Entrance to the Harbour

by Peters, Sue

  `Jo made my pendant The one I showed you,’ Melanie claimed more than acquaintanbceship. ‘I told you …’

  `In that case,’ the man’s face took on a look of interest, `did you also tell the lady what I asked you to?’

  `No, I haven’t seen her since,’ Melanie replied. But you can ask her yourself, now she’s here.’

  `Ask me what?’ Jo was mystified.

  `About the pendant,’ he began.

  `It was one I made myself.’ Surely he did not think Melanie had been shoplifting?

  `Exactly. I’m told you design the jewellery, and make it yourself.’ The shopkeeper looked at her questioningly, seeming to seek confirmation of something.

  `That’s right. I found this particular stone on the shore, and as I’d got a mount with me I made it up for Melanie.’ Jo made it quite clear where the girl had received it from.

  `It’s beautiful. And good quality, too,’ the shopkeeper beamed. ‘You’ve probably seen that we do a small line in gift ware here, all of it high quality.’ He waved his hand about the shop. But mostly, it’s pottery work, and visitors don’t always want another pot to add to their collection. Good quality jewellery would sell well,’ he said shrewdly. `Did you make your own brooch yourself?’ he fixed interested eyes on the one gracing Jo’s jersey.

  `Yes, I wanted a fairly plain one …’

  `It’s ideal for the sort of trade we attract,’ the man told her. ‘Excellent quality, in good taste, without costing the earth—a piece of jewellery like that would make a really nice holiday souvenir without being blatantly “a present from Blackpool”.’ He spoke in italics, and Jo laughed.

  `I love the work,’ she admitted, ‘though I’d never considered doing it on a commercial scale before.’ Chris had suggested it, and she had toyed with the idea, but it hardly seemed a feasible means for an income in such a small place.

  `We’ve got another shop at Arlmouth,’ the man might have been reading her thoughts. ‘Perhaps you’d care to think it over, as you intend to remain in the district,’ he suggested. ‘I’d be prepared to take all you make of this kind of thing. The pendant, for example, would fetch …’ He mentioned a price that made Jo’s eyebrows rise.

  `I had thought of looking for a job to occupy the winter months,’ she said tentatively. She did not want her companion to know how her heart thumped with excitement at the prospect. Here was the answer to her problems—a steady income from the sale of her jewellery. A bright smile

  transformed her face. Work she enjoyed, and a home of her own to do it in. The thought brought her back to the cottage.

  `I’ll bring in some of my designs to show you,’ she offered. ‘Some of the matching sets are really very pretty. But now ‘ she held up the key to remind him.

  `Ah yes, the cottage. I’ll come and let you in, the lock’s a bit stiff.’ With olde-worlde courtesy that Jo found very attractive—it reminded her sharply of her father—he handed her out of his own door and armed her along the street. ‘There now, I’ll leave you to look round on your own. Just close the door and pop in to let me know what you think, when you’ve finished.’ And he left her.

  The hall was tiny, the stairs steep. And there were, indeed, two rooms up and two down as the advertisement said, but although the outside of the cottage looked narrow, squeezed in between others along the street, it was surprisingly roomy. It was in good condition as well. If only the price was right … She sought the bookseller.

  `Are any other people interested in the cottage?’ She held her breath for his reply. The asking price was several hundred pounds below what she would receive from their previous dwelling, it would leave her a nest egg to lean on as well as something to make the cottage comfortable. Green curtains would look nice ….

  `No, there’s no one else interested in it, or likely to be,’ he set her mind at rest. ‘There aren’t many people who actually want to settle here to live,’ he went on conversationally. ‘There’s not much choice of work, except for the fisher folk, and mostly people just want to hire a cottage for the summer And the owner doesn’t want to let it, she wants to sell outright and get a lump sum behind her, you understand,’ he explained.

  Jo understood very well. She felt a bond of sympathy with the unknown owner, who she had elicited was also the widow of a fisherman.

  `How can I get in touch with her?’ Now she had seen the place she could hardly wait to have the purchase settled, and move in.

  `I’ll be seeing her myself sometime this afternoon, as a matter of fact.’ The shopkeeper was eager to be helpful. `She’s by way of being a relative of mine, and we keep in touch. The place is as good as yours,’ he assured Jo.

  Someone else who’s related, she smiled to herself, but she made her way out of the shop with light steps, and more hope in her heart than she had known for several months.

  `Hello, Amos,’ she called cheerfully across the street to the old fisherman, who was making his way down to where his rowing boat was tied up at the breakwater. The Sea Swallow was anchored out in the bay, and Jo could see Roddy already in the row boat waiting for Amos to join him.

  `Hello, Amos !’

  He heard her. She was certain he heard her. He must have done, for he glanced towards her as she spoke, but instead of replying to her greeting he turned his head away, spat, and carried on walking, ignoring her as if she did not exist.

  Jo stopped in her tracks, and the colour drained from her face. What contempt the old man must have for her, to do such a dreadful thing ! All her new-found cheerfulness deserted her with a rush, and left her feeling sick. Amos must know she and Lance had taken the Kittiwake out, and that Dan had to bring the Sea Swallow to rescue them, and this was the old fisherman’s reaction. Slowly Jo started to walk towards the lifeboat station. She had hoped to look round it, when she joined Chris and Melanie, but now she no longer wanted to. The lifeboatmen probably held the same low opinion of her; news would travel fast in such a small community, and no doubt Amos had expressed his opinion to his contemporaries in as forceful a manner verbally as he had exhibited by his silence now. Her spirits

  sank to zero, and she dropped on to the low stone coping of the sea wall and watched listlessly as Amos waded out to Roddy, and the boy began rowing towards the trawler. Was she wise to purchase the cottage in the high street? Or would it be better to go back inland, where she belonged? Where Tessa said she belonged? Her heart cried an anguished ‘No !’, but her troubled mind filled with doubt.

  `I thought you were coming to see over the lifeboat with us.’

  `Have a piece of toffee, it’s lovely.’

  She shook her head, blankly, refusing the toffee. Anything to eat would choke her, she thought miserably.

  `I stayed browsing longer than I intended to,’ she excused her non-appearance to the ebullient pair. ‘Are you two ready to go back to the car? I’ll just have to pop back to the bookshop and get a magazine I forgot. You can go on and wait for me.’ She would have a word with the shopkeeper, tell him she wanted time to think over the purchase of the cottage. She chose a magazine blindly, to make her excuse true. She would give it to Hannah, the housekeeper would enjoy the knitting pattern that her blurred eyes picked out on the front cover.

  `About the cottage …’ she began as she paid the proprietor.

  `Well now,’ the man looked faintly uncomfortable. ‘I did say there wasn’t anyone else after it, but that wasn’t quite right, it seems.’ He shifted his gaze uneasily. It rested with obvious relief on another customer who also approached the counter with a magazine in her hand.

  `Good morning, Miss Tremayne,’ he called, and turned back to Jo. ‘There’s a gentleman who wants the cottage as well, and he’s willing to pay a good price to reserve it,’ he tumbled his words out hastily, patently uneasy at his volte-face. ‘Though I can’t imagine what he can want it for,’ he added half to himself, ‘with him living up at Penderick

  Head it isn’t the sort of place I’d have thought he would want for a home.’

/>   `Dan Penderick asked you to reserve it?’ Jo faced him furiously, the direct question thrown at him so that he had to answer, and he nodded, unhappily conscious that he had revealed who the second interested party was. And also, by his guilty mien, betrayed that he had been instructed not to reveal the name of that second party.

  `What would Dan want with such a place?’ she cried furiously. ‘I asked for it first. I have a right …’

  `I’m sorry, miss, but Mr Penderick offered a much higher price,’ the shopkeeper began.

  A higher price than she could pay. One he knew she could not possibly match, Jo thought bitterly, a flash of intuition telling her that Dan did not intend her to have the cottage. Why? What was it to do with him where she went, or what she bought?

  `Maybe he’s prepared to pay to keep you out,’ Tessa divined her thoughts with unkind accuracy. ‘We don’t like strangers here,’ she added spitefully, and handed over the money for her purchase.

  `Now, Miss Tremayne, that’s not true,’ the shopkeeper began, and looked as unhappy as the foreman had looked the day before.

  `If it isn’t true, why should Dan be prepared to pay over the odds for a tumbledown old cottage he doesn’t need and can’t want?’ Tessa asked vindictively. ‘You might just as well give in and leave,’ she swung round on Jo. ‘Go back to where you came from.’ She looked at Jo’s white face staring back at her numbly, saw the hurt in the pansy brown eyes, and her own gleamed triumphantly. ‘If Dan’s blocked your purchase of this cottage, he’ll block any other you try to make the district. He’s rich enough to buy half a dozen and not notice,’ she persisted spitefully.

  `In that case, there’s no more to be said. Thank you for

  the magazine.’ With her head held high Jo nodded to the shopkeeper, and calling up all her pride to aid her dignity she walked past Tessa and quit the shop.

  I’ll leave Penderick House tomorrow, she vowed. Dan should not have the satisfaction of seeing how his action had hurt. Coming on top of Amos’s contemptuous rebuff, it dealt her a blow that left her feeling strangely empty inside, an emptiness that was slowly being filled by a cold, consuming anger. It was a sly, underhand means of getting rid of her, a cowardly means. He must have seen the shopkeeper take her to the cottage, and realised her intention, and then waited until she left before he went to the bookseller himself and told him to stop the purchase. She had no doubt Dan had told the man that, and being a local, he would do as the Pendericks asked, rather than oblige a stranger.

  She refused to break the silence between them on the way back. Melanie accompanied them, and scrambled into the back seat with Chris, so that they could open the new book between them and look at it right away. Perforce, Jo had to take the front seat beside Dan.

  `Did you get all you wanted in the village?’ He looked at her searchingly, and she avoided his eyes.

  `No,’ she replied curtly. He knew she had not, so why ask, unless he wanted to gloat over foiling her plans?

  `Jo …’ He hesitated, then his glance went to the two youngsters on the back seat, and he shrugged. ‘It’ll do later,’ he said, and lapsed into silence, that became charged with feeling as they took the road towards Penderick Head, but Jo felt disinclined to break it, even though the sense of strain between them became almost unbearable, a tangible presence, like a silent menace, that seemed to destroy her power of speech in the car, and her appetite for the excellent lunch Hannah served shortly afterwards.

  `By the way, Miss Jo,’ she set down a small, awkwardly

  wrapped parcel beside Jo’s plate, ‘Amos called in half an hour since, and he asked me to give you this, from him, special.’ Her eyes smiled.

  `From Amos?’ What would Amos want to send her? Particularly after their unfortunate meeting that morning. Jo slid aside the paper wrapping wonderingly. ‘Why, they’re coloured stones. Here’s some small ones that match Melanie’s pendant. Oh, Hannah, they’re lovely !’ She trickled the multi-coloured offering through her fingers. ‘There’s enough to keep me occupied for ages. But why should Amos …?’ She raised puzzled eyes to the housekeeper.

  `Well, he thought you might be a bit put out by this morning, like,’ Hannah said placatingly. ‘It’s even dawned on Amos that other folk might not understand his odd ways.’

  `Understand what?’ Dan’s voice sounded uncompromising. ‘What happened between you and Amos this morning?’ he demanded from Jo, and she flushed. It was no concern of Dan’s what had happened that morning, and in view of his attitude she felt disinclined to supply him with an answer. She resented his tone, and if he wanted her out of the district anyway, why should he bother if she and Amos had crossed swords? Surely it would suit him if the old fisherman made her feel unwelcome as well?

  `Amos met Miss Jo on his way down to the Sea Swallow this morning,’ Hannah explained for her, and saved Jo from answering. ‘He ran out of baccy on his way back from the fishing grounds, so he anchored up in the bay and got Roddy to row him ashore to buy some before he took the boat on into the harbour to unload. You know what he’s like for his baccy,’ she exclaimed. ‘Miss Jo saw him going back to the boat and spoke to him.’ She said it as if it was something significant, and Jo wrinkled her brow, feeling lost. Hannah spoke in riddles, and her patience was wearing thin with trying to solve them.

  `Of course I spoke to him,’ she cried. ‘I couldn’t just ignore someone I knew, pass them by in the street without a word …’

  `Amos and his confounded superstitions !’ Dan’s voice grated harshly. ‘They make him positively uncivilised.’ His scowl boded ill for Amos when they met.

  `Why, what have I done wrong now?’ Would she ever understand these people? Jo wondered despairingly.

  `You haven’t done anything wrong at all,’ Julian butted in, his gentle voice easing both her own annoyance and his brother’s black look. ‘It’s just that—according to Amos’s generation—it’s unlucky if a woman speaks to a man on his way to his boat. What did he do?’ he quizzed Jo kindly. `It’s my guess,’ when she shook her head, refusing to reply, `it’s my guess he looked away from you, and spat?’ There was a twinkle in his eye as Jo’s quick flush proved him right. ‘That wasn’t intended as an insult to you,’ he pointed out. ‘It was merely a propitiation to lady luck, that’s all.’

  `I felt—I felt—’ she stammered to a stop. She did not want to explain, not even to Julian, how she felt.

  `Upset, I’ll warrant,’ Hannah looked at her keenly. ‘Well, it even penetrated Amos’s thick skull that other folk might not like it,’ she said grimly. ‘Not that it’d bother him with most lassies, but he’s got right fond of you,’ she added surprisingly.

  `Of me?’ First Lance had told her, now Hannah. Could they be right? A small warm spot touched her bleak mood at the thought.

  `Aye, you,’ the housekeeper nodded. ‘Why, I mind he even said he hoped—oh well, never mind what he hoped,’ Hannah suddenly became over busy with rearranging the plates on the table. ‘Anyway,’ she threw over her shoulder offhandedly, ‘he stopped to pick up some pretty stones out of the cove for you. He heard Melanie say you wanted some for your jewellery,’ she finished.

  `How kind of him !’ Jo’s eyes softened at the old man’s touching gesture. ‘I’ll go and thank him right after lunch.’

  `You won’t see him until tomorrow,’ Julian put in. ‘I happen to know he’s taken the Sea Swallow up to Arlmouth, he’ll probably trawl his way back, maybe spend the night on the boat.’

  `He knows there’s no need to bother.’ Dan sounded exasperated. ‘His catch was more than enough this morning.’

  `You know Amos,’ Julian shrugged. ‘When there’s a good shoal running he can’t resist them. I’ve warned him before about wearing himself out, there’s no need, the retainer you pay him alone is more than enough to keep him.’ He glanced straight at Dan as he spoke and the twinkle in his eye brightened at the sheepish look on his brother’s face `Oh, I know you pay him a pension …’

  `It’s a retainer, not a pensi
on,’ Dan growled.

  `Call it a pension and Amos would starve rather than accept it,’ Julian smiled openly now. ‘But he’ll never stop fishing, so long as he can take a boat out. He’s past it really, but he’s nothing if not stubborn.’ He shook his head.

  `It keeps him happy.’ Dan closed the subject with a note of finality, patently uncomfortable by the disclosure of his thoughtful provision for the most senior of his trawler skippers.

  Lying awake late that night, Jo wondered what happiness Amos could find, groping through the dark waters, that lay now shrouded in the sudden, treacherous fog that came up suddenly along the coast hereabouts, descending from nowhere in a blinding blanket, and lifting just as unexpectedly. By tomorrow morning it would probably be gone.

  She wondered if the young, dark-haired mother-to-be lay listening, as she did, to the eerie hooting of a foghorn from somewhere out beyond the bay. She shivered as she thought of the Claw Rocks, and lay half dozing, half listening.

  There seemed to be only the one hooter. Something about the sound seemed vaguely familiar to her dreaming mind. Two short blasts and a long one. Surely Amos had not got his own fog code, as well? It would be just like him, to be different from all the rest. She smiled into the darkness. All the other fog signals she had heard had been one long hoot, at intervals. Two short blasts, and a long one … It went on and on, like an S.O.S.

  An S.O.S. She sat bolt upright in bed, shocked into full wakefulness. That was what it was. The eerie hooting came again. Two short blasts, and a long one. The universal distress signal. And Amos—stubborn old Amos, who was long past his fishing days, but would not give in—was somewhere out there on the Sea Swallow. And calling to them through the darkness and the fog, for help.

  CHAPTER TEN

  `DAN, wake up ! Dan !’

  Jo hammered on his bedroom door, fear lending strength to her fists. The S.O.S. still echoed through the house, like the sound of doom. It drove her from her bed, heedless of the fact that her nightdress swirled about her feet in a froth of blue nylon and white lace, uncovered by her dressing gown which she ignored in her haste as it hung on the back of her bedroom door, and she fled along the landing to where Dan’s room lay at the head of the stairs.