The Beachcomber
Page 18
“Did Tom seem keen then?”
“He seemed to like talking to me on the bus. And he told me what a lovely time he’d had.”
“Ah, sure, is that all?” Rosie was skeptical. “To my mind he either loves ye or he doesn’t. A girl needs to know where she stands, so she does.”
“So, you’d ask him, would you?”
Rosie thought on that. “Well, mebbe not. Y’see, if ye ask him, ye might frighten him off, then your chance is gone for good. On the other hand, if ye don’t ask him, you may never know where ye stand. The two of youse could go on for years and in the end it could lead nowhere.”
“I’ll have to take that chance.” Kathy could not see herself asking Tom how he felt about her. It was too early. Too bold.
“There ye are then.” Rosie sighed. “Like I said … you’re a lost cause.” She drained her glass. “I’d best be off. I’ve to get meself ready for a date. Y’see, there’s this caravanner who wants to take me out for a night on the tiles, and who am I to waste an opportunity like that, eh?”
Kathy had a warning. “Be careful, Rosie. Some of these single blokes are only out for what they can get.”
“Ah sure, don’t I know that?” She giggled like a schoolgirl. “And I don’t give a damn.”
She went away down the street waving and chuckling, and Kathy waved back. “Have a nice time,” she murmured with a little smile, “and don’t get into mischief.” Rosie was made in the same mold as Maggie, she thought, and, rain or shine, she wouldn’t want either of them any different.
“D’yer want that drink, missus?” The little cockney boy had slid into Rosie’s seat without Kathy seeing. “’Cause if you don’t want it, you might as well give it to me.”
Momentarily taken aback, Kathy recognized the little chap as being one of the caravanners whose mother, with one other child, had only recently arrived at the site. The mother appeared to have little money; from what Rosie had told her, the woman’s husband had paid in advance to book them all into the caravan and promptly ran off with some woman, supposedly a friend of theirs.
Angry and disillusioned, the mother had been determined to enjoy their holiday anyway. As she said to Rosie, “To hell with him … before too long he’ll come back, wanting his warm bed and an easy meal on the table, but when he does he’ll be shown the door, you can depend on that.”
Without hesitation, Rosie had been in full agreement. “You do right,” she told the hapless woman. “Men like that want their doofers chopped off.” Though, knowing Rosie, Kathy thought that would be the last thing she wanted … for any man to be without his “doofer,” as she called it.
“Well, missus, do I get the drink or not?”
Kathy pushed the glass of orange toward him. “I’d had enough anyway,” she told him with a smile. “Go on, son. You finish it if you want.”
“Cor, thanks, missus!” In minutes he had wolfed the drink down. “Mam says we can’t afford luxuries,” he said, his eyes filled with tears. “She says our old man’s run off with his tart, and we’ll have to go without.”
“Without what?”
His little face was downcast. “Everything! Me dad promised we’d be going on the donkeys in Weymouth and we’d ’ave ice-cream. He said if we were good he might take us for a ride in one o’ them boats … he said sometimes if you pay, they let you take them out all by yourself.” He glanced up, his eyes alive with anger. “An” now we ain’t gonna get nuffin.” As he talked he nervously wound his tiny fists one into the other. “I hate him.” His bottom lip began to tremble. “I hate him!”
Aware that at any minute he would burst into tears, Kathy put a comforting arm around his shoulders. “I’ll tell you what,” she said. “How about if I treat you to an ice-cream? A big strawberry cornet, with chocolate sauce on top.”
Though he licked his lips at the prospect, he shook his head. “Naw. Me mam says she’ll tan me arse if I take anything from strangers. I shouldn’t have had that drink, only I were thirsty, and she ain’t got no money.” He thought about the ice-cream and wondered if it would be all right, but then he shook his head. “Naw. I’d best not, missus.”
“What if we find your mammy and ask her?”
As it turned out, they didn’t have to look far for her, because just then she could be heard calling for him, and a moment later she appeared from around the corner. “Where’ve you been, you little sod?” Taking him by the scruff of the neck, she told Kathy, “I’m sorry if he’s been a nuisance. He keeps wandering off, and I can’t keep track of him.”
Kathy assured her he had been fine. “In fact, I was thinking of asking you a favor.” She could see how, in spite of her bravado, the poor woman looked haggard and pale. It must be hard for her to cope, she thought.
The woman was instantly suspicious. “What kind o’ favor?”
“I could take him off your hands for half an hour if you like … give you a break?”
“Why? What you got in mind?” God only knew she could do with a break. The girl was too young to realize what was happening, but not the boy. He was in such a rebellious mood, she didn’t know how to deal with him.
Kathy understood her dilemma. “He’ll be safe enough, I promise. I thought I might get him an ice-cream and take him down to see the boats … if that’s all right with you? A friend of mine has just bought a small boat. I’m sure, if we asked him, he wouldn’t mind letting your lad go aboard … just to have a look round.”
“Oh, please, Mam!” By this time the boy was leaping up and down. “Please!”
The woman studied Kathy for a minute; it wasn’t often anyone was kind to them. “You’re from the reception, ain’t yer?”
Kathy nodded. “I work with Rosie, yes.”
The woman laughed, a roar of a laugh that stopped passers-by in their tracks. “That Rosie’s a buggeroota and no mistake! If she had her way she’d cut my old man’s doofer off, that’s what she said, and I reckon she’s right an’ all!”
When she’d composed herself, the woman said, “Go on then, Frank. But only for half an hour. Keep an eye on him,” she said to Kathy, “”cause he’s like slippery Jack: you never know where he’ll be off to next. He might be a bag o’ trouble, and there are times when I could swing for ”im.” She smiled down on the boy, who returned the smile with affection. “But I don’t want him drowning.”
So it was agreed.
“Where’s the boat?” Frank asked for the umpteenth time.
“Just there.” Kathy pointed to the small boat moored at the harbor. “The one with the furled-down sails.” Amongst the fishing boats it was easy to spot.
“All right. I’ll be there in half an hour to collect him.” Wagging a finger at the boy, his mother told him, “You behave yourself, or there’ll be a smack o’ the arse waiting for you when I get back!” With that, and the other, small child in her arms, she went away. “To sit by the river and watch the ducks,” she said.
Kathy had bought him an ice-cream, just as she had promised, with a river of chocolate sauce running down the sides; while he slurped at that – with ice-cream and sauce mingling to form all manner of patterns on his shirt – she led him down to the harbor. When he’d finished, she wiped his face and shirt with her handkerchief, until at length he looked near enough respectable.
“I’m not sure if my friend is on the boat,” she explained. “If not, I’m sure Jasper will be there. He’ll persuade one of the fishermen to let you on board.”
“Who’s Jasper?”
“He’s another friend.”
“That’s a funny name.”
“It suits him though.”
“What does he look like?”
Kathy smiled. “Rosie says he’s a rough-looking Father Christmas.”
The boy laughed. “There ain’t no Father Christmas.”
Kathy was shocked. “Who told you that?”
“My dad.”
“Well, I believe in Father Christmas, and I don’t care what anybody says.”
Kathy squeezed his hand. “Good for you!” If she did nothing else today, she had restored a child’s belief.
As they approached the harbor, Kathy could see Tom on the decking. “TOM!” Having caught his attention, she took the boy at a run over the little bridge. “We need to ask you a favor,” she said breathlessly.
Tom looked pleased to see her. “Who’s your little friend?”
Kathy looked down at the boy. “This is Frank.”
Tom held out his hand in greeting. “Hello, Frank,” he said.
The boy was wary of Tom, but not shy. “Hello, mister. Can I come on your boat?”
Laughing, Tom ushered them aboard. While the boy scouted about at the helm, Kathy gave Tom a brief résumé of the boy’s background. “His mother’s doing the best she can, but the children are having to go without.”
Tom thought it was a sad affair. “All right,” he said. “We’ll see what we can do to make his holiday one to remember.” For a moment, he gazed at her, then smiled and nodded. Placing his hand lightly on her back, he ushered her inside to where the boy was pretending to be captain. “Will it go?” he asked.
“Will what go?” Tom thought of his own son, and the pain was like a fist inside his heart.
“This boat. Will it go?”
“Yes, it will,” he said as he sat beside the boy, “but I’m not yet up to taking her out to sea.”
The boy’s disappointment was obvious. “Why not?”
Tom tried to explain. “I’ve only just got it. There’s a lot to learn before I can take her right out.”
Seeing the boy’s despondence, he had an idea. “Look, I’ll tell you what. Let me have a word with an old friend of mine. I’m sure we can wangle something for you.”
“Is he called Jasper?”
“Well, yes …” He glanced up at Kathy, who gave him a knowing wink. “So, you already know him, do you?”
“Kathy told me about him!” His smile lit the day. “He’s the one as looks like Father Christmas. My dad says there ain’t no Father Christmas, but me and her know different, don’t we?” Gesturing with his thumb, he nodded appreciatively when Kathy confirmed his assertion with a smile.
Leaving Kathy and Frank on board, Tom set off to find Jasper. He tracked him down aboard one of the fishing boats. Jasper and his mate, Jack Plummer, were sitting, pipe-smoking and enjoying a glass of cider.
Tom quickly explained the situation; both men thought the boy should have the treat of his life. “Fetch him along,” Jack said. “We’ll take him up to the headland and back.”
When Tom told him what the plan was, Frank was beside himself with excitement. “Can I drive?”
“You’ll have to ask the skipper.”
Once on board, Jack handed Kathy the smallest lifejacket he could find. “Put this on the boy,” he ordered. “And here’s another for yourself. Nobody comes out on this boat without wearing a life-jacket.”
When all four were suitably dressed, the skipper kicked the engine into life, and they were away, with the boy whooping and hollering, and Kathy being thrown from side to side. “You haven’t got your sea-legs yet,” Jasper told her. “You’ll have to come out more often, so ye will.”
While the boy sat in the wheelhouse with Jasper and the skipper, Kathy and Tom kept out of the way. There wasn’t enough room for all of them in there, so they stood at the stern amid the buckets, ropes and nets, watching the water churning in the boat’s wake, and feeling content in each other’s company. “He’s a smart little boy,” Tom remarked. “It’s a pity his father’s gone off and left him. A boy needs his father.”
He watched the boy for a time, taking great delight in his antics at the wheel. Wearing the boatman’s oversized cap, he was pretending to be skipper. “So, he thinks Jasper is Father Christmas?” Tom laughed at the idea. “That’s you, is it?”
“No, it’s Rosie’s fault.” Kathy relayed the discussion she and the boy had had on the way to the harbor. “His father told him there was no Father Christmas, and I’m afraid I disputed that.”
Tom condoned what Kathy had done. “That’s a sad thing for a father to tell the boy,” he murmured. “Kids need to believe in magic. We all do.”
He thought of the many times when his own children’s eyes had lit up when faced with the magic of Christmas trees, and presents that had “come down the chimney.” He remembered them being mesmerized by tales of how the little people helped Father Christmas prepare all the toys, ready for deliveries through the night. It was tradition; it was fantasy and wonder; it gave only pleasure. He thought of all that, and was saddened by the awful knowledge that his own children had never gone beyond that innocent state of wonder, before their young lives had been cut short.
Kathy had wondered at his comment, and now she wondered at his prolonged silence. When, like now, he lapsed into that dark, secret mood, she knew he was somewhere she could not go. It was as if a barrier had gone up between them, and unless he trusted her enough to confide in her, she had no way of breaking it down.
She could hear Frank laughing and shouting in the wheelhouse, and Jasper explaining everything to him. Suddenly, they made a sharp turn; the boy could hardly contain his enthusiasm, “It’s like the funfair!” As they bounced from wave to wave, he was overwhelmed with excitement.
All too soon, the short boat ride was over. When his mother came to collect him, the boy was full of it. “Cor, you should have seen me!” As they went away, he could be heard telling her all about the boat and how the water splashed up on the deck, and he even wore the skipper’s cap. “I’ll be good at school,” he promised, “because when I grow up, I want to be a fisherman!”
Somewhere in amongst all that excitement was his proud declaration that, “Daddy was wrong. There is a Father Christmas! I’ve seen him.” He chatted on and on, a very different little boy from the sorry, thirsty child who had sidled up to Kathy earlier.
As they turned the corner, before disappearing out of sight, his mother glanced back. When her gaze alighted on Kathy, she smiled. And Kathy understood.
“You’re a natural with children,” Tom remarked as they walked back to his boat.
“I love kids,” she confessed. “I always said I’d have four – two of each.” She laughed. “Trouble is, we can’t have them to order, can we?”
When they reached the boat and Kathy prepared to carry on home, he put out a hand to keep her there. “Don’t go yet, Kathy.” There was a well of emotion in his quiet voice. “Please?”
Kathy gave a nervous little laugh. “I won’t, not if you don’t want me to.”
“Come on then!” Greatly relieved, he said, “Come aboard.”
Having hoped he would ask her to stay, Kathy was suddenly afraid. She thought about Rosie’s warning, that he might break her heart. She was already beginning to fall in love with him. But what if he didn’t have the same feelings for her? What if she was making a rod for her own back by keeping company with him? She didn’t want more heartbreak. Suddenly, all the old doubts came alive in her mind.
“I make a great cup of tea.” His voice was soft in her ear, his smile enticing.
She nodded. “All right.” She smiled. As he helped her up the gangplank, all the doubts seemed to vanish.
While Tom busied himself in the tiny galley, she took the opportunity to have another look round. “It seems different from before, when you went to buy it.” She was outside now, seated on the bench in the well of the stern. “It’s lovely, Tom. Really lovely.”
Emerging with the tray, he explained, “I found some ginger-nuts in the cupboard. I don’t know about you, but I’ve always been partial to a ginger-nut.” The tray also contained milk, sugar, two cups and saucers and a huge pot of tea. “I’ve made plenty.” He grinned wickedly. “I figured, the more you have to eat and drink, the longer I
might keep you here.”
Placing the tray on an upturned crate, he proceeded to pour the tea. “How do you like it?”
“One sugar, plenty of milk.” Kathy’s heart was racing after what he had said, and she was content to let him do the pouring. “Oh, and I might as well have a ginger-nut, seeing as you’ve gone to the trouble of bringing them out.” Reaching forward, she helped herself to one. “You love this boat, don’t you?” She felt so easy with him, it was incredible.
He glanced at her. “I do, yes.” He wanted to say more, but the words were locked in, and he couldn’t let them out.
“You said the boat was ‘different,’” he reminded her.
Kathy took a sip of her tea. “Yes, I did.” Turning her head, she looked back inside. Somehow the boat seemed to have taken on a heart since she had last seen it. “You’ve turned it into a home,” she said. “Look at that – with the sun coming out, and the portholes open to the breeze, the whole place seems larger and brighter.” There’s something else, too, she thought. There was an air of belonging … a sense of achievement. “It’s got your stamp all over it,” she said. “I think it’s … lovely!”
Sitting on the curve of the seat, he looked at her for a moment, the merest suggestion of a smile in his eyes as he said softly, “I think you’re lovely.”
Kathy had never been one for blushing, but since meeting Tom she seemed to be blushing all the time. She blushed now, shrugged her shoulders; she didn’t know quite what to say. “Are you happy with the boat, Tom?” she stammered. “Will you take her out soon?”
He laughed. “I’m not ready yet.”
Pointing to the tunnel of water that led out to sea, he explained, “That’s the thing I’m worried about … some days the water thrashes about like a demon. On bad days, I’ve seen experienced sailors get thrown about like matchwood. No, I’ve got to be a better sailor than I am now before I dare attempt it. Jasper reckons I’ll be good enough to take the wheel pretty soon.”