by Maggie Hope
‘Are you in there, Jonathan Moore?’ a hated voice shouted. ‘Jonathan Moore, do you hear me? I want the bairn, the little lad, you’d best give him up.’
Jonathan flung the boy in and closed the heavy door of the linen cupboard. Thinking fast, he ran down the stairs and drew the bolts of the front door.
Chapter Thirty-Two
‘YOU’RE THE SECOND man to come asking after the lad,’ said Mrs Bates. ‘So I’ll tell you what I told him. He’s gone; he went this morning with the chap who came for the boar.’
Peter stared at her with disappointment. He had been so sure he had at last caught up with Tot. He had asked in every place around Chester-le-Street until one man had suggested he ask the local doctor. ‘The polis won’t be interested,’ the man had said. ‘Lads are always running away and he’s old enough to work, isn’t he? Now if he’s been hurt, well then, the doctor is the man to ask, I’d think. Or mebbe the workhouse.’
So Peter had made his way to Dr Jones’s office and Dr Jones had pointed him in the direction of the farm. He had hired a trap in Chester-le-Street; he was so sure he would find Tot and take him home to his mother. Now he thanked Mr Bates and asked him how much he was owed for the boy’s keep and doctor’s fees and they had come to a sum acceptable to them both. Peter was desperate to get on his way to Haswell and Farmer Dean’s place. And it was Farmer Dean who had told him he had gone with Jonathan Moore.
‘Mr Moore said he would take him home,’ said the farmer. ‘That was all right, wasn’t it?’ He had noticed Peter’s expression and now had doubts himself. He remembered rumours about Moore and some sort of feud with the Teesdale family.
‘You weren’t to know,’ said Peter, but he was already turning the trap around and hadn’t time to say more. A quick check with Jim Robinson at the colliery office had confirmed that the mine owner had taken the boy home with him.
‘What do you want, damn you?’ Jonathan demanded as he opened the door. He was dishevelled; there was a stink about him like vomit and stains on his shirt and trousers. ‘I’m busy, how dare you come here at this time of night. Don’t you pester me enough at the pits?’ He held on to the door with one hand, barring Peter from entering.
‘I want the lad,’ said Peter grimly. ‘And don’t you tell me he’s not here because I know he is. I’ve followed his trail all day.’ He shoved at the door but Jonathan held on tight.
‘What lad? I haven’t got any lad. I’m on my own here, but don’t think I won’t call the man in from the stables to throw you out. The union has no jurisdiction here; this is my private house. Go on, be off with you.’
‘Farmer Dean said you took the lad; said you would deliver him to his mother. Don’t deny it, Jim Robinson backs him up. Now let me in and tell me where he is.’ This time when Peter flung himself at the door it was pulled from Jonathan’s grip and Peter pushed him out of his way as he went in.
‘I’ll report you to the union. The Association of Mine Owners will have something to say about this!’ shouted Jonathan as he stumbled after Peter, who was going from room to room looking for Tot.
‘Why did you take him?’ Peter countered as he searched, not even looking back at Jonathan. ‘Why? Were you getting at the mother through the son?’ He had checked every room downstairs and now he started up the stairs.
‘How dare you go up there! This is my private house!’ howled the mine owner. ‘By God, I’ll get you and when I do I’ll break your bloody neck.’ He had picked up a cricket bat from somewhere and he followed Peter, waving it in the air. But his progress was erratic. He was feeling the effects of the bottle of port he had drunk and the smell of the vomit on his person didn’t help at all.
Peter went from room to room but found nothing, while Jonathan stood at the top of the stairs, in front of the door to the linen cupboard. He gasped for breath for a minute before turning and lifting the bat in the air again, ready to strike. And just then, there was a muffled cry from behind him.
‘What’s that?’ asked Peter, whirling round and facing Jonathan. In a second the two men were fighting over the cricket bat but the drink told on Jonathan and Peter easily disarmed him and shoved him away. Jonathan fell and tumbled down the stairs but Peter hardly noticed, for he was opening the door to the linen cupboard and lifting Tot up and bringing him out. Tot was sobbing and clinging to him and Peter held him tight and sat down on a chair with him.
‘I thought he was going to kill me, Mr Collier,’ Tot said shakily. ‘I’m all right now, though, I am.’ He loosened his grip on Peter and stood up on his own. ‘I’m not really frightened,’ he asserted. ‘Just my head hurts, that’s what it is.’
The two of them didn’t see but Jonathan had picked himself up and was starting up the stairs again with the cricket bat raised once more like a weapon. It was the muffled cry he gave next that alerted them. Tommy had arrived, having followed almost the same trail as Peter but on foot. As he came in the open front door he took in what was happening, came up behind Jonathan and took him in a bear grip around his arms so that the bat fell with a clatter on to the stairs and then down, all the way to the hall floor.
‘I wouldn’t be using that if I was you,’ Tommy observed. ‘I’ve had a hard day, the day, and I’m just in the mood for a fight.’
‘Granda!’ cried Tot.
‘Now then, young shaver,’ said Tommy, his arms still around Jonathan like a steel band. ‘Where the heck have you been? Do you know your mam has been looking all over for you? I reckon you’re in for a bit of bother when you get back to Durham.’ He looked to Peter. ‘Can you find something to tie the gaffer up? I can’t hold him like this till the polis comes, can I?’
‘By, I tell you, I’m that glad of a ride home,’ said Tommy. ‘Me poor old legs is just about worn out.’ He and Peter were sitting on the narrow driving seat of the trap with Tot squeezed between them. Tot leaned heavily against his grandfather, his head supported by Tommy’s arm. He was fast asleep.
At this time of night the road was quiet. Clouds chased each other across the sky, allowing only occasional glimpses of moonlight to show through to illuminate the way ahead and the fields on either side. Now and then they skirted round a colliery with its lighted pit yard and belching smoke emerging from a tall chimney. A pit hooter sounded once and men came streaming from houses and into the pit yard to start the fore shift. But it was the swinging paraffin lamps hanging from the front of the trap, one on either side, which lighted their way in the main.
Peter nodded in agreement. It had been a long day for him too and he was glad to be nearly home. In the distance they could see the shape of the castle with its battlement on the ridge above the Wear and beside it the great mass of the cathedral, all against a sky briefly lit by the moon before it once more hid behind a cloud.
Peter had simply told the policeman that the boy was in danger. The constable was sceptical, though; Jonathan Moore was a figure of some standing in the town. Still, it wasn’t far to go and there was nothing else on. Tommy had stood guard over Jonathan, who alternately uttered threats about how he would haul them up before the magistrates for grievous bodily harm and how the Mine Owners’ Association would back him up.
‘You can do that,’ Tommy agreed. ‘If you are fit to after my marras find out you took a lad like Tot and kept him a prisoner. Any road, we’ll see what the polis has to say.’
In fact, Tommy did not have any faith in the police to back him and a union man up against a mine owner but Peter had insisted they do it legally. ‘It’ll be all over the village and Haswell an’ all by the morn,’ Tommy went on. Jonathan was sitting in a chair with his hands and feet tied. He had given up struggling to free himself.
Tommy heard the clip-clop of hooves in the yard as Peter returned with the trap. It was safe enough now, he reckoned.
‘Now then, gaffer, I’ll untie you now,’ he said and started on the knots in the rope around Jonathan’s legs. ‘I think it will likely be all over the coal field any road,’ he went on, speaking qu
ietly, for Tot had fallen asleep in the big padded armchair and he didn’t want to wake him. He leaned forward and said in Jonathan’s ear, ‘The lads are not going to like it, no indeed. I should think you won’t have a pit working come a couple of days’ time. We look after our own, don’t we like?’
‘Don’t you threaten me,’ warned Jonathan. ‘Who do you think you are?’
‘Well,’ Tommy replied. ‘I’m just a poor coal hewer or I was till you turned me off for nowt. I reckon the lads already know about that. What is it they call it? Perse – perse—’
‘Persecution,’ said Peter, who had come in quietly along with the policeman who happened to be on night-duty at Haswell station.
‘Now then, what’s this all about?’ asked the policeman, taking out his notebook and pencil. ‘I heard something about a lad, the lad I did hear had disappeared. Mr Moore?’
‘It was a mistake, constable,’ said Jonathan, rubbing his wrists. He was raging inside but he was aware that Tommy was right. The men would stand so much but they wouldn’t stand for what he had done this night. Any more unrest in the coalfield could ruin his business, he knew that too, though it went against the grain to admit it. He had been a fool, he ought to have taken the lad home. At least he might have stood a chance with Eliza if he had done so.
‘A mistake? How could that happen then?’
‘I was just seeing to Thomas,’ said Jonathan. ‘I gave him some supper. He wasn’t feeling so well. That was another mistake as you can see, or rather smell. Poor lad was sick all over me.’
‘What does the lad say happened?’ asked the constable of Peter. He was beginning to realise he had been brought out here on a wild goose chase.
‘We won’t wake him if you don’t mind,’ said Tommy. ‘He’s not well, poor lad. I’m sure what the gaffer says is true. He’ll have the rights of it.’
Peter was bewildered. He had been working out in his mind how he would fight the mine owner when he brought a case against them. He knew he was taking a risk bringing in the police but he had thought they had no other choice. Yet here was Tommy evidently having the man eating out of his hand.
‘So long as no one is making a complaint,’ said the constable. ‘I’ll have to mention it to the inspector, though, see what he has to say.’
‘We’ll take you back if you like, constable,’ said Peter. Tot was beginning to stir and he moaned gently. ‘Now we must get the lad home. We’ll meet again, Mr Moore,’ he said over his shoulder as he picked Tot up in his arms and carried him out.
The trap descended slowly down the hill into the city. The cathedral bells rang out one o’clock and Tot stirred in his sleep and sat up. ‘Mam?’ he asked.
‘In a minute, Tot, in a minute,’ said Tommy. ‘You’re home now.’ It was but a few minutes’ drive to the street. Peter stopped the horse outside the front of the house.
‘You take him in, Tommy,’ he said. ‘I’ll take the Galloway round the back. If there’s no room for him in the stable I’ll put him in the yard with some hay. It’s a warm enough night.’
‘Aye, fine,’ Tommy answered; he got down from the trap and Peter handed him the boy into his arms, but Tot insisted on standing on his own feet. The house had been dark but light showed suddenly in the front room. Tommy and Tot went to the door, their two shadows almost the same in the moonlight for Tot was as tall as his bent grandfather.
They did not have to knock for the door was opened at once and Eliza stood there in her nightgown and with a shawl flung over her shoulders.
‘Tot! Oh Tot!’ she cried and stepped out into the street and took hold of him and hugged him to her. In the process her shawl fell off her shoulders and Tommy picked it up from the ground.
‘Here, lass, wrap up or you’ll catch a chill or something,’ he said mildly. ‘Any road, it’s not decent.’
Eliza laughed shakily. She took the shawl and stepped inside the house, drawing her son with her. ‘You bad lad,’ she said, as anger and reaction took hold of her. ‘Why did you run away like that? Do you know you had me half out of my mind? How could you do that to me?’
‘Mam—’ Tot began but was interrupted by Tommy.
‘By, our Eliza, leave the lad alone. He’s been through enough, I reckon. Any road, remember the prodigal son? His father welcomed him back and showered him with gifts, so Jesus said. Behave yourself.’
Eliza struggled to control her feelings. She held on to Tot and took him into the kitchen, for Mary Anne was in the front room and she had had a bad day and Eliza had given her a sleeping draught. She sat Tot on the settle in the inglenook and stirred the fire and put on the kettle, for surely none of them would sleep tonight with the excitement of having Tot home again.
‘Oh, Da,’ she said, ‘I’ll never forget you getting him back for me. I’ll always be indebted to you, I will. I can’t thank you enough.’
‘Nay, lass, it was Peter Collier who found him. I just came in at the tail end, like. And any road, he’s my grandson, isn’t he?’
‘Peter? Where is he?’
‘Oh heck, he’s out the back. He took the pony and trap round. He hired one to bring the lad home. We’d best let him in.’
They slipped the bolt on the back door and lifted the sneck, and as the light from the lamp shone out they saw Peter just bringing a forkful of hay into the corner of the yard where he had tethered the Galloway.
‘Howay in, lad,’ said Tommy with a touch of impatience. ‘What’s taking you so long? I’m ready for my tea and a bite to eat. I expect that smell is something keeping hot in the oven, our Eliza. Hotpot, is it? That’s grand! We could do with some good red meat after this night’s work.’
‘Come in, Peter,’ said Eliza. ‘There is plenty for you too. The pony will be all right there until the morn.’
She was so happy at that moment she could hardly believe her ordeal was over; she had her son back. She kept looking from Tot to Peter and back to Tot as they ate. Tot fell asleep in his chair after only a few bites and Peter lifted him up and he and Eliza went upstairs with him and laid him on his bed. Eliza took off his boots and trousers and pulled a cover over him in his combinations.
‘I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me,’ she whispered across the sleeping boy.
‘I’m only sorry I didn’t find him sooner,’ Peter whispered back. ‘He would have been home anyway without my help but for Jonathan Moore. But he won’t be bothering you again, I shouldn’t think. If he does I will want to know the reason why.’ He hesitated for only a moment before leaning over the narrow bed and kissing her gently on the lips. ‘I love you, Eliza. I realise now that I always will.’
Eliza too leaned over the bed and kissed him back. But they must have disturbed Tot for he rolled over and opened his eyes.
‘I love you too,’ he said and smiled at his mother. ‘I’m not going away again, not ever.’ His eyes closed again and he slept.
Peter and Eliza tiptoed out of the bedroom and went downstairs. Tommy was asleep in his chair by this time, but as they entered the kitchen he woke up and yawned hugely.
‘I’m away to my bed,’ he said and stood up before looking hard at Peter and Eliza. ‘You two behave yourselves, mind, it’s time you were in your beds an’all. Separate ones,’ he added warningly. He had not missed the doting way they were looking at each other and he said so to Mary Anne when she woke in the early morning.
‘Aw, man,’ Mary Anne said comfortably. ‘They’re grown-ups, aren’t they. It’s no business of ours what they get up to.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
‘BY, I’M THAT glad you got the lad back,’ said Bertha fervently. It was seven-thirty the next morning and she had left the dairy work to Charlie’s mother as she had done since she had gone to stay at the farm. ‘My friend is in trouble,’ she had said firmly to her betrothed. ‘I cannot leave her until she finds Tot.’
Charlie had agreed, much to Bertha’s surprise. Already she could see she would have to stand up for herself in this marriage, thoug
h she would not admit such a thing to Eliza. Standing up for herself had shown Charlie in something of a new light. He was not so unreasonable as she had feared he might be.
Eliza sat with her mother and Bertha in the front room, having an early morning cup of tea. She felt so lighthearted it was almost what she imagined being intoxicated must feel like and if it was then there might be something to say for it after all. Even Mary Anne seemed better this morning. She had a little colour in her cheeks and she was breathing easier. Of course this could have had something to do with the fact that Dr Gray had only just left, having called in before starting his rounds on the wards at the Infirmary. While he was there he had examined Mary Anne and prescribed a new routine of care and medication for her. The very fact that a doctor had bothered with her was something new for Mary Anne and she had brightened. He had looked in on Tot before he went.
‘It’s not serious,’ he had pronounced as he felt the bump on the back of his head. ‘He seems to have got over the worst. He’ll need to take it easy for a few days, that’s all. It’s a good job for you, young man, that you were taken in by a good, kind couple. You could have been press-ganged on to a boat bound for China, do you know that?’
‘Could I?’ Tot had asked, an interested gleam in his eyes. ‘Wouldn’t it be grand, going to sea? And as far as China! I would see elephants and maybe even tigers!’
‘Don’t even think of it,’ warned Eliza.
‘I was only saying,’ said Tot. ‘I don’t want to leave you now, Mam.’
‘I should think not,’ the doctor said.
‘I’m afraid Nurse Henderson has changed her mind,’ he told Eliza. ‘After yesterday she thought she could not manage an outside practice, not yet. Not until she has a little more experience.’
Eliza thought of yesterday, when she had taken the nurse on her rounds. She had been so obviously shocked at some of the conditions in the colliery villages around the city, the lack of even clean water in some. Perhaps she was better working in the Infirmary.
