A Million Tears (The Tears Series)

by Paul Henke

  It took me a second or two to reply but it was long enough for her to repeat harshly: ‘Understand, Dai?’

  ‘Yes, Mam, I understand.’ I left a few minutes later, before Sion was out of bed. Mam intended keeping him at home all day.

  A watery sun was half a diameter below the hillside, the sky was cloudless and there was hardly a breath of air moving. There had been a heavy frost, the day was bracing and made me feel it was good to be alive.

  I felt guilty when I passed the cemetery and looked up at what I thought was Sian’s grave. I had still not taken her flowers or a plant, and I promised to do so as soon as possible. Further along the road the feeling of excitement returned. I walked at a steady pace, feeling better than I had done for a long time.

  There was quite a crowd at the mine gates, mostly men but a few women too. The boys of my age were on the outskirts; just about all the gang was there. I found Cliff, and we hung around watching what was going on and keeping out of the way.

  From time to time one of the strike leaders like Ivan Thomas or Uncle Huw got on a box and spoke to the gathering. They said nothing new or interesting. They only spoke of the need for solidarity, keeping the scabs out and said that the strikers should not use force unless the militia did first. Some of the men were armed with sticks and staves, poor weapons against guns.

  One of the men said, ‘Don’t worry, the scabs won’t be here today and perhaps not tomorrow either, even though they’re on the way.’ Some of the crowd laughed. Shortly after this Cliff nudged me and nodded to the edge of the crowd.

  In dribs and drabs men were sneaking away. My initial thought was that they were a cowardly lot who did not want to stay and fight. But then I realised they were the die-hards, as Grandad called them, Thomas, Williams, Uncle Huw, Stevens, Pratt and a dozen or so others.

  ‘Come on,’ whispered Cliff. ‘Let’s follow and see where they’re going.’

  ‘I shouldn’t,’ I whispered back. ‘I promised Mam I’d stay out of trouble.’

  ‘I promised mine as well. But we aren’t going into trouble are we? We’re just going to see what’s going on. We can stay in the background, hidden like, and just watch.’ He snorted, ‘course if you’re a scaredy cat . . .’

  ‘I’m not. It’s just that . . . Oh well,’ I sighed. ‘Let’s go.’

  Carefully we edged away. With only two of us there was little chance of being seen. The men were at the river bank, going downstream, when we followed.

  My heart was hammering, my nerves stretched as tight as bow strings when somebody yelled, ‘Hey you.’ We looked back to see a man gesturing for us to come back. We turned, slipped, skidded and half fell down the steep incline. We ran and within seconds were hidden from the top by a turn in the Taff and high leafless bramble bushes. We hurried along but soon I was out of breath and sweating.

  ‘Got to stop,’ I gasped. I took some deep breaths. ‘Sorry Cliff, the pneumonia, look you.’ I got my breath back and we continued. Cliff was frowning in frustration.

  ‘You go on if you want to and I’ll follow,’ I suggested. ‘I don’t want to hold you back.’

  ‘Naw, it’s all right, I don’t mind. Honest I don’t. It’s just if you could walk a bit faster we might see where they go, like.’

  I stepped up my pace. We carried on for about twenty minutes. I kept silent, saving my breath. We passed a few hundred yards away from the school, the slag now hidden from view. Spurred on by memories of the place, I found the breath and energy to run the next quarter of a mile. We passed the shallows where I went for coal and reached the road leading up the hill near where we lived. We paused.

  ‘Which way do you reckon?’ asked Cliff.

  ‘I dunno. I guess we can’t be far behind. If they’d gone up there or crossed the river we’d see them.’ I frowned. ‘And why come along the river bank if they wanted to go up either way? They must have gone straight on.’

  We followed the river further, hoping for a glimpse of someone soon. Although we hurried and occasionally ran, we saw nobody. Excitement at what we might see wore off a mile past our houses, and though I was not out of breath or tired, I felt like stopping.

  We had left the last of the houses behind us. The next place would be Eglwsarn and then continuous streets of houses like ours all the way to Pontypridd. The floor of the valley broadened out a little; the area was overgrown with brambles and other bushes. Many had shed their leaves, stripped by the heavy rain and approach of winter but others still retained some, brown and red, curling and dying. The ground was damp underfoot, soggy after absorbing so much water in the previous weeks. I was glad I wore gum boots and thick socks.

  Another mile and we could see Eglwsarn. We stopped, hesitant about going further.

  ‘What do you think, Dai?’ Cliff asked.

  ‘I dunno. What do you think?’ I responded.

  ‘I dunno. There’s nowhere else they could have gone, is there?’

  I pulled a face. ‘I guess not. We’ve come a long way haven’t we? What time do you think it is?’

  He shrugged. ‘I guess it’s well after dinner time. Mam will be getting worried.’

  ‘I think you’re right. Should we go back now or go on a bit further?’

  Again the shrug and the pensive frown. ‘I guess we ought to but we’ve come this far . . .’

  I nodded. ‘I know we have, but how much further do we have to go? The scabs might have already got here by now and we might be missing it all.’

  ‘Look you, I heard they were coming up from Cardiff by train and getting here this afternoon. And we haven’t heard a train yet, have we? We wouldn’t have missed it.’

  I nodded in agreement. I was sure the men had gone this way but how far had they gone?

  ‘I tell you what, Cliff. Let’s go as far as Eglwsarn and no further. If we don’t see them we’ll go up to the road and walk home. What do you say?’

  He nodded. ‘That’s fine with me. What about you? Do you think you can make it?’

  I nodded that I could. So far the river had been partially hidden by bushes still bearing some leaves in spite of the time of year, but now they thinned out and the path went closer to the bank; the water, black and uninviting, gurgled at our feet. Across the river we saw the railway bank and from time to time as the rails dipped or the river bank went higher we could see the gleaming ribbons of track.

  Cliff suddenly grabbed my arm and pointed. We had found the men. We were so surprised for a moment or two we stood still and then ducked behind a thick, leafless bush. At first their actions puzzled us.

  We could see some of them shoving posts into the ground and hanging sacking or something like sacking between them. We started to move carefully along the bank, hidden by the bushes. Finally we were close enough to read the crudely painted sacks. “Scabs go back.” “Scabs go home.” “Death to scabs.” “Down with the militia.”

  I felt disappointed we had come so far only to see that. But why come so far down river just to put up a few signs?

  ‘You know when that man said something about the scabs not getting here today I thought something really exciting was going to happen. This isn’t going to stop them is it, Cliff ?’

  ‘I don’t think so, look you.’

  I sighed, thinking of the walk back. I looked up at the sun and guessed it was the middle of the afternoon. ‘Should we go home now?’

  ‘I dunno. Let’s wait and see if anything else happens.’

  Where the men stood the track curved, following the river about twenty yards from the water’s edge. There were two signs on the curve and two immediately before it. Further back, now hidden by the bend, we had passed four men. They had not been putting up signs. We went back to take another look at what they were doing. ‘I think they’re doing something to the track,’ I said.

  ‘It looks like it, bach. What’s that they’re pushing and pulling on do you think?’

  ‘I dunno,’ I replied, not daring to suggest a crow bar in case Cliff laughed at me.
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  ‘Remember what the man said back at the mine?’

  I nodded. ‘And why come all this way down river just to stick up a few stupid signs?’

  ‘Do you think,’ Cliff hesitated. ‘Do you think they’re going to . . . to stop the train?’

  The idea was so staggering it took my breath away. Excitement gripped me. The men did not take much longer. They removed their boots, rolled up their trousers and recrossed the river. Silently, with odd looks on their faces, they replaced their boots and left. I wondered if they felt the awfulness of what they were doing. Sabotage of this sort carried a heavy penalty.

  We stayed hidden until they passed out of sight. Then I followed Cliff down to the water’s edge. I removed my boots but then remembered I was not to wade in the river. ‘I’d better not go,’ I said with a disappointed sigh. ‘Not after what happened.’

  ‘Aw, come on man, you can’t back out now.’

  I hesitated, tempted. Reluctantly I shook my head. The memory of my illness was too fresh in my mind. ‘I better not, see. Just in case.’

  ‘I’ll carry you if you like.’

  I was tempted further but one look at the racing current and I knew he could never manage to carry me. ‘I’d better not, Cliff. You go on and I’ll stay here and keep watch. I’ll whistle if I see or hear anything.’

  He shrugged and turned away. I watched him cross, stumbling and nearly falling more than once. I cursed my illness for not letting me see our adventure through to the end.

  On the other side, Cliff followed the track, reading every sign, and then turned the bend. He knelt, looked at me, jumped up and began running back to the river. He was half way across when he started talking.

  ‘It’s like we thought. It’s like we thought,’ he repeated. ‘You should see it Dai.’ He pulled on his boots as fast as he could.

  ‘Tell me then,’ I said, annoyed.

  ‘Hurry boyo, we gotta go. I heard the train sort of vibrating on the line . . .’ As he spoke we heard the whistle and knew it was at the Treces tunnel, less than a mile away.

  ‘Come on, up to the road,’ I suggested. ‘Once we get there we can see what happens.’ We had started away from the river when Cliff grabbed my arm excitedly and pointed.

  ‘The track Dai, the track. It’s been forced off to one side and down like. Golly, there’s the train.’

  We paused to look back at the smoking train. We began to run as fast as we could, the brambles and stinging nettles whipped at our legs. We were halfway to the road when we stopped again. The train was approaching the bend about five hundred yards from us. We saw the packed carriages, the first four coaches with men in ordinary working clothes, the last four with men in uniform. We saw the guns. The train slowed for the bend. When the men saw the signs a great jeering and booing went up and the train driver blew his whistle. Suddenly there was a screech which built up to a scream of locked wheels sliding on metal. The men fell silent as the train slowed rapidly but could not stop in time.

  The engine lurched, bounced and stopped. It angled over slightly, paused and slowly turned onto its side. Steam escaped with a loud hissing noise, but was quickly masked by the screams of the men inside the carriages as one after the other they overturned. Three went onto their sides, the fourth went half way, but the last four stayed upright, though one jumped the track. Screams mingled with loud curses as the militia tried to get their men into some semblance of order. We watched them line up, face outwards, rifles at the ready. Some civilians crawled out of the carriages and staggered away from the train. The screams died down to moans and shouts for help. The militia began to break into the carriages to help those trapped.

  I felt no sympathy for the injured, in spite of one or two being covered in blood and needing help to reach the ground. These men had come to break the strike. They deserved anything they got as far as I was concerned.

  I did not realise what was happening at first when some of the militiamen broke into small groups and spread out. With a shock I saw they were starting search parties. Without a word we turned and left quickly.

  The hillside became steeper and the bushes thinner the closer we got to the road and finally we had to stop. Any further and there was a good chance that we’d be seen. Disconcerted we looked at each other in dismay.

  ‘They’ll see us,’ I whispered to Cliff. The nearest search party now began to cross the river, about seven hundred yards away. ‘We could make a dash for it. They might not see us. And anyway, what if they did? They’ll never catch us from there.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ said Cliff, ‘but they might try and shoot us.’ It was a terrifying thought. ‘Or they might see us and then search all the houses, find us and blame us for what happened.’

  I looked back. It was impossible to recognise anybody at that distance until Cliff suggested they might have a spy glass. With a sigh, no further answer available, we began crawling and shuffling along just below the road and still hidden by bushes. The sodden ground wet our knees and hands, stones and sticks scraped and hurt but we kept at it for about three hundred yards until we reached a bend. Out of sight we stood up and darted onto the road, crossing to the other side. From there it was impossible to see the river or railway.

  ‘I’m going to have a look,’ I said. ‘We won’t stay long and once we know what’s happening we can go home. What do you say?’

  He grimaced. ‘All right, but we mustn’t be long. It’s getting late.’

  I looked at the sun. It was late afternoon. Mam would be beginning to wonder where I was. She would not bother about me missing a meal, that was fairly common. And anyway, with things the way they were, it would not have been much of a meal.

  Once round the bend we got onto our stomachs and crawled to the edge of the road. The scene around the train was unchanged but the search parties had moved quite a distance. Two had crossed the river and came slowly and surely towards us. Four other groups followed the river banks north and south. The civilians sat in huddled groups around the wreckage. After about ten minutes we wormed our way backwards, got to our feet, dusted ourselves down and started up the valley. We were dirty, scratched and sweating. A light breeze picked up as the sun dropped behind the valleys’ side and the shadows crept inexorably towards us.

  Here the hill was at its steepest: there were no houses and nobody passed us.

  I felt worn out and my body ached but luckily I did not feel cold or shivery and had no desire to sneeze. I thought if I sneezed it would mean I was getting another dose of pneumonia. ‘Cliff, I know what we thought before but I think we’d better not say anything to anybody. Just in case, like. It’s got awfully serious, somehow.’

  ‘You’re right, Dai. Know something? I’m kind of scared.’

  ‘Me too, Cliff. So it’s a deal then? We’ll say nothing?’

  ‘Sure Dai. You can count on me.’

  I knew that. We had been in enough scrapes together. We pressed on and finally the first of the houses came into view.

  I paused outside my door and waved to Cliff. I went in.

  ‘Where on earth have you been?’ Mam greeted me. ‘Just look at you.’ She was more annoyed than I had seen her for a long time. Sion told me later that for about two hours before I arrived Mam had been to the door about every five minutes to look for me.

  She made me bath and sent me to bed early. I was grateful to snuggle under the blankets, absolutely worn out. I thought my day was over but I was in for a rude awakening.

  9

  ‘Wake up Dai. Wake up, boyo. Come on.’ Da shook my shoulder. Slowly the message got through to my tired brain and with difficulty I forced open my eyes. I felt languid and heavy with sleep, ready to drop off again immediately. ‘Dai you’ve got to get up and come downstairs. I must talk to you. Come on, boy.’ Da threw back the bed clothes and the cold brought some action in my mind. Awkwardly I got out of bed and fumbled for my clothes. ‘It’s okay son, you don’t need to get dressed. Just put your dressing gown on.’

  I fol
lowed him downstairs. Uncle Huw was sitting by the fire. My heart started pounding and I became more alert. I went into the kitchen and washed my face in cold water. It had to be important to get me out of bed and in my guilt-ridden mind I had no doubt what it was.

  ‘Hullo, Uncle Huw,’ I greeted him warily. He nodded and grunted something. I looked at Da, waiting for somebody to say something.

  ‘Are you going to ask him, or am I?’ my uncle spoke to Da.

  ‘It’s your mess, but as he’s my son I’d better ask. Now listen Dai and please don’t lie. Did you and another boy follow some of the men today?’

  ‘I . . . eh . . . We . . . eh . . .’ I was about to deny it. After all I had made a promise to Cliff. The trouble was I had never really lied to my parents. I realised how serious it was and while I wrestled with my conscience I suddenly remembered we had been seen sneaking away from the meeting. I gave an embarrassed, little cough and nodded.

  ‘What did you see, Dai?’ asked Uncle Huw.

  He disconcerted me for a moment and when I replied, my anger at his tone turned to defiance. ‘I saw you and some of the others putting up those signs. And I saw four of the men do something to the track. I saw the train crash as well . . .’

  ‘My God,’ he interrupted, ‘did anybody see you, you little fool?’

  ‘No. We were too careful.’

  All this time Mam was sitting quietly, her hand to her throat, her face white. ‘But you can’t be sure, can you Dai?’ she asked.

  I thought about it. I was pretty sure but how sure was that? ‘I guess not,’ I said finally, in a low voice.

  ‘Goddamn it, Dai. What the hell did you want to follow us like that for anyway? What business did you have doing so? I’ve got a good mind to tan the hide off you.’ My uncle jumped to his feet in agitation. So did I, ready to dart upstairs if he took a step in my direction.

  ‘Don’t talk foolishly, Huw. What’s done is done. The boys had no idea what they were going to see. How could they? Nobody in their right mind would dream of doing what you fools did. So don’t blame the boy. Who was with you Dai? Was it Cliff ? You may as well tell me so I can have a word with him and his father.’