For a Mother's Sins

by Diane Allen

  ‘Aye, that fell they call Rise Hill is going to be nowt compared to this bugger.’

  They both walked on, past the gangs of brick-layers and scaffold-builders, congratulating themselves and laughing. Then suddenly, from deep within the bowels of the tunnel, there was a deafening blast and a huge rush of air filled with debris that almost knocked them off their feet. Grit and dirt filled their lungs, making it almost impossible to breathe. They flung themselves to the floor of the tunnel as dirt and rubble blew over them. The ground under them shook, and the rumbling seemed to go on for ever. John could only lie still, covering his head and praying for it to stop.

  Little by little the noise subsided enough for him to hear the coughing and spluttering of tunnel workers. John lifted his head, tried to clear his lungs, and raised himself up to assess the damage. He turned to the leader of the Dent gang, lying alongside him.

  ‘Come on, mate, let’s go. There’ll be a lot of casualties after that fall.’

  There was no response. John shook the man’s shoulder: still nothing. He pulled on the shoulder, turning him over. It was then that he saw the spike of scaffolding wood that had pierced the man’s neck. In the dim light of those few oil lamps that had stayed lit, he could see that the man’s clothes were drenched in the blood that had flowed from his wound. He was dead.

  John slumped on his knees, overcome with anguish. Only a minute ago they’d been laughing and celebrating, and now one of them was dead. It could so easily have been his body, lying on the ground. Suddenly the tunnel seemed more like a tomb, its dark walls closing in and what air there was in the chamber so full of dust and debris that he felt he was being smothered. Fear gripped him. He knew he had to get out of this place. Lungs bursting with the effort, he ran the five hundred yards to the entrance, though it seemed more like five hundred miles between him and the daylight and the gentle rain.

  Rescue teams were rushing into the tunnel to help the dead and the wounded. In their haste, a couple of the rescuers jostled past, bumping shoulders with John and knocking him to the side of the track. When he finally made it out into the fresh dale air, he collapsed on the ground, gasping to fill his lungs, letting his tears mingle with the raindrops coursing down his face. Never again would he go into the dark bowels of hell. He was finished in the tunnel.

  Hands shaking, he wiped the earth from his face, leaving tear-stained streaks on his cheeks. His legs could barely carry him as he climbed the railway bank to the heather-covered fell. He stumbled and tumbled the mile back down to Batty Green, ignoring the men who stopped to ask if he was all right and whether he knew who had been caught in the fall. All he wanted was to get to the safety of Molly’s arms.

  ‘You’re all right, pet, you’re with me now.’ Molly was on her knees, holding John’s hands while he shook and wept openly.

  ‘He was dead, Moll. One minute we were having a laugh, and the next thing I knew, he was dead. That’s the second time my number’s almost come up. I can’t face going back in there again.’

  ‘You don’t have to, pet. I’d rather have you than the Midland’s blood money.’ Molly stroked his dusty blond hair and cradled him in her arms. ‘Tell that bloody lot where to put their job. I’m not having another of my men lost for the sake of a bloody railway line.’

  ‘But we need the money. You can’t do owt without money.’ John wiped his nose and looked up at her. ‘Nay, lass, give me a day or two and I’ll be all right. What would my mother say if she could see me, bawling like a baby? She’d probably kick my arse good and proper.’

  Molly stood back, arms crossed. She’d lived with the fear of what might happen ever since the last time he’d almost been killed. The memory of that day, when she’d wept over a mangled body, believing it to be his, had never left her. No amount of money was worth going through that.

  ‘You’ll not be going back, John, not as long as I have breath in my body – and that’s final.’

  ‘He was nearly killed, Helen. We can’t go on like that – I can’t lose him, I can’t!’ Molly leaned on her broom. She hadn’t wanted to leave John on his own after what had happened, but he’d insisted that he’d be all right while she went to work. She turned to her friend, who was wiping the tables down.

  ‘But what else can the pair of you do? There’s no other work to be had around here, lass.’ Helen resumed wiping the table, but then she pulled up suddenly and turned back to Molly, who was gazing out of the window. ‘I think I must be bloody daft! Why didn’t I think of this before!’ she shrieked.

  ‘What?’ Molly was looking bewildered, wondering what had got into her.

  ‘I don’t need to sell the pub – I’ll be all right living back with my mum. So why don’t I rent it to you and John? You know the job, he’s had enough working on the railway, and it would mean Lizzie would have a job too, when the railway moves on.’ Helen grinned. ‘It’d be perfect for you all!’ She placed her hands on her hips and waited for Molly to respond.

  ‘You can’t afford not to sell – and we can’t afford the rent,’ said Molly with a shake of her head.

  ‘Listen to me, Molly Mason: you’re not to say a word to anyone, but I’m not short of a bob or two. Remember how Henry used to loan the fellas money and charge them interest? He never spent a penny of that on us – the bugger stashed the whole lot away. I found it in the cellar after he’d gone. There’s more than enough to see me and the kids right. We won’t be going short, the way we did when Henry was around.’ She walked over to Molly and touched her arm. ‘I owe you more than money can buy for looking after my lass in her last hours, and for helping me out in my hour of need. If you’re interested in taking the inn on, the first month’s rent is on me – that’ll give you a bit of time to get on your feet. Why not see what John says? I know the pair of you could run it with one hand tied behind your backs. You’d be doing me a favour, looking after this place . . .’ Her lip trembled and tears began to flow as she added, ‘And you could do me a favour and put flowers on our Florrie’s grave.’

  Molly’s response was another shake of the head. ‘John will not take charity – you’d have to charge us something. And our takings would be lower than yours because I can’t cook. I do appreciate your offer, Helen, but it just wouldn’t work.’

  Helen ignored her. She was too busy working it all out in her head. ‘Just think of the folk that’ll come once the railway’s finished. They’re already taking rides out on a Sunday to look at the viaduct, and it isn’t even finished. Once my brood’s cleared off, you’ll have rooms to spare – you could let them out.’ Her enthusiasm for the idea was growing by the minute. At the back of her mind she’d been wondering whether it would be legal for her to sell the pub, seeing as Henry’s name was on the deeds and in the eyes of the law he was ‘missing’ rather than dead. This way she would still own the pub and get an income from it, plus she’d have the comfort of knowing she could trust her tenants.

  ‘I’ll talk to him. But there’s still the problem of the cooking – and that’s what you make your money on.’ Molly was uncertain. She looked around the bar-room, picturing herself running it. Helen was right, there would be two spare bedrooms once the Parker family left: that at least would be easy money!

  ‘You’d soon get the hang of it: beef hot-pot, rib of beef with Yorkshire puds, mutton stew – stick to straightforward grub, that’s what people want.’ Helen rattled off the menu without even thinking about it. ‘And the odd apple pie, if you’ve time.’

  ‘It might be straightforward to you, but I’ve never cooked for that many people. As for pastry – the stuff I turn out might as well be cardboard. I can’t even do mashed tatties without grey lumps in.’

  ‘Think about it,’ Helen said firmly. Then she went about her business, humming under her breath. With a bit of luck, her friend’s life would be a little more settled from hereon.

  ‘She offered you what?’ John was struggling to take it all in.

  Since she’d left the Welcome Inn, Molly had thou
ght of little else. Why shouldn’t they take the pub on? John could easily help her, a man behind the bar made it seem more respectable. Ever since Henry had gone missing, folk had commented that it wasn’t the same, even though they had hated his guts when he’d been there.

  It would also mean that Lizzie would have a home at last and that would be something to be grateful for.

  ‘It could be ours, John. Just think, you could be behind your own bar, like your Mike up the road.’

  ‘Nay, I’ll never be like him! He’s sold his soul to his in-laws. What would my mother say? Two brothers, brought up strict Methodists, and both of us running pubs! She’d be turning in her grave!’ He couldn’t help laughing at the thought.

  ‘And Lizzie would have her own bedroom – we’d have a proper roof over our heads, solid brick walls instead of a flimsy shanty. There’s even a couple of spare rooms that we could rent out.’ She paused, biting her lip. ‘There’s only one problem. I’m not the best of cooks and the food is where Helen makes her money, especially since the tokens came in. Folk aren’t drinking like they used to.’

  But Molly’s excitement was soon bubbling to the surface again as she tried to imagine all their knick-knacks placed around the rooms, John pulling pints behind the bar . . . She’d manage the cooking somehow.

  ‘Aye, well, there are some good things about it,’ said John, nodding. ‘It would get me away from the railway, for a start. Then there’s the stables behind the pub: we could charge for stabling horses. I don’t know why the Parkers never did that. He was an idle bugger, that Henry – made more money through threats than work. Let me sleep on it, lass. I’ll let you know in the morning.’ He rubbed his head, it was a lot to think about, and his mind was still all over the place with memories of the tunnel collapse flooding his thoughts. He didn’t know how many of his workmates had made it out alive. The rescue effort was still ongoing. Some of those who had been brought out were in a bad way and seemed unlikely to survive.

  ‘And where will you be in the morning?’ Molly coyly enquired.

  ‘Well, lass, I thought I’d be with you. I’ll need a comforting hand through the night.’ He grinned.

  ‘Oh, will you now? And what if I don’t want you here?’ Molly couldn’t resist teasing him.

  ‘After all the times you’ve begged me to stay, you’re going to turn me out?’ he laughed.

  ‘Well, I suppose you can stay then . . . sleeping in the chair, of course!’

  John grabbed her and held her tight. ‘Nay, lass. I hope that bed doesn’t make a lot of noise, because if it does, Lizzie’s not going to get much sleep!’

  ‘Why, John Pratt, you need to watch what you’re saying! I’m just thankful she’s not back from work yet.’

  ‘Ahh, shut up, woman, and give me a kiss.’ He squeezed her tight and kissed her hard and firm on the lips. When he finally released her, he said, ‘I’ve enough saved up to pay for the vicar – how about marrying me quick? You better had if we’re going to be running that pub.’

  ‘What did you just say? I thought you wanted to sleep on it?’ Molly was flushed and breathless. Could all this really be hers? Marriage and a pub?

  ‘Well, we’d better do it properly if we’re going to do it. And I reckon we’d be bloody stupid if we didn’t take Helen up on her offer. I can just see myself with an apron on, opening beer casks for my customers while the drunks admire my wife. I don’t need the night to sleep on it and anyway I’ve better things to do in bed with a woman like you than think about business.’

  ‘Oh, John!’ Molly hugged him and kissed him all over, only to be interrupted by Lizzie slamming the hut door and bursting into tears.

  She stomped past the embracing couple and sat down next to the stove.

  ‘What ever’s up, pet? Why all the tears? John’s fine – look, he’s here, he didn’t get hurt in the tunnel collapse.’ Molly went to console her daughter.

  ‘It’s George, Mam. He’s . . . he’s going back to Leeds. I’ll never see him again! What am I going to do? I love him.’ Lizzie sobbed into her hankie, heartbroken that her first crush was leaving her.

  ‘Aye, you wanted nowt to do with him anyway. He’s one of them, lass, he’s not our sort.’ Molly hugged her sobbing daughter.

  ‘Your mother’s right. We’ve our ways and they’ve theirs. He’d only have used you, lass.’ John tousled her hair and looked on helpless as she cried her heart out.

  ‘What do you know? You’re both old, you don’t know how I feel.’ She sobbed and wiped her tears before walking to her bed and throwing herself upon it to bury her head in her pillow.

  John took a step towards her but Molly held him back.

  ‘Leave her, John. She’ll get over it. I can remember when I lost my first beau. You never forget, your first love is always special.’ She pulled the dividing curtain to give Lizzie her privacy. ‘Let’s go and have a quick stroll before I go back to help Helen with the evening crowd. It’s grand out, the days are getting longer. It’ll soon be summer.’ She grabbed John’s hand and urged him outside, threading her arm through his as they strolled down the Hawes Road.

  ‘Would you look at that sunset!’ Both turned and gazed at the golden rays of the setting sun filtering through low cloud over the dark shape of the partly built viaduct. The fellside of Whernside was lit up in a blaze of golden light, highlighting the white shapes of sheep as they grazed their last mouthful of moorland feed before nightfall. A lonesome curlew sang its haunting song overhead and the smell of peat and heather filled the air.

  ‘Once all the huts and the navvies have gone it will be a beautiful place. The sort of place where we will all enjoy living, even Lizzie, once she gets over George. It’s so hard at that age. She probably feels her whole world is coming to an end. Happen she’ll feel different in the morning, poor lass. She’s bound to fall in love again before long. Someone usually comes around the corner when you least expect them.’

  ‘Is that what I did?’ John sat on an outcrop of limestone and pulled Molly to sit down beside him.

  ‘Nay, I was a lost soul, and you know it. I wasn’t coping at all well.’ Molly blushed, remembering how she had almost become dependent on drink. ‘If it hadn’t been for your mother taking Lizzie in, I’d probably be in that churchyard with everybody else. And then you made yourself known, and look where we are now: sitting on a big lump of stone with our whole lives in front of us!’ She giggled and kissed John on the cheek.

  ‘Let’s do it, lass – let’s get married, run the Welcome and start a family.’ John hugged Molly tight and kissed her gently on the forehead. ‘You’re beautiful, Molly Mason, and I’m a lucky man.’

  ‘Family . . . I don’t know about family. I’ve done my bit for children, but perhaps it would be nice to hear the patter of tiny feet again. I miss my Tommy and I wasn’t the best of mothers to him.’ Molly felt tears coming to her eyes. She was crying too for the baby she’d miscarried and never told anyone about, not even John, the father. She only hoped she could have children after that.

  ‘You’d no choice, lass. This time it’ll be different.’ He patted her hand. ‘Come on, that sun’s going down and there’s still a nip in the air.’ John stood up and pulled her to her feet. ‘Time for you to go to work. Tell Helen we’ll take her up on her offer. And while you’re doing that, I’ll go and see our lovelorn Lizzie.

  ‘Should I tell Helen tonight? Do you really think we can take it on?’ Molly was almost trotting to keep up with John’s long strides. ‘I can’t cook, you know.’ Waves of doubt kept washing over her every time she thought of that drawback. It was a lot to take on.

  ‘If we don’t grab this, we’ll be following the railway to Carlisle. I’ve had enough and I want to settle down.’ They were back at the camp now and he stopped walking and turned to her. ‘Tell Helen we gratefully accept her offer – we’ll worry what to do about your cooking when we’re in there!’ He winked at her, held her tight and kissed her once again. Catching sight of Doctor Thistlethwaite
watching them from the steps of the hospital, he shouted, ‘Go on, lass, this is the beginning of our new future!’ as Molly walked away.

  Tipping his cap at the doctor, he set off along the track back to the hut whistling a merry tune. He knew he was the better man for Molly, and by gum he liked rubbing the doctor’s nose in it.

  ‘Rats were playing dominoes last night,’ said Lizzie cheekily, looking over the breakfast table at her mother and John. She’d heard the bed-head knocking against the hut’s walls on the other side of the curtain.

  ‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’ Molly spooned the porridge out and looked slyly at her daughter. ‘Anyway, John and I have something to tell you – haven’t we, John?

  ‘Aye, that’s right. If you’re able to face news, after your heartbreak of yesterday.’ John tickled her under the chin and smiled.

  Lizzie’s face dropped, thinking again about her George. ‘I know I was upset, and I still am. I’m going to miss him. I think I love him.’

  ‘Never mind, pet. Plenty more fish in the sea – and they’ll all be fighting over you, my girl. Now, listen to our news.’ Molly couldn’t bear to keep it to herself a moment longer. ‘John and I are going to get married!’

  ‘Is that all? You told me that before – why tell me again when George is leaving me?’ Lizzie sulkily stirred another helping of sugar into her porridge.

  ‘Is that all we get, Miss Misery? Anyway, we’ve more to tell you.’ Molly drew a deep breath and launched into the news she’d been saving: ‘We’re going to live and work in the Welcome – Helen’s moving back to her family and she’s going to rent the place to John and me. Soon you’ll soon have your own room and a proper home! You can have first pick of the bedrooms, I promise.’