Eve

  ‘I could – but I’d much rather dae it without.’

  ‘I’d much rather you did it without, too.”

  ‘I’ll just slip behind those barrels and pull them off.’ Though there was nobody much about, since it was dinnertime by now. I took off my stockings as well – no point getting holes in them, was there?

  I came running back to him, and curtseyed. He looked me up and down, before saying, ‘I’m pleased to see that your ankles are on a par with the rest of you.’

  I was puzzled. ‘Aye, they dae match – but ankles generally do, don’t they?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not always, in my experience. One can sometimes be disappointed.’ He smiled, ‘But not in your case, I’m delighted to say. Ah – he’s coming – off you go.’

  And off I went – cartwheeling along the fish pier and in and out of the barrels until I sprang to my feet in front of a surprised Mr Parton. He was smiling his recognition, and as I dropped my curtsey a voice behind me bellowed, ‘Those cigars are mine, I think.’

  Gosh, I had enjoyed that morning.

  Chapter Twenty

  A morning which wasn’t over yet, since the photographer had now turned up, and Mr Parton said that if I was prepared to delay my lunch he would very much like some photographs of me gutting in slow motion – so the different moves could be seen. Then the photographer would come back again after our meal break, to secure a view of the fish pier in its usual state of activity.

  So for now I posed alone at the farlin, positioning my hands and my knife to demonstrate the gutting sequence. Then Horseface said, ‘Let’s have one of you looking up – could you manage that saucy smile of yours – that’s it!’ Click! He laughed, I laughed. Apart from Lerwick it was years since anyone had taken a photograph of me – not since India. India – Mr Henderson – the photos were going to be published in a book! I gabbled, ‘When will it come out – this book o’ yours?’

  Mr Parton said, ‘Not before next year, at the earliest, I’m afraid.’

  What a relief! ‘But if you give me your address, I’ll send you copies of the photographs.’ Oh no – no way was I leaving a trail like that behind me, not even under a false name – which wasn’t actually false, of course – merely truncated. I said, ‘Me crew are moving tae Yarmouth,’ (true) ‘And I dinna ken the digs there,’ (also true) ‘Sae—’

  And at once Mr Parton suggested, ‘I’ll give you my card, then when you know where you’re staying you may write to me, and I’ll send them to you – I’ll be back in Town the weekend after next.’ He took out his silver card case, extricated an oblong of pasteboard, and offered it to me.

  I held out my hand, then hastily drew it back again. The usual gutting slime ant blood had now been enhanced by my cartwheeling transit of the fish quay. So instead I swung out my right hip, raised my oilskin apron and told him, ‘Ye can put it straight into ma pocket.’

  Mr Parton went bright red and flustered – but Horseface was already peeling off his gloves. ‘I’ll see to this, Fred.’

  I stood waiting while he carefully inserted the card, giving it an extra pat to ensure it was safely in place. Then I dropped my apron and said, ‘Thank ye – sir,’ to Mr Parton who was now reaching into his trouser pocket.

  ‘And if I could give you something for your trouble—’

  ‘Thank ye, sir.’ Bridget had been right – I spotted the glint of gold.

  Horseface reached out for the coins, and I lifted my apron for him again, while he inserted them carefully, one by one. Each time with the same little pat to ensure they were fully in – no, I tell a lie, because the third pat was not really a pat at all – more of a stroke. I giggled – a horse was patting me! He did it again. I said, ‘Ma pocket doesna gang right down there.’

  ‘Oops, sorry.’ He drew his hand away.

  ‘Still,’ I said to him – they had been sovereigns, after all – ‘Ye can’t be too careful.’

  He murmured, ‘I suspect that’s not your motto, young woman.’

  ‘I’m Eve.’

  ‘Mm – a most apt choice of name.’ Yes – because I was born in Paradise. Don’t think Eve – you’re on the fish quay at Scarborough, being stroked by a horse. Who was now reaching into his own pocket and saying, ‘Now, a reward for your delightful cartwheels – ah, I seem to have mostly small change, is that alright by you?’

  I nodded, then, remembering, ‘But ma reward was tae be your promise not tae tell—’ I glanced over to Mr Parton, too – but he was bent down, intently inspecting some detail of the farlin.

  Horseface reassured me. ‘You have that promise – from both of us, but—’ The coins in his hand jingled, suggestively. Once again I raised my apron for him.

  I was pleased to see that his idea of ‘small change’ was a collection of florins and half-crowns, every one of which he inserted individually with a couple of pats and a stroke – the stroke heading in a different direction each time – it was turning into a kind of game – I giggled. But his final stroking seemed to be going on for ever – so I suddenly let go of the edge of my mucky apron. He only just managed to withdraw his hand in time. I laughed, he neighed. Then said, ‘We mustn’t make you any later for your meal. You cut along now, and we’ll see to the rest of the photos this afternoon.’ I was off, running up the street, round the corner and into the scullery to wash my bandaged hands. Mairi called through, ‘Eve – how late you are.’ Then, as I came into the kitchen, ‘And you’re barefoot againl’

  Bridget intoned, ‘I told you, Mairi – I said to you, that Eve Gunn’s a wild one, she’ll be—’ I was tugging up my pocket and now there tumbled out onto the table three gold sovereigns and an extremely respectable pile of silver. Bridget’s comment and two spoonfuls of tapioca hung suspended in the air as I pushed Mr Parton’s card back in, seized my cooling plate of Irish stew and sat down. Mairi still sighed, ‘But Eve, you shouldn’t have taken your boots off!’

  ‘I had to – the big one wanted me to turn cartwheels for him – that’s how I got all the silver.’ I raised a loaded fork.

  Mairi almost shrieked, ‘Oh Eve, you didn’t – not on the fish pier!’

  Bridget put down her spoon and said, ‘I told you, Mairi – that Eve Gunn, I said, she’s a wild one.’ She reached out and began to divide the cash into three neat piles, while adding smugly, ‘And the gentlemen, they always like a girl with spirit.’

  However would she know? But I didn’t say anything – I was too busy eating my Irish stew and enjoying the rare sensation of Bridget’s approval – which even extended to, ‘If you wanted to stay and eat your tapioca, Eve—’

  I shook my head. ‘I’ll have it cold for supper.’ Wild horses wouldn’t keep me away from the fish pier that afternoon.

  When we arrived back at the farlin Morag was distinctly short with me, and did not want to play games. ‘We’re here to work, Eve – not to go running about with strange gentlemen.’ However, when the photographer reappeared she found time to pull her curls into place, thus adding to the already liberal spattering of fish scales – which on Morag looked curiously fetching – she was extremely pretty. Still, it was me they’d chosen to answer their questions – freckles and all.

  The photographer left, but Mr Parton and Horseface still hung over the railings. There was quite a crowd there by now, including a rowdy gang of street urchins and errand boys – the afternoon always was our ‘best’ time for spectators. But Horseface stood out from them all because of his size – I caught his eye, he winked, I winked back. Morag muttered, ‘You’ll cut yourself if you don’t watch it, Eve.’

  ‘Not me,’ I boasted. My gut basket was full. Seizing hold of it I ran off on my matching ankles – still unbooted, despite Mairi’s strictures. On the way back from emptying the guts I couldn’t resist it. With basket held high in one hand and skirts raised in the other I took a flying leap over a roll of barrels. A man at the end of the railings clapped, I swept a bow – just for a change – and almost danced back to my place immediately und
er Mr Parton – and Horseface, who called down, ‘Another fine jump!’

  Once more I was unable to resist temptation – I answered him with a whinny. To which his laughing reply was, ‘You certainly showed a shapely pair of fetlocks there!’

  He winked, I winked back – and a voice at my elbow said, ‘Fish hook.’

  Oh no! Morag’s face was triumphant – I couldn’t – but a game was a game, and must be played – Remember Morag’s bishop, Eve – and pretend. Putting on my very best smile I called up, as if in greeting, ‘Duin do chab,’ and broadened my smile still further before adding hopefully, ‘Slr.’

  To my relief Horseface’s expression didn’t change. Then he turned to Mr Parton and said loudly, ‘Yes, she’s a fine-looking filly – it’s a pity she reeks of fish.’ I couldn’t believe it – how could he be so rude? Then, clipped of accent, abrupt of manner, ‘Come on Fred, time we were off.’

  And the large full in my hand – already aimed at the tub – seemed to change direction of its own accord. It shot up in a curving are over the railings – and hit him square in the centre of his smart grey waistcoat. Blood spattered up, then the herring began to slither down in a trail of slime – Horseface plucked it off and tossed it down on to the pier – which was now totally silent. Even the knives had stopped flashing.

  I felt a moment of pure horror – what had I done? But there was only one way to go now, so I yelled into the silence, ‘That makes two of us reeking o’ fish the noo!’

  There was a sudden buzz of conversation: ‘Did you see?’ ‘What a thing to do!’ ‘Eve!’ – and above us rose a rowdy chorus of jeers from the street urchins, ‘Look at ‘im!’ ‘Looks a right fool, don’t ’ee?’ ‘That’s telling thi summat, mister, that is!’

  I looked up at Horseface, he looked down at me. Then he said, softly but clearly, ‘That, young woman, was a herring too far.’

  I set my mouth, my eyes challenging his – sometimes defiance is the only option. He continued, still in that same quiet but carrying tone, ‘You have two choices now. Either you apologise in a loud, clear voice – in English, so we can all understand you,’ he paused, waiting. I kept my mouth firmly closed. ‘Or, I shall put you over my knee and give you the spanking you so richly deserve.’ My mouth drooped open in sheer disbelief. ‘So which is it to be, an apology – or a fitting nursery punishment for a nursery crime?’

  My mouth clamped shut again. Seeing which he said, ‘The latter, I assume, from your silence. Right,’ He took off his hat and handed it to Mr Parton.

  I exclaimed, ‘You’ll have tae catch me first!’

  ‘I will, won’t I?’ He was taking his jacket off.

  I shouted, ‘An’ ye’ll no do that!’

  ‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’ He was rolling up his sleeves. Next his tie was tugged off and tossed on top of his jacket as he told me, ‘Now, in view of the discrepancy over our weights and age I’ll give you a five second start.’

  Disbelief still held me rooted to the spot as he began counting, ‘One’, ‘Two,’ – but at his ‘Three’ I was off and running full-tilt along the pier. I risked a glance back – he was vaulting over the railings to land with a practised crouch, and already running as he rose from it –

  I shot behind a pile of barrels and on across a line of basket-carrying girls – surely he wouldn’t – he was behind me, long legs moving almost lazily – he wasn’t gaining on me and I could outrun the boys, so I’d outrun him.

  I swooped behind a second pile of barrels and jinked, to change direction – it was just like being chased by the water ghillie – who caught you once, Eve – but Horseface wouldn’t catch me – he didn’t know the fish pier – but then, nor did I – as a sudden pile of barrels appeared in front of me. The fish pier was always on the move.

  I swerved, and ran along the edge of the quay, why not jump in, Eve? Too many boats moored, that’s why – no room to swim between them. Escape across the boats, then – surely he wouldn’t follow me – but he would, he would – he’d come leaping after me on those long legs of his – in that moment I felt only the pure exhilaration of running a race – a race I was going to win.

  I looked back – he was gaining on me, moving those legs of his faster now. He must have being deliberately going slower at the start – he’d been playing with me, like a tom cat with a mouse –

  No, you’re not a mouse, Eve – mice don’t think. But I knew where I had to go – to the fishergirls’ rest hut, a small wooden building – at the opposite end from where I was now, unfortunately. And he was between me and my intended refuge – so I had to lead him away from it. And there were people in the way – no longer just passing me, they’d all stopped work now, and were watching the chase. A cooper yelled, ‘Tally-ho!’ I was the fox, he was the huntsman – on his horse – he was a horse, a galloping horse. Foxes never win Eve – yes, but they sometimes get away, go to earth – and my earth was that small wooden hut guarded by the starched and uniformed Red Cross nurse who dressed our cuts.

  This way, that way – a cooper barred my passage, I had to dodge round him, still edging towards my goal – Then a male voice bellowed, ‘She’s heading for the girls’ rest room, sir.’ I glanced back, Horseface slowed to call, ‘Where’s that?’ And a dozen treacherous male fingers pointed towards my intended sanctuary. I jinked again – he was already moving to cut me off – and he’d sounded no more out of breath than I was – except that I was beginning to panic – I skidded on some guts, managed to regain my balance as I turned – where to now?

  It had to be the town, I’d run for my digs – even it he cut me off the crowds would slow him down, or a policeman stop him chasing me. I should have gone for that at the start, but it would have been cheating – ah, but I still had a chance of the hut – if I feinted, and he tell for it – He hadn’t. I’d have to cheat now, no choice – head for the nearest steps, Eve –

  I headed for them – but he’d worked it out too and was cutting off my route – but the further steps, it I moved fast – I ran at top speed down the pier, with him pounding behind me – then a pile of barrels rose up directly in front of me – too high to jump – and behind me he was closing the gap. No time for me to run round that line of barrels – then I saw it, my chance. A narrow gap had been left between them – very narrow, but – there was just a chance I could get through it. And no chance at all that he could.

  Like a hare I headed for that gap, like an eel I slithered through it – I ran on towards the steps – and heard shouts behind me, and turned in time to see him come flying over those barrels in one great vaulting leap – flying towards me. He landed to a roar of male cheers and kept on running. For a moment I was frozen in my place – then I began to run again. But too late – he caught me half-way up the steps.

  My feet flew from under me as I was first swept up and then clamped, head down, against his side – kicking frantically, desperately – hopelessly. And all around me people cheered – cheering him. He bowed, and I, perforce, bowed with him.

  I said, ‘I’m no apologising.’

  ‘Certainly not, that option was withdrawn some time ago. There really is no use in your struggling, you know.’ I went limp, trying the old trick and waiting for him to relax his grip. He didn’t. Obviously he knew the old trick, too.

  ‘Where are ye taking me?’ I asked his legs.

  ‘Back to the scene of the crime,’ came the answer from above my head.

  ‘Ye’re not really going tae—’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  I exclaimed, ‘Naebody does that fee me!’

  ‘Then, perhaps, Eve Gunn, it’s time somebody did.’ I began to struggle again, but it was useless; his hold on me was far too strong. ‘Here we are, back again.’ Back at the farlin, in full view of the crowd of Scarborough tourists, trippers and street urchins – all lining the railings and craning their heads eagerly forward. l twisted my own head round in the other direction and saw a long train of coopers, who’d obviously been following us. Th
e gutters had put their knives down – I spotted Mairi’s horrified face – the packers were there too – Don’t waste time looking, Eve – think. He’ll have to swing me round, if I’m quick –

  Above me a deep male voice warned, ‘Now, you will no doubt be thinking of attempting escape at this point – don’t. I intend to wedge your feet under the rim of the gutting trough, and I really don’t want those shapely ankles of yours damaged.’ Nor did I.

  And I still didn’t believe he’d really do it –

  He did.

  In front of the entire fish pier and half of Scarborough.

  It was only four light taps, so light I could hardly feel them – but I felt the humiliation alright. Especially as each time his hand came down the voices of the street urchins rose up in a chorus of cheers and cries of, ‘Look at ’er!’ ‘Don’t she look stupid!’ ‘That’s showing ’er!’

  The minute he’d finished they all began to clap, while one loud voice yelled, ‘E’s taught ’er a lesson ’e ’as – ’e’s shown ’er who’s boss alright.’

  He tipped me upright on to my feet and said, ‘Next time, you’ll know not to throw herrings.’

  Behind me one of the foreman coopers shouted, ‘Right lads – show’s over for today – back to work, now.’ Gutters picked up their knives and packers began returning to their barrels.

  As I stood there, trying to control the trembling of my legs, Mr Mackay came panting up. ‘Sir, I’m so sorry sir – I’ll ensure her money’s docked to pay for your suit being cleaned—’

  With an upraised hand Horseface silenced him. ‘That’s quite unnecessary – the matter is now closed. After all, the young vixen did give me a fine run. Now, I really must be off.’ He swung round to me and said, ‘Good day, Eve Gunn.’

  I risked a glance upwards, his face was unsmiling. I didn’t want to speak to him, but all those years of Apa’s training held me fast, and so, through gritted teeth, I replied, ‘Good afternoon.’

  The faintest flicker of surprise crossed his face. Then he was jumping up and swinging himself over the railings, retrieving his jacket and hat from Mr Parton – who turned one agonised glance in my direction – at least there was someone who wasn’t laughing at me. Horseface shrugged on his jacket, put his boater back on his head and strolled away, swinging his silver-topped cane. He didn’t even look back.