‘Good evening, Louie.’ Eleanor smiled as she stepped out of the car.
‘Evening, Mrs Reginald,’ Louie replied, and then felt a flush of panic to think how unwelcoming her home was. There was no fire in the grate or candles to light up the shadowed room. She had nothing to offer Eleanor to eat except some stale bread and a cup of water. Sadie was being fed at the centre now and Louie had given her the last scrapings of jam for tea. She stood unsure in her doorway, and Eleanor guessed her concern.
‘I’m sorry to call so late, Louie,’ she apologised. ‘I won’t stay more than a few minutes, I promise. I know you and Sadie will be wanting to retire.’ Sadie looked up shyly from her book and moved away from the step. She was still in awe of this formidable lady from the big house at the top of the hill.
‘Come in.’ Louie beckoned to her visitor. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t got the kettle on just now.’
‘Please don’t apologise,’ Eleanor answered hastily, feeling embarrassed at Louie’s discomfort. ‘I really don’t need any refreshment - I’ve just had dinner with friends in Durham.’ She went on hastily, guilty at the thought of the leisurely meal she had enjoyed at one of the university colleges. ‘I just came with some good news.’
‘Oh?’ Louie looked at her hopefully. ‘We can certainly do with some.’ She led Eleanor into her house and they sat on the two horsehair-stuffed chairs that Liza Ritson had given them when her aunt had died earlier in the year. Eleanor ignored the prickling discomfort of the seat against her thin satin dress and leaned forward in the shadows.
‘You remember I said I’d approach a London branch of the Women’s Guild of Service?’ Louie nodded. ‘Well, I’ve had a reply from the secretary of an East End branch. They’ve agreed to the idea of adopting Whitton Grange.’
Louie’s spirits rose. ‘So what does that mean, exactly?’
‘Well,’ Eleanor went on eagerly, ‘they’re collecting clothes which they’ll send on to your Distress Committee - and they’ve sent an immediate donation of ten pounds to buy food for your kitchen.’ Louie clapped her hands together in amazement.
‘Ten pounds just like that,’ she gasped. ‘We could buy some meat - give the bairns a proper meal for once.’
‘I’ll ask them for shoes and boots too, if they can spare them.’ Eleanor was heartened to see Louie’s pale face grow animated. ‘They may not be needed now, but if the dispute - God forbid - drags on into the autumn they’ll come in handy.’
‘Aye,’ Louie agreed, thinking how John and Davie had taken Sadie out scouring the rail tracks for old tyres with which to mend the men’s boots.
‘I was wondering, Louie, what do you say to giving the Guild something to raffle?’ Eleanor asked. ‘Something particular to a mining village that’ll be a bit of a novelty.’
Louie screwed her face up in thought. ‘I can’t think we’ve got much to give,’ she answered doubtfully. Then a thought struck her. ‘What about a pitman’s lamp? I don’t suppose those Londoners have seen one.’
‘That’s a marvellous idea,’ Eleanor replied. ‘If you can get hold of one for me, I’ll send it on. And if there’s anything else I can do, you’ll let me know, won’t you?’ She stood up, not wanting to impose on the tired young woman who, she noticed, was attempting to stifle a yawn. ‘I thought Sadie might like these.’ She pushed a package across the kitchen table. ‘Just a few treats.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Reginald,’ Louie said gratefully, leaving the packet unopened until her visitor went. ‘You shouldn’t have bothered.’ From the inviting smell, Louie could tell the contents were home-baked.
‘It’s not much.’ Eleanor waved a hand. ‘I’d like to give you more, but …’ She did not know how tactfully to explain that she did not want to tread on Louie’s pride in coping without charity.
‘You’ve given us more than enough,’ Louie answered stiffly.
‘Are your family keeping well?’ Eleanor changed the subject as they walked to the open door.
‘Well enough, thank you,’ Louie answered. ‘Davie’s hoping to get work up on Stand High Farm picking veg - my Auntie Eva and Uncle Jack live up there. Iris doesn’t want him to go’ - suddenly Louie found herself unburdening to the older woman - ‘thinks he might run off like Margaret’s husband. Our Davie’s not like that, of course, but there’s no use telling that to Iris.’
‘She’s bound to be concerned for Raymond’s sake,’ Eleanor commented, ‘though I’m sure she’s worrying needlessly.’ She did not add that perhaps Iris had cause for alarm, given Davie’s happy-go-lucky nature.
‘Well, anyway,’ Louie continued, ‘John’s working the allotment while Eb’s away, and my father helps out occasionally too.’
‘You’ll be looking forward to seeing your brother soon.’ Eleanor breathed in the night air, the ubiquitous whiff of coal fires less pronounced than usual.
‘Aye,’ Louie smiled, ‘Eb’ll be out next week.’ She glanced at Eleanor’s fine-boned face. Was it just the reflection of the dying sun that gave it a certain tinge? ‘You must care about him too, Mrs Reginald, what with you visiting him in gaol and that.’ Louie did not know where she got the nerve to make such an impertinent remark. Perhaps it was because they were standing on the sandstone doorstep together like equals, chatting as friends.
Eleanor shot her a look, momentarily taken aback, then softly she answered, ‘I do care about your brother, Louie.’
The words hung like a spell between them, bewitching them into silence. Eleanor stared out at the rooftops across the street and the ranks of terraced houses that marched away into the sunset. She wondered why she had opened her heart to this young girl from the pit village. Was she very foolish to do so? She did not want to embarrass Eb by her confession, but she could not have lied to Louie.
‘You won’t do anything to hurt him, miss, will you?’ Louie whispered her fear. ‘I know it’s not my place to say, but our Eb - well - he sometimes takes strange notions - doesn’t know his place. He thinks he’s a bit different from the rest of us - I think it was something to do with being away in the War, like. He’s very deep, our Eb, keeps his feelings hidden, but - well -I know he has a high regard for you, Mrs Reginald. And I don’t want to see him hurt; I just thought I’d mention it, seeing how you were being frank with me.’ Louie held her breath, hoping she had not gone too far.
Eleanor was mortified by Louie’s forthright words. The girl had no right to speak to her like that. It was a matter between herself and Eb. Yet nagging at the back of her mind was the guilty thought that Louie was right; even in her position of power she could offer Eb nothing but frustration and heartache. But she could not bear the truth.
‘I merely care about him as a friend,’ Eleanor turned to face the other woman and put a briskness into her voice, ‘as I care for all your family. It’s a part of my duty, that’s all; I thought you understood our relationship, Louie. As for Eb, he is man enough to look after himself. He has nothing to fear from me.’
Louie blushed at the reproof. ‘No, of course not, miss.’ She put an arm about Sadie who was clamped around her waist, turning perplexed dark eyes on each of them in turn. Louie hoped the girl did not understand their discussion.
‘I’ll call again next week for the lamp.’ Eleanor opened her car door. The street was almost deserted now, apart from two boys squatting in the road chatting about motor cars, waiting to see the green vehicle start up and roar away.
‘Good night, Mrs Reginald.’ Louie waved a hand, and Sadie echoed her farewell. Eleanor returned the gesture and slammed the door shut. With a noisy gurgle from the engine, the car sparked into life and trundled away down the narrow lane.
‘Is Miss Eleanor in love with our Eb?’ Sadie startled Louie with her question.
‘What on earth makes you think that?’ her cousin replied sharply.
‘I think she is,’ Sadie pronounced with a serious nod of her head. ‘She goes all funny when she talks about him. And I saw them together in the woods last Christmas, remember?’
‘What do you know about such things?’ Louie said shortly. ‘You mustn’t go spreading any rumours, mind. Do you hear me, Sadie?’ Louie’s look was stern. Sadie glared back crossly at Louie, annoyed at being treated like a child. She was not the bairn they all thought she was and she knew they had been arguing over Eb, not so much in the words said, but in the way they had been spoken.
‘I’ll not say.’ Sadie stuck her nose in the air, haughtily disengaging herself and pushing her way inside. Louie stood looking after her, struck once more by the proof that her young cousin was growing up fast in these hard times.
Eb came home the following week, cheerful and fit, though he had lost his sun-bleached appearance and his shaven head marked him out from the other men. He brought news that Sam and Bomber were in good heart and counting off the days until their release. Eb went straight back to the allotment, reasserting his authority over the small patch of ground, and set to his gardening with renewed vigour. John handed back the job without any protest, though he was less enthusiastic about giving up the privilege of tending the Joices’ garden, for at Greenbrae he was pressed to eat dainty sandwiches and homemade scones, a sight that had long since disappeared from the Kirkup table. But a potential clash between the brothers was averted by the offer of work up on Stand High Farm. Davie and John set off early on a sunny Monday morning to walk the ten miles to the isolated farm up the valley where they were to help pick vegetables.
Louie, meanwhile, continued her work for the Distress Committee, though she found herself slowing down and increasingly exhausted by the weight she carried in her belly. She became used to sudden palpitations and hot flushes that left her breathless, heart hammering as if it would burst from her chest. She chided herself, telling herself she was young and strong, and did her best not to let the others notice her discomfort.
With early July came the ominous news that Baldwin’s Government had passed a bill in Parliament allowing the raising of their working hours to eight hours a day. It was a blow to the pitmen, a sign that they were losing ground to the coal owners and that sympathy for their plight was waning. They braced themselves for the next development.
A few days later, Eb went round to Louie’s house on a hot Friday afternoon, bringing a head of lettuce and some runner beans for her tea. The small room in Gladstone Terrace was stiflingly hot, even though the front door was ajar to encourage a draught of air. Louie sat awkwardly in a chair by the back door fanning herself with one of Sadie’s library books. Her face was flushed and her cotton dress clung damply around her armpits and chest. She could feel the sweat trickling down between her full breasts like a leaky tap.
‘Have you seen the notices on the pit gates?’ she asked her brother listlessly, too weak to rise from her stupor.
‘No, I’ve just come from the allotment,’ Eb called over his shoulder from the small scullery, where he was helping himself to a cup of water. A large fly buzzed drowsily at the disturbance and then flew recklessly into the dangling fly paper, its protest abruptly cut short. Eb downed the water and poured himself another cupful from the jug. ‘What’s the news?’
‘They’re going to try and open the pit again,’ Louie told him. ‘They’re offering new contracts - eight-hour day for less wages.’
‘Bastards,’ Eb muttered, his jaw clenching in anger. ‘No one will go back on such terms - they must think we’re daft.’
‘The notice says they’ll guarantee police protection for anyone that wants to return,’ Louie answered, a worried frown hovering over her blue eyes. ‘There are those desperate enough to think about going back cap in hand. I see them every day at the soup kitchen.’
‘Don’t worry yourself, Louie,’ Eb cajoled his sister. ‘The strike here is solid. There’s one thing the hewers won’t accept and that’s an eight-hour day. We fought long and hard for the six-and-a-half-hour shift - it’s enough when a man’s sweating his guts out in that hole. They can’t expect us to work longer for less pay - it’s not human.’
But Louie could not shake off the feeling of dread that clutched the back of her neck and left her tense and anxious.
‘I wish Sam were here.’ She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, trying to fight down her fear.
‘He will be soon.’ Eb looked at his sister in concern. He took hold of her damp hands and squeezed them. ‘Why don’t you come over to Mam’s tonight, eh? You and Sadie. We’ll have a singsong round the piano, we haven’t done that for ages. Iris has a face as long as a horse with Davie away - you could cheer each other up.’
Louie opened her eyes and smiled fondly at her eldest brother. At times, when he barricaded himself into some inner world and kept them all out, she could not guess his thoughts. But when her spirits were really low, no one could comfort her as Eb could; he seemed to have a gift for saying the right thing at the right time, or just staying quiet when words would only jar.
‘I’d like that,’ she answered.
A thumping on the front door made her turn round in fright. A figure cast a shadow into the room.
‘I’ll go.’ Eb jumped up immediately. He crossed the room in three strides and pulled open the door. The under-manager, Naylor, was standing there grim-faced, with two other men Eb did not recognise. The official was a short man with thinning brown hair and a blue scar on his forehead that told of his past service underground . Eb knew him for an aggressive, short-tempered man who had worked hard to attain his position of authority at the pit.
‘Is Mrs Ritson at home?’ he demanded.
‘Aye, what do you want with her?’ Eb blocked his way.
‘I’ll speak with her in person,’ Naylor ordered.
‘What is it, Eb?’ Louie rose from her chair and peered past him at the men in her doorway.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Ritson,’ Naylor entered and addressed her sternly, ‘but I’m giving you notice to quit number sixteen Gladstone Terrace.’
‘What?’ Louie gasped in disbelief.
‘What do you mean?’ Eb demanded incredulously.
‘The colliery management are repossessing this dwelling. We’re giving you three days’ notice. Mrs Ritson must be out by Monday.’ Louie stood staring at the manager, stunned by his harsh words. She gripped the back of her chair for support.
Eb took a step towards Naylor and clenched his fists threateningly. ‘You’d throw a pregnant woman out onto the street?’ He shook with rage. ‘Have you no shame?’
‘We’re not throwing anyone out - yet.’ Naylor stood his ground. ‘The plain fact is Sam Ritson is no longer a desirable tenant - he’s a common criminal and troublemaker who no longer works for us, and we don’t want his sort at the pit. We don’t have anything against Mrs Ritson personally. We know she’s from a good family.’
‘You can’t chuck me out,’ Louie whispered, the panic rising inside her at the thought of being made homeless. ‘This is our house. It’s not much, but it’s ours.’ She felt hot tears of anger stinging her eyes. ‘And the Ritsons are just as decent as the next folk, my Sam included. Are you going to throw the whole of Whitton Grange out on its ear, Mr Naylor? Because Sam’s done no more than any self-respecting pitman would do.’
‘Sam Ritson has a criminal record,’ Naylor repeated defensively, unnerved by the vulnerable look on Louie’s face. He hadn’t been aware of quite how pregnant the woman was. He continued, ‘Besides, the house will be needed by someone who wishes to work.’
‘Do you think anyone in the village would see Sam and Louie made homeless and then step in and take Sam’s job as well?’ Eb asked with scorn.
‘Maybe not,’ Naylor said coldly, ‘but we anticipate labour coming to the pits from elsewhere - men who are not work-shy. We shall accommodate them by any means possible. Now I’m just doing my job - and I’m giving Mrs Ritson plenty of warning.’
‘You bastard!’ Eb went at him with a raised fist, but one of the other men stepped in and grabbed his arm, twisting it viciously.
‘Leave him alone!’ Louie screamed
, her pulse hammering in her ears like a forge iron. ‘Just get out of my house, the lot of you!’ The official and his henchmen retreated quickly from the distraught woman, pushing aside children who had gathered in the street at the sound of raised voices.
Louie felt a wave of nausea engulf her body, leaving her giddy. ‘Eb, I feel faint.’ She reached out for him, and as she toppled forward, her brother ran to catch her. She doubled up as a spasm of pain twisted her insides. Clutching her stomach, Louie allowed Eb to lead her to the bed.
She lay down as Eb went to fetch her a drink of water and felt another cramp knot in her belly. He came back with a damp flannel and pressed it to her brow, then gently tilted her head so she could sip the tepid water. Louie sank back, her head swimming and heart pounding uncomfortably.
‘You just rest for a minute,’ Eb said with concern, continuing to stroke her forehead with the cloth. Louie closed her eyes and tried to calm herself, pretending that she was beginning to feel better, that the pain was easing off.
Half an hour later she sat up, her face contorted as her body was gripped by another contraction. ‘Go and get Mam,’ Louie whispered to her brother, ‘please, go and get Mam.’
Eb found Sadie in the street and told her to watch by Louie’s bedside while he went for his mother. The girl ran in and saw with fright how her cousin panted on the bed and cried out in pain. She wanted to turn and run, but forced herself to hold Louie’s hand. She gripped it fiercely, as if by doing so she could prevent her cousin from slipping into unconsciousness.
When Fanny arrived, Sadie’s fear mounted at her aunt’s troubled face. She peered at Louie’s sobbing, contorted visage and felt her burning head.
‘I want you to run over to Greenbrae and ask Dr Joice to come,’ Fanny instructed Sadie.
Sadie gulped. ‘Is Louie going to die?’
‘Of course not,’ the older woman replied sharply, glancing fearfully at Louie, thankful that she appeared not to have heard. ‘Now just do as I say. Quickly!’
Sadie ran blindly for the dene and the houses on the far side, tears blurring her vision. She repeated over and over again that Louie was not going to die, as if the words could act as a charm to protect her favourite cousin. Dr Joice was not at home. A bewildered Isobel Joice tried to calm the distraught girl long enough for her to deliver her message. She called for Hilda, who managed to comprehend that it was Louie who needed the doctor’s attention.
Durham Trilogy 01. The Hungry Hills Page 28
