A Safe Harbour (2 page)
Authors: Benita Brown
Tags: #Technology & Engineering, #Sagas, #Fisheries & Aquaculture, #Fiction
‘You know fine well, Kate. It’s not Jos your father hates, it’s the whole family.’
‘But that’s worse! And for such a stupid reason.’
‘To be fair to him yer da isn’t the only one to frown on interlopers. They’re country people – not fisherfolk – and they come and take our living from us.’
‘There’s a difference between frowning and hating,’ Kate said, ‘and the Lintons came here before Jos was born.’
Her mother sighed. ‘Memories are long. And at least yer da hasn’t forbidden the marriage. He could hev done, you know.’
‘He’s glad to be rid of me. He said so. He said I was a thorn in his side.’
‘And isn’t that true?’
Kate looked at her mother in surprise and saw that Nan was smiling. ‘Yes, I suppose it is. It will be easier for you when I’ve gone, won’t it? There won’t be so much cause for him to lose his temper.’
Their smiles had faded and they had looked at each other solemnly, each woman remembering what Henry Lawson was like when the drink or his temper took him. Nan had put her arms round her daughter. They’d stood there without speaking, watched only by the faded eyes of old Sarah – who might have heard everything, or nothing. As ever, her wizened face had given no clue.
And now, one week before the wedding to her childhood sweetheart, Kate found that she was near to tears as she remembered that moment of closeness with her mother. Her vision was blurred as she took in the scrubbed table, the brown teapot reflecting the light of the fire on its rounded sides, the window beyond, whose small panes always sparkled even though this meant daily washing inside and out because of the salt air.
Nan Lawson was house-proud and fastidious. Mary Linton was careless and easygoing. Jos’s father, James, was even tempered and tolerant. There were those who said he might have taken a firmer line with his two high-spirited sons, but the Lintons worked hard and respected one another. Kate knew that it was a very different household she would be entering as Jos’s bride, but she also knew that she would be happy there. She would no longer have to live in fear of her father’s unpredictable moods, his outbursts of rage and his drunken violence.
When she and her brothers had been children their father’s favoured method of disciplining them had been to take off his belt and beat them. Nan had suffered beatings too, and they had only stopped when William had grown big enough to protect his mother and his younger brother and sister. Now, although William’s presence kept a rein on Henry’s worst excesses, Henry was still master here and the whole family lived under the shadow of his tyrannical authority.
‘Kate!’
Kate blinked at the sound of her name and glanced towards the open door. A man’s figure was framed in the doorway, a familiar silhouette against the afternoon light. Her spirits lightened. ‘Jos . . . is that you?’
‘Kate . . . you’ve got to come . . .’ The voice cracked and Kate’s smile vanished. She felt the first stirrings of alarm.
Not Jos, she saw as the figure moved forward falteringly. It was his younger brother Matthew, who had the same sturdy frame but was not so tall.
‘Come? Where?’ she whispered, with a nod towards the old lady sleeping on the bed against the wall.
Matthew glanced at the old woman distractedly. He had stopped on the other side of the table and he stared at Kate wildly. Her alarm turned to dread when she saw his clenched fists. She took a step towards him and found herself grasping the back of a chair. ‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘What’s happened?’
‘It’s Jos. He’s not come back.’
‘Yes he has. I saw him. I spoke to him. We’re meeting later on the boat field.’
‘No, Kate, he’s missing. Him and Barty Lisle.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Kate stared at her sweetheart’s younger brother. The ticking of the clock on the mantel suddenly seemed louder as it consigned to the past the last few seconds when anything would make sense. ‘They came back from the fishing hours ago.’
‘I know. But they went out again. Two little lads playing on the beach saw them. They took Jos’s boat – just Jos and Barty. The bairns saw them head for the harbour mouth and then they just sat there.’
‘They must have dropped anchor,’ Kate said.
‘Aye, that’s likely.’
‘But why – what were they doing?’ Kate asked.
Matthew shook his head. ‘Who knows? The next time the bairns looked out, the tide was high and the coble was nowhere to be seen.’ He came round the table and took her by the arm. ‘Ma’s down on the beach waiting. Please come.’
Kate was still trying to make sense of what she’d heard, but she let go of the chair and allowed Matthew to guide her out of the cottage and along the lane towards the harbour. She was aware that others were following; she heard her mother’s voice among those of the other women, and the footsteps ringing out on the cobbles as they began to hurry.
Damn this skirt, she thought, as she tried to keep up with Matthew. Losing patience she wrenched herself free from his grasp and, stooping swiftly to grab hold of the folds of the deep-tucked hemline, she yanked it up above her knees. With her long slender legs freed from restraint she was able to keep pace easily.
Her heart was pounding, more from fear than exertion, as they ran down the slope from Bank Top to the beach. At the bottom, Kate almost fell as her feet sank into the soft sand still damp from the retreating high tide. She gasped, and cried out involuntarily. Matthew turned and steadied her.
She was aware of others gathering as the word spread that two men were missing, but Matthew was guiding her towards the figure of a woman silhouetted starkly against the grey of the sea and the sky. Mary Linton, Jos’s mother, had drawn her shawl around her and was standing with arms crossed tightly across her body as if holding in her grief. The waves were lapping round her feet but she didn’t seem to have noticed. As they approached, Kate could hear her ragged moans of distress.
‘Stay with her,’ Matthew said quietly. ‘I’ll hev to help Da with the search.’
‘Aye, you go, Matthew,’ Kate said. He turned and retreated up the beach to make his way to the high water moorings.
Mary Linton didn’t turn her head when Kate gently placed her hand on her shoulder. ‘Me bairn . . . me bairn,’ the older woman moaned. ‘Lord God give us back me bairn.’ At those words Kate was seized with dread.
Jos was only a year older than Kate and their childhood friendship had grown into sweet first love. But it was a love which they had believed would endure for a life time. This couldn’t be happening. Please God don’t let Jos be taken from me, she cried inwardly.
Kate was aware of the water sucking and gurgling round her feet and she put her arms round Mary Linton’s waist and drew her back slightly until they both stood on firmer ground. She scanned the sea, looking beyond the breakwaters to the horizon. She tried desperately to imagine some good reason why Jos and Barty would stay out for so long.
Earlier that day, after the beach auction of the fish, Jos had called by her parents’ cottage and asked her to meet him on the boat field that evening so that they could discuss their wedding plans. The Lintons had prospered; they lived in one of the few two-storeyed cottages in the village, another reason why Kate’s father hated them, and Jos and Kate were to be given a room of their own. A tiny room under the sloping eaves of the roof, but nevertheless they would sleep there alone together and not have to share a room with other members of the family as most of the villagers did.
Never allowed to cross the threshold of the Lawsons’ cottage, Jos had taken her hand and pulled her along the lane. Seeing that they were alone he’d gathered her into his arms and swung her round until they were both dizzy and, not even giving her a chance to catch her breath, he had kissed her until her senses were racing as fast as the clouds high in the sky above them.
‘Not long, now, sweetheart,’ he’d murmured into the soft skin of her neck, ‘not long, now, before we can be together every single night. Soon we’ll be man and wife. Then I can make love to you in a nice warm bed instead of—’
‘Whisht, Jos, whisht!’ Kate had covered his mouth with the fingers of one hand and looked around. But there was no one to hear his words except a stray cat stretched out on the sun-warmed cobbles and a lone herring gull perched on the roof of a nearby cottage.
‘Divven’t fret, lass,’ Jos had said and he’d prised her fingers away from his lips and, turning her hand, he’d kissed her palm. The faint rasp of his stubble had made her shiver with pleasure. ‘Divven’t fret,’ he’d said again. ‘We’ve done no wrong.’
Then Jos had told her that he was going to take Barty to the Queen’s Head and treat him to a pint of ale, or mebbes two – Jos had laughed at Kate’s frown – while he made sure the lad understood what his duties as best man entailed. He’d said nothing about taking his boat out again.
The evening air had cooled and there was a breeze skimming the foam from the tops of the waves. Kate hadn’t had time to snatch up her shawl and she began to feel cold. She could hear the subdued voices of some of the women who had gathered on the beach behind them. They were no strangers to grief and they knew it would be best to leave Kate and Mary alone to support each other.
Matthew and some of the men had already launched their cobles and started the search. Perhaps the lads were in trouble of some kind beyond the harbour mouth. Whatever they were up to they would never have sailed willingly out of sight of the shore. Kate hoped and prayed that Jos’s coble, the
Sea Quest
, would soon be found and that Jos and Barty would be in it, safe and well. But with every second that passed the knot of fear tightened inside her.
Sea Quest
, would soon be found and that Jos and Barty would be in it, safe and well. But with every second that passed the knot of fear tightened inside her.
Other men had come running down from Bank Top and Kate watched as the crews, three men to each coble, manhandled the vessels on to wheeled axles and then pulled them over the soft sand into the water. Few words were spoken. They all knew what to do. Some had brought coals and kindling to light the fire-pans in the boats. The light from these braziers would be needed in the growing darkness.
There wasn’t the slightest hint of disaster in the air, Kate thought. As the day faded the voices behind her died and the only sounds to be heard were the creaking and splashing of the oars as the cobles manoeuvred in the small harbour. Within the shelter of the breakwaters the sea was calm. Gently curling waves flopped innocently on to the shingle. But death was present; Kate sensed it in her bones.
Mrs Linton paid no heed to the activity on the beach or in the harbour. She pressed her bowed head into her hands as if to catch her sobs. Kate put an arm round her shoulders. She looked down at the thick, greying hair coiled neatly into a bun at the nape of her neck. The skin that showed above the high collar was weather-beaten and wrinkled. Mary Linton was only forty-two years old.
Mary was shivering. ‘Do you think it would be best for you to wait at home, Mrs Linton?’ Kate asked. ‘It’s cold here on the beach.’
The older woman’s shoulders stiffened and she pulled away. She shook her head without turning to look at Kate. ‘No, I must stay. I must be here for him.’
Kate looked away. It was distressing to witness the woman’s anguish, especially as her own was growing with every passing minute. But of course Jos’s mother would stay as long as the search went on, although Kate sensed she already feared that the men’s efforts were in vain and that Jos was lost.
Kate shivered. ‘Come away, Mrs Linton,’ she tried again. ‘Jos wouldn’t want you to catch a chill.’
The older woman drew her shawl up over her head. ‘I’ve telt you,’ she said tersely. ‘I’m staying. Get yerself home if you can’t face the waiting. But my lad would expect his womenfolk to do their duty.’
Kate knew she had been rebuked. Useless to explain that she had only had the older woman’s welfare at heart. To her dismay she felt the ache of grief in her throat grow stronger and her eyes begin to smart. Her vision blurred and she rubbed at her eyelids with cold fingers. It was not yet time for tears. She felt Mary Linton’s arm come round her shoulders.
‘I’m sorry, Kate, hinny,’ she said. ‘You’re not much more than a bairn. Eighteen years old. About to be a bride. You shouldn’t hev to face this.’
Mary and Kate stood together on the darkening shore and when the men in the cobles began to cast their grappling hooks into the water they groaned in unison. The
Sea Quest
had not been sighted and the men were searching the water for a wreck. Jos was never going to be a bridegroom. Now they must wait for the sea to give up his body.
Sea Quest
had not been sighted and the men were searching the water for a wreck. Jos was never going to be a bridegroom. Now they must wait for the sea to give up his body.
The two women clung together as they looked out to sea. Light from the fire-pans in the cobles danced on the swell and illuminated the scene at the harbour entrance as the men searched. The fire-pans, which gave the men a bit of warmth and could boil a kettle, had different cut-out patterns so that each family’s coble could be recognized from the shore.
The Lintons were there and George Lisle, Barty’s father, and Kate could see her own family’s coble although she knew her father was not on board. Her brothers had answered the call. Time and again the crews cast their grappling hooks into the blackness of the water, to no avail.
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