by Comfort Me
The coalman touched his cap to Jimmy. ‘Very sorry about your missis. My old Trojan is the quietest hoss you could find but he was frightened, see. I’m sorry.’
‘No, I’m sorry. If there was any negligence, as he calls it, it was mine. I’m sorry you and your horse have had this fright and trouble.’
‘I think the witnesses are going,’ the nurse said meaningfully as she looked out of the window and the policeman hastily departed.
Peggy made tea and took a cup to her father while the nurse told Jimmy the doctor would soon return and would advise him on what needed to be done. She left soon after and Jimmy was left with the two people who could help him most.
Chapter Twelve
Anna wrote to Dorrie about the tragedy and her sister replied that, although it was a shocking way to die, she thought it was a merciful release for Olive. ‘You couldn’t really say she had a life, nor did Jimmy,’ she wrote. ‘I think he will come to see that it was all for the best.’
Anna smiled when she read the letter but Isabel agreed with Dorrie. ‘I know poor Jimmy’s upset now,’ she said, ‘and blaming himself, but really, Anna, it’s a blessing in disguise. Olive could have lived for years, if you could call it living.’
Anna reflected that her sensible friend and Dorrie both held the same opinion. Dorrie was changing, becoming wiser and losing some of her girlish, romantic ideas. I wish I could lose mine where Eugene is concerned, Anna thought ruefully.
The weather had been very bad since Christmas and there were reports of fierce gales at sea. Both Captain Furlong and Captain Jenson were homeward bound and their families worried about them so Anna and Isabel went to the shipping offices to make enquiries but they learned nothing.
‘No news is good news,’ a fatherly clerk told them. ‘Both ships are well found and with experienced captains. They’ve ridden out storms like this before,’ he said and they felt reassured.
The following Sunday Anna joined Isabel and Willie and three of the little boys to walk to church. Now that James Hargreaves lived in Eastbourne Street he often met the girls at the corner of Westbourne Street as they walked to ten o’clock Mass and on this morning they all arrived at the same time.
James hung back diffidently but Willie hailed him. ‘Hello, Mr Hargreaves,’ he said. ‘I won’t meet you here much longer. I’ll be off to sea in a few weeks. Have you ever been to sea?’
James looked startled. ‘Er, no,’ he said and Willie said cheerfully, ‘Most fellows in Liverpool have been to sea at sometime or other.’
‘Mr Hargreaves doesn’t belong to a seafaring family,’ Isabel said as they walked along together.
James left them at the church entrance and Isabel whispered to Anna, ‘Isn’t he thin! Is he ill, do you think?’
Anna shrugged as they entered the church, wondering whether he was merely unhappy. He can’t have many happy memories, she thought.
Anna had made a shirt for Willie’s outfitting for sea and he thanked her as they parted at the Jensons’ house after church. ‘It’s splendid, really well made,’ he said. ‘Thank you, Anna. If I had to depend on Isabel’s sewing I’d have to be dressed from the slop chest. She can’t sew for toffee.’
‘She has other gifts you’ve been glad of,’ Anna said. ‘A light hand with pastry for one.’
‘And a heavy hand with a smack,’ he said, as Isabel cuffed him, and they all parted laughing.
Later in the day, Clara, who had been visiting, came into the house saying that she had seen two men at the Jensons’ door. ‘They looked like Holt Line men to me,’ she said. ‘I hope there’s nothing wrong.’
‘They could be Mrs Jenson’s brothers,’ Mrs Furlong said, unwilling to allow Clara to be first with any news, but Anna was worried. What of those storms? she thought. Restless and uneasy she slipped away and went to the Jenson house.
The front door was open and before she could knock one of the boys ran down the hall and flung himself at her. ‘Anna, Anna, Papa’s ship is lost!’ he cried, burrowing into her shoulder. Carrying him, she went timidly into the parlour, where Isabel and her mother were locked in each other’s arms on the sofa and Willie stood stiff and white-faced behind them.
The two men from the shipping line stood up in evident relief. ‘It’s true?’ Anna croaked, unable to control her voice.
‘Nothing certain, miss,’ one of the men said. ‘But wreckage has been picked up from Captain Jenson’s ship. A ship’s lifebelt, some planking and other things. There may be survivors but none have been sighted yet.’
The men began to move towards the door and one of them bent over the sofa. ‘Goodbye, madam,’ he said. ‘As soon as we have more news you shall have it. Don’t give up hope.’
Anna had gently set the little boy down and she followed them to the hall. ‘Is there really any hope?’ she whispered and they glanced at each other and shook their heads.
‘Survivors may be picked up but the ship has gone. We think we’ve lost two,’ one man said and Anna thanked them.
‘This must be a hard task for you,’ she said.
‘Yes, but it must be done, and the sooner the better,’ one said. ‘That’s our experience.’
Anna went back and knelt before Isabel and her mother, putting her arms around them. ‘I’m so sorry, so very sorry,’ she whispered, tears pouring down her face, and they both drew her close. Willie still stood like a ramrod behind them and Mrs Jenson looked up at him and stretched out her hand to her son.
‘Willie, my poor little lad,’ she said and he came round the sofa and fell on his knees before her.
‘I’ll look after you, Mama,’ he cried and Anna left the three older Jensons clinging together and weeping and went to the young boys.
They were huddled together, white-faced, and Wilma, as usual, was wailing in her cot. Anna picked her up and led the boys into the kitchen. She put the biscuit barrel on the table and said, ‘I think we all need something to eat and a nice drink of cocoa. Pass the biscuits round, Jonathan, while I make the cocoa.’
She gave Wilma a rusk and soon the boys were sitting round the table with biscuits and cocoa, still quiet and subdued, but looking more like themselves. Anna made tea and took it into the parlour, judging that when the first storm of grief was over they would welcome a restoring drink.
‘The children? Where are they?’ Mrs Jenson said, looking about her wildly.
‘They’re in the kitchen. I’ve made them cocoa and given them the biscuit barrel,’ Anna said. ‘Wilma’s got a rusk so she’s quiet too.’
‘Thanks, love. What a good friend you are,’ said Mrs Jenson. She began to sip the tea but tears were running down her face and her hand shook so much that Isabel took the cup and gently held it to her mother’s lips.
‘We’re not giving up hope, Mama,’ she said. ‘Those men had to tell us about the wreckage in case anyone else did but there are bound to be survivors.’
Mrs Jenson wiped her eyes. ‘Yes, Papa always tested the ship’s boats and he had a good crew. All the boats would be lowered.’
There was a knock at the door and Anna was not surprised to see Dr and Mrs O’Brien. They went into the parlour and Anna went back to the children. They were still sitting quietly, although the cocoa cups and biscuit barrel were empty. Wilma, in her high chair, was grizzling but ignored.
Anna gave her a drink of milk, then took a book down from a shelf. ‘Should I read about the buried treasure?’ she asked and they nodded eagerly.
She had finished the story when Dr O’Brien came into the kitchen. ‘Does your mother know about this?’ he asked, after giving the boys a large bag of sweets to keep them busy.
‘I don’t think so,’ Anna said. ‘Although Aunt Clara saw the shipping men at the Jensons’ door. That’s why I came.’
He drew Anna into the hall. ‘Go home now and tell her but don’t let her come here, Anna. Not on any account. Did you see the men?’
‘Yes, they told me the ship had definitely gone but there might be survivors. I d
on’t think they had much hope.’
‘God help them all,’ Dr O’Brien said fervently. ‘Go now, Anna.’
She looked into the parlour to say she would be back later, then walked home rapidly
As soon as her mother was told she began to scream hysterically, ‘I’ll be the next. They’ll come to tell me about Father, I know it. I know it. I’ve thought of nothing else since those storms.’ She began to rock backward and forward, moaning, ‘How shall I live without him? What shall I do?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Adelaide,’ Clara said. ‘You’ve heard nothing. No news is good news, the clerk told Anna.’
‘But I will, I will, I know it. I feel it here!’ she cried dramatically, placing her hand where she thought her heart was.
Anna looked at her with contempt. ‘Dr and Mrs O’Brien are with the family now,’ she said.
‘I must go to her!’ cried Mrs Furlong. ‘Only I can understand. Even though my own heart is breaking.’
‘Dr O’Brien said Mrs Jenson must have no visitors,’ Anna said.
‘He doesn’t mean me,’ said her mother but Anna said firmly, ‘He mentioned you specifically. He said you would want to condole but Mrs Jenson can see no one. She is completely prostrated. I thought we might have the little boys here.’
‘Here!’ her mother exclaimed. ‘Why here, pray?’
‘Because we are their friends,’ said Anna. ‘I could look after them.’
‘It seems to have escaped your notice that you are supposed to look after me,’ her mother said tartly. ‘You know my nerves wouldn’t stand those rough boys here, especially now. Don’t you dare suggest it.’
She had been temporarily diverted from visiting the Jenson house but she began to gather her wraps again and rose to her feet.
‘I think Dr O’Brien might suggest it if you go there,’ Anna said hastily and her mother sank back onto the sofa.
‘Better not,’ she murmured. ‘At least until I know for sure.’
Anna turned and walked out of the room, feeling unable to stand her mother any longer. She’s almost hoping for bad news about Father, she thought, so that she can be the centre of attention. Anna thought of the genuine grief at the Jensons’ and of the loving husband and father, the jolly, happy man lost to them, and her tears flowed.
Isabel and her mother might cling for a while to the hope that he was a survivor but Anna felt sure that he was dead. She remembered the message brought by the Olafsons and wondered if on that sunny blue-and-white day Captain Jenson had felt a premonition of death. Why had he called, ‘Tell my boys to look after Mama and Isabel and little Wilma’?
He had always taken care of his family, making short voyages and attending to all the family affairs, seeing the boys as part of his responsibility, not as substitutes for him.
No survivors were found although driftwood gave evidence that the ship’s boats had been launched but destroyed in the mountainous seas. Mrs Jenson’s brothers, who were businessmen in and around Manchester, were notified and rallied round their sister.
With such a large family there had been little opportunity to save. Willie wanted to start work immediately either ashore or afloat, so that he could provide some money for his mother, but his uncles told him his father’s wishes should be carried out and he was duly indentured to become a ship’s officer.
Two of her sisters-in-law offered to adopt some of the boys but Mrs Jenson, who had been very calm until now, became hysterical at the idea of the family being split up and the idea was hastily dropped.
One of her brothers, who owned a jam factory, lived in a large house near a village on the outskirts of Manchester. There was a coachman’s cottage in the grounds and he offered to have this made into a comfortable home for the family. The three younger boys could attend the village school and Jonathan and David could travel daily to a school in Manchester as there was a good train service.
Everything was quickly arranged, too quickly for Anna, and it was a sad day for her when the family left for Manchester.
Mrs Jenson wept as she said goodbye to her. ‘We’ll all miss you so,’ she said. ‘You’ve been a good friend, not just to Isabel, but to all of us. I’ll never forget how you helped on that dreadful day. My poor little boys are broken-hearted at losing you. As soon as we’re settled you must come and stay with us. Promise, Anna.’
The two girls were too upset to speak as they clung together but finally Isabel said, ‘I don’t know how I shall bear not having you near. We’ve been friends for so long.’
Holding back her tears, Anna said, ‘I can’t talk to anyone as I do to you. Oh God, I’ll miss you so much.’
‘Anna will come and stay very soon,’ Mrs Jenson said. ‘And you can write often to each other.’
The girls felt they might be adding to her distress and tried to put a brave face on things, as she was doing.
‘That’s true, Mama,’ Isabel said. ‘We’ll have a lot to write about, won’t we, Anna?’ and Anna managed to smile and agree.
When they had gone she felt the full force of the blow that had fallen on her. How was she going to manage without Isabel? Since Dorrie had gone they had become so close that Anna felt she could talk to Isabel almost as freely as she did to her sister, except about her mother.
When she found her home unbearable there was always a warm welcome for her at the Jensons’ and she never needed to explain but would return home fortified against her mother’s spite.
Captain Furlong returned safely from his voyage shortly after the Jensons left. There were no hysterics from his wife, although she talked dramatically about the Jenson tragedy and said how much it had upset her because she feared her husband had met the same fate.
‘You’d have been informed,’ Captain Furlong said briefly, then he added, ‘I hope if that does happen you will show the same dignity and care for your family Mrs Jenson showed. O’Brien tells me she was admirable.’ He turned to Anna. ‘He also said you showed great common sense and kindness and helped the family when they needed it most, Annabel. I was pleased to hear that.’
‘Thank you, Father,’ Anna said meekly, aware of her mother fuming beside her.
‘I thought you might have brought the young children here while so much had to be done,’ he said.
Before anyone else could speak, Mrs Furlong said quickly, ‘Mrs Deagan was first in the field as usual. She had the boys whipped away before anyone else could act.’ She glared at Anna, daring her to contradict her, but Anna had no intention of speaking and Captain Furlong shook out his newspaper dismissively.
On that tragic day Anna had returned to the Jensons’ to find that Wilma and the boys were with the Deagans. They would come home to sleep and be collected early the following morning. She had seen them in the Deagans’ kitchen the next day, sitting round the kitchen table with lumps of pastry.
‘They’re all going to be ships’ cooks,’ Maggie said, her face rosy and smiling. She had tied Wilma into a chair with a scarf and she was happily banging a tin with a spoon.
‘Maggie’s in her element,’ Mrs Deagan told Anna later and Anna said she had never seen her so happy.
‘Not that she’s ever miserable,’ she added hastily, ‘but she has a sort of sad look sometimes.’
It was then that Mrs Deagan told Anna Maggie’s story. ‘Her and Andrew Hanlon were together from when they were in the infants,’ she said. ‘Never anyone else. They were going to get married but Andrew had to go for a soldier. He was due home and the wedding was arranged but there was what they called a skirmish. It was a desert, like, and he got lost in a sandstorm. When they found him he’d walked round and round in a circle, driven mad with thirst.’
‘And was he alive?’ Anna gasped.
‘No girl, he was dead when they found him. God only knows what he suffered. That’s why Maggie can’t bear a dripping tap or water being wasted.’
‘And she married Walter?’ Anna said.
‘Aye, he’d hung after her for years and I think she di
dn’t care what she did. Thought she might as well make him happy, anyhow.’ Mrs Deagan looked at Anna. ‘She kept her side of it and Walter’s never had to regret it. He said to me once, “I knew where her heart was, Ma, but if she liked me enough to marry me that was enough for me. Half a loaf is better than no bread.” He’s a good lad, Anna.’
Anna went home marvelling at the story and most of all at Walter. I’ll never look at him again as a dull, pompous man, she thought. How interesting people were and how different sometimes to their outward appearance. Some people, anyway, although her mother was as peevish and spiteful as she looked.
Mrs Furlong suspected that her husband had been discussing her with Dr O’Brien and her dislike of the doctor increased. Captain Furlong ensured that she took a walk with him every day and on Sunday he assumed that all the family would walk to church together.
As they reached Eastbourne Street Anna saw James Hargreaves but he carefully kept to the opposite pavement. That mother did a good job of destroying his confidence, Anna thought, determined that her own mother would not succeed with her.
After Mass they were joined by some of the Deagan family and Jim and Kate spoke to Captain Furlong.
‘Kate and I are attending an orchestral concert on Wednesday night, sir, and we’d like to ask Anna to come with us, if you will allow it,’ Jim said.
‘We feel it would cheer her up,’ Kate said. ‘She must be feeling the loss of her friend Isabel so soon after losing Dorrie’s company.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ her father said. ‘That’s a kind thought. I’m sure she’ll enjoy it.’
‘She’s always liked good music,’ Jim said. ‘I remember when she was a child she liked the classical rolls we played on the pianola better than the music-hall songs.’
Captain Furlong looked thoughtful. Kate had gone to speak to Anna but he said to Jim, ‘I begin to see the drawbacks of a seafaring life. I missed much of their childhood. I hadn’t realised Annabel appreciated music.’