A Million Tears (7 page)

‘I won’t,’ I said solemnly. What he had said gave me food for thought though I was convinced more than ever that if there was a God then he did not give twopence what happened to us, or what we did.

During the next week I was allowed to sit longer in the chair though not to walk around or do anything else. My aunts and Mam had stopped their vigil by the side of my bed and Sion was back sleeping in the bedroom. He now used Sian’s bed, instead of sharing with me.

A regular visitor was Uncle James Price. Perhaps it was my imagination but he looked as though he had aged since Sian’s death. I was aware that they had quickly become close to each other but had not realised how close. Sian had obviously meant a lot to him.

‘How come you’re always looking in that there atlas?’ he asked me once.

‘I like to imagine what it would be like to leave this place and travel – not around the world, but to go where there’s something other than rows of houses and mines

– a place where there’s open land and fields, I suppose. One day,’ I began to get excited, ‘I’ll go to these places. Here we are in Europe and I can’t even get to Cardiff, never mind such places as Paris or Rome say.’

‘Where’s that Dai? Those places I mean.’

‘Paris is the capital of France,’ I began importantly.

‘Oh, them,’ he interrupted contemptuously. ‘Why, God Bless him, the Duke of Wellington defeated them at Waterloo. Sent them no good Frenchies running he did. What do you want to go there for?’

I shrugged. ‘I dunno, just to see it I suppose. Anyway, Waterloo was eighty years ago.’

‘It doesn’t matter see. We beat them then and we’d beat them again. Why, we freed all of Europe from Napoleon . . . was that his name?’

‘Aye, Uncle James it was. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t go and see what it’s like today, does it? I mean, it must have changed an awful lot like. Like we’ve changed here in Britain and especially here in Wales.’

‘I guess,’ he said, looking unsure.

Mam came in with cups of tea. ‘Here you are Dai, and one for you too, Mr Price.’

‘Thank you, Meg. We’re just talking about Dai’s ideas to travel. I reckon he’s been bitten by some bug that gives him the urge to move. What do you think?’

‘I think you’re right. He’s been on about nothing else since I can remember. Or at least since I showed him that atlas and taught him what it means. Mind you, he’s not the only one in this family. Oh well,’ she turned to the door, ‘I suppose we’ll see what we shall see.’

I wondered what she meant, but I put it down to her usual brush off whenever I mentioned leaving Wales.

Though I felt weak, I was allowed downstairs and to walk around a little. The doctor explained I was not to overdo it because pneumonia leaves the heart and lungs weak and I had to take care. If I did, then I would eventually get back to normal. It had been three weeks since I fell ill; since Sian’s death. The village was still in mourning, though the people, used to tragedy, were beginning to put it behind them. I heard the vicar was preaching the goodness of God, quoting often, ‘Suffer the little children to come unto me’. Perhaps for many it offered consolation but for me, and I suspected for Da as well, it offered nothing. There were eight days to go to the wedding anniversary when Grandmother Osborne called in.

‘But Megan,’ she said plaintively, ‘you can’t have a party. Not so soon after the little one’s burial. It’s not nice.’ Grandmother thought of everything in terms of whether it was nice or not. She was dressed in her habitual black dress, as shapeless as she was. ‘What will the village think and say? Thank you,’ she added taking another biscuit and promptly dunking it in her tea.

‘Never mind what the village thinks or says,’ Mam emphasised the word says. ‘Evan and I have decided that that’s what we want. Mourning for our little girl doesn’t help anyone, least of all us.’

Grandmother Osborne looked put out for the moment. ‘Well, I don’t think it’s right. Her only just in her grave and all.’

‘Listen Mam,’ she replied, ‘it’s a quiet get together of the family. It’ll do us all good. We need to talk about the accident if it helps clear people’s feelings. We can’t ignore it and pretend it didn’t happen, worried we’ll say the wrong thing and upset the others. It’ll be good for Huw and Mair as well, if we can persuade them to come. They said they’d think about it. Perhaps the sight of all the other children will be too much now they’ve lost Johnny. It might be. I know how I’ll be feeling about Sian and I know how Evan will feel and Dai and Sion. But we must still . . .’ she faltered a moment, ‘still make the effort and get back to normal as quickly as we can. Life goes on, Mam, and we have to go on with it.’ There was a sort of defiance as she poured more tea for the three of us. Sion was out playing or else round visiting Uncle James and Da was at work. The school was still closed and looked as though it would not be opened for some time, if ever. There was talk of using the chapel vestry for classes for some of the older children but so far nothing had come of it. There was also talk of getting the mine owners to build a new school away from the danger areas of the slagheaps. Somebody was supposed to investigate what had happened but what good would come of that we all knew only too well – nothing.

The Union was making its usual noises but its only definite offer of help was to contribute towards the memorial for the children. The mine owners had also offered a contribution but I had not heard whether it was accepted or not. The owners were insisting what had happened was nothing to do with them, but had been an Act of God. Bitterness against the owners was rising. There was a threat of serious trouble in the offing.

I cannot say I liked my Grandmother very much. She was too fussy, always telling me what I should or should not do. Like ‘don’t play in the river, Dai,’ ‘don’t climb trees, Dai,’ ‘don’t go over to the quarry with the other children, Dai,’ ‘you’ll get into trouble, Dai’ . . . and so on all the time. She had never believed Da was good enough for Mam but I had heard uncle Albert tell Da that was usual – no man was ever good enough for any woman’s daughter.

With an air of finality Grandmother replaced her cup and stood up. ‘I must be going.’ Both Mam and I remained silent. ‘All I can say, Megan, is I hope you know what you’re doing, that’s all. That’s my last words on the subject, see, but mark my words, people won’t like it. They’ll think it not nice. Fetch my coat, Dai,’ she ordered.

‘Yes, Grandmother,’ please, I said, under my breath. ‘What did you say?’ she asked sharply.

‘Nothing Grandmother,’ I rushed to get her coat. I’d heard Da say that she could hear an asthmatic flea cough at fifty paces.

As I helped her on with her coat she went on: ‘Now you mark my words Megan Griffiths . . .’ I switched off, knowing we would not hear the end of it before, during or for a long time after the event. From Mam’s sigh I guessed she realised it as well.

After Grandmother left, Mam made me get out my schoolbooks and we went through some arithmetic. I still tired quickly so after an hour I went to bed. I slept until late the next morning.

Through the curtains, partly drawn, I watched the clouds scudding past and amused myself seeing them as animals and funny faces. My Grandmother Osborne’s voice – she had come back – brought me back to earth and I tried to listen. After a few minutes I realised she was still on about the party and tried to ignore her. She saying, ‘I told you on that day you were marrying below your station’, brought me back to listening to her.

‘Now this trouble. I’ve never heard of anything like it. The men holding meetings, talking about striking and for what? Tell me that. For what? Compensation for the children? That won’t bring them back, will it? Nor will it put clothes on your backs or food on your table. I expect your Evan is mixed up in this as usual?’ Her voice had a hint of bitterness as she said Da’s name.

‘Yes, he is,’ Mam retorted, ‘but not in the way you think.’ Before she could go on Grandmother interrupted.

‘I thought so. I knew it,’ she said with a good deal of satisfaction. It was then that I realised how much she disliked Da. I had never liked her very much but knowing how she felt about Da I liked her a lot less. I poked my tongue out at her, safe in the knowledge that a door and ceiling separated us.

‘You mark my words. There’s going to be trouble unless someone persuades the men not to be so stupid.’

‘Evan is trying to,’ Mam said loudly, immediately bringing her voice back to normal. ‘Sorry, Mam but I couldn’t get a word in edgeways. If you’d listened you’d have heard me try to say that Evan is against it. He agrees with you about the food and clothes, or whatever you said. He doesn’t think any good will come of it but the men, and the women too come to that, are so angry they won’t listen to reason. It’s not as though they’re asking for much . . .’

Again Grandmother interrupted. ‘What are they asking for then? Do they even know? Or is it the usual sheep-like instinct of the herd? All following without knowing why or where they’re going?’

‘No, Mam,’ I could almost hear Mam sigh. By now, intrigued, I climbed out of bed and sat at the top of the stairs. This was all new to me and I wanted to know what was going on. ‘All they want is a new school built over this side of the river and up behind the Powis place,’ I knew where she meant. It was a stretch of waste ground near the chapel and a bit further along. ‘They also want the mine owners to admit it was their fault. I don’t know much more than you so why ask me? We won’t know any more until tomorrow’s meeting. You’ll know then, Mam.’

‘Yes, well I just thought you could enlighten me some more, seeing how Evan always knows what’s going on.’ I heard the rattle of cups. ‘Thank you.’

‘Hullo, Meg, and where’s my boy then? Oh, hullo, Mrs Osborne,’ Grandad said in a stentorian voice, breezing through the front door, as usual.

‘Upstairs, Dad,’ Mam replied.

‘I must be off, now you’ve got,’ Grandmother paused, ‘other company.’ I could imagine the loud sniff she affected when she was annoyed, and Grandad turning up would certainly annoy her.

‘Huh,’ he snorted, ‘most of her troubles I reckon she’s brought on herself or else imagined them. Never mind her now, how’s the boy?’

‘Not too bad. The doctor says if he rests and we keep him in most of the time he’ll be all right in a month or two. He said we were lucky it was such a mild dose. Go on up and see him. He may be awake by now.’

I scrambled for my bed as Grandad parted the curtain at the foot of the stairs. When he came in he was grinning.

‘Now, Dai, you shouldn’t be listening at keyholes. You might hear something bad about yourself, see, and you won’t like that will you?’

‘No, Grandad,’ I grinned back. ‘Only I wasn’t listening at a keyhole but at the top of the stairs.’

‘Cheeky monkey,’ he ruffled my hair like Da did. ‘You’re lucky you’re ill, that’s all I can tell you. But don’t go taking advantage of the fact or else I might forget and put you over my knee, by mistake like.’

‘No reason. I’m just interested that’s all. I heard Mam and Grandmother talking about it earlier. And if anybody knows it’s you, after all.’

Grandad was one of the most important men in the community. He was one of the mine leaders and sat on the committee that dealt with the owners; and he was a member of the union. He was a big man with a shock of white hair and a seamed face. His nose was hooked where it had been broken in a fight years before, and his eyes were piercing like Da’s. He was heavily built though not fat.

‘Aye lad I guess I can tell you, though it’s not much. We’ll know more after the meeting tomorrow. What it comes down to is the people of the three villages want the owners to admit responsibility for what happened. Then they want compensation and a memorial for the . . . the kids,’ he paused.

‘That’s reasonable, after all it was their fault. We didn’t ask them to put their rotten slag there, did we?’

‘No, Dai, we didn’t. But I remember when the school was built. We picked the site and there was already a slagheap then. Not so high, maybe, but it was there. And again there’s the rain, which was hardly the owners’ fault, was it?’

‘I suppose not,’ I said quietly, wishing I could kill the owners like Sian had been killed.

‘But that isn’t all the problem. The owners are worried that if they admit it was their fault we could take them to court. And then we could get a lot more than we’re asking for right now. Do you see, Dai?’

‘Aye, Grandad, I see. But,’ I went on bitterly, ‘the courts will side with the owners, they always do.’

‘Give me one example of a court case the owners have won against us then, clever clogs,’ Grandad smiled wanly.

I pulled a face as I thought. ‘I don’t really know one,’ I began slowly, ‘but everybody knows the courts are always on the side of the owners.’

‘The reason you can’t think of one is because in my living memory I’ve never known it to happen. That doesn’t mean if we did go to court we’d automatically lose. We’d definitely win but only if they admitted it was their fault and agreed to what we’re asking for. I think with the way things are in this country now, if we’ve got a just grievance the courts will decide fairly.’

‘What’s the meeting for, then?’

‘Me and the others are going to try and persuade the owners that if they agree to our demands – that’s the wrong word – I should say requests, then I’ll assure them and so will the rest of the committee that there’ll be no action in court. After all Dai, what do we know about court cases and such like, eh boy?’ He coughed into a big handkerchief. ‘Mustn’t give you my germs, must I?’ He smiled, kidding us both he had a simple cough and not miners “dust”.