The Miner’s Girl (35 page)

‘You! Get off the place this minute or I'll have the law on you,' Miles shouted. For a moment Ben thought the order was meant for him but it wasn't, he realised, when he saw Miles had his back to him and was shouting at the stableman. John did not move. He had his arm around his mistress, supporting her. She had evidently suffered a fall for she was half fainting and her face was grazed and bruised. John held her up tenderly, ignoring Miles for the minute.

‘Go and fetch the doctor,' he said to the manservant Albert, who was standing with the hysterical housemaid. She was wringing her hands and sobbing loudly, her mouth open slackly and the dribble joining the tears running down her face and chin.

‘You do anything of the sort and you are dismissed as well as him,' Miles shouted grimly.

Bertha suddenly raised her head. ‘You tried to kill me!' she screamed, gaining energy from her fury. ‘You did! You did! Get the police, John, he'll pay for this, I swear he'll pay! Go on, I'm all right.'

Miles was beyond reason now, all his plans unravelling. Why had that interfering old pitman turned up just as he had knocked Bertha to the ground? Any other woman would have been killed outright – he'd given her a blow that would have felled an ox. Wasn't it supposed to be John's day off anyway? Well, he wouldn't let the old pitman frustrate his plans, he would be damned if he did.

‘Hell's bells!' he shouted at Bertha. ‘You ugly old witch! Why didn't you die?' He went on and on, pouring out vitriol with Bertha paling at the viciousness of it.

‘Watch your mouth,' said John, his voice low and menacing. For all his age he lifted Bertha in his arms, which were still hardened by his years at the coal face, and started towards the house. ‘Howay, missus,' he said quietly, ‘you need a lie down, pet.' Looking over his shoulder he shouted again to Albert who was dithering by the side of the maid.

‘Hadaway and fetch the doctor and the polis when I tell you to!' The man scuttled off.

Miles suddenly went quiet. He was not going to wait here and have the police take hold of him, indeed he was not. He'd see all of them in hell first. No, he thought, his mind racing, he would get to the police first, tell them his stableman had gone stark staring mad. They would believe him before they believed an hysterical woman such as Bertha and the anarchic peasants who worked for him.

He rushed into the stable and came out leading his horse, Marcus II, which John had been saddling when the ruckus started. The ageing stallion was rolling his eyes and trembling, obviously upset by the shouting, but Miles jumped on his back and dug his heels in. It was then he saw Ben.

Ben had been standing at the corner of the house but now he stepped out in an effort to catch hold of the reins
and stop the horse, but Miles pulled at the reins, yanking viciously at them, trying to get past. The poor horse whinnied in panic and reared so that Miles, his feet not even properly in the stirrups yet, flew off. He fell heavily against the brick corner of the house and slid to the ground, his eyes wide open and staring at Ben with an expression of horror and shock.

Ben had not had time to seize the reins and nor did he now, for Marcus was off, galloping round the house, down the drive and out on to the road. Ben was left gazing down at the man he had hated so long, the man he now knew to be his father. But Miles was quite dead, his head against the bricks and a red stain slowly appearing on his collar. His head suddenly fell to one side and Ben jumped as Bertha began to scream.

It was a couple of hours before Ben managed to get away from Winnipeg Colliery. The village policeman had come with Albert leading Marcus. The horse was docile now and Albert led him round the opposite corner of the house and into the stable to avoid the body of his master.

Surprisingly, Bertha calmed down and gave the policeman an account of what had happened. ‘My husband was angry, Officer,' she said. ‘And his horse was startled when this gentleman appeared. Not that it was any fault of his. It was an accident.' John nodded his agreement with his mistress's story.

‘What was your business here, sir?' asked the policeman.

‘I lost my way, Officer,' said Ben, ‘and called in to ask directions to Canney Hill. I am a visitor from South Africa.'

There were more questions and he had to wait until a more senior police officer came from the town, but after all it was an accident, an unfortunate accident.

Tom and Merry had the precious afternoon to themselves and their love-making was urgent and all consuming. The ecstasy of Merry's feelings as she felt his hands on her breasts was almost too much to bear. Every nerve in her body responded to his touch after being so long denied. She had dreamed of this so many times since they were parted. And when it was over they lay together in each other's arms, drowsy and replete. She fell asleep and awoke in the same position, his arms around her, holding her almost as if he thought she might disappear.

Merry turned her head to gaze at him, his face smooth in sleep, his lips turned up slightly at the corners in a half smile. Oh, but he was so dear to her; waves of love swept over her. How could she have been away from him for so long? She marvelled at herself.

Tom opened his eyes and his arms tightened about her as he kissed her on the shoulder, the nape of her neck, her lips.

‘I love you, Merry,' he whispered. ‘I will never let you go again.' He echoed the very thoughts running through her own head.

They lay for a while, filled with contentment and satisfaction, and then Tom turned onto his back.

‘We need to talk,' he said. So now, in the fulfilment of their love, they were talking as they had never talked together before.

‘I have spoken to my father,' said Tom. They were sitting up against the pillows, he with his arm around her, Merry leaning on his shoulder.

‘I'm so sorry you had to go through it all,' he went on. ‘My father had no right to turn you away.'

Merry turned her head away, thinking of the time with Robbie Wright, the way Benjamin's early years had been so full of fear of his stepfather. She should not have put him through that; she was guilty too, she thought. All because she had been frightened of what the folk of the villages would say if she had a baby out of wedlock. Why hadn't she made more effort to get in touch with Tom? If only she had been stronger; if only she had trusted him more; if only she had taken her baby and left Robbie sooner – so many ‘if onlys'.

‘I don't want to make excuses for him. It's the way he is and nothing would change him in any case,' Tom was saying. ‘I don't think he will ever alter his opinions.' He raised himself on his elbow and leaned over her with a serious expression. ‘But we won't have to have much to do with him – we can go away. We don't even have to wait until you're free. This is the twentieth century and we need not stick to Victorian ideas.'

Tom paused, remembering the desolation he had felt when he discovered she had married Robbie Wright. He had had a need to get away from Winton and Eden Hope for he couldn't bear to see them together so he too had regrets but it was no good dwelling on them. ‘The future is what matters,' he said.

‘Yes,' said Merry. ‘The past is over. So long as the three of us are together.' It was true, she realised. She didn't care what difficulties they had to face in the days to come; they would manage to get through them. But what would Benny think about having Tom as a father? She suddenly sat up straight.

‘Benjamin! He's going to be home soon. I must get dressed. You too. He can't catch us like this.'

‘Well, maybe he'll have to get used to it,' Tom said, smiling lazily, but he got out of bed and started to dress. They didn't even have time to straighten the bed when there was a perfunctory knock on the door and it was opened almost at once.

‘Merry? Merry, are you there?'

Her brother Ben pushed open the bedroom door and pulled up short as he saw them both. The excited flush faded from his face as his glance took in the unmade bed and their state of undress.

‘I'll wait in the other room,' he said stiffly and went out, closing the door after him. His thoughts were in a whirl as he tried to cope with yet another shock. When Merry, followed by Tom, came out he was standing by the window.

‘As soon as Merry gets her divorce we will be married,' said Tom. ‘I mean to do right by your sister.' Ben stood silently, watching him and then turned to Merry.

‘He is my half-brother, for God's sake, and you are my sister, or as good as. You must realise that now, Merry so why?'

‘I love him, Ben,' she said simply. ‘Besides, I am not your sister, I am your niece.
You
know that. There is no reason—'

‘But he has already let you down once when he left you on your own with a bairn on the way!' he cried.

‘It wasn't his fault, he was ill, it was a mix-up, his father—' Her voice faltered, it was so hard to explain.

‘In spite of what his father did to me.'

‘Tom is not like his father,' Merry protested as Tom went to stand beside her and took her hand.

‘What are you talking about, man?' he demanded. He had listened to the two of them and some of what they said made little sense to him.

Ben turned to the looking glass hanging over the fireplace. ‘Come and stand here beside me,' he said to Tom who, after a glance at Merry, did so.

‘We could almost have been twins, don't you think? But for the age difference, that is,' asked Ben, trying hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice. ‘You are my half-brother, Tom. Your father raped my mother. And when he realised I was the result your father tried to hide the fact by sending me to a hell on the other side of the earth.' Ben marvelled at himself – he felt so in control that the rage, the search for vengeance were gone. Well, of course they were, he thought, Miles Gallagher was gone and he was free of him. Looking at Tom's image, he realised that indeed Tom was not like his father – he looked what he was, a kind, caring sort of man. Merry might just be all right with him. But oh, it would take a lot of getting used to.

‘What can I say? I knew nothing of any of this,' said Tom. But his logical mind had already worked out an important fact. ‘I am not related to Merry, am I? That is the important thing.'

‘No, that's true.' Ben bit his lip as he looked at Tom. ‘There's something else,' he said.

‘Nothing is going to part us now,' Merry warned, coming forward and taking hold of Tom's arm. ‘Don't try, Ben.'

‘I'm not going to.' He glanced away for a moment, marshalling his thoughts. In all that had happened since, Ben had not yet told Tom of his father's death. Now it had to be said and the only way was to state the facts plainly.

‘I have been to Winnipeg Colliery, Tom. I have to tell you that your father is dead. It was an accident.'

‘What?'

Tom and Merry spoke together. Her grip tightened on his arm. ‘Ben! You didn't—' She stopped as fear filled her.

‘No, Merry, I didn't do it. It was an accident, as I said.' Ben told them what had happened as Tom led Merry to the sofa and sat down with her, their hands tightly clasped.

‘I will have to go there straight away,' said Tom when he had finished. ‘I don't understand how it happened, my father was still a competent rider.' He was silent for a minute or two. ‘But if he had been rowing with Bertha – I know he had a terrible temper and he wasn't getting any younger.' He stopped and Ben realised he was just taking the news in and it was hitting him hard. Of course Tom had feelings for his father despite the man Miles had been.

‘Are you all right?' Ben asked.

Tom nodded. ‘Yes. It's just the shock, that's all. But I'd best be on my way.' He turned to Merry. ‘I'll be back,' he promised her, ‘if not tonight then tomorrow. We'll not be parted again.'

Merry watched out of the window as he drove away. As he turned the corner Benjamin came clattering up the stairs from Dr Macready's house.

‘Mam? Mam, what's for tea? I'm starving. Oh, Mam, the school is grand, I can't wait to—' he said then saw Ben standing there. ‘Uncle Ben!' he cried. ‘Are you staying?'

‘He's staying for a while,' said Merry. ‘Now come into the kitchen and I'll make you a sandwich to put you off, as tea's not ready yet.' She cut bread, buttered it and spread strawberry jam on it; Benjamin sat down at the kitchen table with it and a glass of milk. ‘Uncle Ben and I are just having a talk. You can tell me all about your new school when you've finished your sandwich,' she said and went back into the sitting room.

Ben was leaning forward in his chair, staring into the fire. He didn't look up when she went in.

‘What are you going to do now, Ben?' Merry asked him.

‘I've got a place in Durham now. I'll stay there a while. I think you and Benjamin should come with me. There will be less talk than if you live with Tom after all. Then
when your divorce comes through you two can make it all legal, can't you? It will be better for Benjamin too.'

‘I don't know,' said Merry. ‘I'll talk to Tom. Then there's Benjamin's school and the Macreadys to think about. They have been so good to me.'

‘Benjamin can still go to the Friends' School. And the Macreadys will understand. Of course they will.'

Merry was silent, thinking about it. Of course Ben was right. ‘I must go over to see them, Ben, and tell them what has happened. Will you stay with the lad?'

‘Of course.'

Later, with Benjamin in bed, Merry, Tom and Ben sat around the fire, Tom and Merry close together on the sofa with their hands clasped, and Ben on the easy chair. The Macreadys had gone back to their own house having come through to hear Ben's account of the happenings of the day for themselves. And Merry had told them she intended to move to Durham.