The Harbour Girl

by Val Wood

  ‘Ah!’ She gave a gasp. What’s this? I shouldn’t have lifted the coal bucket. Or maybe it’s because of carrying Jack last night. He’s getting so heavy, though with what I can’t think. I’m sure he’s not feeding as well as he should be. Her milk was drying up and she was supplementing the child’s food with oatmeal porridge and sometimes giving him a carrot to gnaw on.

  ‘Ow! Oh! Something’s not right.’ Tears welled into her eyes as yet another pain tore through her. I’m starting in – no I can’t be, it’s too soon, I’m going to lose the child! ‘Mrs Herbert! Mrs Herbert!’ She leaned over the bed. She can’t hear me!

  She waited a moment for the pain to subside and then, holding on to the chair, the table, the sideboard, she eased her way to the kitchen door, but stopped as Jack began to wail.

  ‘Wait, Jack, wait for a minute. I’m coming.’ She half turned to pacify him and almost fell as an attack of dizziness struck her, making her reel.

  ‘Mrs Herbert!’ she called again, staggering to the door. ‘Help me!’

  But as she opened the door into Mrs Herbert’s kitchen she saw that there was a guard against the damped down fire and remembered that it was Monday, the day when Mrs Herbert went out early, hoping to buy cheap bread and meat that the baker and butcher might have left over from the previous week.

  What am I to do? I’d better lie down; keep still and maybe I won’t lose the baby. ‘Jack! Please stop crying!’ She got back into bed, hugging him to her and putting him to her breast to console him, pulling the blanket over both of them.

  The pain lessened and Jack dropped off to sleep and cautiously she eased herself out of bed and to the front door, unlocking it in case Harry came home. She didn’t want him to arrive and find the door closed against him.

  She went slowly through Mrs Herbert’s room into the small scullery beyond and reached into the cupboard for the oats to make porridge for her and Jack. As she reached up, she felt a razor-sharp pain in the pit of her belly, so cutting that she retched. She turned and leaned on the small table, her fists clenched and her eyes screwed up as she fought to control the pain.

  As it subsided, she half filled a pan with water, picked up the bag of oats and staggered back into her own room, only to feel wetness on her thighs and trickling down her legs to her bare feet. She lifted her shift and looked down and, with a rising sense of distress and disbelief, saw the blood.

  How long Jeannie had been lying in the middle of the floor she had no idea. It could have been hours or only a few minutes, but when she opened her bleary eyes she saw a figure kneeling beside her and heard Jack crying; as her vision cleared she saw a fair head and blue eyes gazing anxiously at her.

  ‘Lie still. I’ve been round to Mrs Norman’s,’ Rosie said softly. ‘She’s on her way. It’s lucky I came. I’m on my dinner break.’

  ‘What …’ Jeannie tried to sit up. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ Rosie said, gently pushing her back to the floor, and Jeannie realized she was gripping Rosie’s hand. ‘I’d heard what went on last night wi’ Harry and Connie and thought I’d come and see if you were all right.’ She let out a breath. ‘I found you all of a heap. At first, when I saw all ’blood, I thought somebody had attacked you. I rushed round to fetch Mrs Norman.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jeannie whispered. ‘Thank you. Have I miscarried?’

  ‘Can’t say,’ Rosie said. ‘I don’t know about these things. There’s a lot o’ blood.’

  Mrs Norman bustled in through the front door. ‘What’s happened? Billy said you looked peaky when he came in last night. I’d have been here earlier but I’ve had two births and a death already this morning.’ She knelt at the side of Rosie. ‘Looks like a miscarry here.’

  Rosie got to her feet. ‘Well, if you don’t need me any more I’ll be off.’

  ‘Do you have to go?’ Jeannie said. ‘Oh – of course. You’ve to get back to work.’

  ‘Help me first, will you?’ Mrs Norman said. ‘Put ’bairn in his cot an’ then help me lift Jeannie into bed, then I’ll clean this lot up.’ She shifted Jeannie into a sitting position. ‘You’ve lost ’babby, I’m sorry to say.’

  Jeannie felt as weak and limp as a wet rag and allowed herself to be hoisted up into the bed, where Mrs Norman, who must have come prepared, had draped an old sheet over the blanket.

  She saw Mrs Norman glance at Rosie and heard her mutter, ‘You don’t have to leave on my account, you know.’

  ‘I’m not,’ Rosie said. ‘I don’t want to be in ’way, that’s all.’

  ‘You’re not in my way,’ Mrs Norman answered sharply. ‘And if you hadn’t turned up when you did, this lass might’ve died. Now how about putting ’kettle on and mekking her some cocoa if there is any, and for heaven’s sake give that bairn summat to eat an’ stop him bawlin’.’

  ‘I think he’s teething,’ Jeannie murmured, and in her weakened state, tears and sorrow succumbed to Mrs Norman’s administrations whilst Rosie made cocoa and comforted and fed Jack, who finally gave her a chuckle and a smile, showing her his pink gums and two tips of white enamel.

  Rosie left to go back to work but promised to return at the end of the day. ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘I’ll lose ’wages if I’m late, but I’ll be back after six. Can I fetch anything in?’ she asked Mrs Norman.

  ‘Eggs,’ the midwife replied, ‘and milk.’

  ‘I – I don’t have any money for eggs,’ Jeannie said lamely, feeling inadequate and exhausted.

  ‘It’s all right. I’ll lend you it,’ Rosie said, surprisingly. ‘You can pay me back when you’ve got it.’

  ‘I don’t know when that’ll be,’ Jeannie said hoarsely after Rosie had gone. ‘Do you know if anybody’s seen Harry?’

  ‘Don’t let’s worry about Harry right now,’ Mrs Norman said grimly. ‘He’ll get his comeuppance if he doesn’t watch out. Billy’s on ’warpath an’ so are some of his other mates. Now then, I’m going to tek this bairn home wi’ me so you can have an hour or two’s rest. I’ll leave a note for Mrs Herbert that you’re in bed and to keep an eye on you, and to fetch me if she thinks you’re badly. Are you quite comfortable?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. I just feel very tired.’

  ‘Aye, well no wonder. But you’ll soon be right as rain. You’re made of strong stuff an’ there’ll be plenty more babbies to come, don’t worry about that.’

  Jeannie closed her eyes and heard the door close. She gave a deep sigh. But not Harry’s babies, she thought. That’s over, but I don’t want to think about that right now.

  She must have slept for several hours, for she awoke only when she heard the rattle of coals as Mrs Herbert mended the fire and tiptoed out again. The next time she awoke, Rosie was standing over her with Jack in her arms.

  ‘How you feelin’ now?’ Rosie asked. Jack put out his arms to Jeannie to come into bed with her.

  Jeannie kissed the top of his head. ‘Better,’ she said. ‘Thank you very much, Rosie. I don’t – I can’t bear to think what would have happened if you hadn’t come in.’

  ‘Ah, well!’ Rosie shrugged. ‘I’m sorry you lost ’bairn.’

  Jeannie looked pensive. ‘Not meant to be, was it? That’s what my ma would’ve said.’ She began to cry. ‘Who knows what kind of life it would have had – any of us will have. Harry doesn’t want me, Rosie,’ she sobbed. ‘He said he didn’t. He only married me because Nan said he should.’

  Rosie sighed. She drew up a chair next to the bed and sat down. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I knew it wouldn’t last. Harry’s not ’marrying kind.’ She gave a shake of her head. ‘That’s why – that’s why I never got close to you. I knew it’d be a flash in ’pan wi’ Harry and – well, I thought that you’d finish up going back to Scarborough.’

  ‘I thought it was because you didn’t like me, because …’ She tried to recall what Connie had told her. ‘Connie said …’

  Rosie gave a wry grimace. ‘Don’t tek any notice of what Connie says. She lies most of ’time. She
meks up all sorts o’ things. She has such a miserable life she has to invent a different one.’

  Jeannie pulled herself up to a sitting position and tucked Jack close to her. ‘Isn’t it true about her father and your mother, then? And about her uncle beating her?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Rosie nodded. ‘Both those things are true. But she could have left and got a room or lodgings, except she never had ’backbone to strike out on her own. Connie’s only aim in life has been to have Harry. But she knew Nan wouldn’t allow him anywhere near her. She was devastated when she heard he was going to marry somebody else.’

  She pondered for a moment. ‘Harry’s my brother and I care for him; but I know he’s weak. He’s just like our da. I can say that now that Nan’s gone cos she thought ’sun shone out of his backside. Onny it didn’t, and that’s why my ma went off wi’ Connie’s father. They’re all right together. Ma writes to me at Auntie Dot’s. They’re a proper family.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to live with them?’ Jeannie thought of what both Connie and Nan had said about Rosie’s mother.

  Rosie smiled. ‘No. Auntie Dot never had any children, but she’s allus treated me as if I was a daughter. When my mother first went she said that she’d send for me as soon as she was settled, but by ’time she was I wanted to stay wi’ Auntie Dot. You should come and meet her. She’s nice; you’d like her. She’s nothing like Nan. Nan was very hard on her when she was young and jealous when she married into money. They live on ’Boulevard. They’ve got a lovely house.’

  The Boulevard didn’t mean anything to Jeannie although she had passed the end of it on her walks and always meant to turn down the tree-lined avenue one day. ‘I’d like to come and meet her,’ she said. ‘If she wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘She wouldn’t,’ Rosie told her. ‘She keeps asking, but …’ She hesitated. ‘You and Connie were as thick as thieves so I never asked.’

  ‘I was sorry for her,’ Jeannie murmured. ‘Everybody seemed against her.’

  ‘They weren’t.’ Rosie shook her head. ‘Onny Nan was, but Connie has a chip on her shoulder an’ thought everybody was. But they are now! All ’lasses at work are dead set against her after what happened wi’ you and her and Harry. All of ’road is talking about it.’

  ‘I see,’ Jeannie said softly. ‘It was awful. I felt so humiliated. If it hadn’t been for Billy …’ She saw a sudden inexplicable tightening of Rosie’s expression. ‘He was really kind and helped me home. He asked me if he should get his mother to call but I said no. I was wrong; I should have said yes. False pride, I suppose.’

  ‘Oh!’ Rosie muttered. ‘Is that what Mrs Norman meant? About Billy saying you looked peaky?’

  ‘Yes.’ Enlightenment flooded through Jeannie. So it was Rosie who had been Billy’s sweetheart and had been angry with him about his visit to Scarborough. ‘He’s such a good man, isn’t he? Some lass is going to be lucky to catch him one day.’ She lowered her voice confidentially. ‘He told me that he’d been sweet on a girl but she’d given him the brush-off because she thought he’d been chasing other women, except he hadn’t. I expect it was only Harry who had done that, cos that was the time when Harry and I met.’

  ‘Oh,’ Rosie murmured. ‘So he isn’t seeing anybody else, then? I mean – I haven’t heard that he is and usually everybody knows what’s going on along ’road.’

  Before Jeannie could answer someone knocked on the front door and Jeannie slid down into the bed. ‘Do you think that’s Harry?’ she whispered. ‘If it is, will you stay, Rosie? I don’t want to see him by myself.’

  Rosie nodded and went to the door. Jeannie heard low voices, and then Rosie came back in.

  ‘It’s not Harry. It’s Billy, and he’s brought a message from Harry – and some money.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  ‘TELL HIM TO come in, Rosie.’ Jeannie covered her shoulders with her shawl. ‘I think I’m respectable.’

  ‘Course you are,’ Rosie said, and going back to the door she invited Billy in.

  ‘I, erm …’ Billy shuffled his feet. ‘Sorry you’re not well, Jeannie.’ His cheeks were red and he chewed on his lips. ‘I’ve, erm, I’ve just had a set-to wi’ Harry. Found him at ’Dairycoates Inn; he’s not going in ’Wassand at ’minute cos nobody’ll talk to him. He’s sailing in ’morning so I made him empty his pockets.’ He fished in his own pocket and put a pile of coins on the table. ‘That’s all he had left, but it’s better than nowt.’

  ‘So – he won’t be coming to see me before he leaves?’ Jeannie asked. ‘Does he know I’ve miscarried?’

  ‘He knows now if he didn’t before, but he’s still not coming. He said would I tell you he’ll come when he gets back from this trip. I don’t think he dares come now.’

  ‘I’m hardly in a fit state to scare him.’ Jeannie’s voice cracked. ‘He might at least have come to say he was sorry. Was Connie with him?’ she asked abruptly.

  Billy looked down. ‘Yeh, she was. I don’t think he can go anywhere without her now. Besides, they’ve nobody else to talk to.’

  ‘It’s a pity you can’t divorce him,’ Rosie chipped in. ‘Like ’toffs do.’

  ‘We promised till death us do part,’ Jeannie said softly. ‘But it doesn’t seem to mean much. At least not to Harry.’

  Rosie and Billy left at the same time, with Billy saying he’d walk along Hessle Road with Rosie, making what Jeannie was sure was an excuse that he was going that way anyway. She got up after they had gone and pottered about slowly, making tea and preparing food for Jack, and after he’d gone to sleep she sat by the fire and pondered on what was in store for her.

  I must make more effort to find work, she thought. It’s not going to come to me. The small amount of money that Harry had sent wouldn’t last any time at all, not once she’d paid the rent. The Fishermen’s Mission provided family assistance in times of bereavement if a fisherman was lost at sea, but Jeannie mused that she’d hardly qualify for consideration just because her husband had decided not to support her and their child.

  There was one option, she thought, cringing at the very idea, and that was to try for assistance from the Poor Law Union which was there to provide a relief fund for those at rock bottom. I can’t! I can’t! The humiliation! I couldn’t bear it. I’d only apply if there was a danger that I couldn’t feed Jack.

  Going out the next day, she shivered. There was a nip in the air, and the screeching of gulls overhead warned of rough weather out on the coast. She bought the cheapest cut of meat and asked the butcher for a bag of marrow bones to make soup. He glanced questioningly at her but made no comment, used, she supposed, to requests like hers. From there she went to the greengrocer for potatoes and carrots and with a sigh of satisfaction knew she had enough food for her and Jack for a week, providing she had enough coal to keep the fire going.

  Later that evening Billy called round with a sackful of wood from the joinery yard and said with a wink that as he brought plenty of wood home most days, his mother wouldn’t miss this. Jeannie was overjoyed and soon had a blaze going; she prepared a large saucepan of beef broth to which she would add a carrot and a potato each day and supplement with the addition of suet dumplings so that they wouldn’t go hungry.

  She spent the next three weeks staying mainly at home to conserve her energy and her money. But then she ran out of coal and wood and potatoes and knew she would have to go out on the road and spend the last of her small cache of coins. Rosie had been to see her twice and seemed more cheerful than usual, and had also brought her a parcel of fish for which she was very thankful. Rosie also repeated that her Auntie Dot was looking forward to seeing her.

  But Jeannie was wary of going just yet. She felt tired after the miscarriage, and shabby, and knew she looked thin and undernourished, which she was sure Rosie’s affluent aunt would notice. Not knowing her, she felt she would either be condescending towards her, or alternatively offer her money which Jeannie was far too proud to accept.

  Her mother had written
saying that she was worried that she hadn’t received a letter or postcard from her recently and hoped that everything was all right. Tom had been disappointed that she hadn’t been able to attend his wedding and Jeannie too had been saddened, but she knew that the train fare to Scarborough was out of her reach. I’ll write, she thought, and tell her that everything is fine, especially since we moved in with Mrs Herbert. No need to bother her by saying that I moved without Harry and that he’s not living with me; Ma would say come home for sure. But I can’t do that, she thought tearfully. I can’t admit that my marriage is a failure.

  Eventually she was persuaded by Rosie to visit her aunt and one Sunday morning she dressed Jack in his warmest clothes and wrapped him in her shawl, which he immediately pulled off. He was already crawling and attempting to walk, and delighting her with his babbling words. Another few weeks and it would be his first birthday and she hoped that Harry would remember it. He was due home at any time and she made a mental note to remind him when he came, as he’d promised.

  Rosie met her out on the road and they took it in turns to carry Jack. He’d grown out of his cart and Jeannie had burned it on the fire one day when she’d run out of wood. I’ll not need it now, she’d thought regretfully. Not now I’ve lost a bairn. There’ll be no more children for me.

  Rosie’s Auntie Dot lived in a large house on the Boulevard. Her husband had founded a successful chandler’s shop at the beginning of the upturn of the fishing industry. The proceeds from this bought him a half share in a smack and then a little later several shares in a smoke house before he sank more cash in a coffee house and a beer shop. He was a man with many interests and irons in several fires. The culmination was the purchase of the house on the Boulevard. He and his wife had no children, and because he was a prudent man they lived, not lavishly, but well.

  It’s a very grand house, Jeannie thought as she followed Rosie up the front steps. The Boulevard was a wide avenue with tall trees which had now shed their leaves but whose bare branches, crowned by black shaggy crows’ nests, stood out majestically against the grey sky. All the houses were substantial and respectable, many of them three-storeyed and elegant.