‘The lousy bastard! Didn’t I allus tell you this would end in tears?’ Nancy ranted. ‘What’ll you do now?’
Amber shrugged. ‘I ain’t give it much thought yet but I’ll leave first thing in t’mornin’ an’ go and see me mam, though Lord knows what she’ll say when I tell ’er. I won’t dare let on to me dad who the bairn’s father is, cos if he finds out he’ll be so angry I don’t know what he’d be capable of.’
Nancy gave a deep sigh as she reached out to stroke Amber’s arm sympathetically. ‘Well, all I can say is, rather you than me, lass!’
Chapter Two
The day looked set to be bright and clear when Amber left early the next morning, although there was still a distinct chill in the air. Tugging her shawl tightly about her shoulders and clutching her small bundle of belongings, she set off for Whitby.
Greenacres, the Greenwoods’ home where Amber worked, was about two miles out of town, perched high on the headland with a view of the sea to one side and the beautiful rolling Yorkshire moors on the other. Amber had loved working there, but now she wondered if she would ever return. In the distance she could see the ruins of Whitby Abbey overlooking the town, and her footsteps slowed as she began to tremble with fear. Hopefully her father would be out at sea fishing when she reached her home so she would be able to have a private talk with her mother. But that would only delay the inevitable. Her father would have to be told eventually and she quaked as she wondered how he would react.
She moved on and soon she could see the fishing trawlers bobbing in the harbour, which as usual was crawling with fishermen who looked like little ants from this distance as they scurried about either preparing to set sail or unloading the fish they had caught into the warehouse lining the quay. Many of the townswomen would be there, ready to start gutting the fish and packing them into salted barrels for transporting, but Amber knew her mother wouldn’t be amongst them. For the last few years she had suffered from ill health, which had restricted what she could do, so now when she wasn’t cleaning the little house they all lived in, or cooking, she spent her time repairing fishing nets or knitting the thick woollen ganseys her brothers and father wore when they were at sea. Any spare ones were sold and the little money this brought in made Alice Ainsley feel that she was still contributing to the family’s income. However, Amber and her family were better off than most of the folk there abouts. Unlike some, they had never known what it was to be hungry even if at times their diet had consisted mainly of fish, and now that Amber and her brothers were working there was really no need for their mother to, although they all understood her need to feel useful.
Amber had been so busy thinking about what she might say to her mother that it was almost a shock when she reached the brow of the hill that led down to her home in Argument’s Yard. The majority of the community lived in such yards, each of them sloping steeply down to the sea. Each yard consisted of flights of steps with small two-up, two-down houses that were crammed together so tightly on either side that the sunshine rarely reached the steps between them. The houses were far from salubrious but to Amber, who had never known any other, it was home and usually when she reached this point on her day off, she would be smiling. But not today. Beyond the boats anchored in the harbour the weak morning sunshine was reflecting off the sea making the crests of the white waves look as if they had been scattered with crushed diamonds, but she could see no joy in anything as she plodded on, a feeling of dread settling about her like a heavy cloak.
‘Mornin’, Amber, lass,’ a neighbour who was outside on the steps beating a carpet shouted when Amber turned into her yard, and although her heart was heavy Amber forced a smile.
‘Mornin’, Mrs Preston. Me mam in, is she?’
‘Oh arr, she’s in all reet, lass, I saw her not half an hour since.’
Much as Amber liked the woman, she was painfully aware that Mrs Preston was the worst gossip in the yard and now she had no doubt word would spread like wildfire that she was home in working hours. Still, there was nothing she could do about it so she moved on and when she reached the door of her home, she took a deep breath and entered.
It was dark in the kitchen-cum-sitting room and her mother was at the scrubbed pine table rolling pastry for a fish pie. She was like an older version of Amber with the same orange-brown eyes and strawberry-blonde hair and she smiled with pleasure as she caught sight of her daughter. It was rare that she got to see her since she’d gone into service, apart from on a Sunday.
‘Why lass, whatever are you doin’ here?’ Alice Ainsley quickly clapped the flour from her hands before rubbing them down the coarse huckaback apron that enveloped her from the waist down. ‘Shouldn’t you be at work?’
‘Aye, I should, Mam?.?.?. but the thing is?.?.?. I have somethin’ to tell you.’ Amber shuffled from foot to foot as shame coloured her cheeks.
Her mother advanced on her and gave her an affectionate squeeze before holding her at arm’s length and saying tightly, ‘Then you’d best spit it out. But first I’ll put t’kettle on. There ain’t nowt seems so bad when you’ve a good strong brew to hand.’
Amber flopped down onto one of the hard-backed chairs pushed against the kitchen table as she watched her mother fill the kettle from the bucket of water she had standing on the long wooden draining board. Once that was done Alice hung the kettle on the hook that was suspended above the fireplace and swung it into the fire to boil and only then did she join her daughter at the table to ask, ‘Well?’
Amber hung her head as tears slid down her cheeks. ‘The thing is, Mam?.?.?.’ she began hesitantly but the words seemed to be sticking in her throat. ‘Th-the thing is?.?.?. I’m goin’ to have a bairn!’
‘Oh, dear Lord!’ The colour drained from her mother’s cheeks like water from a dam as her hand rose to her mouth and different emotions flitted across her face. There was shock and denial but most of all disappointment, for she would never have believed in a million years that her girl would be loose with her favours before she had a ring on her finger. There was more than one lad had already tried to put one there to be fair, and one in particular, but Amber had never shown a vestige of interest in any of them. She’d always insisted that she was too young to be wed, unlike some of her schoolfriends who already had a bairn or two clinging to their skirts. And so for her mother to discover this news now was even more shocking.
‘And are you goin’ to tell me who the daddy is?’ Alice asked, her face as straight as a poker. ‘Cos as sure as eggs is eggs your daddy is goin’ to want to know.’
‘It would be better if I didn’t tell you,’ Amber muttered and raising her head she saw her mother frown.
‘Well, I wouldn’t mind bettin’ it was Bertie Preston, although I never thought you were that keen on him. Or is it that Jimmy that’s sweet on you from up at the house?’
‘It?.?.?. it isn’t either of them.’ Amber’s shoulders were hunched and she looked so miserable that her mother couldn’t help but feel sorry for her even if she did want to clout her round the ear.
‘But who else could it be?’ Her mother knew that the only day off Amber had was on a Sunday and she spent much of that at home with her family. She tutted and stared off into space for a moment before saying, ‘So if it ain’t them, is the father in a position to marry you?’
When Amber shook her head and began to cry, she sighed. ‘Then there’s only one thing for it. Bertie is as keen as mustard so even if the bairn ain’t his you’ll have to let him court you an’ think it is. How many courses have you missed?’
‘I’ve missed two, an’ even if I wanted to marry Bertie, which I don’t, what would I tell him when the baby appears two or three months ahead of its time?’ Amber retorted bitterly. ‘He ain’t soft in the head you know, Mam.’
‘Aw, lass, whatever were you thinkin’ of after all the warnin’s I gave you?’
‘He?.?.?. he told me he loved me.’ Amber sniffed and her mother sighed.
‘Aye well, you ain’t the first an’ you won’t be the last, I dare say, but now what are we to do about it? There’ll be all hell let loose if your dad finds out about it.’
Her mother got up and began to pace up and down the floor as she tried to think. Her husband was a kind man but fiercely protective of his only daughter and she dreaded to think what his reaction would be when he heard the news.
