whiny and fisting his wet mouth.

  ‘Poor bairn,’ she soothed. ‘Have you got sore gums?’ She ran her fingers inside his mouth, feeling for the emerging sharp new teeth, and he bit and gnawed on them. ‘When your da comes I’ll buy some oil of cloves to rub on them,’ she murmured. ‘He’ll surely come today and bring us some money.’

  She gave a grimace as she was struck with a sudden grip of pain in her back and abdomen. She put Jack back into the middle of the bed and folded a blanket at his back to raise him. Then she took a breath as another pain assailed her.