A Good Catch. Fern Britton
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you want me to show you how to feed the line out?’
‘I can do it.’
‘Well, keep it close to the wall. The crabs like it in the dark. The tides comin’ in so they’ll be washed in with it. ’Tis no good crabbing on an outgoing tide.’
Greer was getting impatient. All the crabs would be in that boy’s bucket if she didn’t hurry up.
‘Let me do it, Daddy.’
She took the square plastic reel from her father and slowly let the line out. She leant her head as far forward over the edge of the wall as she dared.
‘It’s landed, Daddy.’
‘Good girl. Now sit on the reel and it won’t fall in. If you lose it, I ain’t buying you another.’
She lifted her thigh, already growing pink from the sun, and wedged the sharp plastic of the reel firmly under her buttock.
‘Can I pull it up now?’
‘Give it a couple of minutes.’
She looked over at the boy who was again wrinkling his eyes and staring at the horizon. Her father surprised her by talking to him. ‘’Ello. You’re young Jesse Behenna, aren’t you?’
The boy reluctantly turned his gaze to the man talking to him. ‘Yeah.’
‘Watching for your dad’s boat, are you?’
‘Yeah. ’E’s been out three days.’
‘Has he? That’ll be a good catch he’s bringing in then.’
‘Yeah. As long as the bastard at the market gives them a good price.’
Greer’s father laughed. ‘Is that right?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’ve got one!’ Greer was pulling up her line and, as it broke water, her father and the boy could see that she had three fat, black, glittering crabs clinging greedily to the bait.
‘Bring ’em in slow, Greer.’
‘Get the bucket, Daddy!’ she called excitedly.
‘That’s it. Nice and slow. Now drop ’em in.’
Greer watched as the three crabs plopped into her bucket.
‘Mummy! I got three in one go!’
‘Did you?’ responded her mother from the safety of the bench; she was still not looking up from her magazine. ‘Well done, darling.’
‘Do you want to feed them a chip?’ The boy passed over the bag.
She picked up the fattest chip she could see and dropped it into her bucket.
‘Thank you.’
The crabs, which had been scrapping with each other, now started scrapping with the chip.
‘Want one yerself?’ asked Jesse.
Greer darted a glance at her mother, who shook her head. ‘You’ve already had an ice cream, Greer. You don’t want to get fat.’
Greer looked back at Jesse. ‘No, thank you.’
‘Suit yourself,’ he said, shovelling a handful into his mouth.
‘What bait you using?’ he mumbled, standing up and wiping his hands on his cotton shorts. He ambled over, with his hands in his pockets, to look at her catch.
‘Fish,’ said Greer.
‘What sort of fish?’
Greer’s father replied, ‘Mackerel, boy. But I reckon ’tis bacon that’s the best. When I were a nipper, I always used bacon.’
The boy looked at him, nodding his head slowly, weighing up the pros and cons of mackerel versus bacon. ‘I prefer mackerel. It’s what Dad says is best and he’s the best fisherman in Trevay.’
‘Then he must be right,’ smiled Greer’s father.
The emptying of the crabs back into the water was a serious business. One by one they were counted and Greer had a pleasing sixty-four to Jesse’s eighty-one.
‘Not bad. For a beginner,’ he told her.
‘Bryn,’ called Greer’s mother, impatient to get home to a cooling shower. ‘It’s time to get Greer back.’
‘Stop your nagging, woman. We’m ’aving a good time.’
‘I’ve got to get tea on and it’s getting late.’
‘I told you to stop nagging,’ he said, and silenced her with a look.
The children said their goodbyes and Greer’s father said, ‘Send my regards to your dad.’
‘What’s your name?’ asked Jesse.
‘I’m the bastard at the market who never gives him a good price.’
*
Greer snapped her eyes open, remembering Jesse’s straight talking as being so typical of him, even as a young boy. He always seemed so sure of himself; he didn’t ever seem to care what anyone thought. But had she ever really known him? Had any of them? She continued staring out into the churning, dark sea and pulled her coat closer around her, though she knew that it wasn’t the winter chill that was making her shiver.
The sea in front of her was devoid of boats, reflecting the emptiness she felt inside.
*
Loveday Chandler knocked and waited for several minutes. She pulled her mobile phone from the pocket of her fleece and dialled Greer’s number. She heard it ring out behind the closed front door. Snapping her phone shut and putting it back into her pocket, she turned away from the house and headed towards the only other place where her friend could be.
‘Greer,’ Loveday called as she jogged breathlessly down the beach. ‘Greer!’
Greer hung her head and blew out a stream of warm breath into the cold wind. Why would no one leave her alone?
Loveday reached her, panting. ‘Greer, darlin’, you OK?’
Greer dragged her eyes from the horizon and focused on her oldest friend. ‘I’m fine,’ she said flatly.
‘Only we was worried. You left so quickly.’
‘I wanted to be home.’
Loveday sat down on a bunch of mussels next to Greer. ‘’Twas a tough day.’
Greer nodded, grim faced.
‘Brings it all back again,’ said Loveday, picking up a small pebble and throwing it into the lapping water.
Greer turned her gaze back to the horizon and again nodded. ‘I can’t believe he isn’t coming back,’ she said quietly.
Loveday put an arm around her friend’s shoulder. ‘I know.’
Greer turned her white and stricken face towards her friend. ‘And I can’t believe that you’ll soon be gone too. My oldest friends are leaving me.’
Loveday felt the tightening belt of guilt around her chest. ‘You’ve got lots of friends … And as soon as we’re settled, I want you to come out to New Zealand and spend long holidays with us.’
‘I haven’t got lots of friends. I have clients, I have acquaintances, but there’s no one who knows me like you do.’
Greer found an old tissue in the pocket of her coat, blew her nose and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just self-pity.’ It took a supreme effort for her to plaster a tight smile on to her face. ‘I’m happy for you. I really am. And, anyway, I can’t leave. Not yet. I must be here … in case …’
Loveday pushed