The Miner's Wife

by Diane Allen

  ‘It’s the soil, it’s nowt to do with how good she gardens. Anybody could grow anything in that soil.’ Tom scraped the gravy from his plate with the edge of his knife and licked it off, before pushing his plate to one side.

  ‘Pudding? I’ve made a rice pudding, I’ve just to stir some sugar into it.’ Agnes put her knife and fork down and left her half-eaten dinner in order to serve her husband. She picked up his plate and placed it in the stoneware sink, before opening the range’s oven door to retrieve the golden-skinned rice pudding from the oven.

  ‘Here, Mum, you sit down and finish your dinner. I’ll serve my father.’ Meg drew her chair back and picked up her half-empty plate.

  ‘But you haven’t finished, either, love.’ Agnes turned round and smiled at her daughter.

  ‘I’ve had enough. I might go for a walk, if my father doesn’t want me,’ Meg said. ‘Sit down and enjoy your dinner – I’ll see to the pudding. I’ll put mine to one side. I prefer it when it is cold, especially if it has sultanas and nutmeg in it, like I saw you adding.’ Meg reached for the sugar pot and stirred two good tablespoons into the golden-skinned pudding and smiled as her mother sat back down to finish her meal.

  ‘Give me the skin – it’s the best bit of the pudding,’ her father growled as he watched her fold it to one side.

  ‘You can have it for me. I don’t like it.’ Meg spooned out her father a portion of pudding and placed it in front of him, before taking her mother’s clean plate away and placing a dish of rice pudding in front of her. ‘I’ll put the kettle on to boil, and then I’ll go and get my shawl from my bedroom. As you say, Father, there is a sneaky wind today and it does look a little cloudy.’

  Meg left her mother and father at the dinner table and hurried upstairs. She hated Sunday afternoons, as her mother would knit or sew while her father sat and read the newspaper, or simply sat and said nothing. Usually she would read herself or write letters or, as today, go for a walk, just to get away from the stifling silence, apart from the constant ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. She grabbed her shawl from behind her bedroom door and stopped for a second to look at herself in the mirror. As she did so, she thought of her father’s words and how he demeaned her very existence. She did love her father, but sometimes his words could cut through her like a knife.

  She stopped for a second as she heard a knock on the front door, and her father muttering about callers coming at dinner time on a Sunday. She listened as her mother answered the door.

  ‘Yes, what do you want?’ Meg heard her mother ask.

  Then, as she heard a voice she recognized instantly, she listened harder, with her stomach churning, hoping her father wouldn’t realize who was standing on his doorstep.

  ‘We just wondered, missus, have you any haytime jobs we can help you with? The weather’s on the change, and we can see you’ve two fields full of hay to get into your barn.’ It was Sam, the more confident of the two brothers, who did the asking, as Meg tiptoed to the top of the stairs to listen to the reply.

  ‘Stay there, I’ll ask my husband, but we don’t usually work on a Sunday. And you lads should know that you are probably wasting your time anyway.’ Agnes turned and asked Tom, even though he’d heard the conversation clearly enough himself.

  Tom got up from his seat and looked at the two grinning young men on his doorstep. ‘And what brings you to my doorstep then? By the looks of you both, you are a long way from home. It’s mining that you are both good at. You are not from this dale – that I do know – so bugger off and don’t be bothering me or mine again. I can do without your sort of help.’ He grunted and then closed the porch door in their faces; he’d no time for the likes of them, and besides, it was Sunday and they should know better.

  Meg waited for a second, listening to her mother chastising her father for not making use of both boys, and at Tom raising his voice in anger at being questioned for his reply. Then she raced to her bedroom window and looked out of it. She watched as Sam and Jack decided on their next course of action. Then, resolving that she would take charge, Meg quickly wrote a note, wrapped it around her bedside candle, securing it with one of her hair ribbons, and opened her bedroom window, making both boys look up at her at the sound of the sash window moving. She placed a finger to her lips to tell them to be quiet and then threw her message to them both.

  She watched as Jack ran for the message as it landed inside the garden wall, right in the centre of some white asters. She held her breath as Jack retrieved it and untied the ribbon to read the contents. Both boys scanned it quickly and then glanced up at her, not saying a word, but putting up their thumbs to acknowledge the message that had been written to them.

  ‘Megan, are you still upstairs? Get your arse down here and help your mother wash up. There’s some chancers from over t’ dale hanging about. I’ll not have you wandering just yet,’ her father bellowed up the stairs, as Meg quietly closed her window and watched as Jack and Sam made their way down the farm track.

  ‘Yes, Father, I’ll come down and help Mother. Is that who was knocking on the door?’ Meg tried to sound surprised.

  ‘Aye, good-for-nothings,’ her father ranted.

  ‘Good-for-nothings that would have got your hay in by nightfall,’ Agnes muttered.

  ‘You hold your tongue, woman. I can do it without the likes of them.’ Tom went and sat down next to the empty fireside, got out his pipe and unfolded his paper. ‘It’ll wait until I can do it myself. It’ll not rain today, so you just whisht.’

  Agnes gave a glance to Meg as she picked up the tea towel and started to dry the plates and dishes, both of them saying nothing as they looked out of the window of the kitchen. Meg could make out the forms of Jack and Sam walking over the bridge down in the hamlet of Appersett. She had to get away, if she was to meet them at Hardraw Force, as she had suggested in her scribbled note to them.

  She bided her time and tidied around the sink as her mother finished the washing-up, then went to sit across from her husband and knit. Not a word was said between any of them, and Meg felt her heart racing as she prayed for her father or mother to let her go and do what she wanted, as she looked out into the midsummer day. She went and sat down at the kitchen table and pretended to read her mother’s magazine, watching her father as he folded his newspaper down by his side and then closed his eyes for his Sunday-afternoon nap.

  ‘Mum, Mum, can I go out now?’ Meg whispered, not wanting her father to hear her as she put the magazine away.

  ‘Aye, go on – those two young men will be long gone. They were only after a bit of work, the poor devils. They could have had it and all, if it were up to me. Be back in good time, else your father will only worry,’ Agnes whispered as she watched Meg rush to the door. Her daughter was only young; she should enjoy the summer’s day and not be penned up like a caged animal longing for its freedom.

  Meg ran along the track leading down the front field, her long skirts impeding her way as she opened the gate that led on to the road between Hawes and Garsdale. She caught her breath and looked to her right, at the small hamlet of Appersett. The few houses that were made of local stone and slate looked quiet, as usual on a Sunday, apart from old Mrs Baines sitting outside her house on a bench, knitting and admiring her garden full of cottage flowers.

  She closed the gate behind her and made her way over the narrow bridge that spanned the River Ure, which flowed the full length of Wensleydale, getting larger as it joined the great River Ouse and then flowed to the sea. Usually she would have stood at the top of the bridge and admired the view of the village and the river, but today she had to make her way fast to the waterfall at Hardraw, where hopefully Jack and Sam would be waiting for her.

  Meg felt her heart pounding as she ran along the roadway to Hardraw, ignoring the fields full of summer flowers and the wild dog rose that was flowering abundantly in the hedgerows. She’d no time for nature today; her head was set on reaching the Green Dragon at Hardraw and then following the stream
that ran by its side, up to the most spectacular waterfall in the district – a distance of a good mile and a half, just far enough to feel away from neighbours’ prying eyes. She caught her breath as she walked over the bridge to the Green Dragon Inn and then through the doorway that led to the inn’s bar and stables, ignoring any men who looked at her as they sat and drank their gill.

  The waterfall was well known to locals, and plenty of people were strolling along the river’s bank, admiring the wildness of it and the spectacular falls at the end of the deep, dark gorge, which fell nearly one hundred feet, making it an amazing sight. Meg glanced around her; she recognized nobody, and was thankful that the people strolling on a Sunday afternoon did not know her, as she spotted Jack and Sam sitting on the circular wall of the bandstand, which was halfway to the falls.

  ‘I thought you weren’t going to make it.’ Sam stood up and smiled at Meg as she ran towards them both.

  ‘Aye, your father gave us short shrift. He’s a man of few words, isn’t he?’ Jack stood up and joined his brother.

  Meg stopped in her tracks and caught her breath. ‘I had to wait until he was asleep. He said I’d to stay at home until you good-for-nothings had made yourselves scarce.’ She grinned as she recovered herself and looked at both lads.

  ‘Cheeky bugger, he doesn’t even know us,’ Sam exclaimed. ‘Anyway, you’ve made it now and we can at least have an hour together, so it was worth the trail over.’

  ‘I’m so glad you have. I was hoping I’d see you both again. Even though I’ve had lecture after lecture from both my mother and my father about the ways of you miners, and that I should set my sights higher.’ Meg linked her arms through those of the boys, as they walked up the narrow path that led to the waterfall. ‘I’ll see who I want, and they won’t stop me. Anyway, my mother was grumbling that my father had turned down your offer of help with the hay, as she’d have let you help us. It’s just my father, really; nobody but a wealthy farmer will be good enough for me, in his eyes.’ Meg dropped her arms when the path narrowed and the roar of water could be heard, as they made their way up the tree-lined glen.

  ‘It would serve him right if it rained, the moaning old bugger,’ Sam shouted above the surging river water. ‘It’s been dry for the last weeks, so I’m amazed there’s plenty of water in the beck,’ he went on, as he balanced on the well-trodden track.

  ‘Yes, there is.’ Meg trod carefully between both boys, hanging onto the small sprigs of hazel and sycamore that were growing along the steep sides of the ravine, to keep her balance. Then, as they rounded a corner, the waterfall came into view: a raging torrent of water coming over the lip of the fell above, and splashing down into a deep, dark pool that ebbed and flowed down into the beck that ran through Hardraw.

  ‘God, that’s amazing!’ Jack gasped as they all stood in the glade among the wet, dark boulders at the side of the waterfall. The spray hit their faces, and the summer sun, when it could make its way through the surrounding foliage, shone and sparkled on the gushing water. ‘We’ve plenty of falls up Swaledale, but nothing like this.’

  ‘I knew you two would like it here. Look, if you follow the path around, you can stand right under the waterfall. There’s a small cave behind the fall, and you can stand and look behind it, if the rocks aren’t too slippery.’

  ‘Come on, we’ll hold on to one another and go there.’ Sam reached for Meg’s hand and Jack took the other as they gingerly stepped along the path and under the waterfall. ‘This is so special,’ said Sam, as he laughed and whooped in excitement when they all stood in the middle of the falls.

  ‘Look at the rainbow that the sun is making on the droplets. It’s like magic.’ Meg held her breath and squeezed both brothers’ hands.

  ‘It’s wonderful, and made better by having you with us, Meg.’ Jack looked at her and smiled.

  ‘Ah, you soft old lump. Don’t let him win you over with his words. He’s not half as clever as I am.’ Sam squeezed Meg’s hand harder and glared at his brother.

  ‘Ah, shut up, you are only jealous because you can’t flatter like I do. You’ve not got a romantic bone in your body.’ Jack leaned in front of Meg and pushed his brother softly.

  ‘Now don’t you start falling out over me, you two, and spoil the day. We are just friends for now – and that’s how I like it. I don’t know about you two, but I’m getting quite wet with the spray, and cold. I’m going to walk onto the path and back out of the glade and into the sunshine.’ Meg ran her hand down her skirts, feeling the damp on them, and looked at Sam to move.

  ‘Before we do, give me a kiss, Meg – a magic kiss behind the waterfall.’ Sam grinned and waited, looking at the disbelief on his brother’s face at the cheek of his request.

  Meg hesitated for a moment. ‘I’ll give you both a kiss, because I think the same of both of you.’ She leaned forward and kissed Sam on his cheek, then turned sideways and kissed Jack on his cheek, making him blush. She looked at them both and smiled. ‘There, I don’t think any of us will forget this day, it’s so magical.’ Meg gazed around her at the marvellous colours made by the waterfall, at the moss-filled glade and the beautifully clear water; it truly was a marvellous place.

  ‘I expected a bit more than that,’ Sam said cheekily, bringing her back to her senses.

  Jack glared at his brother: how dare he! He’d been the first to spot Meg at the Christmas dance; he was going to have to state his case in no uncertain manner on the ride home, and make sure Sam knew that he had set his sights on Meg Oversby.

  ‘Well, that’s all you are getting, so move.’ Meg pushed Sam gently and was relieved when he walked carefully back along the ledge and onto the river bank. For a minute she had felt a slight panic when she realized that she was on her own and nobody knew where she was, with two young men she hardly knew. Her parents’ warnings about the brothers were ringing in her ears as she walked back along the path and into the wider glade beyond the waterfall. ‘I’d better not stop much longer. By the time I’ve walked back home it will be at least five, and time for milking. Even though it’s Sunday, the two cows we have won’t wait and don’t know what day it is.’

  ‘Do you do the milking?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Sometimes, but I usually help my father, and I’ve various other jobs to do before evening.’ Meg hesitated for a moment. ‘I’ll be coming to Gunnerside on Thursday, as my mother supplies the shop there with our butter. Can we meet? Or will you both be too busy? I was going to climb up to the mines to find you anyway, even if you hadn’t shown your faces today.’

  ‘I’ll not be able to leave the smelting mill; once it is up and fired, I can’t leave my job.’ Jack’s face dropped a mile.

  ‘Hard luck, brother. I can make it, Meg. They won’t miss me at the pit face for an hour. Where are we to meet? Just up the gill from Gunnerside there’s a huge sycamore tree; it’s the last big tree before you reach the open fell. We both pass it every day on our way to the mine. Do you think you could meet me there, and I’ll bring my bait to eat while we talk?’ Sam waited for an answer and smiled at the look of disappointment on his brother’s face.

  ‘I think I know where you mean, and I’ll manage to find it anyway. Is one o’clock alright? If I’m not there, don’t worry; it’ll be because my father has changed his mind about me joining him. It’ll depend on his mood that day.’ Meg sighed, for it seemed everything was determined by her father’s mood. ‘I’m sorry you’ll not be there, Jack. I hope we can meet again soon.’

  She looked up at the sky; it was beginning to cloud over, and the rain that had threatened all day was on its way, she feared.

  ‘I’m going to have to go, the day’s worsening.’ Meg looked at the two brothers.

  ‘Aye, we will have to get home. It’s a long trek back to Gunnerside, and we will have to take our pit pony back to its stable before it’s missed. But it’s been worth it, just to see you again.’ Sam held out his hand for Meg’s, but she didn’t take it.

  ‘I’m going. I’ll
see you on Thursday, hopefully, Sam. And Jack, you take care of yourself.’ Meg picked up her skirts and ran back down the riverside track as she felt the first raindrops fall. She hadn’t time to look back at the brothers, for she had to get home before she was found missing, and before her father lost his temper over the hay that was about to be ruined.

  ‘Where the hell is she?’ Tom Oversby swore and scowled at his wife. Both of them were soaked to the skin, with rain pouring down their faces, as they tried to salvage as much of their hay as they could.

  ‘It’s no good blaming our Meg. You’ve had all day to get the hay in yourself, and them two lads knocked on the door after dinner – it could have been in dry, and we would be right with the world. Sometimes it doesn’t do to follow your neighbours and abide by the Good Book, especially if you are so stubborn as not to get help; and it doesn’t make sense at all, seeing as you never attend chapel nor church.’ Agnes forked the hay from the laden hay-sled into the square, stone-built barn and looked out on the field, which was still half-full of haycocks getting wetter by the minute.

  ‘If she’d have been here, we’d have had it in on time. Why you let her out of your sight, I don’t know.’ Tom grabbed the horse’s reins and led the horse and the now-empty sled back into the field. ‘I’ll get the hay that’s in the lee of the land; it’s not that wet, but the rest will have to be left. Bloody weather – it could have held off until tomorrow.’ The rain dripped off the crown of Tom’s cap, and his waistcoat and shirt clung to him as he stepped out with a hesitant horse to the bottom of the hay field, where the haystacks were sheltered from the summer storm by a group of trees along the beck’s edge.

  Agnes sighed. It was always Meg’s fault, never his, and yet he was the one who always turned help down from neighbours, and who hadn’t made the most of the good days that the Lord had sent him. Tom was a difficult man to live with, and sometimes she wished herself a different life – somewhere she and Meg were appreciated, and not treated like second-class citizens and cursed at and blamed when things went wrong.