The Fisher Lass Read online

  ‘Come on, let me finish that for you.’ Jeannie tried to coax Nell away from the net. ‘Sit by the fire and drink your tea.’

  But Nell’s fingers held fast on to the sisal like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline.

  ‘Leave her be,’ Tom said quietly. ‘She’s better keeping ’ersen busy.’

  Jeannie moved away from Nell towards Tom to say softly, ‘But she doesna seem to have taken the news in.’

  He gave a shrug. ‘It’s just her way of coping, that’s all. She’s strong . . .’ He glanced up at her. ‘You women are a lot stronger than us men when it comes to coping with tragedy, you know.’

  ‘Och now, I don’t believe that for a minute.’ It seemed ironic that she should be plunged into the midst of another family’s tragedy. Perhaps, she thought, in staying to help them, she could come to terms with her own loss too.

  As if reading her thoughts, Tom looked up at her and said softly, ‘Jeannie, will you stay with us a while longer. Please?’

  Jeannie did not answer at once but looked across the room at Nell, seeing the bent head and the busy fingers threading and twisting and knotting as if her life depended upon it.

  Slowly, she nodded her head. ‘Aye, Tom, I’ll stay.’

  He reached up and grasped her hand tightly, hanging on to it. ‘Thank you,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I knew you would.’

  Embarrassed by his display of emotion, she handed him a mug of tea and said brusquely, though not unkindly, ‘Here, drink this and then go and see some of your mates. Maybe they’ve heard more.’

  ‘He’s gone,’ Tom said brokenly, reaching out for the tea with a trembling hand. ‘He’s gone. I know he has. Oh how am I going to tell Grace?’

  But Tom did not have to tell Grace anything for though he and Jeannie sat beside the fire far into the night and Nell refused to come away from her work at the wall, Grace did not come home.

  And still, Nell’s fingers twisted and knotted and the net grew longer.

  Thirteen

  Robert strode along the dock towards the company’s offices. How dare that slip of a girl speak to him like that, he raged inwardly. Well, that was it, he wouldn’t help that blasted family any more. He’d apologized for that other incident and, shameful though it had been, the young girl had not been hurt. Shocked and frightened, yes, but not physically harmed.

  But even as he thought about that night again, guilt twisted at his stomach and his anger died. Sighing inwardly as he ran up the steps and into the building, he knew that despite Jeannie’s rudeness, he would still do what he could to help the Lawrence family and that he would go on doing so.

  One day, he promised himself, I’ll make that red-haired firebrand smile at me.

  As he opened the door to Edwin’s office, his father came towards him. ‘And where the hell have you been? Spreading the news, I suppose, to all and sundry.’ He stepped closer to his son and thrust his face so close that Robert could smell the whisky on his breath. Eleven thirty in the morning and already he could smell it.

  ‘Do you know what you’re doing, boy? Losing us money, that’s what. Half the crews won’t turn up to sail tomorrow night, or if they do, they’ll go on Hathersage boats. Just because you’ve married into the Hathersage family, don’t forget your loyalty to this one.’

  Robert stood unflinching as the older man’s spittle rained upon his face. Three weeks away from his twenty-first birthday, it came to him now as he stood facing the blustering man that it was time he, Robert Hayes-Gorton, grew up. Time he took on the mantle of maturity, time he started acting like a man. And it was time too that he started to earn the respect of others. He was under this man’s thumb, they all were, the whole family, even, to some degree, Francis. It was high time someone stood up to Samuel Hayes-Gorton.

  How he wished with all his heart, that he had done this weeks, months ago. Then he would not be tied in marriage to a woman he did not love, nor she to him.

  Thinking of his child-bride, he said with a calmness he was not feeling inside, lacing his words with sarcasm, ‘I thought we were supposed to be in partnership with the Hathersage family since you so conveniently arranged a marriage between the two companies.’

  ‘Arranged? Arranged? What are you talking about, boy?’

  ‘Oh come on, Father. You know very well what I mean. You and old man Hathersage have planned a union between the companies for years and how better than by marriage.’

  He was feeling slightly sick now, not only listening to the callous manner in which his father thought nothing of the loss of a ship and all its crew, save what it would mean to his company in lost revenue, but also realizing just to what depths he and his like would stoop. The two men, Hathersage and his father, had had no compunction in sacrificing the happiness of their own children for the sake of business.

  From behind them, as if trying to break up the scene that promised to grow ugly, Edwin’s mild voice said, ‘I have to say, Father, it seems definite now that the boat is lost. I think it behoves us to be open about the matter.’

  Hayes-Gorton swung round, pointing his finger at his younger son. ‘Don’t you start. You just do as you’re told . . .’

  Slowly, Edwin rose from his chair behind the desk, leather topped and scratched with years of wear. ‘I will do,’ the young man said slowly, ‘what I think is right. The same . . .’ now every word was deliberate, ‘as my brother obviously intends to do.’

  For a moment, their father, standing between them, appeared stunned. Then he let out a loud bark of laughter, but there was no humour in it. ‘Oho, the cubs are turning on the old fox, eh? Well, you’re not too old for a whipping and this fox is not too old to give you one . . .’ His glance went from one to the other. ‘Either of you.’ A malicious gleam came into his eyes. ‘I can change my will, you know. Leave everything to Francis. If you’re not careful, I’ll cut the pair of you off without a penny. And you’ll find yourself without a job too.’ He glanced from first one to the other and back again watching what effect his words were having.

  The two brothers exchanged a glance and Robert felt a warm glow spread through him as he read the support in Edwin’s eyes.

  ‘If that is what you want,’ he said, ‘so be it . . .’ There was the slightest of pauses before he added, ‘sir’.

  There was silence and then with a swift unexpected movement Samuel Hayes-Gorton raised the ebony cane he carried and brought it down with a resounding crack upon the surface of the desk. His sons flinched but did not move.

  ‘Damn and blast the pair of you then,’ the older man thundered. ‘It’s your own inheritance you’re throwing away.’ He paused and then barked, ‘Where’s Francis? Francis will handle this properly.’

  Again the two younger brothers exchanged a glance and Robert said quietly, ‘Try Aggie Turnbull’s, Father.’

  For a moment he thought he had gone too far, for Samuel’s face grew bright purple and the veins on his forehead stood out.

  ‘Damn you, boy,’ he muttered, ‘damn you to hell and back.’ Then he strode to the door, wrenched it open, was through it and slamming it behind him so that the frame rattled leaving the two brothers staring at each other.

  ‘Actually, he is right, you know,’ Edwin said, leaning back in his chair. ‘I don’t agree with his attitude, mind you, but he is right when he says we might be short of crews tomorrow night.’

  ‘Well, I don’t go along with that. I’ll grant you some of the young lads may use it as an excuse to stay ashore and miss a trip, but the older fishermen – well, sadly they’re all too used to it.’

  Edwin stood up. ‘You’re right, of course, but I’ll have a quiet word with our ship’s runner.’ He tapped the side of his nose and winked at his brother. ‘Jackson’s just the man to round up the youngsters.’

  ‘You see,’ Samuel thumped his fist on the desk. ‘I told you to keep your blasted mouth shut. We’re short of crews. One ship can’t sail.’

  ‘It’s affected our crews too.’ Hathersage stood with his ba
ck to the coal fire burning brightly in Samuel Hayes-Gorton’s office. ‘What have you to say to that, young feller-me-lad?’

  Robert glanced at Edwin and raised his eyebrows. The other smiled and gave a slight nod and held out a handwritten list to his brother. They had both known that this confrontation would occur and were well prepared. Now Robert was able to face the two older men with equanimity.

  He glanced down at the piece of paper between his fingers and began to reel of the list. ‘There are precisely seven men whom our ship’s runner has not been able to sign on. One has been ashore for three weeks with a broken arm, sustained, incidentally whilst at sea on a Hathersage boat. One is in hospital with pneumonia, another with a suspected appendicitis. That’s three. Tom Lawrence will, of course, miss this trip—’

  ‘Why “of course”? There’s no “of course” about it.’

  Robert glanced at his father-in-law and asked quietly, ‘You really expect the man to put to sea for a three-week trip, leaving his mother and his sister . . .’ to say nothing of Jeannie Buchanan, he added silently to himself, ‘to cope alone?’

  Mr Hathersage gave a grunt and twisted the tips of his moustache. But he made no answer.

  Robert continued with the list of absentees and their reasons. ‘That leaves three more. Abel Johnson, a cook, is retiring. It was his last trip anyway and we knew that. And lastly there are two brothers, aged fifteen and sixteen and, yes, it is their mother who is adamant that they shall not go to sea again.’

  ‘Ah, there!’ Samuel boomed with triumph. ‘I told you so. Well, she needn’t come running to me begging for shore jobs for them.’

  Calmly, Robert went on as if the interruption had not occurred. His tone was deceptively soft. ‘I don’t think anyone with any feeling could possibly blame her. She lost her husband and her eldest son three years ago on the Hathersage Evening Star when it went down in Arctic waters.’

  There was silence in the room now as the two older men glanced at each other a little uncomfortably.

  ‘Of course,’ Robert went on smoothly, ‘what is missing is a Gorton ship with all hands. The Sea Spray will never set sail again, nor will any of her crew.’

  With that parting shot, he turned on his heel and left the office.

  At breakfast the following morning in the Hathersage household, Mr Hathersage spread his newspaper and disappeared behind it, not even wishing his son-in-law ‘Good morning’.

  Robert stared down at the kipper on his plate, quite unable to eat a mouthful when he thought of the appalling price that men had paid with their lives to bring such fish ashore. He was about to ask the maid to fetch him something else when the door opened and Louise, her face more animated than he had seen it since their marriage and holding a letter in her hand, burst into the room.

  ‘Oh listen everyone . . . Morning, Mummy . . . Daddy . . .’ she added hastily but she was so excited and happy as she smiled at Robert and waved the letter towards him. ‘You’ll never guess. Madeleine has invited us to stay with her in London. I was so hoping she would. We can go the day after tomorrow. Oh Robert, isn’t that wonderful?’

  She was looking very pretty this morning, in the frilled morning dress and her hair neatly dressed. Her round cheeks were delicately pink with excitement and her blue eyes sparkled and, looking at her, Robert felt a wave of tenderness for her and hated to be the one to have to say that at present such a visit was out of the question.

  ‘I’m sorry, my dear. I cannot possibly leave just now. The whole town will be in mourning for the loss of the Sea Spray and all its crew. And I must – I must see to the family . . .’ Swiftly he added as a hurried afterthought, ‘All the families.’

  But in his mind was only one family: the Lawrence family and their visitor, Jeannie Buchanan.

  Louise’s pretty face crumpled and the ready tears spilled over. ‘You don’t love me,’ she cried in a childish voice. ‘Else you’d want to make me happy. What do I care about some silly boat?’

  Appalled by her callousness, Robert rose from the table and went from the room, leaving his breakfast untouched.

  ‘Have you heard any more news?’ Grace came in at the back door, her hair awry, her clothes dishevelled.

  ‘Where on earth have you been?’ Jeannie flashed at once. ‘And why didn’t you come home last night? Where were you?’

  Twenty-four hours had passed since Robert had brought the only news so far. Since then, they had heard no more. A steady stream of neighbours had knocked on the back-door, but when they saw Nell refusing to leave her net and Tom sitting gloomily by the fire, they patted Jeannie’s hand and whispered, ‘If there’s owt we can do, lass, you just let us know.’ But then they left, unsure how to deal with the strange reaction of each member of the Lawrence family.

  Weeping, they could have handled, or even rage from the lost fisherman’s son, but it was their silence they could not understand. A silence that seemed to rebuff their good intentions.

  ‘Oh come on, Florrie,’ Jeannie heard one woman mutter as she stepped out into the back-yard. Their voices drifted back to her as they waddled down the passageway between the neighbouring houses. ‘Leave ’er be, if that’s ’ow she wants it.’

  ‘But I don’t like to, Wyn,’ her companion said, her voice high-pitched with distress. ‘When my Charlie’s ship were missing for a time, Nell were that good to me. I want to help her now, like.’

  ‘Well, you can’t,’ Wyn said bluntly, ‘if she dun’t want your help.’ She sniffed. ‘Nor mine neither, it seems, and we’ve lived next door for years.’

  ‘Seems she only wants that lass that’s just come – the one that answered the door to us. What do they call ’er?’

  ‘Jeannie summat.’

  ‘She’s a nice enough lass, but they hardly know her, do they?’

  ‘She’s a Scottie though, ain’t she? Like Nell.’

  ‘A relation, y’mean?’

  ‘Don’t think so.’ The woman paused and then said, with an insight that was beyond Florrie’s comprehension, ‘Mebbe Nell finds it easier because the girl is a stranger.’

  Jeannie sighed and closed the door as the voices faded and became indistinct. Returning to the kitchen, she said, ‘Tom, I’ll need to go to ma work to see the foreman. Will you take a walk?’

  But Tom shook his head, not even looking up at her. He had sat before the fire during the whole of that time, moving only to answer the call of nature or to stoke up the fire and Nell had continued to work, non-stop, at her braiding.

  So Jeannie had been the only one to leave the house.

  ‘Take as long as you need, lass,’ the foreman had said. ‘We all know what’s happened and we know Grace, and you too since you’re staying with the family, will need a little time off. The other girls have said they’ll cover for you.’

  A lump came into Jeannie’s throat. ‘That’s very kind of them. Please thank them for me, will you?’

  ‘I will.’ The man, usually so brusque, was showing a kindness Jeannie had not seen in him before. ‘George Lawrence was a good skipper and a fine man. I feel for his family. Give Grace and her mam my best, will you?’

  Jeannie looked at him, puzzled. ‘You mean Grace isna here? At work?’

  ‘No. She didn’t come in this morning.’

  ‘Oh.’ Jeannie could not prevent the surprise from showing in her face. She had been worried enough when the girl had not come home the previous evening, but since neither Tom nor Nell had even mentioned it – in fact, they hardly seemed aware of it – Jeannie had waited until the morning to look for her. She had been so certain that Grace must have just stayed the night at a friend’s but that she would be at work today. Now the young girl was missing from her workplace too.

  Swiftly, Jeannie gave the foreman a weak smile. ‘I expect she’s gone down to the dockside. To – to watch . . .’ Her voice faded away.

  Poor Grace, she thought then. I must find her.

  Excusing herself, Jeannie hurried away towards the docks. It was still ea
rly, yet the fish market was in full swing. Row upon row of kits of fish lined the pontoon and buyers, resplendent in black suits and bowler hats, moved amongst the freshly landed fish whilst the incessant drone of the auctioneers’ voices could be heard above the general rabble. Men with barrows rushed backwards and forwards, carrying the sold fish ready to be transported to inland markets.

  Jeannie pushed her way through the throng, past all the jetties where now the ships were making ready to set sail once more in a few hours’ time. But there was no sign of Grace, no sign of a lonely figure far out at the end of one of the piers.

  Jeannie searched everywhere she could think of, but she could not find the girl.

  And now, standing facing Grace in the small back scullery, she felt both relief at seeing her safe but an overwhelming desire to shout at her for causing so much worry and at a time like this too.

  The girl’s face was suddenly mutinous. ‘You sound like me dad.’ The words were out before she thought and now Grace’s eyes filled with tears as she stared at Jeannie. ‘I – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you, but – but I couldn’t bear it here. I stayed the night with – with a friend . . .’ She lifted her head again. ‘Me mam didn’t know, did she?’

  ‘That you never came home at all? She must have done, but she’s never said a word. Not all night.’

  ‘What do you mean “all night”?’

  ‘She never went to bed again. Grace,’ Jeannie’s tone softened, ‘you should have been here to look after her. You’re her daughter. It’s you she needs. Not me. I’m a stranger.’

  Grace shook her head. ‘No, no, you can help her more than me. Really. Maybe it’s because you’re from her homeland and she still feels the pull. You know?’

  Oh yes, Jeannie knew. She felt the pull of home even more strongly now, and yet something still held her here and even now she couldn’t be sure that it was just because she wanted to stay and help these people who had befriended her.