Durham Trilogy 03. Never Stand Alone

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  Moments later, the lines of shield-carrying officers broke ranks and the mounted police came charging through, swinging long batons as they bore down on the pickets. Mick stood paralysed by the sight and noise of mounted men on the move like some medieval army sweeping all before them. Then there was a scramble of men around him trying to get out of the way and he was knocked into the ditch.

  There was nowhere for pickets to go except back up the road they had just come down, pursued by horses, or over the wall into the nearby field where police with dogs were waiting for them. Mick scrambled to his feet in frustration and ran along the road, but very soon the horses were among them, scattering the miners while the riders bludgeoned them with truncheons. Mick, who had lost sight of his friends, suddenly saw Dan being knocked to the ground. He ran over to help him as he cowered in the grass with his arms over his head.

  By now the mounted police had ridden past and were galloping up the far hill, but other police on foot were running up behind, kicking and punching and arresting as they went.

  ‘Get up lad!’ Mick shouted to Dan as he pulled on his arm. He saw the terror on the young man’s face. ‘Stick with me.’

  There was mayhem around them as Mick tried to run along the side of the wall and avoid their pursuers. Behind the riot police trundled the vans ready to receive the arrested. Up ahead, Mick saw the mounted officers turn at the top of the hill. With sickening realisation he saw that they were going to charge down on them once again.

  ‘Quick, Dan, over the wall!’ he ordered.

  As Dan heaved in panic, Mick gave him a shove up and hauled himself after him. Just as they were about to jump down the other side, a voice shouted, ‘That’s the one!’ and someone caught at his legs and yanked him backwards. He heard Dan scream as he was pulled back too, and then Mick was falling, landing with a thud on his shoulder. Pain ripped through his upper arm. He looked up to see a helmeted officer coming at him with his truncheon and rolled out of the way. The weapon caught him on the leg.

  Beside him he could hear Dan crying as he was kicked in the stomach and groin.

  ‘You’re going to lose this one, you hairy bastard!’ Mick’s attacker yelled. ‘And so’s your bastard leader, Scargill!’

  Mick felt himself being pulled up by his hair and thought his scalp was coming away from his head. He felt blind fury and punched out wildly in defence, roaring, ‘You’ll never beat us, you fascist pigs!’

  He must have caught the man under his visor, because for a moment he staggered back and let go. Mick turned to Dan’s attacker and threw himself at the uniformed legs, bringing the officer down in a tackle. But moments later he was stunned by a whack to the ear and hunched up in agony as another truncheon rained down on his back.

  He was dragged up by an arm round his neck and someone jabbed fingers in his eyes. Mick felt sick at the sudden blinding pain and could not see what was happening to Dan. Two men dragged him towards one of the waiting vans. Around him, Mick was aware of fighting, but something was trickling into his eyes and blurring his sight. He was thrown on to the van floor and then his captor gave him a final kick in the back before slamming the door shut.

  Mick lay for what seemed like an age, his head throbbing and body aching from the blows. Then he pushed himself up, wincing at the movement, and tried to focus in the gloom of the van. Someone else was in there with him. Mick could clearly hear his sobbing.

  He reached over and touched the man’s shoulder. Dan’s swollen face looked up at his own.

  ‘It’s all right, lad,’ Mick tried to reassure him, but Dan seemed beyond comforting. He shook and cried until an officer came back and handcuffed them. They could hear the noise of battle outside and the charge of men on horseback once more. It was hot in the van and Mick’s throat was parched. They sat on in silence, not quite believing what was going on outside. At last, the noise gradually began to subside.

  The door opened once more and three men were bundled into the van.

  ‘Mick,’ a voice cried out in surprise. ‘Is that you?’

  Mick blinked in the sudden light. It appeared to be the policeman at the door who had called his name. The man climbed in.

  ‘By heck, you’re in a bit of a state.’ He squatted down beside him and pulled off his helmet. Only then did Mick recognise Carol’s brother, Simon. His boyish fair face was wincing in concern at the sight of his brother-in-law. ‘That’s a shiner you’ve got. Wait a minute.’ He searched about and from somewhere produced a bottle of water. He poured some over Mick’s face and the cut above his eye. ‘Here, take a swig,’ he said.

  ‘Give a drink to the lad first,’ Mick answered, nodding towards Dan. He had gone very quiet with his head hunched between his knees, but when Simon touched him on the shoulder he jerked up in panic.

  ‘Drink,’ Mick ordered. Dan obeyed, gulping greedily at the warm water. ‘Pass it round, Simon,’ Mick said, gesturing with his bound hands. Finally, Simon held the bottle to his lips and Mick felt the water trickle down his swollen throat. ‘Ta,’ he gasped.

  ‘I wondered if I’d ever come across you,’ Simon said. ‘Never thought it would get this bad, mind.’ He began to chat as if they were on some outing, asking after Carol and Laura. He burbled on and on as if in relief to be out of the chaos of the past hours. ‘You must come round and see our new house sometime,’ he said. ‘Not that we’re there much at the moment. Kate complains she never sees me these days. But the extra money comes in useful.’ He caught Mick’s look. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean . . .’

  The door banged open and an officer stuck in his head. ‘You; out!’ he ordered.

  Simon grabbed his helmet and jumped out of the van without another word.

  ‘Friends with a copper,’ one of the pickets muttered and spat on the floor. ‘Not an undercover agent, are you?’

  ‘He’s me brother-in-law,’ Mick answered without emotion.

  There was silence and then one of the others said, ‘It’s like a civil war, dividing families. There’s a copper lives in our street. Went to school with him - canny lad. Now me kids are scared of him, call him names behind his back. How can we ever go back to how it was before?’

  ‘We can’t,’ the other answered simply.

  Silently, Mick agreed. After the violence he had witnessed today, he could not imagine going with Carol to visit Simon’s new house. However amiable Carol’s brother was, his house was renovated with money earned on overtime fighting pickets while they struggled to eat. He felt the bile of bitterness flood his throat and nearly choke him. Nothing would be the same again.

  Shortly afterwards they were driven away.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Carol sat holding Linda like a small child while she cried into her neck.

  ‘It’s OK, cry all you want,’ Carol crooned. Denise sat in the chair opposite, her legs curled beneath her like a cat, observing.

  ‘I was so frightened on me own,’ Linda wept. ‘It was terrible when he left. . .’

  ‘It must have been,’ Carol sympathised. ‘But you’re not on your own now; you’ve got your family around you.’

  Linda pulled away. ‘It’s all their fault in the first place. Me dad going on at Dan all the time to marry us. And Mam didn’t stick up for us either, like she should’ve done.’

  ‘Your mam’s always stood by you,’ Carol reminded her gently, ‘and your dad was thinking of the baby.’

  ‘Everyone thinks about the baby but no one thinks about me,’ Linda wailed. ‘It’s ruined me life - I wish I’d never got pregnant. Dan doesn’t want a bairn and now he doesn’t want me because of it!’

  Carol held her young sister-in-law close. ‘It doesn’t help getting all upset. Everyone’s under a bit of strain at the moment, but it won’t go on for ever. Dan will come round to the idea in time and you two’ll be back together.’ Carol was not sure if she believed her own words, but all that mattered just now was that Linda calmed down. She sent Denise into the kitchen for water and coaxed Linda to go and lie down
on Laura’s bed.

  ‘I don’t even know where Dan is,’ Linda sobbed as Carol covered her with Laura’s pink eiderdown. ‘I haven’t seen him for a week.’

  Carol suspected that Dan might be away picketing with Mick, but said nothing.

  Later in the day, she persuaded Linda to see her mother and hurried down to the Welfare to fetch Lotty. Her mother-in-law climbed on her moped and rushed straightaway to see Linda. When Carol got back, having collected Laura from school, she found them cuddling on the settee together sharing a precious packet of custard creams, as if there had been no rift. Denise had left.

  Carol marvelled at how Lotty could lose her temper one minute and forget and forgive the next. She never carried grudges or nursed slights as her own parents did, bringing them up years later as evidence of their child’s worthlessness. Lotty scolded and fussed and loved and forgave in equal measure - a tiny woman with an enormous heart, Carol had learnt.

  ‘Linda must have her old bedroom back for as long as she wants to stay,’ Lotty announced. ‘Eddy will have to move out and find somewhere else in the meantime.’ She gave Carol a direct look.

  ‘He can come and kip here,’ Carol offered at once, knowing that’s what Lotty wanted.

  ‘Thanks, pet.’ Lotty smiled at her and touched her hand briefly.

  It was while they were carrying Linda’s belongings over to Septimus Street that news of trouble came through. Charlie came rushing down the lane to meet them.

  ‘Come inside,’ he urged. ‘Some of the pickets are back.’ Only then did he notice Linda. ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.

  Lotty silenced his questions. ‘I’ll explain in a minute. Tell us what you know.’

  Charlie came straight to the point. ‘Some of the lads have been arrested.’

  ‘Mick?’ Carol asked anxiously.

  Charlie shrugged. ‘We don’t know who or how many, but it looks likely. John Taylor said it was like a battle. Marty Dillon was nabbed early on and John thought he saw Eddy being taken away. If they’re not back by this evening, then . . .’

  Carol felt her insides twist. At once, Lotty put her arms about her. There was no need for words.

  Linda gave a mirthless laugh. ‘At least Dan won’t be with them. He’s too much of a coward to get himself in trouble. He’ll be at home eating his mam’s three-course meals.’

  Charlie shook his head sadly. ‘Sorry, Linda, pet, but Dan went off with them three days ago - I saw him go. I had no idea you’d fallen out, he never said.’

  Linda gawped at her father and then burst into tears. ‘You made him go, didn’t you? It’s all your fault, all this stupid picketing. You’ve spoilt everything between Dan and me. I’ll never forgive you!’

  ‘Hush, lass, you mustn’t speak to your father like that,’ Lotty chided. She gave her husband a sorrowful look. ‘She doesn’t mean it, Charlie.’

  But Carol could see the hurt in Charlie’s tired eyes. He got up abruptly. ‘I have to get back. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.’

  He bolted for the door and instinctively Carol went after him. ‘I’ll walk down with you, see if there’s any news. Come on, Laura,’ she called to her daughter who was tussling with Dougal. The girl followed, looking perplexed by all the arguing, and gripped Carol’s hand tightly. The dog went to Charlie’s heels without being called.

  As they went out through the yard, Carol noticed Laura clutch at her grandfather’s hand too. Charlie grasped it and Carol felt a pang of sympathy for her tight-lipped father-in-law having to shoulder the worries of them all. Once, he would have sparked back with his youngest daughter for being cheeky but he was too preoccupied and careworn to argue with her now.

  They hung around the hall waiting for news, until Laura was nearly asleep on her feet. None came. Eventually, Lotty, who had come down to be with them, persuaded Carol to take Laura home.

  ‘If he’d been arrested, he would have got a message to us by now,’ Carol fretted. ‘What if something’s happened to them on the way home?’

  ‘We’ll hear something soon,’ Lotty assured her. ‘I’ll come home with you if you like.’

  ‘But you’ve got Linda to worry about,’ Carol said.

  ‘Our Val’s come round so she’s not alone. Haway, let’s get Laura to bed.’

  So Carol allowed Lotty to take control, but later she insisted that she was all right and that Lotty should get back to Linda. She sat for a while in the darkening sitting room, the television flickering in the corner for company. Then pictures of the confrontation at Orgreave came on the late news and Carol strained to catch sight of Mick. When there was no sign of any miners from Brassbank, she swiftly turned it off.

  A timid knock on the door startled her from anxious thoughts. Denise’s ghostly face peered out of the dark.

  ‘I heard about the arrests. Thought you might like some company.’

  Carol smiled and pulled her in. Thanks, Denise.’

  She knew she did not have to make conversation with Linda’s old friend, because the girl was comfortable with silence. They shared some homemade biscuits that Denise’s mother had made and watched a late film together, wrapped in blankets as the room grew chilly.

  Carol must have dozed off; the telephone ringing startled her awake. She jumped to answer it.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Carol, it’s me, Simon.’

  ‘Simon?’ Carol repeated confused, and then realised it was her brother. She felt disorientated; she had not spoken to him in weeks.

  ‘It’s about Mick,’ he said hesitantly. ‘Have you heard from him?’

  ‘No. What do you know?’ Carol demanded, heart racing. ‘Tell me!’

  ‘I saw him this afternoon. He’s been arrested.’

  ‘Oh, God! Where is he?’

  ‘I haven’t seen him since - since he was picked up. They were taking him to the local police station. But from what I hear most of them have been moved on.’

  ‘Where to?’ Carol tried to make sense of it all. ‘And why?’

  ‘They’ll have to appear before the magistrates. Maybe at this very moment, I don’t really know.’

  ‘At this time of night?’ Carol was incredulous.

  ‘They’ll sit through the night if necessary.’

  ‘Oh, Simon, what’s he done?’ Carol asked in fear.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Simon was guarded. ‘There were dozens of them. They’ll be up on riot charges probably. Listen, I have to go. I just didn’t want you worrying.’

  ‘Worrying? Of course I’m damn well worrying! What are they going to do with him? When will he come home?’

  ‘I don’t know. He was OK. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.’

  She wanted to laugh. None of her family had come near them since the start of the strike to see if they were coping. Simon had steered clear, not wanting to get involved or anger his parents. Anything for an easy life, Carol thought. ‘And what can you do for me, Simon?’ she challenged. ‘Get him released?’

  ‘Sorry, Carol, I really am.’

  ‘Don’t hang up on me! Simon!’

  The line went dead. Carol slammed down the receiver. ‘Damn you!’

  Questions crowded into her mind. What was her brother doing there? Had he arrested Mick? Who else was with him? All she knew was that her worst fears had been realised and her husband was in police custody. Carol sat down shaking. She was living a night-mare; things were beginning to slip out of her control.

  There was another quiet knock on the back door. Denise went to open it. Pete Fletcher padded into the room like a lean panther. He looked concerned. ‘I heard. I was worried about you.’

  Without thinking, Carol rushed across the room and hugged him. He understood the situation. He might be able to do something for the men. Pete was sympathetic and considerate and solidly there in the midst of all the turmoil. She felt his wiry arms go round her in a warm hug. She wanted to cry, but forced herself not to succumb. Suddenly she was embarrassed by her show of emotion and pulled aw
ay.

  ‘Sorry. I’ve just heard that Mick’s going before the magistrates’ court on riot charges.’

  Pete squeezed her arms. ‘Poor Carol. I’ll stay with you until you hear more.’

  Carol shook her head. ‘I must go down and tell Charlie. Denise.’ She turned to her and saw the watchful expression under the curtain of black hair. ‘Could you stay here, in case Laura wakes up?’

  Denise nodded.

  ‘I’ll walk you down to the hall, then,’ Pete offered at once. He didn’t like the way the silent friend was giving him black looks.

  ‘Thanks,’ Carol smiled at them both.

  They set off down the dimly lit lane. Pete put an arm round her shoulders.

  ‘You should’ve called me. I could have made some inquiries,’ he said softly. ‘I really do care.’

  Carol felt suddenly uncomfortable. She found his touch too intimate, too unsettling, his voice too sensual. Moving away from him, she answered, ‘So you say. But you haven’t done much for our cause yet, have you, Pete? Where are all the articles you promised, telling our side of things?’

  It was too dark to see him flush. ‘I have to get things past the editors first - they aren’t always on the same side as the journalists.’ He put out a hand and touched her arm. ‘But I am on your side, Carol. I want to help you all I can.’

  ‘All I want is for Mick to come back to me,’ she told him bluntly.

  They walked on in silence, acutely aware of the space between them.

  Mick sat sweating on a crowded bench in the stifling holding room. Men were packed in all around, some with torn clothes and serious gashes and bruises to their heads and faces. No one came to attend to them. Hardly anyone spoke. There was a feeling of stunned exhaustion about them all. A young Scot next to him wept quietly, tormented by how his family would be worrying. Another boy had fainted earlier with the heat. They had been charged with nothing and yet their photos and fingerprints had been taken and their pockets emptied. Shoelaces, belts and earrings had been removed. Mick worried about Dan’s knife which had been found on him.