Rachel is too tired to argue with Jenny. “Agreed.”
“Lovely. You high powered career women wouldn’t know what to do with yourselves if you didn’t have plain idle cows like me around to make you feel better about yourselves.”
Chapter 6
The furthest Idris Maddox has been away from home before is Barry Island and that was just a day trip to the seaside with the Miners’ Welfare club.
They had arrived at Barry in two crammed coach loads, miners and their families, swarming out from the buses buzzing with excitement. They’d gone on the rides at White Brothers’ Funfair until their money ran out and then made their way to the beach to go paddle in the sea. Idris remembers the faint shock he’d felt as colliers he had worked many shifts alongside suddenly abandoned their shoes and rolled up their trousers, revealing bits of themselves Idris had not seen before. Puffs of greying chest hair, knobbly ankles and feet pale as milk. Vulnerable, intimate flesh.
The coaches had returned home to the Rhondda full of happy people, their faces tinted pink by their day of fun and sunshine and the salty tang of the sea on their lips.
The port of Liverpool is far busier than Barry Island, busier than ten Barry Islands. Idris lets the rush and bustle of the place wash over him, allows himself to share in the excitement of the hundreds of people who like him are emigrating to a New World and a better life. He concentrates on this rather than thinking of leaving the Rhondda that morning. How his father and brother had set their faces tight and hard so as not to show any emotion but how when he’d embraced his mother a noise of such sadness had seeped out of her that he had wondered whether he could leave after all. How Tommy had made some excuse about Maggie feeling a little under the weather and not being able to come and say goodbye but that she sent her best wishes. Best wishes is all he will ever get from Maggie and that made the leaving not only possible but necessary.
All these people at the port of Liverpool, pushing and jostling their way to new opportunities, carry Idris along on their tide of high spirits and expectation. They sweep him onto the SS Montroyal, bound for Quebec, which will be his home for the next six days.
Being a third class passenger isn’t half bad in Idris’ estimation. There is food – plenty of it – with a main meal in the middle of the day and beef tea and sandwiches at teatime. Sleeping accommodation is shared and cramped but that does not bother a miner who is used to being in close proximity to other men. Idris has smelled far worse. People are kind to each other, bound together in their shared adventure, and there is always someone to chat to if chat is what you are looking for.
Idris himself is not very good at small talk and prefers to spend as much time as possible out walking on the deck. He is lucky not to suffer from seasickness and he enjoys the rise and swell of the sea, even enjoys the lurch in his stomach which reminds him of the rides at White Brothers’ fun fair. He soon recognises the other people who like being outside on the decks too. There aren’t many of them. A couple in their fifties, who are outside every bit as much as Idris but who always walk very gingerly, holding tight onto each other, as if scared that a puff of wind will suddenly sweep one of them up and blow them overboard. A dad and three sons, who sit companionably together on a bench, looking out across the sea, saying very little. Two girls in their early teens, sisters most likely but close in age, who lean over the rails and into the wind, wearing summer dresses too thin to keep them warm. They let the wind whip their hair around their faces. Both have long, pale blonde hair; mostly all Idris sees on this ship are women in hats. The hats look like bells and under the hats the women have chin length bobs, sometimes straight, sometimes tightly waved. It’s as if the women mould their bobs under their hats, easing their hairstyles out, like cakes from tins.
The girls giggle as their hair flies around their faces and Idris likes the carefree sound of their laughter; their carefree hair. The clear bond between them makes him feel a sharp pang of loss for Tommy.
On the third day of the voyage only one of the young girls is out on the deck, the slightly older one. Idris surprises himself by talking to her when she walks past him.
“Only you today?”
“Yes, my sister is not feeling very well. I’m fine though.”
“That’s good to hear. I am fine too.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.”
The pleasantries are over and really Idris should move on, but he stays where he is. He can think of nothing else to say, the girl is much younger than him and it is not attraction to her that is keeping him there, but she is alone and so is Idris, so he stays.
“Would you like to walk with me a little?” he asks awkwardly, for he is far from certain he actually wants her to take a walk with him.
She hesitates.
“I’m perfectly safe, I assure you. My name is Idris. I’m from the Rhondda Valleys in Wales.”
“Is being from the Rhondda Valleys a guarantee of being an upstanding, decent sort of person?
“Of course.”
“In that case I’ll come for a walk with you. I’m called Jean. From Edinburgh.”
They do four circuits of the ship in total. Jean explains that she is almost 15 and her sister Janet is 13. They are travelling with a group of girls from the Orphan Homes of Scotland – more than 50 girls in total – who are emigrating. Many of the children, Jean and Janet included, are orphans. But there are some whose parents have had to hand over their children so as to secure them a better life.
“Some of them are tiny – four or five – and they cry all the time, missing their mams. It doesn’t matter whether they are dead or alive. Their mams are not on this ship with them either way. It’s pitiful. That’s why Janet and I come up here so often. There’s only so much cuddling we can manage before it sets the two of us off weeping. Our mother died when we were babies and neither of us can remember her and you can’t miss what you never had but it was only January we lost our dad and we’ve had a rough road since then. Got kicked out of our house within a few days of his going and ended up taking ourselves off to the Quarriers. It was pretty there – out in the countryside – but the Dominion needs us so that’s where we’re going to live now. We’re part of the golden bridge across the Atlantic. Dad would have liked that – me and Janet being part of something golden.”
“What’s going to happen to you when we arrive?”
“We all go to a home first, in a place called Brockville in Ontario. From there the Quarriers will arrange for us to be taken in by a family and get trained up as servants. We’ve asked for a big house where there’s room for both me and Janet so we can stay together. A place that needs hard workers like us.”
“What about the little ones?”
“They’ll be adopted by families in Canada, farmers and the like. They’ll have good homes, open countryside and plenty of food. And what are you hoping to find in Canada?”
“Work and a fresh start. I’m a collier, came out on the general strike, but only us miners stayed out. The rest of the TUC are cowards and gave in after ten days. I’m told there’s work in Canada for experienced miners and plenty of coalmines in Nova Scotia. Alberta too. Going to see where my feet lead me when we land.”
“New beginning for us all then…”
Janet’s health doesn’t improve and for the next few days Jean and Idris walk the decks together. Being so much younger than him, he figures she must understand that the time he spends with her is offered in friendship – like an older brother – much the same way as she cares for the younger children in her group.
Friendship is all that Idris has to offer. He is too taken up with how he feels about Maggie for anything else. His mind boils with the memory of the time he spent with her before he left Wales – at night, he can feel and taste her as if she were lying in the bunk next to him, her hand on his thigh and her breath warm in his ear. He yearns for Maggie but that is nothing new. He has yearned for her for years, every second she spent with his brother and not him. Yearni
ng for Maggie was part of his life long before she actually married Tommy. But now as well as yearning he also feels guilt for betraying his brother.
He dreams of Maggie every night. They are on Clydach Vale mountain making love. Maggie’s legs are wrapped tight around him and he has one hand up her blouse, resting on her breast, the other cradling her head. He is kissing her. Long, deep kisses. The dream is vivid and exciting. Idris breaks away from the kiss so he can look at Maggie’s pretty face. Her big brown eyes with such long eyelashes, the soft colour in her cheeks, the curve of her beautiful lips. Suddenly he becomes aware that someone is watching them; that it is in fact Tommy who is watching them. The look on Tommy’s face – the disgust, the hatred, the sorrow – it is this look that always wakes Idris up. He wakes with a shock – glad to be awake and free from the dream – but with a fading erection which just makes him feel even more guilty.
Talking with Jean – the easy, companionable way she talks – takes his mind off Maggie. He likes to listen to her strong Scots accent and after so many tours of the ship’s deck he no longer struggles to understand her. She is thrilled with the wooden trunk given to each girl by the Quarriers for their journey and the abundance of clothes within – including three nightgowns, three chemises, two summer frocks, two winter frocks, every item and the trunk itself clearly marked with their names. A straw hat in a box for Sunday. A Bible and the prayer book.
She is a good storyteller and recounts the funny things the Quarrier children say to make Idris laugh. She describes life in Edinburgh – the good bits before her father died and the sad bits afterwards – and she tells him, quietly confident, of the happiness she expects to find in Canada. Jean is brimful of hope and Idris stands close to her so that some of this hope might leak into him.
*
“Am I allowed to recover from this mystery illness of mine today,” Janet asks her sister. “It’s very boring being cooped up down here all day. If I don’t get some air soon I am going to end up a genuine invalid. Is your ploy working?”
“I don’t know, Janet. He likes me, I know he likes me. But I believe he considers me still a child.”
“He wouldn’t if he could hear you talking about him. All that stuff about his wide shoulders and his lovely brown hair and how when he speaks it sounds like singing. Strewth – he’d work out soon enough if he heard you prattle on about him non-stop that you’re no child.”
“There’s only one day left Janet. We’ll be arriving in Quebec tomorrow. Can you carry on being ill a bit longer?”
“No, I can’t. It smells down here. Today I am making a recovery. I promise not to be well enough to join you as you walk round the ship for hours but I will be feeling some cool air on my face. You’ll just have to find a way of getting a forwarding address to him. With any luck he’ll come visit.”
“Have you any idea just how big Canada is Janet?
“I know, it’s enormous. But you and me, we deserve a bit of luck, Jeanie.”
*
As soon as the SS Montroyal is within sight of the Canadian coast the passengers start making preparations to disembark. It takes the best part of a day for the ship to make its way along the St Lawrence river and the buzz of excitement from the passengers rises steadily until they arrive at Quebec City.
Idris threads through the crowd of passengers. Finally, he finds what he is looking for. The gaggle of Quarrier children. They look so little, so weary and lost. Pity for them thumps Idris in the chest. Janet and Jean are easy to spot as there are very few teenagers in the group. Tall and slim, their blonde hair loose to their shoulders, they move amongst the younger girls, instructing them to hold onto each other’s hands, to step carefully down the ramp. Jean places her hand gently on top of one child’s head, wipes another’s nose. Idris doesn’t know why but he feels compelled to stay close to the children. He wants to protect them – all of them – although he doesn’t know what it is they might need protecting from.
Jean has been watching out for him too. Idris sees the smile that floods her face when she spots him, realises for the first time two things that should have been obvious to him for some days. That she is very pretty and that she is sweet on him. She twists and turns through the crowd of children to reach him.
“Idris. I’m so glad to see you.” Her voice is wavering with emotion. “I was frightened I’d miss you and not get the chance to give you this.” She hands him a piece of paper. “It’s the address of the children’s home in Brockville that we are all going to first. We’ll be allocated new homes from there. If you write to me at this address, I will get your letter eventually.”
Idris doesn’t say anything. He looks briefly at the piece of paper, sees that Janet and Jean are destined for the Distributing Home for Scotch Children and Canadian Orphan Home.
“Promise you’ll write to me Idris? When you have an address. I’ll write back to let you know where Janet and I end up. The minute I get your letter I’ll write back. ”
He hesitates, but when he sees the look of disappointment in her eyes he relents. He folds the piece of paper and puts it in his pocket.
“I promise to write to you Jean.”
“Cross your heart and hope to die?”
Idris draws the shape of a cross across his chest with his finger.
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
*
Idris has not given much thought to what he would do when he got off the boat. His focus has been on the process of leaving the Rhondda and of getting to Canada, not on what would happen once he was actually there. He had told Jean he would let his feet lead him when they landed. Only now that he’s here, his feet seem unwilling to choose a destination. He wasn’t exactly expecting to see mine owners queuing up on the dock to greet him, holding big placards aloft advertising vacancies for Welsh miners, but maybe on reflection that was precisely what he had been expecting. He certainly had not been expecting the other passengers of the SS Montroyal to disappear so quickly. Off to take the train or the bus or simply walk to their new lives in the New World.
He and Maggie had talked a little about what it would be like when he arrived in Quebec. How strange it would be to finally arrive in a new country and how everyone would be speaking French. But they’d had other things to do beyond talking and the conversations had never got further than arriving at this dock.
On the form he’d had to fill in for Canadian immigration there was a question about what trade or occupation he’d followed in his own country and what trade or occupation he intended to follow in Canada. His answer to both had been miner which was true. He’d also had to state the address to which he was going in Canada and having nowhere lined up he’d lied and given an address in Toronto he’d overheard one of the passengers talking about. He knows that where he will find coalmines is in Nova Scotia and Alberta. Alberta involves a long journey west across Canada. Nova Scotia makes the most sense, being closer to Quebec City. Only he finds, now he thinks about it, he doesn’t much want to go to either. Nor does he want to waste any of his small amount of money on overnight lodgings in Quebec. Finally his feet make a decision and he starts walking to the train station. He will take the train that so many of the passengers on SS Montroyal had been planning to take. He will go to Toronto.
Chapter 7
“I did tell you they were coming Gareth. You must have forgotten. Old age doesn’t come alone, as your mother likes to say.”
“I did not forget Rachel. You forgot to tell me. Believe me, I’d remember if you had told me that your sister and her husband and their eerily well-behaved teenager were coming for dinner. In about an hour.”
“Why? Because you would have come up with some work crisis that meant you had to stay late. On a Friday night?”
“No! Well yes! Maybe. Nick, sorry Nicholas, is OK even if he is an investment wanker and barely says two words but Jocelyn…we just don’t see eye to eye.”
“You never have Gareth. You think she’s a snob and that makes you come ov
er all scrappy working class, like you’ve just finished a shift and the mine owners are demanding you go back underground for a few more hours.”
“I am working class. My grandfather was a miner, remember.”
“You never let me and the children forget it! But you are a corporate lawyer earning a comfortable salary. You are about as working class as David Cameron lounging around the beaches of Cornwall wearing his Boden shorts.” Rachel waves her arms around airily in an expansive gesture that takes in their large house, their leafy garden, the glass of Sancerre they are each holding.
“Don’t take the piss out of me Rachel. I’ve had a tough week. I was looking forward to spending Friday night with my wife and children.”
“You’re just grumpy because I’ve given my sister our bedroom.”
“And now you’re telling me there’s no chance of a Friday Fuck!”
When they first met, before they had children, Gareth and Rachel used to celebrate the end of the working week with a leisurely Friday Fuck and then go to the pub. With a house full of children, Friday Fucks are rarely anything other than a fond memory these days.
“My poor deprived husband,” Rachel says wrapping her arms around his neck to comfort him. Gareth sighs overdramatically, hanging his shoulders down like the children did when they were little and disappointed.
“They’re only here for one night. They’ll be on their way to Pembrokeshire by mid-morning tomorrow.”
“How come your sister is gracing Wales for the weekend anyway? I thought investment bankers favoured Cornwall along with the Camerons.”
“Some friend of theirs just bought a cottage in Newport and invited them. Didn’t you know darling? Pembrokeshire is the new Cornwall. Now go hop in the shower and I’ll feed Jake quickly and then start getting our supper ready.”
“Didn’t you know love? Here in Wales, supper is two Rich Tea biscuits and a cup of Horlicks before bedtime. Want to come hop in the shower with me? I’ll wash your back for you.”
Thicker Than Water Page 6