by Susan Hill
‘I wish you weren’t down the pit,’ Rose said quietly. ‘I fear for you every day.’
Ted shook his head. ‘We’ve had our turn.’
‘Doesn’t follow. Wouldn’t you rather be up there, out in the open with the sheep?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you should go back.’
He left the room without a word. But when Rose went out just after eight o’clock that Friday night, he stood at the window watching her go and nursing a dark tight fear inside himself, because she was meeting Lem Roker and he believed that she would flaunt herself with him carelessly at the Institute rooms. He had known little of Charlie and that little he had not greatly liked, but he wanted order in a world which had so recently been blown apart and scattered and his sister’s marriage represented that order.
Just before half past eleven he went out. The night smelled cold and the trails and whorls of stars were mirror bright in the dark sky. The music of the band came up the terrace through the open windows and door. Ted leaned back into the shadows when it stopped and almost at once people started to come out, talking and laughing. There were plenty before Rose and Lem Roker and then they came out, sidling past a gang of others who were singing. The man’s hand was on her arm. Ted waited. Watched. Followed. And then they were out of sight, somewhere away from the rest and shielded by the darkness.
He did not know what to believe. If Rose had told him the truth, then he had no worry and he should not be following them. If she had not, what could he do? But he felt it keenly that he was the only man in the Lower Terrace house now, the only one to defend his sister against the spiteful tongues and stand up for her to Evie. The only one Rose could rely on. But perhaps she neither needed nor wanted him.
The dancers separated and floated home like clouds parting and being blown away, and in minutes the lights had gone out in the Institute rooms and Mount of Zeal was silent again. The stars burned bright and cold.
14
IT WAS WELL into autumn before Ted was on Lem Roker’s shift. It came about one September dawn when he was walking through the soft air and thinking of how it smelled and how it would be on the hill among the sheep, how their coats would be pearled with drops of moisture and the spiders’ webs dewy on the gate. The mist would be a ghostly shawl over the high ground.
The sound of his boots joined that of all the others making their way down the terraces to the hollow where the pithead workings loomed up, and then he saw Lem not far ahead, his height and odd rolling walk marking him out from the rest. In the press of men going down in the cage Ted was on the far side from him, but at the crossroads the foreman pointed. ‘With Roker and Leach on Nine Avenue. Your lamp’s not set straight.’
They were flat out all morning and spoke little, though the usual jokes went to and fro, and the warnings were shouted above the racket of the carts going down. Ted was still not used to the heat and the dense closeness of the air. Sweat ran down his body from the time they got down to the time they arrived back at the top. Roker watched him, corrected this or that, but Ted had learned fast and needed little supervision now. They both had their heads down and barely made contact.
The trouble started up after they stopped to eat. Roker was a dozen yards away across the truck rails, sitting on the floor. Ted ate with his back against an outcrop, his bait tin on the ground beside him, his tea can already empty. Thirst was the first thing they had to slake. Food came way behind. Two men had a dice game going on the floor. Roker and several others were bandying words about women. Ted barely listened. The heat made him so tired he almost fell asleep as soon as he sat down every day. The rest were used to it.
It was his sister’s name that woke him.
‘I heard about that, Lem Roker. You’re a sly one.’
‘Why?’
‘Still married to a manager is Rose.’
‘I know that. Married but not married.’
Ted stood up but it was dark between them and they hadn’t noticed him.
‘You’re not telling me she’d look at you.’
‘Family’s a pit family. Why not?’
But it was too close to talk of the disaster and deaths and no one allowed it below. Ted waited but they went on to some other thing, the management, the way you could be cheated, the likelihood of flooding, new safety rules. He hesitated, then returned to his place and packed up his bait tin. A minute later, the bell sounded.
He wanted to tackle Rose as soon as he got home but she had taken the bus with Evie to buy winter coats, the first for seven years, and by the time they got back Ted was asleep in bed. The next day and the next he was on early shift. It was Thursday before he was alone with his sister.
‘It was only jesting,’ Rose said. ‘Men say anything to make themselves big.’
‘I don’t like to hear those things said about you. It brings disgrace. It makes people turn and stare.’
‘Let them.’
‘You don’t mean that. You hate it when there’s tattling tongues, you always said so. I hate it, Rosie. We’ve never had anything to be ashamed of.’
‘Still haven’t. I’m not going without any fun or attention. Maybe you should try that.’
‘It was the way he talked about you.’
‘Lem means no harm. Leave it alone. And don’t say any word to Ma.’
He had fully intended to put it from his mind. Rose was a grown woman so he had better interfere no more. But the week after, Lem was talking again, this time as they were pouring out of the gates and up the slope to home. He was a few behind Ted but his voice carried and he was laughing about taking Rose to the dance that Friday.
‘You’re one for tripping to the music,’ someone said. ‘Never saw what that was about.’
‘Not the music though, is it, Lem?’
Laughter. Ted broke step with his own companions and walked slowly to hear the others better.
‘It is and it isn’t.’
‘Get on. I’ve seen you.’
‘Nice and easy, Rosie. Married woman, isn’t she.’
Ted reached him, and stood in his path. The others slowed and hesitated, looking uneasy.
‘Who are you, Lem Roker? You take what you just said back or I’ll ram it down your throat.’
There were murmurs. ‘Steady on.’ ‘Now then, Ted.’ ‘Leave it alone, boy.’ But he swung round on them with his fists up and they retreated, save for Robbie Calder who took his arm and urged him away. Ted shook him off. Lem Roker stood his ground, smirking.
‘Take back what I just heard you say about Rose.’
‘Or?’
More muttering. ‘Ted, leave it. Let it drop, he didn’t mean anything.’
‘He meant everything. Now take it back.’
Now Roker laughed. ‘Young Ted. Trouble is, you’re wet behind the ears, you know nothing but sheep and sheep don’t teach you the facts of life.’
His laugh was taken up by others and one or two had come back to find out what was happening. But still the sensible few were urging Ted away.
‘Take back what you said or I’ll do for you, Lem Roker.’
Lem roared with laughter, throwing his head back, his open mouth showing fine strong teeth.
‘I’ve nothing to fear from you, boy Ted, and besides, why should I take back the truth? Rose is a nice easy girl and ready for whoever wants her and you know it.’
The blow Ted struck had his full weight behind it but that weight could not have caused such damage – he had grown and he was stronger, but he was still slight, more nerve and sinew than muscle and strength. But he hit out straight and quickly, catching Lem off balance and causing him to stagger backwards and fall, and in falling, hit the side of his head on the low boundary wall. It made a cracking sound like stone on stone and the man lay still instantly, leaden, without a twitch or a breath. A trickle of blood wound like a worm from behind his ear and crawled over the path.
There were a few seconds of terrible silence and then Ted ran. It seemed that he ran as f
ast as man or boy had ever run, bounding up the paths from terrace to terrace until he reached Paradise and then he was away and out of sight, and the men were all turned to the body of Lem Roker, for body they knew that it was and no longer a living breathing man. One went to the pit foreman’s office and the telephone, two others knelt and put a jacket under the head, another bent to listen for the faintest breath or heartbeat. The rest of them just stood about, grey-faced, and then front doors and windows were opened and women began to come out. And in all the time it took for the doctor to arrive, not one of them made a move to go after Ted, who had killed and run away.
PART FOUR
15
ROSE CAME EVERY week to the prison, travelling by bus and train and taking hours.
‘I never expected to see you again,’ Ted told her the first time. And it was the truth.
‘It was a dreadful mistake, that’s all. You were standing up for me and there was an accident.’
Ted had felt his fist connect with Lem Roker’s jaw, bone on bone, and then the sound of his head as it hit the stone. He would have done the same thing again so it was surely not an accident, but neither had he meant to kill the man. He regretted running away, too, the moment he stood by the farm gate, his chest heaving as he tried to get his breath. He had gone mad and now he had come to. There had been a couple of men coming up the track to fetch him and he had saved them the trouble of climbing further by waving his arms and going towards them. Neither of them had spoken and they had not attempted to restrain him in any way. They had simply walked together back into the village and every house door had been open and in every doorway someone stood watching, watching, in silence.
Evie had been with Rose inside the house, Evie weeping, Rose white-faced and holding herself stiffly as if she kept her limbs together only with the greatest effort.
‘What have you done, what have you done, Ted?’
‘I wasn’t hearing him say those things. I couldn’t let him talk like that, how could I?’
Rose had stood up then and put her arms tightly round him and the strength and warmth of her had said everything to him. He was to know it again only once more in his life.
‘Grandfather’s voice came back to him,’ Rose said now. ‘We hadn’t told him anything but people came into the house and of course he heard everything, and one night he started to read aloud again.’
She was twisting her gloves together, knotting the fingers and untying them and twisting them the other way.
‘But maybe he never lost it. He just wanted to be silent.’
‘Maybe.’
‘There aren’t any miracles, Rosie.’
He saw fear in her eyes.
‘But you didn’t mean it, you can’t have meant it, so there’s nothing to trouble you, is there?’
‘I caused a man to die. I’ll be kept in prison for a good long time.’
‘But that’s the . . .’ She stopped and they did not dare to look at one another.
‘Do they feed you well enough?’
‘It’s hot, it’s plenty. You can’t hope for home cooking.’
‘No.’
‘Never mind about me, what’s happening to you? Are you back working in the shop?’
‘They’d hardly have me now, would they?’
‘Because you’ve a brother in prison? That’s wrong, that’s not your fault.’
‘They see it as my fault. If I hadn’t gone dancing . . .’
‘So you stay at home with Mam all day.’
‘I see Mary sometimes. She’s been a good friend to me. I have to be at home for them, Ted. She’s in no fit state. She cries a lot. She doesn’t sleep at night.’
‘I’m sorry. I wish I could tell her. Will you ask her to come, Rosie?’
But Rose shook her head. ‘She couldn’t do it. You haven’t seen her these four months, you wouldn’t know.’
‘At least tell her I’m sorry. Do that.’
‘I’ve said it to her. She doesn’t take much in.’
‘What do you mean? That her mind has gone?’
‘Not that. She doesn’t want to take it in. She doesn’t want to talk about any of it.’
He knew what she meant now. He thought about it in the grey exercise yard, walking round the asphalt, and when he sat in front of his tin tray of dirty-looking potato and meat with thin gravy. He thought about it lying on his bunk hearing the clattering and clanging of footsteps on iron staircases and great metal doors and buckets and tins. She didn’t want to hear his name. It was easier. She could shut out what had happened by shutting out him until in the end she forgot he had ever been. If she so much as asked a question about him when Rose returned from visiting it would bring him back to life and she wanted him dead to her.
She would not attend his trial. Would Rose?
16
ROSE DID. SHE came every day of his trial, which was short, sitting in a place on the public benches where he could see her clearly. He got strength from that, as she had known he would. When he was brought into the dock, the first thing he did was look round until he saw her and waited for her to smile. He could tell how hard it was for her, how she had to force the smile and try not to look afraid.
They brought witnesses one after the other to speak against him, though they had in fairness to agree when asked that he had never been violent or angry previously, never to their knowledge started any fight or lashed out at a man. When Charlie Minns was called he gave Rose a mean and bitter look before telling lies about his wife and how she had behaved, how she had started going with Lem Roker almost as soon as setting eyes on him, neglected her home and duties, ignored her husband, been seen by countless people at different times on the man’s arm, dancing with him, walking out. Ted saw his sister’s face flush not with shame but with anger, and his own blood surged up to boiling inside him, so that once, the officer at his side sensed it and leaned over to warn him. Ted wanted to leap over and attack Charlie as he had attacked Roker, but when his turn came to go into the box, his words were clear and spoken out so that no one could fail to hear him. He had defended his sister, he said, and he was not sorry for that, and yes, he would defend her and her name and reputation as often as he had to against the slander and lies told. And yes, he had been angry, and wanted to teach Roker a lesson he would not forget, and yes, he had hit him. But no, he had never meant to kill him. He did not believe that he was capable of wanting to cause the death of any man.
From time to time Ted shuddered, with cold and with a flash of realisation – where he was, how he had come to be here, what was happening. What would happen. His counsel had been calm and serious but occasionally had grinned with uneven, yellowish teeth, through which he had said how sure he was that all would be well. Ted had reached out to clutch at his words and hold them tightly to him. The next time they met, the man had looked grave and not shown his teeth.
On the final day he began to have moments of being elsewhere, on the top of the hill in a high wind, in the shed bending over a distressed ewe, and then back in time, to his classroom and to the window seat in which he had sat day after day hearing Reuben reading from the black Bible. He was overwhelmed by the smells of each place, and the texture of things, the coarseness of the matted sheep’s wool beneath his hand and the smokiness that filled the small front room when the coal fire did not catch right. He came to as if out of a deeply dreaming sleep each time, wondering where he was. But only for the blink of an eye. Reality was overpowering.
He listened carefully but the words made no sense. They were making speeches about him but they had nothing to do with him. The man they talked about was not even a man he knew.
And then there was a silence, and in that silence, he looked across at Rose. Her face was different, the eyes larger but sunken so far in that they were difficult to see. Her skin was the grey-white of the sheep’s wool.
The jury had come back. The foreman answered the questions put to him.
More silence. Deeper silence.
And then a terrible mass intake of breath as the judge, sitting ahead and slightly above him, lifted the square of black silk. Ted, watching, saw that time slowed and every movement slowed so that it took hours for the black cap to be taken up and raised in the man’s hand until it reached head level and then above the head and was put down to rest on the top of the wig, the wig which was the same colour as the fleece of the sheep, too, and there it rested, hideously dark, hideously still, indelible.
Hours passed before the judge spoke, and in those hours, Ted was in a vortex of the past, in school, in the scullery, in his grandparents’ house on Paradise, beside Alice who was dying and then dead, on the terraces winding down Mount of Zeal, in the cage inching down to the Devil’s pit, on the hill, in the drift of heavy snow and frozen to the gate, and in the bedroom at the farm with the snow blinding white on the white wall. His ears rang.
‘. . . you are sentenced to be taken hence to the prison in which you were last confined and from there to a place of execution where you will be hanged by the neck until dead . . .’
17
MOUNT OF ZEAL drew in upon itself, Lower melding with Middle, and Paradise seeming to bend down and embrace them. There were no divisions now and not a paper to put between households in their concern for the Howkers. Evie was watched over and tended to night and day by this woman or that, cleaning done, food prepared and cooked or brought hot on trays under white cloths. Rose worked with whoever came, from morning till night, and in the night, sat at the window looking out, as Ted had always done, her conscience shredded by what was her fault in the end and only hers. She ate little, went from cushion to wishbone in a few weeks, as if the flesh had been scraped away. Evie scarcely spoke but sat all day with her head bent, or stood at the open doorway, staring, staring above Paradise to the green-grey line of the hill. The doctor had given her a draught to help her sleep and it plunged her from full wakefulness into oblivion, and brought her back, like a diver to the surface, with the same ruthlessness.