He stayed in his study until the Tollers had gone. He heard the clip-clop of hooves and looked out of the window to see Rob Chadwick sitting up on top of a cart, the horse’s reins in his hands.
James felt a shot of dislike. Why was he still in the village? He had taken to hanging around the pit gates with the other miners, shouting the odds at the blacklegs even though it had been more than three years since he himself had worked at Bowden Main.
As James watched, Carrie came out of the house and spoke to Rob for a few minutes. Then Susan came out with all her children, and Rob climbed down and picked them up tenderly one by one, swinging them high up into the back of the cart before gallantly helping Susan on to the seat beside him. He leaned over and said something to her, and James saw the woman’s sad face slowly transformed as she laughed.
Bitterness rose in his throat, nearly choking him. Rob Chadwick, hero of the hour.
Carrie remained standing by the gate, watching the horse and cart until it disappeared out of sight. As she turned away, James thought he saw a look of longing on her face.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Everyone agreed it was the hottest day of the summer so far.
Even first thing in the morning, Agnes could feel the warmth of the sun on the glass as she drew back her curtains. In the kitchen, Jinny had thrown open the back door to let in some cool air, only to have Mrs Bannister close it again on account of the flies coming in.
‘If she reckons I’m going to stay shut in here on a baking day, she’s got another think coming!’ Jinny grumbled as she lit the range. ‘I’ll melt into a puddle by dinnertime!’
By mid-morning, the sun was high in the cloudless blue sky, bouncing off the cobbled streets and scorching the scrubby patches of grass verge. Dogs lolled in the shade of shop awnings, for once too weary to try to chase Agnes’ bicycle as she cycled through the village. Even the children in the school playground seemed more languid than usual. There were no cries of excitement and laughter, no running about. They moved slowly, flopping down here and there, too hot for play.
Agnes hopped off her bicycle and parked it in the shed. She was sweltering inside her thick blue cotton dress, hair damp with perspiration under her cap.
In the senior classroom, she found Miss Warren and Miss Colley sitting side by side at the senior teacher’s desk, a pile of books in front of them. Miss Colley was pasting book plates into the front of each book, then passing them to Miss Warren, who inscribed them. Miss Warren looked as cool and collected as ever, unlike Miss Colley, who had damp strands of hair sticking to her round, pink face.
‘You’ll have to do this one again, Miss Colley. It’s not quite straight, do you see?’ Miss Warren handed her back one of the books.
Miss Colley held it up, squinting at it. ‘It looks perfectly all right to me.’
‘I’m telling you, it isn’t.’ Miss Warren looked up as Agnes came in. ‘Ah, Miss Sheridan. We weren’t expecting you until eleven o’clock. It’s barely ten to.’ She glanced at the clock on the wall accusingly.
‘I finished my rounds early, so I thought I’d come straight here.’
‘I see.’ Miss Warren was tight-lipped. ‘There are some who would say being too early is almost as impolite as being too late.’
Agnes glanced at Miss Colley, who rolled her eyes. You see what I have to put up with? her long-suffering expression said.
‘I’m sorry,’ Agnes said, setting down her bag. She had already learned that where Miss Warren was concerned, it was always better to apologise. Trying to argue got her nowhere. ‘What’s all this?’ She nodded towards the books on the table.
‘School prize-giving,’ Miss Warren explained. ‘Miss Colley and I are putting in the children’s names ready for the prizes to be handed out. Although I daresay we would get through them all a great deal faster if Miss Colley here were to pay more attention to what she is doing,’ she added, thrusting another book back at the hapless junior teacher.
‘Sorry, Miss Warren,’ Miss Colley muttered between clenched teeth.
‘When is the prize-giving?’ Agnes asked.
‘Next week, at the Miners’ Welfare Institute. Perhaps you would like to come?’ Miss Warren said.
‘I would, thank you.’
‘Excuse me, Miss Warren?’ Miss Colley interrupted, holding up one of the books. ‘What shall we do about Elsie Stanhope?’
Miss Warren paused, her fountain pen poised. She looked at the book in Miss Colley’s hands, then let out a sigh. ‘Better not, I suppose.’
Agnes’ ears pricked up at the mention of Elsie’s name. ‘Why won’t you give Elsie a prize?’
‘Oh, believe me, I’d like nothing more. Elsie is one of the brightest and most able pupils in this school, and by rights she should be collecting a prize with the other children. But her father has forbidden it.’
‘Forbidden it? But why?’
‘The prizes have been donated by the Haverstock family. Miss Eleanor is going to be handing them out at the ceremony. And I’m afraid Mr Stanhope won’t allow Elsie to take anything from them.’
Agnes stared at her, shocked. ‘Surely not?’
‘He feels very strongly about it,’ Miss Warren said. ‘I’ve tried to talk to him, but he won’t hear of it. Mr Stanhope is very – uncompromising – in his views.’ She chose her words carefully.
Pig-headed, you mean, Agnes thought.
She had got to know Elsie Stanhope better recently. The little girl had been turning up regularly at Agnes’ clinics, loitering around the doors until it was time to close up, then helping her to put away the chairs. Agnes thought she might grow bored eventually, but for now she was keen to learn, asking her all kinds of questions about nursing, and the equipment used. Agnes was continually surprised by how bright the girl was, soaking up all the information like a sponge, desperately keen to learn.
Elsie had told her a little about her own life, too. She was careful about what she gave away, but Agnes had built up a picture of a lonely little girl, desperately grieving for her mother, and missing the father who had shut himself off from his children just when they needed him most.
Agnes pictured the child, carefully putting away chairs in the Welfare Institute after the clinic, in her ragged dress and patched boots, and her heart lurched in her chest. Poor Elsie. She spent her life being ignored, and now she was to be deprived of her one moment to shine.
Eleven o’clock struck, and Miss Warren put down her pen. ‘Time to get the children in,’ she said to Miss Colley. ‘The bell, Miss Colley, if you please. Miss Sheridan, perhaps you would like to carry out your inspection in the other classroom, while I finish writing out these? You can assist her, can’t you, Miss Colley?’
‘Of course, Miss Warren.’
As Miss Colley followed Agnes outside, she said, ‘What a relief to escape! Honestly, she was starting to drive me mad. As if I’m not capable of pasting in a book plate! I’m tired of her continually finding fault with me. I’ve a good mind to walk out one of these days, you see if I don’t.’ Her words came out in a torrent, like a dam bursting its banks. ‘And did you notice how cool she was? It was so hot and airless in that room, I thought I would melt. But not her … I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she had ice water running through her veins – are you all right, Miss Sheridan? You’re very quiet this morning?’
Only because I haven’t had the chance to say a word! Agnes thought, and smiled to herself. ‘I was still thinking of Elsie Stanhope,’ she said.
‘Ah, yes. Poor little Elsie.’ Miss Colley sighed. ‘Such a pity. Even Miss Warren can’t find a bad word to say about her, which means she must be some kind of child prodigy.’ She shook her head. ‘But I suppose if her father has made up his mind then there’s nothing to be done, is there?’
‘I suppose not,’ Agnes agreed. But her mind was already busily working.
‘Blackleg scum!’
‘Bloody traitors!’
‘Tha should be ashamed of thysen!’
&nbs
p; Seth Stanhope and the other men vented their fury on the bars of the locked pit gates, rattling the chains that bound them. On the far side of the yard, the newly recruited men barely looked their way as they emerged from the cage, squinting in the bright sunshine, then headed towards the lamp room. After nearly three months they had grown used to the chants and the curses and the name-calling from the striking miners.
‘Look at them. At least they used to have the grace to look ashamed. Now they’re brazen about it.’ Tom Chadwick spat on the ground in disgust,
‘Aye, you’re right,’ his son Archie agreed. ‘One of ’em even waved at me this morning as the bus went in.’
‘I’d like to see him waving if I got hold of him in a dark alley!’ Alec Morris muttered.
‘It makes you wonder what’s the point of being here, if no one’s going to take any notice of us?’ Reg Willis said quietly.
Seth turned on him, narrowing his eyes. ‘What are you saying?’
Reg took a step back, pulling himself up to his full height. He still barely came up to Seth’s earlobe. ‘We’ve all just said, no one pays us any attention any more. And it’s not as if we’ve been able to stop the blacklegs coming in, is it? Production’s going on, same as it always did. Management don’t seem to care if we’re here or not, so why are we bothering?’
‘Then what are we supposed to do? Sit at home twiddling our thumbs and waiting for the Haverstocks to unlock the gates so we can go back to work?’ Seth said.
He looked around at the other men, who shuffled their feet. He could tell they all agreed with Reg Willis, even if they didn’t want to speak up in front of Seth. He could scent the air of defeat coming from them.
‘We can’t give in now,’ he urged them. ‘We’ve got to keep coming here, to show ’em we’re still strong, still united. We’ve got to keep fighting.’
‘Do we?’ Tom Chadwick spoke up. ‘I wonder sometimes.’
Archie looked dismayed. ‘You don’t mean that, Dad. You’d never break the lockout, surely?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ Tom shot a quick, cautious glance at Seth. ‘All I’m saying is that it’s getting harder to keep going. My Ruth pawned her wedding ring last week.’ His voice was choked. ‘I see how hard she struggles to keep the family together, and I wonder if it’s worth it, since we’ll have to accept the Haverstocks’ terms sooner or later.’
‘Who says we’ll have to accept them?’ Seth flared back. ‘We’re going to win this lockout. If we stick together, they’ll have to listen to us.’
‘Yes, but we in’t sticking together, are we? The TUC stabbed us in’t back within a week. And even the other miners are turning on us. Like that lot.’ Tom nodded towards the pit yard. ‘There are more men going back to work every day. Why should we be the ones to stick it out when we could be back down the pit, earning a wage again?’
‘You mean you want to join the rest of the blackleg scum?’ Seth cut him off angrily. ‘Then don’t let us stop you.’ He stood aside. ‘Go on, have a word with Mr Shepherd, I daresay he’ll welcome you back wi’ open arms. But you won’t be able to look thysen or the rest of us in’t face if you do,’ he warned.
Tom was mutinously silent, his face turned towards the pit yard. ‘I’m only saying, it’s hard to keep going,’ he murmured.
Seth laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘I know, Tom. It’s hard for the rest of us, too. But we’re like a house of cards. If one falls, then the whole lot will come down. You owe it to your mates to stand with us.’
‘I owe it to my family to keep them fed, too,’ Tom muttered.
Before Seth could reply, Reg Willis called out, ‘Hello, what’s she doing here?’
They all turned round. Seth’s heart sank at the sight of Agnes Sheridan cycling towards them, her battered old bicycle bumping over the rutted track that led to the pit gates.
He turned away, but the other men went on staring.
‘Happen she’s come to join the picket line?’ Archie Chadwick grinned.
‘I wouldn’t mind that,’ Reg Willis said. ‘At least it’d give us summat pretty to look at while we’re wasting our time here.’ Seth ignored the sideways glance Reg gave him.
‘I dunno about that.’ Tom Chadwick nodded towards Miss Sheridan. ‘I’ve seen that look in your mother’s eye, Archie. It generally means they’ve got it in for someone!’
Seth kept his attention fixed on the pit yard. The bus would be leaving soon, taking the men home. He wanted to be ready for when the gates opened.
The next thing he knew, someone was speaking his name. He turned around to see the nurse standing at his shoulder, looking up at him.
‘May I have a word with you, Mr Stanhope?’ she said in that ever-so-polite, cut-glass accent of hers.
He caught the eyes of the other men standing behind her, watching him with amusement. ‘Not now, I’m busy,’ he dismissed.
‘So I see.’ She looked around her, and he could hear the sarcasm in her voice. ‘But I promise I won’t take up too much of your valuable time.’
She wasn’t going to go away, he could tell. Determination was written all over her face.
Seth sighed. ‘If this is about our Christopher, I’ve already told you—’
‘It’s not about your son. It’s about Elsie.’
That caught his attention. ‘Elsie? Why, what’s she done? She in’t ailing?’
‘No, she isn’t.’ Agnes paused. ‘Are you aware your daughter has won a prize at school, Mr Stanhope?’
Seth blinked at her, not sure if he had heard her correctly. ‘You mean to tell me you’ve come all this way to talk about a school prize?’ He shook his head. The girl obviously had more time on her hands than she had sense. ‘Aye, Hannah mentioned it. What of it?’
‘I hear you’ve forbidden her to collect it?’
Seth’s mouth tightened. ‘And what business is it of yours if I have?’
‘Don’t you think you’re being rather unfair?’
‘You wouldn’t understand.’ Seth turned away, looking through the gates again. The blacklegs were filing out, climbing on to the bus. Any minute now, the overman would be crossing the yard to unlock the gates.
‘Oh, I understand perfectly. You’re prepared to sacrifice your daughter’s happiness for the sake of your own pride.’
One of the listening men laughed nervously. Seth turned to glare at whoever it was, but they were all busily looking down at the ground, taking a sudden interest in their boots.
Only Agnes Sheridan went on meeting his eye, her expression perfectly composed. She really did have the nerve of the devil, he decided.
‘And how come you know so much about my family all of a sudden?’ he asked.
‘I’ve got to know Elsie recently. She’s been coming down to the clinic every week. I’ve been teaching her about nursing. She’s a very bright little girl, Mr Stanhope.’
‘You don’t need to tell me that.’ Seth had a sudden picture of his daughter, tucked beside her mother on the settle, learning how to read. Sarah always said Elsie took more interest than the boys.
‘It seems such a shame she won’t be collecting her prize.’ Agnes Sheridan’s voice brought him back to the present.
‘She doesn’t mind,’ he muttered, wondering all the time why he was even giving her the time of day. Didn’t she ever keep her nose out of other people’s business?
‘How do you know that? Have you spoken to her properly about it?’
Seth opened his mouth, then closed it again. It was Hannah who had told him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had listened to a word his daughter said to him.
The revelation stopped him in his tracks for a moment. But at that moment he was distracted by the overman. He was crossing the yard, his keys jingling.
‘I’ve heard enough,’ Seth said shortly. ‘Time you went.’
Agnes stood her ground, squaring her slim shoulders. ‘You can’t tell me what to do!’
‘And you can’t tell me how to bring up my family!
’
The overman reached the gate and glared at them through the bars. ‘We don’t want any trouble from you lot,’ he warned.
Seth joined the other men, poised around the entrance as the bus slowly rumbled across the yard towards it. The special constables began to gather around, forming a protective guard.
So you’re not going to change your mind?’ Seth heard Agnes Sheridan’s voice saying behind him. ‘Mr Stanhope? Are you listening to me?’
‘Not now!’ He muscled his way to the front of the crowd, his body tensed. The bus was close enough now that he could make out the blackened faces of the men through the windows.
‘Perhaps if you paid as much attention to your children as you do to this pit, your family wouldn’t be in such a woeful state!’
Seth turned around slowly. The other men had stopped speaking and jostling each other. They froze where they stood, watching him warily, waiting for him to explode.
‘You know nowt about my family,’ he growled.
‘Neither do you, it seems. But at least I take an interest in them, which is more than can be said for you!’
He stared at Agnes, too stunned to speak. She stared back at him, her bright brown eyes devoid of fear.
Behind him, the overman started to unlock the gates.
‘Tha’d best go, lass,’ Tom Chadwick spoke up. ‘Before t’bus comes out.’
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. ‘Very well,’ she said, her gaze still fixed on Seth. ‘Think about what I’ve said, won’t you, Mr Stanhope?’
‘Stay out of my business!’ But his words were lost on her as she cycled down the track.
He turned to the other men. A row of faces stared back at him silently. No one dared speak.
The gates creaked open and the bus came through. Straight away the miners surged forward, tussling with the specials so they could reach up and bang the windows with their fists.
‘Blackleg filth!’
‘Go back where you came from, you in’t wanted here!’
But for once, Seth Stanhope didn’t join them. He was too busy staring at the nurse as she freewheeled away down the lane.
District Nurse on Call Page 23