The Harbour Girl

by Val Wood

  Minnie opened her mouth on a breath. ‘Right,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘I’ll go and do some shopping.’

  Jeannie shook her head and burst into a fresh onslaught of crying. ‘I’ve no money. Nothing!’

  Minnie jingled coins in her pocket. ‘Mrs Greenwood gave me some when she asked me to come,’ she said. ‘I’d have been here afore but everybody’s been badly; Mrs Greenwood, Mr Greenwood and Miss Rosie. I’m ’onny one that hasn’t gone down with owt. I’ve been dashing about like a scalded hen since Boxing Day, mekkin’ hot drinks and keeping ’fires going.’ She adjusted her shawl and turned up her collar. ‘You wouldn’t believe ’number of folks who are sick.’ She pursed her mouth and looked at Mrs Herbert. ‘And some old folk’ve succumbed to influenza. Parson’s going to be busy.’

  Jeannie felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders and Mrs Herbert heaved a great sigh as Minnie went out. ‘I was getting worried, I admit,’ the old lady said stoically. ‘I was onny thinking that I’d have to brave ’weather and go out and beg some bones from ’butcher to mek some soup.’

  ‘We’ve no water,’ Jeannie reminded her.

  ‘No,’ Mrs Herbert said. ‘But we’ve got plenty of snow; we’d have had to use that.’

  Minnie came back with bread, milk and cheese, onions and carrots and a slice of tender beef steak which she seared in a pan on the fire. Jeannie could hear her grumbling when she went back into the scullery to chop up the onions and carrots. ‘Sweet Jesus, it’s freezing in here.’

  She came back into the room a few minutes later with the pan of meat and vegetables and a dollop of snow and placed it on the fire; she brought bread and cheese on a plate for Jeannie and Mrs Herbert, and for Jack a bowl of pobs, bread soaked in warm milk and sweetened with sugar. She knelt down beside Jeannie and gently urged Jack to open his mouth, which he did, like a little bird.

  ‘Thank you.’ Jeannie felt the tears welling up again. ‘You’re so kind. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ Minnie said, spooning another helping into Jack’s open mouth. ‘I’ll think o’ summat. Oh, and I’ve ordered a sack o’ coal,’ she added as a matter of fact. ‘Stew’ll tek for ever to cook on that fire. It’ll be here later this morning.’

  Billy called that evening after work, bringing a handcart full of wood for the fire. He’d been to see Rosie, who was still recovering from her bout of illness, and Minnie had told him about Jeannie trapped in the house with a sick child. He built up the fire with wood and coal and then suggested he should make a fire in Jeannie’s room.

  ‘It doesn’t do to let ’room get too cold,’ he said. ‘It’ll get damp.’

  ‘It’s damp already,’ Jeannie told him. ‘That’s why Jack got ill.’ She watched him as he knelt by the hearth, screwing up paper in the grate and then placing sticks and coal over it. ‘Have you seen anything of Harry?’

  ‘Not since Christmas Day. I was about to ask you ’same thing,’ he said, concentrating on what he was doing. He lit a match and set fire to the paper. ‘You might as well forget about him, Jeannie.’ He didn’t look at her but kept his eyes on the flame as it curled and blackened the edges of the paper and singed the wood. ‘He was allus my best mate, even though I knew his faults, just as he knew mine.’ At last he turned to look up at her. ‘But I’m telling you now, he’ll not come back. If he hasn’t been to see if you and ’bairn are all right over Christmas, then he’ll not be coming.’

  ‘But he said – in front of everybody …’ Her voice faltered. Why was she fooling herself?

  Billy shook his head. ‘He won’t come. Connie won’t let him.’

  Billy told her that Harry had left the Humber Steam Company and signed on with a company called M and R. An old established company, he said, but not one that Jeannie had heard of.

  ‘It used to be Masterson and Rayner,’ he told her as he buttoned up his jacket. ‘They were big in whaling at one time, so I understand, but ’name was changed a few years back to M and R. I think there’s still a Rayner in ’company. They’ve got four or five ships.’

  He changed the subject and told her that Dot wanted her to go and stay with them, but she quickly said she couldn’t take Jack out yet.

  ‘Not yet,’ he agreed. ‘But what about next Saturday? He should be a fair bit better by then – and you know what?’

  Jeannie shook her head. Billy was always full of good ideas.

  ‘What if I make a sledge for ’pram? You could wrap him up in warm blankets, put him in ’pram and we’ll fit it on ’sledge and I’ll pull it. ’Snow’s deep in places but you could hold it steady by ’handle and we’d get there in no time.’

  She laughed. Maybe it would work, but then she thought of leaving Mrs Herbert on her own and worried over that.

  ‘You could fetch her as well, Dot wouldn’t mind, but I doubt if ’old lass could walk that far,’ Billy said, and he was right as usual, for when Jeannie asked her she said she’d be quite content at home now that she had coal and food, and would wait for the thaw.

  ‘You forget, dear,’ she said to Jeannie later, ‘I’ve been through quite a few cold winters.’ She paused for a moment. ‘But I don’t recall another quite as cold as this one.’

  On the following evening, which was New Year’s Eve, Jeannie and Mrs Herbert sat by the fire drinking tea whilst Jack slept peacefully in his pram, which Billy had brought through from the front room. At midnight Jeannie heard the ships’ horns hooting and the sound of merrymaking out in the streets.

  ‘It’s the New Year, Mrs Herbert,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘I wish you good health.’

  ‘And ’same to you, m’dear,’ the old lady responded, ‘and to ’bonny bairn. Good luck in all you do.’

  Jeannie swallowed hard and nodded, but couldn’t help the tears which trickled down her cheeks. A new year and a new decade too. Surely things will change for the better. She gave a deep sigh. They surely can’t get any worse.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  DOT GREETED THEM effusively the following Saturday when Billy brought them to her house and Jack’s face lit up when he saw her, though he was at first reluctant to go to her. Gradually, though, he climbed off Jeannie’s knee and staggered unsteadily towards her. Dot lifted him up on to her lap.

  ‘If he settles with me,’ she said to Jeannie, ‘why don’t you go out for a walk? I know it’s cold but you could do wi’ some fresh air to sharpen you up.’

  Jeannie smiled. ‘I’ve just walked here,’ she said. ‘Through the snow!’

  Dot nodded. ‘What I should have said was why don’t you take a walk and see who’s about; like Harry for instance.’

  Jeannie told her what Billy had said, and added that she didn’t know where she would find him.

  ‘’Wassand Arms,’ Dot said. ‘It was allus his favourite.’ She looked across at Jeannie. ‘You could mebbe try, just one more time. Shame him if necessary.’

  After their midday meal Jeannie grew restless. She had a headache; perhaps I should go out, she thought, I’ve been cooped up indoors for so long. Dot had insisted they must stay with them until after the thaw, which didn’t appear to be imminent. It was bitterly cold, but the sky was blue and through the tall windows the sun was glorious on any unsullied snow, making it sparkle like crystal.

  Jack had fallen asleep on Dot’s knee and Dot herself was dozing. Jeannie lifted the child from her lap and placed him in a deep armchair, covering him with a shawl.

  ‘I will take a walk,’ she whispered to Dot, who nodded her head.

  ‘He’ll be all right wi’ me,’ she said sleepily. ‘Don’t worry.’

  Jeannie told Minnie she was going out and asked her to keep an eye on Jack. Minnie gave her a warm coat and another shawl and a pair of woollen mittens, and told her to be careful not to slip as the footpaths were very icy.

  The steps had been cleared and salted and once out on the Boulevard Jeannie took deep breaths which iced her nostrils and throat; her n
ose and ears tingled and she pulled the shawl further round her head. She reached Hessle Road and then hesitated, debating which way to go and wondering whether the choice she made would have any bearing on her future.

  The heavy snow hadn’t deterred anyone from coming out and the road was busy with shoppers and people going about their everyday business; horses pulling coal waggons were skittering on the packed snow and she heard the clang of heavy engines shunting in the railway yards. Men were shouting and there was raucous laughter coming from inns and hostelries. The laughter decided her. I will not be humiliated again, she thought, and hesitated only a moment more before heading towards St Andrew’s Dock, where she would enquire about M and R Shipping, the ships they owned, and when they would be sailing.

  The fish quay was deserted on a Saturday afternoon, and she thought ruefully of the wages she had lost since Christmas and hoped she still had a job to go back to. Men were working on the ships, checking ropes and nets, swabbing decks, loading boxes and preparing for the next trip. There was ice floating in the dock, knocking against the hulls of the ships, and Jeannie shivered as she walked alongside. The vessels were mostly trawlers and paddle steamers, steam and diesel, and there were more than she could count; many tugs and coal barges too. She saw only two smacks, further along the dock, and curiosity propelled her feet in that direction.

  One of the smacks was named the Lincoln Maid and two men were working on her; a little further along was the second smack tied alongside a trawler and her breath fluttered in her throat when she saw the name. The Scarborough Girl.

  She stopped, huddling into her shawl and pressing her lips together. So Ethan had kept it after all, in spite of buying shares in another ship. Why hadn’t he sold it and put the money towards the other? He’s surely not sentimental over it? But of course, she realized, there’ll be no market for smacks. The price of them would have dropped to rock bottom; there was no money in offshore fishing any more. Vessels were sailing further and further in search of a livelihood.

  She walked on and came abreast of the trawler. She could hear men’s voices from below calling to one another and some banter, then hammering and sawing. The ship looked as if it had been freshly painted and the deck was strewn with cables, blocks and nets, coiled ropes and fish boxes. Further along the dock was another trawler with the large letters M and R on the side and beneath it the name Polar Star V.

  Curious, she walked on to take a look at it. So is this the ship that Harry is sailing on? She looks sound, as far as I can tell. Harry’s been lucky if he’s managed to get a ship with an old-established company. I hope he sticks with them this time. She shivered as the cold suddenly bit into her; she turned to go back the way she had come and found herself staring at the name of the trawler next to the coble. Scarborough Girl.

  She swallowed hard. The same name. This must be Ethan’s ship. There won’t be anyone else’s with that name. The smack was named for me, he said; she could hear his words clearly in her head. Is this ship named for some other Scarborough girl? Has Ethan named this for Pamela?

  As she stood wondering two men came up from below. They were both dressed in thick clothing but one was head and shoulders taller than the other and wore a thick beard.

  ‘Is that you, Jeannie?’ Mike Gardiner called. ‘Have you come to look at our new ship?’

  She raised her hand in greeting. ‘Hello, Mike,’ she said, and then, ‘Is it you, Ethan?’ She forced her voice to be merry. ‘I didn’t recognize you beneath all those clothes and the long beard.’

  Both men jumped ashore and Jeannie saw that Mike too was sporting a thicker beard than usual.

  ‘I need a thick beard where we’re going.’ Ethan gazed at her. ‘How are you, Jeannie?’

  ‘I’m all right,’ she said as brightly as she could. ‘What about you? Ready for off?’

  He nodded. ‘Just about. Another couple of days. My da’s sailing with us. He’s coming by train on Monday.’

  ‘Is he?’ She was surprised by the news. She had thought that Josh would stick to local fishing. ‘I’d like to see him – to ask him how my ma is.’

  Ethan smiled, keeping his eyes on her. ‘You could come and see us off,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Mike interrupted. ‘They’re a superstitious lot round here. They don’t like their womenfolk anywhere near the docks when they’re about to sail.’

  Ethan raised his eyebrows. ‘Jeannie was always on the harbour side when I was sailing,’ he said softly. ‘Remember?’

  Jeannie felt herself blushing as she told him that she did. She recalled how she always used to watch for him bringing in his father’s smack, even when they were children. She addressed herself to Mike. ‘The M and R trawler,’ she said, pointing over her shoulder. ‘Is that their only one in the dock?’

  Mike looked about him. ‘No, there’s another across on ’other side. Arctic Star, she’s called. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Oh, erm, Harry’s sailing with them. I was curious, that’s all.’

  ‘Is he? Which ship? They’re both ready to sail.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘I don’t think he knows yet. He’s – he’s not sailed with them before.’

  She saw Ethan’s sharp glance at her and then at Mike, and wondered if he would question Mike later as to why she didn’t know the name of her husband’s ship.

  ‘They’re a reliable company,’ Mike said softly. ‘Good strong ships and good company policy. They look after their men. They’ve had mixed fortunes over ’years, like everybody has, but they’ve allus survived. You don’t need to worry, Jeannie.’

  She knew from the way he spoke, so kindly and compassionately, that nothing escaped him. He probably knew all there was to know about Harry and Connie and even her own situation. She shivered again, feeling vaguely unwell.

  ‘Would you like to come aboard?’ Ethan asked. ‘See what changes we’ve made.’

  ‘It’s going to mek our fortunes,’ Mike said, grinning. ‘It’ll be a dynasty just like Masterson and Rayner. It had better be,’ he added, ‘for I’ve sunk everything I own into it.’

  ‘I – I won’t, thank you,’ she said faintly. ‘I’m feeling rather cold. I ought to get back.’

  ‘Cold? You?’ Ethan smiled as if disbelieving. ‘That’s not the harbour girl I once knew, out in all weathers. Where’s your bairn, by the way? Is he well?’

  ‘He’s with Dot Greenwood. He’s been ill,’ she told him, pleased that he’d asked about Jack. ‘They, erm, sort of rescued us and took us back to the Boulevard. Their house is warmer than mine – ours,’ she added lamely.

  She felt unsteady; her head pounded and the cold seemed to be creeping into her bones. She wondered if she had taken a chill. ‘I’d better get off,’ she muttered. ‘He might be fretting for me, with him not being well, you know.’

  Without any warning her knees buckled beneath her and Ethan and Mike both reached out towards her before she crashed to the ground. Ethan caught her, gathering her up in his arms.

  ‘Jeannie! What’s wrong?’

  She couldn’t speak; she had no breath and gulped down air, air so cold that it froze her throat and hurt her chest. She heard voices from a long way off, felt herself being lifted on board ship and taken below, where a blanket was wrapped round her and somebody put a cup to her mouth. She felt warm water on her lips and heard somebody say he’d fetch the waggon.

  Everything that happened next was vague and insubstantial but she thought she was lifted up and carried back along the waterway; felt herself being placed in the back of a vehicle, her body protected by somebody else’s, somebody’s arms around her holding her safe.

  She woke up later in a bed that wasn’t her own. The bed was comfortable, much more so than Mrs Herbert’s chair, the blankets were soft and against her feet was a warm brick, wrapped in a cloth; a bedside lamp was turned down, giving only a soft glow to the dark room.

  She wanted to succumb to the comfort of it, but where was Jack? She called out
for him and he was brought to her, but she wasn’t allowed to hold him.

  ‘Go to sleep now,’ someone said. ‘Everything’s going to be all right. You’ve not been well, but you’ll feel better in ’morning.’

  ‘What happened?’ she whispered. ‘I was at the dock, looking at the ships.’

  ‘You fainted, and Mike brought you home.’ Jeannie now recognized Dot’s voice. ‘He said he’s allus rescuing you. Ethan was with him – he was right worried about you. Now will you go to sleep?’

  Jeannie nodded her head. Sighing, she snuggled down beneath the sheets and submitted.

  She wasn’t allowed downstairs until two days later, when she was given a chair by the fire and Dot tucked a blanket over her knees. Jack was in the kitchen, being spoiled by Minnie.

  ‘I feel such a fraud,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been ill before.’

  Dot looked at her wryly. ‘We were fearful you’d caught influenza, but it turned out to be a chill and is there any wonder! You’ve never lived under such conditions before, I’ll warrant. Nor been short o’ food.’

  ‘I came to you for Christmas dinner,’ Jeannie countered.

  ‘Except that you didn’t eat it, did you? Harry put us all off our food. I hear he’s sailed, by the way. Mike called in to ask how you were and said he’d seen Harry. He’s gone on ’Arctic Star.’

  Jeannie took a deep breath. Had he called at Mrs Herbert’s to see her? she wondered.

  ‘Mike told him you’d been took badly and Harry said to tell you he’ll come when he gets back,’ Dot said, a note of cynicism in her voice. ‘And I said that pigs might fly.’

  She’s right, of course, Jeannie thought. Harry will be full of good intentions but they’ll come to nothing. She took another breath, which caused some soreness in her chest. I must make plans whilst I’m sitting here like the lady I’m not. I can’t expect Dot and Sam to be responsible for me and Jack.

  She jumped when the doorbell rang, and Dot went to answer it. She felt a slight draught as the door opened again and she thought it was Dot returning until she heard Ethan’s voice and looked up to see him in the doorway, twisting his hat in his hand.