Eliza's Child (9 page)

Even so, lines were strung across the street from iron hooks in the walls of the cottages and washing hung on them under the watchful eyes of the women. Should a cart make its way along the women would rush out to rescue the clothes. Usually the cart drivers called out to let them know they were coming but Eliza knew some drivers did not.

As she drew near the house belonging to her mother in the long, straggly street she realised there was some kind of meeting going on. A group of men were sitting on their hunkers along the wall. This was the position most comfortable to men who spent their working lives in this position, wielding a pick and shovel in small seams of coal. A man was walking up and down in front of them as he talked and by his accent he was from further west in the county.

Eliza was alarmed. He looked like a union man and if he was they were in serious danger. And anyway, what were they doing having a meeting in broad daylight? As she approached her father got to his feet and looked at her.

‘Hadaway inside to your mother,' he ordered. ‘This has nowt to do with you, nowt at all.' The group of men were all staring at her as though they didn't know her and the man stood waiting for her to go.

‘Da, what are you doing?' she cried.

‘I telt you, get inside,' he ordered again. Eliza stood by the door to the cottage, trembling. The door opened and her mother's arm came out and grabbed her shoulder and pulled her inside. The door was closed behind her.

‘
WHAT ARE THEY
doing out there in the middle of the rows?' Eliza asked. ‘Are they just looking to be thrown into Durham gaol? For God's sake, Mam!' She was shocked and full of fear, not just for her father but also for them all.

‘They have to do something,' said Mary Anne. ‘They're laid off and have been for a fortnight. What are we supposed to live on, then?'

‘But the pit's working, I saw it,' said Eliza. She sank down on to the settee with trembling knees. The day had started out so fine and she had felt so happy walking over from Hazelrigg Farm. Now everything was changed, even the sun had gone behind a cloud. Danger was everywhere, or so she felt.

‘Aye, the pit's not idle but half the men are, your da and the lads among them. It's the fault of the bond,' Mary Anne sounded bitter. ‘The shop won't let us have any more on the slate and we don't even know if they can go back to work next week. It depends on orders for coal, that swine Moore says. If they hadn't signed a bond they'd be free to look for work elsewhere. There's that big pit at Murton. There's hundreds of pits in the county but the men can't go because they are bound to Blue House. Him out there reckons it's time the bond was abolished.'

‘But what if Mr Moore sees him here? They're not even behind the slag heap or in the clay pit, Mam!'

‘No, but why should they hide? Anyway, the lads are on the lookout at the top of the rows.'

‘I didn't see them,' Eliza said. ‘I hope they haven't wandered away.'

‘Nay, they wouldn't,' Mary Anne asserted, though she looked uncertain. ‘If they are I'll skelp their behinds, I will an' all.'

The two women were quiet for a while, then Eliza stood Thomas on the floor by the settee so he could hold himself up and went to the table where she had dumped her basket when she came in. ‘Put the kettle on, Mam, I've brought a paper of tea and a few bits,' she said. ‘We can have a cup of tea, any road.'

‘Nay, lass, you don't have to do that. We'll get through, we always do. Tommy caught a rabbit up at the bunny banks early on the morn. We'll have a stew later.'

‘An' we'll have some tea now,' said Eliza. ‘I'm ready for it.'

‘Does your man not mind you bringing us stuff?'

‘Even if he did I just have to say how you kept me and the bairn when he deserted us,' Eliza said in a hard tone. ‘He's doing fine at Benson's, any road.' She took half a pound of sugar and a pound of barley from her basket. She had been going to make barley water for Thomas but that wasn't important now.

‘If you're sure,' said Mary Anne. ‘I can make barley porridge for the lads, that will fill their bellies.' She looked brighter, less careworn as she filled the kettle from the bucket of water standing by the hearth and placed it on the fire. ‘I wasn't going to put the fire on when there was nowt to cook,' she said. ‘But the lads brought some coal in from where a wagon overturned on the black road.'

Outside, there was a rumble of men's angry voices. ‘One of the first things we will do is ask for a proper coal allowance,' the stranger was saying. ‘It's off the map that we should labour all day getting the coal and not have enough for our own fires.'

‘Just what we were thinking,' Mary Anne said to Eliza. ‘I tell you what, we do need a union and we won't get it without a fight. But it'll be a hacky mucky fight, I can tell you.'

Oh aye, it would, Eliza thought as she brought the last bag out of the basket. ‘Six eggs, two for me da,' she said.

‘He'll be glad o' them,' said Mary Anne quietly. ‘An' I'll do the bairns some eggy bread. It'll be a treat when they come in.'

She measured out a careful spoonful of tea and poured boiling water on it. They drank it without milk but as a treat they sweetened it with a little of the precious sugar. A few minutes later the door opened and Tommy came in and with him, the stranger. They were quickly followed by the three boys, all panting from the run up the row.

‘Up the ladder, now,' said Mary Anne, shepherding them to the corner where the ladder led up to their bedroom. ‘Keep quiet an' all.' They nodded and fled upstairs as a peremptory knock on the door made everyone jump. The sneck was lifted and in walked Jonathan Moore.

‘I didn't say come in,' Tommy muttered and Jonathan smiled.

‘No? Aye well, it's a pit house, isn't it?' He looked at Eliza, who had risen to her feet and taken hold of Thomas. The baby gazed at the interloper and put his thumb in his mouth. Jonathan smiled at the baby for all the world as though he was a welcome visitor.

‘He's growing,' he said to Eliza.

‘What do you want, gaffer?' Tommy asked. ‘Are we back to work the morn?' Jonathan shook his head. His smile had vanished and he stared at the stranger.

‘Who's this?' he asked.

‘He's my cousin from yon side of Durham,' Tommy replied.

‘He doesn't look like you,' said Jonathan Moore.

‘Does he have to?'

‘There are agitators in the area. I had a message from the Owners' Association.'

‘Are there now?'

‘If anyone is caught inciting to riot he'll be for a spell in Durham gaol.'

‘Are you speaking for your da or are you just a lackey of the Owners' Association, then?' This time it was the stranger who spoke and Jonathan reddened with anger. The stranger turned to Tommy. ‘I can speak for meself, don't fash yourself,' he said and turned back to Jonathan. ‘I'm Peter Collier,' he said. ‘Here to tell my cousin that our granda is dead.'

Eliza looked up in surprise. Her great-grandfather was indeed dead and had been since before she was born. Peter Collier was looking at Jonathan Moore, one eyebrow raised quizzically. Mary Anne licked her lips nervously but Tommy lifted his chin.

‘I'm sorry to hear that,' he said. ‘A grand old man an' all. When is the funeral?'

‘Saturday, four o'clock,' Peter Collier answered before turning back to Jonathan.

‘Well, Mr Moore?'

‘Get off our property before you are thrown off,' said Jonathan. ‘If I find out you are in any way connected to the rabble-rousers I'll see every last one of you hounded out of the place.'

‘Your da made his mark on the bond as well as me,' said Tommy. ‘It has three months to run an' all.'

‘Father
signed
the bond,' snapped Jonathan. ‘He is not an ignorant pitman. But don't think we cannot throw you out, we can and we will. Good day to you, Eliza Mitchell-Howe.' He turned and stalked out. Tommy went to the tiny window and saw him walk up the row.

‘He's gone,' he said to the man who called himself Peter Collier, and they all smiled. This time they had bested the owner's son but Eliza doubted he would leave it at that. But she was taken aback when her father turned to her.

‘Why does he speak to you like that? Have you been with him? I'll bray the hide off you if you have!'

‘No, Da, no, I haven't, he was just trying to make trouble,' said Eliza. ‘I'm a married woman, Da, I wouldn't.' Eliza trembled with the need to assure him she hadn't done anything.

‘Aye well,' said Tommy grudgingly. ‘I expect you haven't.'

‘I'll be away then,' said the stranger. ‘I have a bit more visiting to do.'

‘Won't you have a bite first?' asked Tommy and glanced at his wife who looked alarmed.

‘Well, there's some eggs,' she began.

‘Nay, lass, thanks for the offer,' Peter Collier said swiftly. ‘I have bread and a nice bit of Cotherstone cheese, I can eat as I go along.'

He made his goodbyes and chucked little Thomas under the chin before going to the door. ‘Remember, Saturday, four o'clock,' he said to Tommy. ‘The old quarry, you know where.'

It had been an interesting day, all right, Eliza thought to herself while she was walking back to Hazelrigg Farm cottage by the path across the fields. The weather had changed and rain threatened while a cold wind blew from the north-east. She carried Thomas on her hip inside her shawl and he leaned against her, his eyelids drooping. She bent her head and kissed him on his hair, now turning as dark as her own.

‘Mind, you are a bonny lad,' she sang softly to him and his eyes closed properly. A few drops of rain began to fall and she put her head down and hurried into Haswell. She would shelter in Benson's doorway until it passed. It was probably only a shower.

‘Come inside, lass.' Mr Benson opened the door behind her and motioned her in. ‘The rain won't last long, then you can be in your way.' He was a pleasant enough chap, thought Eliza as she followed him into the warm interior of the shop-cum-workroom. A middle-aged man with grizzled grey hair going thin on top and a kindly smile, he chatted to her as he took up his plane to continue smoothing the piece he was working on.

‘Your man's away delivering the day,' he said between strokes. ‘I bless the day I set him on, I do that. A good workman is Jack, you should be proud of him.'

‘Well, I am,' said Eliza, but in her own mind she thought, with a few reservations.

‘Used to work on the Duke of Northumberland's estate, so I understand.' He looked up from his work and stayed his hands for a moment. His eyes were bright and enquiring, as though he wasn't quite believing of that.

‘Aye, he did,' said Eliza. ‘Him and his da.'

‘A good position that. I wonder he would come south to work in a colliery village.'

Eliza didn't know what to say to that so she simply smiled and nodded.

‘I suppose you wanted to be near your family,' he went on. ‘Women are like that.' He shook his head in disapproval. ‘It's a pity, though. I'm glad to have him, you understand, but he was better off up in Alnwick, wasn't he?'

Eliza was angry. What had Jack been saying to him? That everything that had happened to them was her fault? She opened her mouth to tell him the truth but then closed it again. How could she say anything against Jack to his employer? Mr Benson was looking at her kindly. No doubt he thought he had given her a gentle reprimand and she should not have influenced her man. Mr Benson was a pillar of the chapel in Haswell and a lay preacher who sometimes came to Blue House to preach.

He returned to his rhythmic planing of the chest he was working on. Evidently he felt he had done his duty and made his point. She turned and gazed out of the window. The sky was clearing and the rain had stopped. She'd best go before she said something she would regret.

Negotiating the lane to the cottage was difficult. The rain had turned the dried mud into a quagmire and she slipped and slid her way along, clutching Thomas to her. He struggled and cried in protest and she was glad when she got to her front door without actually falling. Her boots and the hem of her dress were thick with mud and streaked with coal dust and she was thoroughly out of humour, in contrast with how she was in the bright beginnings of the day.

Later though, looking pensively out of the window, she noticed that the climbing rose she had planted under the window was starting to bud and she smiled to herself. No one, not even Jack, would think of looking underneath the rose to where she had hidden the necklace wrapped in oiled canvas among its roots. Next time, and she was sure there would be a next time, she would not be left destitute when Jack got the gambling fever.

Jack came in very late in the evening after his trip around the countryside. Eliza had not bothered with a candle, for not only did the fire show a good light but moonlight was streaming through the window to where she sat in the rocking chair he had made for her. Thomas had been in bed and asleep long since and there was an appetising smell from the pot of stew simmering on the bar of the fire.

‘By, it's good to be home,' Jack said as he came in. ‘Don't get up, hinny, you look a picture sitting there in the moonlight.'

Eliza laughed and stood up anyway. ‘Who's to give you your supper if I don't get up?' she asked. ‘You're fond as a gate.' But she was pleased all the same. For by, he was a grand lad. If only he didn't gamble, she couldn't help thinking. There was always a part of her now that stood aside coldly and watched even in their most intimate moments.

Over supper she told him about Peter Collier and the meeting the men had had in broad daylight outside her parents' house. ‘It frightens me, Jack,' she said. ‘I don't know what they would do if they were thrown out of the house.'

‘Hovel, more like,' said Jack, spooning meat into his mouth before mopping the gravy with a heel of bread. ‘Some of the pit houses have ash closets nowadays instead of a stinking midden at the end of the row. Mebbe your da would be better off finding himself a more modern pit. Mind, I don't hold with agitation. The men and the gaffers should be able to come to an agreement about their differences, settle them, like.'

‘Sometimes the men have to band together to get their just rights,' Eliza declared, which was a bit strange for she had been against just that earlier in the day.

‘Rights? They don't have any rights,' said Jack. He sat back in his chair and took the clay pipe he had taken to smoking lately out of his pocket. ‘Any road, get us a light, pet.'

Jack didn't really understand, she thought. But then Jack was not a miner.