by Shirley Roe
“Mother, are you here?” The brood entered the small abode. A small fire burned in the fireplace and the room was a neat as a pin. Tim's mother was a very tidy woman. He thought that she cleaned to keep from thinking, but whatever the reason a clean home was the result. The house was her greatest joy. No one answered his call. Tim organized the children's chores and left for work.
Hoping that today he would be a lander, Tim set off for the mine. Landers received the kibbles or baskets of iron at the mouth of the shaft. At least he would get to see the sunshine. When he arrived, the superior informed him he was in the shaft today. Before heading to the pit, Tim stopped to see Jenny's uncle. “Hello, Mr. Barstow, any word from our Jenny?”
“Not yet, Tim, but I am sure she will write when she is settled.” Tim nodded. Hopefully you will write soon. At least I will know you are safe, Jenny.
Tim picked up his kibble and pick and headed down the adit. The adit led from the hillside, deep into the earth where the shafts began. The week before Tim had been sent to work in the turns, some of which were more than 90 feet deep. To reach the turn, the miners had to climb down footholds in the shaft walls or stemples, which were wooden steps built into the sides. It was an exhausting way to start and finish the day. He preferred the adit, a long level walk on the tracks, into the hillside.
Tim stopped in the coe to retrieve his wedges, hammers and wisket. This mine used wagons and tracks to move the ore, but many still used corves and stows to drag the ore to the shaft bottom and then lift it to the surface of the winding shaft. Two men were coming off shift as Tim arrived. Their faces were covered in black soot. “Bob, Ted, how goes it?”
“Lit a few fires last night, Tim, m'boy. When we threw water on those walls this morning, she cracked open like a bride waiting for her groom. A beautiful sight it was.” The two men laughed. “Better be careful in section D and F today, lad.” The two fire setters picked up their jackets and food sacks and bid Tim farewell. Tim knew that after a fire was built against the rock face, it might splinter for days. It was a definite danger. Fires were set at night to avoid deadly fumes in the tunnels. Bob and Ted were much older and very skilled workers and Tim had great respect for both of them.
After his shift, Tim left the adit exhausted and walked past the oresmelting mill. A large water wheel provided the power for the bellows. Mountains of kiln-dried wood, which fueled the furnace, surrounded the mill. His foreman was standing outside talking with the mill foreman. “Tim, heading home?” The three men shook hands. “There is a job coming up shortly at the mill, Tim. Let me know if you are interested.” The mill jobs paid more and men worked in the light of day. Tim was definitely interested. One day soon, he would wander in and find out how the ore was smelted and ask about the job. Right now he just wanted a hot bath and a good meal.
Tim's mother sat at the table peeling potatoes, when he arrived home. A letter had arrived for him this morning; it lay concealed in her apron pocket. She looked up at him with her sad eyes.
You never smile anymore, he thought to himself. Tim remembered how his mother always laughed and played with him when he was a youngster. Life had taken its toll on her. “There is a job coming up at the mill. Perhaps I will apply for it. It will mean a few more coins at the end of a week.” His mother nodded, but even the thought of more money did not put a smile on her face. Tim left her and went to the washhouse to bathe. She took the letter from her pocket. The handwriting was very familiar; she would know Jenny's penmanship anywhere. Walking to the fireplace, she placed the unopened letter on top of the burning logs. She sat there and watched until not a shred of paper remained. For your own good Tim, and the good of this family, she thought to herself.
Young William joined him in the washhouse and amused him with tales of school and a very good imitation of the schoolmaster. Tim laughed out loud as the youngster paraded back and forth, hands behind his back, shaking his head in disgust. William was the one bit of joy in Tim's life now that Jenny was gone. He would do whatever was necessary to see that William and the others had enough to eat and a place to live.
Soon Beth arrived to announce that supper was ready. Tim was always reminded of his father when he looked at Beth. She bore a striking resemblance to their father. Her hair was long and almost black and her nose was pointed just like his. Tim and William resembled their mother, with red hair and freckles and less sharp features. Simon and Megan were a mixture of both parents. Thinking of his father always made him feel sad. Why did he go away and leave us?
Tim's life continued day after day. Every day he looked for a letter from Jenny. Every day he asked her uncle if he had news. Nothing. He began to think Jenny had forgotten all about him and Watsworth. I have nothing to offer you Jenny. I wish you the best.
One day he walked past the mill, just in time to see the foreman climbing into his wagon. Tim waved his hand in greeting. “Tim, just the man I was wanting to see. If you want the job in the mill, you should apply. There are three others up for it.” Tim clasped the foreman's hand, acknowledging his gratitude. His mother would finally smile when he told her his news. Tim walked home with a new energized gait. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought the new job could somehow bring Jenny back to him. It was silly he knew, but at least he would be improving his lot in life.
Tim's mother was waiting outside when he arrived home. “Tim, you will have to take young William into town.” Irritated that she would ask him to take the wagon to town after a hard day's work, he was about to protest. Besides, he had news. His mother stood in front of him, always demanding. About to tell her it would have to wait, he stopped. Tim looked closely at his mother; she was genuinely concerned. “He is burning up with fever.”
Tim realized the seriousness of the situation. As tired as he was, he washed up quickly in the rain barrel and changed his clothes. His news was forgotten. Within minutes, he and William were in the wagon and heading for town. The youngster lay in the back bundled in blankets.
Tim sat in the doctor's office, waiting for the nurse. She had taken William into the doctor more than one hour ago and Tim nodded off and on as he waited. He was so tired, but his concern for his brother was great. Another hour passed before the nurse appeared. “Mr. McKitterek, I am afraid your brother is very ill. He must go into hospital right away.”
“But what is wrong with him? He was fine yesterday.”
“The doctor thinks he has tuberculosis. He is very ill. Please sign these papers, and we will have him moved immediately.” Tim stared at the nurse, unsure what to do or say. What would he tell his mother? If something happened to William, she would be devastated. Tim was hoping to see her smile, and now he would have to tell her William was in hospital. He signed the papers. “You realize all of his bedding and clothing will have to be burned and the house disinfected. You don't want the rest of the family to be infected.” The nurse gave him a concerned look. Tim nodded. He went into the office to say goodbye to William and reassure the youngster that he would see him very soon. William managed a smile; it broke Tim's heart.
It was dark when Tim returned home and his mother was frantic. “Where is my boy? Where is William?”
“William is in hospital. Mother, sit down I have to talk to you.” Tim slowly calmed his mother and told her exactly what the doctor had told him.
“But we don't have money for hospitals. We barely have enough to feed ourselves. He will have to come home. I can take care of him.” Tim was concerned about the hospital bills, but he knew that the doctor would have sent William home if he thought they could care for him.
“He must be in the hospital, Mother. I will take you to see him tomorrow, but now I need to sleep. I have to go to the mine at five a.m, and I have not slept. Please get me some soup and I will lay down for a few hours.” His mother reluctantly went to the stove and began stirring the large pot of soup. She set the table for one. “I can apply for the job at the mill. We will have a few more coins, and I am sure we can pay the doctor.” Ti
m's mother looked at him with great sadness.
“Come and eat, you must be tired.” Tim was surprised at his mother's sudden compassion for him. Usually she was cool and unfeeling. Perhaps she was worried about the hospital bills. Tim was the only source of income for the family. He sat down and ate in silence.
Bertha McKitterek was panicking inside. Her mind was racing-more bills, another sick child, and the farmer threatening to evict them. Where would they go? Did she dare tell Tim about her run in with the farmer early in the week? Damn that husband of hers, leaving her to cope with this family. Damn him to hell. She remained silent, watching her eldest son finish his meal. Soon Tim retired.
She needed to move. She pulled the bedding from William's bed and took all of his clothing from the bureau. Taking them outside she placed them in the barrel and lit them on fire. She stood staring at the flames in the fire for more than an hour. What would become of them?
Tim tossed and turned on his cot, dreaming of Jenny. She smiled up at him; how he loved her. She was wearing a wedding gown. Finally, they were to be married, but his mother appeared, pulling him from the church. “Get back to the mine,” she was saying, over and over. “Get back to the mine.” He awoke with a start. He knew that he would never leave this place. He would never marry Jenny or anyone else. At twenty-one, his future was sealed in the shafts of the mine and the tiny rooms of this house.
In the hospital room, Bertha sat holding William's hand. Perspiration dripped from his tiny forehead. Her eyes filled with tears. God, take me, please let William live and take me. Hours later, Tim arrived to sit with his brother, sending his mother home for a much needed rest. He felt so helpless, staring at the small, sleeping boy. His breathing was labored. He looked so weak and defenseless.
Two days later, William McKitterek died. The family was devastated. Tim went to work a sad and lonely man. William was his only joy. The smiling youngster would never cheer his days again. Tim's mother had not spoken since the doctor told them the child was gone. The funeral would be on Wednesday, a simple pauper's burial. Ted and Bob extended their condolences as Tim passed them in the adit. He simply nodded, picked up his kibble and walked into the darkness.
Wednesday afternoon, Bertha stood, erect composed and quite still, in the cemetery. A cold wind blew and leaves danced around her feet. Her black dress, several years old, stretched across her bulky frame. Megan and Tim stood solemnly beside her, the three united in their stunned grief, not exactly leaning on one another, but conscious of the feelings they shared. Simon, Beth and Mary were off to the side picking up pinecones and anxious to leave. At seven, eight and ten, they did not comprehend the funeral. The reverend spoke a few words, and in minutes it was over. Tim could not help, but think that even a six-year-old deserved more than a few minutes. He also noted that no one else came to show his or her respect. He expected the farmer's family, but they were not there. The men from the mine were working. No one was there. Disgusted, he ushered his sister and mother into the wagon. The others climbed in back, and the family silently rode the dusty country roads back to their home.
One month later, the farmer arrived to inform them that they would have to vacate the premises by month's end. Bertha stood staring as the farmer rode across the snow covered field. She pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders; a cold shiver ran through her body. Blast you Eddie; blast you to hell for leaving me.
The sun was rising over the hills. “I won't go, Mother. You can't make me.” Megan was beside herself. She paced back and forth in the tiny room with her cheeks stained with tears.
“You will go, and you will go now. Mr. Blackmore's man will be here in a few minutes. You are lucky to have this opportunity.” Megan turned and stared at her mother with hatred.
“Opportunity! You call working in the laundry of Mr. Blackmore's mansion an opportunity? I will be little more than a slave.”
“Well, better a well-fed slave than a dead country girl. All of us will starve to death out in the cold if something is not done soon. In three days, we do not have a home. So don't argue with me. Get your bag and get going. You have no say in this.” Bertha picked up her daughter's bag and threw it in her direction. The girl was still glaring at her with such hatred. It broke her heart, but there was no other way.
“Simon has gone to work at the Morris’ farm and he is only ten. So I won't hear you complain, girl.” Bertha's son, Simon, had left the day before. With Tim at the mine and Megan at the Blackmore's, she only had the two younger children to care for, so she was moving in with her sister in London. Her sister only had one room to spare, but at least they would have a roof over their heads.
Five days later, Tim sat in the pub, a large pint of beer on the table before him. He had waited all of his life for this moment. His mother had gone to London with the children, Megan was employed at the Blackmores’, Simon at the Morris farm and here he sat a free man at last. The day before he had been offered the job in the smelting mill and he had to let the foreman know by the end of the week. It would be hard work, but he would be out of the pit. He had taken a room in the pub, and now he had his own life to figure out. What would he do? He picked up the beer and let the cool liquid flow down his dry throat. Yes, it was his life now. What would he do?
Chapter Seven
Ian Murphy admired his reflection in the hall mirror. He straightened his ascot, turning his head from side to side to admire his own profile.
“Your uncle has arrived, Master Ian.” Ian turned to face the old butler. The man had been with the Murphy family since Ian was a child. Ian simply nodded and returned conceitedly, to his preening. The old man looked at him in disgust and moved off. Ian was not popular with the staff. The entranceway was large, with nine-foot ceilings. An oak staircase curved up one side of the room leading to dozens of rooms on the second floor and portraits of the Murphy ancestors lined the wall of the stairway. They appeared to be watching as the butler ascended the stairs one at a time, as he had done for years.
After a few minutes, Ian strolled cockily into the great room, where his mother and her brother-in-law were seated. The room was large with floor to ceiling windows along the south wall, with heavy burgundy damask draperies hung to the side. The furniture was glowing rosewood, elegant, and upholstered in several shades of green. A stone fireplace filled the wall, a fire burned brightly behind the screen. Ornaments were arranged tastefully on the mantle.
“Uncle John, how nice to see you.” He extended his hand to the older man and took a seat next to his mother. Ian found his uncle very intimidating; he automatically sought the security of his mother's side.
“Ian.” John Murphy watched his nephew closely. He didn't trust him and he wished he had not promised his deceased brother that he would take care of the lad. Ian squirmed as the silence grew.
“Your Uncle wishes to speak to you about business matters, Ian. I will leave you alone to discuss it. I must see the cook about the menu.” His mother rose, patting his shoulder protectively. He reached for her hand, but she let it slip through his fingers and left him alone on the settee. The men remained silent as she walked the length of the room, exiting to the right towards the kitchen. Ruth Murphy's protective nature kept her close to the large doorway; she listened to the conversation, safely out of sight.
Ian grew more uncomfortable as his uncle continued to stare at him in contemplative silence. He shifted one leg over the other and back again trying to get comfortable.
“Mr. Johnson called me, Ian. Apparently he found it necessary to hire an assistant for you.” His uncle's tone was serious and commanding. “Can you explain to me, why this was necessary?” John Murphy waited.
“I… Mr. Johnson, felt that I was overworked, and I was very pleased to have the help.”
“Really? And why were you overworked? When I got you that position, you promised me you would do your best. The person before you did not have an assistant. I hope you are not going to disappoint me once again.”
“No,
Uncle honestly. I was trying to keep up, but you know how important the position is, with the city growing rapidly and more and more work being done. It is easy to make a mistake when one is pushed to the limits.” Ian was perspiring; he loosened his ascot.
“Tell me, how is this assistant working out? Are you keeping up with the work now?”
“Oh yes, Miss Barstow is most efficient. She and I work very well together.” Ian was gathering his thoughts. John knew he was weighing his words carefully. “Miss Barstow is a good worker, and she seems very happy to be employed.”
“She doesn't have any difficulty with the work?”
Ian pounced on this opportunity to make himself look good in his uncle's eyes. “No, actually I think she is learning a great deal from me. She is most anxious to learn. I have taken her under my wing, and I am training her to do the more important assignments.”
“And how is that going?”
“Very well, yes it is going very well. Miss Barstow is a most anxious student.” Ian was feeling more confident now. His uncle would be happy to think he was taking this job seriously, so seriously in fact that he was taking the time to train his assistant. His body relaxed on the hard settee. This action did not go unnoticed.
“I understand Miss Barstow was originally hired to fill your position. In fact, Miss Barstow was to be the head of the department. How does she feel about being your assistant?” John was pushing his nephew because he knew there was much more to this than he was being told. Ian had lost four jobs in the past year, all due to negligence and his cavalier attitude and John was at the end of his rope. He had called in several favors to get Ian the position and he was not about to be embarrassed again.