by Liz Hyder
I feel rayge and fury for the Mayker but I dunt feel no rayge for Thomas. I think back to those storyes I herd tell o wimmin being forced on down here and I am in trooth fayre grayteful that he lookd arfter me all this time.
But I must fayce things as they are now. I am a gel and not yet a wimmin and yet this is a wimminlee thing that I now suffers from.
I must use spayre cloth to wedge up tyte tween my legs to soke up what blood there be and chaynge it when I can. But I must be xtra cayreful at wash time so as no blood be seen anywhere on me.
Thomas promisses to help find rags for me. But we start wi my old sheet. Rip rip it up we do, tearin it apart and tearin off the bloody bits til only the clene bits are left.
Thomas says I must burn the rags arfter so as none kno. He says I carnt hide em cos o the rats so we lytes the blooded rags from whats left o the sheet and watch it turn into teeny flaymes bryte oringe and red and flick flickrin and I watch all I thawt I was turn to ashes too.
Maykers Day dos fly past lyke a blurrd dream harf rememberd harf forgot. I am diffrent in ways I never knew before. I looks around the Hall at all the fayces sing singin and I wonders if they can see me. See who I really am. What I really am.
I looks up at the Mayker and skwints so as I can see his fayce properlee. All the questions tumball in my head lyke coal out a basket. Thomas keeps his hand on my sholder as we sings and I feel better for it, the cramps are less today.
The canduls flicker around the Hall wi the breath o hundreds o men and lads. All o us singin to him. And I the only gel.
Arfter prayers we go to the layke. I ent swimmin in it today, not wi the monthlees and not arfter what happnd to Tobe.
I sit at the edge and listern to the layke insted lap lap lappin. I dips my tose in and lets the blind fish nibble at em.
I cut my hair as short as I can wi the nyfe that Thomas gayve me. Thomas offers to do it for me but I must needs do it myself. Tis hard work and I cut my skalp a few times.
When I am dun, I look at my reflekshun in the layke and I look lyke I always did. A Bearmouth boy. Scar on my nostril, eyes starin back at me but my fayce feels lyke a mask wi the real me hidden behind. I kno that boy ent who I am no more. I am Newt and I am a Bearmouth gel.
Dear Ma
I am well and I hope you are too. I ent shore you are gettin these letters but tis good praktiss to write them anyways.
I kno it costs to write wi payper and ink and all and the postidge postage but Id lyke to kno how you are and how Auntie Soo is and evryone else.
Tobe ent wi us no more neether. He drownd but I ent shore that was all it was trooth be told as Walsh, one o the manidgers, it was on his watch and Tobe had marks round his neck and all. Mayke o that what you will eh.
Theres a new lad too in our dorm nayme o Devlin. I thawt he was odd at first but now I think hes alryte.
Ent much else to say this end sayve I love you and hope you love me too and think o me when my coinage gets sayfely to you.
I am growin up fast says Thomas who also sends his best regards.
Please write back. Please.
Love as always
Newt
Newt Coombes. Newt Coombes, says Mr Sharp in a loud voyce at gruel on Beer Munday.
I dunt put my hand up ryte away lyke cos I harf forget that a trayler dos tayke there haggers surnayme and I ent used to hearin folk say it out loud see.
Walsh stands up in the mess hall and poynts at me.
Over there Mr Sharp, he says. That one I do believe.
You ent taykin Newt, growls Jack under his breath and Mr Sharp smyles at him.
It ent for the Deep, he says. The Master wants to see this one is all.
The mess goes ryte quiet all around us.
The Master, the Master, the whispers start up.
The Master? I says and Mr Sharp nods.
Says so dint I? Ryte away too so hurry up cos he ent a man to keep waytin.
Thomas taykes my hand in his. Tayke cayre Newt, he says, skweezin my hand.
My heart is fayre in my mouth as I leeves the mess hall and follows Mr Sharp long the rolley roads and up the next level. I ent shore where we is goin xactly but Mr Sharp he walks fast and tis a job to keep up wi him.
The Master hisself, Mr Johnson, the mythikal creeture. But Thomas did meet him and he was real and so I must meets him too. But my heart is all a flutter thinkin o why the Master myte want me, what bisness he could possiblee hav wi the lykes o me.
Faster and faster Mr Sharp walks as we go up and up past whole swaythes o the mine that I ent ever seen before. Groups o uvver men and lads and ponys work workin away, doin the sayme jobs as me but levels up. Colder it gets as we go up and the men ent workin harf dressd lyke most are on my level but fully dressd wi clothes on their top harf too.
Tis lyke a miracle to me that we all fits into the Maykers Hall, all these men, all these lads and I wonders if there are uvvers lyke me here. Uvver gels pretendin to be lads too. I want to stop and ask about their pumps and dorms, their mess halls and evrythin but Mr Sharp he just keeps on walkin walkin and I have to fayre run to keep up wi him.
The hyte o the mines is taller here too and you dunt have to croutch in the sayme way but I kno this ent the way to the Maykers Hall. Tis lyke a verytabel mayze lyke Thomas told us once in one o his storyes about a harf man harf beest and a mayze and a ball o string and I harf wonders if tis me who should have thawt to bring somethin wi me to find my way back.
We keep goin up and up and up along grayte long steepe roads and I loses track o what level we can even be on when the lyte becomes so steddy and bryte that it hurts my eyes.
Lecktrik, I breethes and Mr Sharp nods.
Wayte here for a moment to allow yore eyes to ajust, he says.
And I blink blinks at lytes far bryter than in the Maykers Hall, lytes that dunt flicker neether.
Lyke magick ent it? I whispers and Mr Sharp snorts ryte throo his nostrils and a bit o snot comes out.
Dunt always work, he says wipin the snot away wi a hankercheef. Tis unrelyaball tis what it is.
I skwints and blinks at the lytes and they seems too bryte for me to ever get customed to but Mr Sharp is off again and I follows him as best I can, blinkin as I do so.
Mr Sharps offiss is cold compayred to my floor. His is one o a series o wooden doors set deep into the rock. I counts em on my fingers – nyne in total. His door has a glass panel wi the word Overseer spelld onto it and Mr Sharp underneeth that. He sees me lookin at the letters and larfs.
Tis yore readin and writin and yore cleverness that dos bring you here, he says wi a grin fore he opens the door and ushers me throo.
The Master’s back is to me as I step in and he warms hisself by a small fire in the corner as if it wunt hot enuff as tis but there he is. Mr Johnson, spinky blue suit and lyke Thomas says a tall hat as high again as his own head.
The whole room is coverd in wood see, panels and panels o it all carvd lyke a gentilmans house, lyke magick. Theres a grene bayze coverd desk near the fire wi chayres eether side o it. Tis a syte to see and I dunt rytely kno what to look at first til Mr Sharp cleers his throte and the Master turns around.
Leeve us, he says commandin lyke and he wayves his rist wi a flikk as if Mr Sharp were no more than a teeny buzzin fly. Mr Sharp bends in two, doffin his own cap as he goes out backwuds, shuttin the door behind him.
The Master eyes me. He has a pinchd fayce wi poynted cheekbownes and a long nose. All beek and sharp and clever.
Sit, he commands and I do so on one o the chayres next to the big desk. He dunt sit hisself but watches me. He taykes his hat off and his hair underneeth is skwish skwashd flat black lyke a beetall wing.
Newt, he says slowlee, chewin over it. Funny nayme. Newt.
It ent my berth nayme Sir, I says. Niknayme from Thomas in my dorm but tis what Im known as now.
He smyles at me but his eyes narrow.
Confeedent little thing arnt you, he says.
I says nothin.
You mayke a seeriuss allegayshun in yore letter boy, he says finger tap tappin the letter.
I says nothin.
See Newt Coombes, you say in it that you suspect fowle play in Tobe Williamss death. Can you splayne yoreself to me please? he says matter o fact lyke.
There was marks round his neck Sir, I says. Cleer as day.
But it was reportd as an axident wasunt it?
Marks round his neck and drownd at the sayme time Sir, I says. A lad killin hisself two ways at the sayme time. Seems awfull funny dos that.
But I am not larfin, says the Master. Am I?
No, I mumbles.
Speke up boy, he says sharp lyke.
No Sir, I says cleerly.
He taykes a deep breath and then a big sigh. See I run a tyte ship here, he says, his finger tap taps on the letter. And I wuld very much lyke to improve the sayftee o this mine I wuld yet tis spensive so I have to ballents things up. Do I bring lectrick down to the furthest deeps knowin that twill be a wayste o money as the coal runs dry or should I rely on canduls down there?
He payces up and down.
Should I bring sayfety lamps down all parts o the mine when xpeerients says they arnt so sayfe arfter all? Should I equip all my workers wi better boots? He pauses for a moment. So many dialemmas you see that I fayce. So many. So should I promoat a man who seems very good at his job or should I get rid o him cos there are roomars about his behayvyer? What should I do Newt Coombes hmm? he says.
You talkin bout Walsh Sir, I says. That it?
He smyles at me. Walsh gets things dun Newt, one o the most produktiv manidgers Ive had here in a long time. So tell me, do I throw that away cos o one or two, shall we say, misdemeenurs or do I let it slip and leeve things as they are?
I says nothin.
The reputayshun o Bearmouth rests upon all o us here, he says. Mayker protekt us. And many o the things Id lyke to do here I carnt cos o the cost. And Bearmouth has got to be competittiv in todays markit. You understand?
I says nothin.
See Newt, it has come to my attenshun that you and the men in yore dorm, they have the potenshul to mayke trubble in the mine. You understand yes?
I says nothin.
One o them, Thomas is it, who I believe is the one who teeches you yore letters, and very nycely too I may say, he askd for a payrise. You understand that at leest?
I nod. But I still says nothin.
And Devlin, he says. What o that young man eh?
And Mayker forgive me if yore even there but I blush to my tippy tose.
Ah, says the Master watchin me wi his hawk eyes. Ah. Stand up, boy, he says wi his head on one side and I do so.
He comes over to me ryte up close and peers at me, fayce and beeky nose just inches away from me.
What a pretty thing you are, he says whisperin slowlee. And you lyke boys too yes? His hand reetches out and smooths my cheek. Not even a thin layer o down on it yet, he says. You are so young yoreself. A mere chylde is all.
His hand goes down my fayce and down my nek and tis cold his hand and I shivers. It stops on my chest in the mid and he holds his hand out flat against me. I fear for my life if he finds the nyfe that Thomas gayve me tyte in my pockit and I pray to the Mayker to sayve me even tho I ent trooly shore hes there no more.
But he stops there dos the Master. Hand on my chest lookin at me. Waytin.
The fire crackels in the grayte and he taykes his hand away and strokes my cheek again. He keeps his eyes on me still.
Such a pretty little thing, he mutters as he turns back to the desk and sits down. Sit, he commands again, wayvin his hand and so I do, heart thud thuddin in my chest and I realises I been holdin my breath all the time.
See Newt, he says. You could be very useful to me. Devlin is I think a bad inflooents and I think it wuld be advisaball for me to keep an eye on him. You understand?
I says nothin.
I only alloud him to come here cos o his farver, says the Master and then larfs to hisself. Im sorry, he says, the smyle wyped clene off his fayce. Just a little joke for my own amewsment. He reetches into his pockit and taykes out a coin, a real one, a shiny spinky clene goldern one so bryte it maykes me blink and he playces it cayrefullee on the desk in front o me.
See Newt, I could pay for informayshun about such things, he says quietly. I could pay handsumlee.
He slides the coin over towards me and trooth be told I ent ever seen such ritches in all my life. I swallows.
I am a direkt lyne to the Mayker, he says. A deesendant from the Mayker hisself so tis only ryte that you do what I ask. He smyles at me.
I hear his clok tick tickin to itself and the fire crackels and spits.
I got to be cayreful here, real cayreful see, I thinks to myself. I taykes a deep breath.
But there ent nothin to spy on tho Sir, I says and I tremballs as I do so. Thing is Sir, Thomas askd for a payrise and one was not forthcomin so tis the end o that. And Devlin he is merelee settlin in still. He ent tayken to bein a Bearmouth boy easy lyke but he will in time Im shore.
The Master looks at me as if hes tryin to see ryte throo me. He tuts to himself.
You understand Newt, no informayshun, no coin. He puts his finger out and slip slides the coin back towards hisself.
All o them ritches tayken away from me.
I wish there was somethin I could say Sir, I says. But I ent a liar and I ent goin to tayke money for lyin neether.
Ah, an honest pup, he says. Tis a cryin shayme tho as it dos meen I have to do this to yore letter home. I do hope you understand.
He taykes my letter and drops it lyke a fether into the fire and whoomph tis gone. A flicker o lyte and my writin dos turn to ashes.
I starts up but he motions me back to the chayre.
You see Newt, I must protekt the reputayshun o Bearmouth, he says smylin at me. So yore Ma must wayte for anuvver letter mustent she?
He leans across the desk. If you have anythin else to tell me chylde I suggest you say it now.
He leans back, arms folded tyte across his chest and waytes.
I says nothin as the twigs and sticks do spit and crackel in the fire.
Shayme, he says. Then he breethes in quick lyke and stands up wi a sigh.
You had yore chance, he says. I gavye you chances today, opportewnitees Coombes and it was you who didunt tayke em. Remember that.
He watches me for a moment. And I dunt kno ryte what to say to that so I says nothin, rayge growin in me at the thawt o my letter turnd to flaymes.
Sharp, he bellows and Mr Sharp comes runnin in.
We are dun here, he says. Return the chylde to where you found him.
Mr Sharp grabs my arm and fayre drags me out o there fore I can say anythin else. I want to spit in the Masters fayce I do, burnin my letter lyke that, tryin to get me to spy on my frends.
But his words echo round my head and my mouth is all dry.
But I kno what else I sees in there too. All them uvver letters, a whole pile o em stackd high on the desk. And I bets to myself that they are from uvver workers down here see. I bet they are. And he or Mr Sharp or someone has opend all o em to see whats bein sed about em. Usin em for spyin, usin em for their own purposses.
I feel angry but calm somehow. And I sees it cleerly now. The answers to the whys I been askin. The Maykers way is for the Masters gayne. The Mayker ent for us, the Mayker is for the Master. The Mayker, he ent even listernin. Not to me, not to any o us. Not for years and maybe, just maybe, he ent ever been listernin.
My mind feels lyke a teeny tiny chick braykin out o its shell.
There is a fire in my belly and lyke the pheenix in Thomass storyes, I am reborn anew.
As Mr Sharp returns me to the lower levels my brayne tryes to tayke in all that I see. There are more men down here than I ever seen in one go on the uvver side, fore I cayme to B
earmouth. I think o all the men in the Maykers Hall, hundreds o em, singin and prayin in the grayte Hall.
We ent alloud to mix wi uvver levels sayve on Maykers Day see, and we ent alloud more than can fit seated in caban to gather in any one go neether. Tis the rules o Bearmouth. But still Im thinkin it. There are so many men and yet so few manidgers. I counted no more than nyne doors incloodin Mr Sharps offiss. Addin it up, workers outnumbers overseers and manidgers by an awfull lot. An awfull lot.
And I think o what Devlin sed all that time ago. It taykes one person. Just one.
So many men and boys down here workin away flesh to bone and me the only gel. I puts my hand over my pockit and feels the chill smoothness o the nyfe that Thomas gayve me.
I will remember evrythin I see on my way back down. Evrythin.
Cos one person can be got rid o see and I fear tis what the Master is arfter, I fear he will hand me to Walsh for the Deep. I fear he is the one who will come for me. But I needs must tell the uvvers what I have seen, what I have herd. You may get rid o me but you carnt get rid o evry man, you carnt get rid o men thinkin diffrent to how youd lyke em to. Can you?
Mr Sharp taykes me back to mess but all the men are gone.
You kno yore way from here, he says and leeves me, belly rumblin at thawt o gruel but knowin that tis all gone for the day. Ent even pickd a crust for layter neether. But I got uvver things to think about now.
I nods to him, hand in my pockit and I heads down into the tunnels in the darkness lyke a mole to find Jack.
I needs must be cayreful now see, I do think to myself on my way down, listernin for footsteps and the lyke. Tis not only those in my dorm who has mayde enemees wi Walsh, seems to me we has also now mayde enemees wi the very Master hisself.
I think o the letter to Ma burn burnin up in the grayte and my fists clentch.
Coinage on payper, coinage on ink, coinage on postidge. Up in smoke. And worst o all Ma wunt hear nothin from me for anuvver six months now. I growl to myself and hear it round me.
If yore angry, Thomas told me once, if yore angry, tis best that you bottal it up, keep it focussd lyke and then use it for somethin.