The Harrogate Secret (aka The Secret)

by Catherine Cookson

  Again the tunnel sound as he emitted, ‘Terrible.’

  She bent over him: ‘It’ll pass,’ she said softly. ‘But oh, I’d like to have those two up before the Justices. Anyway, I’m going down to open up first and I’ll tell Andy to keep his ears open and find out if they’ve managed to get to their keel this morning.’

  When he attempted to speak she caught the word, ‘fleet’, and she said, ‘Don’t worry about the fleet; Roy will see to our interests in that line. Anyway, there’s a glut of fish at present and you know what that means; poor returns. But we’ll survive, won’t we?’ She grinned at him. ‘You have nothing to worry about, not any more, only’—she straightened up—‘to prepare to protect yourself from the flying angel that’ll be here in a few hours.’

  He couldn’t smile; he could make no response either with his face or his voice, but he managed slowly to lift his hand towards her. Then he lay thinking.

  She had said we’d survive. That indeed was a joke. She always said we, and so included him when talking of business. She had her fingers in so many pies that if half of them sank she’d still swim. The half share in three fishing boats was just one of them, a minor one. Yet he himself owned nothing. Well, he didn’t expect to. She paid him a spanking wage, and over the years she had sold the diamonds and the ruby for him and even the Roman coins that had long reposed in a tin on the mantelpiece. And so now it could be said he was a man of property; and as such, although his property reposed in the bank, he was entitled to vote. But then hadn’t he been eligible to vote for a long time, since he first had ten pounds; any man with more than ten pounds could vote.

  He touched his swollen and battered face. Would he ever get his looks back? he wondered. He wasn’t vain but he was naturally pleased that he was pleasant to look at. He had been called handsome once or twice, but that was soft-soaping him. But he had been lucky in the last pox epidemic that he hadn’t been touched, as many had in the town.

  His mother’s coming into the room broke into his thoughts and he beckoned her and croaked, ‘Nancy.’

  ‘Yes; what about her?’

  ‘The night?’

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry about the night, she’ll find somebody to take her; there’s always Rob; so settle yourself.’

  There was nothing he could do but settle himself.

  He slept fitfully all morning; then when at midday his mother had spooned gruel and rum into his mouth he had the desire to heave it up, but his ribs didn’t seem to be capable of the effort. And when she went to spoon liquid from a bottle he flung his arm wide and, enduring the pain of opening his mouth, he brought out, ‘No laudanum. No, Ma: no laudanum,’ nodding his head in emphasis, and Jinny, tipping the spoon back to the neck of the bottle, said, ‘Well, if you enjoy the pain, carry on; you’ll have plenty of it in the next few days.’

  The lamp was lit and the fire was burning brightly in the small iron grate when he heard the commotion in the hall and her voice. It was different from any voice he had ever heard: it held no trace of the northern accent; in fact, at times some of her words sounded as if she was a foreigner speaking English. He had always loved her voice. He had always loved her. She had been his little sister for years; but then, as Maggie had pointed out, he could have been her father, so attached had she become to him.

  It was some months since he had last seen her, and he had realised then that she was no longer a little girl. What would she look like now?

  He saw what she looked like when the door was thrust open and there appeared a slim young woman, five foot six in height or thereabouts with alabaster skin in which were set two oval-shaped eye sockets each filled with a dark shining glow, a nose that just missed being large and a mouth that was large, and the whole topped by a mass of raven black hair that fell straight from the crown of her head onto her shoulders.

  She had stopped just within the doorway for a second, but now she skipped across the room to come to a halt at the side of the bed; and, her hands going out, she caught his, saying, ‘Oh! Freddie, Freddie, what have they done to you? Your face. Your poor face.’

  ‘Don’t slaver over him; he’s had enough of it, he’s enjoying it.’

  Maggie’s voice brought the young girl’s head sharply round and she said, ‘Oh, Aunt Maggie, he looks dreadful, shocking. Will it ever come right again?’

  For answer Freddie pulled his hands away from hers and croaked at her, ‘What if it doesn’t?’

  ‘Well, in that case you’ll have to wear a mask.’ Her voice was as chirpy as Maggie’s now.

  ‘You’ve…you’ve grown.’

  ‘Yes, I know I have. I’m an old lady, as Miss Rington pointed out to me before I left: “You have now entered your eighteenth year,” she said; “try to act accordingly, Mirabelle.” But you know what Madame Evette said?’ She hunched her shoulders now and glanced at Maggie and pursed her lips before saying, ‘“Live, laugh and love, child, so that when you are old you will have at least your memories to keep you warm.”’

  ‘If you ask me she wanted her lugs smacking, that one, a flighty piece if ever I saw one. Frenchie all over.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Aunt Maggie? You once said she was the only one that had any life in her in the whole school.’

  ‘Well, you know me, I talk through the fat of me neck sometimes. Anyway, leave him alone now and come and get your meal. Jinny’s wanting to get away; she’s been here long enough the day.’

  She took hold of Belle’s arm and turned her from the bed, saying now to Freddie, ‘You can take heart: neither of your friends got to their keel today. I called in at the office on my way back. Andy tells me it’s the talk of the quay. You won’t recall anything, but there were lots of eyes watching you stagger out of that door last night and there had been lots of ears listening in to the commotion that took place when Freddie Musgrave chucked May Harper.’

  Belle now tugged herself from Maggie’s hold and, turning to the bed, she said, ‘Oh, I was so pleased to hear that. You should have—chucked her—years ago. I never liked her and I know she loved me.’

  Her hand came out swiftly to pat his face, but she checked it, and, her face now hanging over his, she said softly, ‘Oh, it’s wonderful, Freddie, to be back. I’m never going to leave home again, or this wonderful house, or…’

  ‘You’ll leave it in a minute for I’ll swipe you so hard that you’ll find yourself sliding off the face of the earth and leaving all your mush talk behind. Come on with you.’

  For answer, the young girl turned and flung her arms about Maggie and, kissing her boldly on the mouth, she cried, ‘You know what you are, Miss Margaret Hewitt, you’re a bossy old crab, but’—her voice dropped—‘I love you.’ Then glancing over her shoulder, she looked towards Freddie and added, ‘And I love you.’

  She could say nothing more before Maggie pulled her, laughing, from the room, and Freddie lay staring towards the door. ‘I love you,’ she had said. But what did that mean? That she looked upon him as her brother, even her father?

  Look!—A voice was yelling loudly in his head—You’ve just got out of one tangle, and barely with your life. You are her brother, her loving brother. Get that into your napper. What place you take in her life from now will be seeing to her future.

  Later on, when Maggie came to bid him goodnight, she sat on the side of the bed and said, ‘Well, what d’you think of the finished article?’

  ‘She’s grown.’

  ‘Is that all, grown? You should have been on Newcastle station. She had them goggle-eyed, especially when she pushed her bonnet back. She hates bonnets. I’ll have to get her a hat and a pile of new clothes; the things she’s got will soon be up to her calves. But on that station their eyes were sticking out like pike shanks.’

  She smiled softly now as she added, ‘We’re going to have trouble ahead. They’ll be beating a path to the door, so we’ll have to be careful in our selection.’

  He drew in a painful breath before he spoke from one side of his mouth, sa
ying, ‘I think you’d better face up to the fact that the selection won’t lie with us. She’s headstrong, she’ll do the choosing.’

  ‘Well, she’ll be guided; and anyway, she’s got a head on her shoulders; she’ll pick right.’

  As if to change the subject he said, ‘How did you find things up there? Any change?’

  With an impatient movement she rose from the bed, saying, ‘That’s a daft question, with the boats stuck in the river like frozen dummies.’

  ‘I meant, have they got the big steamer free yet?’

  ‘No; and not likely to, although there’s a steam tug at her. Eeh, that river! You’ve never seen anything like it. You know something? Before long there’ll not be a penn’orth of trade on this side, or yon, I’m telling you. Most of them are going into Sunderland, and no wonder, them advertising deep water there. Men are fools, fighting against each other like children. They thought when Newcastle lost the charter the sandbanks would disappear overnight, just melt away and leave free passage. And what’s happened? There they are, boats stuck in the river for months on end. And you know what? They’re starting to unload part of the cargoes across the water in Shields in order to lighten the boats so they can get up the river. Did you ever hear anything like it? No wonder that inspector said last year it’s the worst river in the country. They’re all for dredgers now when they should have been using them ten or fifteen years ago. Oh, it gets me mad. Even a little sculler couldn’t get up there on low tide now. By the way, I saw a lad in yours yesterday. He was skimming across at slack tide. It’s amazing how that little thing’s lasted. Well, here I am off to me bed. Is there anything more you want?’

  ‘Just a new face and a new body.’

  ‘Well, yes, it would be an improvement.’ She grinned at him; and he flapped his hand at her; then she went out.

  He lay thinking, not about her or Belle, but about the little sculler, for it was that that had started it all. If his da had never built it for John and he himself hadn’t toddled into it from he could walk, he wouldn’t be lying here now in this house at this minute. No, he wouldn’t; he would have been married to May for sure.

  Two

  It was four days later. He was up now but he hadn’t yet been out of the house. He was at his desk in the study going over the rents that had become due from Maggie’s property. And over the years, this had spread far and wide up the river, from a row of one-roomed hovels in the town here, to three terraced houses in Newcastle, to mention but a few.

  She was a shrewd businesswoman, was Maggie, with an eye for a bargain, and she seemed to have the knack of buying at the right time as well as selling when the market was favourable. And besides the half share in the fishing boats she had financed a number of small shops. Even so, all this was only part of the business. Most of her money came in from the interest on loans; and she could have had twice as much business in this way because she didn’t skin people like the banks did. She was chary though, and picked her customers where she willed.

  She had never dealt in a penny a week or a month for a shilling loan; this she considered daylight robbery; but she had advanced ordinary sailors money, until they could get signed on a boat, and often she would promise to keep their families going when they were beginning a long voyage and when the half-pay note they left was so meagre that it wouldn’t supply a grown family with bread, let alone meat.

  So she had a good name on the waterfront and was respected; but at the same time she was also feared and envied and resented, for was she not a woman in a man’s world? There were a few such about, though in different capacities, up and down the river, and there was a natural dread in many male quarters that their number could grow.

  ‘We are off then.’ Maggie appeared in the doorway. ‘I can see I’m going to get some work done these days gallivanting about the place.’

  ‘Isn’t there anything in the shops here that would suit her?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. Do the so-called ladies patronise the local shops? And me ladyship here knows what she wants. Listen to her.’

  He listened. She was singing, and his face broke into a twisted smile as he said, ‘Her musical voice won’t get her very far.’

  Maggie laughed; saying, ‘No, she’s no Nancy. What d’you think about letting her go tonight?’

  ‘Well, it’s seemingly all arranged, isn’t it, with Mr and Mrs Twaite?’

  ‘You wouldn’t risk going like you are?’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Maggie; one look at me and they’d have me thrown out.’

  The sound of singing came nearer and then it flooded the study. It certainly wasn’t musical, but then it wasn’t unpleasant.

  ‘What’s that you’re jabbering?’

  She approached the desk, saying, ‘It’s a little French song about two birds: one sits on the nest and one goes off gathering food; then a big crow comes and takes the poor little mother bird, and when the father bird comes back he finds his wife gone and his chicks dying. It’s very, very sad.’

  ‘Get yourself away.’

  She reached out across the desk towards his cheek, saying, ‘The colour’s changing. It’s yellowish now; in another six months you should be all right.’

  He picked up a paperweight and pretended to throw it, but she didn’t move. Straightening up and in a haughty tone, she said, ‘You cannot intimidate me. I am a young woman of fashion, at least I shall be in a short while when Auntie Maggie empties her purse.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘But recalling what my dear headmistress used to say, “The world is your oyster, girls, but you’ve got to learn how to open the shell”…’

  ‘Get out!’

  ‘Yes; let’s get out. And my purse strings, my dear girl, are tight; and that’s how they’re going to remain. Come on.’

  Her hand near her cheek, Belle now wagged her fingers at Freddie; then skipped from the room.

  And he sat looking at the ledger for some minutes before he picked up the quill again.

  A short while later his mother entered, carrying a cup of tea on a tray and, laying it on the corner of the desk, she sat herself on the chair to the side of it, saying, ‘It’s a pity you can’t go along with them the night; it’s goin’ to be a big thing for Nancy. Second time in a week at the same place. She must have gone over well.’

  ‘Naturally, she would. What is she going to sing?’

  ‘Aw. Molly Bowen, Comin’ Through The Rye, The Keel Row. They always ask for these. Then, of course the usual local ones, the favourites that they can all join in. You’ve never been in that place, have you?’

  ‘No I haven’t; in fact, I’ve never heard of it before. Cora’s: it sounds like a ladies’ tearoom.’

  ‘Oh, from what Mrs Twaite said, it’s far from that. But there’s no strong liquor sold; coffee mostly, but you can have tea. It’s the food though that’s the attraction, an’ the entertainment. But the food sounds plain to me: potato hash and rabbit pie, and for their pudding, plum duff with honey; and then she has what they call savouries, bacon pancakes, which is just a slice of bacon rolled up inside a pancake. But they seem to have taken on. They’ve been there nearly a year. And Mrs Twaite said the customers all seem to be respectable, good class ones, nothing rowdy. Well, she wouldn’t take Nancy to anything rowdy, would she?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He laughed gently now. ‘If she thought there might be a bigger cut in it, who knows?’

  ‘Well, she’s got to charge for the travelling and her time, hasn’t she? And I don’t begrudge her what she gets because she’s put Nancy on her feet. Without her, Nancy wouldn’t be where she is the day.’

  ‘No, that’s right. That’s right.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘What d’you mean, what’s the matter?’

  ‘You seem down in the mouth.’

  ‘Well, Ma’—he sat back in his chair, his two hands resting on the desk—‘look at me. How d’you expect me to act? I’m still aching from head to foot.’

  There was a moment’
s silence before she said, ‘Belle’s grown into a bonny lass.’

  He turned a sharp glance on her. ‘Yes, she has,’ he said.

  ‘An’ she’s nice with it. In spite of that smart school learnin’, she’s ordinary like. Well, not ordinary, but you know what I mean.’

  ‘Yes, Ma; I know what you mean.’

  And yes, he did know what his mother meant. His mother was a very discerning woman.

  ‘Well, I’d better be gettin’ on; this won’t get me work done. By the way’—she turned about—‘our Nell’s threatened to leave him.’

  ‘Not again!’

  ‘Aye. He’s never sober. He’s got in with that lot on the quay. And there’s a couple of hussies down there that would strip off for a tallow candle. They live in one of those filthy lodgin’ houses, sleepin’ twelve to a room an’ the pee runnin’ out of the door. They raided one the day afore yesterda’, I hear, and one of the pollis spewed with the smell inside. And Nell’s got her suspicions he’s been with one of ’em. Well, she knows for a fact, so she means it this time.’

  ‘Well, as bad as the lassies might be they’d have to be badly in need of a man to take up with Joe.’

  ‘Oh, some women would take a clothes prop with trousers on. Anyway, she says she’s gona move, to Gateshead of all places, across the river and right up yon side…it’s opposite Newcastle.’

  His pain-racked body shook now as he muttered, ‘Ma, yes, Gateshead’s opposite Newcastle.’

  ‘Oh!’—she was indignant—‘What you laughin’ at? Everybody isn’t as travelled as you, smart arse.’

  When the door closed after her none too gently he stopped chuckling to himself and repeated, ‘Not so travelled as you.’ And where had he travelled to? Newcastle mostly; no, he’d been as far as Durham.