CHAPTER ONE – part one online preview
Nineteen- year- old Jane Harvey’s mind was on the sea as she left the house of her uncle and aunt in Scholes Park Road, Scarborough, Yorkshire’s premiere coastal resort. Since coming to live with them from Middlesbrough’s growing industrial complex along the banks of the River Tees, in February 1938, she had found her troubles soothed by the sight of it. No matter its mood; tranquil, stormy, heaving with the rising tide or tranquil after the ebb – its vastness presented a distant horizon beyond which dreams promised to come true.
‘Enjoy your walk, love,’ her aunt called when she reached the gate.
Jane turned and smiled. ‘Thanks, Aunty Mavis.’
‘Will you end up at the cricket?’
‘Yes. It could be an interesting last day. Expect me when you see me.’
‘You’ve got your ticket?’
‘Yes. Bye.’ Determined to enjoy this bright, warm day, Jane closed the gate and waved.
Mavis, came to the gate and watched her niece until she turned the corner into a side road from which she could make her way to the promenade on Scarborough’s North Bay. Mavis felt great satisfaction that she and her husband, David, had been united in their desire to give Jane a home after the cruel and unbending attitude of her father. Jane filled the regrettable gap in their lives which had appeared when it became evident that Mavis could not have children of her own. They doted on Jane and her brother, Tim, four years younger, joyfully welcoming the visits, that were only allowed under sufferance by their strict father, after continuous pleading, by their downtrodden mother.
Mavis thought there was brisker movement in the girl’s steps today and hoped it was a sign of her coming to terms with her new life. She also took heart from seeing that her niece had taken more trouble to look smart. Jane used to take pride in her appearance but after the trouble with her father she had little interest in herself. However, with Mavis’s encouragement signs of the Jane she had formerly known were re-emerging. Today she was dressed in a white blouse and navy blazer with a cream linen skirt reaching just below her knees. She had let her coppery brown hair grow and wore it flicked under on her shoulders, a style Mavis knew she had picked up from the American film stars on the screen and in the film magazines she read avidly.
When her niece disappeared from sight, Mavis turned back to the house with a sigh, wondering where it all would end. Would Jane and her father ever be reconciled?
Jane breathed deeply when she reached the promenade and felt invigorated by the sea air. She sensed today was going to be good and was determined not to let it be spoiled by memories of the past or thoughts of whether she should return to Middlesbrough. Too much had happened for that ever to be possible. Whether her uncle and aunt sent ‘progress reports’ to her mother and father she did not know. She doubted it, for she was aware that the brothers’ relationship, dominated by her own father, had finally soured twelve years ago when they’d left their North Riding country village to find more lucrative work elsewhere. Her uncle had seen the opportunity to break his brother’s influence and, with Aunt Mavis’s backing, had moved to Scarborough where his interest in photography had developed into a thriving business on the back of the holiday trade which boomed throughout the thirties. At the time they’d left the country Jane had heard her father mocking his brother, calling his ideas as ‘namby-pamby’ and that he should get men’s work as he had done, maintaining tracks for the Great Northern line. Being only seven at the time she could not voice an opinion – children being very much seen and not heard in her family – but in her mind she was sympathetic towards Uncle David.
She was grateful to him and her aunt for giving her a home; for never once suggesting that she return to Middlesbrough and leaving any further decisions about her life to her. When she first came to Scarborough she knew she should think seriously about getting a job and contributing to the household expenses, but that had been shelved while she settled in to her new home. She couldn’t put it off forever, though. She had considered journalism, for she loved expressing her thoughts and making observations. Before the trouble with her father she had kept a reasonably comprehensive diary; as the situation had worsened her notes became more detailed, especially when expressing her own emotions. It dawned on her that one day they might be useful as background to a novel or perhaps her ability to elaborate her observations would lead to a career in journalism. Maybe now was the time to start, to purchase a typewriter and sound out the local newspaper. It was just a question of finding the right subject … But wasn’t it said that: ‘Subjects are everywhere, it’s a matter of training your mind and eyes to see them’? Maybe today at the cricket …
Reaching the promenade, she slowed her walk until. After a few minutes, she stopped to lean on the rail and stare out to sea. Mesmerised by the constant motion of the waves, she became lost in her thoughts, skirting the past and speculating about the future.
Jane sighed, brought her mind back to the present then straightened up, telling herself, determinedly, that mooning about was no way to start the day. She walked on at an unhurried pace, noting the scene around her – late-season holiday makers making the most of the fine weather by enjoying themselves on the beach; children building sand castles or racing in chase towards the sea; families settling into their temporary encampments, meeting up with friends, being happy together. Jane felt a pang of jealousy. Why hadn’t her own childhood followed a similar pattern? Why hadn’t her parents taken her and Tim to the seaside?
She threw such regrets from her mind as she walked past the row of small holiday chalets stretching as far as the curved Art Deco frontage of the Corner Café from which there were clear views across the North Bay to the ruined Norman castle high on the promontory that split Scarborough in to its North and South sides. Beneath, the Royal Albert Drive and Marine Drive pursued their spectacular seaside route, a link to the South Bay and the bustling harbour. Jane had grown to love this walk, which she did most days when the weather permitted. Today it was perfect.
She found herself wondering what it was like inside the cliff-top hotels above her. She was passing the foothills now where twisting paths had been laid and flat areas dug out to accommodated tennis courts and putting greens, some of which were already in use. The cliff face steepened as it reached the promontory. Jane was always awed by its majestic height, and the screeching of the thousands of seabirds nesting on its ledges.
Reaching the South Bay she was met by the noise of amusement arcades and fun- fairs housed between the shops, cafes and ice cream parlours lining the foreshore on one side. The other gave access to a beach where further holidaymakers were making the most of their last few days of freedom. Jane always liked to drink in the vitality of this part of town before climbing the steep cliffside gardens to what was regarded as Scarborough’s elegant side. But today she was going to forego that part of her walk for in the harbour yesterday she’d noticed three drifters, the Sea Queen, Lively Lady, and Silver King that she knew from their markings came from Lowestoft. Together with the local fishing vessels and craft plying the holiday trade, they added colour and activity to the harbour and brought much needed trade to the fishing port whose returns were diminishing after the heyday of the herring industry before the Great War.
She wandered along the harbour side pausing to watch men busy in their boats. She admired two pristine yachts that must have berthed after she had left yesterday. But her eyes were mainly intent upon the drifters. Yesterday she had been disappointed that there was no sign of anyone on board. Today it was a different story. Five young men, one of whom was holding a soccer ball, were in the midst of laughing exchanges with a fair-haired young woman on the quay. Jane observed her more closely as she drew nearer. She judged the girl to be about her own age and her lively manner and attractive personality were obvious from the way she bantered with the young sailors. They seemed to be a happy group and, though the sailors must be here to work, they generated a light-hearted atmosphere around them. Jane listened, attracted by the soft flowing speech with its drawn-out vowels.
‘Hey, Nell, have you time to suffer another defeat?’ called out a dark-haired, well- built young man whose sparkling blue eyes, and fine-cut features gave him a striking appearance..
‘No, Ewan, no time for that,’ she replied, promptly. The twinkle in her eyes showed her desire to accept the challenge. ‘But I’ve time to beat you cheats!’
This retaliation brought a roar of laughter from the group on the boat. ‘Cheats?’ called Ewan. ‘Don’t be such a bad loser. Here, take the ball and try again. We’ll be with you in a few minutes.’ He threw the ball to her but aimed it to her left so that she failed to hold it.
Gasps of warning came from the men as the ball bounced towards the edge of the quay. Nell looked alarmed. She couldn’t be the one to lose the crew’s precious ball in the harbour. Jane’s eyes focused on the ball. She judged its next bounce, stepped lightly forward and flicked it away from the edge of the quay.. As she bent down to pick it up she could sense the relief sweeping over the spectators.
With cheers ringing out from the deck of the drifter, Nell came running up to her. She reached out for the ball and gasped, ‘Oh, thanks. You saved my life.’
Jane grinned. ‘Would it have been that bad?’
‘Worse.’ Nell raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘Especially from Ewan Steel and Simon Evans. They’d never have let me forget it.’ She glanced back at the drifter. ‘Ten minutes,’ she shouted.
‘Aye, before you taste defeat again,’ came the reply, this time from a brown haired man of similar build to Ewan but with more rugged features.
‘That’s what you think, Simon,’ retorted Nell. She turned back to Jane, ‘Like to join us? We’re going to have a game on the beach before we go to the cricket?’ Her tone was friendly and there was warmth in her dark blue eyes. She held the ball tightly to her with her right arm. With the other hand she ran her fingers through her wavy hair. She was a neat and attractive figure in her light brown skirt and pale blue blouse, white ankle socks and sandals.
‘Well, I’m on my way to the cricket too,’ replied Jane.
‘Then we can all go together. Come on.’ Nell started off along the quay.
‘Won’t the men be sailing?’ asked Jane, falling into step beside Nell.
‘No, won’t be doing until tomorrow evening. We’ve all come from Lowestoft to see this match against the Aussies, you see.’
‘And the fishing takes a back seat?’
‘We always pick one match in the Scarborough Cricket Festival to attend together. We actually come for ten days’ holiday but apart from the days of the match the men operate out of Scarborough time while the families enjoy themselves..’
‘Very convenient! Then the drifters will work their way to Lowestoft?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is the fishing good?’
‘Yes. Not as good as it used to be but we still manage to make a living, though how long for I don’t know. The markets have been gradually diminishing. The men talk about turning to trawling, but the situation in Europe is casting a doubt over the fishing industry, as it is over everything else.’ Realising her tone had become sombre Nell gave a little laugh, ‘Let’s not think of that, we’ve more pleasant things to look forward to today.’ They had reached the end of the quay and she led the way down on to the sand. ‘Oh, by the way, I’m Nell Franklin. My father owns one of those drifters.’
‘Jane Harvey.’
‘On holiday?’ asked Nell when Jane said no more.
‘Oh, sorry, no, I live with my uncle and aunt in Scarborough. I’ve been with them since February.’
‘Here we are, Jane.’ Curious though she was, Nell curtailed her questions as they neared a group of people settled in a circle of deckchairs around two rugs on which stood three baskets laden with picnic supplies. Three older couples occupied pride of place in the chairs. They turned to face Nell and Jane with welcome smiles.
‘I want you to meet Jane Harvey,’ Nell announced. ‘Jane, this is Mum, and next to her is Mrs Steel.’ Jane saw immediately that Ewan had inherited his looks from this handsome woman. ‘And this is Mrs Evans.’ They all smiled and nodded at Jane as if approving of Nell’s newfound friend. ‘Then you’ve got the three musketeers over there, my dad George Franklin, Mr Steel and Mr Evans,’ she indicated the three men, casually dressed in short-sleeved shirts, their dark blue serge trousers held up by bracers. There was the same air of determination and self-assurance in Mr Steel that Jane she had noted in Ewan. ‘Time you got your feet wet, gentlemen,’ teased Nell motioning towards their heavy black shoes. She turned to Jane, ‘They don’t like water, these chaps. Wouldn’t think they owned those three drifters and talk nothing else but fishing, would you?’
‘Now young lady,’ intervened Jake Evans, ‘don’t be giving this nice girl the wrong impression. You know full well and I’ll tell you what, I can talk cricket and football too.’
‘And chat up the girls,’ chuckled his wife, Sarah. ‘Beware, Jane.’
‘Well, I chatted up the right one, didn’t I love,’ came his quick reply to that.
‘I can keep his mind on cricket and football, Mrs Evans, don’t you worry,’ put in Jane with a smile.
‘You are a cricket fan, then?’ Percy Steel asked her.
‘Yes. I was at the match yesterday and the day before.’
‘Going today, love?’ put in George Franklin.
‘Yes. Wouldn’t miss theoutcome.’
‘Then, come with us. I’m sure Nell would enjoy some female company among us men,’ he said, nodding in the direction of the five young crew members who were crossing the sand to join them.
‘Maybe so,’ called his wife Flo, ‘but not before we’ve shown you that you don’t win a soccer match by cheating.’ She started to push herself from her chair and her two women friends followed suit.
‘You’re playing,’ Nell whispered close to Jane’s ear.
‘Aren’t we going to be out numbered?’ she murmured.
‘Three more coming,’ she pointed in the direction of two girls, both about fourteen or so, who were running over from the direction of the sea. They are Silvia and Amy Steel.’ She went on to indicate the five boisterous young men, ‘Simon and Neil Evans, Ewan and Walter Steel. The other one’s Terry who works on my dad’s drifter. You’ll meet them all in the course of the game.’
‘No doubt,’ grinned Jane delighted to have been welcomed so easily by this group of friends.
‘You five,’ Nell called, ‘This is Jane and she’s playing for us.’
‘Only right,’ shouted Ewan, ‘after she saved your face. Come on, let’s slaughter you women then we can get off for the start of the cricket. .
Four coats were soon installed to mark the goalmouths and, with everyone haphazardly lined up, the women kicked off. It became a game of push and shove with cries of ‘Foul’ ignored, shots that went laughably wide, and the ball getting stuck in the wet sand when it looked as if it would reach an undefended goal. Laughter abounded and Jane knew that, whatever the outcome, the game was being enjoyed by all. The ladies, though, seemed determined to win, no doubt to avenge yesterday’s defeat and prove a point.
It had been agreed they’d play ten minutes each way, and when the first ten minutes were up no one had scored. It was the men’s turn to kick off next. As soon as they put the ball down Simon tapped it to Ewan who took a long shot towards goal and found the target. The ladies immediately made loud protests, saying they were not ready and that Sylvia had not had chance to take up her position in goal. The men would have none of it and the women were forced to accept that a goal had been scored legitimately, but their determination was heightened.
Five minutes remained when Jane found herself free of anyone marking her and accepting a long kick from Amy. She brought the ball under control skilfully but after a few yards saw Jake Evans charging towards her. She judged his approach carefully and, when he started to do a sliding tackle in the sand, put her foot on the ball to stop it. He slid past without touching it. She was round him in an instant, saw Nell free and flighted the ball to her feet. Nell steadied herself and put her shot past Terry in goal. One each! Four minutes remaining.
The game became frenzied as everyone screamed for the ball, but no one made any real impression. Though the men tried more long shots, they were all saved by Sylvia who was determined not to be caught out again by male trickery as they tried to distract her in any way they could. With barely a minute to go she saved a hard shot from Ewan and immediately kicked the ball hard and high. Jane, with her back to the opponents’ goal, saw it coming. Simon was racing back but his feet were catching in the soft sand. The ball was dropping. Jane eyed it carefully. She must not let it lose momentum in the sand. With the ball inches from the ground, she swivelled and met it at just the right moment. It flew from her foot. As she fell into the sand she heard a roar of female voices and knew she must have scored. She was pushing herself to her feet when she was swamped by all the members of her team, whooping and showering her with praise. She grinned and felt great satisfaction when she saw the men all glumly staring in her direction with expressions of disbelief.
‘Cor blast!’ gasped Simon.
Arm round Jane’s shoulder, Nell’s face bore a huge grin when she faced the other team and called triumphantly, ‘What did you think to that?’
‘Where did you learn?’ asked Ewan in amazement.
‘That would be telling,’ Nell put in quickly. ‘Say nothing.’ She squeezed Jane’s arm. ‘Let’s get a drink, then off to the cricket and let this lot brood on their defeat.’
More to follow in the next few days…..
