by Rosie Harris
‘Right. Move it into position. See that the men stand well clear of it, we don’t want to have to push our way through a mob,’ Pennington snapped.
David followed the other owners as they clambered up a step-ladder on to the makeshift podium. As Llewellyn joined them, the murmurings from the crowd grew louder.
To David’s ears it sounded ominous. He looked at Pennington and marvelled at the man’s calm as he stood there, a disdainful look on his face, staring down at the crowd as if he were looking at cattle in an auctioneer’s pen. He didn’t seem to notice that they’d advanced nearer and nearer to the cart until they were almost touching it, or the angry, surly look on their faces.
‘Men!’ he held up a hand for silence. ‘We are grieved by the tragedy here at Fforbrecon since it affects us all. We shall do what we can to relieve the distress of the bereaved but, in the interests of the living, we have taken the decision to seal off the gallery where the accident occurred.’
He waited as an angry murmur swept through the crowd.
‘I am sure you all realize that it would take you two weeks or more to clear the collapsed gallery.’ He paused dramatically. ‘Two weeks of unpaid hard work, since your earnings are based on the number of trucks of coal at the pithead weighbridge. If we allowed you to clear the gallery there would be no coal coming to the surface,’ he paused again, ‘and no money for any of you!
‘So, in your interests,’ he went on, stressing each syllable, ‘we have decided to leave the bodies where they are and to seal off the section in order that the rest of you may continue to earn your livelihood…’
Pennington got no further. The crowd seethed. Angry shouts filled the air. Threatening fists were raised. A large piece of coal came hurtling towards the cart, followed by a barrage of shale and stones.
The affray was violent. A lump of coal struck David on the side of the head at the same moment as the cart was overturned. For a moment he lay on the ground dazed. As he struggled to his feet a hand grabbed his arm, trying to pull him down. In self-defence he fought back. Blood oozed from his forehead, running down his face, obscuring his vision.
Summoning all his strength, David lashed out. Bodies locked; he and his assailant crashed to the ground, the other man’s head taking the full force as it crunched against a boulder. They both lay there unconscious, trampled on by the scuffling crowd.
‘Christ!’ Llewellyn stared in disbelief as he separated David from the mangled body entwined beneath him. ‘The buggers have killed each other… and this one’s the owner’s son!’
Chapter 20
Kate felt bewildered as she packed her possessions into the same sturdy canvas bag and tin trunk she had brought with her from Bramwood Hall. Helen’s letter had not only changed the pattern of her life but renewed her hope of finding David.
She counted her money carefully. Four gold sovereigns and three shillings in silver was all that remained of the money Sir George Sherwood had given her. She had received no wages while at Machen Mawr and it was impossible now to ask Morgan Edwards for any money.
She wrapped each of the gold coins in separate handkerchiefs so that they wouldn’t jingle against one another and then secreted them in a linen pocket which she tied around her waist next to her skin. Two of the shillings she wrapped together and put in her skirt pocket. The remaining shilling, to buy food and a bed for the night, she dropped into her reticule.
As she pulled her cape around her shoulders ready to leave there was a tap on the bedroom door. She held her breath, afraid it might be Morgan Edwards.
‘Kate! Are you in there? Open the door, it’s me… Olwen.’
The voice was breathless, as if Olwen Price had run all the way up from the kitchen. When Kate opened the door, she rushed inside, puffing noisily, her apple cheeks brilliant from her exertion.
‘Oh, there’s glad I am that I managed to catch you,’ she gasped as she collapsed on to the side of the bed, fanning herself with her apron. ‘Master’s just told me he’s turned you out! Are you leaving right away… on a night like this?’
‘Raining, is it?’
‘Cats and dogs! Never heard the like in my life!’
‘I must leave.’
‘Why? What brought this on? Was it to do with that letter I brought in?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, dear! I should have waited until you’d finished dinner, then he need never have known anything about it.’
‘No good thinking of that now, Olwen.’
‘Eager I was to get it to you. Thought I was doing you a good turn, see. There’s foolish I was. I’ll never forgive myself. If I’d left it until later then…’
‘Stop getting yourself into a state,’ sighed Kate. ‘You weren’t to know he’d take it from you, or the way he’d react when he read it.’
‘What was in it then?’ Olwen Price’s eyes were dark with curiosity. ‘Looked like a woman’s handwriting to me, so what did he get so worked up about?’
‘It was from Lady Helen Sherwood.’
‘From Miss Helen! Well, there’s nice now!’ She frowned. ‘So why was master put out over that?’
‘She mentioned David in the letter, and…’
Kate’s voice broke. The tears she had been holding back ever since the scene in the dining room gushed down her cheeks.
‘There, there, my lovely, don’t take on so,’ Olwen Price comforted, reaching out and taking Kate’s hand.
‘Oh, Olwen, just everything seems to go wrong for me,’ Kate sobbed, sinking down on to the edge of the bed.
‘Has David Owen got something to do with this baby you’re expecting?’ asked Olwen Price bluntly.
Kate looked at her startled.
‘Well, I’m not blind,’ the older woman told her, patting her hand understandingly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘The moment I heard master was going to marry you I thought, that’s a funny kettle of fish. I knew it couldn’t be his, he’s not the kind of man to go lifting the skirts of someone he employs.’
‘Really, Olwen…’
‘After what you’d told me about young Brynmor’s carryings-on then naturally I thought it must be his and that master was marrying you in order to give the child a name, Brynmor not being man enough yet to take on a wife and family.’
‘You seem to have worked everything out,’ Kate said drily.
‘Not quite!’ She shook her grey head. ‘That’s what we were all supposed to think, but you haven’t been here long enough! When that letter arrived master must have realized that for himself.’
Kate made no answer.
‘Is that why he’s sending you packing?’
Drying her eyes and squaring her shoulders, Kate stood up, straightening her crumpled dress.
‘I’d better be on my way,’ she said stiffly. ‘If Morgan Edwards found me still here it might mean trouble for you, Olwen.’
‘Where will you go?’
‘To David’s home at Llwynowen… or to Fforbrecon colliery.’
‘Talk sense, girl! They’re both on the other side of the Blorenge mountain. You can’t walk that far tonight.’
‘Once I get as far as Blaina I might get a lift.’
‘At night!’
‘If I don’t, then I’ll have to walk,’ Kate said, her mouth set in a grim, determined line.
‘Think of the risk, cariad. Wait until first light and then set out.’
‘Morgan Edwards might check to see if I’m still here.’
‘You can sleep in Glynis’ bed and she can share with me just for the one night. No one can find you there since they’d have to walk through my bedroom, and that’s more than either master or Brynmor would dare do, I can tell you.’
‘It’s kind of you, Olwen, but it’s too much of a risk.’
‘Well, if you’re determined to go I’ll give you the name of someone in Nantyglo who will help you.’
‘Give me a bed for the night, do you mean?’
‘And take care of
your problem if you want her to,’ Olwen Price added with a meaningful look.
‘What’s her name?’
‘Mollie Parry. She lives in Coalbrookvale Terrace.’
‘How do I find that?’
‘It’s only a stone’s throw from Crawshay Bailey’s Roundhouses. Once you pass them it’s the road on your left.’
‘Mollie Parry, Coalbrookvale Terrace,’ repeated Kate.
‘That’s right. Number Seven. She’ll take you in. Her husband, Ianto Parry, caught the iron some four years back when he was working on the blast furnaces. The owners told her she could stay on in the Company house if she was willing to look after some homeless youngsters. Young boys who work as trammers in the pits or fillers at the furnace top. You tell her I sent you and she’ll make you welcome.’
‘Thanks, Olwen.’ Kate bent and kissed her plump cheek.
‘Will you come back again… someday?’ asked Olwen, her voice choked with emotion.
‘Of course I will.’ Kate picked up her canvas bag in one hand, her trunk in the other, then hesitated as she saw the disbelief in Olwen’s eyes. ‘I tell you what, Olwen, I’ll leave my trunk with you until then for safe keeping,’ she offered.
It was pitch dark and rain was falling when Kate finally left Morgan Edwards’ house.
Shivering in the chill night air, she made a dash across the courtyard to the shelter of the stable block. As she stood there looking back at the lighted windows of Machen Mawr, she wondered if she should change her mind and accept Olwen Price’s invitation to stay the night.
She drew back into the shadows as footsteps crunched on the gravel and she saw Brynmor coming towards the stables. For one terrifying moment she wondered if he had heard her leave the house and was looking for her. He passed so close to her that she could have touched him.
She held her breath as he started to climb the loft ladder, calling out softly to Twm Jenkins.
She could hear the low murmur of their voices above her head and wondered how long Brynmor would be. It was impossible now for her to leave without them hearing her. Shivering, she crept deeper into the straw and covered herself with one of the thick horse blankets.
As warmth permeated through her limbs, lulling her senses, Kate was afraid of drifting off to sleep. She tried to fight it, knowing how important it was for her to keep alert until Brynmor came down from the loft, but her lids drooped, her head lolled, her senses drifted.
When Kate opened her eyes again, the first shafts of morning light were poking grey fingers through the slits in the door. She strained to listen but no sound came from the loft. Cautiously she stood up, brushing the straw from her dress and cape. Picking up her bag she made her way quietly towards the door. When she lifted the heavy wooden bar that secured it the noise seemed as loud as thunder to her ears.
In her haste to be clear of Machen Mawr she made no attempt to close it after her.
The luminous dawn light was already dappling the sky, making her visible to anyone who might chance to look out of the windows.
As she trudged towards Nantyglo the sky was a dull red beckoning beacon. To her dismay, what had taken ten minutes in the horse and trap when she had been with Mathew took her half an hour on foot. Every few minutes she stopped to change her heavy bag from one hand to the other and massage her frozen fingers.
The rain from the night before had eased to a mere drizzle but a thin, biting wind swept down off the bare grey sides of Coity Mountain. Kate breathed a sigh of relief as the two Roundhouses loomed against the skyline, knowing that she had not much further to go.
With their thick, impenetrable walls and cast-iron window casements they looked like medieval battlements. Olwen had told her they had been built by the Baileys as places of retreat if ever the workers attacked. She looked for the magnificent mansion, Ty Mawr, where the Baileys lived, but it was hidden from view by an impressive avenue of trees.
Coalbrookvale Terrace was coming alive as she reached it. Mollie Parry’s house overflowed with boys of all ages and sizes. They scuttled like rabbits, shouting and squealing, as they washed under the outside pump, then darted back into the overcrowded living room to make ready to begin their working day.
Kate hesitated in the doorway, marvelling at the way Mollie Parry kept order. She was a short, plump woman in her late thirties, and wore her dark hair twisted into a bun and fastened on top of her head. She was dressed in a black skirt that reached to her boots and a dark red blouse with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. It seemed to Kate she must have eyes in the back of her head. She never once turned round from where she stood frying bacon in a pan over the open coal fire, yet the boys’ pushing and shoving stopped abruptly as she yelled to the offenders by name.
The silence that descended as the children caught sight of Kate was so intense that it did claim Mollie Parry’s attention.
‘Duw anwyl, there’s a fright you gave me,’ she frowned, staring ferociously at Kate.
‘Are you Mollie Parry?’ asked Kate.
‘What do you want?’ she asked suspiciously, her small mouth tightening.
‘Olwen Price sent me.’
‘D’you mean the housekeeper from Machen Mawr?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I can’t stop to talk to you now,’ scowled Mollie. ‘I must get this lot on their way or they’ll be late and the site foreman will stripe them.’ She began shouting orders to the children, who now ignored Kate and made short work of the food she placed on the scrubbed wooden table.
‘Sit down and have this while I see to the boyos and then we can talk.’ Abruptly Mollie Parry thrust a slice of bread topped with bacon into Kate’s hand.
‘Thank you!’ Hungrily Kate bit into the succulent wedge. Grease trickled from the corner of her mouth; she caught it with a forefinger, then licked her finger appreciatively.
‘Drink this while it’s hot.’ Mollie Parry poured out a cup of strong tea from the big pot keeping warm on the hob, and handed it to Kate.
Fifteen minutes later and the house in Coalbrookvale Terrace was as quiet as the grave.
The children, many of them barefoot, their thin bodies barely covered by their ragged clothes, had set off for pit or foundry in batches of two or three. Each of them was clutching their ‘bite’, a slice of bread and dripping wrapped up in a piece of cloth which had to last them until they got home again at night.
‘Now then, what’s all this about?’ Mollie Parry asked as she wiped the sweat from her face with a corner of her apron. She poured herself a cup of freshly made tea and refilled Kate’s cup. ‘I haven’t seen Olwen Price for the past year or even longer. Not ill, is she?’
‘No, no! Nothing like that.’
‘So it’s you that needs the help, is it?’ She cast a quick eye over Kate’s figure. ‘In the family way, not married, and so you want to get rid of it. Not that it shows as yet,’ she added, sipping her tea.
‘It’s not like that at all.’ Angrily Kate put her cup down on the table and pushed it away, upset by Mollie’s remarks.
‘So, why has Olwen Price sent you then?’ Mollie asked in a puzzled voice.
‘She said you would let me have a bed for a couple of nights. I’m trying to find someone…’
‘A man?’
‘Well… yes.’
‘The father, I suppose! Don’t tell me! Once he knew you were in the family way he vanished from…’
‘No!’ Kate’s voice rose indignantly as she cut Mollie Parry short. ‘It’s not like that at all.’
‘You mean he doesn’t know you’re looking for him.’
‘No… of course not!’
‘Then why d’you want to stay here?’
‘To give me time to decide what to do for the best.’
‘Been sporting with one of the gentry, eh? Lifted your skirts at the picnic outing to Abergavenny, did you!’ She laughed raucously.
‘No, no! Nothing at all like that. I’ve never been to Abergavenny, and I’m not expecting a baby,’ ex
claimed Kate in shocked tones. ‘I’m trying to find someone from Fforbrecon colliery,’ she explained.
‘Fforbrecon! That’s miles away.’
‘I was told it was near Blaenafon.’
‘Well, that’s the other side of the Blorenge. It’s a tidy walk, and no mistake. A couple of miles from here to Brynmawr and then another five miles at least to Blaenafon.’
‘Perhaps I can manage to get a lift?’
‘Perhaps and perhaps not,’ Mollie pursed her lips. ‘There’s been a lot of trouble at Fforbrecon in the past weeks.’
‘What sort of trouble?’
‘They had a cave-in. Underground explosion that brought down the roof. The men working the seam were trapped.’
‘Did… did they get them all out?’
‘No. They decided not to bother, they sealed up the tunnel.’
‘With the men inside!’ gasped Kate.
‘Said it was too difficult to do anything else.’
‘How could they be sure that all the men were dead?’
‘There was a meeting and the owners agreed it was the best thing to do.’
‘It couldn’t be! Didn’t the men’s families protest?’
‘No point. It would take two weeks to dig through so they’d be dead by then, anyway.’
‘What about the bodies… for burial?’
‘Well, they were buried already, weren’t they?’ muttered Mollie. ‘When you’re dead you’re dead and I don’t suppose it much matters what happens to your body after that.’
‘It still seems terrible,’ shivered Kate.
‘The owners said they could dig them out if they wanted… but it would mean no wages for two weeks. They get paid according to how much coal they dig, see.’
‘And that decided it!’
‘Not without a scuffle. Rumour has it that two men died. One of them was gentry.’
‘Really! Who… who was it?’
‘I’m not one to listen to gossip. There’s always trouble at one mine or the other. I have enough to worry about with the children they ask me to look after.’
‘The boys you’ve just sent off to work?’
‘Them and the other sort they send me.’ She reached under the table, and dragged out a boy of about eight years old.
