The Miner’s Girl (19 page)

‘Good afternoon, Robbie,' she said. Jos Turner glanced at her then went back into the back shop muttering about invoices and paperwork he had to do while trade was quiet. Thursday was the busy time, being market day. Fridays were usually quiet before the bustle of Saturday when the miners' wives usually came into the town.

‘I want to talk to you,' said Robbie. ‘When do you get off?'

‘I don't want to see you, though.'

‘I said, what time do you get off? Howay, Merry, don't cut off your nose to spite your face.'

Merry leaned over the counter towards him. ‘How do I know you won't do it again?' she hissed.

Robbie shook his head. ‘I won't. It's not in me to force a lass. But you made me so mad I hardly knew what I was doing.'

‘So that makes it all right, does it?'

‘Merry!' Robbie's voice rose. ‘I want to talk to you!'

Jos Turner was out of the back room like a shot from a gun. ‘Hey, what's all the shouting?' he demanded. ‘Get out of my shop, lad, before I call the polis!'

‘It's all right, Mr Turner,' said Merry.

‘No it bloody well isn't,' Jos snapped, going close to Robbie and glaring fiercely into his face. ‘Out, I said.' He poked a finger in Robbie's chest.

Robbie looked down at Jos who was a good six inches shorter than him. For a minute Merry thought he was going to hit the older man but after a tense minute Robbie relaxed.

‘Right,' he said. ‘I'm going. But I'll be waiting outside.' He strode out of the shop and took up a position on the pavement just outside the door.

‘What was that all about?' Jos asked Merry.

‘Nothing. It was nothing,' said Merry.

‘Aye well, I'll not have a commotion in the shop, mind,' he replied. ‘Just think on that.' He stamped through to the back shop again.

Merry could see Robbie as he stood outside the shop, not budging, just standing there even when it started to rain. Every few minutes he cast a glance over his
shoulder at her, just in case she slipped away out the back, she surmised.

Jos usually told Merry to get away early on Fridays and this Friday was no exception. He put his head round the door and told her she could go at four o'clock. ‘An' take that daft loon with you,' he snapped, nodding at Robbie. Merry sighed, she was going to have to face him, so she might as well do it now, she thought.

She went out the back and put on her coat and hat and when she came back into the shop Robbie was standing staring through the glass, making it plain that if she hadn't reappeared he would have come in looking for her, polis or no polis. Calling goodnight to Jos, Merry went out to meet him.

‘Let's away down the park,' said Robbie, taking hold of her arm with a firm grip.

‘No,' Merry answered. ‘I don't want to be on my own with you and I won't be.'

‘Aw, man, I told you I wouldn't hurt you again, didn't I?'

‘I don't trust you,' said Merry. ‘We'll walk up the street and you can talk as we go.'

Reluctantly, Robbie had to agree and they set off along Newgate Street, Merry refusing even to turn off into one of the quieter side streets.

‘Well, what did you want to say?'

Robbie stopped by the entrance of the Bishop Auckland Co-operative Society, the Store, as everyone
called it. ‘Merry, I'm sorry for what I did, I am, honest. It was such a shock, that's all. I know you were likely taken down, it happens with lasses sometimes. But I can't get you out of my head. I'll marry you, I don't care. I'll bring the bairn up as me own, even. Merry, I think the world of you, I do.'

‘I don't think I want to marry you, though,' said Merry.

‘Don't be daft lass, what else are you going to do? Go to the workhouse? Have the bairn taken off you – that's what happens, isn't it?'

Merry was silent, thinking of Tom – oh, she had been taken in by him all right. She had thought he was a real gentleman but he had proved to be just a nowt, as her gran would have said. By, it was a good thing her gran was dead so she couldn't be shamed by all this. Ben an' all. No, no, Ben wasn't dead a voice cried out inside her. But she wasn't so sure now. Oh, she felt so mixed up.

A woman came out of the Store and pushed past them, her loaded shopping basket catching against Merry's leg.

‘Hey, watch where you're going, Mrs,' said Robbie and pulled Merry aside. To Merry it felt novel to have someone look out for her, even in such a little thing. Her heart warmed a little.

‘Well?' asked Robbie. ‘Look, if you like I'll get taken on at Eden Hope; they have some empty houses along
there, two bedrooms an' all. I'll ask the morn, go along and see the manager. What do you say?'

‘All right, I'll wed you,' said Merry. At least it would keep her out of the workhouse, though that wasn't a great reason for getting married, she thought, as Robbie looked around to make sure no one was watching, then gave her a quick hug.

‘Now then, Miranda, what's wrong with the children today?'

Dr Macready turned his swivel chair and looked keenly at Merry and the children over his glasses. She sat on the hard chair in front of his desk with Alice sucking her thumb on her knee and one arm around Benny who stood beside her, leaning against her side. Before she could say anything Dr Macready had seen how pale Benny looked, with great shadows under his eyes. He was holding his left arm awkwardly too and his head drooped.

‘It's Benny, Doctor, he's hurt his arm and I'm worried about it.'

‘Let's have a look, son.' The doctor got to his feet and came round the desk. Benny pushed harder at his mother but said nothing.

‘Go on, Benny, let the doctor see,' said Merry. She held Alice with one hand and gave Benny a gentle push. ‘He's a bit shy, Doctor,' she excused him.

‘No, no, he knows me well enough, don't you, laddie?'

He drew the boy towards the pool of light coming in the window. ‘Now, let's have a look.'

The boy's arm was bruised from shoulder to wrist, and the wrist swollen. ‘What happened, Benny? How did you do this?'

‘He fell down the stairs,' Merry said quickly.

Dr Macready glanced over to her; she looked anxiously back. There was something there, he thought, something she's not telling me. ‘Can you turn your hand, laddie?' he asked. Benny turned his hand, albeit slowly. He waggled his fingers in obedience to the doctor, wincing as he did so.

‘I don't think there's anything broken,' Dr Macready said to Merry. ‘But it is badly bruised. How did you say it happened?'

Merry repeated that the boy had fallen down the stairs. The doctor sighed. This was not the first time Benny had hurt himself. He would have to watch him.

‘Is everything all right at home, Miranda?' he asked.

‘What? Yes, yes of course,' Merry answered, but he picked up the hesitancy in her voice.

‘And Alice, she's well? She certainly looks it.'

The little girl was struggling to get down from her mother's arms; she was plump and rosy and determined, almost too strong for her mother to hold her.

‘Good, good. Well, I think I'll put a sling on this young man's arm. Keep it on for a few days and it should be fine. And you, laddie, be careful how you come downstairs in future.'

Merry walked home with the children, passing the school on the way. The schoolchildren were in the yard, the boys at one end behind a fence and the girls at the other. They were shouting and laughing and chasing each other, deep in a game of tag and Benny paused to watch.

‘Can I go back to school, Mam?' he asked. Benny was a quiet child, saying little but he was still quite popular with the other boys in his class. Now two of them noticed him, came towards the railings and as they began to chatter to him he seemed a different boy. But a teacher came out and rang the bell three times so they hurried over to join the lines ready to march into school.

Merry looked down at Benny – the lively expression he had worn when talking to the boys had faded and his face had a closed-in look.

‘Can I, Mam?' he asked.

‘I'll have to go in and see Miss High,' Merry said doubtfully.

‘Me go! Me go!' shouted Alice. She was at the age that whatever anyone else wanted she wanted.

‘Come on then, we'll have to hurry.'

If they weren't back at the house before Robbie was back from fore shift there would be trouble, even though his dinner was in the oven and would be ready for him. But she went through the school gates with a child on each hand and into the school. The headmistress's study was just to the left past the entrance. Merry knocked and went in.

‘We can't be held responsible if anything happens to him,' Miss High said, looking dubiously at Benny's sling.

‘He wants to come, Miss High,' said Merry. ‘Benny likes school.'

‘He's doing well, Mrs Wright. He's a good worker,' Miss High replied. She tapped a pencil on her teeth then smiled. ‘All right, Mrs Wright, after all, it is his left arm so he can still write. But as I said, we can bear no responsibility for anything that might happen.' She turned to the boy. ‘Go on, Benny, go to your class. Tell Miss Gunner I said it was all right. Go along now, and don't run.'

Benny's face lit up and he hurried out, if not at a run at something very close to it. Only at the door did he remember and turn back, ‘Ta ra, Mam,' he said and was off.

Merry hurried home as fast as she could with Alice hanging back beside her; the interview with the headmistress had taken longer than she had thought. Benny
had been glad to go; she could see that only too clearly. He was a changed little boy away from his home. Especially when Robbie was there.

‘Where the hell have you been?' Robbie greeted her as she went in the back door. ‘Is it too much for a man to ask for his wife to be home when he's finished his shift? Where's me dinner, any road?'

‘I'm sorry. I'll put it out now,' Merry answered. She hurried to the range and got the dish of panackelty out of the oven and put it on the table. It smelled delicious; in fact it had smelled delicious when in the oven so he knew it was there. All he had to do was spoon it on to his plate. But he could only have been home ten minutes; he hadn't had to wait long.

‘Daddy, daddy,' said Alice and leaned against him. Robbie's expression altered to one of fond indulgence as he bent down and swung her up in his arms.

‘Now then, me little lass,' he said, ‘what have you been up to? Tell your old dad.'

Alice babbled a long incomprehensible string of words; only she knew what she meant. She patted her father's cheek and shiny bits of coal clung to her hand.

‘Put her down, Robbie, you'll have her all black,' said Merry. ‘Eat your dinner.' She took Alice from him and the little girl started to wail until she was sat beside him on a cushion and a small plate of panackelty put before her. Merry put a bib under her chin, though there
were black smudges on her dress from her contact with Robbie. Merry sighed. She would have to steep the dress before she washed it. For the thousandth time she wished Robbie would bath before eating but she knew that few miners did. They had eaten nothing but a snack in the pit, their bait as they called it, and it was a long time since he had had a meal.

Robbie was tucking into his dinner, all his attention on it as he reached for a slice of bread with hands that gleamed white against the black of his wrists. At least he washed his hands under the pump before he ate, she thought. Some didn't bother.

‘Coal dust isn't dirty,' she had heard many a time from them. ‘Just black.'

Merry had just spooned out dinner for herself, and a plate to put in the oven for Benny when he came in from school, when Robbie pushed back his plate, took a long swig of tea from his pint pot and felt behind his ear for the dog end of a cigarette he had there. He went to his chair by the fire and lit it, inhaled deeply and leaned back, stretching his long legs out on the steel fender.

‘I'll have me bath as soon as I've finished this,' he said. ‘I want to go down to see the pigeons. There's a race on Saturday. They're to put on the train.' Most of his spare time was spent down at his allotment with his pigeons. Merry hurriedly ate a few more mouthfuls then went outside to bring in the tin bath. With a bit of luck
he would be out of the house before Benny came in for his dinner.

‘Don't think I've forgot about it,' Robbie growled as he went out of the door, his hair still wet and his pit clothes left in a heap on a newspaper by the side of the range. ‘I just haven't time now. I want to know where you've been.'

He hurried off down the yard and out of the gate. Merry picked up Alice and followed him to the end of the street to watch for Benny as he raced round the corner with his friend, Jimmy Morrison. Jimmy turned off into the next street and Merry watched as Benny's pace slowed and he began to slouch, trailing his feet. But he looked up and saw his mother and sister there and gave them a small smile. Merry held out a hand to him and he took it, his other arm held close to his body in the sling.

‘Your dad's gone down the allotments,' she said as sadness washed over her. ‘And there's panacklty for your dinner. I bet you're hungry.'

Benny smiled and nodded; he never wasted words. But he straightened and began to pick up his feet as he walked. Alice was yawning by the time they got back so Merry put her down for her nap. Then she poured herself a cup of tea from the pot on the hob, not caring that it was stewed by now and sat down at the scrubbed wooden table to watch Benny eat. He started well
enough then seemed to flag, rested his elbows on the table and picked at the food with his fork.

‘Eat it up, Benny,' Merry encouraged him. He was so thin and just at the minute he looked so small and vulnerable. Her heart ached. Benny put another forkful into his mouth and chewed slowly, though in fact the food was fairly soft and the pieces of bacon in it were the only bits to chew.