The Fisher Lass (32 page)

He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. ‘Oh Jeannie. I would do anything to spare you pain. I would even – even have sacrificed my own life if it would have brought back the
man you love.’

She could not tell him, she could not say the words, for it would have felt so wrong, would have been wicked at this moment. But never before had she loved him quite as much as she did now,
sitting opposite him, watching the lines of sadness etched deeply upon his face knowing that he had fought with a desperate bravery to save Tom, risking his own life, not so much for the man
himself, but to bring her husband back to her.

How very much at this moment she loved Robert Gorton. But her mouth remained closed and the words unspoken.

The boys were given compassionate leave and they stood either side of Jeannie and Nell during the memorial service in the church where she had married Tom and where too, years
before, Nell had married George. Jeannie mourned her husband deeply and sincerely. He had been a good man and she had loved him, perhaps in the way that one loves a brother or a good friend, but
not, she knew now, as a lover with a searing, consuming passion. She had never felt the trembling of her knees nor the pounding of her heart nor the sudden dryness in her throat for Tom as she felt
when she saw Robert.

He was standing behind her now. A little way back from the family mourners, keeping a respectful distance. As they came out of the church and into the grey November day, Jeannie made as if to
move towards him, but Joe, his arm firmly through hers, steered her towards the curving pathway leading to the gate.

‘What’s he doing here?’ Sammy, on her other side, muttered.

‘He has a right to be here,’ Jeannie said. ‘He tried to save your father and he was his employer. He’s just come to pay his respects. And another thing. That medal
they’ve awarded Tom, well, who do you think put in the recommendation, eh?’

Joe, from his lanky height, looked down at her. ‘Well, it wouldn’t be him. If you believe that, Mam, then you’ve not the sense you were born with.’

‘Joe!’ She looked up at him and despite herself, angry tears filled her eyes.

‘Don’t talk to Mam like that,’ Sammy put in. He was still smaller than Joe and always would be, but he had taken up boxing and now iron muscles rippled beneath his uniform.
Jeannie had the feeling that in the future Joe would not be so ready to pick a fight with his cousin and wondered if that was the very reason that Sammy had taken up the sport.

But Joe was not awed by Sammy’s new-found strength. ‘I’ll talk to
my
mam any way I want, thank you very much.’

Suddenly Jeannie was angry with the pair of them. ‘Don’t start. Not here. Not now. Look to your Gran, both of you.’ She glanced at them, leaving neither in any doubt as to her
feelings as she said pointedly, ‘She is grandmother to you both, after all.’

Then she pulled her arm from Joe’s, turned deliberately around and marched back towards Robert. Defiantly, she held out her hand towards him and said clearly, ‘I want to thank you
for all you did to try to save my husband. Please excuse my boys. They are too distressed today to know their duty.’

Then before giving him chance to reply Jeannie turned away again, back towards her family. She took hold of Nell’s arm and said kindly, but firmly, ‘Come, Gran, it’s time we
were away home.’

As they left the churchyard, she did not look back towards Robert, but beneath the trees near the wall she suddenly spotted another figure, dressed from head to toe in black, a veil over her
face.

Aggie Turnbull.

‘So, are you going to open your letters, then?’

Sammy scowled towards the mantelpiece. ‘There’ll be nowt I want to read in them,’ he muttered.

‘Aw, go on, Sam. At least see what they say,’ Joe encouraged, but Sammy’s scowl only deepened.

‘Oh well, in that case . . .’ Jeannie said, stepping towards the hearth and reaching up for the two envelopes. ‘I left them for you because they’re addressed to you and
even though you are still underage legally and I have every right, I thought . . .’ She held the letters in her hands now, turned one over and made as if to open it. ‘Seeing as
you’re doing a man’s work now, you’d a right to handle your own affairs. Seems I was wrong.’

As she slid her finger under the flap to tear it open, Sammy lunged forward and snatched the letters from her hands. ‘I’ll open them mesen when I’m good an’
ready.’

Jeannie shrugged. ‘Well, they’ve been sat there for weeks now. You’d best get on with it.’

Glowering, Sammy slit open the envelopes and unfolded the letters, smoothing them out on the table. Then, reading the dates, he picked up the first one. Jeannie and Joe watched the expression on
his face alter as he read. First there was surprise and disbelief, then a brief delight. Then as he scanned the second letter, his face grew red with anger. Suddenly, he picked up both letters and
tore them into shreds.

‘Wait a minute . . .’ Jeannie reached out. ‘Whatever are you doing?’

‘I want none of it,’ Sammy muttered through clenched teeth. ‘I want nowt to do with any of them. You’re me family. Not them. I don’t want to be a – a
Hayes-Gorton.’

He stepped towards the range as if to throw the pieces of paper on to the fire, but Joe barred his way. ‘Oh no, you don’t. Not till you’ve told us properly what’s in them
letters.’

They began to struggle, gripping each other’s shoulders, wrestling to gain supremacy, whilst the fragments of the paper fluttered to the floor.

‘Stop it, both of you, else I’ll bang your heads together . . .’ And when they didn’t stop at her bidding, Jeannie did just that, their two skulls coming together with a
crack.

‘Ow!’

‘What did ya do that for, Mam?’ Joe said ruefully, rubbing his head.

‘If you behave like bairns, then I’ll treat you like bairns. Now then, son . . .’ She turned to Sammy. ‘You just sit down at that table and piece those letters together
and tell us what’s in them that’s made you so angry.’

Grudgingly, Sammy picked up the scraps of paper and began, like tackling a jigsaw puzzle, to sort out the pieces.

‘The first letter said that old man Hayes-Gorton . . .’ he still refused, Jeannie noticed, to refer to Samuel as his grandfather ‘left me 17 per cent of the shares in the
Gorton-Hathersage Trawler Company.’

Joe whistled. ‘Blimey, Sam, you’re rich.’

Sammy’s mouth tightened. ‘Huh, that’s not all. The second letter, would you believe, ses that Francis Hayes-Gorton left the whole of his fortune divided equally between Louise
Hayes-Gorton and his natural son . . .’ Jeannie saw Sammy raise his eyes and look straight at her. ‘Samuel Lawrence.’

Now Jeannie felt her legs give way beneath her and she sat down heavily on a chair, resting her arms on the table. ‘He acknowledged you? After all this time of denying your existence, he
actually says that – that you’re his son?’

‘Seems like it.’ Sammy was still tight-lipped.

‘Why did he leave the other half to her?’ Joe put in, puzzled. ‘She’s Mr Robert’s wife, ain’t she?’

Jeannie saw Sammy look up at Joe. Now there was a smirk on his face. ‘Bit of gossip that’s missed those flapping ears of yours, our Joe? Mr Francis and Mr Robert’s wife were .
. .’ He glanced swiftly at Jeannie. ‘Well, y’know.’

Joe blinked for a moment or two and then his face cleared. ‘Oh, I get yer. My God! Were they really?’ He thought for a moment and then with a sly glance towards his mother said,
‘Well, suppose you can’t blame her if her husband went visiting elsewhere . . .’

It did not go unnoticed by Jeannie, but for once she chose to let the innuendo pass.

‘So, Sammy,’ she said instead, ‘you’re a man of means now, are you?’

He stood up, shoving all the pieces of paper into a heap again, though this time he made no effort to burn them. ‘No, I aren’t. I don’t want none of it. You hear me? Not one
penny.’

He left the room and they heard the back-door slam.

‘Silly bugger!’ Joe muttered. For once Jeannie did not reprimand him.

Robert came to see her later the same afternoon, knocking on the door and standing hesitantly outside on the street, until she persuaded him to step across the threshold. She
ushered him into the front parlour and invited him to sit down. He declined and instead stood awkwardly in the centre of the room twirling his cap between restless fingers.

‘I’m not going back to sea yet. I have what they call survivors’ leave.’ He paused and she guessed that he was feeling guilty because he was a survivor and Tom was not.
He cleared his throat and went on. ‘I just came to see if there was anything I could do. If there was anything you need.’

‘We’re fine. At least,’ Jeannie smiled sadly, ‘as fine as we can be.’

‘I know. It must be very hard for you, especially with the boys away too. Very hard. And the old lady?’

His words were like a jolt. Old lady! Was that how he thought of Nell Lawrence? Perhaps it was how everyone thought of her now? Well, she supposed with a shock, Nell was old now and she probably
looked older than her years anyway.

Jeannie sighed and shrugged. ‘I’m not even sure she understands what’s happened. That Tom has gone.’

Robert nodded and said again, ‘It must be very difficult for you.’

There was an awkward silence between them and a tension too. Jeannie felt it and knew he must feel it also. She had the overwhelming desire to fling herself into his arms, knowing that he would
hold her and comfort her and take care of her.

But she could not. He would be going back to sea. He was leaving and there was always the possibility that he would not return. In that moment, she knew that she had to tell him. She could not
let him leave her not knowing how she felt about him.

‘Please, won’t you sit down a moment.’

‘I must go, I . . .’ Then she saw him hesitate and knew that there was something in her face that made him move to a chair and perch uncomfortably on the edge of it. She sat down
opposite him and clasped her hands so tightly in front of her that her knuckles were white.

‘I’m going to say something to you now. I should not be saying it. Not now. Not so soon after Tom’s death and on the very day we’ve held a service for him. I’ll
probably be condemned to eternal damnation for it.’ She gave a wry smile and hurried on. ‘And I don’t want you to say – or do anything – when I’ve said it. I
just want you to go. But it has to be said. I – I can’t let you go back without you knowing – how – how I feel about you.’

She saw him start physically, saw the flame of hope leap into his eyes. He breathed her name, ‘Jeannie.’ Just that. Just her name. ‘Jeannie.’

‘I was very fond of Tom,’ she went on. ‘He was a good man. A good husband and father and I – I thought I could love him.’

She thought back now in her own mind, but not saying the words aloud, how she had believed that Tom Lawrence would be like his father who had reminded her so much of her own beloved father. She
had been disillusioned and yet she was still able to say quite truthfully that Tom had been a good man.

‘I loved him but I was never
in love
with him. I never knew what it was to fall in love until . . .’ She licked her lips nervously. ‘Until I met you.’

‘Jeannie . . .’ He was up and out of his chair and taking the two strides that it took to reach her.

‘No, no,’ she cried and held up her hands, palms outwards, to fend him off. ‘Please, don’t. Don’t say or do anything. It wouldn’t – wouldn’t be
right. It’s bad enough that – that I’m even saying this at all. Please . . . don’t.’

Reluctantly he sank back into the chair.

Flatly now, she said, ‘I just had to say something. I couldn’t let you go back without – without telling you. I mean, Havelock could be bombed or you could . . .’ The
words stuck in her throat.

His face was serious but there was more life and hope in his eyes than she could ever remember seeing. ‘I’ll come back to you, Jeannie. I promise you. And you – you take care
of yourself.’

He rose from his chair. ‘And now I must go or I shall be guilty of an action that I might well feel ashamed of.’ They looked at each other, their eyes meeting as they both
remembered. He smiled and said softly, ‘And I wouldn’t want that to happen. Not again.’

As he passed close to her on his way to the door, he touched her shoulder gently. ‘Remember I love you, Jeannie, as I have never loved another woman in my life. It feels as if I have loved
you for ever.’

And then he was gone, closing the door behind him. As she heard the back-door close too, Jeannie picked up a cushion from the sofa and buried her face against it to stifle the sobs that would no
longer be held in check.

Robert felt guilty at feeling so happy. It didn’t seem right that he should be so full of hope and actually, for the first time for as long as he could remember, looking
forward to the future. Not when that future was only going to happen because of the death of two people: his wife Louise and Tom Lawrence. And yet, he couldn’t help it. But for a while he
must keep his happiness in check. He was still supposed to be mourning his wife and paying respectful tribute to a man who had been his employee and a shipmate in wartime.

But privately Robert dreamt of a future with Jeannie and he couldn’t stop himself from making plans. After the war was over – and it must be soon – he would return home. He
would pay court to Jeannie properly and openly and after a decent interval they would be married. He would sell the house Louise had furnished and decorated with her own individual taste. It had
never, for a moment, been his and he would buy Jeannie another home. No, no, he corrected himself, this time they would buy one together.

So it was with a happy heart and bounce in his step that Robert strode up the gangway of the minesweeper with an air of ‘Let’s get this damned war finished and get home
again’.

Now why, Jeannie questioned over the following days, had Aggie attended Tom’s funeral? She was deliberately trying to keep her thoughts from straying to Robert and at
least the puzzle gave her something else to concentrate her mind on. The boys had returned to sea and the house, with just her and Nell in it, was lonely. Nell was no company now for she spent her
days lost in a little world of her own. Jeannie wondered if she even realized that she had now lost every member of her family except her grandsons.