“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jim. And I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Beryl leaned in close to his soot-streaked ear but pitched her voice at a stage whisper to include the others. “Although there are lions in the desert I had more trouble with some of the two-legged wildlife.”
“Hostile desert bandits, ma’am?” Jim asked, reaching a hand to his throat.
“Not exactly. The trouble came from the natives being entirely too friendly. The head of the group that found my balloon crash site got it into his head that I ought to stay and live out my days as one of his many wives. When I declined, things became a bit heated.”
“How did you manage to escape?” A small boy tugged on her sleeve.
“I showed him this and then helped myself to one of his camels.” Beryl pulled her pistol from the pocket of her long duster coat and held it above the child’s head. “Despite a bit of trouble in the language department he understood my meaning immediately.” A gasp went up from the assembled boys and nods of silent approval circulated amongst the miners.
“A camel, you say?” one of the other boys said. “What’s it like to ride on one of them?”
“Surprisingly soothing once you get the hang of it. It undulates beneath you in a way that almost puts one to sleep.” Beryl noticed Edwina had stepped out of the automobile and was raising an eyebrow in her general direction. Perhaps it was best to leave the crowd wanting more. “As much as I would love to stay and chat about it all with you fellows for the rest of the day, my associate and I are actually here on a mission. I wonder if you might help us with it?” she asked. The boys and Jim all bobbed their heads up and down eagerly. The other men shifted a bit from one foot to the other in uncertainty. “We are looking for one of your fellow miners. We understood from an artist friend that he was down near the river a few days ago and we were hoping he could help with our search for something,” Beryl said. Edwina stepped forward and handed her the drawing. One of the boys piped up immediately.
“That’s Martin Haynes,” he said, pointing a grubby finger at the sketch. “Your friend is a dab hand at drawing. It looks just like him.” Edwina came round the side of the automobile and stood next to Beryl.
“Thanks so much for your assistance, young man,” Beryl said. “Now I don’t suppose any of you could tell us where we might find this Mr. Haynes?”
“The shift is about to change so he should be coming up out of the pit in the next few minutes or so. You should see him if you wait at the entrance to the mine,” Jim said. “If you want I can show you the way to the pit. My shift starts just as the current one ends.” Beryl noticed that the other men nodded in agreement. They each held a tin lunch bucket in their hand and all wore clothing so encrusted with black dust that it was impossible to guess with any certainty the garments’ original colors.
“We would be very grateful,” Edwina said. The tone of her voice indicated she meant it. If she had to guess, Beryl would have said Edwina felt out of her depths in such a working-class environment. She closed the distance between them with a few long strides and took her friend by the arm.
“On all my journeys I make it a practice to rely on local guides, Jim. In this case that guide is you,” Beryl said. Jim nodded and gestured that they should follow him round the back of the store and along a hard-packed dirt path. Everywhere Beryl turned her gaze there were signs of poverty, industry, and desperation. The farther they left the mining village behind them, the dirtier and noisier the atmosphere became. When Jim stopped and pointed to the place where they should wait, Beryl continued to grip Edwina’s arm.
“If you ladies will wait right here I expect you’ll see Martin Haynes emerge from the pit before long. I expect you’ll be all right, won’t you?” Jim asked.
“Of course we shall,” Beryl said. “Thanks ever so much for your help.” Jim nodded and stepped away, swinging his lunch bucket and whistling. Beryl watched his retreating back and hoped that he would have a safe shift far beneath the surface. She turned to Edwina.
“Is something troubling you?” Edwina asked.
“Why do you ask?” Beryl said.
“Your hand is serving as an admirable tourniquet. My lower arm has gone completely numb,” Edwina said.
Beryl quickly dropped her hand from Edwina’s arm. “I’m sorry about that. I have been making time for some hand strengthening exercises lately and must have progressed more quickly than I realized.”
“Whyever should you need to strengthen your grip, Beryl?” Edwina asked. Beryl was once again grateful for her ability to make up convincing stories on the spot.
“One never knows when being physically fit will be useful, Ed. Especially in our line of work. Perhaps you would like to take up a practice of calisthenics yourself,” Beryl said.
“You mean capering about the back lawn and then attempting to touch one’s toes whilst standing straight-legged?” Edwina asked. “Certainly not. I have no intention of flitting about in such a manner. Just imagine the tales Simpkins would carry to the pub.” Beryl felt the waves of indignation rolling satisfactorily from Edwina and was certain there would be no need to explain her discomfort concerning the mine. She was free to speak closer to the truth once more.
“I simply cannot imagine how these men can stand it down there,” Beryl said. Edwina’s glance followed the miners as they staggered up out of the mine and into the open air. Many of them squinted at the sunlight and shielded their eyes with a filthy hand. Most of them looked thoroughly exhausted.
“It’s certainly not a job for someone with claustrophobia,” Edwina said. “Or anyone with a fear of drowning.”
“Drowning?” Beryl asked. She had been quite uncomfortable enough without that piece of information.
“Yes, drowning. When I was a small child, one of the mines suffered a horrific flood and nearly two dozen men were drowned underground,” Edwina said. “The men returned to the mine just as soon as they stopped the water rushing in and recovered the bodies. I could not believe they had the nerve to do it.”
“I don’t suppose they had any more choice than these men do today,” Beryl said. “It’s not the sort of job you would take on a whim. These men need to feed their families.”
“I suppose that could make someone do what otherwise would seem impossible,” Edwina said. She pulled out the sketch of Martin Haynes. “Let’s take another glance at the man we are looking for. Not that I’m certain we will be able to recognize him straight from the mine. His face may be too covered in dust to identify him with ease.”
The two women stood watching as miner after miner came up out of the hole in the ground. Beryl thought they must have missed him when finally a few last stragglers exited the pit. A man looking just like the one in the sketch was amongst them. In deference to Edwina’s fear of falling down the mine shaft, Beryl waited for him to get well away from the mine entrance before she approached.
“Excuse me, but are you Mr. Martin Haynes?” she asked. The man she believed to be Mr. Haynes stopped and looked her up and down unabashedly. It was not the first time someone had so boldly attempted to take her measure. But it was the first time it had been attempted by someone covered in coal dust from head to toe.
“You’re that woman from the papers,” he said. He snapped his fingers. “Beryl Helliwell. That’s it, isn’t it?” He smiled, the white of his teeth standing out all the more starkly against the soot clinging to his lips.
“I am if you are Martin Haynes,” Beryl said with a smile of her own. He crossed his arms across his chest and widened his stance.
“Why do you want to know? Are you here to offer me a job that will take me away from all this?” he said.
“We are looking for Lionel Cunningham.” Beryl said. “Are you aware that he’s missing?”
“There have been rumors around the pit that he’d simply vanished. I can’t say too many of us were too upset by it. Including me. That still doesn’t explain why you have come out looking for me. Shouldn’t you be talking
to the bosses?” he said.
“We are speaking with everyone who’s had any contact with him in the last week or so,” Beryl said.
“And what makes you think that I’ve had anything to do with Cunningham besides waiting in line for him to dole out my measly pay packet?”
“We have it on good authority that you were seen speaking with him near the river the day before he went missing,” Beryl said.
“What if I say that your authority is mistaken?” he asked.
Edwina stepped forward and held out the sketch. “We identified you from this sketch, which was made that morning by the river. As you can see, you were seen by someone who took careful notice,” Edwina said. Mr. Haynes bent over the sketch then looked back at Beryl.
“Even if it was me, what makes you ladies think you ought to come around asking these sorts of questions?” Mr. Haynes said.
“We are private enquiry agents hired to ask just such questions,” Edwina said. Beryl was surprised at the ring of authority in Edwina’s voice. Surprised, but delighted nonetheless. “Not only were you seen with Mr. Cunningham, you were seen arguing with him.”
“All right, I admit it. I was talking with Cunningham near the river. I suppose our conversation could have been interpreted as an argument by someone who was observing from a distance,” Mr. Haynes said.
“What were you talking about that would give such an impression?” Edwina asked.
Mr. Haynes turned around and gestured at the pit opening behind him. “Do you know what it’s like down there? Do you have any idea what it is like in the pit?” Beryl felt Edwina stiffen. Both women shook their heads. “I didn’t think so. Anyone who hasn’t been down there can’t possibly imagine just how difficult it is. Especially after so many of us spent so much of the war down in other sorts of pits and holes.”
“Memories of the trenches must make things difficult for many of you. Were you arguing with Mr. Cunningham about his understanding of working in the pit?” Beryl said.
“Every year there are accidents which lead to injuries and to deaths. Did you know that conditions in the mines in Kent are the worst in all the British Isles?” he asked. Beryl shook her head and Edwina nodded. “It’s the water, you see. It makes the shafts unstable. Cunningham has the boss’s ear. I wanted him to speak to Ecclestone-Smythe about worker safety. I gave him a pamphlet about ways to improve the working conditions but he didn’t want to take it.”
“I’ve been reading about that sort of thing in the local papers ever since coal was first discovered in the region,” Edwina said. “Why didn’t Mr. Cunningham want to take the information to his superior?”
“Cunningham didn’t want to have anything to do with something as unpopular with the boss as worker safety. Too expensive, too likely to give workingmen ideas,” Mr. Haynes said. He hacked up a glob of dust and spat it on the ground. He looked at both the women as if to dare them to criticize him for his poor manners. Beryl was relieved that rather than comment on his ungraciousness, Edwina simply ignored him and continued with her questions.
“But in the end you simply shoved an envelope at him. Was the pamphlet inside?” Edwina asked.
“It was. I told him I had to get back to the mining village. I had better things to do than to spend what little free time I had chewing the fat with him,” Mr. Haynes said.
“Did he agree to give the pamphlet to Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe?” Beryl asked.
“He said he would consider it. I don’t know if he did or if he didn’t and he hasn’t been around to ask since. I guess I’ll just have to give it to the boss myself no matter what comes of it,” he said.
“What do you mean ‘what comes of it’?” Edwina asked.
“Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe doesn’t prefer to mix with the men who do his dirty work. If you come to his attention in any way, you run the risk of being tossed out on your ear,” Mr. Haynes said. “But sometimes you just have to take a stand. And maybe the situation’s gotten dire enough that he can’t afford to lose any more workers and I’ll be able to say my piece and keep my job, too.”
“The situation at the mine is dire?” Beryl asked. “It looks quite busy.” She indicated the steady stream of men heading down into the mine.
“Like I said, the conditions in Kent are the worst in the nation. Nobody wants to work here and they won’t unless they have to. But the economic situation in the country is miserable too and some people don’t have a lot of choice. Mr. Ecclestone-Smythe has found himself in the position of needing us almost as much as we need him.”
“It sounds like maybe you’ll be able to change his opinion,” Beryl said. “If the owner really needs you, maybe he’ll be more open to your requests.”
“For someone who is so well traveled you sure are naive,” he said to Beryl. “Even the villagers in Walmsley Parva look down on us and don’t want anything to do with us. Can you imagine that someone as wealthy and powerful as a colliery owner would want to lower himself long enough to imagine what life is like for the likes of us? Or to take any responsibility for his part in creating those conditions?”
“I should like to think people are capable of change,” Edwina said. “Otherwise, what is the point of things like the pamphlets you mentioned?”
“Very likely there is no point at all. Now, if there isn’t anything else that you ladies need enough to keep me from getting cleaned up and tucking into a ploughman’s, I’ll take my leave of you. My next shift will come all too soon,” Mr. Haynes said. Without waiting for an answer he turned his back on them and walked away.
“Do you believe him?” Beryl asked.
“About the conditions at the mine? About the desperate need for workers? About the need for jobs? Or about his conversation with Mr. Cunningham?” Edwina asked.
“About all of it, I suppose,” Beryl said. “But mostly about the argument with our missing man.”
Edwina kept staring at the entrance to the pit in front of them. She gave a deep sigh.
“I wish I didn’t believe him about the conditions or the desperation on all sides. I want to believe him about the nature of his conversation with Mr. Cunningham,” Edwina said.
“I feel exactly the same. Mr. Haynes gave a strong argument for worker safety. It’s hard to believe in the middle of the English countryside something as ugly as all this exists. Somehow I never would have imagined anything so industrial could be found so close to idyllic Walmsley Parva,” Beryl said.
“It came as quite a shock to all of us, I assure you. Even though the first mine started up when I was a very small child, I still remember the brouhaha it caused, ” Edwina said. “When there were difficulties in many of the mines, I am sorry to say that some people in the village were happy to hear about them.”
“I can imagine it must have been worrisome to many, but didn’t any of the shopkeepers have hopes that their businesses might grow with an influx of outsiders to shop at them? I should think they would be glad of the additional business,” Beryl said.
“There may have been some that felt that way privately but Mr. Haynes is right about the lack of a welcome from the villagers in Walmsley Parva. A number of folks were outspoken about their relief when the mining village was built and the miners could live and shop out of sight of those people who had always lived here,” Edwina said.
“That sounds rather harsh. What would have caused such bad feelings?” Beryl asked.
“A lot of people weren’t happy when coal was found in Kent. I remember my parents were very distressed by it. They said that it would change the character of the area and that it would not be for the better,” Edwina said. “Others said we shouldn’t resist the march of industry in progress. The community has been somewhat divided on the subject ever since it first came up.”
“What do you think about it?” Beryl asked.
“I think there has been too much needless suffering over the last several years and it behooves each of us to do what we can to make the path of life smoother for our fellow travele
rs. Besides, from a practical sense, the country runs on coal. Mining strikes arise from unhappy workers who feel poorly treated. I don’t wish to see another rash of unrest occur because the good people of Walmsley Parva think they are above needing to see where their source of fuel comes from.” Edwina carefully tucked Charles’ sketch back into its folder.
“I’m not sure we’ve made any more progress than we had before we got here,” Beryl said.
“But we’re no further behind than we were either. Who would have thought we would make this much progress?” Edwina said. “I think we have done all we can for now here in the mining village and should head back to the Beeches.”
Chapter 11
The conversation with Mr. Haynes left Edwina feeling disquieted. She knew there had always been an order to things amongst the classes. Goodness knew she felt it every time she interacted with Simpkins. But the war had wrought so many changes and had created so many rifts in society that more and more often she found herself questioning the way things had always been. She was a bit embarrassed to acknowledge it, even to herself, but before the war she would not have given the slightest thought to whether or not the miners should expect better working conditions. She would have simply felt it their duty to know their place and to pitch in to help keep the nation strong by hewing coal out of the ground.
But the working class lost as many limbs and lives as the social classes above them. As far as Edwina was concerned, there was a leveling out on that fact alone. It simply would no longer do to expect those who sacrificed so much to continue to have so little. After years in a trench, could a man be asked to go back into a dangerous hole in the ground? He certainly could not without expecting society to do its best to ensure his safety.
Murder Flies the Coop Page 8