The Fisher Lass
“She was tall and thin, so thin that Jeannie could have believed the girl hadn’t eaten for days. And she stooped slightly, her shoulders rounded. Her dress was faded, the type a smart woman might have worn before the war and Jeannie guessed it was either a hand-me-down from a better-off relative or maybe even from the second-hand clothes shop. But her eyes were bright and sharp and her long fair hair curled around her face.
‘I’m pleased to meet you,’ Jeannie said kindly. ‘Come in, hen.’ The ...girl’s eyes widened and she giggled at the unfamiliar endearment. ‘Oh, you’re Scotch.’ Jeannie bridled at the misnomer but let it go. ‘And you’re a local lass?’ she said instead.
‘Oh yeah. Born an’ bred in Havelock. Me dad’s a fisherman, just like Joe.’ The girl’s eyes turned towards Joe and Jeannie could see at once the adoration in her expression. ‘He’s a skipper, just like Joe’s going to be one day. Aren’t you, Joe?’ Joe grinned, his arm about the girl’s shoulders.MoreLess
‘I’m pleased to meet you,’ Jeannie said kindly. ‘Come in, hen.’ The ...girl’s eyes widened and she giggled at the unfamiliar endearment. ‘Oh, you’re Scotch.’ Jeannie bridled at the misnomer but let it go. ‘And you’re a local lass?’ she said instead.
‘Oh yeah. Born an’ bred in Havelock. Me dad’s a fisherman, just like Joe.’ The girl’s eyes turned towards Joe and Jeannie could see at once the adoration in her expression. ‘He’s a skipper, just like Joe’s going to be one day. Aren’t you, Joe?’ Joe grinned, his arm about the girl’s shoulders.MoreLess
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