The Miner's Wife

by Diane Allen

  ‘I’m not having any of that, Sam Alderson. I don’t mind kissing, but that’s where it ends. I’m not one of your common mine-lasses,’ she exclaimed, feeling her cheeks go red with shame.

  ‘And who says I go with common mine-lasses? Because they are lying. I only have eyes for you, and always will have. In fact, I’ve got it in my head to marry you, Meg Oversby. I knew from the moment we met that you were the girl for me.’ Sam sat back from her and looked shocked at the suggestion of him going with the mine-lasses who helped clear the rubble from the mine and wash it, to find any remaining ore. They acted and swore more like men, and even though he didn’t find them one bit beguiling, he’d had one or two of them all the same, but now he’d enough of them. They’d been easy game. His sights were now set higher, much higher.

  ‘Now that is codswallop, Sam Alderson. You’ve not known me for more than five minutes. Don’t think you can win me over by coming out with such rubbish. Nearly everyone I’ve spoken to tells me that you are a ladies’ man, and that I’ve to watch you!’ Meg laughed at the face Sam was pulling.

  ‘Aye, that’s because they are jealous. Nobody can kiss as well as me – you should pay me for my services!’ Sam joined Meg in laughter, then leaned across and kissed her again. ‘Now, didn’t you enjoy that?’ He held her close and looked into her eyes. ‘Aye, you are a bonny one, Meg Oversby. I think you’ll break my heart with your big blue eyes, if you don’t learn to love me.’

  ‘I don’t think that will be too hard, Sam Alderson. I’m halfway there already,’ Meg whispered as she lay back in his arms and let him kiss her again, while she pushed his hand away from wandering over her body again. She did enjoy his advances, but no – a kiss was as far as she would go, for now. ‘Now keep your bloody hands to yourself, else I’ll be hitting you where it hurts,’ she said, looking sternly at her overexcited lover.

  12

  ‘Aye, it will be good to see our Meg, I haven’t half missed her.’ Agnes bundled what she thought Meg might need for the coming weeks in the back of the cart, as Tom and Dan filled the rest of the cart with butter and cheese, and some freshly pulled beetroot from Meg’s garden that had been neglected since her departure.

  ‘She’s nobbut been gone a week and, by the sounds of you and what you are loading onto this cart of hers, you’d think she’d gone to the other side of the world,’ Tom growled. ‘I’ve not missed her. Some days she had a right face on her. Besides, Harry will have taken care of her. I bet she’s enjoyed running that shop, it’ll have kept her out of mischief and given her a purpose. That’s what was wrong with her most of the time: too much time on her hands.’

  ‘Nay, she never had that; she was always busy. You’ve just to look at the state of the garden to see where she’s being missed.’ Agnes sighed. ‘Are you coming with us, Dan, or are you staying? It’s up to you.’ She looked down at her nephew as she climbed into the cart. She hoped he would say no, as she needed some time away from him and his lippy ways; he’d never replace Meg, in her eyes.

  ‘I told Uncle Tom I’d stay at home this time. It’ll give you more time with Meg, because you won’t have to hurry home for milking.’ On the quiet, Dan was looking forward to an hour or two on his own and was not wanting to go into Swaledale. Tom had kept him busy since his arrival, and life on an upland farm was not always a bed of roses, especially when he was expected to run here, scurry there, acting almost as the second sheepdog while his uncle cursed him if a sheep escaped from them both. ‘Tell Meg I asked after her.’ He smiled angelically, not really missing her one jot.

  ‘Yes, I will.’ Agnes pulled her skirts around her and looked ahead of her as Tom urged the horse forward.

  ‘So what do you make of Dan, now he’s been with us for a while?’ Agnes asked as the horse and cart started to plod up the winding road past the Buttertubs.

  ‘He’s like his father – all gob! But he’s a good worker, and sometimes I look at him and see a lot of our Anne in him. He could be worse, seeing as he was brought up in Liverpool. He made me laugh when I took him to mend that wall at the fell bottom. He was soon moaning; his hands were too soft for handling the limestone and he doesn’t like bending his back. Another six months and I’ll have made something of him.’ Tom grinned at Agnes.

  ‘You make sure you’ve time for our Meg, when she comes home. I bet she feels pushed out anyway, having to go and live with Harry. I can understand him wanting company, but surely he’d be better off keeping himself busy running the shop on his own. It isn’t that big, after all.’ Agnes was still not happy that her daughter was away from home and she’d noticed that Tom was taking time to teach Dan jobs he would never have taught Meg.

  ‘Well, I don’t know. All I know is that Mary asked for Meg to look after Harry. She always did think a lot of our lass. It’s a shame they never had any family of their own.’ Tom pulled the horse up sharply as they came out of the track between the fells, which opened up to reveal a full-length view of Swaledale.

  ‘I know I was born and bred in Appersett, but I don’t think there is a bonnier view than this anywhere in the world,’ Tom said to his wife as he gazed around him. There was a bluish haze surrounding the fells, and the green fields of the valley were divided by the sparkling River Swale, which meandered its way the whole length of the dale. The fellsides were dotted with whitewashed farm-houses, and limestone walls showed the farms’ boundaries while the skylarks sung and bobbed above their heads.

  ‘Aye, it’s a good ’un. It’s just a pity they are scarring the land up there on the fells in search of lead. You aren’t looking at that.’ Agnes brought him back to reality.

  ‘Those bloody lead-miners! I hope our Meg has kept clear of them, else I’ll bloody kill her.’ Tom flicked the reins over Blossom’s haunches and started the precarious descent down the fellside into Swaledale.

  ‘Harry will be keeping her straight, don’t worry. He promised. It’ll be strange visiting the shop and not seeing Mary behind the counter. She’s always been there, even when she was young. Her mother and father kept it immaculate when she was growing up. Her mother even did all the baking they sold there; she must have been run off her feet, when I think about it.’ Agnes pulled her shawl around her as a sharp breeze blew at her when they dropped into the valley bottom.

  ‘That’s why she asked for our Megan to go and help him. She knew Harry’s not a worker. It doesn’t take much to turn his head, and he’s always been the same. Likes the money, but doesn’t want to work for it,’ Tom said.

  ‘Well, I hope he isn’t asking too much of our lass! She’s over here away from us, with no friends, and I bet he hardly gives her anything to spend, because although he likes his money, he’s tight with it and all. He’ll think she’s getting free board and lodging, so I bet he’s not putting his hand in his pocket. I’ve brought her a few pence anyway, just in case. I thought she might need it,’ Agnes confessed as they made their way nearer to the small but busy village of Gunnerside.

  Tom pulled his horse and cart up outside the shop’s doorway and looked up at the sign over it. ‘Battersby’s for everything that you need’, it read in black writing on a peeling green board. He turned and said to Agnes, ‘I think his sign is a bit out of date. He didn’t have much stock last time we visited,’ as he tied the horse to the similarly green-painted railings that ran around the entrance to the shop.

  ‘That’s only because he’d taken his eye off the business while Mary was ill. Look, there’s plenty of customers at the counter, and I can see our Meg serving them.’ Agnes smiled and picked up the basket full of butter from the cart. ‘You bring the rest of the stuff in. I can’t wait to catch up with our Meg.’ She lifted her skirts and put the basket over her arm, the shop bell tinkling as she entered the crowded store.

  ‘Agnes, aye, it’s grand to see you.’ Harry came down the stepladder he had been balancing on, arranging some jars of jam, and beamed across at Agnes, before shouting to Meg, who was busy serving a customer, that her mother was here
. ‘I know a lass that will be glad to see you.’ He winked at Meg as she served and took payment from her customer before moving on to the next one, who was only in need of a loaf of bread, so was quickly dealt with and was soon making her way out of the shop’s doorway.

  ‘Mum, it’s lovely to see you.’ Meg came out from behind the wooden counter and gave her mum a hug.

  ‘Aye, you’ve not given me many of them in the past. Are you alright?’ Agnes put the heavy basket down and took her hat off as she smiled at her daughter.

  ‘I’m fine. Uncle Harry and me are getting along just grand.’ Meg smiled across at Harry, who had put in more hours at the shop that morning than he had done all the time she had been there.

  ‘I’ll put this butter away and make right with the money I owe you. Go into the back room and make yourself comfortable, Agnes. I take it Tom is coming not far behind you?’ Harry picked up the basket and peered through the window, to see Tom unloading the cart with some of Meg’s things in his arms. ‘I’ll stay in here with Tom and then you two can talk – catch up on things without me listening in. I know how you women like to talk. Us fellas will share a pipe or two, and catch up with the important things in life.’ Harry grinned as Tom came into the shop with one arm full of Meg’s skirts, and in the other a bucket of beetroot.

  ‘Don’t you get them skirts mucky, Tom. Here, give them to me. Meg will be wanting those, if she’s happy staying here longer.’ Agnes grabbed the skirts and other items belonging to Meg from Tom’s hands and then passed them to her daughter. ‘Here, I thought you might be needing these, now you are settled in and staying. I presume you are staying a while longer?’

  ‘Thank you, Mum, of course I am! I’m really enjoying looking after the shop for Uncle Harry, and the people are so friendly. Just give me a minute. I’ll take these up to my room and then I’ll join you in the back room.’ Meg grabbed her belongings and quickly ran upstairs with them, abandoning them on her bed in her haste to talk to her mum.

  ‘So, you are alright? Harry’s being right with you?’ Agnes quizzed as Meg put the kettle on.

  ‘He’s been more than right with me. I’m enjoying every minute. He lets me do what I want, as long as I’m polite with the customers. And I think he’s quite happy with me, as he says we have a few more coming in through the door, now that’s there’s a new face behind the counter.’ Meg sat across from her mum and saw that she looked sad and a bit dejected. ‘How’s things at home? I suppose Dan is still with you both?’

  ‘Oh, him – he’s still with us. He’s not like you, though, our Meg. I mean he’s alright, but he’s got a few funny ways with him, and he knows nowt about the countryside. Your father takes him out with him most days, trying to teach him our ways, but he’ll always be a townie, I think. Although he’s a good hand with the cows, so that’s something, I suppose.’ Agnes looked at her daughter. Life over in Swaledale seemed to be doing her good; there was a sparkle in her eyes, and her cheeks were glowing. ‘Have you had time to make any friends yet?’

  ‘No, not really. By the time I’ve finished in the shop and made supper, it is nearly bedtime. I spend some of the time up in my room, or go for a walk if it is still light, but I can’t honestly say I’ve made any new friends.’ Meg smiled as she poured the tea. After all, she wasn’t lying to her mum. Sam wasn’t a new friend.

  ‘And you are behaving yourself – no flirting with the men of the village? Your father was saying that he hoped you’d behaved yourself when it came to the miners, as they are such a rum breed.’

  ‘No, Mum. I haven’t the time or the inclination. Besides, Uncle Harry would be the first one to tell you, if any young man was calling for me. All we get are folk needing the shop and nothing else,’ Meg exclaimed.

  ‘Well, I had to ask. Your father worries, you know.’ Agnes sipped her tea.

  ‘He needn’t worry, I’m fine. Besides, I’m not a child. I can take care of myself,’ Meg retorted.

  ‘I’ve brought you a bit of money. I thought you might need some. I didn’t know if Harry was supposed to be paying you or not. I don’t think him and your father ever got as far as sorting that out.’ Agnes opened the drawstring bag that was on her wrist and took a few pence out for Meg and passed them to her. ‘I thought that you might need it for something.’

  ‘Thank you. Harry lets me have what I want from the shop, but this will come in useful, as there’s a fair in Reeth next weekend and I thought I might go, if he lets me have the time off. I could do with some new ribbons.’ Meg looked at the pennies in her hand; at least now she had some spending money, albeit just under sixpence, by the look of it.

  ‘That will be the Bartle Fair. I don’t know if you should be going, really. It gets a bit rough, I’ve heard. The miners get drunk and there’s brawling in the streets, and it isn’t a place I’d want you to go to, Meg. It will be full of riff-raff. I’ll have a word with Harry before we leave and tell him I’m not happy for you to go.’ Agnes looked across at her daughter’s now surly face.

  ‘So I can stay here with a man by myself, but I can’t go to the fair, like most young folk of my age. What do you think I’m going to do? Run away with some raggle-taggle gypsy? I’d just walk around on my own and be back by dusk, long before any fighting or drinking can take place.’

  ‘It’s the miners, Megan, not the locals – they are a law unto themselves. They’ll be drunk before noon, and fighting and womanizing. I’ll not have you going near it, do you hear?’ Agnes stood her ground. Meg had no idea how rough the Bartle Fair was; it was notorious for getting out of hand, and many a fight had to be broken up by the local peelers.

  ‘It’s always the miners: they are to blame for everything, aren’t they? Or at least they are in yours and Father’s eyes. They are not so dissimilar to us – they work long hours and try to make the best of what they’ve got, from what I can see.’ Meg stood with her hands on her hips.

  ‘I didn’t come all this way to argue with you, my lass. You will not go to the Bartle Fair. And I’ll give Harry the same instructions, which he will follow, else you can go and get your belongings from your room and come back with us this minute.’ Agnes scowled at her headstrong daughter.

  ‘Oh, I can’t believe you!’ Meg folded her arms and stood looking out of the window down the yard, as she tried to compose herself and not act like a spoilt child. ‘Alright, I’ll not go. I’ll not even ask Uncle Harry for the day off, so you needn’t say anything to him.’ Meg turned and looked at her mum and smiled, trying to ease the tension in the room.

  ‘Good, but I’ll still tell Harry you are not to go.’ Agnes sipped her tea and watched Meg’s thunderous face. ‘I know you all too well, miss, so never forget that. I haven’t brought you up all these years not to know how your mind ticks. You’d only regret it if something unsavoury happened to you, so listen to your old mother for once.’ Agnes kissed Meg on her brow and wiped a tear that was beginning to fall from her cheek. ‘You are my baby, and always will be, and I want to protect you for as long as possible from the hardships of life.’

  ‘I was just looking forward to going, Mum. It was something new,’ Meg sobbed.

  ‘New it might be, but no decent lass would attend on her own. Now, how long do you think Harry will want you for? I need you back well before the middle of November, although in truth I could do with you now, as your garden plot is already starting to look a bit unloved. Dan might be many things in your father’s eyes, but he’s not a gardener.’ Agnes patted her daughter’s arm lovingly and then sat back down.

  ‘I miss my garden. Uncle Harry’s only got a back yard. As for when he will send me home, I don’t know, although he’s not as maudlin over Aunt Mary as he was when I first came here. In fact, he rarely mentions her.’ Meg sat down next to her mum and breathed in. ‘As long as he needs me, I’ll stay. He’s good to work for, and I quite like keeping house for him and serving in the shop.’ Meg realized that if her mum thought she wasn’t needed, she would say she had to return sooner rather
than later.

  ‘Aye, he’ll be alright with you. But you belong in your own home, and he can’t keep you forever.’ Agnes lifted her head as Tom and Harry entered the room and looked at the two women deep in conversation.

  ‘Women’s talk, is it? If we are not wanted, we can always go to the King’s Head for a quick gill.’ Tom winked at Harry.

  ‘No, we’ve said what we had to say.’ Agnes glanced across at Meg. ‘I’ve told this ’un here, Harry, that she’s not to go to the Bartle Fair. It’s not a fit place for her to go on her own. Now, you’ll make sure my wishes are adhered to, won’t you?’ Meg looked hard at Harry and then at Tom, wanting his backing on the matter.

  ‘If you say so, Agnes, but all the young ’uns from roundabout go, and I’d make sure she’d not go on her own. The Bartle Fair’s not as bad as folk make out. But if she’s not to go, she might as well look after the shop, as I was thinking of closing it for the day. There’s never anybody in Gunnerside on fair-day, but we might get the odd customer.’ Harry looked in sympathy at Megan, who quickly wiped a tear from her eye as her father looked sternly at her.

  ‘Aye, Agnes is right. Meg doesn’t want to be mixing with the ruffians that go there – no good will come of it. Now make sure she doesn’t go, Harry, else we can take her back with us right now.’ Tom looked at his friend and watched him wanting to fight the corner for Meg attending the fair and then thinking better of it.

  ‘I promise that I’ll do right by you and listen to your wishes. It is, as you say, nothing special. And everybody does get a bit worse for drink, and then they make fools of themselves. So don’t fret now, she’ll be safe with me.’ Harry slapped his old friend on the back and grinned at Agnes. ‘Now, are you stopping for some dinner or are you away back, to see what young Dan has been up to in your absence? He sounds like a fair case, from what Tom has been telling me. You might go back to find half your house missing, if he takes after his father. I always thought he was a light-fingered bugger. Mary and I always blamed Bob when the candlesticks went missing from Hawes church. Happen it was just coincidence it was the same day that he and your Anne left for Liverpool.’