by June Gadsby
Well, whoever Billy’s real father was, it wasn’t Patrick Flynn, and he thanked God for that. It was as if a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. If it hadn’t been for Laura and her impending marriage, he would be a happy man this day.
Billy called to Patches. The dog was waiting for him eagerly, pink tongue lolling, eyes bright and hopeful. Together they sauntered through the back lanes of Jarrow, heading in the direction of the river Don where they would pick up Mr Robinson, who had promised to let Billy try his hand with his best fishing rod. There was a big pike out there somewhere that had been taunting Albert Robinson for years. A giant, by all accounts, and the old man was determined to catch the slippery devil before he was too old and feeble to reel him in.
As the sun rose up over The Tyne Valley, bathing the land in a rosy glow and gilding the swollen waters of the Don that slid by, Billy stuck his hands in his pockets and whistled a merry tune. He felt as new as the day itself and he was determined to enjoy his Sunday out with Albert Robinson in their hunt for the big pike.
‘Ah, there you are, Billy!’
Albert Robinson was waiting at the arranged spot where the undulating river banks met a densely wooded area that was a tangle of blackthorn, hawthorn and oak, and the occasional Scots pine reaching majestically to the sky. Somewhere in the middle of it was the pond the locals called The Witch’s Cauldron, because of its dark, mysterious depths. It was even more dangerous than the Slakes, but it held no fear for Billy.
‘Hello, Mr Robinson,’ Billy greeted his friend, his ready grin quickly put in place. ‘I’m not late, am I?’
‘No, son, but let’s get a move on, eh? It’s just the kind of morning that brings old Neptune out of his hiding place. This could well be my lucky day.’
Neptune was the name Albert Robinson had given to the big fish that had been his rival for years. He was quite convinced it was the same fish that got bigger and bigger every time he saw him. Albert enjoyed entertaining his pals down at The Venerable Bede public house about how he ‘almost snagged him’ and he must have been ‘this big’ – the arms stretching as wide as they could get. It was a standing joke, this mythical creature, for no one really believed that the pike existed. And if it did, no one would dare try to catch it. It was Mr Robinson’s fish and woe betide anybody who thought differently.
‘Right now,’ Mr Robinson said after they had been walking for about half an hour. ‘This is the place, Billy, but we have to be very quiet. Just pick yourself a spot and relax. That old devil’s in for a bit of sport today. I’ll show those unbelievers down at the pub. They’ll have to eat their words good and proper when I present them with Neptune. That fish has been escaping my hook for too long. It’s time the battle was won.’
‘Do you think I’ll catch anything today, Mr Robinson?’ Billy asked, his cheeks already flushing with excitement. ‘You did promise that I could use your best rod.’
‘Aye, I did that.’ Mr Robinson looked momentarily troubled, but then he smiled broadly and handed over the rod. ‘And I’m a man of my word. Here you go, Billy. A box full of fresh gudgeon. Fished them out myself before the light was up. That should make the old bugger’s mouth water.’
Billy couldn’t help thinking that all those gudgeon, small though they were, would have made a tasty meal for him and his mother, with enough left over for the next day. The thought of Maggie brought back the memory of how things had been between them earlier. For a moment, he felt heavy and sad, but then he pushed it to the back of his mind and concentrated on the business at hand. He picked up one of the gudgeon, asked God for one of his miracles, praying that Mr Robinson would bag his prize fish and they would both go home happy.
‘Like this, Mr Robinson?’
Albert Robinson looked on proudly as Billy set up his rod and his bait. Then he supervised the casting of the line so that it fell just right.
‘There you are, Billy. Just the ticket. We’ll make a fisherman of you yet.’
There was no mistaking the pride and the enthusiasm in the boy’s eyes as he sat, his gaze fixed on the rod and the line and the bobbing sinker with the rippling water going out from it in circles. Both his mother and his hunger were secondary to the pleasure and the anticipation this day was bringing him. Until today, he had never managed to catch anything bigger than the small fish he was now using for bait. Usually, Mr Robinson made him throw the fish he caught back into the river, saying they were too young to be taken. However, Billy never went home empty handed. There was always a decent sized fish or two donated to him from Mr Robinson’s catch. Something told Billy, though, that he would not be given as much as a scale from Neptune’s huge body, even if the creature was unlucky enough to get caught. There would be grand celebrations at The Venerable Bede then the fish would be stuffed and mounted above the bar as a lesson to all unbelievers.
Mr Robinson, as usual, had brought a chunk of crusty bread and a wedge of Cheshire cheese with two blood red tomatoes, a hard-boiled egg each and some fruit. By the time the sun was well up in the sky, Billy’s hunger had returned, but Mr Robinson was concentrating too heavily on the waters of the pond to worry about eating. Billy continued offering up prayers that old Neptune would come and take the bait, but Neptune was playing hard to get, as usual, like the king that he was.
A church clock began to strike the midday hour, its tinny gonging sound reaching out from across the river. Mr Robinson checked his pocket watch and heaved a deep sigh. Just as he put his rod down, wedging it secure with a large stone, there was the sound of voices. A man and a woman were arguing as they came closer and closer to the little fishing party.
‘Oh, now, that’s all we need,’ grumbled Mr Robinson, squinting in the direction of two approaching figures.
Keeping his eye on his line, Billy suddenly caught sight of a movement in the water a few feet in front of where he was still sitting. A dark shadow, then a form, solid and silvery turning to green and gold in the sunlight, the long sleek back rising above the surface, and then turning with a flash of a ridged dorsal fin and tail.
‘Mr Robinson!’ he hissed out a breathy warning. ‘Is that Neptune? Look!’
Mr Robinson looked just in time to see the fish emerge again, then plunge with a challenging flick of the tail, sending up spray and bubbles like a line of diamonds following him down to the bottom of the pond.
‘Dear God, it’s him all right, laddie!’ The old man was almost overcome with excitement, but he needed to forestall the couple coming their way or all would be lost. Neptune would take fright and disappear. ‘Keep your eye on him, Billy. Don’t let him get away. Guard him for me, eh?’
‘Aye, Mr Robinson,’ Billy said, not quite sure how he was going to persuade the great pike to hang around until the old man was ready for the kill. He didn’t think, for one minute, that a pike could be sweet-talked into staying put.
Mr Robinson started to climb the bank towards the quarrelling pair, waving his arms about like a shipwrecked sailor hailing a passing vessel. The two people took no notice of him and continued their dispute, which was extremely heated. The woman sounded as if she was close to tears.
At last, the quarrelling stopped. Billy gave a quick glance over his shoulder and saw that the man had gone, leaving the woman in tears, hurrying towards Mr Robinson, who was speaking to her in soothing tones, his important mission momentarily forgotten.
‘There, there, sweetheart,’ he was saying, holding out his arms for her to run into, which she did. ‘It can’t be as bad as all that, surely?’
That was when Billy realized that the woman was none other than Laura Caldwell, Mr Robinson’s granddaughter. He froze, not knowing quite what to do. It was bad seeing Laura so devastated, but then she hadn’t even looked his way for months, always too busy making cow’s eyes at that arrogant fiancé of hers.
‘It’s over, granddad,’ he heard Laura say as she sobbed into Albert Robinson’s old tweed fishing jacket. ‘I’ve told him I can’t marry him and that’s that.’
&n
bsp; ‘Come on, love,’ Mr Robinson said gently, putting his arms about his granddaughter and hugging her briefly to him. ‘It’s not worth getting yourself all worked up about. It was the right decision you made;’
As they spoke, the old man drew Laura towards the river where Billy was standing, holding his rod in a grip so fierce that his knuckles shone white. He couldn’t believe his ears. Laura was no longer tied to that idiot of a man. She was free. She could marry somebody else now. She could even... He dared not even think it. Him and Laura Caldwell? What a laugh! There wasn’t a cat’s chance in hell that a lady like her would see anything in a sixteen year old boy, even if he had loved her for as long as he could remember.
‘Do you really think so, Granddad?’ Laura was saying, her voice full of tears. ‘That it was the right thing to do, sending him off like that. I thought...I thought that you approved of him.’
‘Aye, lass, I did. Maybe not quite as much as your parents, but then it wasn’t for me to say anything. A girl has to make up her own mind. Aye, and make her own mistakes too. I knew my little Laura would see sense in the end. It never looked to me that you really loved the lad.’
Laura raised her eyebrows at the last remark and turned her head, the action of which led her eyes to rest on Billy. A slight frown creased her forehead, but she effectively ignored him and continued talking to her grandfather.
‘I did love him,’ she said, her breath catching in her throat as she spoke. ‘At least, I thought I did. But maybe it was the wrong kind of love...you know...?
Mr Robinson gave a short chuckle. ‘Aye, lass, I do know, and many a marriage has founded because of that. There’s love and love...and then some. Most of us live as best we can with the bed we make. The lucky ones are the ones, like yourself, who recognize that the bed in question is all wrong.’
‘Mr Robinson!’
Billy wanted to hear more of their conversation, but an urgent situation had arisen and he had to attract the old man’s attention. Something was tugging sharply at his line, taking it out into the middle of the pond where the water was deepest. It was Neptune. It had to be. The big fish had finally taken the bait, but it had taken Billy’s gudgeon and not Mr Robinson’s.
‘What is it lad? Oh, my giddy aunt, you haven’t gone and hooked Neptune, have you?’
Mr Robinson surged forward, old legs going like stiff pistons, and arrived at the water’s edge, red-faced and puffing. He stood there, panting and gawping at the rippling rings going out from the spot where Billy’s line entered the water. Laura hung back at first; then joined them, her face still streaked with tears, her eyes red-rimmed. Billy stared at her and felt an unaccustomed blush creep up from his neck when she forced a smile in greeting.
‘Hello Laura,’ he said and his voice was a mere croaky whisper.
‘Billy, what are you doing?’ Laura pointed to where the pike had risen to the surface and was thrashing about in an attempt to dislodge the hook from its mouth. ‘Look out. You’ll lose him if you’re not careful.’
That’s exactly what Billy wanted to do. He couldn’t possibly catch Mr Robinson’s prize fish. The old man would never forgive him. But the temptation of hauling in such an impressive creature before the eyes of Laura Caldwell was suddenly stronger than that to let the thing go. Not that he knew how to free the fish without first pulling him onto the land.
‘Steady, lad, steady!’ Mr Robinson shouted and reached out as if to take the rod and reel in old Neptune himself. ‘You’ve got him, but play him wisely. Reel him in slowly... no not like that ... give him some slack now...’
Mr Robinson’s hand was on Billy’s shoulder as the lad concentrated for all he was worth on the task before him. He allowed himself a quick glance over his shoulder to see if Laura was still there and watching. Satisfied that she was, and looking halfway to being interested, he gave the finale all it needed to impress the woman of his dreams.
‘Gently, Billy, gently...’ Mr Robinson’s hand was once again hovering as he fought not to take over the rod.
Every muscle in Billy’s sinewy body was straining to breaking point as he pitted his strength and his wits against the king of the Witch’s Cauldron. He dug in his heels and sank into the mud up to his ankles, but he didn’t care. The tug on the line was so great that he felt himself being dragged towards the edge of the pond, his feet leaving deep groves.
‘I can’t hold him, Mr Robinson!’ he yelled, but didn’t take his eyes off the silvery back of the pike for a second.
‘Yes you can, Billy. Go on, lad, put your back into it.’
‘Come on, Billy!’ Laura’s voice broke through the sizzling whine in his ears and he knew this had to be the proudest moment of his life. ‘Come on; you can do it! Oh, yes, yes!’
Just when Billy thought that his muscles would pop like pricked balloons, the pike gave up the battle. As the line went slack, Billy fell on his back, but never let go of his rod and started reeling in the fish with a passion he hadn’t known he possessed. There was no going back now. He had to catch that blessed monster fish. And he had to do it, for Laura.
Minutes later, Neptune was lying on the grassy bank, being admired by Mr Robinson, Laura, and a group of local fishermen who had heard the commotion and come running. Billy was dripping with sweat and muddy water, so breathless he could hardly speak.
‘Is that Neptune, Mr Robinson?’ one of the fishermen asked. ‘Have you caught him at last?’
‘Aye, that’s Neptune,’ Albert Robinson nodded and his face seemed softened by sadness as he bent down and gently removed the hook from the pike’s mouth. ‘That’s my old arch enemy, lads.’
‘Congratulations,’ another fisherman said with a touch of astonishment in his voice. ‘Most of us lads down at the pub didn’t believe ye. Well, now ye can boast and crow like a ruddy rooster, eh?’
‘Well, it’s not me who caught him, so I’ll not be doing the crowing,’ Mr Robinson said, picking up his gaff. ‘Tis Billy here that reeled him in.’
It went strangely silent, for there wasn’t a man in Jarrow who didn’t know Albert Robinson’s famous dream about catching the biggest pike ever.
All eyes were cast down to where the fish lay panting, its mouth opening and shutting, it’s body still writhing with the last vestiges of strength that remained. Billy imagined that a round, glassy eye looked at him accusingly, then watched plaintively as the old man, who had not, after all, been the victor, offered him the gaff.
‘Go on, lad. The honour’s yours fair and square, but don’t let the bugger suffer.’
Billy shook his head. ‘No, Mr Robinson. I caught him with your rod. He’s still your fish. You finish him off.’
There was a moment’s hesitation then Albert Robinson raised the gaff over his head, hovering for a brief second as if paying his final homage to the king of the river, and brought it down with all his might, killing Neptune in one clean blow.
* * *
There was a riot of cheering and backslapping as the men in The Venerable Bede took in the news that Albert Robinson’s “mythical” fish had finally been caught. Mr Robinson and Billy were hoisted shoulder high and carried to the public house and it had taken two men to carry the pike with ease. It was still early, but the landlord tipped the local bobby and everyone entered by the back door, too excited to worry about the fact they were breaking the law. Besides, PC Humble wasn’t averse to being slipped the odd ten shilling note just to look the other way. Indeed, on this occasion, he joined them and was already knocking back a half pint of Newcastle Brown.
Laura accompanied them to the door of the pub, but being a female and not officially allowed inside, she kissed her grandfather and beamed a tremulous smile in Billy’s direction.
‘Well done, Billy,’ she told him. ‘Your mother will be proud of you.’
‘I dunno about that,’ he said, twisting his face and wrinkling his nose, which he often did when embarrassed. ‘I didn’t do it for her.’
‘Oh, who did you do it for then?’
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Billy shrugged and no more was said. Laura gave him a curious smile and headed back for home, still looking dejected and still with an unshed tear in her eye. It would be a while, Billy thought, before she stopped thinking of the fellow she almost married. By which time, Billy might be in a better position to speak to her about how he felt.
His name was being called, so he stopped watching Laura’s elegant back disappearing away down the street and went to join the others.
‘Hey, Albert, he certainly is a big fella,’ Cedric Small, the landlord, was saying, eyeing the fish on the bar counter as he pulled pints and offered them all round. ‘What are ye goin’ to do with ‘im, eh? Fish and chips for the family for the next fortnight, eh?’
‘It’s not up to me, that,’ Albert said, rubbing a rough hand around his bristly chin. ‘It’s up to Billy here. He’s the one who caught old Neptune.’
Billy noticed just a bit of an edge in Mr Robinson’s voice, though the man was smiling genially enough at him.
‘That’s only cos I used your best rod, Mr Robinson,’ Billy said in a loud voice so that everybody could hear above the cacophony that was going on. ‘You would have caught him if...if it hadn’t been that you were called away...you know...talking to Laura, like...?’
‘Still, Billy, lad, you were the one who got him, good and proper. And you hauled him in without any help from me. You deserve all the praise you can get for doing a thing like that.’ Albert turned to the men gathered around him; ‘He’s not only a good lad, this one, he’s mightily strong with it, mind and body. Come on Billy, let’s buy you a drink to celebrate, eh?’
‘Thanks, Mr Robinson, but I don’t touch alcohol;’ Billy shook his head positively. ‘Not me. I’ve seen what it does to people.’