Liverpool Taffy (47 page)

Next stop Liverpool, next stop Biddy, Dai kept repeating to himself. Oh, he’d stay in Grimsby long enough to collect his pay, to telephone the Gallaghers … oh no, he couldn’t do that, Biddy wasn’t with the Gallaghers any more but the Maitlands would still be on the telephone. Or he might get straight on a train; the surprise would be all the better when he turned up and swept her into his arms, told her no more silliness, they would get wed before he returned to sea and find themselves lodgings in Grimsby. He realised he had been mad to listen to Nellie because the only thing one should listen to regarding a loved one is your own heart. She can’t love anyone else, she just can’t, he told himself over and over, to still the niggling little doubt that sometimes came in the night and made him sweat with fear in case Nellie had been right. My Biddy’s a girl in a thousand … wonder if there’ll be a letter? If there isn’t a letter …

The ship nosed slowly out of the fierceness of the North Sea, butting through the snow which was falling, heading up-river like an old hound who smells its home and its warm bed on the wind. Objects which had clattered ceaselessly to the wave’s rhythm for six weeks fell silent and men looked around, puzzled by the stillness. You could play cards without having to grab the loose pack, you could stand a drink down and find it there when you turned to it once more, you could sleep without hanging grimly onto the side of your bunk, unable to relax because if you did you’d wake up half-way across the cabin.

You could smell the docks, despite having been amongst fish for six weeks. A strong, salty odour which was mixed with the smell of the land, an indefinable scent which Dai could not describe, but could only enjoy.

And as they made their slow way into the fish docks they saw other trawlers with men aboard who could understand what the marks on the bow meant, the reason for the lopsidedness, the constant discharge of water from the donkey engine. Men waved and shouted to them, asked questions, told them they’d been posted missing.… The crew called back, exchanged badinage, made light of
Bess’s
wounds, her beast of a voyage.

‘It’ll all be the same in a hundred years; and we’ll be having Christmas at home,’ the Mate said as he stood beside Dai, watching the Skipper bring the
Bess
so neatly and quietly alongside that you never would have guessed all was not right with her. ‘Hope you’ve been putting money away, lad. Six hungry weeks ahead, unless you sign on with another trawler, of course.’

‘I’ll go to Liverpool first, to see my girl, arrange our wedding,’ Dai said matter-of-factly. It made it more real, somehow, putting it into words. ‘Then … I’ll go home, to Anglesey. Been meaning to go, meaning to talk to my Da these twelve months but never got round to it somehow. Now I’ll go, sort things out. Take my girl so they can meet her.’

‘Aye,’ the Mate nodded thoughtfully. ‘Never leave things till tomorrow, Taff, not if you’re distant-water trawling. For too many there isn’t a tomorrow. Riskiest business in the world bar none, ours. Not for everyone, not by a long chalk.’

‘Not sure, after this little lot, if it’s for me,’ Dai admitted ruefully. He thought he would see the prow of the iceberg bearing down on their little ship in nightmares for the rest of his life. ‘But I’ll sign on again, just to see.’

The Mate grinned. ‘That sounds like me, twenty year ago. Well, whichever way it goes, good luck, Taff. And see you in six weeks.’

The fenders were out, kissing the quayside, the gangplank was lowered, the crew were lining up to leave. There were shouts, rude jostlings, remarks about other people’s wives and mothers which could only have been exchanged amongst men who knew each other very well indeed.

‘Comin’ to collect your wages, Taff?’ Greasy said as they shuffled in line towards the shore. ‘The fish’ll fetch a good price, they say, ’cos we’re one of the last boats in afore Christmas. Eh, look down there – someone’s sweet’earts can’t wait to see ’em!’

Down on the quayside two women stood, an older and a younger. They ignored the howling gale, the snow swirling past. They were both waving, but there was something in the way they stood which told Dai that tears were being held at bay, that the joyful smiles which he could just about make out through the snow were relief as much as pleasure. Of course, we were posted missing, he was telling himself, I hope Biddy didn’t know, I hope she wasn’t too worried … and all in a moment he recognised her.

Biddy! Soaked hair hanging in rats’ tails down onto her shoulders, her coat almost black with wet, but the pink in her cheeks showing even through the snow, and the sparkle in those blue, blue eyes!

Dai had been at the back of the queue. Now he gave a hoarse, strangled shout and simply flew down the gangplank, knocking men twice his size and with double his seniority aside without a thought. He covered the snow-wet, fish-slippery quay in half a dozen strides and she was in his arms, cuddling close, weeping, laughing, trying to talk whilst he tried to silence her with his mouth, kissing her eyelids, her cheeks, her ice-cold nose and then those tender, opening lips!

‘I thought … I thought … you were posted missing. I’d – I’d been ringing every day …’

‘There, there, sweetheart, and here I am, safe and sound,’ Dai crooned against her wet hair. ‘Oh, Biddy, thought you’d met someone else, I did, then I told myself it just wasn’t possible, but …’

It was her turn to croon now, her turn to comfort. ‘Oh darling, as if I could ever think about anyone else, when I love you so very much! And we’ll get married soon, won’t we? Before you go back to sea again – as soon as we can arrange it?’

He stood back from her, the snowflakes floating between them kissing cheek and brow unnoticed. It could have been forty degrees below or baking hot for all they knew – or cared. The crew from the
Bess
streamed past them, ribald remarks were uttered, they were jostled and chuckled over, but neither one of them noticed.

‘We’ll get married in Moelfre, when we go back to see my people,’ Dai said. ‘I wish Mam could have known you, but … oh Biddy, I’m so happy!’

But Biddy had remembered her manners. She turned to the woman standing back, watching them with a gentle smile curving her lips. ‘I’m so sorry … I quite forgot. Mrs Gallagher’s come to welcome you home too, Dai. She – she’s got something to tell you, my love.’

‘Nellie!’ Dai exclaimed. He turned and took both Nellie’s cold little hands in his. ‘Oh Nell, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you standing there.’

‘You two saw nothing but each other,’ Nellie said, smiling up at him. ‘Let’s go and get a cup of tea and a bun; perhaps we should talk.’

‘Sure,’ Dai said. He put his arm round Biddy, holding her close, and then had to go on board the
Bess
again, to rescue his ditty bag, cast down at the moment of seeing Biddy. Returning to their side, he looked rather suspiciously at Nellie. ‘Nellie, it was you who said …’

‘I’ll explain in a moment, dear,’ Nellie said. ‘Come along, we arrived here very late last night – we met on a station somewhere in the heart of Yorkshire and came the rest of the way together – and we’ve got a room on East Marsh Street, so when we came down to the docks we had to find somewhere to go and eat, dry out a bit.… There’s a nice little place on Church Lane …’

‘You arrived last night? But no one knew we were coming in, our transmitter was a casualty of the first iceberg. What made you decide to come to Grimsby?’

Nellie shrugged and beside him, Dai felt Biddy’s shoulders rise and fall in an identical gesture.

‘I don’t know, Dai dear.’ Nellie said quietly. ‘I just felt I had to be here, and Biddy was the same. We’ve been on the dock since before dawn though, because the lighthouse saw you and reported that the
Bess
was heading for home. Now come along, we can talk in the cafe.’

The café was steamy, crowded, noisy. They managed to find a table in the window and all the while they were there the snow blew against the glass in little gusts as if to remind them that, outside, other men on other ships still risked their lives on the cruel and turbulent ocean.

They ordered a large pot of coffee, some hot buttered toast and a quantity of the small currant buns the proprietress was famed for, and started to eat and drink at once, at first almost without a word. But then Nellie put down her cup and spoke. ‘Dai, when you came to me you told me you wanted to many my girl.… Remember?’

‘That’s right. And you said …’

‘Wait a moment, dear. Who did you mean when you say
my girl
?’

‘Why, Biddy, of course. Whoever …’

‘Ah, but when someone says
my girl
to me, I don’t think of Biddy, I think of Elizabeth.’

Dai goggled; there was no other way of putting it. His eyes rounded and his mouth dropped open, but he could say nothing. Biddy could tell he was working it out, taking it in. Finally, he heaved a great sigh and grinned, a flash of amazingly white teeth in a face which had been weathered to a deep tan by wind and snow, never by the sun.

‘Lizzie! You thought I was in love with little Lizzie! And she’s got a boyfriend, eh?’

Biddy wondered whether Nellie would seize the offer of a get-out or tell the truth, but Nellie simply shook her head.

‘No, not really, dear,’ she said steadily. ‘But there’s something I’ve never told you – never told anyone but Biddy here, when we were stuck in that icy cold train, coming across country with infinite slowness. Dai, when I was very young I – I had a baby boy. I wasn’t married, but the – the father of my baby was. He was a sailor on a coaster and his – his name was Davy Evans. When I found I was expecting his baby I went to Moelfre, and Bethan, your mother, befriended me. She was so good! But she had no child, she believed that her husband was dead, lost at sea, and there was I, about to give birth to Davy’s baby, with no hope of giving the child a proper home, a real place in society. So when she said she would give you a home, and all the love at her command, I – I was glad to accept.’

Dai was staring at Nellie as though he doubted his hearing. Was this giving him pain, Biddy wondered compassionately? Did he hate the thought that his beloved Mam had not actually given birth to him, that he was the offspring of his father and his father’s mistress?

‘Nellie, what are you saying, woman? That I am not my mother’s child? That I’m … I’m …’

‘You’re my son. Which is why, dear Dai, I panicked and lied desperately when I thought you were in love with Lizzie. She’s – she’s your sister, you see.’

Biddy had never taken her eyes off his face and now she saw the slow smile dawning in the dark eyes she loved so much, reaching his mouth so that suddenly he was smiling, then laughing. He leaned across the table and put his hands round Nellie’s face, then kissed her forehead, suddenly sobering.

‘When my Mam was dying she told me to turn to you if I wanted mothering,’ he said slowly. ‘Perhaps I should’ve known, guessed … but I didn’t. Oh Nellie, fach, only one Mam there could ever be for me, and that one Bethan, but I can love you like a Mam, and I do.’

‘That’s more than I deserve,’ Nellie said, tears trembling in her eyes, then spilling over. Dai leaned across and wiped them away with his fingers and Nellie laughed shakily. ‘Oh Dai, what a sad mess I nearly made of your life, when all I wanted was to see you happy! And when I met our Bid in the station, with a face like a ghost and great, dark eyes; when she told me she was going to Grimsby … then I knew. It all came tumbling out, all the stupid things I’d done, and she said it didn’t matter, because she was certain-sure that you weren’t drowned, certain that we wouldn’t both have been drawn to Grimsby without a purpose.’

Biddy smiled at Nellie and rubbed her face against Dai’s sleeve.

‘And when we reached the port they were talking about the
Bess
down on the docks, saying what a blessing it was that you’d not all been killed, talking about your catch, your Skipper … and we just hugged one another and grinned like loonies, didn’t we, Mrs Gallagher?’ Biddy said, smiling across at Nellie. ‘So we’re going to get married, eh, Dai? I’d best write a nice letter to Ma Kettle, telling her what’s been happening, though I’ll have to go back there, collect my things and so on, but I’d rather a letter reached her first, somehow. And you’ll tell Lizzie, Mrs Gallagher? She’s been a good friend to me, I’d like her at my wedding, even if you and Mr Gallagher don’t feel you could rightly turn up.’

‘Of course I will, and you must call me Nellie since you’re to be my daughter-in-law,’ Nellie said gaily. ‘In fact I’m going to tell Stu and Elizabeth the truth if you don’t mind, Dai. There’s a deal of harm done by lying, even if you lie for what you think are the right reasons.’

‘Tell ’em all,’ Dai said generously. ‘But I won’t spread it around at home, not in Moelfre. My Da doesn’t know, I take it?’

Nellie smiled. ‘No. Bethan would never have told him. My recollection of Davy is that one didn’t tell him secrets.’

‘Right. So that’s settled. Now are you two lovely ladies coming down to the office with me, so’s I can get paid off until the next trip? Or do you want to go back to your lodgings and try to dry out a bit? Because Biddy and me ought to catch the next train for Liverpool – we’ve a lot to do!’

‘I’d best go straight home, I think,’ Nellie said rather regretfully. ‘You know we’re living in Edinburgh now, Dai? I – I suppose you wouldn’t both like to come back with me, just to get some of the explaining over? It wouldn’t take long, then you could go to Moelfre for Christmas. Say you will, just for a few days! I’ll pay your fares, of course.’

‘I think perhaps we ought,’ Biddy said slowly. ‘Poor Nellie, you’re going to have quite a lot of explaining to do, and if it would make it easier for you … I mean, you are Dai’s Mam when all’s said and done, and Mr Gallagher – Stuart, I mean – does deserve an explanation, all things considered. And I’d desperately like you Gallaghers at me wedding because I’ve no relatives of my own I can ask. Only it’s up to Dai, really. What do you think, my love?’

‘So long as no one starts brooding over what’s long past,’ Dai said slowly. ‘Yes, we’ll come. Only he’s a good feller is Stuart, not the sort to cast blame. I think you’ll hear few reproaches, my little Mam.’