by Val Wood
‘I’ve been asked,’ he nodded. ‘We all have. I don’t know if Ethan will accept. He says he’s not up to company and he’s a lot of last-minute particulars to see to before January.’
‘You’ll be sure of a feast,’ she said, thinking of the butcher who had married his eldest daughter.
‘Aye,’ he agreed. ‘Robin’s a good chap. Our Susan couldn’t have done better.’ He sat down as invited. ‘What’ll you do? Are Tom and Sarah coming?’
Her face clouded a little. ‘They’ll come over, but Sarah wants to cook dinner in her own home. Understandable, as this is their first Christmas together,’ she said, adding quickly, before he could announce that he would forgo his day with his children to spend it with her, or invite her to join them, ‘I’m going to cook dinner here and take it up to Aggie’s. She’s failing fast. She might not make another Christmas.’
Ever considerate, she always made sure that her mother-in-law had everything she needed, including her company.
‘I wanted to ask you something, Mary,’ he repeated. ‘Though you must say no if you think you can’t do it.’
Josh seemed anxious, and she wondered, not for the first time, if he was totally committed to this new venture of Ethan’s. He wanted to support his son, she knew that, but she questioned privately whether his reasoning for doing so was sound. He was worried about Ethan; that much he had confided in her. Ethan was dissatisfied with his life. Offshore fishing made little money and it seemed that Ethan was determined to establish himself in a bigger way, especially now that he had attracted capital from a Hull businessman.
Ethan had sought her out after his return from Hull and told her he had seen Jeannie. She’d asked him how she fared, and how her grandson was. He’d hesitated for only a second, but that was enough for her to know that not all was well with her daughter even though he had gone on to add ‘Jack’s a fine boy’ and ‘Jeannie was having dinner with relations of her husband’s’, implying that she was surrounded by family. But it hadn’t escaped Mary’s notice that he didn’t mention whether Jeannie looked well and happy.
‘Is it Ethan?’ she asked Josh now. ‘Is he doing the right thing?’
‘Oh, yeh,’ he answered vaguely. ‘The capital’s secure and the ship’s almost ready, or will be by January.’
‘And you feel you have to go with him?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘You used to believe that fathers and sons shouldn’t sail together.’
‘I still do,’ he said glumly. ‘That’s why I won’t let Stephen come on this trip, even though he wants to. And that’s what I want to talk to you about.’
Mary waited patiently whilst Josh took his time to explain what was bothering him.
‘I’m only sailing with Ethan on this first trip to show that I’m behind him in this venture. He seems to think that he’s failed since the paddle steamer project didn’t come off, though why he should think that I don’t know. He’s got his own smack and a half share in another, or he did have until he sold it for this new ship. But it’s not enough; it’s as if he has to prove himself.’
He sat staring at the pan bubbling on the fire. ‘But it’s Stephen I’m bothered about. Ida and Nancy would go to Susan if anything happened to me, but Stephen’ll need a firm hand for a few years yet.’
‘You don’t have to go,’ she said gently. ‘Ethan is well able to manage without you. He’ll have a good crew.’
He looked up at her. ‘I know. But don’t you see, Mary? By going with him I’m telling him that I believe in him, showing him that I’m confident this company he’s forming will go from strength to strength.’
‘Fishing is a hazardous occupation which ever way you look at it,’ Mary said. ‘No matter how much money you put into it you’re still at the mercy of the sea.’
He nodded slowly. ‘That’s why I’m asking you.’ He stood up and caught hold of her floury hands. ‘Mary! If I don’t come back, and I’m as sure as I can be that I will, will you have Stephen?’
Mary caught her breath. Once before she had thought he was going to ask her to marry him, but he hadn’t. Some sixth sense perhaps or maybe something in her manner had told him that she would refuse him; and now she had mistakenly come to the same conclusion. Strangely, she felt a stab of disappointment. He wanted her to watch over his youngest motherless son, the infant she had held in her arms when his mother had died and since then had discreetly watched over as he grew into the rough and tumble of adolescence.
She gave him a warm smile. ‘I will be very angry with you if you don’t come back, Josh,’ she said. ‘But you know that I will always take care of Stephen. He can depend on a home with me.’
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
AN ICY FOG hovered over Hessle Road as Jeannie pushed Jack in the pram towards the Boulevard on Christmas morning. From the estuary came the low haunting shivering moan of ships’ horns as vessels sent greetings to one another. Church bells rang out and people hurrying towards church or chapel, friends or relatives, greeted others as they passed.
‘Good morning. G’morning. Season’s greetings. All ’best.’
Jeannie responded to each passing stranger with a forced smile or a nod and a mouthed, inaudible ‘Thank you, same to you’.
She did not feel full of seasonal cheer and it had taken a great deal of effort to get herself and Jack ready to come out. She had looked in on Mrs Herbert who was sitting in front of her fire, not knitting, not sewing, not reading, but merely contemplating the flames.
‘Will you be cooking dinner today, Mrs Herbert?’ Jeannie had shouted, for the old lady’s deafness was getting worse.
‘No, dear,’ she replied. ‘I’ve got a drop of stew left from yesterday. There’s enough for me. I don’t eat much.’
To see her sitting alone on Christmas Day had depressed Jeannie. Yet her landlady had responded with a positive smile as if she were content with her lot. I suppose she’s used to being alone; having a roof over her head and sufficient food she’ll consider to be luxuries, Jeannie thought.
But the overwhelming lowness of spirit, the fear even, which gripped her was that it might one day be her sitting alone on a Christmas morning, and the reason for that fear was that Harry had hammered on her door the night before, demanding to be let in.
He wasn’t drunk – she could perhaps have forgiven him if he had been – but he had been drinking and he berated her when she refused his advances.
‘There’ll be no money for you if you don’t,’ he’d slurred, bending his face towards her.
‘And if I get pregnant again, what then?’ she rebutted, backing away from his beery breath. ‘Will you run to Connie like last time?’
He’d shaken a fist at her. ‘Don’t you talk about Connie,’ he bellowed. ‘She’s my friend. Allus has been.’
He’d thrown a few coins on the table and walked out of the door, leaving her shaking and afraid for her future.
As she walked towards the Greenwoods’ house now, she chastised herself for her ineptitude and spinelessness, telling herself that she could survive without him; that in fact she would have to survive without him and that she was very lucky to have kinder people around her. Dot had admonished her a few days before for not taking Jack home in the pram. ‘For heaven’s sake, girl. Am I such an ogre?’ she’d said. ‘I’d hardly keep it in ’hall as an ornament, now would I?’
Jeannie had been ashamed of herself for the misunderstanding. It was such a generous gift that she had felt she shouldn’t take advantage; now she realized that Dot was bighearted to her very core.
Jack’s bright eyes looked out at her from beneath the pram hood, and his likeness to Harry struck her so forcibly that she wanted to weep. His eyes were now as brown as his father’s; his hair was dark like hers and Harry’s. He clapped his hands as they reached Dot and Sam’s house, and Minnie opened the door and ran down the steps to help Jeannie with the pram.
‘Has anybody else arrived yet, Minnie?’ Jeannie asked.
‘Onny Billy Norman,’ Minnie said,
bending to tickle Jack under his chin. ‘I don’t know who else is coming apart from Mr Greenwood’s sister. We’ve enough food for an army so it doesn’t matter who comes, cos there’ll still be enough food for ’rest of ’week and into ’next decade, which Mr Greenwood is discussing this very ’minute.’
Billy shot out of the house and down the steps; he’d seen Jeannie and Minnie from the window as they struggled to lift the pram.
‘Here,’ he told Jeannie. ‘You carry ’bairn and I’ll fetch ’pram in. They could do wi’ a ramp. I could mek one if Mrs Greenwood wants me to.’
‘You’re a marvel, Billy,’ Jeannie murmured as she lifted Jack out from beneath his blankets and felt around for the cloutie dumpling, which she’d wrapped carefully in a clean cloth and placed at the bottom of the pram, well away from Jack’s kicking feet. ‘But Dot – Mrs Greenwood – might not want one on her front steps.’
‘She’s tekking care of ’bairn, isn’t she?’ he responded. ‘That’s what Rosie said, so she won’t be bothered. But Sam might be, o’ course. Lets ’tone down, you know!’
Jeannie smiled; a genuine smile this time. Billy was such an amazing tonic. She hoped that Rosie appreciated what a treasure he was.
Sam Greenwood was pouring sherry as she went into the large sitting room overlooking the street.
‘Only a small one, please,’ Jeannie said. She had never tasted sherry before and didn’t know if she would like it. ‘Is Rosie about?’ she asked, for neither Rosie nor Dot was there to greet her. She unwrapped Jack from his blankets and shawls and placed him on the floor, where he sat gazing solemnly up at Sam and Billy.
‘They’re in ’kitchen basting ’goose. Been in and out all morning checking on it and draining off ’fat. Smells good,’ he added.
The Greenwoods didn’t have a cook. Dot liked to think she cooked her own food, but in fact it was the maid of all work Minnie who prepared the dishes ready for Dot to add the finishing touches to and put in the oven. Minnie also cleaned the house and washed the linen, but she seemed happy enough in her work and was paid well. She had her own room at the top of the house, and today because it was Christmas she would eat with the family after helping to serve.
Rosie came in; she looked very pretty, plump and rosy-cheeked from the oven’s heat, Jeannie thought.
‘The dumpling needs some more cooking.’ Jeannie handed the wrapped pudding over. ‘Just to warm it through. I hope it’s all right,’ she added shyly. ‘It’s the first time I’ve made one.’
Rosie sniffed at it. ‘Smells lovely,’ she said. ‘Do you want to come through to ’kitchen?’ She lifted her eyebrows and gave a vague lift of her head towards the door, indicating that Jeannie should follow her.
Jeannie put down her sherry glass and picked Jack up. She smiled at Billy and Sam, saying that she wouldn’t be long, and was surprised to see Billy give her a furtive wink.
‘What?’ she whispered to Rosie out in the wide hall. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, I hope, but Billy’s going to tell Uncle Sam that he wants to mek an announcement.’
‘About what?’ It was clear to Jeannie that Rosie was excited about something, and whatever it was it was that and not the heat of the oven that was giving her the pretty flush on her cheeks.
Rosie pressed her fingers to her mouth. ‘Billy’s asked me to marry him! And I said yes! He’s going to tell Sam and announce it at dinner time.’
Jeannie was thrilled for her, but felt a sudden rush of emotion; she swallowed down tears and said in a choked voice, ‘I’m really happy for you, Rosie. Billy is so nice – and reliable. He’ll never let you down.’
Rosie nodded. ‘Not like somebody else that we won’t name, eh?’ She touched Jeannie’s arm and said, ‘If it hadn’t been for you, I might not have come to my senses about Billy.’
Jeannie thought how very different Rosie seemed from when she had first met her, though she conceded that maybe it wasn’t Rosie who was different but the circumstances. They had both been influenced by other people, Rosie by Nan’s attitude and Jeannie by Connie’s fabrication and lies about Rosie.
The doorbell rang as they were about to go into the kitchen. Rosie opened the door to a large lady warmly dressed in a coat with a fur collar and a large hat with fluttering feathers.
‘Let me in then,’ she snapped. ‘It’s cold out here.’
‘You’re well wrapped up.’ Rosie opened the door wider, letting in a blast of freezing air. ‘Nice coat. This is Jeannie, Harry’s wife,’ she said. ‘This is Mrs Welburn, Jeannie, Uncle Sam’s sister. She comes every Christmas Day.’ She turned her head towards Jeannie so that Mrs Welburn couldn’t see her face and cast up her eyes towards the ceiling as if looking for solace.
‘I’d come more often if I was invited,’ Mrs Welburn said, barely glancing at Jeannie as she shed her coat. ‘Where’s ’maid? Has she been given ’day off?’
Dot appeared to rescue them. ‘No, she’s in ’kitchen and she didn’t want ’day off,’ she answered her sister-in-law. ‘She’d rather stop with us. Give us your coat, Bessie. Is it new? I’ll hang it up. Hello, Jeannie love. Merry Christmas. And how’s this fine boy today?’
Jack gave Dot a big smile and put his arms out to her; she took him and Jeannie felt suddenly bereft.
They all trooped back into the sitting room where Sam poured more sherry; Billy stood with his back to the fire and a tankard of ale in his hand, and moved over so that Sam’s sister could sit nearest the blaze while she delicately pursed her lips and took a sip of sherry. When Jeannie glanced at him, he gave a little nod, and couldn’t hold back a grin.
Mike Gardiner called in on his way to his son’s house to wish everybody greetings for the festive season. He said, ‘How do, Bessie,’ to Mrs Welburn and she gave him a frosty smile in answer.
At two o’ clock they were seated at table waiting for the meal to be served. They were in a dining room with red flocked wallpaper, dark mahogany furniture, heavy curtains and a blazing coal fire. In one corner stood a Christmas tree with flickering candles. Jack crowed at it and clapped his hands as he sat in a wooden high chair that Dot had acquired from somebody she knew who had no further need of it.
It was incredible, Jeannie thought, how many people Dot knew who were about to get rid of something they didn’t want any more that was just what Dot was looking for. The reason, she surmised, was that Dot, in spite of coming up in the world through Sam’s endeavours, had kept her feet on the ground and stayed in touch with nearly all the people she had ever known.
‘You are the only people I know who eat dinner so early,’ Bessie commented sourly. ‘Personally I never eat before seven.’
‘We get hungry,’ Dot said placidly, ‘and it’s ’way we all were brought up, in case you’ve forgotten, Bessie. Dinner was allus at dinner time, midday. We’re late today cos it’s Christmas. Pour everybody a glass of wine, Sam, and I’ll give Minnie a hand to dish up. Rosie, come and help me.’
Sam’s sister gave a rebuking sniff at another dereliction of what was right and proper and the casualness of the domestic situation. She almost fainted when Dot mentioned that Minnie would be eating with them.
‘I cannot understand your wife,’ she told Sam when Dot and Rosie had left the room. ‘She has no sense of propriety or moral duty. The servant will abuse her position if she doesn’t know her place.’ She shuddered. ‘And as for eating at ’same table!’
‘She’s been with us for six years, Bessie, and is ’daughter of one of Dot’s best friends from ’old days,’ Sam said mildly. ‘We know who she is and she knows who we are and what we were. There’s no reason for her to eat alone in ’kitchen when there’s room at our table.’
Jeannie’s opinion of Sam changed dramatically. She had thought him an overbearing man who had done well for himself and forgotten his roots, unlike his wife. Clearly she was wrong. I’ve been wrong about so many things, she thought as she waited and looked and listened and tried to keep Jack entertained, for he objected to
being fastened in a chair when there were so many exciting things to explore.
‘So where’s Harry?’ Bessie turned to Jeannie. ‘He’s never away on a trip at Christmas!’
‘No,’ Jeannie answered quietly. ‘I don’t know where he is, to be honest.’
Bessie hmphed. ‘In some pub, I expect. That’s where most of ’fishermen can be found.’
‘Not all of ’em, Mrs Welburn,’ Billy broke in, and found himself the object of hostile scrutiny. ‘Most of ’em like to be at their own fireside.’
Jeannie became aware that Sam was looking at her, and when she met his eyes she thought she saw sympathy there before he transferred his gaze to his sister.
‘Harry’s not here cos he prefers to be somewhere else, Bessie,’ he murmured. ‘You’ll understand that more’n anybody. So we’ll say no more on ’subject.’
Bessie’s face flooded bright red and to cover her embarrassment she reached for a handkerchief and made a pretence of blowing her nose. Jeannie was astonished by the progression of meddlesome question to swift expressive answer, but the moment was over, done and finished with as Dot and Rosie, followed by Minnie, processed into the room laden with trays and dishes and an enormous platter holding a massive golden goose stuffed with sage and plum.
Sam carved at the table whilst Dot and Rosie put out dishes of crisp roast potatoes, buttered turnips, sprouts, parsnips, red cabbage and creamed leeks, and Minnie dashed back to the kitchen to bring in the plum sauce and onion gravy.
Jeannie had never in her life seen so much food served at one time, and Jack banged the tray of his chair with a spoon in his eagerness to try it.
‘Here, give him a parsnip to chew on.’ Dot deftly forked a sliver of parsnip to hand to Jeannie, who gave it to Jack to suck on.