She drew breath sharply and bent almost double, hugging herself as if she’d been disembowelled.
‘Did you sell yourself to other men, to make money for him? Did you?’ he insisted.
‘No, I didn’t. No, no, no, no, no,’ she cried, sinking on to a chair.
‘Did you have any bairns?’
‘She died,’ she gasped, and began to weep.
Martin was quiet for a while, then he said, roughly, ‘Aye, bad enough you did that with anybody that didn’t care enough about you to put a ring on your finger, Ginny, but with him – I could be sick at the thought. You might go back to him yet, though. You might think it’s your best option when some of the cats in Annsdale start digging their claws into you.’
‘No, I won’t,’ she wept, ‘never. I haven’t been with him for over a year. I’ve got my own house and I’m never going back to him, whatever else I do or don’t do.’
She cried on and on, without a word of comfort from him. Eventually he said softly, ‘Are you sure you’ve told me everything, Ginny? Only I don’t want anybody else telling me anything I don’t already know.’
‘Yes. I’ve told you everything. There were never any other men, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Aye, I suppose that’s what I mean.’
There was a long silence. He reached out a hand as if to brush her tears away, but withdrew it.
‘It’s as if I’ve been dead along with Maria for the past three and a half years, but now I’m faced with it, I want to live. This disaster’s made me realize how sweet life is. I want to see my bairn grow up. I want to do a lot o’ things. Will you do something for me?’
She dabbed her eyes and whispered, ‘Yes, anything.’
‘If anything happens to me, be a friend to Philip and Mam Smith.’
‘I will. I’ll do anything you want, Martin, only be fair to me. It wasn’t all my fault. It wasn’t. I left him as soon as I had somewhere else to go.’
He made no answer, and when she looked up he was gone. She was left with her own thoughts, staring down at Maria’s shoes, contrasting herself with their first owner. She hugged herself with distress at Martin’s low opinion of her and at the pain and anger on his face when he thought of her with Charlie. But he couldn’t have felt such pain if he hadn’t cared for her at all. And if he’d had such a low opinion of her, he wouldn’t have trusted her with Philip. Whatever the truth was, she knew now that she didn’t merely love Martin. She worshipped him. And, in spite of everything, she sensed something in him that gave her hope.
Chapter 21
Jimmy Hood, her father, and all the other trapped men and boys drifted in and out of her mind, but only Martin was immovably fixed in it. He had to survive the rescue. He must. She thought of him constantly and was thinking of him when she opened the front door the following morning to Charlie, dressed immaculately in a dark suit, cravat, and bowler.
‘I’m going out,’ she told him, with a defiant stare.
‘Very well.’ He gave her an easy smile, showing his even white teeth. ‘Perhaps it’s as well. This is a formal call. I want a private word with your mother. I’ve come to atone for our past misdemeanours by making an honest woman of you. Be so good as to inform her that I’m here.’
She shut the door in his face, and went into the kitchen, followed by a prolonged and insistent knocking on the door.
‘For pity’s sake, Ginny, answer it,’ her mother said.
‘No, and don’t you answer it either.’
Her mother looked nonplussed, then got up and opened the door herself. When Ginny saw Charlie enter the front room still smiling his pleasant and implacable smile she cried, ‘Oh, I asked you not to,’ and in a second had snatched her coat from the peg and escaped through the back door. She fled in the direction of the pit, her mind in turmoil, knowing what sort of a yarn Charlie would be spinning her mother, and thinking that the only promises he ever kept to her were the ones that resulted in her degradation. She dreaded Martin finding out about his visit and condemning her for a liar as well as a whore, then dreaded even more that he might fall a victim to the pit and never know anything more.
She stood on the bank alongside groups of others, alone in the crowd, scanning every direction, looking for him. At last he arrived with a group of other rescuers, Tom Hood among them. A father come to seek his sons; her heart went out to him. She raised an arm to wave to Martin, felt another arm encircle her waist, and turned her face into Charlie’s.
‘I thought I’d find you here. I’m happy to say that we have your mother’s blessing.’
She broke from him and walked away, turning only to say, ‘I’ll never marry you, Charlie. I don’t care whose blessing we’ve got.’
He followed her, then to her horror she saw that Martin was walking towards her, a caged canary in one hand, and his lamp in the other. She was in a fever of anxiety as Charlie drew level with them.
‘You’re one of the exploring party, I take it,’ he said, in a superior tone. ‘It’s time there was an end to this folly, putting men’s lives at risk for no good reason. There’s nobody alive down there – anyone who knows anything about mines knows that.’
‘And you’re an expert on mines, I suppose?’ Martin sneered.
Charlie gave him a long and disparaging look, evidently resenting a challenge from one so obviously his social inferior. ‘I’m closely related to one, if a certificated manager of mines qualifies as an expert. The opinion of the manager of this mine is that rescuers are putting their lives at hazard of afterdamp, roof falls and further explosions in an attempt to find survivors that will prove utterly futile. Simply put, you risk being suffocated, crushed, burned or buried alive for nothing. Such survivors as there are have saved themselves by their own exertions. The mine should be sealed until the fires are out. By that means, the people of the village will have some employment to return to. You may not be aware that I am one of the owners.’
Such anger as she had never thought him capable of was displayed in Martin’s face, and she shrank from it. He was deathly pale, his powerful shoulders hunched, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white. His eyes glittered with hatred.
‘I’m well aware o’ that, and I’m aware of everything else that yer are an’all. The only thing that concerns you is saving your investment, nothing else. And if the certificated manager of this mine had listened to some of us the hundred times we tried to tell him the pit was gassy and no shots should be fired, there would never have been an explosion, scores of men and boys would still be alive, and there’d be no need for anybody to risk anything. But lucky for anybody that is trapped, it’s neither you nor your sister that decides when the pit gets blocked.’ Martin pointed to the group of volunteers, ready for the descent. ‘See them? They’re men, and sons of men – people you’ll never understand. They’ll make their own minds up whether they want to risk their lives or not, not you, and they know the risks better than you ever could.’
Charlie flushed with anger and opened his mouth, but seeing the murderous expression in Martin’s eyes he closed it again. He turned to Ginny. ‘We’ll discuss matters later, Ginny. I’ll call and see you at home this evening,’ then with a curt and uncomfortable nod in Martin’s direction, he left them.
‘Feather-bedded and spoon-fed all his life. It’ll not matter what happens to anybody as far as that one’s concerned, as long as he’s all right. He’d sell his own mother for a farthing,’ spat Martin, glaring contemptuously after him. ‘Anyway, what matters has he got to discuss with you, if you’ve finished with him?’
Before she had time to say anything he turned his back on her to answer a call from the other volunteers. She watched him go down and was too upset to wait there any longer. Wringing her hands and sighing, she returned home, heartsick at his having seen her with Charlie, going over it all in her mind, wondering how she could have avoided it, what she could have done differently. She saw young Arthur and acknowledged him, but he passed her as if she were invisible; her ow
n brother.
She wouldn’t live here as a pariah. She was sick of feeling like dirt and being treated like dirt, sick of Charlie hounding her, sick of eating humble pie because of him. If she had to swallow another mouthful she would choke on it. ‘If I can never live Charlie down, I may as well go back to London,’ she whispered to herself, but even as she said it she knew she could never tear herself away while there was the faintest chance of winning Martin. She was fast tethered to the village by her obsession with him. To make her leave, he would have to destroy every hope, to tell her openly, brutally, that he did not want her and never would. By the time she got to the back door, her head was splitting. Lizzie and Sally had been sent out on Charlie’s arrival and were still not back. She found her mother and Emma alone.
‘He says he’s been asking to marry you ever since before that baby was born,’ her mother said, as soon as she stepped in the door.
‘He does seem to think a lot about you, Ginny,’ said Emma.
‘He always twists things,’ Ginny said. ‘He didn’t ask me to marry him until long after I’d left him, when I was doing all right on me own. It was me that was asking him before then. I bet he didn’t tell you the rest, either, and I can’t.’
She couldn’t have spoken to her mother of abortion and prostitution to save her life. To all her mother’s arguments, she simply kept insisting, ‘It’s finished between us. Finished. I would rather die than pass another five minutes with him. I’ve no more to say about it.’
Finally Emma said, ‘Leave her alone, Mam. We cannot make her have him if she doesn’t want.’
Her mother was not so easily deflected. ‘He’s the best chance you’ll ever have. No decent man will want you now. And he said he’d see we wanted for nothing, whatever happens at the pit.’
‘He always talks like that, but it never is like that. People always end up doing more for Charlie than he ever does for them. And I’ll see you want for nothing, never bother about that.’
‘You? How can you? You’re only a girl, and I’ve still got two children to bring up.’
Ginny looked into her mother’s gaunt face. ‘I know you have, but I’m a lot better off than you think I am. I can earn a lot of money on the stage. I’d have seen you wanted for nothing before today, if you’d let me.’
‘That was your father, and you know why.’
‘I do, but if you only want me to marry Charlie so you’ll want for nothing, you won’t want for anything anyway. And if you want me to marry him because you think nobody else will have me, I don’t care about that either. I’d rather never marry at all than marry Charlie.’
Her mother gave up the argument, put on her coat and left the house, saying that God willing their father would get out of the pit alive and he would see they wanted for nothing, as he always had. There would be no charity soup or parish boots for her children.
‘Don’t blame her. She’s out of her mind with worry,’ said Emma. ‘I’ll likely lose my job at the Cock before much longer, so she won’t even have my bit. I’ve been doing a bit of work behind the bar an’ all, whenever the landlady wants a night off. She knows she can trust me – I can pull a good pint and I always get the money right. The police turn a blind eye to me being a bit under age because there’s never any trouble at the Cock, and the landlord’s well in with the magistrates. But he was talking about selling up long before this lot happened. He’s getting the wind up now because if the pit closes, he’ll get nothing for the place.’
‘She needn’t worry. I can help you all, and a lot more than if I was married to Charlie, because the only person he wants to look after is himself, and maybe his sister.’
‘Why did you go chasing after him in the first place, Ginny?’
‘I didn’t,’ she said, and confided everything, including things she could never have told her mother.
‘Charlie wanted the sport and he could make me want it and all, as if nothing else mattered, but he didn’t want the babies it gets. Charlie liked to bed me, but he didn’t want to wed me until he lost his grip on the money I earn. Love’s got nothing to do with it. I know him inside out. I never really liked him at the start, but I hated him in the end, I used to think about murdering him. He nearly put me in the lunatic asylum. I’d like to forget I ever knew him, but I don’t suppose I’ll ever be able to do that.’
‘Not with people like they are round here.’
‘I know. Their eyes and ears are everywhere. I’d forgotten how much. That’s one thing I do miss about London, you don’t have everybody minding your business for you, pointing their fingers at you. I can’t see how you and Jimmy ever got together on your own. His house is always full, and me mam’s nearly always in, and anyway you say he wasn’t welcome here because of helping our John and being a Catholic, and you can go nowhere else out of the way of them all.’
Emma was silent for a while, then said, ‘Well, there’s one place that nobody goes much when it’s getting dark, and if I tell you I’ve probably still got “In Loving Memory” printed on me arse, you’ll know where I mean.’
A burst of laughter from Ginny was answered by an uncertain little smile from Emma, but after a second or two, when she realized the import of her words, her face crumpled. Ginny held and soothed her.
‘He’ll get out. We’ve got to hope he’ll get out. But no matter what happens, you’ll never want for anything as long as I’m alive, never fear.’ When Emma stopped crying, Ginny joked, ‘By Em, it must have been a bit cold, though, this time of year.’
Emma stood up and began to wash the pots, signalling an end to that line of conversation. Ginny took the hint, and changed the subject.
‘I’ll do that, Em, if you’ll go to the Co-op and get something to eat. I’m tired of people looking through me and whispering behind my back. I can’t face them again today. Will you go?’
Emma brought the Chronicle back with her. She put the groceries down and sat wearily at the kitchen table, dark circles evident under her eyes. She looked exhausted but was not too tired to devour the paper whilst Ginny made a meal.
‘Listen to this.’ She read: ‘ “There were at least forty members of the press at Annsdale Colliery yesterday, and not a single daily paper of any note in the Kingdom was unrepresented.” I believe it and all. They’re like wasps round a bloody jam pot. They get to know more about what’s going on than we do, and we live here. And all these people who just come out of curiosity, to see a bit of drama, make me bilious.’
‘What do they say about the rescue attempt, Em? Do they say it’s hopeless?’
‘It’s not hopeless, no matter what they say,’ said Emma, her lip trembling despite her stout denial. ‘And if it was Jimmy, he’d try for any of his marrers, I know he would. So would me dad.’
Ginny returned to the task of chopping vegetables, but although she said no more she thought constantly of those dangers stressed so forcefully by Charlie, dangers Martin and the other rescuers faced that very minute and for hours to come.
‘Just listen to this,’ said Emma. ‘ “Disaster Fund. It was said sixteen years ago, at the time of the Elms disaster, that the public would never be as generous again as they were on that occasion and that a permanent disaster fund should be set up. Nothing has been done in the interval, but there is enough and to spare for the present emergency without asking the public for a penny. The coal owners have made colossal fortunes drawn from the labours of the miners and the purses of consumers during the past few years, and none have been enriched more than the owners of Annsdale Colliery. They might undertake the support of all the sufferers and never feel the burden. The public sympathize deeply with the bereaved and are willing to assist them, but they are entitled to know where are the existing funds and what example is to be set by the coal owners.
“We demand to know where is the remainder of the fund set up sixteen years ago, and why no permanent fund was established. Single accidents are continually occurring and no appeal is made to the public on behalf of the suffer
ers of these, yet to each individual the calamity is as great as the present one. Hence the necessity for a permanent fund on which sufferers could have a claim. Why is no permanent fund in existence? We expect the Town Clerk, who is one of the trustees, to tell us who is and who is not responsible for this piece of gross mismanagement.” ’ Emma gave a little grunt of approval. ‘I would love to know that reporter.’
‘Well, who’s supposed to be looking after the money, like? Where is it?’ asked Ginny.
‘I don’t know. One of our noble lords or mine owners has it all tucked away in a bank somewhere, I suppose. That’s if they haven’t spent it,’ said Emma, then added, ‘That’s something you could do if you’ve as much money as you reckon you’ve got. You could start another Disaster Fund, a Permanent Fund like he says, but let the Union look after it this time. Tell Mr Parkinson you’ve no money left and you’re not going back to London to earn any more. If that’s all he wants you for, he’ll soon lose interest.’
‘I wonder if I could?’ mused Ginny. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start, or how to do it, but I suppose there’s people who could help me.’ She pondered for a while in silence, and two more ideas began to ferment in her mind, both breathtaking in their brilliance.
After scouring through the paper, Emma went to join her mother at the pit. Young Arthur arrived back in the middle of the afternoon, sent home by the men – filthy and so exhausted he could hardly stand. He condescended to speak to his eldest sister.
‘The fires are out, as far as anybody can tell, and the ventilation’s working. They’ve found three men alive, I don’t know who. Now they’ve started bringing bodies out. Get me a bath ready. I’m going to bed for a bit.’
She obeyed him as unquestioningly as she would have obeyed her father, and danced willing attendance on him as long as he needed her, then put on her coat and flew against the biting wind towards the pit, there to parade frantically up and down searching fruitlessly among a crowd which seemed to number thousands for her mother and Emma.
A Sovereign for a Song Page 21
