The Miner's Wife

by Diane Allen

  ‘You soft ha’p’orth. You’d better not stay around this afternoon, when Jack and I take on the big bugger from Ireland; that will be in the boxing ring over there.’ Sam nodded to the far side of the village green, where a boxing ring was in the process of being erected. ‘There will be some blood flowing, if Jack and I get our way, because we aim to win that pot of five guineas today, come hell or high water.’

  Meg looked across to a tent and the canvas boxing ring, which had signs all around it announcing: ‘The Giant from Kildare. Keep standing for ten rounds or knock the man out, for five guineas.’

  ‘You can’t take him on – you’ll be killed, both of you,’ she gasped as she saw a huge man, at least six foot six, come out of the tent in a pair of green trunks held up with an orange sash.

  ‘The bigger they come, the harder they fall. Hey, Peggy?’ Jack laughed as the girls on their arms breathed in, looking at the boxer, whose face appeared battered and scarred from many a bout.

  ‘Aye, he hasn’t met up with the Alderson lads yet. He doesn’t know how hungry we are for that pot of money.’ Jack laughed as they walked on through the crowds.

  ‘Meg, look over there! There’s stalls with ribbons and purses on them. And look, next door there’s one with lace and cottons, and see those bonny handkerchiefs on that stall.’ Peggy bounded forward, pulling Jack behind her.

  ‘Now, ladies, if you are about to be buying the fancy things of life that we know you like so much, Jack and I will go and have a quick gill. Catch up with the lads from the Owd Gang; we said we’d meet up and have a gill or two in the Buck or the Black Bull, or whichever one we find them in.’ Sam felt that the time was right to abandon the loves of their lives in search of a bit of refreshment, before the girls sent him and Jack round the bend with their talk of frills and fancies.

  Meg looked at Sam. She didn’t want him to leave her. ‘You won’t be long, will you?’

  ‘No, we’ll meet up with you under the market cross in about an hour, I promise, and then we will have a bite to eat.’ He smiled at Meg.

  ‘Let them be off, for the Lord’s sake. We’ll shop better on our own, and all they’ll want to do is have a drink. They’ll both bloody need one, if they are to take on that big Paddy in the boxing ring.’ Peggy put her arm through Meg’s and walked away from Jack and Sam, intent on looking at all the stalls.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve seen anywhere so busy,’ Meg said as they walked around the edge of the village green, past women in their Sunday best, men in suits and children playing with whips and tops and hula hoops.

  ‘It’s always like this – and those two are always like that. Don’t expect to see them again today, unless you want to pull them out of one of the public houses or from under a barrel of beer on one of those carts over there. Just enjoy yourself. Buy what you want, enjoy the cheek that you get from the fellas full of drink, and then we will wander back home before it gets too rowdy.’ Peggy pushed her way to the front of the stall that sold ribbons and passed Meg a piece of blue ribbon. ‘Here, what do you think of this? It’s blue velvet, isn’t it bonny? It’ll really suit you.’

  ‘Oh, it is bonny! How much is it?’ Meg ran the ribbon through her fingers.

  ‘It’s a penny-ha’penny, but you can buy six lengths of ribbon for sixpence. Get yourself in here next to me.’ Peggy made space next to her so that Meg could get to the stall herself and pick out her own ribbon. ‘See, there’s every colour of the rainbow, and for sixpence you can’t go wrong – you can wear a different colour every day.’

  Peggy held her hand out with six ribbons in it and a silver sixpence in payment, and watched as Meg did the same.

  ‘Let’s look at the next stall. It seems to have some posy-bags and purses. I bought this one there last year, so his stuff lasts.’ Peggy showed Meg her small bag of velvet material and lace, which was gathered together with blue ribbon and which she held on her wrist, containing her handkerchief and her money.

  Meg looked at the blue posy-bag decorated with flowers and frilly lace, and decided that if there was one similar, she’d buy herself one, too. However, she had to watch how much she was spending, as there was dinner to be had yet. The stall’s table was covered with the prettiest collection of purses and bags that Meg had ever seen, and all too soon she spotted a posy-bag that she knew to be just right for her.

  ‘How much is this one?’ She picked up a red-and-green taffeta bag with embroidered roses on it and waited for an answer from the stallholder.

  ‘Ninepence, miss. It’s one of the more expensive ones, seeing as it’s made from silk.’ The stallholder saw a look of disappointment on Meg’s face and knew she was probably not going to buy it.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t want to pay that much for it really.’ Meg sighed and then looked up as a young man shouted to the stallholder, ‘Sell it to her for sixpence and I’ll give you the rest – that is, if she’ll give me a kiss in return.’ The blond-haired man with an elegant moustache smiled down at Meg as she blushed in embarrassment. Peggy giggled and dug her in the ribs, urging Meg to take on the challenge.

  ‘Go on, it’s only a kiss – and then you’ll get your bag,’ she whispered into Meg’s ear. ‘Besides, he’s ever so handsome. I’ll not tell Sam, so there will be no harm done.’

  ‘No, no, I can’t.’ Meg hung her head and then looked again at the bag she coveted so much.

  ‘Go on, and then we will leg it, once you’ve kissed him,’ Peggy whispered as she looked at Meg, still holding the bag, undecided.

  ‘Just a kiss!’ Meg looked up at her handsome benefactor and smiled.

  ‘Just a kiss! That would be enough, from your sweet, innocent lips.’ The blond man grinned down at her.

  Meg gave the stallholder her sixpence and watched as her suitor gave him the remaining threepence, as she hung her new posy-bag on her arm.

  ‘Come on, leg it – you needn’t even kiss him, if you are quick about it.’ Peggy pulled on Meg’s arm.

  ‘Nay, not so quick, my bonny lass. A deal is a deal.’ The blond-haired man, who was a little worse for drink, grabbed hold of Meg’s waist and held her tightly. ‘Now, my payment, if you please.’ He bent his head down and nearly lifted Meg off her feet as he forced a passionate kiss on her.

  Meg wriggled out of his grasp and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then looked at him in fear. His breath stank of ale and his moustache prickled her delicate skin.

  ‘Nay, lass, come back to me. I haven’t finished yet.’ He lurched forward and pulled Meg tightly to him again, only to let go of her suddenly, as Jack pushed his way through the crowd, coming to a halt in front of the man, with a thunderous look upon his face.

  ‘Let her go, Ben Armistead – she’s our Sam’s girl. He’ll bloody well thrash you if he knows you’ve been taking advantage of her.’

  ‘Nay, the boot’s on the other foot. We had a deal: a kiss for threepence. Ask her who partly paid for that fancy bag of hers, when she could have had any ordinary one and no advances from me.’ Ben stood still. ‘But if it’s a fight you are after, I can soon arrange that.’ He spat on his hands and started to roll up his sleeves.

  ‘Jack, he’s right – we did have a deal. I was a fool. I wish I’d never agreed to it, for the sake of this stupid bag on my arm. Leave him be. He’s had his fun, and now I’ve paid him. Let’s be off,’ Meg pleaded, feeling like a stupid fool and realizing how much trouble her innocent kiss had got her into. But at the same time she was relieved that Jack had come to her aid. Peggy looked on, saying nothing, knowing that if she hadn’t encouraged Meg, none of it would have happened.

  ‘It’s a good job I’m not Sam, or you’d have been flat out on that floor by now.’ Jack swore at Ben. ‘Come on, you two, follow me and try to keep out of trouble.’ He pushed his way through the crowds, with Meg and Peggy following him.

  ‘I’ve never had a man fight over me – that could have been exciting,’ Peggy whispered to Meg as they tried to put some distance between themselves and Ben Armi
stead.

  ‘Believe me, I don’t think I’d call it exciting. I’m just glad Jack came to my rescue,’ Meg turned round and said to the romanticizing Peggy.

  ‘Aye, well, now you know what can happen if you don’t keep your wits about you. It’s a good job I spotted him and knew that’s how he picks up a lass every fair-day,’ Jack said as they reached the market cross and sat down on the steps below it.

  ‘He was handsome, though,’ Peggy tittered.

  ‘And I’m not, Peggy Dobson? Just you mind, else you might have to make yourself known to Ben Armistead.’ Jack looked at Meg, who was staring across the green, out towards the distant fells.

  ‘It’s lovely here – look at the view. You can see for miles. I’ve never been to Reeth before,’ Meg exclaimed as she looked along the length of Swaledale.

  ‘Aye, it is a bonny part of the world.’ Jack stood next to her and gazed at the view with her.

  ‘It isn’t in winter. It’s blinking starvation; the north wind cuts right along this village, and you wouldn’t be standing here for long if it were January,’ Peggy added, watching Meg as she looked down towards the bottom of the green, where she had spotted Sam.

  ‘Who’s that with Sam? She’s carrying a baby in her arms.’ Meg turned and looked at Jack.

  ‘I don’t know. It could be anybody.’ Jack put his head down and went quiet.

  ‘I know who she is. It’s Margaret Parrington. She must just have had that baby, by the look of it, but I’ve not heard of her getting wed. Wasn’t she courting your Sam for a while, a bit back?’ Peggy squinted at the couple and then, realizing what she had said, tried to deny any connection between the two events. ‘He wasn’t serious about her, though. She must have gone on and found another fella.’

  Meg watched as Margaret Parrington, clutching the baby in one hand, pulled on Sam’s jacket when he tried to leave her grip. She said nothing as she watched the poor woman begging for some sympathy from her ex-lover, as he made his way towards them.

  ‘Was that Margaret Parrington we saw you with, and has she had a baby?’ Peggy asked tactlessly, as Sam joined them, looking flustered.

  ‘It was. She was pissed on gin and the baby was wailing. She was begging for money, as her father and mother have disowned her,’ Sam growled.

  ‘She was such a bonny lass when you were with her last year. She must have got herself in bother and fallen on hard times,’ Peggy said as she watched the poor woman and child wandering through the crowds, begging.

  Meg looked at Sam and then at Jack. Jack’s face said it all, for he was not as hard as his brother.

  ‘Aye, well, she’s nowt to do with me now. And you’d do well to mind your own business,’ Sam snapped. ‘Let’s be away, Jack, for a proper gill or two. I’m in need of one before the fight.’ He slapped his brother on the back and said nothing to Meg.

  ‘I think I’ll just have a look at the pot stall and then go home. I’ve seen what I want to see,’ Meg said quietly.

  ‘I’ll come with you. We can both get a portion of hot black peas and eat them next to the beck on our way home. It’ll only get more rowdy as the day goes on, and I’ve seen enough. Besides, I don’t want to see these two getting thumped to a pulp in the boxing ring,’ Peggy said, linking her arm through Meg’s.

  ‘Will you be alright? I’ll see you Monday night at our usual place?’ Sam said quietly to Meg.

  ‘Yes, you take care – both of you, that is. Don’t get your blocks knocked off.’ Meg smiled at both brothers as they walked away, leaving her and Peggy to wander home on their own.

  ‘You know, Sam is a grand lad, but Jack is the nicer of the two,’ Peggy confessed as she linked arms with Meg and they both viewed the many cups, plates and other items of china on the pot stall. ‘Sam can be a bit dark in his moods and is sometimes a bit cocky, whereas Jack is quiet and will always be loyal to those he loves.’ She picked up a set of Staffordshire pottery dogs, looked at the faces painted on them and smiled. ‘And they’ve both got as much brain between them as these two ornaments.’

  Meg smiled. ‘They won’t have that much, once the boxer finishes with them later in the day. Especially if they have been drinking all afternoon.’

  ‘What I’m trying to tell you is: don’t give your heart to Sam Alderson. He’s a charmer and he knows it.’ Peggy put the pot dog down and reached out and squeezed Meg’s hand.

  ‘I know, although I do think a great deal of him. But I’m not stupid. Do you think that baby is his, and that he will not have anything to do with it or the mother?’ Meg thought back to the poor woman, nearly begging on her knees to Sam.

  ‘I don’t know. But don’t let him take advantage of you in the same way.’ Peggy smiled. ‘Sam’s a devil when it comes to knowing how to charm a woman into his way of thinking. Never mind, let’s go and get something to eat and then we will away home and leave the idiots to it. I’m spent up anyway, and I’ve got to be back at Scar House by eight, else I’ll be for it.’

  ‘I am nearly spent up, too, and I’ll be glad to be back home in Gunnerside, in truth.’ Meg smiled to herself as she called Gunnerside her home. After all, it wasn’t her true home, but it was beginning to feel like it more and more.

  Jack swayed forward, unsteady on his feet after the pummelling he had received in the boxing ring and the amount of beer that he and Sam had drunk. ‘I’m away, our lad, I’ve had enough. Are you coming with me?’

  ‘I’ll just have another and then I’ll be with you.’ Sam looked up, both eyes swollen, as he sat and realized he had spent nearly every last penny and had nothing to show for it but bruises and a bad head.

  ‘You want to get your arse back with me. We are back at work on Monday, and Mother will not sleep until you are home.’ Jack winced, feeling his ribs hurting as he made for the pub’s doorway.

  ‘Well, you’ll not be going, the state you are in, so stop bloody lecturing,’ Sam growled and summoned the weary barman for another gill.

  ‘Well, mind what you are doing when you go home – you don’t know who’s out on these roads at this time of night.’ Jack didn’t feel like arguing; he was in pain and needed his bed.

  ‘Get yourself bloody gone. I’ll not be far behind you.’ Sam watched as his brother closed the door behind him and stumbled into the night. He should have gone back home with Jack, but he needed to drown his sorrows. Losing his money was the least of his problems. Margaret Parrington was going to name him as the father of her child, when she looked to the parish for relief, and he could well do without that. The gossips would soon get to hear, and that would put a stop to his courting of Meg Oversby.

  ‘That’s the last gill you’ll get tonight,’ the bleary-eyed barman said as he placed the tankard in front of Sam and blew out the candles on the bar, leaving him nearly in the dark.

  ‘I’m bloody well going anyway.’ Sam stood up and swigged back as much as he could from the pewter tankard, then threw what change he had onto the table before making tracks home in the darkness of the night.

  Margaret Parrington and her baby hid in the shadows on the pathway near the small bridge at Gunnerside Gill. She’d waited there, knowing that Sam would have to pass it on his way back from the fair at Reeth. However, when Jack passed her on his own, she was about to leave and find shelter in a nearby barn, when Sam appeared, stumbling and swearing as he wandered down the road home.

  ‘I thought I’d catch you here, and I also knew you’d be the last one home from the fair.’ Margaret held her baby to her and latched it onto her breast to stop it from crying, as she tied her shawl tightly around them both.

  ‘What do you bloody well want of me now? Isn’t it enough that you are going to slander me throughout the dale, because of the brat that’s at your breast?’ Sam stood next to Margaret and looked down at the baby suckling.

  ‘I wouldn’t have to, if you had married me. I love you, Sam, you know I do. Let’s walk down to the big bridge one more time, and then perhaps you’ll remember how you used to love me
and will come to your senses over this baby, which you know is yours.’ Margaret pulled on his arm and led Sam like a drunken donkey, as he argued and cursed at her, stopping at the archway of the bridge that straddled the Swale.

  ‘I’m not going a bloody step further, you stupid bitch. I never loved you. You were just another girl that I’d had my way with, and one I could easily forget.’ Sam lashed out at Margaret and hit her across the face. ‘Now leave me be and do what you must. I don’t care, because I’ll bugger off and you won’t be able to find me. Go to hell – and your baby with you,’ he shouted as he turned and stumbled homewards up the road, leaving Margaret in tears and heartbroken, clutching her baby. It was Sam Alderson’s baby and he knew it; she’d not slept with any other man than Sam. She looked down at the child lying contentedly asleep and felt her cheek, where Sam had hit her. She had nothing to live for. Nobody loved her and nobody cared.

  14

  ‘Just look at the state of you two! Whatever possessed you to take him on?’ Betty Alderson chastised both her sons as they sat at the kitchen table, battered and bruised.

  ‘Don’t moan, Mother, we are in no fit state to be lectured.’ Sam hugged his cup of warm tea and glanced across at his brother, who was not well enough to go to work, with two of his ribs cracked and bandaged. He himself was sporting two black eyes, along with a thumping headache, brought on mainly by the amount of alcohol he had consumed when they were enjoying themselves at the fair.

  ‘I thought, at the age you both are, you’d have more sense by now. But no, you are still as daft as brushes and not as useful, either.’ Betty stood with her hands on her hips and glared at both of them. ‘You’d better tell the boss man, Sam, that Jack will not be fit to work this week. What we will do for brass, I don’t know. I presume you are going to work, once you’ve got yourself sorted?’

  Betty looked as Sam picked up his jacket and put it on, then pulled his cap down over his eyes. She’d lectured them both all day Sunday, after hearing them roll home the worse for wear. And now Jack was definitely not fit for work, and Sam didn’t sound as if he’d be worth much as a worker for the Owd Gang, this wet Monday morning.