The Fisher Lass (28 page)

‘Well, I’m signing no papers to let you go anywhere. Either of you.’

‘But we look old enough.’ It was Sammy who was persisting.

They did. She had to admit that. They both had fair hair and blue eyes, but there the similarity ended. Joe was the taller; he was going to be a big man like both his grandfathers as he matured
and broadened out. Even now, his shoulders were muscular and his slim hips belied his strength. Already he had been at sea for a year as a deckie on one of the few battered old trawlers that still
ventured into the mine-ridden waters of the North Sea. Sammy, too, was a deck-hand on a Gorton-Hathersage ship that was too old and dilapidated to be of interest to the authorities.

‘Dad’ll clear the channels for us,’ he’d say jokingly, but Jeannie knew he was only trying to reassure her. ‘He’ll know where we’re going.’

For the most part Joe was jovial and outgoing. The life and soul of the party, Jeannie heard him described by his pals in the Fisherman’s. But his temperament was volatile; he could switch
from laughter to rage in a second. And, to Jeannie’s disappointment, though he was more of a born fisherman than Tom, he seemed to have inherited his father’s streak of jealousy and
resentment. Throughout their childhood it had always been Joe who had started the fights with Sammy, rather than, as one might have expected, the other way about.

Sammy was smaller, but stockily built. He was the quieter of the two with a placidity that belied his strength of character. He would never begin a quarrel, but once challenged he would defend
himself ferociously and usually, to everyone’s surprise, emerge the victor. A deep thinker, Jeannie judged him, who would weigh up the pros and cons of a situation before making his decision.
Yet once that decision was made, he would not waver, despite whatever pressures were put upon him.

Jeannie suspected that this trait was inherited from his natural father. She was thankful, though, that whilst the boy vaguely resembled Francis Hayes-Gorton in looks, she was sure he had none
of the man’s cold, ruthless streak. When Sammy smiled, his eyes twinkled with warmth and merriment and his face creased disarmingly. A fact that had not escaped the notice of the young girls
in the neighbourhood.

So she still found herself turning towards Sammy, for she knew instinctively that whereas Joe would be caught up in the glamour of being a hero, Sammy would have been the one to think it out
carefully.

‘We won’t be in that much more danger than we are now, Mam,’ he said quietly and she knew he could read the anxiety in her face.

Jeannie sighed inwardly and tried another tack. ‘How would I manage Grandma without your help? At least you’re home fairly regularly now.’

Nell needed constant supervision, for though she was physically well, her mind wandered so badly now that she scarcely seemed to know where she was, what time of day it was or even that there
was a war going on all around them. Getting her to the Anderson shelter which the boys had constructed in the back-yard was as big a battle as any fought in the front line and without Sammy’s
patient coaxing and wheedling the old lady when he was home, Jeannie thought, she’d never get Tom’s mother to safety.

The boys said nothing now but exchanged a glance that spoke more than words could. ‘And dinna you go planning to run away to sea together . . .’ Jeannie began and as they both
glanced at her with the same guilty look, she knew she had been shrewd in her guess.

But they went anyway. Four days later she found a note on the kitchen table saying that they had done just that.

‘We’re sorry, Mam,’ the note said in Joe’s untidy scrawl, ‘but me and Sam have got to go.’ And in Sammy’s neat handwriting were the words, ‘Take
care of yourself and Gran. Please don’t be cross. Love Sammy.’

She crumpled the note. She wasn’t cross, she thought as she bit her lip to try to stop the tears from flooding her eyes and spilling down her cheeks.

Just so terribly alone.

‘I wouldn’t have believed it possible,’ Tom was still complaining. ‘After two years sweeping the bloody North Sea, we’re still on the same ship. I
thought at least when that mine blew our ship up we might get drafted to different ships then. But no, here we are still the same happy little band. We even got into the same lifeboat.’ His
voice dropped to a low growl. ‘Given half a chance, I’d have let the bugger drown.’

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Jeannie was exasperated now and only half-listening. Nell had wandered out in the street and had gone missing and all Tom could do was rant on
about how badly life was treating him.

‘Mr flaming Robert Hayes-Gorton. That’s who I’m talking about. Only he’s a bloody lieutenant now, ain’t he? I’m still taking orders from him.’ He
punched one fist into the palm of his other hand. ‘If there’d been any justice in the world,
I’d
have been over
him
. Bloody trawler owners! Reckon they rule the
bloody world.’

Calmly Jeannie said, ‘I expect it’s because he joined the RNR sometime before the war started.’

‘How do you know that?’ Tom rounded on her and, at once, Jeannie realized her mistake. Luckily she remembered how she had come by the information.

‘You told me.’

‘Oh. Did I?’ Tom was fazed for a moment and muttered, ‘Mebbe I did, but I still think he’s done it on purpose.’ He glowered at Jeannie as if the whole thing were
her fault. ‘Mebbe he’s going to pick his moment when no one’s looking and toss me overboard.’

‘Never mind all that just now and do stop swearing. Help me find your mother. If she gets into the town, we’ll never find her.’

‘Then you should look after her better. You’ve nowt else to do all day now me and the boys have gone.’

‘I’m doing a bit of war work like all the other women round here.’

Tom gave a humourless laugh. ‘Oh aye. I’ve heard that one before. Supplying comforts for the troops. Aye . . .’ His face darkened. ‘Comforts for the troops billeted in
the town, I don’t doubt. Setting up in opposition to Aggie Turnbull, are ya?’

Her hand flew threw the air of its own volition and her palm met the side of his face with a loud smack. He gripped her wrists and for a moment they stood glaring at each other, breathing
heavily, their faces only inches apart.

‘What the hell did you do that for?’

‘I’m sick of your snide remarks, Tom Lawrence. I havena done anything – you hear me – anything to deserve them.’

He stared at her and then his face seemed to crumple and he flung his arms about her and pulled her to him in a fierce embrace that was more like a child clinging to its mother than the embrace
of a husband for his wife. His cheek was against her hair. ‘Jeannie, oh Jeannie. I’m sorry. It’s just . . .’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I’m so bloody
scared, that’s all.’

Jeannie did not answer him but just held him tightly. Knowing what he must be feeling, she tried to comfort him, tried to give him strength and courage. But who was there to comfort her? Who was
there to help her cope alone with Nell and the worry of the men of her family who were in the front line of the war.

And then there was her secret worry. Always, in a special corner of her heart, there was Robert.

It was more than eleven years since he had last stood on this doorstep. And now he felt like a nervous schoolboy, or a young bashful cadet instead of a lieutenant in the smart
uniform with the wavy rings around his sleeves. He found he was holding his breath as she opened the door.

At once he could see the changes. There were a few strands of white amongst the still thick and luxuriant hair. Though there were tiny lines around her eyes and dark shadows of strain and
tiredness beneath them, they were still bright and sharp as they widened at the sight of him. She was as slim and lithe as ever and the smile that Robert had so longed to see for him alone was on
her mouth. And now, after all this time, it was for him.

‘Robert . . .’ She said the name by which she always thought of him before she could stop herself. Swiftly, she said, ‘I’m sorry, Mr Robert . . .’

He was smiling down at her, saying softly in the deep voice she remembered so well, ‘I prefer it without the Mr.’

Her smile faded and anxiety clouded her eyes. Her joy at seeing him – private joy though that must be – was obliterated by the thought that he was the bearer of bad news.

‘What is it? Is it Tom?’ It dawned on her, swiftly now, that whilst Robert was obviously on leave, Tom had not arrived home at the same time. ‘Has something happened to
him?’

‘No, no,’ Robert said quickly, suddenly realizing what she must be thinking. ‘He’s fine. I’ve been granted compassionate leave because my father’s ill.
He’s dying, Jeannie.’

‘Och, I’m sorry. Please, won’t you come in.’ She opened the door wider.

In the front parlour, he perched awkwardly on the old couch.

‘Can I get you anything? A drink or . . .?’ she began, but he shook his head.

‘No, no, thank you.’ He cleared his throat in embarrassment. ‘Jeannie, this is very difficult, but I’ve come to ask a favour of you. At least, if it’s
possible.’

She said nothing but her gaze was on his face and he was having trouble remaining in his seat, when what he really wanted to do was to take her in his arms and tell her just what he felt about
her. He cleared his throat and said, ‘Does Sammy know the truth? About his birth and – and who his father is?’

‘Aye,’ she nodded. ‘He found out when he was about thirteen.’ Her tone hardened slightly. ‘Joe told him.’

‘Really? But he’s never – I mean – doesn’t he want to meet us? His family. I mean, the other side of his family?’ he amended swiftly.

Jeannie shook her head. ‘No. He’s adamant he wants nothing to do with the Hayes-Gortons.’

‘Oh,’ Robert said and his tone was flat with disappointment.

‘Why, does it matter?’ she asked and then allowed herself a wry smile. ‘I’d have thought you’d’ve all been quite relieved that you weren’t facing a
paternity suit or that he was trying to lay claim to the Hayes-Gorton millions.’

Now Robert smiled too. ‘Scarcely millions. But in fairness, he ought to have a share in the company. If only Francis would acknowledge him.’ He sighed heavily.

‘I dinna think he ever will,’ Jeannie said bitterly.

‘But young Samuel’s his all right. Oh, you haven’t known, Jeannie, but even though I had to stop coming here, I’ve still watched the boy grow up. I used to make some
excuse to visit the school where he was, just so that I could see him. He never knew,’ he added hastily. ‘I’d make a point of talking to all the children so that it never looked
as if I was singling out Samuel – Sammy you call him, don’t you?’

He even knew that, she thought, as she nodded in answer.

‘I never wanted to be the cause of him learning the truth.’

There was silence between them for a moment as they sat gazing at each other. Only a few feet lay between them and yet the gulf that separated them was as wide and as deep as the Humber and the
currents were as treacherous as those of the river.

‘So why,’ she said softly at last, breaking the spell their silence was casting around them, ‘are you here?’

‘My father always wanted a grandson. More than anything he wanted to know that there was another generation for his company to pass on to.’ Robert sighed. ‘He doesn’t see
that perhaps at the end of this war there might be precious little company left for anyone to inherit.’

Surprised, Jeannie asked, ‘Do you mean he knows about Sammy?’

Robert nodded. ‘Over the years he’s heard rumours that the boy you’re bringing up as your own could be his grandson.’

There was a tense silence before Jeannie said, ‘And?’

‘He’s asked to see him.’

Now her mouth dropped open in a gasp of surprise. ‘You’re not serious?’

Solemnly, he nodded. ‘Very.’

Bluntly, she said, ‘I don’t think Sammy’ll agree. Besides, he’s not here. They’re at sea. Both of them.’

‘I know. Their ship docks in Hull the day after tomorrow and I could arrange for Sammy to be granted compassionate leave.’

‘Is there anything you don’t know about this family?’ she asked tartly.

‘Not much,’ he admitted and grinned with such disarming boyishness that Jeannie found herself smiling too.

‘Well, you can try,’ she said slowly, but the doubt was evident in her tone. ‘Just so long as you make sure he knows straightaway that his compassionate leave has nothing to do
with this family. You see,’ she added, glancing towards the ceiling indicating the bedroom above where they were sitting, ‘Mrs Lawrence is not well now and he would immediately think .
. .’

Robert stood up. ‘Of course. I’ll go myself to meet him off the ship and I’ll mind I’m the one to explain everything to him.’

‘He might not want to come even then.’

‘That’s a risk I’ll have to take. My father has set his heart on seeing the boy. In fact, he seems to be hanging on to life just for that. I must do what I can.’

‘Be sure to tell Sammy that,’ Jeannie said quietly. ‘He’s a good boy at heart.’

‘I’m sure he is, if you’ve had the raising of him, Jeannie. But I have to remember that he has Francis’s blood in his veins too. And my dear brother can be quite ruthless
when he’s a mind. As we all know to our cost.’

To this remark, Jeannie had no answer.

Robert had waited a long time whilst the ship went through its docking procedure and the crew were allowed to step ashore. But at last he was standing on the quayside as the
young sailors ran down the gangway, hit the solid ground, staggered for a moment, and then rushed forward to greet their loved ones waiting to meet them.

Then he saw them, almost the last to leave the ship, coming down the gangway, Joe in the front, leading the way.

Robert stepped forward. ‘Excuse me. Might I have a word?’

The two young men stopped and, recognizing him at once, Joe said, ‘What’s wrong? Is it me dad?’

‘No, no,’ Robert said swiftly. ‘All your family are well.’

Mystified now, Joe and Sammy glanced at each other and then both turned their gaze back upon Robert, who took a deep breath and said, ‘I have a favour to ask of Sammy.’