by Val Wood
When they were all served, Sam raised his glass. ‘To all at our table and our brave lads at sea. God bless us all.’
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Minnie got up to answer it. There was a murmur of voices out in the hall, and Dot called out, ‘Tell whoever it is to come in, Minnie. Your dinner’s getting cold.’
Minnie stood by the dining room door, pressing her lips together, and looked from Dot to Jeannie. ‘It’s Harry Carr, Mrs Greenwood. He’s asking if his wife’s here.’
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
HARRY RAN HIS finger round his shirt neck, clearly embarrassed at arriving as they were eating, but his gaze fell on the groaning table and involuntarily he licked his lips.
‘Would you like to stay to dinner, Harry?’ Dot asked. ‘There’s plenty.’
Jeannie hoped he would say no. She wouldn’t be able to eat with him sitting at the same table and pretending that there was nothing wrong between them. As it was, his sudden appearance had curbed her appetite.
Jack looked up at Harry. He was still gnawing on the parsnip. ‘Na na na na,’ he chortled, holding up the wet and sticky vegetable towards Harry. Harry seemed confused, and clearly had no idea how to respond to the child.
‘He’s offering you some of his dinner, Harry,’ Jeannie said softly. ‘Can you pretend to take a bite?’
Harry gazed blankly at her and gave a shake of his head. ‘I’ll just have a slice o’ meat, Auntie Dot,’ he said. ‘Is it chicken?’
‘No, it’s goose.’ Dot asked Minnie to pass another plate. ‘Would you like some plum sauce on it?’
‘Yes please.’ Harry watched as Sam carved two thick slices of goose and put them on a plate. Everybody else sat with their cutlery suspended over their own meal whilst Harry was served. He sat down at the table next to Minnie, who shuffled up to make room.
‘So, you’re still wi’ Humber Steam ’n’ Fishing, I tek it?’ Sam asked, filling what seemed to Jeannie a long-drawn-out silence. ‘They’re a good company to work for.’
The slightest of wavering on Harry’s part as he paused with his fork to his mouth before answering ‘Yeh’ alerted Jeannie to the fact that he was not telling the truth. He’s not! He’s left or been asked to leave!
‘So when’s your next trip? Are they winter fleeting?’
‘Yeh. I’m, er – I’m not going till ’New Year.’ He said no more until his plate was empty, and then pushed back his chair. ‘That were grand, Auntie Dot; thank you.’
He stood for a moment biting his lip and then looked at Jeannie, who hadn’t touched her meal, and took a breath.
‘I’ll be off now and let you all get on wi’ your Christmas dinner, but I just want to say – well, to thank you really, for havin’ Jeannie and ’bairn here today, cos I don’t know what she would’ve done otherwise. I called round to Strickland Street this morning but I hadn’t got owt planned, so it would’ve been a dowly sort o’ Christmas for her wi’out you.’
He came, Jeannie thought, and I’d already left. But what was his intention? After his outburst yesterday what else had he to say to me?
‘And so, what I want to say,’ he repeated, ‘in front of everybody’ – Harry looked down for a moment before glancing again at Jeannie – ‘is that after ’next trip I’ll try to get myself sorted out. I’ve been a bit lost lately – well, since Nan died, I suppose, an’ trying to get a decent ship an’ all that – but come ’New Year I’ll try to get some kind o’ life together for us; an’ that I’m sorry. Sorry for ’way I’ve behaved, Jeannie. You never deserved any of it.’
There was a momentary silence. Sam cleared his throat, frowning as if he didn’t understand what all that was about. Dot rubbed at her nose. Rosie kept her eyes on Billy, who was staring at his plate, and Minnie continued eating as if she hadn’t heard a word. Bessie’s eyebrows were raised and she wore an expression of inquisitive interest.
Jeannie rose from the table. ‘I’ll see you out, Harry,’ she said, as if she were the mistress of the house and not Dot, and walked out of the room ahead of him.
‘I meant what I said, Jeannie,’ he said in a low voice as she opened the front door. ‘I’ll do me best, but it’s been awkward. You know what I’m saying, don’t you?’
She nodded. It would be awkward with Connie in the threesome. Jeannie sighed. Connie wouldn’t go easily, that was for sure, but that was Harry’s problem and he would have to deal with it, not her.
‘You don’t believe me, do you?’
‘I want to, Harry.’ Her voice trembled. ‘I want to for Jack’s sake as much as yours and mine. I don’t want him to grow up without a father. I had to, and I know it wasn’t easy for my mother to manage alone.’ She swallowed. ‘But after your next trip …’ the solution had come to her only as she thought of her mother’s early struggle with two small children to bring up ‘… if you haven’t sorted out your life and decided who you want to be with …’ her breath was catching in her throat and it was as if a band was tightening round her chest as she tried to hold back her emotion ‘… then I shall leave Hull and go back to Scarborough.’
It was the only answer, she thought as she walked back towards Strickland Street. Billy and Rosie had come part of the way with her until finally, on her insistence that she would be all right now she was on the well-lit Hessle Road, they had turned back. Billy hadn’t made his announcement after all. He said it didn’t seem right, and Jeannie understood that. Harry’s arrival had put a damper on the occasion.
‘But you’ll tell them, won’t you?’ she asked.
Rosie said they’d decided to wait until Bessie had left and Dot and Sam were alone. ‘She’s very nosy,’ Rosie said. ‘And she’d love to be ’first to spread ’news.’
A blizzard of snow came down as Jeannie went on, and Jack crowed with delight as the flakes landed on the pram but disappeared between his mittened hands as he tried to catch them. The sky was heavy with low grey cloud. Dot had said she could stay the night, but as ever Jeannie was afraid of taking any offer for granted, so that if, or more likely when, she was really in need she would feel she could ask for help without being thought to be taking advantage.
Yes, I’ll definitely go home to Scarborough if Harry’s intentions come to nothing, and if Ma doesn’t mind. She’ll help me with Jack, I know she will, and we can work together as we did before and pool our wages.
The fire was still warm when she stepped into her room and she thought that perhaps Harry had put on a piece of coal when he’d called earlier, but in fact it was Mrs Herbert who had done that, as she discovered when she put her head round the door to her room and told her she was back.
‘There’s been a young man looking for you,’ the old lady said. ‘I told him I thought you’d gone to relatives for your dinner.’ She nodded amiably. ‘I put a lump of coal on ’fire, I hope that was all right. Didn’t want you coming home to a cold room.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Herbert, that was kind of you,’ she shouted. ‘It’s very cold out and snowing hard!’
‘Would you like to sit in here?’ Mrs Herbert asked. ‘It’s a bit warmer than in ’front room.’
Jeannie eagerly agreed. It was much warmer. The window at the front was frozen on the inside as well as out and patterned with shapes of iced flowers and leaves. Mrs Herbert had a bright fire glowing in her hearth and the kettle was steaming over it. Jeannie lifted Jack out of his pram and joined her.
‘I’ve been thinking, m’dear,’ Mrs Herbert said. ‘You could live in here wi’ me during ’day and just leave a small fire in your room for bed time. We could share ’expense of ’coal,’ she added, and Jeannie thought there was an appeal in her expression.
It was quite a good idea, she thought. In Mrs Herbert’s middle room a fireplace with a boxed-in grate and an ash can beneath it burned better and warmer and more economically than the one in the front. Two bars across it made it possible to boil a kettle or pan more easily than on her open fire.
‘I’d like that, Mrs Herbert,’ she shouted. �
�It’ll be warmer for Jack.’ She was terrified that he would catch cold, which could so easily turn to pneumonia, and there was no cure for that.
They sat together by Mrs Herbert’s fire. Jack was sleeping in a chair wrapped in a blanket and Jeannie was deep in thought about her future, a future which she felt would not include Harry. She couldn’t envisage their patching up any kind of relationship. Connie was unlikely to let him go, and Harry, who, she admitted, was weak when confronted by emotion, wouldn’t want to upset her. She jumped when Mrs Herbert suddenly stirred herself.
‘I had a visitor,’ she said. ‘After you’d gone out.’
Jeannie nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said loudly. ‘It was my husband, Harry.’
‘No, dear. Not him. My brother.’
Jeannie expressed surprise. She hadn’t known Mrs Herbert had a brother; she’d assumed she was without any relatives.
‘Three brothers and two sisters I had,’ she told her. ‘But onny one brother left. He’s younger than me. He married a woman from across ’river, River Hull that is, and went to live in Marfleet. Haven’t seen him in a long time.’
Jeannie shook her head. She didn’t know where Marfleet was, but she had gleaned from various conversations that ‘across ’river’, although the same town, was akin to a foreign country.
‘Anyway, she died at beginning of ’year and he wants to come back to Hessle Road. He still thinks of it as home, you see, and as he’s no bairns … well, he’s found a house to rent and wants me to go and live wi’ him. Says we’ll be company for each other an’ he doesn’t like to think of me being by m’self.’
Jeannie’s spirits dropped like a stone. She thought that she seemed to stagger from one crisis to another.
‘So I’ve decided that I will,’ Mrs Herbert went on, ‘and what I thought was, when I flit, in ’New Year, then mebbe you could tek over me rent book. I’m not in arrears. What do you think?’
* * *
She didn’t know what to think and tossed and turned in her bed that night as she went over various possibilities. She couldn’t afford the rent for the whole house, that was certain. Perhaps if I found someone else to share with. Or perhaps I could let the upstairs rooms in the summer if they dry out. She had already explored the two bedrooms and found the walls running with water from broken guttering and loose roof tiles, and a strong smell of damp and decay. Mrs Herbert had told her that she’d reported it to the landlord’s agent but he had only shrugged and shaken his head at the impossibility of getting it put right.
I have to get a better job with more hours, she thought as she lay wide awake. But what about Jack?
Jack whimpered beside her and gave a little cough and a cry. She held him close, giving him the little warmth she had. His arms and legs were cold, but his forehead was burning hot. She reached for her shawl; it felt cold and damp so she wrapped it around herself to warm it before putting it over Jack. He fell into a light sleep and she tucked him tightly beneath the bedclothes, then got out of bed and padded through Mrs Herbert’s room into the scullery, which was freezing cold. Her toes curled on the bare floor. She picked up a jug of milk and a small saucepan and stole back to her room.
‘Please don’t let him be ill,’ she muttered to herself. ‘I’ll die if anything should happen to him.’ The fire was only just warm but she poured a little milk into the pan and placed it over the embers until steam rose.
She sat with the child on her knee, both of them wrapped in all the shawls and blankets she possessed, and holding him close to her body she spooned the warm milk into his mouth. He coughed again and she cringed at the husky rattling sound, but he opened his mouth for more milk.
‘That’s it, my precious boy,’ she murmured. ‘Drink it all up.’
He looked at her with his appealing moist brown eyes and his mouth trembled. She smiled down at him, reassuring him, touching his cheek with her finger. ‘Your ma will make it better.’
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
THE FOLLOWING DAY Jeannie huddled near the fire in Mrs Herbert’s room with Jack on her knee. When he wasn’t coughing, he lay lethargic and listless with his face pressed to her chest and she was distressed that her milk was gone and she wasn’t able to offer him even that comfort. But then she looked down at his pale face and saw his little mouth sucking on her blouse as if he was feeding and she undid her buttons and put him to her breast.
Mrs Herbert kept her supplied with weak tea and slices of stale bread and sat with her, not talking, for which Jeannie was grateful. She had nothing to say. All she wished for was that Jack would recover, and soon.
When he fell asleep, she placed him in her chair, covered him with a blanket and went outside to the privy. The yard was thick with crisp unmarked snow and she padded across it feeling the cold seeping through her shawl and boots. We could be snowed in, she thought. I wouldn’t be able to push the pram through this even if I dared take Jack out.
When she came back into the house she thought there wasn’t much difference in temperature between the outside and the scullery except that the wind outside was keener than that which found its way beneath the wooden back door and swirled around her feet. She heaved on the pump handle over the sink to draw water to wash her hands, but it only creaked and groaned and no water came out. As she stood there, wondering what to do, Mrs Herbert opened the door and came into the scullery. ‘Pump’s been frozen since this morning. It happens every winter, so I had ’forethought to fill a bucket last night. So if you want a cup o’ tea just ladle ’water into ’kettle.’
‘I wanted to wash my hands,’ Jeannie said. ‘Is there enough to do that?’
Mrs Herbert shook her head. ‘Can’t waste good water,’ she said. ‘This is onny for cooking or drinking. Scoop up some snow into a pan for washing; that’s what I usually do. Or sometimes I don’t bother,’ she added.
For three more days and nights Jeannie held Jack on her knee, letting him sleep if he could or when he was restless feeding him a drop of broth or sometimes warm water from a spoon. She thought he was worsening; his breathing was laboured, squeaks and gurgles coming from his chest, and she was frantic with worry.
‘I don’t know what to do, Mrs Herbert,’ she wept. Tears ran down her cheeks. ‘I wish my ma was here.’
Mrs Herbert pushed her shawl back from her forehead; beneath it she wore a woollen hat. ‘I don’t know what to tell you,’ she said. ‘I never had any bairns. If I could get out I could mebbe fetch a neighbour, but then what could they do?’ She shook her head. ‘But I’m afeared o’ falling.’
Jeannie sniffed away her tears. ‘No, you mustn’t go out. The snow’s over the doorstep, and I daren’t go out either.’ She dared not leave Jack in Mrs Herbert’s care; he might become worse whilst she was out, or fall out of the chair into the fire, or crawl into the cold scullery to look for her. Besides, whom would she ask for help? There was Mrs Norman, but what could she do that Jeannie couldn’t? It would take too long to walk to Dot and Sam’s house. No, she would have to manage as best she could, although already they were out of milk and bread, the water bucket was almost empty and they were rationing their tea. The only blessing was that there was still a little coal left and each day, when Jack had dropped asleep, Jeannie put on her work boots and warmest shawl and shovelled it from the coal house into a hod and brought it into the scullery.
‘Where’s ’babby’s father?’ Mrs Herbert asked at the end of the third day. ‘Why isn’t he here to look after you?’
Jeannie blinked. She had been so concerned about Jack that she hadn’t given Harry a single thought. Yes, she thought, where is Harry? He won’t have gone to sea yet. He said he was sailing in the New Year. Are we in the New Year? I don’t know what day it is. I haven’t heard the church bells or the sound of the ships’ horns. It seemed a lifetime since she had spent Christmas Day with Dot and her family.
‘He’s left me, Mrs Herbert,’ she said simply. ‘I don’t know where he is.’ Though I can guess, she thought. ‘Do you know what day it
is?’ She felt light-headed, unable to think straight. ‘Are we in the New Year?’
‘Not yet, dear. It’s onny Sunday.’ Mrs Herbert nodded her head and smiled. ‘Somebody’ll come lookin’ for us now. I’ll have been missed at chapel and I dare say your family will come knocking to ask if you and ’bairn are all right. Where did you say your husband was? At sea, did you say? Funny time o’ year to be away. Never known anybody go to sea at Christmas.’
Jeannie nodded. Sometimes that was all the response that Mrs Herbert needed: not an answer, just an acknowledgement that she had been heard.
And she was right. The next morning just after daybreak there was a knocking at the front door. It was Minnie, dressed in a long warm coat and shawl, and a woollen hat around her ears and another shawl on top of that.
‘I couldn’t get round ’back,’ she said. ‘Snow’s halfway up ’gate.’
‘I know.’ Jeannie let her in and Minnie stood looking round the room.
‘Don’t you have a fire?’ she asked in a shocked voice. ‘How are you keeping warm?’
Jeannie led her into the middle room. ‘I’m staying with Mrs Herbert,’ she explained. ‘We’ve been sharing the coal and the food, what little there was. Jack’s been ill, and I haven’t been able to get out.’ She couldn’t help the catch in her voice. ‘I think he’s still weak, though he’s not as chesty as he has been.’
‘Poor bairn,’ Minnie said, and knelt on the floor to say hello to him where he lay propped up in the chair.
Jack turned his head away as if he didn’t know her and then looked up at Jeannie, his eyes brimming with tears. She softly caressed his cheek.
‘What are you giving him?’ Minnie asked.
Jeannie burst into tears. ‘Only warm water with a bit of sugar. We’ve nothing left – no milk, no bread, and the pump’s frozen so now there’s no more water.’
