Up With the Larks by Tessa Hainsworth Page A

around
the stranded boats, sometimes flying away in a rush when the
larger gulls come in to land and to bully.
    Nell is there already though it's long before opening time.
She spends more time here than she does at home. She is
plucky and robust, with great breasts as magnificent as any
ship's prow, and she's been working here at Morranport off
and on for years, stepping in for the owners who travel extensively.
Others have sometimes held the job when Nell gives up
for a time, but now she's back.
    Nell is small-boned and not very tall, with slender hips and
shoulders, and skinny legs, all of which makes her grand, full
bosom seem even more prominent. She reminds me of a
plucky bantam hen.
    'I've seen more than one retired major or ex-diplomat from
Up Country be givin' Nell the old come-on when the wife's
not been looking, though Nell don't give 'em a thing back,'
Susie told me after she'd introduced us. 'And more than a fair
few locals,' Susie had winked knowingly.
    I'm sure some of those old badgers tried it on with her too,
for Susie's a pretty woman in her mid-forties and a flirtatious
one too. She's never married, but she's never without a
boyfriend, or so Reg tells me. I think Reg would like a go
himself, confirmed bachelor though he claims to be.
    But now I'm asking Susie about Nell. 'Isn't she married?'
    'Widow some twenty-odd years.'
    Today Nell is wearing brown cord trousers and a white
mohair turtle-neck jumper which shows off her bosom to
advantage and matches her snow white hair which frizzes
messily around her wrinkled face. Instead of looking unkempt,
it makes this octogenarian look trendy.
    'Morning, Tessa. All right, me handsome?'
    'Just fine, Nell, and you?' I sidle by her to where the post
is stacked.
    She sighs. 'I be poorly.'
    I look at her. She looks ruddy and healthier than most
women half her age. 'What is it?'
    'Feeling rheumaticy these days,' she stares out of the window
at the sea. The light half-sleet, half-rain is falling and dissolving
into the waves which look black and unfriendly.
    'Sorry to hear it.'
    She turns and looks me sternly in the eye. ''Tis too much
for me now, this job. After Christmas I be off. Retiring. 'Bout
time, you be saying.'
    I know Nell enough now to realize she's not accusing me;
it's just her way of talking. 'Don't be daft, Nell. You run this
place like a sea captain runs his ship.'
    'Be that as it may. I be poorly. Some younger bloke or maid
can take over come January.'
    She looks so determined, standing there with her frizzy
hair, chin up and bosom heaving. Poorly she does not. But
what do I know? She could be in agony with her rheumatics.
I'm sorry she's leaving, though. I've not known her long, but
I've grown to like her in this short time. She's feisty, honest
and fun.
    'I'm sorry, Nell, that you're not well, and that you'll be going.
But if that's what you want to do, fair enough.'
    She narrows her eyes at me. They are deep green, like the
sea in autumn or early spring when the sun comes out briefly
but the air is still bitterly cold. ''Tain't what I be wanting, 'tis
what must be. You'll be saying I be a quitter now.'
    I have to smile at this, it's so outlandish. 'Nell, that's the last
thing anyone would say about you and you know it.'
    She snorts. ''Tis enough talkin' 'bout me. Now let's be getting
back to work. Got the parcels? Oh, and there's another in the
fridge.'
    'The fridge?'
    'Aye. You be thinking I should of put it in the freezer, but
'twould be foolish as you'll be delivering it today.'
    I stare at her snowy mohair back while she rummages in
the big shop fridge. 'Nell, I'm not thinking anything. I don't
know what you're talking about.'
    She turns and thrusts a large, damp, limp parcel into my
arms. I shriek and nearly drop it. 'Yiii . . . iiikes! What the devil
is it? Feels like dead flesh. Yuck.'
    'Dead fish. Same sort o' thing. 'Tis the sea bass.'
    'What?'
    'From old Joe Yeovil. His mum's the one looking after the
great-grandson's dog.'
    'Oh, the one with