by Anne Doughty
He sat down abruptly and pulled off his boots which were spattered with ash and splashed with water.
‘We all thought it was well doused and it was lookin’ like rain forby. Then, the next thing we know the nightwatchman was knocking us up to tell us it had got goin’ again.’
‘What started it, Da?’ asked Sam, as he lowered himself carefully into the other armchair.
‘Oh, the usual,’ John replied, the weariness obvious now in his voice. ‘Always the same with an engine house. High temperature, dry air, fumes from the lubricating oils. A stray spark from somewhere. Possibly even spontaneous combustion. The afternoons have been hot even if the nights are gettin’ cold, and the big double doors have to be kept closed at all times to stop the childer gettin’ in,’ he said, looking up at them, as he stretched his feet backwards and forwards to ease them.
‘That’s in the rules now, about the doors, and right and proper too, for the sake of the wee lads and lasses that know no better than to sneak in for a look and then get hurt. But closed doors means bad ventilation,’ he summed up, as he got to his feet and hunted for a pair of shoes.
When Rose found how few hours of sleep John had had the previous night she persuaded him to go and lie on the bed while she set about getting some lunch. With everyone already hungry from either a very early start or no breakfast, or both, she looked more carefully at the larder. Apart from half a baker’s loaf that smelt mouldy, even if it didn’t show any very obvious signs, the only other item in there was some bacon with a very strong smell and two eggs. She’d used the last of the milk when they’d made a fresh pot of tea for John.
She smiled to herself as she went out to the stable in search of potatoes, thinking of lunches at Ashley Park. Homely enough meals, a shepherd’s pie or cold meats, but always beautifully served with vegetables straight in from the garden and bowls of fresh fruit for dessert.
To her great relief there were potatoes in the sack, though some of them had sprouted in the heat. She gathered up what she needed, collected a handful of scallions from the patch by the back door and went back into the dairy where Sarah was scrubbing the stained Belfast sink.
‘What next, Ma?’ she asked, rinsing away the scouring powder.
‘MacMurray’s. You’d better both go. Three pints of milk, a dozen eggs, two pounds of butter, or whatever they can spare. Take my purse in case we owe them for what Young Bill’s been delivering.’
By noon, Sam had peeled all the potatoes, Rose had fine chopped the scallions and Sarah and Hannah had arrived back with everything she’d asked for together with the local news as well. When John tramped back downstairs in his socks, he sniffed appreciatively.
‘Man, that smell’s good. We made champ a couple o’ times, diden we, Sam? But it diden smell as good as that.’
‘Come on then, come to the table. I’ve made plenty for there’s no bread and no cheese. Does anyone want a glass of milk?’
She served a pale green mound, topped with a generous knob of butter, onto each plate. Silence reigned for some minutes until Hannah and Sarah paused to deliver the news from MacMurray’s.
‘Michael says the price of butter has dropped again,’ said Sarah, between mouthfuls. ‘There’s so much coming in from New Zealand the packing station says they can’t compete in price.’
‘And he’s worried about his potatoes,’ added Hannah sympathetically. ‘He says he’s sprayed a second time, but he’s heard rumours from the west coast they’ve had blight, but no one is letting on and if he loses his potatoes on top of the drop in his butter money …’
Hannah paused as a figure appeared in the doorway, knocking on it politely as if it were not wide open.
‘Billy, how are ye?’ called John. ‘Come on in.’
‘No, I’ll no disturb ye at yer meal,’ said Billy, coming in and handing Sam an envelope. ‘Are ye doin’ rightly, Sam?’ he asked, as Sam put down his fork, took the large envelope and looked at it curiously.
‘The best at all, Billy,’ replied Sam promptly. ‘Is this my pay?’
‘Aye, I woud think so. I’ll come up one evenin’ in the week,’ he said, nodding at Rose and John and shyly avoiding Hannah and Sarah. ‘Be seein’ ye,’ he called cheerfully over his shoulder as he darted off.
‘That was good of him to come up with yer pay, Sam,’ said John warmly. ‘An’ he came last week as well.’
‘He’s a good sort, wee Billy, though he hasn’t much hands for anything,’ said Sam, as he studied the envelope curiously. ‘He was lucky to get the job sweepin’ up when the flagmen all went. His Da wasn’t so lucky, I hear he’s lookin’ for work yet.’
‘That’s near a year now,’ said John, as he held out his plate for a second helping. ‘Does his Ma work?’
‘Aye, she’s in the bleach works with one of his sisters, but the wee sister’s only a half timer,’ he said, as he tore open the envelope.
A small shower of coins fell on the table, some of them running on their edges till they encountered the milk jug. They collapsed with a small clatter as Sam drew out of the envelope some grubby banknotes and a battered brown card. He stared at the card open-mouthed and then looked from John to Rose and back again.
‘What’s that, Sam?’ Sarah burst out, staring at him across the table.
Sam looked inside the envelope again, but there was nothing there.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ he asked flatly as he handed the brown card to his father.
John took it from his hand, glanced at it and pressed his lips together.
‘Aye, it is,’ he said, nodding grimly. ‘I’d never have thought yer man Thompson capable of doin’ that, an’ you there from the minit ye left school,’ he said quietly, as he pushed away his plate. ‘I’m not sure he can do this to you, Sam, an’ I’ll make it my business to find out. Whatever happens we’ll get over it somehow. Now finish your dinner like a good man. It’s not the end of the world.’
Sam picked up his fork and made an attempt to finish his champ. Through no fault of his own, he had lost the job he’d dreamt of since he was a little boy. Sarah could see his eyes glittering with moisture as he bent over his plate. The look on his face she’d never forget.
However concerned she might be for Sam, Rose knew an immediate visit to Banbridge was essential. While John was saddling up Dolly and backing her between the shafts of the trap, she had a word with Sarah and Hannah in the dairy.
‘Now, don’t exhaust yourselves trying to do everything that needs doing,’ she warned, as she saw them don aprons. ‘The most important thing is the larder. It needs a good scrub before I get back. I don’t think they’ve had clean sheets for about a month and there’s a chamber pot somewhere. Don’t start scrubbing the kitchen floor. Just give it a sweep and we’ll do it a bit at a time, and don’t leave Sam on his own. Find him a job he can do sitting down. Poor love, I’ve never seen him so upset.’
‘Ma, is Jamie coming tomorrow?’ Hannah asked, as Rose collected her purse and shopping bags.
‘Well, I’d have thought so, given he couldn’t come this morning. Why, love?’
‘Oh, it’s just … I was thinking, if I’m off to Dublin next Saturday, I won’t see him for nearly a year if he doesn’t.’
‘Gracious, Hannah, you’re quite right. I think I’ve lost a weekend somewhere,’ she said, peering at the calendar over the sink. ‘Yes, next weekend is the first weekend in September. You leave London for Zurich the second weekend in September, but you’ve got to get to London first. What a good thing you reminded me.’
While Rose was reluctant to go shopping on her first afternoon at home, Dolly was quite delighted to be trotting along the main road on a fine, sunny afternoon. Already the lime trees were showing patches of pale yellow leaves, the chestnuts had hints of pink, and the mountain ashes were hung with clumps of red berries, bright as beads.
‘I didn’t tell Jamie about Hannah and Teddy,’ John said, turning to her as they bowled along. ‘I though she’d maybe like to tell h
im herself.’
‘So he doesn’t know she’s going away again?’ she said thoughtfully.
‘No, but he knows his brother’s in plaster an’ he hasn’t been to see him,’ he said, without taking his eyes off the road.
Rose sighed. Clearly, Jamie’s behaviour had not pleased his father while she’d been away, for almost everything John said about him was edged with sharpness. She could see he was still upset by Jamie’s failure to turn up at the quay this morning. It was, after all, only a few hundred yards from where he worked and a mere hour before his usual time.
‘Can we depend on him comin’ tomorrow, d’you think?’ John asked, when Rose explained about Hannah’s departure date.
‘No, I don’t think we can,’ she said slowly. ‘Maybe this was his Saturday morning off, the one he gets every two months or so. He might be away cycling with his friends over the weekend.’
‘Then he might very well have let me know,’ he retorted promptly. ‘I wrote last Sunday tellin’ him when ye’d be arrivin’ and suggestin’ where we’d meet, convenient for him. He had a whole week to drop me a line,’ he said, his tone aggrieved.
‘Would he get a telegram this late in the day if we sent it right away?’
‘Ach, I couldn’t rightly tell you. An’ sure if he’s not at his lodgings we’d still be none the wiser.’
They drove on, turning over the problem Jamie’s silence had created for them.
‘There’s nothing for it,’ said John, as he swung the heavy shopping baskets up into the trap. ‘I may away up to Belfast meself an’ see what’s going on. Far better a couple of hours now than sittin’ wonderin’ tomorrow, is he or isn’t he comin’,’ he went on, seeing her troubled look. ‘Are ye sure ye’ll be all right with Dolly. She’s a bit fresh still.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Rose assured him, as he handed her the reins. ‘Bring him back with you if you can. Sam could do with a bit of company.’
‘Aye, I’ll do that. Mind yerself now. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
She watched him stride away towards the station, turned Dolly in the busy street and wondered if it was really this morning she’d wakened up in a ship’s cabin, a stewardess offering her a cup of tea. It seemed now almost as far away as the beginning of the summer.
John was no more successful in meeting up with Jamie than Sam had been on the February evening when Rose had taken ill, but in broad daylight, on a pleasant, August day, he did succeed in gaining admission to the tall, red-brick house. The proprietoress, a dignified woman who prided herself on the superiority of her establishment, ushered him into the young gentlemen’s empty parlour, but did not invite him to be seated.
She confirmed that young Mr Hamilton had been out late on the previous evening and had not appeared at breakfast. He had been at lunch, however, and had then set off with some of the other young gentlemen for a tea party, to be followed by supper and dancing. Naturally, she had not enquired where this entertainment was to be held, but one of her staff had mentioned Helen’s Bay, a favourite location for the senior management at Harlands.
She provided John with a pencil and a sheet of paper upon which to leave a message, after which she wished him good afternoon.
‘What exactly did you say in your note, John?’ Rose asked, next morning, as she rubbed rosemary over a shoulder of lamb.
‘Ach, I can’t exactly mind,’ he admitted, leaning against the wall of the dairy, watching her. ‘I said you were sorry not to see him yesterday and we’d be expecting him for dinner. Something like that. With yer woman standin’ over me as if I were goin’ to pinch the silver, I had the dickens own job to think what to put. But I’d say he’ll come.’
Jamie was angry his father’s note mentioned his failure to turn up at the docks. As he read it over and over again, what made him angrier still was what he took to be an order to come home the following day, because his mother and sisters wanted to see him. He was so furious at this intrusion into his weekend plans, he considered ignoring the note altogether. But by the time he’d finished breakfast, he decided he’d have to go.
As every mile passed, he thought of the young managers he should have been meeting that afternoon at Waterside, the large, elegant home of his immediate superior. All he could think of was the wasted opportunity. He would be twenty-one in October, his apprenticeship complete. Now his whole attention was focused on the next critical step, Junior Manager. The warm sunshine of early autumn was lost on him as he strode out of the station, his resentment growing with every stride.
Rose was checking the table in the parlour when she heard footsteps on the garden path. She cast a final glance at the six places laid with the best china, the cutlery Sam had polished so devotedly and the small posy of flowers Hannah had made up from florets of delphinium. She paused, suddenly uneasy. Reverting to a habit out of the long past, she smoothed her skirt, as she’d done throughout all her years of service, whenever she went to answer a bell.
‘Jamie, how lovely to see you,’ she said, crossing the kitchen and embracing him warmly.
‘You’re looking well, Ma,’ he said, glancing round the room as she released him.
‘And so are you, Jamie. Very smart indeed,’ she said honestly.
Hannah was mending Sam’s working trousers, Sarah had just finished peeling and slicing the apples for the pudding. Sam had put down his newspaper. The first greetings over, all three observed their brother as he stood awkwardly by the kitchen table.
‘Where’s Da?’ he said casually, addressing his mother.
‘He’s just gone up to Rathdrum to see to Bess, he’ll be back shortly,’ she said, doing her best to make him feel easy. ‘Would you like some lemonade, Jamie, it must have been warm walking out from the station?’
‘No thanks, Ma, don’t bother. I’m used to it. I do a lot of walking.’
Rose collected up the prepared apples and felt acutely the unease his presence had produced all around her. Apart from the hellos, she’d half heard in the parlour, she hadn’t registered another exchange between the four young people.
Sarah stood up and wiped her hands on her apron.
‘Would you like to see the pictures we brought back from our visit?’
‘Oh yes. What a good idea’ he said, a hint of humouring in his tone.
Rose wiped and dried the kitchen table and Sarah collected her precious album from the parlour and pulled up two chairs, side-by-side at the table. He sat down and nodded as she turned the pages, explained who the people were and where each of the pictures had been taken. Sam watched them, listening attentively. Having spent much of the previous afternoon studying the photographs for himself, he knew exactly what Sarah was describing. Hannah appeared completely absorbed in her mending, the pretty ring on her engagement finger occasionally catching the light.
Jamie said very little. ‘That’s good of Ma,’ he volunteered at one point. ‘So that’s Lady Anne, is it?’ he added later. But mostly Sarah had to be content with nods and grunts.
She didn’t tell him she’d taken the pictures herself and he showed no curiosity whatever about them. Only when they came to the last pages and he spotted the picture of Hannah and Teddy under the rose covered arch did he throw out a sudden sharp question.
‘So, who’s the boyfriend, Hannah?’ he said, looking across at her.
‘He’s not a boyfriend, Jamie,’ she answered quietly. ‘He’s my fiancé. We’ll be getting married next year when I come back from Switzerland,’ she added coolly, catching his eye for a brief moment.
‘Switzerland?’ he said, even more sharply. ‘What on earth are you going there for?’
‘You could call it job training, if you like,’ she said steadily. ‘You’re learning to build ships, I’m going to learn how to run an establishment.’
‘You mean a finishing school, don’t you?’ he retorted, an ill-suppressed sneer in his tone.
‘If you like,’ she said easily.
‘Ach, hello Jamie,’ said John, as he strod
e into the kitchen and saw the two figures seated side by side at the table. ‘It’s great to see you,’ he added, as Jamie stood up and took his outstretched hand. ‘I hope we’re not puttin’ out yer plans for today,’ he went on agreeably, ‘but we’d a bit o’ news we thought we ought to celebrate.’
‘So I’ve just heard,’ said Jamie flatly, staring at Hannah, the tiny wink of diamonds catching his eye now he knew where to look.
Rose came in from the dairy with a pie dish in her hands. Hannah dropped her sewing to bend down and open the oven door for her. The smell of roasting lamb filled the kitchen.
‘Not long now, everyone. Are you all hungry?’ she asked, glad to see Sarah had managed to get Jamie to sit down.
She gave John a reassuring glance. Last night, in the privacy of their own bed, he’d admitted he never knew what to do to be right with young Jamie. He was doing his best now, but he wasn’t getting a great deal of help from Jamie.
As she went back to the dairy, she heard John ask about the production schedule on the Oceanic. Whipping cream for the apple pie, she learnt that a launch date had been proposed for January ’99 by which time Jamie hoped to be a Junior Manager. There was another silence and then she heard Jamie asking Sam when he hoped to be back at work. She caught the sharp note in Sarah’s voice as she asked Jamie about compensation for injury in the shipyards. At least twelve men a year died in accidents and dozens were injured, particularly by falling rivets, she said. But Jamie didn’t appear to know anything about such matters.
It was a relief to everyone when Rose called them to the table and she and Hannah set about serving the sizzling roast with a rich gravy and fresh vegetables from the garden.
‘Nothin’ like your mother’s good home cookin’, eh, Jamie?’ said John pleasantly, as he observed how quickly he cleared his plate.
‘No, not on an apprentice’s wage,’ he said, coolly.