The Rocking Stone

by Jill Rutherford

  As I stepped inside I said, ‘Let me help you with the washing up, Mrs Mallow.’ I put on my pinny and picked up the tea towel, busying myself to disguise my shaking hands. After a while, Dudley came back in and closed the door gently. I could see he was furious, but afraid to upset his mother. His face was as white as a new sheet and a huge frown dominated it. His mother’s back was to him as she washed up.

  ‘Thanks, Mam,’ he said casually, ‘must be going. See you next week.’

  He glanced at Tom and ignored me as he disappeared through the front door. I felt joy surge through me. I’d found his Achilles’ heel and hurt him.

  *

  Mrs Mallow kept undermining me in all sorts of little ways. We’d got on well enough before the marriage, but now, living together, we rubbed each other up the wrong way. I think she thought things would stay the same but I had my ideas of how Tom and I should live and they were not hers. Tom would tell me what he fancied for his dinner, but Mrs Mallow would say that was not enough for a miner and would prepare him something entirely different. She criticised the way I did the washing, the way I used the iron, I’d not got the best vegetables in the market, I’d let people cheat me, I was a bad shopper. It went on and on. She had her own ways and she wanted me to do the same. She couldn’t change – or wouldn’t.

  I tackled Tom again about it while we were in our bedroom, getting ready for bed. ‘She’s making my life miserable, Tom. I can’t do anything right and she sometimes comes after me and does the job over. She doesn’t say anything, but then, she doesn’t need to. I can’t bear it any more. You have to do something. Help me, Tom. Please help me with this.’

  ‘I can’t. You know I can’t.’

  ‘I don’t know any such thing. I’m your wife. You have to support me.’

  He climbed into bed and propped himself up on the pillows. ‘Look,’ he said as I joined him, ‘we’ve had this conversation before. You know I can’t go against her.’

  ‘Why ever not? Why take her side before me, your wife’s? I don’t understand.’

  He ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath. ‘Kate, you know how much I love you. You know that.’

  ‘Well, then, show me. Show me how much you love me. Stick up for me.’

  ‘I can’t go against her.’

  ‘You’ve already said that, and keep your voice down, she can hear you. She’s always listening.’

  ‘I think you’re being unreasonable. You know my mother’s history. You know she took me in when I was a baby. No one else wanted me. She gave me my life, kept me healthy and went without food so that I could eat. She made many sacrifices for me.’

  I sighed. ‘Many mothers do that. That’s their job.’

  ‘She lost her husband and thinks it was her fault. She persuaded him to go to war when he could have stayed here safe in the mines.’

  ‘But he could have died in a pit accident like so many others. And he chose to go and fight. He didn’t go just because she pushed him. He had a choice.’

  ‘And then there’s Dudley,’ he said with emphasis.

  ‘Ah! Dudley! Now maybe we’re coming to the point.’

  ‘Look, Kate, she took my side against Dudley many times. She protected me from him. I couldn’t have survived without her support. I owe her everything. I love her.’

  ‘More than me: I see.’ I was deeply hurt. ‘I see how it is. You put your mother above me because you love her more than me.’

  ‘Oh, Kate, I didn’t mean it like that. I love you just as much.’

  ‘But not more.’

  ‘This is getting us nowhere. A man loves his mother and his wife, especially a good mother like mine. I think you’re being over sensitive. Wives always have to adjust to mothers-in-law. It’s the way it is.’

  ‘Yes, and some mothers-in-law take advantage of that.’

  ‘Oh, Kate . . .’

  ‘She doesn’t want to give you up. That’s what this is all about. She doesn’t want you to have a wife, but you’re a normal man, you have to have one, she can’t change that, so she’ll make do as long as she rules. She was all for our marriage before, so maybe she thought she could rule me. Thought I was pliable because I didn’t say much and kept to myself. Well, she’s got another thing coming. I won’t have it, I tell you. I may be pliable on the outside, but inside I’m a fighter. She’s just selfish and jealous and can’t bear our being happy.’

  ‘You’re being unreasonable.’

  ‘Unreasonable! You dare to call me unreasonable. How dare you.’

  I got down under the blankets and turned my back on him. Dudley and his mother had come between us again and I didn’t tell him what I’d been longing to all day. I’d wanted to wait until we were alone. The doctor had confirmed I was pregnant.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I took Tom up to the rocking stone a few days later. We sat on it looking out at the town below us, holding hands. ‘Do you remember,’ he said, ‘this is where everything changed for us - this rocking stone.’

  I squeezed his hand tighter. ‘I always think of it as our place, our special place. It brought us together . . . and now . . . well, I hope it will keep us together.’

  He looked at me, quizzically. ‘What do you mean? You’re scaring me. Keep us together?’

  ‘Yes, my lovely, Tom. Keep us together – and add to our number.’

  He jumped off the stone and stood in front of me. ‘Y-you mean?’

  I was grinning so hard I couldn’t speak, so I nodded.

  ‘A baby?’ He said in wonder as he looked into my eyes and stroked my hair. ‘A real baby?’

  I laughed. ‘Yes, Tom, a real baby. Our baby.’

  Tom’s eyes filled with tears. ‘God, mun, I’m so proud. Proud of you and yes, I’ll say it, proud of me!’

  We laughed together and I felt reassured by his obvious love for me.

  One Sunday a few weeks later, Mrs Mallow and I were in the kitchen getting our things ready for church. We were on the point of leaving when Aunty Annie came crashing through our front door so fast she ended up hitting the staircase before she could stop. We heard the thump and it must have been painful, but she didn’t acknowledge it, just shouted, ‘Kate, it’s Daddy.’ She paused in the open doorway of our kitchen as she took in several lung full’s of air and angrily pushed back the hair which had fallen out of her bun onto her face.

  ‘There’s been an accident at the pit and he’s badly hurt.’

  My heart flew into my throat as I gasped. It had come then. The dread every miner’s family lives with. Mrs Mallow was the first to react. ‘Oh, my God, go quickly, Kate.’

  Aunty and I ran for a while, but had to stop before our lungs burst and we developed a half-run, half-walk gait that got us the two miles to the Albion pit. My father always worked on Sundays as that was the only day in the week that the pit was closed. As he was the fireman he had the responsibility of making sure the pit was safe for work the following week and that there was no build up of gas. Make sure the ventilation shafts were working, the pit shafts in good condition, the track and trams serviceable: everything really. It was a very responsible job, but it did mean that he was almost alone underground with only a few men to assist him. Not ideal if something goes wrong.

  All sorts of thoughts were going through my mind, most of them denial. It couldn’t possibly be true, no, not my dad, he was always so careful, life couldn’t be so cruel. I wasn’t sure I could cope. No, it would be alright, there was some mistake. A couple of ambulances passed us going in the opposite direction with their bells ringing and we stopped and looked at them as they sped by, but we remained silent. We couldn’t even think the unthinkable.

  When we got to the entrance of the pit there was a gathering of miners and Aunty shouted out, ‘Matt Williams, what’s happened to Matt Williams?’

  They all turned and looked at us but their eyes slid away quickly. Then the pit manager approached us. ‘Mrs Williams, I’m so sorry. Your husband’s been involved in an acci
dent underground and has been taken in an ambulance to Cardiff Infirmary.’

  I could see Aunty was struggling with her emotions. ‘What happened?’ I asked. My voice sounded like sandpaper in my dry throat.

  The manager looked uncomfortable. He was a tall, thin man, more suited to a vicar than a mine manager. He cleared his throat. ‘He was underground doing safety checks with some other men and while they were carrying out these duties, as far as we can gather at this stage, six or seven trams broke loose of their housing and ran into them without warning. Mr Williams was crushed along with a couple of other men. All were seriously injured, but Mr Williams was the worst. I’m so sorry, it was an accident.’

  Aunty surprised me by shouting, ‘Aye, you look like you’re sorry too. How could such a thing happen? Trams don’t usually run free unless they weren’t secured properly in the first place. Someone should answer for this.’

  ‘Believe me, it was just an accident, Mrs Williams. No one is to blame I’m sure. We’ll look into this very thoroughly,’ he replied calmly, condescendingly.

  This spurred Aunty to shout, indignant, ‘Ha! Like you looked into Ben Evans’ death last month? Not our fault, just an act of God, you managers said. Act of God my foot. Act of greedy management more like. Your owners want ever more blood out of our men and it’s not possible you know. They give you enough already. It’s about time you gave something back.’

  ‘Now, now, Mrs Williams, you’re upset. That’s natural. I’m sure Matt will be very well looked after at the infirmary. We’re in touch by telephone; we’ll let you know if there’s any news.’

  I’ve never seen Aunty give such a withering look of contempt as she turned to walk away. And she shocked me to the core when she turned on her heels and said to him, ‘Up yours!’

  I’d never heard her say such a thing before. She was always the lady. It knocked the manager too, who paled considerably. Serve him right.

  Being a fireman meant my father was an official of the pit, part of management, albeit in a lowly capacity. But unlike most management, he was popular as he always played fair and looked after the men’s welfare, both above and below ground. He stuck up for them. He was the only official Tom had time for.

  We rushed back to my father’s house to get the money for the train to Cardiff. Aunty picked up the tin on the mantelpiece where they kept their money, and looked inside. She knew exactly how much was in there, every wife did, but she made a show of looking. She took out two ten-shilling notes and gave one to me and she took the other. ‘That’s in case we get separated. You need money in Cardiff. It’s not like being in Ponty where people know you.’

  I gasped. ‘Ten shillings, Aunty? That’s too much. We’ll never need that much.’

  ‘You never know,’ she said as she picked up her coat and handbag. ‘It’s better to have too much than too little.’ I couldn’t disagree with that.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘let’s collect your coat and bag and tell Mrs Mallow where we’re going.’

  *

  As we sat on the train, her look of shock and bewilderment touched me to the core. I tried to puff some hope into her. ‘He might be all right, Aunty. You know how strong he is. Don’t give up hope.’ But I knew my words were falling on deaf ears, as she looked at me with hopeless eyes. We both knew what ‘seriously injured’ meant. It was unlikely he would survive. It was almost more than I could bear. The journey was agony and I hoped against hope. He was a good father and I loved him and I began to regret not seeing him as often as I should have. Since my marriage I hadn’t seen much of them as Mrs Mallow had taken against Aunty Annie and there was some animosity there. I think it was because they were both strong women and rubbed each other up the wrong way. So, I went to see them every fourth Sunday to spend the afternoon with them, and sometimes, Tom came too. I loved that, my other new family coming together.

  When we got to the hospital we were told that it was all over. He’d died in the ambulance. They wouldn’t let us see him, said it was better to see him after the undertakers had done their job.

  Aunty said, ‘What more can they do to us? Will this misery never end?’

  I’d never heard her speak so before and didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. I desperately wanted to cling to her, like I had when I was a child. But I could see that she was only just holding on to her composure so I did no such thing. Our stiff upper lips clashed like gladiators and kept us apart.

  When we got back, to my surprise, Mrs Mallow was waiting on Ponty station for us. When she heard the news, she hugged me. This was the first time we had been so intimate with each other. I smelt the lavender she kept in her wardrobe on her clothes and carbolic soap. Our brief hug was followed by her strong hands gripping my shoulders as she gave them a little pat and nodded her head.

  Then she put her arms around Aunty and hugged her close. I’d never seen her do such a thing before and was deeply moved. Aunty burst into sobs and clung to Mrs Mallow like a distraught child to its mother. I was envious. I wished I’d had the courage to do that to Aunty.

  I hated the Albion Pit. It had ended the life of my grandfather in the pit explosion and now it had got my father.

  *

  The day of his funeral was warm and fine. I walked with Tom and Mrs Mallow in our black funeral clothes as we made our way through the streets and down the steps at the end of Graig Street. When we got to the bottom we continued descending as we went carefully down the steep, damp steps of the gully between the houses and the chapel. This was a short cut to Rickards Street where my father lived and we walked along it in silence. But as we rounded a corner we stopped in mid-stride as we saw what lay ahead. It took my breath away and Mrs Mallow gasped. In the distance there must have been more than a hundred miners gathered around my father’s house, all dressed in their funereal black. Black suits, ties, waistcoats, bowler hats and shoes with the only relief being their sparkling white shirts. Every miner had funeral clothes, no matter how poor.

  My father was a man of principle and mining was his life. He had often fought with management against cutting corners to speed up extraction. He couldn’t be bought and was respected and admired by both sides. I knew many a miner who’d come through the ranks like my father and been promoted to an official, who let this new power go to his head. Shouting at men from across the street, ‘Make sure you’re not late again, Jones. You’ll be in trouble if you are.’ Shouting out this kind of thing, and worse, when the poor man was walking with his mates, or devastatingly, with his family. It was disgraceful. But my father concentrated on building up a man’s self-worth and confidence. Making him feel he mattered and letting him know that he would fight for his welfare. Men were rarely late for him. And now they were showing their respect.

  A haze of smoke hovered above them like a cloud, as, almost to a man, they smoked roll-your-own-cigarettes, or puffed on pipes, and waited silently. With them, at least another one hundred people had gathered, making sure they kept separate from the miners. He belonged to many societies and organisations around the town and I realised just how popular my father had been. You could have heard a pin drop.

  Tom let out a long breath, ‘I’ll be,’ he said. I could see he looked as proud as I felt. The men all took their hats off as we passed them, saying nothing, but they didn’t need to.

  As Tom and Mrs Mallow went into the house, I saw Davy standing alone and apart from the others and went up to him. ‘Come into the house with us, Davy love. He was your father too.’

  ‘No, I won’t thanks.’ He looked upset. ‘I want to be here, but alone. I can’t come in with Aunty being there.’ I kissed him on the cheek and hugged him for the first time in years. That set him off and he started to cry. He was always an emotional boy, took things too hard I always thought. ‘I loved him,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I was such a disappointment to him.’

  ‘Oh, Davy, you weren’t, I know you weren’t. You mustn’t think like that.’

  ‘I wasn’t worthy of him, I know
that. He hated everything about me.’

  ‘No, he didn’t. He loved you. I know how upset he was when you left home.’

  ‘But he only came to see me once after that,’ he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffing. ‘If I bumped into him at the pit, he’d say, “Hello, how are you then?” And he’d walk on.’ He took out his hankie and blew his nose. ‘I didn’t want . . . oh, God, what a mess it all is, Kate. I was a disappointment to him and I couldn’t make it better.’ He blew his nose again. ‘My family is with Mrs Richards now. But I want to say goodbye properly, so I’ll just follow on at the back. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Please just go in and forget about me.’

  I hesitated.

  ‘Please go in, it’s the way I want it to be.’

  ‘Oh, Davy bach how I wish our mother hadn’t died. It would have all been so different then.’

  ‘I know,’ he said, putting his arm around my shoulder, ‘and I also know how hard you had it with our relations when we were little. You had it harder than me. I remember, Kate.’ He smiled and kissed me on the cheek. ‘I remember what went on and I’m so sorry.’

  I squeezed his hand and a look of love passed between us that had been lost somewhere along the line. I’ll treasure that look.

  ‘I’m sorry too, Davy, you know that.’ I hesitated, unsure if this was the right time to tell him.

  ‘What? What is it?’

  I smiled. ‘You always knew when I needed to say something . . . well, I’m not sure this is the best time to say this, but sometimes good news goes with the bad.’

  I hesitated again and his eyes were very soft as he looked into mine.

  ‘Well, I’m expecting,’ I blurted out.

  His face lit up with a huge smile. ‘That’s marvellous, yes, marvellous news. I’m so happy for you and Tom. Dad would have been proud. Yes, so proud of a grandchild. I’m glad you told me, Kate. It makes a difference to my feelings about today. His grandchild will follow his hearse. If he’s looking down on us now, I’m sure he’s smiling.’ He kissed me again on the cheek and we hugged and clung to each other like we did when we were little.