Chapter 5
For a moment, Carrie thought Pa was going to have a seizure. The veins stood out on his forehead like purple cords, and she heard Ma’s pull of breath as she put a restraining hand on his arm. He shook her off as if she were an irritating insect.
‘You insolent young whelp!’ Pa bellowed. ‘The girl’s no more than a child, and I’ll not have some fresh-faced fellow sniffing at her skirts just because he thinks I owe him summat.’
May asserted herself at that, despite Sam’s fury.
‘Of course we owe Mr Travis summat. We owe him our Billy’s life, and we can’t forget that. You should remember summat else too, Sam. Our Carrie’s no longer a child, and the time’s right for her to be courting.’
Her voice thinned as Sam glowered at her. She didn’t often go against him so blatantly in the midst of her family, and never with a stranger listening. Though, like all women she was adept at subtle handling when she wanted her own way, as he very well knew.
His scowling gaze moved towards his daughter. Of course he’d noted her in her finery on the day of the launch, in the same way he’d noted the rest of his family, spruced and oiled, and doing him proud in the Grand Stand along with the nobs. But he’d preferred not to notice Carrie too much as a growing-up female, with all the problems such a state was likely to bring into the home. He wanted to go on thinking of Carrie as his one ewe-lamb, even though he rarely let such sentiments into his mind, let alone pass his lips.
But he was being pushed into seeing her differently now, and he didn’t thank this Travis fellow for it. He was obliged to see his girl’s shining eyes and full red mouth. He saw how her shape filled out her work-dress now, and was no longer board-flat from neck to hem. He was obliged to know that she had womanly feelings inside her, wanting him to let her go walking out with this stranger. Wanting to be free of childish restraints, before he was ready to let her go … but he knew too, that you could no more hold back a child who was straining to be free, than you could capture a breeze.
‘I’d need to know summat more about you before I felt willing to agree to any such thing,’ he almost roared at John.
Ma spoke at once, seeing the threat of more than one temper exploding. ‘Sit you down, Mr Travis, and I’ll make us all some tea.’
‘If Mr Stuckey has no objection,’ John said, still addressing him, and hardly looking at Carrie.
‘How the hell else am I going to find out the whys and wherefores about you? For God’s sake, sit down, boy, and tell us about yourself,’ Sam spoke testily now, annoyed at realising that his wife and the stranger were being far more gracious and dignified than himself.
John sat on the carved wooden settle, and Billy curled up beside him, clearly besotted by his hero, and enchanted by the idea that it seemed he’d be seeing him again, even if he had no idea what ‘walking out’ meant.
Quickly, Carrie followed Ma out to the scullery to help prepare the tea, closing the connecting door behind her. She leaned against it, her heart beating sickeningly fast.
Everything had happened with such speed, and she didn’t know whether excitement or fright was uppermost in her mind. She had never walked out with a boy before, and she wouldn’t know how to behave when she was alone with him — or just how often they would be allowed to be alone together without a chaperone.
And nobody had actually asked her what she thought about it, she thought. It was all the business of the men, as if she had no say, or no feelings in the matter at all. But she had a mind of her own, and it was going to be her decision in the end.
Besides which, she felt good and angry at John. She’d seen the way her Pa had glanced at her, and guessed that her eyes were sparkling. But they’d been sparkling with rage, as much as anything else, for hadn’t she expressly asked John not to bring the clobber back to the house? She’d known there would be uproar about it, and she was certain it wasn’t over yet. Nor was she going to give in meekly to the flattery of going out with a boy, without letting him know exactly what she thought!
Her hands felt clammy, for she certainly did have feelings for John Travis, although they weren’t too clear in her mind. She didn’t really know him at all, and he could be after more than just innocent courting. Elsie had put those ideas in her head … and as her thoughts flitted towards Elsie, she knew she must ask her for advice. Elsie had been with boys, and she’d know what to do.
She realised that Ma was clattering cups and plates about, the way she did when she was out of sorts. Guilt surged through Carrie now, over the deceit that had brought about this situation.
‘I’m sorry, Ma,’ she said uneasily. ‘I should have told you about bringing John — Mr Travis here, and giving him our Wilf’s old clothes. I told him not to bother returning ’em, as Wilf never wears ’em now, but I suppose he forgot.’
‘And how long did you think our Billy was going to keep the secret all to himself? I’ve known since the day of the launch that he had summat bursting to be told. You did wrong not to tell us he’d fallen in the river, Carrie. What if he’d been drowned?’
‘Well, he wasn’t, and I didn’t want to spoil the day for you. He was only in the water for a few minutes before John jumped in after him and hauled him out.’ She was becoming belligerent, thinking that it was a fine old thing if meeting a boy could bring about all this fuss.
But she saw her mother shiver. The river had claimed many lives before, and although the huge floating harbour was relatively calm when boats weren’t churning up its waters, it was still deep. And further downstream, in the Cumberland Basin and into the river itself, there were hidden currents and thick sucking mud that meant constant danger to those living and working in and around it.
‘We won’t talk about it any more for the present, but I’m displeased with you, and I’m sure your Pa’s not done with you yet,’ Ma said. ‘You’ve got his say-so on walking out, providing he thinks well enough of the young man, but from now on you’ll have to mind yourself.’
‘Mind myself? How do you mean?’
May Stuckey gave an embarrassed little cough.
‘I mean there are certain things we need to discuss, when the men are out of the house, and our Billy’s in bed. It’s women’s talk, Carrie.’
She would say no more as the kettle began to sing, and Carrie hurriedly attended to the tea-making, her face as flushed as Ma’s, knowing that she didn’t want to hear this ‘women’s talk’. They worked in silence, until the tea had brewed, and there was a platter piled high with buttered buns and plum jam. It was all taken into the parlour, where the men sat in even stiffer silence. Even Billy was unusually subdued for once. Carrie glanced at John and saw his uneasy smile.
From her Pa’s red neck, she thought she could guess only too well what had happened. Pa had suddenly discovered that John Travis was no fly-by-night sniffing around his daughter, but the nephew of a respectable boat-owning man, who had aspirations of being the same.
And Sam Stuckey was temporarily an out-of-work carpenter, together with his elder sons, and with a wife and daughter who took in laundry for the nobs. After his first angry reaction to John’s arrival, Sam’s pride would have taken a severe knocking.
Far from crowing over her Pa’s discomfiture, Carrie felt a rush of love for him. It wasn’t his fault he had no work at present, nor that he felt fiercely defensive towards his family, and frequently showed it in his aggressive manner. And far from being excited at the thought of walking out with a boy, she was fast becoming resentful of John Travis, in coming here with Wilf’s working clobber, when it had been the last thing she’d wanted.
She offered round the plate of buns, and caught sight of her workaday hands. She was reminded at once of the contrast between her own and Miss Helen Barclay’s soft white hands, and in so doing, she remembered her manners, even if the rest of her stubborn family seemed to have temporarily forgotten them. John would undoubtedly be regretting the day he’d become involved with the difficult and insular Stuckey family, Carrie
thought. She tried to speak naturally through her sudden misery, by bringing her Pa’s expertise to his notice.
‘Do you notice the craftsmanship of the settle you’re sitting on, John? Pa made it for Ma as a wedding gift.’
He seemed thankful to examine the deep-grained wood of the settle, highly polished over the years now, despite the many scratches and nicks made by the nails from childish boots.
‘It’s a very fine piece of work,’ John agreed. ‘In fact, I’d think it a great honour if Mr Stuckey would make us a similar one when the time comes for us to be wed. It would be a good family tradition to continue.’
Sam’s cup banged onto his saucer, the compliment on his craft dismissed in the rest of John’s words, and clearly seeing himself patronised by this young upstart.
‘You’re thinking away too far ahead of yourself, boy. I gave my permission for you to court our Carrie, but she’s far too young to be thinking of getting wed yet. There’s many a long day between the one and the other.’
‘Perhaps you could keep the idea in mind for which of us gets wed first, Pa,’ Carrie said nervously, involving her brothers as well as herself. ‘It could be the start of a family tradition, with the same rose and leaf design on it that you made for Ma.’
‘Mebbe,’ Sam snapped, but it was obvious that he refused to give any thought to weddings in the family at all. And truth to tell, Carrie was too flustered with all that was happening to think of it either. Her thoughts hadn’t gone that far ahead. One part of her was flattered and excited that John had made an offer for her, and another part was furious that he’d come unannounced and put all sorts of cats among the pigeons.
She sat tensely on the settle, with Billy separating herself and John. He was far calmer than herself, she realised, even though he could scarcely be impressed with his reception. In her heart, Carrie was deeply humiliated, thinking how differently a young man would have been received at the home of Miss Helen Barclay, whose golden image seemed to be more prominent in her mind these days than she wanted it to be.
But John Travis certainly had more self-assurance than anyone here, and even her easy-going brother, Frank, said little, while she was astute enough to see that Wilf’s usual aloof manner hid his own anger at what she had done.
‘I’ve asked Mr Stuckey if you can come to meet my uncle on Saturday week, Carrie. You’re invited for tea, so I’ll collect you at about four o’clock,’ John said, when the silence stretched into awkwardness.
Carrie felt her skin prickle. She was in a unique situation that had never happened before. A young man was asking her out, with her family listening, and nobody was really objecting. She was aware of a freedom she had never known before, yet it didn’t please her the way it should.
For a brief instant, she mourned the passing of the old Carrie with something like a physical pain, and told herself severely not to be so foolish. The one thing you couldn’t stop, according to Ma, was the passing of time. Things moved on, and so did folk.
‘Thank you,’ she said, in a scratchy voice. ‘I shall look forward to meeting your uncle.’
But it wasn’t strictly true. Meeting new people always made her feel all fingers and thumbs, and she didn’t know enough about John Travis yet to feel totally at ease with him. There had to be more to a person than good looks and a sound background, and going courting meant a certain amount of time alone with a boy. Now that it was about to happen, Carrie wasn’t sure that she was ready for it. But at least he was giving her a little time to get used to it, she thought in relief. It wasn’t for another ten days or so.
* * *
Elsie was as snappy as a floundering crab when Carrie told her the news. Elsie was still seething over the fact of seeing Wilf Stuckey making eyes at that Woolley girl in a Park Street tea-room, and her temper wasn’t improved by the necessity of sitting up for the last three nights with her granpa heaving and hawking and swearing his time had come — which it hadn’t.
Carrie found her sitting on the wharf a few evenings after John’s visit, throwing stones into the harbour with a viciousness that should have been warning enough. The huge dark mass of the floating and tethered Great Britain threw this side of the wharf in shadow, as if to emphasise Elsie’s black mood. But by now, Carrie’s head was too full of the fluster of having a boy of her own to notice it.
‘Where have you been hiding yourself all this time?’ Elsie greeted her irritably. ‘I ain’t seen hide nor hair of you lately. Been busy drooling over Miss Helen Barclay’s lace frills, have you?’
‘No, I have not,’ Carrie said, wondering why she’d never noticed before quite how vindictive Elsie could be, nor how Elsie’s accent was so drearily common. Elsie would never try to better herself in a million years … she caught herself up sharply, knowing what snobbish thoughts they were. But the thought that if — or when — she and John were married, she’d eventually be the wife of a boat-owning man, was enough to turn any girl’s head.
If they were married. She was aware that her own dark thoughts couldn’t make such a certainty of it, even now. Even though he’d come to the house and braved Pa to ask for her.
‘Well, what have you been doing then?’ Elsie said, glaring at her.
Carrie folded her arms, as if to put a barrier between herself and the taunts she knew were to come.
‘If you must know, John Travis has been to see Pa, and asked if we can start walking out,’ she said grandly.
It was a slight stretching of the truth, but only slight. John’s request had only come about as a result of taking back Wilf’s clothes, and seizing an opportunity. She knew that but for fate, they wouldn’t be in this situation now. If it hadn’t been for Billy’s accident, she and John would probably never have met. It gave her a creepy feeling, to know how small an incident could change the course of a person’s future. She immediately chided herself, for thinking of poor Billy’s accident as a small incident.
She saw Elsie’s mouth drop open. ‘I bet your Pa had summat to say about that, then! He still thinks of you as a bab in arms. Did he clap you around the ears?’
Elsie’s derision was enough to make Carrie’s eyes flash. ‘No. He agreed to it, and at the end of next week I’m going to meet John’s uncle for tea.’
Elsie’s mouth clamped shut in a straight line. ‘Well, that’s it then. I shan’t be seeing you no more if you’re hobnobbing for Saturday tea with the likes of the Bedminster Hill folk.’
‘Don’t be daft. What difference will it make to you and me? It’s only one Saturday.’
‘That’s how it starts, dummy. Once a boy takes a fancy to you, he’ll want to see you all the time, not just once now and then. Any fool knows that.’
‘And I know Pa won’t allow that,’ Carrie said, feeling totally deflated by this reaction. ‘Anyway, I wanted to ask your advice.’
‘You don’t need advice from me. You can catch a boy without even trying,’ Elsie said rudely.
‘Well, look who’s talking! The girl who’s got half the boyos at the Welsh Market mooning over her!’ Carrie didn’t know whether to laugh or snarl, until she saw that Elsie was deadly serious. ‘What’s wrong with you, anyway? Is it to do with your granpa?’
‘Yeah,’ Elsie lied. ‘I ain’t had no sleep with him these past three nights. But never mind me. What’s this advice you’re wanting?’
Carrie took a deep breath. They had begun walking along the waterfront in the direction of the Hotwell Spa, where various small craft bobbed gently on the swell of the silvery full tide, and a tall-masted trading ship made its way majestically to tie up at one of the lower wharves for unloading. They sat on a wooden seat to watch the seamen and dockers unloading and stacking the crates, idly wondering what they contained. French brandy, perhaps, or tobacco for the manufactories, or something far more mundane, like sand for the glassworks.
‘Well?’ Elsie said.
Now that she had the opportunity, Carrie was almost dumb, especially when Elsie was in this unforthcoming mood. She wis
hed she’d never mentioned it, but Elsie was like a dog with a ferret when she wanted something, the way she was over her unlikely obsession with Wilf.
‘I ain’t been out with a boy before,’ she said stiffly. ‘And I was wondering —’
Elsie gave a hoot of laughter.
‘You want to know how to pucker up your lips to kiss ’im, I suppose, and whether your noses will crash together in the process? You don’t need to worry about that, ninny! Just close your eyes, and he’ll see to it all.’
Carrie was more than irritated by her superior smile.
‘I’m not talking about the way you carry on with the Welsh boyos at the Market,’ she snapped. ‘I’m talking about me and John Travis, whose intentions are honourable.’
Elsie’s smile vanished. ‘And that puts you a cut above me, does it? Well, I thought you wanted to know about kissing, and I told you. And now I’m going home before I say summat I’ll really regret. Let me know when you want to know about anything else, and I might just tell you a few more secrets.’
She marched off, and Carrie didn’t miss the whistles from some of the unloaders at the dock as she flounced past them. Being Elsie, she couldn’t resist giving them a cheeky wave, which produced more whistling and cheering. Carrie turned to go back home, smarting at how everything seemed to be going wrong between herself and Elsie, just when she needed a friend the most. She’d really wanted to know more, especially after her awkward talk with Ma the other night. She still wanted to crawl away from the memory.
* * *
‘Now then, Carrie,’ Ma had begun when the men had gone out, and Billy was tucked up in bed. ‘We’ll have that talk. There are things you need to know to keep yourself clean for your wedding-day.’
‘I ain’t thinking about a wedding-day for years yet. Ma,’ she’d said in a fright. ‘You know Pa wouldn’t hear of it, and I’m sure John won’t want to rush into anything. We hardly know each other yet.’
‘But he’ll want to know you, girl. It’s in a man’s nature, and it’s up to a woman to make sure he respects her at all times.’
Hidden Currents Page 8