by Mary Mackie
Bella squinted up at Lily. ‘She’s the lady with funny eyes.’
For the briefest moment, Jess and Lily exchanged a look of empathy, then Lily bent to be on a level with the child, who stared warily at her. ‘You’re right, Bella – I have odd eyes. One blue and one brown – see?’ Only the faintest tremor in her voice gave her away. ‘Do you know why that is, Bella?’ With a conspiratorial air, she glanced about as if to discover if anyone was listening. No one was; the strollers on the sea walk were all intent about their own amusements. From the fair the robust, jangling rhythm of a barrel organ accompanied the movement of a roundabout, and the thin music of a street piper wove a silver thread through the gaiety.
‘Shall I tell you a secret?’ Lily asked in her special story-telling voice. ‘Can you keep a secret?’
Bella, still frowning, unwillingly intrigued, nodded her coppery head.
‘I have eyes like this,’ Lily said, ‘because I’m really a mermaid. A mermaid princess, from a kingdom under the sea.’ Her gesture embraced the green expanse of the Wash, rippled by wind-whipped waves. ‘And when we take human shape, we are doomed to show some sign of our true nature. Some of us have odd eyes. Some have scales on their hands and feet. Some… some of us have red hair,’ and she lifted a lock of Bella’s silky hair, ‘red hair that looks green in moonlight – like seaweed.’
Dashing her hand away, Bella said, ‘It doesn’t! I’m not a mermaid!’
‘Then you’re very lucky,’ said Lily gravely. ‘Think how lonely it must be, to be different from everyone else. To be exiled from your own people and doomed to a world of mortals who don’t like you because you’re different. No one wants to be a mermaid’s friend. A mermaid is always lonely, and often unhappy.’
Bella peered at her, thinking about it. Young as she was, she understood loneliness and unhappiness. ‘Are you really a mermaid?’
Holding the child with her strange, mismatched eyes, Lily said quietly – as if she believed it – ‘I really am.’
‘Then why don’t you go back into the sea?’
‘I can’t,’ Lily sighed. ‘I’m under a gypsy curse. I have to remain on dry land until I find someone who will love me and be my friend in spite of my funny eyes.’
Very slowly, Bella reached out a sandy hand and touched Lily’s glowing cheek. ‘I’ll be your friend.’
‘Will you?’ Emotion made Lily’s voice husky as she took the small hand between her own. ‘Thank you, Bella.’ She straightened to look at Jess with glittering eyes. ‘Then that’s two friends I have.’
‘Can you go back to the sea now?’ Bella wanted to know.
‘Oh—’ Laughing, Lily shook her head and dashed away her tears. ‘No, not yet. You have to be my friend for… oh, at least a year. You have to prove you’re my friend. And I must be your friend, too. Then – who knows? – I may not want to go back to the cold green sea.’
Taking Bella’s leaping pole in one hand, she offered the child her other and the three of them moved off towards the pier. Jess glanced back again at the beach, but she couldn’t see the butcher’s nephew, or anyone else she recognised.
‘Let’s go and take a look at the fair!’ Lily suggested after they had shared a picnic lunch, but the two older ladies demurred, pleading their age as excuse.
‘But you go, my dear,’ Miss Peartree suggested. ‘You and Jess. You won’t mind that, will you, Nanny?’
‘I want to go,’ Bella announced, rousing herself. She had been almost asleep, wrapped in a blanket and leaning on Nanny’s ample lap.
‘It’s time for your rest, Miss Bella,’ Nanny said.
‘But I want to go to the fair, Nanny. You said I could.’
‘Now, Miss Bella…’
The child was tired and her temper turned to tears.
‘I’ll stay with her,’ Jess offered, not sorry for an excuse to stay hiding on the pier; folk from Fisher’s End were unlikely to stray there, because of the extra pennies it cost.
‘Oh, gracious goodness!’ Lily exclaimed. ‘Nanny Fyncham, it’s you who need a rest, not Bella. We don’t mind taking her with us, do we, Jess? Let her come, if she wants to. But you must be very good, Bella. You must hold our hands tightly. Will you promise to do that?’
Bella’s tears dried miraculously as she nodded.
Between Nanny and Miss Peartree there passed a covert look which puzzled Jess. Was it satisfaction that oozed between the two plump ladies?
In the afternoon sunlight the fair was in full cry. Vendors called their wares, waved frying pans and argued with each other to attract a crowd. Some wound garlands of unbaked toffee on hooks, above stalls piled with fair rock, candy, liquorice and butter fudge. It reminded Jess of the great February Mart in Lynn.
Lily bought some ribbons and lace, and some jaw-breaking toffee, and glasses of fizzy lemonade which gave Bella the hiccups; but that didn’t prevent her from joining Lily on a roundabout with bicycles where you could sit and pedal, propelled round and round by a steam engine while a barrel organ played. Jess stood and watched, holding on to her straw hat and keeping covert watch on the people around her. She did see faces she knew, but they belonged to the present, not the past – people from Hewing and Syderford, others who went to chapel at Martham. She half expected to see Reuben Rudd, but if he was at the fair their ways didn’t meet. Eliza Potts was there, though, with her brother Jim, among a laughing group of young men and women egging each other on to have a go on the roundabout.
Lily seemed determined to force as much enjoyment from the day as possible. She had something on her mind, Jess guessed. She had them marching along the clifftop in the wind, then down to the beach looking for shells and pretty stones among the rock pools. But the child was growing ever more tired and Jess was concerned: Miss Bella had a delicate constitution; she needed her rest.
‘I think we ought—’ she had started to say when a ball came whizzing between her and Lily, from a group playing cricket under the hang of the colourful cliff. A young man came after the ball, shouting with laughter, diving headlong to land at Lily’s feet, while his companions cheered.
Jess had instinctively drawn Bella aside as the man sprawled in the sand beside them. His cap fell off, revealing an unruly, ill-kempt crop of brown hair – the sort of hair that took no notice of brush or comb. Like Matty’s hair, Jess thought. His loud laugh reminded her of her brother, too. All in the same instant she took in his broad shoulders, his long legs, his strong body clad in an ill-fitting suit, and another burst of intemperate laughter as he righted himself and sat up, grinning at the startled Lily.
It was Matty.
Jess’s ears seemed to go deaf, with a weird singing in them, as if a cloud had dropped round her, shutting her off from the rest of the world. Matty…
She found herself backing away, taking Bella with her, hunching her shoulders and trying her best to hide her face as Matty scrambled to his feet. Luckily he was so entranced by the sight of Lily that he turned his back on Jess. He stood like a fool, brushing sand off his suit and vainly trying to straighten that wild mop of hair. His ears and the back of his neck were slowly turning scarlet.
‘And what,’ Lily demanded, at her haughty, frosty best, ‘are you staring at, you silly jackanapes?’
Behind him, his companions were starting to call to him, wanting to go on with their game. Among them were several of Jess’s own friends.
Feeling ever more faint and sick, still trapped in her cocoon of shock, Jess moved further away, turning her shoulder, trying to watch what was happening and still keep her face averted. But the cricket players all had their eyes on Matty and Lily, ignoring the insignificant nurserymaid with her small charge.
‘Well?’ Lily demanded, a blaze of colour flaring on her cheeks.
Matty made some reply, but he spoke so low that Jess couldn’t hear what he said. She only saw Lily’s face contort with fury. She threw the shells she was carrying right into Matty’s face, but though he flinched aside and flung a hand to his chee
k he immediately straightened himself, saying, ‘That’s wholly the truth,’ as Lily spun on her heel and ran away.
Unable to help herself, Jess stood and watched as her brother stared after the fleeing girl in blue; then he bent and swept up his cap, fitting it back on to his head as he turned back to where his companions were calling and laughing. Not once did he look in Jess’s direction. It was what she wanted. Of course it was! But her heart wept lonely tears. Nobody must find her. Not even Matty.
She found Lily waiting near the entry to the pier, still fuming over the incident. ‘That… that scoundrel! How dare he? He said I was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen!’
Matty had said that? It didn’t sound like him at all. ‘Well, Miss Lily, that en’t to be wondered at. You are a wholly beautiful—’
‘I’m not! I know I’m not – I see that every time I look into a mirror. Besides… A man like that?’ Lily shuddered. ‘How dare he even speak to me?’
As she made for the pier entrance, Jess looked back, longingly and regretfully, to where her friends from Fisher’s End were enjoying their game of cricket. By rights she should have been with them. By rights… but she no longer had any rights. On a cold December night, full of fire and hatred, she’d drowned her rights in the Alexandra Dock. Along with Nathanael Merrywest.
* * *
Abbot had promised to return at four o’clock to take them home and, sure enough, here came the big yellow hood. Jess was both glad and sorry to see it. She’d spent the last hour or so torn in two, wanting to see her brother but hiding instead on the pier.
‘We must go, too,’ Miss Peartree said. ‘I told Fargus to be outside the Golden Lion by four thirty.’
But Lily cried, ‘Oh, not yet, Cousin Oriana. Not yet!’
‘But I’m tired,’ the old woman complained. ‘And my back is aching. Lily Victoria, I am not as young as I once was. We must go home. You cannot remain unchaperoned.’
‘But Jess could stay with me. Couldn’t she, Nanny Fyncham? It is a holiday. Please say she may stay. Oh, dear Cousin Oriana – couldn’t you send Fargus back for us later?’
‘I ought to go with Miss Bella,’ Jess said, casting a look along the beach where the cricketers were beginning to disperse.
‘Oh, but—’
‘You’re right, Miss Clare,’ Nanny said. ‘It’s a holiday, after all. You’re entitled to an evening off, Jessamy. Yes, you stay and take care of Miss Clare. I’ll see to Miss Bella myself tonight.’
And so Lily had her way.
Linking arms with Jess, she bore her back up to the green to buy home-made rock, and plates of cockles and winkles with brown bread and butter, and cups of hot, sweet tea. The group from Hewing, including Eliza and her brother, were at the coconut shy. Seeing Jess, Jim Potts tipped his hat at her and called out, ‘I’ll win a coconut for you. Watch and see.’
The comment made another man nearby turn his head to look at her. Jess found herself staring into the disbelieving eyes of her brother’s best mate – big, redheaded, slow-thinking Tom Fysher. Then the crowds between them closed, hiding her from his sight. She hurried Lily on, keeping her head down, praying that Tom Fysher would persuade himself he was mistaken. Knowing how slowly his brain worked, she hoped he wouldn’t even think to mention it to Matty until later. Much later.
She increased her pace, taking Lily with her, putting more space and several stalls between her and the coconut shy. Oh, why had she stayed? They’d agreed to meet Fargus at the Golden Lion at seven, but he’d keep drinking in the public bar until Lily sent for him and Lily seemed to be in no hurry to leave.
‘How do you know Jim Potts?’ Lily wanted to know.
‘I’ve seen him at chapel, ’times.’
Lily’s brow knotted. ‘He’s not the sort of friend you ought to make, Jess. You can’t trust a Potts. Cousin Oriana told me how Eliza contrived to get rid of poor Dolly. Oh… I hate Eliza Potts. And she hates me. Yesterday… yesterday she was unfastening my stays and she pinched me. I shall be bruised for weeks.’
‘I don’t suppose she meant to—’ Jess began.
‘Of course she did! Oh, don’t you start defending her, Jess. You know what she’s like. Not only did she pinch me, but she then managed to get the brush entangled in my hair and when I complained she…’ she swung round, thrusting out her hand, ‘she did this at me!’
Jess felt cold as she saw the shape Lily’s hand was making: Devil’s horns, the sign stupid, superstitious, ignorant folk used against the evil eye, to ward off spells.
‘She’s always doing it!’ Lily cried. ‘What does it mean?’
‘That mean she’re an ignorant fool. What did you do?’
‘Oh, nothing. What was the point? Anyway, I was too upset about…’ Glancing at the crowds around them, she went on, ‘I can’t tell you here. Let’s find somewhere more private.’
They made their way back to the shore and along the sea walk. Jess felt safer there, with fewer people about. The tide was coming in, the breeze turning chill as the light waned. The sun dipped over the far side of the Wash in a welter of gold-edged clouds and patient horses plodded up the sand hauling the bathing machines in for the night.
After a while, Lily turned suddenly to Jess, saying, ‘What am I to do, Jess? I’ve been trying not to believe it, but… Papa intends me for Mr Dunnock.’
‘Oh, now—’ Such a possibility was unthinkable.
‘I know he does! But I shan’t do it. I can’t, Jess. I’d run mad, tied to that sad little man. And his mother…’ The thought made her shiver and turn away, her arms wrapped about herself. ‘My life is tainted, Jess. Blighted. I must resign myself to being a teacher. Or a governess – one of those grey, sad women who belong nowhere.’
Jess caught her breath, saying fiercely, ‘That’ll never be you, Miss Lily. Never!’
Her vehemence made Lily give her an odd look. ‘You really believe that, don’t you? You feel everything will come right for me?’
‘I know it.’
For a moment Lily regarded her in utter silence, her strange eyes still. Then, springing to her feet, she hurried away, heading back towards the pier and the esplanade under the cliff, with Jess following.
Climbing the wooden stair that led up to the cliff top, they walked on, making for the lighthouse half a mile away. Jess cast a worried look behind her, at the fair where flares were being lit as twilight gathered. Was Tom Fysher still there? ‘We ought to go, Miss Lily. You said we’d meet Fargus at seven.’
‘Fargus won’t care. All the more time for drinking ale in the Golden Lion.’ She paused to take Jess’s arm again and lead her on. ‘Let’s just walk for a little while. I don’t want to go home yet.’
They walked on, slowly. As dusk gathered, the lighthouse blinked its bright light out across the Wash, answering the flash of the Lynn Well lightship. A little way from shore, the dangerous ‘Roaring Middle’ sandbank was illumined by a red glare thrown from the light through strips of ruby glass. Jess remembered the fishermen talking about it.
‘We ought to go back,’ she said, anxious to be away.
Lily sighed heavily. ‘I suppose you’re right.’
The market stalls were islands of light against a dark backdrop of houses and hotels. Naphtha flares leapt against darkness, sending shadows dancing on canvas, illuminating laughing faces. Smoke wove its acrid embroidery, while over the sea a great yellow moon rose and hung, whitening and brightening, in the cloud-scudded sky.
‘It’s almost barbaric, isn’t it?’ Lily said. ‘Like something from the mystical east. Snake charmers and sword swallowers… Oh, if only we could be swept away on a magic carpet.’ Moving away, she stood staring longingly out at the sea, where the moon laid a silver pathway across the swell. ‘Or just simply float off with the tide…’
The night was so clear Jess could see lights on the farther shore of the Wash, and in the middle distance the red lantern of a fishing vessel rode homeward with the tide. Homeward – making for the Fisher Fleet. Wel
l, at least she knew Matty wasn’t out with the boats today.
Very softly, Lily recited:
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made:
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade…
She let the words drift off as she watched the sea in silence for a moment, then whispered, ‘It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? Just to walk out into the water and keep going. Let it take you up in its arms and sweep you into its depths. Where it’s all calm, and quiet. Where there’s no more noise and strife. Where—’
‘Where the crabs eat your eyes and you rot slowly, food for fishes,’ Jess put in flatly.
‘Jess!’ Lily objected.
‘Well, it’s so. I’m sorry, Miss Lily, but you shouldn’t talk that way. Drownin’ en’t a fairytale.’ She stared at the sea, hearing the shush of waves against sandy shingle. ‘My dad drowned. He’s still out there somewhere.’
Lily was silent for a long time. She said at last, ‘I didn’t know. What happened? Couldn’t he swim?’
‘He wouldn’t never learn. Most fishermen don’t. If they’re a-goin’ to drown they want it over quick.’
‘Your father was a fisherman? You’ve never told me that before.’
‘There’s lots I hen’t told you, Miss Lily. But I know that don’t do to mock the sea.’
‘I wasn’t mocking,’ Lily denied. ‘I was just thinking what a peaceful, romantic death it would make.’
‘Death en’t never romantic,’ Jess said sharply. ‘Death’s cold and cruel. And final. Once you’re dead, you’re dead. You don’t never come back.’ A shiver ran through her, a chill more of the soul than the physical self. She didn’t understand Lily’s fascination for tragedy and sorrow, but it was always there, like a shadow in the background. ‘Can we go now, please? If we don’t go soon, Fargus’ll get so bosky he’ll have us in the nearest ditch.’
‘Go and fetch him. Have him bring the carriage over here. I want to stay and watch the sea a few minutes longer.’