Tilly Trotter (The Tilly Trotter Trilogy)

by Catherine Cookson

  As she went between the mangle and the clothes line it came to her that instead of going into Shields the morrow to look for a place she could perhaps get a job in the mine beside Katie and stay in this family, this family that seemed bound together with love and warmth. Oh, she would like that. Oh, she would. She’d do anything if she could only stay with this family.

  Seven

  It was Katie who said, ‘You go down the pit? Don’t be daft! you’d never last five minutes down there, not you.’

  That was three days ago; since then she had tramped daily around Shields only to find that all respectable posts required a reference, and sometimes not only one but three. She had thought of going back and asking the master for one, but then that would mean facing the staff in the house again. She had thought, too, of Simon; he would have spoken up highly for her, she was sure, but she couldn’t bring herself to go to the farm because likely or not she’d meet his wife.

  Days could pass now when she never thought of Simon, but the moment his name came into her mind the pain came into her heart. Still, she was able to tell herself now that time would erase this feeling. It would have to, because she didn’t see herself as going on alone all her days, she needed someone, someone to love and to love her. Yet the real need in her was not so much for someone to love her but to be kind to her; she treasured kindness.

  So it was as she lay in bed facing Katie who had young Fanny curled into her back, that she again put her suggestion to her. This time, her voice a whispered hiss, Katie said, ‘You haven’t any idea, lass, what it’s like down there. I’m used to it but I’d give my eye teeth if I could get a job up top. And yet at the same time I tell meself I should thank God I’ve got work, that we’ve all got work, ’cos what else is there for us around here? But you down there? No, Tilly; I can’t see you down there, ever. An’ our Sam won’t hear of it either . . . You’ll get work, work that’ll suit you like what you’ve been doin’.’

  ‘I won’t, Katie; as I’ve told you, I’ve got no references, an’ all I was offered today was a job in a pub on the waterfront. I was told about this place from the woman who gets people jobs. You have to pay sixpence and after I gave it to her she gave me two addresses, and as I said, one was the pub. It was awful. There were women in there, Katie . . . oh, you wouldn’t believe it!’

  ‘Oh, I believe it all right’ – Katie’s voice sounded practical – ‘I believe it ’cos I’ve seen it. You haven’t to go any further than the Cock and Bull on the coach road. Stand out there on a Saturday night in the summer and you’ll see some things that you’ve never seen afore, especially when they start throwing them out. What was the other job?’

  ‘It . . . it was a kind of boarding house, and she said I’d . . . I’d have to live in. I nearly thought about taking it until she said she didn’t mind me not havin’ references – it was something about the place. I got out as quickly as I could, an’ she came after me to the door.’

  ‘You were lucky’ – Katie started to shake with laughter – ‘you might have landed up in bed with a Swede.’

  ‘Oh, Katie!’

  They pushed at each other, and Fanny cried, ‘Stop kickin’, our Katie,’ and a male voice from the other end of the room said, ‘Shut up yous over there, I want to get to sleep.’

  ‘Shut up yoursel’!’ hissed Katie. ‘You shouldn’t be listenin’.’

  ‘I wasn’t an’ I want none of your old lip, else I’ll come an’ pull you out of bed.’

  ‘We wouldn’t have far to fall, would we?’ Katie was laughing again, and Tilly chuckled with her because their bed was merely a straw-filled mattress on the floor, and this made out of hessian bags. But still it was warm, and when half an hour ago she had dropped into it, it had seemed as soft as a down couch to her for her legs were aching and her feet were blistered with walking.

  When Katie put her arms around her she shyly did the same, and soon, their heads together, they went to sleep.

  At four o’clock in the morning Biddy gently shook Katie. She was lying on her back and she muttered a protest, but then, blinking the dead sleep from her eyes she quietly stepped over Tilly and, pulling on her over clothes that were lying on the floor by the side of the shaky-down, she stumbled into the kitchen and blinked in the lamplight.

  Peg, who slept with her mother in the kitchen, was already dressed and gulping at some hot porridge, as was Sam. No-one spoke; not even when the three of them went out of the door and Biddy closed it behind them: sleep was still on them, the morning was bitter, there was a day’s grind ahead, what was there to say?

  Three mornings later there was an addition to their number. Tilly was with them and, breaking the rule, Biddy patted her on the shoulder and said, ‘God be with you, lass’; then added to herself as she closed the door on the blackness and the bitter frost, ‘You’ll need Him.’

  Tilly’s heart was thumping against her ribs as she followed Katie round the end of a row of bogies, then almost brushed against the flank of a horse that was being led towards a huddle of buildings set at the side of a wide slope which disappeared into the ground.

  The scene was lit by swaying candle lamps, the candles held in place inside rude tin boxes.

  ‘Keep close if you don’t want to be trampled by the cuddies,’ Katie said, pulling Tilly towards her as they went between a group of horses hardly discernible as they stood in deep shadow.

  ‘Come on, this way, and mind what I told you, don’t be afraid to answer him back, and if he asks if you’re willin’ to be bonded say, Why aye . . . what else?’

  Tilly made no answer, but, as Katie had bidden her she kept close to her side. And then they were standing at the window of a wooden hut and a man was peering at them. Tilly couldn’t distinguish his face because he was standing against the light, she only saw that he was short and thin. But that didn’t make him uncommon, all the men who went down mines seemed to be short and thin. It was his voice that made him different, it was deep and rollicking and he seemed to sing his words. ‘Aye, well, here you are, Katie Drew, and half a day gone!’

  ‘Stop your carry on, Mr Rice, it’s too early in the mornin’. I’ve brought her.’ She nodded towards Tilly.

  ‘Aye, I’m not blind, I didn’t think she was your shadda. Well now, lass, I suppose she’s told you all there is to know. You know somethin’?’ He leaned towards her from the window. ‘She thinks she knows more about this bloody hole in the ground than I do. You willin’ to be bonded, lass?’

  ‘Yes . . . aye.’

  ‘Well, if that’s the case you know what you’re in for, and I’m tellin’ you something, you’re lucky. If Katie here hadn’t spoke for you you’d never have been set on; there’s a queue from here to Jarrow for a job like this.’

  ‘Stop your kiddin’, Mr Rice; you know damn fine anybody’s got to be on their last legs afore they go down that bloody hole.’ She jerked her head to the side. ‘Anyway, I’ll take her in.’

  ‘Aye, you will after she signs. Come in here a minute.’

  Katie pushed Tilly before her and into the hut and to the front of a high desk on which there were two ledgers. Dave Rice, opening one of them, said, ‘Give us your full name, then you can write your cross.’

  Tilly slanted her eyes towards Katie and a small tremor of Katie’s head sent a warning to her, so what she said was, ‘Tilly Trotter.’

  ‘Married?’ There was a grin on his face now as he poked it towards her.

  ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘Then it’s Tilly Trotter, spinster.’ After writing her name in the ledger he put the date to the side of it; then stabbing the pen on to the paper, he said, ‘Put it there,’and she put her cross by the side of her name.

  His face straight now, he said, ‘You know the rates, twelve shillings a fortnight. But that depends, of course, on how much they bring out. You’ll be workin’ marrer with Katie and Florrie Connor, isn’t it?’ He turned and glanced at Katie and she said, ‘You know as well as I do.’

  ‘Cheeky monk
ey you!’ He grinned at Katie now. ‘It’s about time you had your arse smacked. I’ll have to see about it.’

  ‘That’ll be the day. Come on.’ She tugged at Tilly’s arm, and they were hardly out of earshot of the hut when she said, ‘Mean bugger that. You watch out for ’im, if you’re not along of me. Now hold your hand a minute.’ She pulled Tilly to a stop and, lifting her lantern, she peered at her through its flickering light, saying, ‘Now I’ve warned you, you’re gona get a gliff when you get along inbye, ’cos I’m gona tell you something here and now, Miss Nursery Maid from the big house’ – she punched her gently in the shoulder – ‘in a couple of days’ time you’ll realise that the cleanest things, in all ways, down here are the horses. An’ at bait time keep your eyes straight ahead an’ don’t take no notice of what you see on the thill.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The thill, the floor, you know at the coal seam, it’s called that, the thill. As I said, keep your eyes straight ahead ’cos things go on round corners that’ll likely make your hair rise on your scalp. I suppose it’s true what our Sam said last night, you should have kept on lookin’ for a decent position. Still here you are, you’ve signed up an’ you can’t get out of it unless you go and die like Florrie Thompson, whose job you’ve got. But it wasn’t the coal that killed her, it was the consumption . . . Aw! come on, here’s the squad.’ She half turned to where the group of men, women, and children were making their way towards the incline and she added, ‘I thought we’d get to the face afore they came, I wanted to show you things quiet like. Not that it’s ever quiet down here, but with the crew around us . . . aw, come on, come on, put a move on.’

  Bewildered, her innards seeming to have broken loose in the casing of her stomach, she scurried now to keep up with Katie’s trotting steps. She was afraid as she’d never been afraid before. This was a different kind of fear. The fear associated with Hal McGrath had come and gone from time to time but this particular fear she felt was going to be permanent. She was walking into a world that didn’t belong to any kind of life she had yet imagined. She was going along what appeared to be a tunnel with iron rails down the middle, and she went to step in between them for easier walking when Katie with a bawl that nearly took her head off cried, ‘Do you want to be run over afore you start? Don’t be so bloody gormless, lass, that’s the rolley way. Look.’ She pointed ahead to where a young lad was coming towards them leading a horse, and as they came nearer, Tilly could see the three bogies full of coal rattling behind the horse.

  It seemed that she had been walking and stumbling for an interminable time when the tunnel widened out into a bay, which in comparison to the tunnel was well lit by the lanterns hanging on nails stuck into two square supporting pillars which were holding up the roof. The rolley line now met up with others coming out of different roads, and on these there were more horses dragging more tubs.

  For a moment she stood transfixed at the sight of a man squatting in the corner doing his business. His moleskin trousers were dangling over his knees and the rest of his body was bare.

  ‘What cheer, Katie!’

  ‘What cheer, Danny!’

  Katie didn’t look towards the squatting man as she answered him but she nevertheless appeared unaffected by his pose.

  ‘This way.’ Katie was tugging again at Tilly’s arm, and now they were going down one of the side roads. It was impossible to imagine they were going any deeper into the mine, but this was made more evident to her when the road on which they were now stumbling along began to go steeply downward. Moreover, it was much narrower than the main one and the roof seemed much lower, for after bumping her head against a spar of wood that was being held in place by two pit props all the sympathy she got from Katie in answer to her exclamation of pain was, ‘You’ll larn.’

  That she was learning was evident when on the sound of a horse’s hooves and the rattle of the waggons she pressed herself into an aperture seemingly scraped out of the wall between the pit props until the horse and bogies had passed.

  She noticed that the leader of the horse was but a small boy, and that the horse was not a horse like those in the first part of the mine, this was a small Galloway pony. She had often wondered why when these ponies were let out in the fields they kicked their heels and seemed to go mad for a while, but now she could tell why. Oh yes, she could tell why.

  When a few minutes later she let out a stifled scream as a rat the size of a small cat ran almost over her feet Katie stopped for a moment and after laughing said quietly, ‘Don’t be feared of them ’cos you’ll have to get used to them. In fact there’s one along here we call Charlie, an’ he’s a cheeky little bugger is Charlie.’

  Tilly gulped in her throat but said nothing, although she thought it was strange how Katie kept swearing down here, yet she hadn’t heard her swear at home . . . Would she become like Katie?

  ‘We’re nearly there . . . Look! watch out for that sump.‘She pulled Tilly to the side of the roadway. ‘It looks just a little puddle but it’ll take you past your knees if you go in. They’ll be filling it in shortly. Never walk on smooth coal dust, take my tip, or you’ll find yourself swimmin’. An’ you just might one of these days, if that doesn’t hold—’ She jerked her thumb towards the low roof. ‘Seam up there’s flooded out and it drips through.’ She raised her lantern and pointed to where water was oozing through a fissure in the roof, then added reassuringly, ‘Don’t worry, it’ll hold the day. And for a good few more I hope.’

  Once again the road opened out and immediately they stepped into a hive of activity. If Tilly hadn’t known different she would have imagined that the small figures darting here and there were a number of children playing, except that their voices were raucous and that most of their words were profane. They looked like imps for only the whites of their eyes and the grey of their open mouths and tongues showed any colour.

  As she stood, her eyes staring, there arose in her a feeling which mounted; amazement mingled with compassion and expressed itself in horror. Then her mouth widened and her chin drooped as she saw come crawling from a side road a small creature. She couldn’t at first make out whether it was a girl or a boy, but it looked no bigger than Master John. It was a boy and he was in harness, but the harness was strapped round his waist and extended between his legs and it wasn’t made of leather but of chain, and the chain was attached to a shallow skip loaded to a point with coal.

  She watched as a man unbuckled the harness and slowly the child rose from his hands and knees and stood swaying for a moment, then rubbed his black knuckle into his eyes as if he were arising from sleep.

  She was unaware that she had been gripping Katie’s arm, and Katie, recognising her feelings, shouted above the hubbub, ‘Oh, he’s older than he looks; that’s Billy Snaith, he’s ten. Hello there, Billy.’

  There was a pause of seconds before the child answered wearily, ‘Hello, Katie.’

  ‘Tired?’

  ‘Aye, I’m jiggered. What’s it like up top?’

  ‘Cold but dry.’

  His reply, if he made any, was lost when a raucous voice shouted above the mêlée, ‘Come on the lot of yous if you want to go! Well, alreet, if you want to stay I don’t mind puttin’ you on another shift.’

  The answer to this was murmurs and growls from the incoming shift. But what was amazing Tilly more than anything was the apparent acceptance of this way of life, and also the humour threading it. Yet there was no sign of humour in the line of straggling children making their way to the outside world.

  ‘That’s the low drift lot.’ Katie nodded towards the departing children. ‘The road in there’s too low for a Galloway to get in.’

  ‘Why don’t they make it bigger?’

  In the enquiry there was a note in Tilly’s voice that could have touched on anger, and Katie laughed as she said, ‘Don’t ask me. I suppose they would if they could; it’s got something to do with the seams.’ She nodded up towards the uneven stone roof. ‘It means cutting through
that an’ some of it won’t be cut through, an’ there are places where it would be dangerous to try ’cos there’s the water to contend with. Look at that pump there.’ She pointed across the space. ‘Goin’ hell for leather all the time twenty-four hours a day. It’s like tryin’ to drain the Tyne. Anyway, we’re lucky we can walk in to our place, an’ believe me I do think meself lucky’ – she was nodding at Tilly now – ‘’cos I was three years on that shift where Billy is, and by! it was a long ’un. The day I was moved to the fourth road’ – she pointed ahead of her – ‘I wouldn’t have called the Queen me aunt. Yet I cried all that first night – relief I think it was.’

  Tilly made no response to this; her mind was in a whirl with the overlying pattern of horror.

  They were in a small group now, people in front and people behind, but there was no talking until they came on a single bogey, one boy pulling in front, a second almost horizontal adding his puny efforts as he pushed at the iron contraption laden with coal. And then someone shouted, ‘Better get a move on, Robbie, else you’ll catch it.’

  The boy in front paused, turned his head slowly and looked at the man; then seeming to draw his shoulders up over his head he moved on again.

  ‘Don’t linger.’ Katie was pulling at Tilly’s arm, impatience in her voice now; then she whispered, ‘If you stopped every time you saw that you wouldn’t last long down here, now I’m tellin’ you so if you mean to work, an’ you’ll have to ’cos you’ve bonded yourself, you’ll have to buck up.’ It was as if her warning was final.

  They now arrived at what Tilly took to be a dead end, for it looked like a long blank wall except that there were men hacking at it. They had hardly reached them when one of the men turned and shouted, ‘You’ve taken your time; we’ll be up to our bloody necks in it if you don’t get crackin’!’