A Good Catch Part 10

Jesse could see something in his father's eyes that he hadn't seen before. It stopped him short.

'What's happened, Dad?' Jesse asked, taking a seat opposite his father.

Edward steeled himself and took another mouthful of whisky. 'I've sold Clovelly Fisheries a share of Behenna's Boats. We're now one company.'

'What?' Jesse felt the news wash over him like a bucket of cold water. 'But what does that mean? Are we out of a job?'

'No!' Edward almost shouted. Then more calmly, for fear that he was losing control of the conversation, 'No, son, this is a good thing. I had to make sure you had a business to inherit. Things have been more of a struggle than you realise over the last few years. Bryn's paid a good price and we're out of the danger zone. Clovelly Fisheries will open up new markets for our fish and all of our jobs are safe. The company will carry on as we always have for now, anyway.'

'What do you mean "for now"?' Jesse asked stiffly. He couldn't believe that his father had actually gone ahead and done this. He knew that his father and Bryn Clovelly had been cooking up some stupid plan between them, but for his father to actually sell some of their a.s.sets off ... 'How much 'ave you sold him?' he asked coldly.

Edward paused. 'Fifty-one per cent.'

'Fifty-one per cent?' Jesse exploded out of his chair. 'But that means they own more than half Behenna's Boats isn't yours any more isn't ours. They can do whatever they want with us.'

Edward held his hands out to Jesse in a placating gesture. 'Of course they can't. I'll sit on the board with the other members. And as part of the deal, I've acquired a small share in the Clovelly Fisheries. I'll have a say, like all the other members, and we can't be railroaded into anything.'

Jesse felt a well of emotion rise up in his throat. All his life he knew that his future lay with his dad on the boats. It had been his granddad's, then his dad's, and one day it was going to be his. Of course he wanted to see the world, but he always knew he'd come back for the boats one day. But now ... now they belonged to the Clovellys.

'You've sold our birthright.'

This time, Edward was out of his chair again, his face almost purple with emotion. 'No, no! It's the opposite! I've saved your birthright. If things had carried on as before, there might have been precious little to leave you, and what would you have said about me then? I've done this for you, Jesse, for you and for your kids. I can't rely on Grant, can I? I have to do what I think is right for you.'

Father and son faced each other across the living room, their chests heaving with emotion. Edward rubbed his hands across his face.

'Listen, Jesse, this is the way to survive. We're bigger and better like this ... believe me.'

Jesse slumped down in his chair, unable to look his father in the eye. 'What will happen to the business when you're gone?'

'Well, my share will go to you.' Edward hesitated. 'But there is one way you can guarantee that the business will stay in the family ...'

Jesse looked at his father, knowing exactly what he was going to say, but this time the words took on a whole new meaning.

9.

December 1992 It was the Tuesday after Christmas and Truro was in the grip of the coldest winter in years.

'I'm gonna feel a right prat dressed up like a tailor's dummy.' Mickey was standing in the changing room of the gents' outfitters in just his boxer shorts and socks.

Jesse, in the cubicle next door, agreed. 'But it keeps the girls happy.'

'Aye,' sighed Mickey. 'You sure that's what you want, Jesse?' Jesse never talked of it, but anyone with an ear to listen and eyes to see couldn't but notice how much Edward Behenna had interfered in his son's life. Not for the first time, Mickey felt relief that his own father seemed to want only his son's happiness, rather than talk of dynasties and building the future.

Jesse didn't answer for a moment and Mickey heard only the rustling of clothing as Jesse undressed.

'I've got everything I've ever wanted,' Jesse replied flatly.

The dapper sales a.s.sistant returned with an armful of garments on hangers.

'Now then, sirs, here we are.' He pa.s.sed over matching pinstriped trousers and tailcoats to the young men. 'If you'll just slip those on for size.'

After quite a lot of fitting and twirling, even Jesse and Mickey liked what they saw in the mirrors.

'Now have you thought about what collar you'll be wearing? Wing or regular? Of course it would depend on the neckwear cravat or the traditional tie? Also, would you be wanting a handkerchief in the pocket or would that be too much if you are sporting a bloom in your b.u.t.tonhole?'

What seemed like hours later, Jesse and Mickey emerged from the shop carrying their hired finery. 'Goodbye, gentlemen, and may I extend every good wish for the future.' The shop a.s.sistant smiled benignly and closed the door behind them, with a last admiring glance of their tightly muscled backs as he did so.

It was already dark outside and the Christmas lights swagged across the street were blinking merrily. Jesse and Mickey pushed open the door of the nearest pub. It smelled comfortingly of tobacco and beer, acc.u.mulated over many years. Large paper s...o...b..a.l.l.s dangled from the ceiling, paper chains connecting them in a maze of loops. Only one other customer was in the bar and he was playing the fruit machine; a bored barmaid sat on a stool smoking. She stubbed out the cigarette and walked round behind the bar as Jesse and Mickey ordered two pints.

'I didn't know what to say when he asked if we were sporting a bloom in our b.u.t.tonholes!' Jesse laughed as the two propped up the bar.

Mickey started sn.i.g.g.e.ring. 'I didn't dare look at you. But 'e knows his stuff, though. You can't deny 'e's made a couple of silk purses out of our sow's ears.'

Jesse cupped his hands round his crotch. ''E's not touching my sow's ears.'

Mickey grinned, then started mincing up and down the bar, imitating the salesman's melodious voice. 'Would sirs prefer a stiff or soft one? Tie that is ...' as Jesse brushed away tears of laughter.

'Stop it, Mickey, you idiot!'

Jesse grabbed his pint and turned to see that the salesman had entered the pub; his face made it clear that he'd seen Mickey's imitation. Jesse and Mickey stood stock-still, horrified.

'I saw that you sirs had come for refreshment. I had forgotten to give you the receipt you will require for returning the suits. This is proof of your hire agreement.' He handed over the receipt to Mickey with dignity.

Mickey didn't know what to say, so he blurted out, 'Thanks and ... well, thanks.'

'It's been my pleasure.'

The a.s.sistant turned to leave but Jesse stepped towards him. 'Can we buy you a drink?' he said quietly.

The a.s.sistant thought for a moment then looked at his watch. 'I shut the shop in twenty minutes, after which time, if you gentlemen are still here, I should love a drink. A large gin and tonic should suffice. My name, by the way, is Bill.'

It was one of the funniest evenings Mickey and Jesse had ever spent. Bill told them stories of his life as a tailor, and of his brief marriage to a girl he had truly loved but not in the way that either of them had wanted.

'I have a son who I dote on, and he and his mother and I have an excellent relations.h.i.+p. I even helped to choose her dress when she remarried. A lovely man. Just like you two young gentlemen. He laughed at me behind my back, too, but I won him round.' Mickey and Jesse felt ashamed.

'I'm really sorry ...'

'No need to apologise. I have grown a very thick skin. Now, tell me all about the young lady you are to marry. New Year's Eve, did you say?'

Greer's mother was having trouble getting the zip over the gathers of the waistband. She gave it a tug.

'Ow. That's my skin.'

'It's not bleeding. Now breathe in.'

She worked the zip all the way to the top.

'There now. Turn round and let me look at you ... oh, you look like a princess.'

'Really? It feels a bit tight.'

'Where?'

'The waist, under the arms, round my b.o.o.bs.'

'That's because you've only just had lunch. No supper tonight and it'll be fine.'

'I don't know ...'

'Once your hair's up and you've got the white silk poinsettia in, your neck will look longer and you'll look taller.'

'Really?'

'Yes.' Loveday's mother turned towards Greer, who was standing next to her. 'Greer, you've chosen her a beautiful dress for the wedding.'

Greer smiled warmly at Loveday in her bridesmaid's dress. 'You look amazing. Peach is so the right colour for you.'

Loveday lifted her arms as far as the dress would allow and hugged her best friend. 'Thank you, Greer. I'm so proud to be your bridesmaid.'

'Loveday, who else would I ask? Now, the hairdresser is coming at nine thirty tomorrow morning. You're first, while I have my make-up done, and then we'll swap. You've got to be at the church for one forty-five and wait for me to get there at two. I've told Jesse to be there before one thirty. I don't want him hanging around the Golden Hind with Mickey getting him drunk.'

Jesse was at home with his mum. She was ironing her best dress.

'What you thinkin' about, young Jesse?' She turned the dress half a circle on the board and continued with a good jet of steam.

'Nothing.'

Her mouth made a firm line. 'You can tell me.'

'Nothing, honest.'

'You're getting married tomorrow. No one thinks of nothing the night before they get married.'

Jesse s.h.i.+fted in his chair. His mind was racing with the thought of marrying Greer tomorrow. He was 21 years old and he was getting married. He wanted to run away, or get drunk, or both.

'Nothing, Mum.'

'If you're marrying the wrong girl then it's not too late to back out,' she said, concentrating on a difficult pleat. She had decided that she wouldn't be able to sleep soundly again if she didn't speak up. Jesse kept his feelings to himself but, as his mother, she saw more than most.

Jesse shut his eyes tight for a moment. 'Greer and I will be a good team. Dad's happy, 'er dad's happy. Greer's happy.'

'And you're not.'

Jesse didn't answer. His mum scratched her throat, then resumed her ironing as she told him quietly, 'There'll always be a bed for you here.'

The door swung open, bringing with it the chill of a frosty night and the stamping of two sets of feet.

'b.l.o.o.d.y 'ell, it's as cold as a witch's t.i.t out there. 'Ello, Ma.' Grant Behenna stood in the small kitchen in the full uniform of a Royal Marine, proudly wearing his green beret.

His mum put the iron down and gasped. 'You got it. The beret. You're a commando?'

'Yes, Ma. Proud of me?'

She went to him and put her hands on his shoulders. 'Yes.'

'h.e.l.lo, little brother.' Grant looked at Jesse. 'Ready like a lamb for the slaughter?'

Ed Behenna finished hanging his coat up on the pegs by the door and went to the kettle.

'Don't start on him. Commando or no, you're not too old for me to give you a good hiding.'

Grant smirked, 'Wanna take me on, do you, Dad? I'm trained to kill a man with my bare hands.'

Jan let go of her elder son and gave him a stern look. 'We don't want any more trouble, Grant. Promise me.'

He laughed and hugged her. 'Why would I give my old mum any trouble? I'm a changed man. I'm one of the Queen's elite soldiers now. I fight only for her and my country. No one else.' He looked over at Jesse. 'The condemned man's allowed a last drink, isn't he? Why don't I take my little brother down to the pub?'

Jesse had known his brother would be coming back for his wedding and there had been precious little he could do about it. You could hardly not invite your brother to your wedding, though he had resisted pressure from his mother to ask Grant to be his best man. Grant hadn't ever been a brother he could rely on; Mickey was his best man and that was that.

'Cheer up, little brother.' He attempted to grab Jesse in a headlock, which Jesse deftly sidestepped.

'Watch it, Grant,' he warned.

Grant laughed, a little too loudly. 'Just messing, little brother. I know you didn't want me to be your best man, but I'm over it! Let me look after you tonight.'

Jesse couldn't think of a worse person to spend his last night of freedom with, but he was struggling to say no in a way that wouldn't offend his mother, his brother or both.

Ed was pouring boiling water into an old brown teapot. 'You'll stay in and have a cup of tea and an early night if you know what's good for you.'

Grant turned towards his dad with a familiar air of menace. 'You got what you wanted when you sold the poor beggar down the Swanee. It's the night before he gets married, 'is last happy night and I'm taking him for a drink. Any objections?'

Ed took a step towards Grant but Jan stood between them. 'One drink won't do no harm. Let them go, Ed.'