i e6a2876c557e1281 (21 page)

I was saved from making any comment on this by Constance pulling at Sam and crying, "Come on, play. Uncle Sam, come on, play, and make houses." She was trying to pull him towards her blocks again when Don's voice brought her little fair head towards him as, dropping on to his hunkers and facing her, he said, "Come here and talk to your Uncle Don ... I'm your Uncle Don."

I found that my hand was gripping my forearm until it hurt, and as he put his hand out towards her a wave of faintness swept over me and I heard myself praying, "Oh, Holy Mary, dont let him touch her!"

But he did touch her. His hand took hers gently from Sam's trouser leg, and he turned her towards him. It was with a glad face that she stood between his knees. They looked at each other, and he touched her under the chin and said, "You know, you're a bonnie lass."

It was a phrase that any north country man would have used to a child, and Don's tone was that of any north country man talking to a child, but I knew that Don was no ordinary north country man. Some deep instinct told me to beware of even his kindest word.

But it was obvious that Constance liked him, for she put out a finger and touched the small moustache that he was now growing, and at the feel of it she laughed. Then, with a sudden agile movement in one so heavy, he swung up from his hunkers with her in his arms and I rushed towards them as if saving her from some danger. My hand was on her to pull her away from him when his fingers touched mine. His eyes left her face and his gaze held me for a brief second, but in that time it was as if my temperature dropped by degrees, as if I had been suddenly thrust into a refrigerator. I took my hands away and turned from her, and he put her down on the floor again, saying, in the most pleasant fashion, "Uncle Don will bring you something the morrow. What would you like? A doll?"

She nodded at him, laughing.

"A doll, like Patsy." She went to the cupboard and pulled out her box of toys and, taking from it a doll, she held it up to him saying, "Like Patsy."

oh, it'll be bigger than Patsy that big . " He stretched out his hands indicating the size. Then saying, " Well, I must be off," he turned towards the door, but when there, he looked back at Sam and remarked, "

You in with the deputy that you can afford to be late? "

Sam did not answer, but he turned and looked him straight in the face, and Don, saying nothing more, went out.

I found that I was trembling, shaking from head to foot. I looked at Sam but he would not meet my eyes and turned away and stood gazing into the fire until I said, "You will be late, Sam. I'm sorry I was so long."

He did not answer but made for the door, patting Constance's head as he passed her. He did not even say goodbye, and I remember thinking, Oh if he were only as old and as big as Don and could fight him. "

Don brought the doll for Constance, but he did not follow up his gift with daily visits. Sometimes a week would go by before he came in, and then all his talk and attention would be for the child. It would have appeared to an outsider that I did not exist for him, had never existed for him. But I knew differently, and was afraid.

One day as I was making a detour from the footbridge towards the hill, with a bag of groceries in each hand and Constance toddling by my side, a jeep drew up and the driver, leaning forward, said, "Hallo, there.

Would you like a lift?" I was on the point of saying, "No, thank you,"

when I recognized the man who had driven me to the hospital the night that Ronnie died. He was not young, near forty I should say, with a plain, ordinary face, relieved by two small, very bright eyes. Before I could say "Yes' or " No' he had jumped down and picked Constance up and placed her on the seat, and, taking my bags from me, he helped me up into the car. And that was my second meeting with Tom Tyler .

Tommy, as I came to call him.

He put me at my ease with regard to any ulterior motive of his kindness by showing me a photograph of his wife and two children. He was from Whitley Bay, which wasn't so far away, and he told me of some of the things he got up to in order to get long week-ends home. He said that Constance reminded him of his youngest, only, he added most generously, his youngster wasn't quite so bonnie. But having said, "They change as they get older," he laughed and added, "Not that yours will, missis."

It was the first time anyone had called me missis and it made me seem very old and reminded me forcibly that I was a mother. Little did I dream that day that Tommy was to have a finger in my destiny, that a suppressed lift of his hand was to be the signal for the second phase of my life to begin. But before this happened an incident was to occur that brought Sam and Don at each other's throats, to be followed by a pit disaster which cast a shadow on Sam's character.

The first happened when Sam came in one day and said, "Have you got such a thing as a sack, Christine? Old Miss Spiers has been after some coal. Me ma won't lend her our bucket and her's won't hold a shovelful. It would be easier for me if I could fill a sack and take it up."

"We haven't such a thing, Sam," I said, "I'm sorry."

At that moment the door opened and Dad came in, and he remarked, "What you sorry about? What haven't we got?" He stood taking off his coat and Sam said, "I was after a sack, Uncle Bill, to take Miss Spiers some coal along."

"We haven't got one, have we, Dad?"

Dad stood silent for a moment, then said, "Aye, we've got one, Sam, it's in the shed. I wrapped it up and stuck it back of the paint shelf thinking that one day it might give me a lead on Stinker. It's got a funny name on it, and I thought at the time, " You never know, if ever I see another one like that I'll know where this one came from. " But now you take it, Sam, it's no use worrying about things like that now, there's much more to worry about in the world the day, with people dying by the thousand. Aye, it's no use harbouring bitterness. You take it, Sam. Will I get it for you?"

"No, Uncle Bill, I'll get it. And thanks."

Our kitchen window looked down the length of the yard, and I saw Sam go into the shed and come out with a brown- paper parcel. I remembered the brown-paper parcel and my dad putting it there and saying, "Leave that be, Christine. It's only rags I've put away for when I start paintin'." I saw Sam take off the paper and shake out the sack, then I watched him spread it out on the yard, and from where I stood I could see the black painted marks on it, but not the words they made. Then I saw him turn and look swiftly up the yard. He saw me through the window and stared at me for a moment before picking up the sack and hurrying out. I heard his feet running up his yard and into the house, and within seconds his voice and that of Don's came through the kitchen wall, and to them was joined Aunt Phyllis's.

Dad and I looked at each other. Then Dad, going to the scullery, carefully opened our back door and stood listening. I joined him, and when Aunt Phyllis's kitchen door was pulled open the crack that it gave as it hit the wall sounded as if the wood had splintered. Then Don's voice filled the air, crying "You're bloody well mad!"

"Mad, am I?" I could not recognize Sam's voice, yet I knew it was he who was shouting, "All right, I'm mad, but you're insane. This explains everything. I've always had me suspicions, but now...."

"You're a bloody fool!" Don's tone had dropped and there was a conciliatory note in it as he said, "Get inside."

"Take your hands off me!"

"Come inside, will you, both of you, and stop that yelling!" It was Aunt Phyllis now, shouting from within the doorway.

"You bloody, dirty, mad swine!" I could not believe I was listening to Sam, Sam of the quiet voice and even temper, and when his words were cut sharply off and there came only the sound of scraping feet I knew that they were fighting. I clutched at Dad and whispered, "Oh, Dad, go on in and stop them, he'll kill Sam."

I saw Dad hesitate; then he said, "I dont know so much about that.

Sam's as strong as a horse, and the other's bloated with beer and. "

He stopped.

"But, Dad, he's only half his size."

As the sickening thud of blows and heavy breathing came over the wall.

Dad ran down the backyard, and the next second his voice came to me, shouting, "Break it up! Break it up! Sam! Sam, do you hear, stop it!

leave over! "

There was some more scuffling, and then Dad came into the yard again, pushing Sam before him. Sam's face was covered with blood coming from a split in his upper lip.

"Oh! Sam." I led him into the scullery, saying, "What's it all about?

What's happened? You should never have started on him. "

When I poured the water into the dish he swilled his face with it, then took the towel from my hand and pressed it over his mouth. But he didn't tell me what the row was about, nor did he tell Dad. And I didn't inquire further. Anything connected with Don I naturally shied from. It didn't occur to me to connect the row with the sack.

Three months later there was an explosion in the mine and four men died. Others were dragged out just in the nick of time, and one of these was Don. He was three days in hospital, and Aunt Phyllis haunted the place night and day. Sam, too, had been in the explosion, but had got out without any ill effects from the gas. Yet the experience had told on him, for he seemed to have changed overnight and was quiet, even with me and the child. He was usually quiet, I knew, with everyone else, but with me he had always been at ease, and we generally talked and jabbered together. But following the accident he said little.

Part of the wood was still standing, the remainder had been hewn down by the air force, to enlarge their camp. But I often took Constance to the first bay, the only one left, and there we would sit on the grass and she would play and romp while I knitted or just sat and watched her. Often Sam

M3

would come with us. He had today. Constance loved him to come along because he played and gambolled with her, but on this day he didn't play but sat by my side, his knees up, his hands hanging in their usual position.

"Aren't you feeling well, Sam?" I asked.

"Aye, I'm all right," he answered.

I said no more. It was well known that a man's first disaster always affected him. Some got over it quickly and used it as experience. But with others it left a mark, and I felt this one had done so on Sam. He had always been afraid of the dark, no matter how bravely he faced it.

Constance, being tired after so much playing, he gave her a piggy-back home, and he had hardly dropped her from his shoulders on to the floor when, without any knocking, the back door through which we had just entered was burst open and Don stalked into the kitchen.

In lowering Constance to the floor Sam had bent over back wards, but now, as if released by a spring, he shot up straight, and I was not mistaken when I saw a look of fear flit across his face at the sight of his brother.

Ay. aye. We. ell! "

The two words were drawn out, and it seemed as if Don was singing them.

Sam did not speak, and Don, with no singsong inflection to his words now, said, "You pleased to see me?" He took a step forward, but Sam did not retreat, he only said, "What d'you mean?"

"What do I mean? You treacherous bugger! For two pins I'd brain you where you stand."

At the sound of Don's threatening voice Constance gave a whimpering cry, and I gathered her swiftly up into my arms before saying, "Now look, Don, I want no rowing in here."

"Do you know what he tried to do?" Don was speaking to me but he did not move his eyes from Sam and his face was convulsed with such fury that it looked as if it would burst at any moment.

"He tried to kill me!"

I could not stop my eyes flicking in startled inquiry to Sam. Sam's face told me nothing, but there was no vestige of fear on it now, and he exclaimed, quickly, "You're mad!"

"Mad am I? Well, you'll be a bloody sight madder by the time I've finished with you!"

"I dont know what you're on about."

"Oh, no? I was almost gasping me last when we reached the air door.

You didn't go through it and bang it shut, did you? Oh, no! If it hadn't been for Steve Moreton comin' back to see if we were all out I'd have been a gonner. And you told him you were the last, didn't you ?

"I dont know what I told him, I was overcome me self

"You were overcome yourself ... you were so bad that they let you come straight home. You bloody ...!"

As he made a lunge towards Sam I rushed in front of him, crying, "No, you dont, not in here!"

Don drew in a deep breath, then exclaimed, "All right, all right. Have it your way. Not in here, but I'll get him, one way or tother, I'll get him. In a day or so he'll not be able to raise his head in this town again. Steve Moreton has a big gob and I'll see that he opens it.

Aye, you treacherous bugger, I will. "

He swung about, and when I heard the back-door close on him, I looked at Sam and saw that he appeared about to pass out. He sank down on the couch and buried his face in his hands.

Dropping Constance on to the floor I went quickly to him and put my arm about his shoulder.

"What is it, Sam? Can I get you something?

Don't worry, I dont believe a word he says, nor will anybody else.

He's mad, as you said. "

Nor did I believe what Don had accused Sam of, because it was the greatest crime a pitman could commit. No pitman, even of the worst character, would leave another to die. In the moment of crisis when wits are scattered by shock there may be a temporary pandemonium, but I knew from Dad's talk and that of other men that no man down the pit would leave his mate if he was in need and every man became another man's mate in a disaster. A man would stick to another who needed help closer than a mother would.

Sam was moving his head back and forth in a despairing fashion and I repeated, "Don't worry, nobody will take any notice what he says or Steve Moreton. You've only got to tell them your side of it and they'll believe you."