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laddies, where are you?’ Nola shouted. ‘We’re wasting the day.’
    ‘And money,’ another girl called. ‘We’ve to get our quota in before the day is out.’
    ‘Here they come!’ someone else called. ‘The lads are coming.’
    All eyes turned to the fishing fleet, the Fifies and the Zulus, coming towards the harbour; a cheer went up and some of the girls broke into song.
    ‘Wha’ll buy my caller herrin’ / they’re bonnie fish and halesome fairin’ / Wha’ll buy my caller herrin’ / new drawn frae the Forth.’
    Mary smiled at their enthusiasm, though she felt emotional at being once more with her Scottish companions. They were jolly women full of laughter and anecdotes and worked hard all day often in difficult conditions; it was not always sunny as this morning was. If it was raining they continued as usual, trying their best to earn enough money to pay for lodgings, food and a ticket home at the end of the season.
    The herring were unloaded from the ships’ baskets, tipped into troughs and covered with rough salt so that they weren’t so slippery to handle, and the girls began their job of sizing and gutting each fish, a task which took only seconds. In their team Mary had taken on the role of packer with her mother and Nola as gutters and hoped she hadn’t lost her skill as she arranged the herring in tiers, slit bellies uppermost and heads towards the barrel edge, and sprinkled each layer with salt. Each barrel held about seven hundred fish, and the cooper who was watching Mary as she worked ensured that all the barrels were properly packed and salted.
    Jeannie made herself useful by going on errands for the girls; sometimes running to the bakery to buy them bread or scones, fetching water from the pump, or carrying messages from one to another. Tom, she knew, was with the other barefoot lads, dashing to pick up the fallen fish and scooting off to hawk them.
    At the end of the day, when they had packed thirty barrels of herring, Fiona’s crew, as she called them, packed up for the night. It had been a reasonably good day, they agreed, but maybe it would be even better tomorrow. They rinsed off their aprons and boots and hung them to dry outside Mary’s door, then went inside for supper.
    Jeannie climbed into bed at Tom’s side at about seven o’clock. They were both tired after the early start, but Tom was jubilant for he had made a shilling from his catch.
    ‘I’ll give you a penny to spend, Jeannie,’ he said sleepily, ‘and I’ll keep tuppence cos I was the one to work for it, ’n’ I’ll give the rest to Ma.’
    ‘Thank you,’ she said, and as she drifted into sleep the last thing she heard was her grandmother saying, ‘Have ye not found another man to wed, Mary?’ and her mother’s reply: ‘No, Ma. I’m not looking. Have you?’
    Fiona glanced towards the bed. Seeing the children asleep, she said softly, ‘Aye, as a matter of fact I have.’
    ‘What!’ Mary said, and Nell and Nola both grinned. ‘You’re joking!’
    ‘No, I’m not.’ Fiona flushed a little. ‘I said I’d give my answer after this trip and I will. It’ll be aye, I will; so this will be my last season with the silver darlings.’
    Mary was speechless; then she swallowed. ‘Who?’ she said. ‘Who are you going to marry?’
    ‘Andrew Duncan. You don’t know him. I met him at a ceilidh about three years ago.’
    ‘A ceilidh! Three years ago?’ Mary was aghast. ‘What do you know about him?’
    Fiona laughed. ‘Wheesht, lassie. He’s not marrying me for my money, that I can tell you.’ Then she patted her daughter’s knee. ‘You’re a long time deid, Mary, and I’m getting tired,’ she said soberly. ‘I can’t keep on with this work for much longer. Andrew wants me to give it up and live with him. He’s got a nice little croft with a few sheep and a mite o’ money put by. Enough, he says, to last us out our days. He’s nice,’ she added. ‘You’d like him.’
    Mary was astonished.