Free The Sea Shell Girl by Linda Finlay

Miss Brown tried to pay me for twelve knit frocks and when I pointed out that I’d only delivered eleven …’
    ‘You mean you actually told them they were giving you too much?’ he asked, staring at her in amazement.
    ‘Well, yes.’
    ‘Good grief, girl, you should have taken the money and ran,’ he spluttered.
    ‘I couldn’t have done that. It would have been dishonest,’ she protested.
    He shook his head. ‘Well, it was their mistake. Honestly, Merry, you’re as green as seaweed. Nobody else would admit they’d been paid too much.’
    ‘You mean you wouldn’t have said anything?’ she asked.
    He laughed and shook his head. ‘I’m not daft.’
    ‘And I’m not dishonest,’ she retorted. Glory, this was going to be a long journey home, she thought, sitting back in her seat and trying to memorize the route.
    She recognized the approach to the docks but as they boarded the ferry, Nicco began waving furiously.
    ‘Hey, Otto,’ he called, throwing Merry the reins as he jumped down from the cart.
    She watched as he hurried over to the sandy-haired fellow wearing a brown jerkin, who was leaning against the rail, a battered knapsack at his feet. He looked to be in his mid-twenties – older than Nicco – but by the way they slapped each other on the back and began talking in earnest, Nicco knew him quite well. Grateful for the breathing space, Merry stared out over the water. The chains started clanking
but she hardly noticed all the activity as the ferry began moving towards the other side of the Tamar and Cornwall.
    What a day it had been. After the upset of the last month, she’d really been looking forward to this day, but her visit to the town hadn’t turned out the way she’d hoped. Still, at least Mr Fairbright had been pleased with the work and given her another order … She yawned. It had been a long day and she was ready for her bed. Then, she remembered what Nicco had said about stopping for supper and her heart dropped.
    It was only as the ferry bumped to a halt that Nicco headed back towards the cart, followed by the man he’d been chatting to.
    ‘Otto here’s coming back to Porthsallos with us, Merry,’ he announced.
    ‘If that is agreeable with you, Miss Merry?’ the man asked.
    ‘Of course it is, hop up,’ Nicco cut in.
    However, the man continued staring at Merry with his clear grey eyes as he waited for her to answer. She smiled and nodded.
    ‘Hope you don’t mind the intrusion?’ he asked, clambering into the back of the cart.
    ‘Oh, I’m much smaller, so let me,’ she said, nimbly clambering over the seat and squatting down on her parcel of yarn.
    ‘Are you sure?’ Otto asked.
    ‘Oh, Merry doesn’t mind,’ Nicco answered, urging the donkey off the ferry and onto the bank. Charming, she thought, holding onto the side of the cart as it clattered over the ruts and onto the track.
    ‘You have had a busy day?’ Otto asked, turning round and indicating her parcel.
    ‘I have indeed and I secured another order for our knit frocks,’ she began.
    ‘Otto doesn’t want to hear about domestic matters,’ Nicco said dismissively.
    ‘Oh, but I do. My mother made ganseys. Many’s the evening I spent hands wide apart whilst she wound her yarn. A dab hand with the lighthouse design, she was. What pattern do you make?’
    ‘Grandmother makes plain frocks whilst Mother does the snake cable and sometimes the seeds and bars when that’s required.’
    ‘And what about you?’
    ‘I’ve devised this shell pattern and …’
    ‘Really, Merry, do you have to bore Otto so?’ Nicco snapped.
    ‘Sorry. What do you do, sir?’ she asked quickly.
    ‘Otto, please. I’m a cooper, Miss Merry. I make barrels and …’ he began.
    ‘And we have important business to discuss, Merry,’ Nicco interrupted. ‘The pilchards are coming in thick and fast now so how long do you think it will take to make my barrels?’
    As the men discussed timescales, Merry closed her eyes. It would have been