Читать книгу A Good Catch - Fern Britton - Страница 11

‘Mickey, you want to come fishing with me tonight? Celebrate the last of the exams?’

Jesse was pulling off his school tie as he walked out of the school gates for the last time. It was a momentous day; along with many others he had finished his final O level, and the occasion was marked by the usual flour and egg fight, ended only when the deputy head raged at the rabble-rousers for covering her car in cake ingredients and escorted them off the school grounds. The long hot summer lay, full of promise, ahead of Jesse.

Mickey shook his head disappointedly. ‘I’ve got to help my dad on the boat.’

Jesse put his arm round his friend. ‘Tell you what, I’ll help you and we’ll go out later.’

‘Would you?’ Mickey said gratefully, picking bits of batter off his shirt.

‘Yeah. Donna at the Spar shop fancies me. She might sell us some tins of cider with our pasties.’

Mickey smiled gratefully at his best and oldest friend. They’d navigated school life pretty well together. Football, detentions and girls. He was still hopelessly in love with Loveday, but she never seemed to take him seriously. He’d found comfort with females who were more than willing.

And now school was over and out. He didn’t have to worry himself with further education. He had no need. He’d been offered a job as deckhand on Our Mermaid, one of the newest boats on the Behenna fleet and skippered by his dad.

Meanwhile, Jesse was being groomed to take over the fleet when his own father eventually retired. He had to start at the bottom, though, and was to be deckhand on The Lobster Pot, the flagship of the fleet, skippered by Edward Behenna himself.

As the boys loped down the hill from school towards the harbour, they heard Loveday’s voice calling to them breathlessly.

‘Boys. Wait up!’ Loveday was galloping towards them, her school skirt covered in flour and rolled up at the waistband to reveal wobbly thighs, her white shirt pulling at the buttons as her bosoms jiggled invitingly with every pace. A little way ahead of her, Greer was jogging effortlessly in her spotless school uniform.

‘Where are you two off to?’ panted Loveday.

Mickey put his arms out to catch the girl he adored. His hands caught her waist and he felt the warmth from under her breasts. She turned her smiling freckled face up to the two boys. Mickey could smell the sweetness of her breath as she asked again, ‘Where are you two going?’

‘Mickey and I have got stuff to do,’ said Jesse, staring into the middle distance with feigned nonchalance.

‘What sort of stuff?’

‘The sort of stuff that don’t need girls,’ Jesse grunted.

Loveday looked crushed. ‘Greer and me thought we could do something together with you two. You know. Celebrate the end of school.’

Greer narrowed her eyes astutely. ‘You’re going fishing, aren’t you?’

Jesse ignored her and said to Mickey over the top of both girls’ heads, ‘You bring the bait and I’ll bring the food.’

‘We can come with you,’ Loveday told him, not prepared to brook any objections. ‘Greer and I’ll be good company for you.’

Jesse shook his head. ‘No. Blokes only.’

Loveday pulled a face. ‘Blokes only? You arrogant arse.’

Mickey laughed and turned to Jesse pleadingly. ‘They can come, can’t they?’

Jesse, who was trying to wean himself off his desirous want for Loveday, thought he might be in with a chance with Donna from the Spar shop later that night. Loveday was a no-go area while Mickey still had the hots for her. But maybe it would be nice to hang out with the girls – they hadn’t all been together for a while.

Damnit, Donna could wait.

‘OK. Seven o’clock at Our Mermaid,’ he agreed reluctantly.

Loveday took Greer’s arm and pulled her away excitedly. ‘What are you going to wear?’ she asked.

‘Jeans, I think,’ said Greer.

‘Me too,’ smiled Loveday.

*

Greer left Loveday at the cobbled corner where her mum had a tiny cottage. Then she walked on past the harbour and out onto the road that led towards the better end of Trevay.

When her father had sold the two trawlers his dad had left him, and bought the small fish market on the quay, he’d quickly turned the ailing business round. He’d taken a small selection of the best of his fresh catches up the M5 and the M4 to London’s swankier restaurants and hotels, persuading the chefs that he could undercut any of their other suppliers and provide better fish. He had worked hard. As soon as the fishing boats unloaded at his market, he paid the skippers the least he could get away with and then jumped in his refrigerated van and personally drove the lobster, plaice, turbot and crab to the back door of the poshest kitchens in the United Kingdom. Gradually he could afford to pay better prices to the fishermen, and that enticed boats from around the Cornish coast to land their catches with him. As business grew he expanded the old fish market, taking up at least three times more quayside and landing space. Now he had three vans every night ploughing the motorways and bringing home the money.

Naturally, the cramped house in the back lanes of Trevay had given way to a modern and airy executive bungalow, and this was where Greer was headed now.

Greer’s mother opened the front door as soon as she saw her turn into the drive.

‘How did it go?’ She took the proffered, and now redundant, blazer from Greer and hung it for the last time on a padded hanger in the coat cupboard, next to her husband’s golf clubs.

‘The English paper was fine and the history paper was everything I’d revised, so I think I’ll have done OK.’

‘You are a clever girl.’ Elizabeth kissed her. ‘I’ve got crab salad for tea.’

‘Actually, I was hoping to go out.’

‘Where?’

‘Fishing with Loveday and Mickey.’

‘Just Mickey and Loveday?’

‘Erm, I think Jesse will be there too.’

‘I see.’ Elizabeth knew all about Bryn’s plan for Greer and Jesse. There had never been any other children after Greer and no doctor could ever tell them why. Elizabeth was not really sorry. Childbirth was messy and dangerous, and once had been enough for her, but she knew how much it unsettled Bryn to think about what was going to happen to the company. Women were taking the reins in business more and more these days, but Greer had never shown the slightest interest – and quite right too, thought Elizabeth. Fishing was a man’s world and women had no place in it. Part of her wanted Greer to marry someone outside Trevay, someone with a bit of breeding; but she supposed that Jesse Behenna was as close as it came to old money in Trevay. Besides, look at Bryn, he’d been just like all the other coarse Trevay fishermen when he’d courted her, but she could sense his ambition and together they had come far. All men could be moulded by a strong woman who knew what she wanted.

‘Mum, there’s nothing to worry about,’ said Greer, interpreting her mother’s interest as concern for her morals. ‘He has tons of girlfriends and I’m not one of them.’

‘But you’d like to be.’

‘Muuum. Don’t. You sound like Dad.’

Elizabeth turned and walked towards the kitchen. Greer followed her.

‘Can I take the crab salad with me?’ She tried to appease her mother. ‘I don’t want to waste it.’

Her mother nodded. ‘Yes. I’ll make a little picnic up. Don’t want you getting hungry and eating chips or you’ll get as fat as Loveday.’ Mother and daughter exchanged knowing smirks.

*

Greer heard Loveday thumping down the stairs before she pulled the front door open. She had teased her hair into a big, orange, candy-floss ball and was wearing a low-cut, sleeveless, fashionably ripped T-shirt, her pink bra partly on show. She was pulling at a fringed ra-ra skirt that was at least two sizes too small for her.

‘Ha!’ she crowed, taking in Greer’s tight white shorts, blue and white striped top and long, tanned legs. ‘I knew you wouldn’t wear jeans so I’ve pulled all the stops out. Hang on while I get my shoes.’

Greer watched as Loveday bounded back up the stairs, her ra-ra skirt lifting with every step and exposing tiny black knickers stretched over her generous bottom.

‘Wait till you see these,’ Loveday called from upstairs, ‘They arrived from the catalogue this morning.’

A few seconds later and Loveday came down the stairs, with as much grace as a jolly pig in electric blue stilettos, gripping the banisters for balance.

‘What do you think to these beauties?’ She bounced off the last stair and posed like a stripper.

Greer couldn’t help but smile. ‘They are very eye-catching.’

Loveday looked at Greer’s flat ballet pumps with sympathy. ‘A word to the wise. You’ll never pull Mickey in those.’

Down on the quay, the warm evening sunshine had brought out the couples with pushchairs and people with dogs. The holiday-makers wouldn’t be down in force for another six weeks so at the moment Trevay still belonged to its locals. The tide was out and the inner harbour was littered with boats lying on their keels, green fronds of seaweed hanging from their mooring ropes.

Greer couldn’t help but always remember the first time she saw Jesse down here when they were both so young. His skinny brown legs hanging from his shorts and his blond hair falling over his eyes. Now he was a man. Six foot four, broad and muscular. Greer’s feelings for him had intensified over the years. She dreamt about him, he lit up her life when she was with him, but he treated her like a sister. Greer his friend. Not Greer his girlfriend.

Sometimes she wondered whether he had feelings for Loveday. He certainly seemed to enjoy her company, and she knew that Loveday had a crush on him. But he always seemed careful not to encourage her, from what Greer could see. Anyway, how could he fancy someone as chaotic as Loveday? No. Jesse couldn’t fancy Loveday, he probably just felt sorry for her. Mickey fancied Loveday and, one day, Greer hoped, he’d land her. Loveday would be a fool not to go for Mickey. And one day, Jesse would see that Greer was the woman for him.

Loveday jolted Greer from her musings. ‘There they are!’ She pointed at Jesse and Mickey, who were strolling about a hundred yards ahead with fishing rods over their shoulders. ‘Jesse! Mickey!’ she shouted. ‘Come and give us a hand with this.’ She hefted the weighty picnic basket, which Greer had asked her to carry, from one hand to the other, then waved extravagantly to the boys. Mickey, of course, came to help Loveday. His lanky frame, dark hair and sweet face with its slightly large nose and eyes that drooped at the corners a little, reminded Greer of a lovesick greyhound. As soon as Loveday had loaded him up with the picnic basket, she raced off to walk beside Jesse.

At that moment, Greer felt enormous compassion for Mickey. ‘Here. Let me help.’ She took his fishing rod and put it across her left shoulder, then looped her right arm through Mickey’s free one and walked with him.

‘Don’t worry about Loveday. I know how you feel about her. She’ll see sense one day,’ she told him.

Mickey blushed and quickly brushed her off. ‘Loveday’s all right but I’m playing the field.’

Greer raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. ‘Are you, Mickey?’

‘Sure. I’m a fisherman and there’s plenty more fish in the sea.’

‘Oh, Mickey,’ Greer laughed, ‘you’re fooling no one.’ Mickey looked at her ruefully but then laughed too.

Loveday looked back over her shoulder and saw Greer and Mickey walking arm in arm. Heads together and laughing.

‘Jesse, look, I knew it. Mickey and Greer are a match made in heaven.’

Jesse turned to look too, but said nothing. He was trying not to think about the lace bra that was showing through Loveday’s T-shirt, which was only serving to accentuate her generous cleavage, while also trying to keep in check the dangerous sensations that threatened to overwhelm him whenever he was in close proximity to Loveday Carter.

*

Our Mermaid was a good-sized trawler painted in the traditional local colours of sky blue, chalk white and clotted cream yellow. The hull had streaks of rust coming from the holes where the anchor chain fed, but she was in good condition and well maintained. She was tied up alongside the deepest part of the harbour wall where the boys hoped to fish from.

‘Hey, Dad,’ called Mickey as they approached.

An older version of Mickey was standing on the foredeck drinking a mug of tea. ‘’Ello, son! Where the ’ell ’ave you bin? You’re too late to help me. I’m all finished.’

‘Sorry, Dad.’

Mr Chandler put down his mug and helped Loveday onto the boat. ‘Thank you, Mr Chandler.’

‘’Tis all right, maid.’ Alfie Chandler was very fond of Loveday. She was warm, down to earth and undeniably sexy. A girl he’d be happy to call daughter-in-law. He hoped that Mickey would make his move before someone else came on the scene; there were many young lads who would bite their own arms off to get close to Loveday – he certainly would’ve done at Mickey’s age.

‘Hello, Mr Chandler.’ Greer was holding out her hand to him. ‘Would you help me aboard?’

‘Certainly.’ Alfie offered her his grimy and calloused hand. He couldn’t deny that she was a looker, but she was too bony and prim for his taste. Poor Jesse Behenna. He was caught in a net, whether he knew it or not. Bryn Clovelly and Ed Behenna would make sure of that.

Alfie leant into the wheelhouse and put his mug on a wooden ledge. ‘Right, you young ’uns. Tide’s flooding in now and you should get some good mackerel off the side.’

‘Cheers, Dad.’ Mickey gave him a short embrace.

‘Don’t be home too late or your ma will be worried.’

‘We won’t.’

Alfie stepped off the boat. Without a backward glance he walked off along the harbour wall that led straight to the Golden Hind and its welcoming bar.

‘What you got in the picnic basket, Loveday?’ asked Mickey, rubbing his hands.

‘You’re always hungry!’ Loveday swatted him away. ‘How do you stay so skinny?’

Greer and Loveday unpacked a checked tablecloth that Elizabeth had thoughtfully put in, and placed the Tupperware boxes of crab, potato salad and tomatoes on the cloth.

Jesse pulled out of his fishing bag four pasties and six tins of cider; certain proof that Donna from the Spar shop might be two years older than Jesse but that she definitely fancied him rotten.

After they’d eaten (Greer had picked at the salad and declined her pasty so Loveday had had it instead), the boys set up their fishing rods. The sun slowly dropped towards the horizon and gave a final fiery blaze before sinking into the sea. Greer, who was watching Jesse bait the large hook on his line, shivered at the sudden chill. He looked up.

‘You cold, Greer?’

‘I am a bit.’

‘Come here.’ Amiably, he opened an arm up to her and she tentatively let him put it around her. She was enclosed between his arms as he held the fishing rod. She could feel his chest moving in and out as he breathed. Conversely, she held her breath, in fear of actually touching him more closely.

A tug on the line disturbed the moment and he lifted an arm over her head, letting her out of the enclosure. ‘Want to reel this one in?’ he asked.

‘Show me how.’

He handed her the rod and instructed her gently on how to wind in the reel. The flapping mackerel broke the surface. ‘I don’t like this bit,’ she said.

‘And you a fisherman’s daughter!’ He laughed kindly. ‘You’d never make a fisherman’s wife.’