by Val Wood
‘He doesn’t,’ Nan said firmly. ‘So don’t forget. And,’ she added, ‘yon clock is fast. I put it on ten minutes to mek sure he wasn’t late.’
Jeannie laughed. ‘So did I! It’s only just gone half past five; why don’t you go back to bed for an hour? There’s no need for you to be up so early.’
To her surprise, Nan agreed. ‘I will,’ she said, slurping her tea. ‘I feel a bit tired,’ and pushing away her half-finished drink, she went back upstairs.
Jeannie ate her breakfast, glad of the chance to be alone with her thoughts without Nan sitting across from her. She was still quite nervous of her and wondered how she would cope with just the two of them in the house – Nan’s house, not hers. She suddenly thought of her mother and Tom and pondered on whether they were missing her at home. Her mother would be, she was sure, but maybe not Tom, for he was probably considering his own life, and the new one he would make with Sarah, and not thinking about her at all.
I’ll write to Ma soon, she thought. She’ll want to know how I am and what we’re doing. I can tell her the good news that Harry has gone to sea and that I’m hoping to do some braiding fairly soon when word gets round.
Later in the day she took a walk along the road to get to know the area. Nan didn’t want to go out, she said, but would stay home by the fire. ‘I’ll enjoy me own company for a change,’ she muttered. ‘Sit and do a bit o’ knitting without interruption.’
I suppose that remark was meant for me, Jeannie considered as she turned out of the terrace. I enjoyed my breakfast alone; maybe Nan wants to do the same. It can’t be easy having a stranger living in your house, even if she is married to your grandson.
She hadn’t been out more than ten minutes when she heard someone calling. ‘Mrs Carr!’ The name didn’t register at first, but then she heard ‘Jeannie!’ and looked about her in astonishment. Who knew her here in Hull?
A man on the opposite side of the road was waving at her as he walked alongside a youth pushing a handcart. A horse and waggon went by, obscuring her view, but when it passed she recognized Mike Gardiner.
‘I was just coming to see you, Mrs Carr. Or is it all right to call you Jeannie? You don’t seem old enough to be married.’ He grinned.
‘Please do,’ she said. ‘I didn’t recognize myself as Mrs Carr! But I am old enough.’ She smiled, thinking how nice it was to see a friendly face. ‘I’m nearer seventeen than sixteen.’
‘Practically an old lady then,’ he teased. ‘And just married and already your husband has left you to go to fishing.’
‘Yes, but that’s what I expected,’ she said. ‘It’s what we do, isn’t it?’
He nodded. ‘Quite right, Jeannie. Quite right. I see you’ve a sensible head on your shoulders.’ He turned and pointed across the road to where the youth was waiting by the handcart. ‘I’ve got a net there needing some expert work on it. I’ve brought ’lad myself to show him where you and Harry live and then he’ll know for another time. Are you off somewhere or can you come back to have a look at it?’
‘Oh, I’ll come back,’ she said eagerly, buoyed up by the thought that there would be more jobs after this, if he was pleased with her work.
Mike whistled to the boy to follow them and Jeannie turned round to go back home.
‘I’ve had a frame put up in the yard,’ she told him, ‘but somebody will have to help me drape the net, just for the present.’ She blushed, but was reassured when he nodded and murmured that he and the lad would do that and that it had already been dipped to remove the salt and seaweed.
She examined the net when they had stretched it over the frame so that it didn’t fold on to itself. There were several large holes and rips and snagging, and she knew there was a good deal of work to be done on it.
‘Some of these holes will take a deal of mending,’ she said. ‘It looks as if the fish have been forced through. Unless,’ she murmured, ‘you’ve had a shark in them.’
‘No shark,’ he said grimly. ‘But there was a lad on board on ’last trip that I hadn’t hired before. I saw he was riving at ’nets. He’s ’son of someone I know and I took him on as a favour. Shan’t use him again. That’s why I asked Harry to crew this time.’ He looked over her shoulder at the net. ‘Can you do it or shall I ask somebody else?’
‘Oh, I can do it all right,’ she was quick to assert. ‘But it’s not a day’s job. It will take two or maybe three days.’
‘That’s all right,’ he replied. ‘As long as it’s ready for next week when ’other ship goes out.’
She fingered the net. ‘Where’s the best place to buy hemp and twine?’ she asked. ‘I don’t know anywhere in Hull.’
‘I’ll tek you.’ Nan had come out into the yard. ‘There’s a warehouse just off ’road. They’ve everything that’s needed for net mending. How do, Mike.’ She nodded in his direction. ‘Still mekkin’ money, are you?’
‘Not much.’ He grinned. ‘But spendin’ it anyway. Acquired a second ship; did Harry tell you?’
‘Aye, he did. Hope it’s seaworthy wi’ my lad on it.’
Jeannie listened as they bantered. Harry is still her lad, doubtless always will be; I shall have to get used to that. I’ll probably never have him to myself.
After Mike had left, Nan told Jeannie that she had some mending thread if Jeannie wanted to use it, but didn’t seem offended when she said that she would rather buy her own.
‘I prefer to have a look at the quality,’ she said. ‘Scarborough fishermen are always particular about their nets; I expect the Hull men are the same.’
‘Aye, they are,’ Nan agreed and fetched her shawl so that they could go out immediately.
On the road, Jeannie saw Connie walking towards them and wondered why she wasn’t working. As the girl came nearer, she saw that she had her left hand held in a makeshift sling. She stopped to speak, but Nan without any acknowledgement of Connie walked on.
‘Have you had an accident, Connie?’
Connie nodded. ‘I fell down some steps,’ she said. ‘I think I might have broken a bone. My wrist is swollen anyway so I can’t work.’ Her face twisted in a grimace. ‘I just hope they’ll keep my job open for me.’
‘Where do you work?’
‘On ’fish quay. You need two hands for gutting and filleting.’
‘Course you do. I hope it doesn’t take too long. Have you tried putting your hand in ice to take the swelling down?’
The girl shook her head. ‘No. Haven’t done owt but put ’sling round it.’
‘Why don’t you go to work and ask for some ice? Then at least they’ll know you’re not skiving off.’
Connie looked pale and drawn. ‘Yeh,’ she said. ‘Mebbe I’ll do that.’
Nan called Jeannie to hurry up. ‘We haven’t got all day to stand yammering,’ she said. ‘There’s work to be done for some of us.’
When Jeannie caught up with her, she explained what Connie had done. ‘She fell down some steps; she thinks she might have broken a bone.’
‘Huh! Pushed more like,’ she grunted with not an ounce of sympathy in her voice. ‘They’re not a good family. You’ll be as well to keep away from her.’
Jeannie looked at her in astonishment. ‘But – she’s Rosie’s friend, isn’t she? She came to our wedding.’
‘Dare say she did,’ Nan grouched. ‘But not at my invitation. And what Rosie does is nowt to do wi’ me. She’s not under my care and she’s old enough to do as she likes.’
There was nothing more to be said on the subject and they continued walking in silence until they came to the warehouse, which was stacked to the ceiling with every type of net, including trawl and seine nets, lines and rods for single boating and anglers too, various reels of hemp and sisal thread, and net needles.
Jeannie had brought her own needle with her from Scarborough but decided to buy another as a spare. Her mother had always had two in case one broke or got lost, though the latter was hardly likely, for net needles were precious items to the net menders.
Nan stood back whilst Jeannie examined the goods on offer and then made her purchases, but she nodded approvingly as they went out, muttering, ‘So you know what you’re doing after all, in spite of being so young!’
Jeannie smiled. That was as good a compliment from Nan as she was ever going to get.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
AS SOON AS Jeannie and Nan had finished their midday meal of chops cooked with onions, potatoes and carrots, Nan told her she would clear away.
‘You get on wi’ net,’ she said. ‘It’s a fine day and you might as well mek ’most of it.’
Jeannie agreed. It wasn’t pleasant working in the rain or the cold, although she had done both, and she didn’t know if Nan would allow her to bring the smaller nets into the house as sometimes she and her mother had done to mend on their knees.
Today was fine and sunny and she couldn’t help but think of the times when they and the other women had mended nets by the Scarborough harbour, looking at the sea and the sands and the ships and talking to the visitors who stopped to watch them work. Here she was confined to the small yard and she grimaced a little as the odour from the fish meal factory and the smoke houses wafted through the air. Instead of the shrill cry of herring gulls, she could hear the shunt of railway trains from the Dairycoates locomotive sheds close by St Andrew’s Dock, where boxed fish began the journey to the inland markets.
Come on, Jeannie, she told herself. This is the life you’ve chosen. She stretched out the net again and with her scissors carefully cut off the loose and torn fibres. Then she checked the other knots to make sure they were strong and secure and loaded her flat net needle with hemp. With a clove hitch to catch the top strand of the net she began to work the knots slowly and methodically from left to right, matching them to the original knots so that they were of even size and gradually closing the gaping holes and rents.
She became totally absorbed in her task for over an hour, until Nan opened the back door and handed her a mug of sweetened tea.
‘Best tek a break,’ she said. ‘Rest your legs for a bit.’
Jeannie gratefully took a sip. ‘I’m all right,’ she said. ‘I’m enjoying doing it, although it’s a challenge. It’s an old net and it’s been mended several times before. It’s difficult to see where the original knots are.’
‘Aye, but I’m thinking on ’bairn you’re carrying,’ Nan said. ‘Best sit down an’ rest yoursen.’
Jeannie sat down on the stool which Nan had brought outside. She might have known that it wasn’t her welfare Nan cared about but that of Harry’s child.
‘Hasn’t Mike Gardiner got a wife who can mend nets?’ She sat drinking the tea whilst Nan examined her work.
‘No.’ Nan turned to go back in the house. ‘Dead. He’s a widower.’
Jeannie was curious to know who had mended Mike’s nets previously. Somebody must have worked on them, unless he did them himself as many fishermen did, but she hoped that she wasn’t depriving some other woman of a job. No use asking Nan. She would probably know, but was unlikely to impart any information. I’ll ask him when I see him, she thought.
Which was at the end of the following day, when he knocked on the back gate that Nan had locked ‘just in case’, she had said. Jeannie didn’t know what she meant, because surely no one would come in and steal a net. This was a fishing community and everyone would respect other people’s livelihood.
She smiled on seeing Mike when she unlocked the gate to let him in. ‘Imprisoned, are you?’ he whispered. ‘Nan your jailer?’
‘I don’t know why she locked it,’ she said. ‘Habit perhaps from when Harry was away and she was alone. Ma and I never locked our door.’ She saw him glance towards the net. ‘It’s not quite finished. I’ll have it ready by dinner time tomorrow.’
‘You’re doing a grand job, Jeannie,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘It’s my lucky net. I didn’t want to get rid of it.’
Ah, she thought. So you were trying me out on an old one after all. ‘I was hoping I wasn’t taking another woman’s work,’ she said. ‘Who normally mends your nets? A daughter? Nan told me you are a widower.’
‘No. I’ve two sons. My wife died a few years ago when my boys were young. It was hard bringing them up on my own.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘We – my family in Scarborough, I mean – have a fisherman friend whose wife died. She left him with several children to bring up so it was very hard for him. His eldest daughter was eleven when her mother died and she became the mother to them all, even the baby.’
‘Difficult for her,’ he murmured. ‘No life of her own?’
Jeannie shook her head, and thought of Susan Wharton, a busy housewife with all the eligible young men already spoken for, and then she thought of Ethan and a shadow settled on her.
‘Do you miss everybody?’ he asked quietly. ‘Your family? Your friends?’
Jeannie felt a hard lump in her throat and she swallowed. ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘I do.’
He patted her arm and then looked up as Nan appeared at the scullery door.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said. ‘I wondered who was ’caller.’
‘I was passing,’ Mike said, ‘so thought I’d tek a look at ’young seamstress’s work.’ He smiled at Jeannie. ‘She’s got a good hand.’
‘Aye, she has,’ Nan said grudgingly. ‘What happened to Annie Croft? Has she given up mending?’
‘It’s given her up,’ he said. ‘She’s crippled with rheumatics. Can’t hold a knitting pin let alone a net needle. Don’t know what she’ll do for money.’
‘Same as all of us, I expect.’ Nan’s reply was sour. ‘She’ll have to learn thrift.’
Mike nodded. ‘Yeh. Well, better get going. I’ll send ’lad over tomorrow tea time, shall I?’
‘Yes,’ Jeannie said. ‘It’ll be ready for sure by then.’
She reflected that they hadn’t discussed payment, but he hadn’t forgotten for in the next breath he added, ‘Usual rate? If I give you ’same as I was paying Annie Croft just to start with? You can do all of my nets if you’re able to.’
She beamed at him. At last things were looking up. ‘Thank you. I’ll be glad to.’
After supper, when they were settled with their knitting by the kitchen range, Nan commented, ‘It’s remarkable what a pretty young face can do.’
Jeannie looked up from counting her stitches. ‘What do you mean?’
‘All this time – I didn’t let on I knew, but it’s been weeks since Annie Croft gave up on her mending, and he never once thought of sending any work to me.’
Jeannie didn’t know what to say. In Scarborough word went round if a woman couldn’t work on the nets, and others would fill in for her until she could.
‘Perhaps he didn’t think,’ she said lamely. ‘Or maybe somebody else offered. It was Harry who asked him to consider me,’ she added, knowing that wasn’t strictly true.
‘Hmph,’ Nan muttered. ‘Well, fine chap that he is, he’s a single man.’ She looked at Jeannie from beneath frowning eyebrows. ‘So don’t forget that tongues wag. Mek sure that ’lad allus fetches and carries ’nets for him, especially when Harry’s away.’
Jeannie put her knitting down on her lap and ran her fingers over her forehead; she felt the beginning of a headache. What was it that her mother had said about not being browbeaten by anybody? To stand up for what she believed in. She believed that Mike Gardiner was a sincere friendly man, who had not only helped Harry by taking him on as crew but had also given her the chance to show she could earn a living. She didn’t want to upset Nan or be disrespectful to her, but she felt she should be honest and open with her.
‘I’m sorry, Nan, but I’ll do no such thing,’ she said with a calmness that she didn’t feel. ‘Mr Gardiner has shown me nothing but respect and I’m very grateful for the opportunity to work for him. There’s no reason why anyone should suspect any ulterior motive. I doubt that he’ll bring the nets himself, being such a busy man; but if he should and you�
�re not here, I wouldn’t dream of being anything other than polite.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It’s the way I’ve been brought up and the way I’ll continue. And,’ she added, ‘I’m quite sure that Harry would approve.’
Which was telling Nan, she thought as she gathered up her knitting needles and wool, that she needn’t try to get Harry on her side or give him the impression that Mike Gardiner had his eye on his wife.
‘I’m going to bed,’ she said. ‘It’s been a long day. Good night.’
Jeannie was up first the next morning and had raked the fire and made the tea by the time Nan came down.
‘I’ll do all o’ that of a morning,’ Nan told her. ‘There’s no need for you to do it when you’ve ’nets to work on.’ She got out the dishes for the gruel and took the bread out of the crock. ‘An’ I’ll clear up after. We have to work together.’
It was hardly an apology for her words the night before, but it was a kind of acknowledgement that she had been wrong to utter them.
‘I don’t want to interfere with what you’ve always done,’ Jeannie said. ‘It’s your home, but if there’s something you’d like me to do I hope you’ll ask me. If I can get work on the nets then that’s my contribution, and with Harry’s wages we should be able to manage fairly comfortably.’
‘I hope so.’ Nan took the gruel from the oven. ‘We’re a bit behind wi’ rent but ’landlord’s allus been understanding. Mebbe we can pay off some of ’arrears when Harry gets home.’
This was the first indication she had given that things might be difficult, but then why should she tell me, Jeannie thought. She’s known me less than a week and I’m another mouth to feed so no wonder that she’s grumpy.
Jeannie finished the mending by dinner time and carefully checked it over to make sure she hadn’t missed any rips and that the last row of stitches was secured. Then, on impulse, she opened the back door and called to Nan.
‘Would you just check it over with me?’ she asked. ‘Two pairs of eyes are better than one.’
She could tell that Nan was pleased as she hurriedly wiped her hands on her apron and came scurrying out. ‘Well, my eyes aren’t as sharp as they used to be but I’ll tek a look.’ She peered over the net and examined it with her fingers, and then said, ‘I can’t tell which you’ve done, ’knots match up that well. I reckon he’ll be pleased.’