The Fisher Lass Read online

  But I shall never, she told herself, know what it is to be loved by him.

  Twenty-Two

  Jeannie’s baby was due about a month after Grace’s, but when the expected date of the younger girl’s confinement came and passed by, Jeannie became concerned.

  ‘I wish Tom was home.’ A tiny vestige of hope still remained that he would help her shoulder the burden of worry. But, more than that, Jeannie needed to see her husband, needed his reassurance that he loved her and to prove to herself that she still loved him.

  ‘The men are best out of the way, hen,’ Nell was saying. ‘This is women’s work.’ It was the first time during the long months of waiting that Nell had shown any concern for her daughter.

  At once Jeannie decided to try to encourage Nell’s involvement. ‘Was your husband away at sea when your two were born?’

  Nell’s expression softened. ‘My George was different. Very different.’ She glanced at Jeannie and then away again, almost apologetically. ‘He was a fine man. One you could lean on, lass. But I’m afraid, Tom, though I love him dearly, mind, well, he’s not quite got the strength of character his father had.’

  Jeannie stared at her mother-in-law. She had never thought to hear such words from a mother’s lips. But she could not think about that now. Grace was more important. ‘Do you think we should get the midwife?’

  Nell pushed her spectacles up her nose. ‘Aye, you could.’

  ‘Please, won’t you go up and look at her. She hasna even got out of her bed all day.’

  ‘We’d soon know if it was coming, hen,’ Nell said. ‘We’d hear her down here.’

  Jeannie sighed and levered herself up from the chair by the range and reached up to the lamp to turn down the light.

  ‘Leave it, hen. I must stay a while and do a little more braiding.’

  Jeannie glanced over her shoulder at the older woman and shook her head. ‘You shouldna be staying up half the night at the nets. It isna right.’

  Nell sighed heavily. ‘I’ve got to do something, hen. It’s not fair to expect Tom to keep the lot of us.’

  ‘Then I’ll stay and help you.’

  ‘No, no . . .’ Nell now rose stiffly from the chair. ‘No, you away to your bed. I promise I’ll only bide an hour or so.’

  ‘We-ell . . .’ Jeannie said slowly. ‘Mind you do.’ And she wagged her forefinger in mock admonishment.

  At half past two in the morning Jeannie awoke to find Grace sitting up in bed beside her and moaning. When Tom was away, they shared the double bed in the front bedroom, Nell sleeping in the back room.

  ‘Is it the bairn, hen?’

  ‘I – think so.’ The girl leant back against the pillows, her face, in the low night-light they had kept burning through the dark hours for the past few nights, was wet with sweat.

  Jeannie heaved her bulk from the bed and began to dress hurriedly.

  ‘Don’t leave me, Jeannie,’ Grace gasped.

  ‘I must fetch the midwife. Mrs Jackson, isn’t it? The ship’s runner’s wife? I’ll wake your mother before I go.’

  ‘No, no, don’t. She only came up half an hour ago.’

  Jeannie clicked her tongue against her teeth in annoyance. ‘So much for her promise, eh?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Ne’er you mind, hen. Lie back and try to keep calm.’

  Ten minutes later she was banging on the door of number twenty at the bottom of the road. The window above opened and Mr Jackson, his bald head shining in the moonlight, his mouth shrunken in, squinted down into the street below.

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Jeannie Lawrence, Mr Jackson. Could you ask Mrs Jackson to come to Grace, please? It’s her time.’

  ‘She ain’t here.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Gone t’other side town. Midwife there’s ill and she’s ’ad to tek her place.’

  ‘Then who can I get?’

  The man shrugged. ‘Dunno. The doctor, I suppose.’

  Jeannie bit her lip. It would be costly, but they’d have to have someone. She had no idea what should be done. And by the look of Grace already, the birth was not going to be easy.

  But the doctor, too, was out on a call and when she returned home, she found Grace in a distressed state. Her cries had awakened Nell, who was standing beside her daughter’s bed, wringing her hands.

  ‘Jeannie, get help. We must have help.’

  Swiftly, Jeannie explained and added firmly, ‘There’s no one. We’ll just have to help her ourselves.’

  ‘If only George was here,’ Nell wailed and she pushed her fingers behind her glasses to wipe away the tears.

  ‘We can do it,’ Jeannie said. ‘You must tell me what to do . . .’

  The woman looked up with startled eyes. ‘Me? I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘But you’ve had two children of your own.’

  ‘Yes, but . . .’ She watched helplessly as Grace writhed in agony now. ‘But George was here. He fetched the midwife and stayed with me.’ The tears flowed afresh. ‘All the time.’

  Then the two women standing either side of the bed looked down at the girl in surprise as Grace gasped, ‘Aggie. Fetch Aggie. She’ll help me. She’ll know what to do.’

  Jeannie looked across at Nell, the question in her eyes.

  Nell was shaking her head vehemently. ‘I’ll no’ have that woman in ma hoose.’

  ‘But there is no one else and we need help,’ Jeannie argued.

  Nell leant across the bed. ‘If you fetch that woman in here, I’ll no’ speak to you again, Jeannie Lawrence, as long as I live.’

  Jeannie’s lips parted in a gasp of surprise. She had not realized that Nell’s hatred of the woman and all that she was supposed to be went so deep that she would put her own daughter’s life at risk. For, as Jeannie looked down at Grace, at the sweat running down her face, at the dark shadows of suffering beneath her eyes and the gaunt hollows of her cheeks, she knew it was exactly that. If they didn’t do something quickly, Grace’s life was ebbing away.

  Jeannie made her decision. ‘I’m sorry, but I must think of Grace. If Aggie Turnbull is the only hope we have, then . . .’ She said no more but turned swiftly away and hurried down the stairs again as quickly as her own cumbersome bulk would allow.

  Dawn was breaking as Jeannie hammered on the door of the notorious house two streets away from the Lawrence home. It took some minutes before the door was opened by a bleary-eyed Aggie herself.

  ‘Heavens!’ the woman uttered. ‘What on earth brings you to my door?’

  ‘It’s Grace. She’s come to her time and – and there’s something wrong. The midwife and the doctor are both out and – and—’

  ‘I’ll come at once,’ Aggie said and was already turning back towards the stairs.

  ‘I’ll go back now, but please, hurry.’

  The woman turned, resting her hand for a brief moment on the newel post at the foot of the stairs. ‘Does Nell know you’ve come for me?’

  Jeannie nodded. ‘Aye, but she doesna like it.’

  Again, the small smile. ‘No,’ she said softly, ‘I don’t expect she does.’ Briskly then, she said, ‘You go back, I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jeannie said simply.

  To Jeannie’s horror when she reached home again, Nell was standing in front of the net on the wall, seemingly calmly braiding and completely ignoring the desperate cries of the girl in the room above.

  Jeannie shook her head in disbelief but said, ‘She’s coming. I’ll get clean sheets ready and towels. What else do we need?’

  Nell made no sign of having heard. Her mouth tight, her shoulders rigid, her fingers worked faster and faster, only pausing to push her spectacles up the bridge of her nose every so often.

  Jeannie set the kettle to boil and a large pan of water too. Somewhere she’d heard about boiling water at such a time, but she didn’t know exactly what it was for. Back upstairs, she sponged Grace’s brow and stood helplessly whilst the girl gasped an
d groaned.

  Suddenly, Aggie was beside them, bending over Grace and saying gently, ‘Now then, my dear. Let me look at you.’ Swiftly, and to Jeannie’s inexperienced eye, Aggie examined the girl knowledgeably. Then she looked up at Jeannie and said quietly, ‘It’s not coming normally. You’ll have to get a doctor. I think it’s breech and with her being so small, it could be dangerous. She’s already weak.’

  Jeannie waited to hear no more but was already lumbering down the stairs again. Nell had drawn back the curtains and now Jeannie saw that it was full daylight.

  ‘I must find a doctor,’ she told Nell. ‘Something’s wrong. Please, go up to her, Mother.’ It was the first time Jeannie had used the name to Nell and she did it deliberately, trying to force Nell to overcome her prejudice and help her daughter. ‘She needs you.’

  But Nell continued to move between pantry and kitchen setting the table for breakfast as if everything within the household was just as normal. Exasperated and fearful of wasting any more time, Jeannie pulled on her coat and rushed into the street.

  The midwife was still not home, nor was the doctor.

  ‘Do you know of another doctor?’ she asked the maid who answered the surgery door, but the girl shook her head.

  Jeannie was almost frantic with worry and as she hurried down the steps and on to the pavement to cross the road, she almost stepped in front of a motor car. There was a squeal of tyres as the driver swerved to miss her. She stepped back and lifted her hand in apology, but the driver had drawn his motor to the side of the road and the noise of the engine died as he leapt down and came towards her.

  Oh no, Jeannie thought abstractedly. This is all I need. Some man giving me a telling off for not looking where I was going.

  But as she lifted her eyes and looked at the man coming towards her, her heart leapt with thankfulness. It was as if her prayers of the last few hours had been miraculously answered. Striding towards her was Robert.

  ‘Jeannie – are you all right. I didn’t hit you, did I?’

  ‘No, no.’ She managed to smile tremorously. Without consciously thinking what she was doing, she reached out with both her hands towards him and he took hold of them in his.

  ‘What is it?’ he said at once. ‘Something’s wrong, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s Grace. She’s been in labour half the night and – and the baby’s the wrong way round. The midwife’s away and so’s our doctor. Oh Mr Robert . . .’ Unaccustomed tears threatened to overwhelm her. She was exhausted and frightened.

  ‘I’ll find you a doctor.’

  As Jeannie opened her mouth to protest, Robert said quickly, ‘Please, at least let me do this. I can find one for you much quicker in the motor. And besides, it is my nephew or niece who’s about to be born, you know.’

  Jeannie closed her mouth and nodded swiftly. ‘Thank you. That would be kind of you.’

  For a brief moment they stared at each other and then he was running back towards his car.

  So, thought Jeannie, as she stood watching as Robert steered the car away from the pavement and sped down the road, at least one member of the Hayes-Gorton family is willing to acknowledge that the child is Francis’s.

  Twenty-Three

  It was while she was still bending over poor Grace, mopping the beads of sweat from the girl’s forehead, noticing how the girl’s face was now grey with fatigue, how the dark shadows beneath her eyes deepened to black rings, that Jeannie felt the first pain low in her groin.

  ‘Oh not now, please, not now.’

  She said nothing to anyone else and the pains, whilst persisting, were only at half-hourly intervals. For the moment her whole attention was upon Grace. The girl, weak with exhaustion, could no longer help Aggie and the doctor – the Gorton family’s own – bring her child into the world.

  ‘There’s nothing else for it,’ Jeannie heard the doctor mutter. ‘She’s slipping away from us.’

  Dimly, she was aware that the doctor had flung his instruments aside, rolled up his sleeve and – though she couldn’t quite be sure afterwards – seemed to delve into Grace and pull the infant from her with his bare hand. The young mother, now almost unconscious, gave only the faintest of gasps, though Jeannie imagined that the pain must have torn her apart.

  In contrast, four hours later, in Nell’s bed, Jeannie gave birth to a fine, lusty squalling boy who slipped into the world with the minimum of fuss and trouble. The doctor, returning on Robert’s insistence, examined her and pronounced Jeannie ‘as strong as an ox’ before shaking his head sadly and returning to the other bedroom that was strangely and ominously silent. There was not even the sound of a newborn baby’s wails.

  As Jeannie put her son to her breast for the first time, Aggie, standing watching, said, ‘It’s a good thing you’ve plenty of milk already, Jeannie. I’m very much afraid . . .’ her voice broke as she added, ‘that you’re going to have to feed two now.’

  Tired and triumphant, but certainly not exhausted, Jeannie looked up at her noticing, for the first time, that Aggie’s face was distraught.

  ‘What is it?’ Jeannie whispered, suddenly afraid. ‘Tell me?’

  ‘It’s Grace . . .’ The older woman’s face crumpled and tears welled in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. ‘She’s gone, my dear. Too weak to fight any more. And I don’t think she had the will.’

  Jeannie closed her eyes and bent her head over her tiny son, who, oblivious to his mother’s tears falling on to his downy head, sucked noisily at her breast. Then Jeannie raised her head and said, ‘Bring the child to me. Bring me Grace’s son.’

  A smile flickered briefly on Aggie’s face. ‘I knew you’d do it. I told Nell, you would. Salt of the earth, I told her. Jeannie’ll cope with the two of them.’

  ‘You’ve spoken to Nell?’ Jeannie asked in surprise. ‘How is she? Is she – all right?’

  Aggie lifted her shoulders. ‘I’ve tried to talk to her, but she won’t speak to me. Won’t leave that net on the wall to look at the babies.’ Harshly, she added, ‘Who knows what Nell Lawrence is thinking. She’s a hard woman.’

  But Jeannie was shaking her head. ‘No, no. It’s just her way of coping.’ And privately she thought, once Aggie was gone, out of the house, Nell would come up the stairs to see her two grandsons.

  But Nell did not mount the stairs, did not even come to see if there was anything Jeannie needed. She did not even come to see her still and silent daughter.

  Tom did not arrive home in time for his sister’s funeral though Jeannie waited as long as she could before arranging the ceremony. Robert came with the news. ‘The North Star has put into a small fishing port on the Scottish coast for urgent repairs. They’re all safe,’ he added hastily, reaching out in his concern to touch Nell’s hand, ‘I promise you, but they’re landing their catch there so they’ll be going straight back to sea. We have an agent in that area who’s arranging everything, so Tom won’t be home for a while. Although I could . . .’ he appeared to be thinking quickly, ‘send word for him to come home by train.’

  Quickly Nell shook her head. ‘No, no, sir. You’ve been very kind, but it would leave the crew short.’ Even amidst her own troubles, a small smile touched her lips. ‘And I know what trouble that causes. My – my George used to tell me that if they could stand, they had to be on deck.’ It was the first time Nell had spoken in the two days since Grace’s death.

  Robert smiled gently down at the woman who, over the past few months, had had so much tragedy to bear.

  And Jeannie. His Jeannie, as he thought of her within the secrecy of his own mind. She was still so young and yet womanhood had been thrust upon her. His glance went to her now as she bent over the two cradles, her beautiful hair falling around her face as she tucked the coverlet gently around her sleeping son. As she straightened up, her gaze met his and she gestured towards the other crib.

  ‘Would – would you like to see him?’ she asked quietly and Robert knew she was pointing to the child that was his brother’s son.
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  Robert nodded and moved forward to look down upon the tiny sleeping form. ‘Is he all right?’ he murmured. ‘I mean – I know the birth was very difficult and in the circumstances . . .’ His voice trailed away as he felt himself on delicate ground.

  ‘He’s fine. A little small, especially considering he was overdue, but poor Grace had been . . .’ She sighed. ‘Well, she didn’t look after herself properly. She was thin and ill even before the birth.’

  ‘I am so sorry.’

  Gently, she said, ‘It’s no’ your fault, nor ours either. We – her mother and me . . .’ Deliberately, she glanced at Nell not wanting the older woman to be excluded, trying to convey to her that she bore no grudge towards her mother-in-law for what had passed in this house on the day of Grace’s death or during all the months preceding it. She could understand how Nell had felt even though she did not condone her behaviour towards Grace. ‘We did all we could,’ Jeannie said, firmly including Nell and deliberately sharing in whatever emotions Nell must now be feeling. ‘But we both feel guilty for all that . . .’ She left the words hanging in the air. As Aggie had said, the poor girl had not had the will to go on living, not even for the sake of her child.

  Robert bent over the cradle and reached out with a gentle finger to touch the baby’s head. Wordlessly, he straightened up but stood looking down at the tiny scrap of humanity for a long time. Then he cleared his throat, turned to Jeannie and asked, ‘May – may I see your son?’

  ‘Of course.’ She gestured towards the other cradle where the infant also lay sleeping. Robert felt a moment’s surprise. Despite the fact that they had been born on the same day, this child looked much bigger than the other one. The fair, downy hair that covered his scalp already had a touch of ginger in it. Robert felt a fond smile twitch his mouth in spite of the sadness that was in this house. Already, he could tell which was Jeannie’s child.

  How he wished with all his heart that this child were his. He glanced back at the other cradle. But he did have a connection now to this family. A genuine reason for involving himself in their welfare. From his pocket, he took out two small silver coins and placed one on each pillow beside the sleeping baby boys.