The Fisher Lass (16 page)

She had thought about it constantly ever since he had first asked her and until this moment, she had still been unsure. Now, as she looked up into Tom’s eyes that were suddenly serious, he
said, ‘I love you, Jeannie. It would be so wonderful knowing that you were here to come home to. I’ll make you happy, I promise. Maybe one day, I could get a job ashore and then –
and then you wouldn’t have to spend your life watching and waiting.’ He paused and then added, ‘I’ll look after you, Jeannie. We’ll look after each other.’

She felt part of this family now, even whilst it was still coming to terms with a loss of its own. Perhaps that was the reason she felt such a kinship with the Lawrences.

She had a future to plan alongside this good man. He was offering her everything he had to give. What more could she ask?

Smiling, Jeannie said softly, ‘Aye, Tom, I will marry you.’

‘I hear that Scottish lass who’s been staying with the Lawrences is to marry the son. Tom, is it?’ Edwin said, not realizing what an effect the piece of news
would have on his brother.

‘What?’ Robert stared at him and before he had thought to stop the words, he said, ‘Jeannie is to marry Tom Lawrence?’

‘Well, yes, if that’s her name.’ Edwin paused and then added, ‘You seem to know her well?’

‘Er – oh – I – er . . .’ Robert stumbled and avoided his brother’s shrewd glance. ‘I got to know her – and the family – after George
Lawrence’s ship went down.’

Edwin nodded. ‘I know. Tom explained how you’d found him a berth aboard one of our ships since he lost his place with the Hathersage boat. I presume you spoke to Jackson?’

John Jackson was the ship’s runner employed by the Gorton Company. He was responsible for signing on the crews for each trip on every one of the fleet of fifteen vessels which the company
now owned.

Robert nodded. ‘He was amenable enough. He liked and respected George, but he did say . . .’ He paused briefly, but then continued, ‘He did say that the son was not the born
fisherman his father was. He reckoned young Lawrence would jump at the chance to have an excuse to miss a trip.’ He was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Personally, I thought Jackson was being
a bit harsh. I mean it was natural, wasn’t it, that Tom wanted to wait for news of his father?’ Slowly Robert shook his head. ‘I sometimes wonder where our humanity is, Edwin? I
don’t think our grandfather would have treated men like we sometimes treat them now? Do you?’

‘No, Rob. And
we
won’t, either.’

Robert smiled thinly, but without humour. ‘Maybe. Maybe not. We’re not going to be head of the company, are we?’

There was a happy, confident grin on Edwin’s face. ‘No, but there’s two of us to keep Francis in line. We’ll have a say. Don’t you worry.’

‘Mm.’ Robert was only half listening.

‘In fact,’ Edwin was saying, ‘I’ve already taken a managerial decision without asking either our dear brother, or father, if it comes to that. Tom Lawrence asked if he
could miss the next trip to get married and have a bit of a honeymoon, so I said he could.’

Now Robert was all attention as he frowned at his brother. ‘You did what?’

‘I said he could have time off,’ Edwin repeated patiently. ‘To get married. It seemed only fair.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t have given him any more time off, whatever the reason,’ Robert snapped, but even as he spoke he knew he was now guilty of being unreasonable. ‘Not
when we’re short of crews as it is.’

‘Hey, wait a minute. A moment ago you were saying you could understand him missing a trip when his father was feared lost and yet now—’

Robert interrupted harshly. ‘Maybe Jackson was right after all. Maybe Tom Lawrence will jump at every opportunity to stay warm and cosy at home. No doubt he thinks that I’ll
intercede for him every time he condescends to go to sea again. Well, I won’t.’ He jabbed his forefinger in the air towards his brother. ‘So just tell Jackson to watch him in
future. He’s to have no more time off. No more missed trips, else he’ll find he hasn’t a berth on a Gorton boat either.’ With that, Robert turned on his heel and left the
office slamming the door behind him.

The thought filled his mind and clouded his reason. Jeannie Buchanan – that lovely, red-haired, feisty girl, with green eyes and a wide, smiling mouth – was to marry Tom
Lawrence.

He must talk to her. She couldn’t marry Tom. She couldn’t marry anyone. He must stop her.

‘Can I be your bridesmaid then?’

Jeannie smiled at the excited young girl, pleased for once to see that Grace had something to interest her other than disappearing every night to be with her friends. Remembering an earlier
conversation, she was now beginning to worry that Grace was meeting some boy. Someone of whom her mother would disapprove.

‘Of course you can,’ she said aloud, ‘but we’re not having a fancy white wedding. I thought you knew that. We’ve planned a very quiet affair. Just – just
family. I mean, just you and your mother. It wouldn’t be right, in the circumstances,’ she said, referring to the fact that the Lawrence family were still within the expected period of
mourning. Flatly she added, ‘And there’ll be no one from my side, anyway.’

‘Yes, yes, but you’ll have a pretty new dress surely and carry flowers? So, couldn’t I too?’

‘We’ll see. We’ll see what your mother thinks.’

But Nell agreed with her daughter. ‘George wouldna have wanted us to spoil your day, hen,’ she said and added wistfully, ‘and he’d have been so pleased to see his son
wedding a Scottish lassie.’

‘Are you really sure, Jeannie? I mean, you haven’t known him very long, have you?’

Jeannie stared up into the face of Robert Hayes-Gorton and her lips parted, the angry retort ready to spurt out. But she bit back the words, quite literally for she felt the sharpness of her
teeth on the tip of her tongue. His dark brown eyes were looking into hers with such impassioned intensity that it was impossible for her to doubt that his concern was genuine.

Had she really misjudged this young man? Already, before today, she had seen his little acts of kindness but she had closed her mind and hardened her heart against him. Now, close to him,
looking up into his face, she felt her resolve to hate him begin to crumble.

Before she had time to form a reply he was speaking again. The words came haltingly, as if he were voicing aloud, perhaps for the first time, his innermost feelings. And that he found it
difficult and painful was obvious. ‘Jeannie. I couldn’t bear to see you make a terrible mistake. If – if I tell you something, it’s just between the two of us?’ He
waited until she gave a slight nod in assent. Then she heard him let out a long deep sigh.

‘I’ve made the most dreadful mistake in marrying Louise. It’s not her fault,’ he added hastily, ‘or mine. But we’ve both allowed ourselves to be pushed into a
marriage of – of convenience. A marriage our families wanted. I thought I did too. At least – what I mean is – oh this is dreadfully difficult . . .’ He ran his hand
distractedly through his hair. ‘I don’t even know if I should be saying this to you, but you see, from the moment I saw you . . . What I mean is, if I were still free, then – then
I could speak, say all the things that are in my heart. But I’m not, and I – I can’t. And now you’re going to be married too.’ Now his voice faded away and he just
stood gazing at her helplessly.

And Jeannie just stood there too, looking back at him, for she could not think of a word to say.

Now, his voice hoarse with emotion, Robert just said, ‘Please, Jeannie, just be sure. Very sure.’

And then he was gone, leaving her just staring after him.

Jeannie told no one of the incident. There was no one in whom she could confide such a thing. Maybe if Flora or Mary had still been here in Havelock, but they were long gone.
They’d likely be back home in Scotland now. Aye, back home. Jeannie sighed at the thought. Was she really doing the right thing in marrying Tom? Mr Robert’s strange, almost impassioned
plea, had at least made her stop and think. His words had forced her to take stock.

She was sure that Tom loved her in his own bluff way, but he was not a demonstrative man. She didn’t expect him to be. To Jeannie, men were like her father; strong, courageous and
hardworking and they showed their love for their families in their actions. In going to sea and doing a very dangerous job to earn a living.

Jeannie was not used to the manners of a gentleman who, in her opinion, did little or nothing to earn his own living, but prospered on the toil of others. She had never encountered a man who
made flowery speeches or showered a woman with expensive gifts. To her mind, Robert had no right to speak to her as he had done, though she did acknowledge that his words were genuine.

The thought that he felt something for her shocked her. Not so much from a moral standpoint as that she could not believe that a man in his position should even notice someone like her.

He’s just feeling guilty still, she told herself and tried to put the incident from her mind. But for many nights leading up to her wedding, her dreams were troubled by Robert’s
face, his dark eyes and his voice saying ‘Are you really sure, Jeannie?’

On the eve of their wedding day, Jeannie was mystified by Nell and Grace.

Nell spent the early part of the evening forever glancing at the kitchen clock and then, on the stroke of seven, she said suddenly, ‘Awa’ to the Fisherman’s, son, and give us
women a bit o’ peace. We’ve things to do for the morrow that you shouldna be seeing.’

Tom grumbled, but he got up, put on his jacket and left the house.

Jeannie eyed the two women suspiciously. They seemed to be sharing a secret, whispering and giggling and trying, yet failing, to stifle their amusement

‘What’s going on?’ she said at last. ‘I hope you’re no’ planning tricks on me. Sewing ma nightdress up or something.’

Mother and daughter exchanged a glance and then burst into laughter. ‘We hadn’t thought of that, Mam,’ Grace said.

‘We should ha’ done, hen.’ Again, they smiled at each other. ‘Shall we tell her now he’s gone?’

Grace nodded.

‘The lads at the pub are going to have a wee bit of fun with your bridegroom. He’ll no’ be coming home in the state he went out.’

Jeannie groaned. ‘Och, you dinna mean he’s going to get drunk?’

‘Aye well, a little merry, maybe. But no, they’re going to wash his feet . . .’

‘But first,’ Grace gasped between peals of laughter and holding her side as if she had a stitch, ‘they’re going to smear his feet with shoe blackening, just to make it
worth the washing.’

Nell chuckled. ‘And if I know the lads round here, it won’t stop at just his feet.’

‘Oh, oh, stop it, Mam. Me side’s aching wi’ laughing so much.’

Jeannie felt the corners of her own mouth begin to twitch. Their laughter was infectious.

‘Wait a while, till they bring him home,’ Nell said. ‘There’ll be plenty to laugh at then.’

At ten thirty, they heard the commotion out in the street and hurried to fling open the front door and stand watching the merriment. Jeannie glanced at Grace, wondering if she were remembering
the last occasion when they had witnessed the antics of a stag night, but the girl was convulsed with laughter watching her brother being borne down the street, plastered with black polish and
covered from head to toe in flour. His tormentors had been thoughtful enough to remove his jacket and trousers, so Tom was being carried, shoulder high and amid much shouting and laughing, along
the street in his shirt and long-johns.

‘There you are, Jeannie lass.’ A burly fisherman, who Jeannie knew was the third-hand on the same ship as Tom, came to stand in front of her. ‘Here’s your handsome
bridegroom.’

Entering into the fun, Jeannie said, ‘Thanks, but I’ll no’ be wanting him now. You can keep him.’ Mischievously, she linked her arm through the big man’s and said,
‘Are you doing anything in the morning, Jack Brightman?’

The man’s eyes twinkled and he laughed loudly. ‘Don’t temp’ me, lass. Don’t temp’ me.’ He winked at her. ‘Shame, like, but I reckon the
wife’d have summat to say about that, don’t you?’

‘Bring him in,’ Nell was saying. ‘We’ll strip him down and wash him properly, now.’

‘Oh,’ Jeannie shrieked and, feigning coyness, she put her hands to her cheeks. ‘Oh pray, spare my blushes.’ She turned and hurried away into the house, the sound of their
laughter following her.

It was all good, if not quite ‘clean’ in the literal meaning of the word, fun, and Jeannie was grateful to Tom’s pals for helping to lighten what was, in part, going to be a
poignant occasion for the Lawrence family. And for her too, she thought soberly, for on her wedding day there would be no father to give her away.

But he’ll be there in spirit, she comforted herself. I know he will.

At the window of his office, Robert stood staring down into the bustling docks below him. To the west he could see the spire of the church where he knew, at this very moment,
Jeannie was making her vows to love and to cherish Tom Lawrence and to remain his wife until death do us part.

He had realized, when Edwin had told him of their marriage plans, that he had fallen in love with Jeannie Buchanan and he had not been able to stop himself going to see her. Remembering his
halting, puerile babblings, he groaned with embarrassment. How foolish and weak she must think him. Though she had said very little, in fact now he thought about it, she had said nothing at all,
but he had read in the depths of those beautiful green eyes, her puzzled expression.

Perhaps she had even believed him to be drunk again. Perhaps she had not even understood what he had been trying to say. No doubt she had just dismissed him from her mind and thought no more
about his near declaration of love. In fact now, standing here looking across at the church, he could not really remember what he had said. All he could remember was that he had wanted her to be
absolutely sure that she wanted to marry Tom.

Tom Lawrence. How Robert envied him at this moment.

He sighed and turned away from the window and picked up his hat and cane. He would walk to the church in time to see them come out. He patted the inside pocket of his jacket, feeling the rustle
of the white envelope that contained a cheque. It was his wedding present to Jeannie. He could neither write nor say the words that were in his heart but with this gift would go all his loving
wishes that at least she would be happy.