A True Love of Mine Read online

  ‘But that’s a long time off, ain’t it?’ she said cheerfully. ‘Tomorrow can take care of itself. I believe in making the most of today.’

  ‘A good philosophy, I suppose,’ said William thoughtfully.

  The Three Mariners’ Inn was crowded around the bar area, but they managed to find a secluded corner away from the crowds. William ordered his usual pint of bitter whilst Bella asked for a port and lemon. One soon disappeared and he bought her another, but his pint would last him all evening. He had seen too many fellows – even some of his own friends – the worse for drink and did not want ever to be in that state himself.

  ‘Now, bonny lad,’ she said, putting down her glass and licking her lips appreciatively. ‘Hows about telling me about this mysterious job of yours? I reckon you’ve got time to do a fair bit of gadding about, watching minstrel shows and going shopping for fresh lobsters, eh?’

  He grinned at her, putting his elbows on the scarred and pitted wooden table and leaning towards her. ‘I’m an undertaker,’ he said.

  ‘What!’ She threw back her head and laughed. ‘You’re not! You can’t be! Tell me you’re joking…’

  ‘Of course I’m not joking. Why should I be?’ he replied, feeling somewhat indignant. ‘It’s a respectable trade and one I’m not ashamed of. Somebody has to do it, the same as somebody has to sweep chimneys, or gut herrings…’ He nodded at her meaningfully. ‘…Or go down the mine or…anything.’

  ‘Aye, I s’pose so.’ She nodded. ‘That’s what my old man does; he works down the pit. I’m sorry I laughed.’ She was looking a little more serious now. ‘I shouldn’t’ve, but it was such a shock, like. I never dreamt…’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose you did. You’re not squeamish, are you, about what I do? It’s just a job, same as any other.’

  ‘Squeamish? No; why should I be? I’ve seen a few dead bodies if that’s what you mean, an’ it doesn’t worry me that you have to touch ’em.’

  ‘Talking about me having time to gad about,’ he went on, ‘well, it’s not strictly true. I’m as busy as the next man. But our work comes in fits and starts, you might say. Sometimes there’s a lull, and then suddenly there might be a rush of jobs that we’re called out to attend to.’

  ‘In the winter, I suppose?’

  ‘Aye, or if there’s an outbreak of summat or another. Believe me, I sometimes feel it’s wrong to be making money out of folks’ tragedies, but it’s got to be done.’

  ‘You’re a sensitive sort o’ lad, aren’t you?’ She smiled at him, not at all teasingly now. ‘I like fellers that show a caring side, but I ain’t met many of ’em. I reckon you’re different, William Moon.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he replied, a little nonplussed. He had always tried to be thoughtful towards others and to respect womenfolk especially, as his father had instilled in him that he should. Some of the lads he knew boasted about their conquests with girls – the girls who hung around the bars in the less salubrious areas of the town – although he was never quite sure how much to believe. There were a few such young women there tonight in the Three Mariners’. He had seen Bella wave to one of them and guessed it was another of the herring girls. He knew they were considered by some to be not quite respectable. But Bella was there at his invitation. She had not tried to entice him and he was sure that, given a chance, she would turn out to be a decent sort of girl.

  So he told himself all through that summer. He walked her home that first evening, kissing her discreetly on the cheek as he said goodnight to her at the end of her street. She would not let him take her any further, assuring him it was only a stone’s throw from where she was lodging.

  He asked her to accompany him to a brass band concert at the Spa on the following Sunday afternoon. They both enjoyed the rousing music, singing along or lah-lahing to the marches and the inevitable selection of Gilbert and Sullivan tunes. William was glad they shared this interest and he was sure they would find other things they agreed upon as time went on.

  He knew, deep down, that Sunday afternoon, that had she been a different sort of girl – one from the chapel maybe – he would have invited her home to have tea with him and his parents. His mother always put on quite a spread for Sunday tea, with boiled ham and salad and thinly cut bread and butter, followed by tinned peaches and cream. But he did not do so. Neither did he invite her to his home at any time throughout the whole of that summer, and Bella did not seem to expect that he would.

  ‘Shall I see you tonight?’ he asked tentatively that first Sunday, after the concert had ended. ‘My parents…er…they’ve got visitors for tea today…’ He felt awful lying to her. ‘…So I’ll have to go home and pay my respects. But I could see you later…?’

  ‘No, not tonight; I’m busy,’ she replied, a little abruptly. He wondered if she was aware that he was not being entirely straightforward with her. She seemed to relent, though, almost immediately, smiling at him ruefully – as though she understood he was fibbing? – and saying, ‘Hows about tomorrow night then, or Tuesday? I could manage to see you then.’

  They met on the Tuesday evening, taking a stroll around the North Bay area of the town, a quieter, more select part which Bella had not visited before. They returned to the harbour area for a drink and this time, with Bella’s encouragement, William was tempted to kiss her on the lips, and much more ardently.

  He became a different person during the three months he spent with her, giving little heed to what the future might hold for both of them. It was inevitable that their increasingly passionate kisses and embraces should ultimately lead them to the room in the fisherman’s cottage, and to the double bed that Bella shared with another young woman. Her friend was out for the evening, she said, and would not be back until much later, and William had little doubt that Bella had planned it that way. His eyes took in briefly the shabbiness of the room where she and her colleague slept, lived, ate and did what little cooking they required; but, fortunately, he did not find the place dirty or too repellent. Besides, he had eyes only for Bella as she lay, eventually, naked in his arms.

  It was the first time for him, but he was not surprised to discover that Bella was far from inexperienced; nor sorry either as she led him along every step of the way. ‘Aye, I guessed you might be wet behind the ears, bonny lad,’ she told him teasingly. ‘But you weren’t half bad for a beginner. An’ it’ll be better next time…’

  And so it had proved to be, although William told himself it was not just ‘that’ that was important in their relationship. He enjoyed her company and the things they did together; visits to the theatre, brass band concerts and minstrel shows and long walks along the beach, or along the promenade when the tide was in. His parents did not question his whereabouts, but then they had never done so, trusting him to abide by their standards.

  One night, however, when they were enjoying a drink in a bar on Castle Road, William caught sight of his father. He had tried to avoid the pubs that he thought Isaac frequented, but obviously he was not fully conversant with all his father’s haunts. He gave a start, spilling some of his ale on to the table and causing Bella to ask him, ‘What’s up?’

  ‘My father,’ he replied truthfully. ‘He’s over there. I didn’t realise he came here.’

  ‘So what? What does it matter?’ she asked. ‘You’re a big boy now, Will. You don’t have to ask your father’s permission to go in a pub, do you?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ he replied. ‘It’s just that…well…we’re supposed to be strict Methodists and…’ But that, he knew, did not explain the fact that his father was there as well, partaking of strong liquor. He did not need to explain further, however, because at that moment his father noticed them and, after a startled glance, raised his hand in greeting.

  ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me?’ said Bella, already jumping from her stool and making her way across the saloon.

  To give her her due she behaved impeccably as William introduced her as a friend he had met earlier that summer. Sh
e had been dressed fairly decorously that evening in a blouse with a higher neckline that the ones she usually favoured. But its bright scarlet colour and the matching ribbon on her hat were eye-catching enough; and Isaac was not fooled into thinking she was a girl from the chapel or the sister of one of his friends.

  All he said to William the next morning was, ‘Watch your step, lad. That young woman’s not our sort. Happen she’s a pleasant enough lass to take around a bit, but…just think on. Watch what you’re doing. That’s all as I’m saying.’

  ‘She’s just a friend, Father,’ William replied, shrugging a little. ‘I didn’t introduce her to you and Mother because she won’t be staying in Scarborough very long. She’s only here for the season.’

  ‘Aye; it’s happen just as well…’ remarked Isaac.

  It was halfway through September that Bella told him she was pregnant with his child.

  Chapter Seven

  William felt himself blanch visibly and he put down his tankard of beer with trembling hands. ‘But…you can’t be!’ he gasped. ‘I’ve been so careful…’ At least as careful as he knew how.

  ‘Not careful enough, bonny lad…’

  ‘How can you be sure though? And how do you know it’s mine?’

  Bella was indignant then. ‘What sort of a girl do you take me for? Of course it’s yours. Who else’s would it be? Aye, I know I’d been around a bit afore I met you; I told you so, didn’t I? But since I’ve been seeing you there’s been nobody else, nobody at all.’

  ‘But how can you be so sure…so soon? I mean…’ He counted on his fingers. ‘It’s only just over three months since we met. Perhaps you’re just… I mean, perhaps you’ll find out soon that you’re not expecting a baby.’ Despite the intimacy that they had shared William knew it would not be proper to make any reference to a woman’s monthly cycle.

  ‘You mean I might come on?’ Bella said, without any such reticence. ‘Not a hope I’m afraid. I’m as regular as clockwork. Anyways, I know; I just know I’m pregnant.’ She grinned. ‘I’ve got a bun in the oven, as some of my mates might say.’

  ‘They don’t know, do they?’ he asked.

  ‘No, why should they? It’s got nowt to do wi’ them, only you and me. So…what are you going to do about it, eh lad?’

  He stared at her in astonishment. He felt ashamed, looking back on it afterwards, at how little effort he had made to support her, how quick he had been to shift the responsibility on to her. ‘What do you mean?’ he said. ‘What am I going to do about it? Surely it’s up to you, isn’t it, to do…something?’ He had heard of such situations. Unwanted babies could be got rid of. Bella would know girls, he was sure, who had been in a similar predicament. There was sometimes a risk involved, but she was a big strong lass…

  His thoughts had barely formed before she yelled at him, her black eyes flashing with anger and a deep red colour suffusing her already sunburnt cheeks. They had, until then, been speaking quietly, but now her voice could have been heard at the other end of the room, were it not for the sudden outburst of laughter breaking forth simultaneously from a crowd of fishermen at a nearby table. ‘You’re telling me I should get rid of my bairn – your bairn – are you, Will Moon? How could you even suggest I might do such a thing?’

  ‘I’m sorry…’ he mumbled, reaching out and putting his hand on her arm. ‘I didn’t mean it to sound like that…’ He scarcely knew himself what he had meant. He had said the first thing that had come into his head.

  ‘Well, what did you mean then?’ she retorted, speaking rather more quietly now but spitting the words out with a venom that disturbed him.

  He rose to his feet. ‘Come along, Bella; let’s get out of here.’

  She quickly drained her second shandy of the evening and William left the dregs of his ale in the tankard and made towards the door. She followed him out into the gathering dusk of the September night. They crossed the road and leant on the railings gazing out across the dark sea.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘But you’ve taken the wind out of my sails…’

  ‘Aye, I can see that, lad,’ she replied.

  ‘I didn’t really mean… Of course you mustn’t get rid of…the baby. But…what are you going to do?’

  ‘What am I going to do?’ she repeated, using the selfsame words that he had uttered a few minutes earlier. ‘You mean what are we going to do, don’t you, Will? The way I see it there’s a simple solution. It’s your child…and you’re a single chap, aren’t you?’

  ‘You mean…’ He stared at her, aghast. ‘You don’t mean…you can’t mean that we should get married, do you?’

  ‘Why not? You’ve got me into this pickle. It takes two, y’know, an’ I can’t recall you ever being unwilling.’

  ‘But we can’t… I mean, it’s out of the question. I’m only eighteen.’

  ‘Lots of lads are married at eighteen, and lasses an’ all. And you’re not short of a bob or two neither, are you?’

  ‘No, I suppose not. But it’s such a big step and…’

  William, to his consternation, found he was near to tears now. He was disgusted at himself for his reaction, but it was something, in his naivety, that he had never envisaged happening. What a stupid bloody fool he had been! He couldn’t marry Bella. He was fond of her, he supposed, and they had had some good times together. And he had taken willingly of all that she had to offer… He knew that, and it didn’t make him any easier in his conscience remembering how, in the beginning, she had led the way in their lovemaking. But he had been a keen follower… She had made a man of him; that was what he had thought, but now he felt like a callow inexperienced lad again. His father was right, though; she was not their sort of girl, not the sort you married; just the kind of girl you might amuse yourself with for a while. Feeling heart sore and remorseful beyond words he turned to look straight at her. ‘Bella, I’m sorry, but—’ he began.

  ‘But you can’t – won’t – marry me,’ she interrupted. Her eyes were burning with what looked like dislike, hatred almost, and an undisguised contempt which he had no doubt he deserved. ‘Huh.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘So much for your fine words, eh, Will Moon? You’ll find I’m a man of my word… Remember saying that, eh? Never let it be said that I should let a lady down,’ she mocked him. ‘All right then, I know where I stand now, don’t I? An’ I suppose it’s only what I might’ve expected. Yer father didn’t reckon much to me neither, did he?’ He opened his mouth to answer but no words would come.

  ‘Oh, don’t bother to try and explain yerself. Get back to yer dead bodies. I might just as well be one of ’em for all you care.’

  ‘Bella, that’s not true…’ he protested.

  ‘I’ve got me answer, an’ as far as I’m concerned that’s that. So why don’t you just bugger off now to where you belong?’ It was the first time he had heard her use such language and he was rather shocked. She had moderated her colourful speech when she was in his company, but he knew she had just cause to be angry now.

  ‘Go on, clear off! Don’t worry – you won’t be seeing me again, not yet awhile, p’r’aps not ever. But I shan’t forget what you’ve done, William Moon.’ She gave him one more baleful glance before turning away and heading off back in the direction of the harbour.

  ‘Bella…’ He took a step towards her, but she held up her hand.

  ‘No, Will. I’ve said all as I’m saying and that’s an end to it. Don’t come after me. Goodbye, Will Moon.’

  He stood and stared as she walked briskly away from him. He saw her turn up an alleyway near to where she was lodging. He was not to see her again for more than five years. He did not go down to the harbour the following day to see if she was there. After all, what could he say to her? He had tossed and turned all through the night but he knew that nothing could make him change his mind. Two days later, though, feeling reluctant and fearful but unable to help himself, his steps took him towards the harbour. He stood a little way away, watching the familiar scene of the
herring girls at their work. Bella was not amongst them. He despised himself more than ever for the sigh of relief that escaped him. Stepping forward he asked the girl called Mona if she knew where Bella was.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, is it?’ she said, looking him up and down in a provocative manner. ‘No, I don’t know where she is. She’s skedaddled. She took off yesterday morning wi’out so much as a cheerio or anything. She might’ve gone up to Scotland or down to Grimsby. Who knows? Sorry an’ all that, but I can’t help yer.’ She grinned at him. ‘Not unless you’re wanting a bit o’ company, like?’

  ‘No…thank you,’ he muttered. He turned away finding himself trembling a little.

  He still had not recovered from the shock that Bella’s news had given him and for a few days afterwards he found himself looking over his shoulder, half expecting that she might suddenly reappear. His work, as always, was an antidote to his preoccupation. Not that it was work that was likely to cheer him up, at least not some aspects of it, but there was great fulfilment to be found in working with timber, in the satisfying sweep of the plane in his hand and the satiny smooth feel of the elm or oak beneath his fingers.

  ‘Is there summat wrong, lad?’ his father asked him, after he had been more than usually quiet for a few days. It was inevitable that Isaac would enquire. He was always quick to notice when one of his family was worried about something. ‘You’ve not been yerself just lately.’

  ‘Oh, it’s nowt much, Father,’ he replied. ‘Happen it’s because the summer’s coming to an end…’ Then he decided he would be honest; well, as honest as he could be under the circumstances. ‘Actually… I’m feeling a bit lonely. You remember that lass you saw me with? Well, she’s gone back home now. And I liked her quite a lot, I must admit.’

  His father gave him a searching look but one, William felt, that held a touch of sympathy as well. ‘Aye well, maybe you did, but you’ll get over it, son. She weren’t our sort…’ He shook his head. ‘But there’s nowt wrong wi’ sowing a few wild oats afore you settle down.’ Isaac sniffed, then gave a chuckle. ‘Not that I ever had much chance to do that, not wi’ my old man around. Just think on how lucky you are, my lad.’