The Miner's Wife

by Diane Allen

  ‘Yes, Father, I’m fine.’ Meg breathed in and looked on as her father climbed up into the cart. She watched as he and the sneaky Dan made their way along the road home, until the cart and its occupants were nearly out of sight.

  She was fine, but her heart was being torn between her parents and her love for Sam, along with that for her new life.

  Sunday morning came and Meg, dressed in her best clothes, looked at her uncle as he glanced at his pocket-watch; she hoped he wasn’t thinking of going to chapel. He wasn’t a religious man, so she had taken advantage of that and had told him she was to attend chapel that morning, to cover her assignation with Sam.

  ‘Ten forty-five, Meg. You’d better get yourself away, if your soul needs saving. Although why you need to go, I don’t know. Singing a load of hymns, and listening to the preacher bleat on about the sins of the world, is enough to put anybody off ever going again. A walk’s far better for you. I find my God on a hillside or down by the river, not under a roof and four brick walls.’ Harry watched as she reached for her bonnet from the peg next to the door.

  ‘I just thought I’d go and pray for the poor lass that drowned herself,’ Meg lied.

  ‘Aye, you do that, lass. Perhaps I should be ashamed of myself for not going. But I’ll go for a walk out and think of her instead. I’ll be back for my supper. Especially now I can smell the bit of brisket you’ve got slow-cooking in the oven. I’m fair looking forward to it. Now get yourself gone, you’ve not left yourself much time. You’ll have to nearly fight for a pew, as it is.’

  Harry sat back and drew on his pipe, watching Meg as she closed the door and ran out of the back yard. He was off to seek solace with Lizzie Bannister, which, in his eyes, was more comforting than any chapel meeting.

  Meg lifted her skirts and held onto her bonnet with the other hand, as a sharp wind blew in off the fells when she walked up the gillside to the tree that was to be her meeting place with Sam. Her stomach churned as she saw him, waiting on the grass bank at the side of the tree, throwing stones into the gill as he waited for her.

  ‘I thought you weren’t going to show.’ Sam looked up at Meg as she caught her breath, before sitting down next to him.

  ‘I had to leave it to the last minute. I told Uncle Harry that I was going to the chapel. I thought that way it could be my excuse every Sunday, and I wouldn’t have to keep making up a different lie. I feel bad enough about it, because he is so good to me.’ Meg untied the ribbons of her bonnet and placed it by her side. ‘Look at the sight of you, with two lovely black eyes. You and Jack are idiots for taking on that boxer.’

  ‘Never mind me, I’ll soon mend. Your Uncle Harry’s not that caring. My mother says he’s not doing right by us miners, by not giving us credit. Not that we need it, but many a poor bugger does, especially with winter coming. There will be some days when there will just not be any work upon these fells, because of the cold.’ Sam leaned back and put his hands above his head on the rough fell grass. ‘Anyway, enough of your Uncle Harry. Come and lie down next to me. We are out of the wind on this fellside and you can look up through the tree’s leaves and watch the sky. They are on the turn now, though – another month and it’ll be bare.’ He pulled on Meg’s arm and urged her to lie next to him on the dry, tufted fell grass.

  ‘I don’t know if I should, especially with all this talk and gossip. It’s been bothering me all week. Ever since I saw you talking to poor Margaret Parrington at the fair and she looked as if she was in tears. I can’t help but think it was more than money that she was after from you.’ Meg’s stomach churned as she broached the subject that had made her feel quite ill, thinking about it all week. ‘And now she and the baby are dead because nobody would stand by her when needed. It wasn’t yours, was it? You should be ashamed of yourself, if it was.’

  Sam sat back up and turned to look at Meg. ‘That baby wasn’t mine. I swear to you, Meg, the child was not mine. I did court Margaret, but so did half the lads in the dale. It’s just that everyone in Gunnerside saw us walking out together. We used to meet at the bridge and then sit on the seat near the cross nearly all last summer, and then she stopped seeing me. Then she went with a lad from near Leyburn – it’ll be his baby, if anybody’s.’ Sam gripped her arm tightly and looked into her blue eyes. ‘Honestly, it’s nowt to do with me. I swear on my father’s grave, if you are thinking that it was.’

  ‘I hear that she’d been a bit of a floozy. The baby could be anybody’s, and if you swear it is not you to blame, then I’ll believe you. I didn’t think you could be so uncaring, anyway, but I wanted to hear it from your own lips. Surely you understand how I feel about it all. And then the villagers are full of gossip, and it is you mining lads that are getting the blame.’ Meg blushed as Sam held her close to him.

  ‘I’d never lie to you, Meg. I know we’ve not known one another that long, but I’ve never felt like this about a lass before.’ Sam smiled and kissed her gently.

  Meg breathed in deeply and whispered, ‘I’ve never been with a lad before I met you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel, but I can’t stop thinking about you, either. I feel sick and my heart pounds whenever I hear your name, let alone when I’m with you, like now. Nothing seems to matter or make sense any more.’ She gazed into Sam’s eyes. She felt dejected by her parents’ treatment of her at home, but with Sam by her side she felt loved again, especially when she lay in his arms. ‘I’ll not listen to a bad word anybody says about you, because they don’t know you and they will just be making it up.’

  ‘That’s what they do about most things over here. Especially come winter, when nobody can go far and they all visit one another’s houses with their knitting sticks, and sit around one another’s fires and gossip. Their tongues clack as much as their needles and sticks, picking everybody’s lives to pieces, without looking at their own.’ Sam sighed. ‘I think our Jack’s right. He has plans to get away from it all and make himself a new life in America. But if he left, that would mean I would have to stay at home, looking after my mother. And I’ve no intention of doing that in a hurry.’

  ‘Why? Your mother seems a good soul, and if it hadn’t been for her, we’d not be seeing one another now.’ Meg lay back in Sam’s arms and they both gazed up at the scurrying clouds above their heads while the skylark’s song trilled to them on the wind.

  ‘Aye, she’s been a good mother, but I want a life of my own – perhaps rent my own farm or at least have a bit of land, marry and have some children to call my own. I don’t want to be tied to my mother’s apron strings all my life, no matter what she thinks.’ Sam turned his head and kissed Meg again as she smiled at him, and hoped she would be the one who would be his wife one day.

  ‘I’m content with my lot at the shop at the moment. I don’t want to go home, especially now, when I’ve to share my home with Dan. He’s nothing but a bloody liar and a worm. I hate him.’ Meg wrinkled up her nose at the thought of her cousin, and her face darkened.

  Sam ran his finger along Meg’s nose and leaned down and kissed her again. ‘You are so cute when your nose wrinkles. Don’t worry about bloody Dan – he’s nothing. He’ll blot his copybook one day. He’s nothing to worry about. Our worry is how we are going to keep on meeting. I daren’t walk out with you and court you officially. Your uncle would send you back as soon as look at me, and it’s best I lie low until folk forget poor Margaret’s death. So we will have to keep to your plan of seeing the good minister on a Sunday. I can give you all the guidance you’ll ever need anyway, so you’ll not be lying, in a way.’ Sam laughed and winked as Meg blushed.

  ‘I think you’ll be leading me astray, Sam Alderson, not showing me the path of righteousness.’ Meg bowed her head and then looked coyly at him.

  ‘Aye, that I might, but you’ll enjoy every minute,’ Sam whispered as he held her tightly and felt her curves underneath her tight dress. ‘I know I will.’

  ‘I’m sure we both will, but God help us if our secret is ever found out. My life would n
ot be worth living for sure, no matter how much I think of you, Sam Alderson.’

  16

  Meg had not been in bed long before she heard shouting and yelling, and all of a sudden the sound of breaking glass. She lit the candle that was next to her and sat up in bed, pulling her shawl around her nightgown, then went to open her bedroom door and walk along the dark corridor to the window, from where she could see straight down to the King’s Head, from which all the noise seemed to be coming. She peered into the darkness, making out the forms of men fighting in the street, their shapes just visible in the dim gaslight of the pub and their voices echoing round the village in anger.

  ‘So, they’ve woken you and all, have they?’ Harry came along the passage and stood behind Meg, watching the affray. ‘Somebody’s getting a belting. It will be the local lads getting their own back on the miners for the death of that lass. It’s been brewing all week. I thought it would have happened earlier than this, so I’m surprised it’s taking place on a quiet Sunday night. Poor old Fred Blackie will be shitting himself. Look at them – they’ve broken a window at least. Did you hear it smash? The bloody idiots! Fighting isn’t going to bring the lass or her bairn back.’

  ‘I hope nobody gets hurt. I can’t bear to watch.’ Meg closed one eye, but couldn’t stop peeking, hoping that Sam and Jack weren’t among the fighters.

  ‘Hey up, the cavalry is here – listen! Old Fred must have sent for the peelers. I can hear them blowing their whistles. That’ll scatter the buggers quick enough, as none of them will want to end up in the clink for the night.’

  Harry and Meg watched as the shadowy figures dispersed quickly at the thought of arrest. The peelers’ arrival scattered the crowds and made them slink away into the night.

  ‘That soon sorted ’em out. I’ll be away to my bed, now it’s gone quiet. I’ll go over and see old Fred first thing and make sure he’s alright. He doesn’t deserve all this upset at his age. He should be putting his feet up and being a man of leisure. But then again, so should I, and I’m just a slave to that shop.’ Harry wandered down the passage with the candlestick in his hand, the light wafting in the draught and making shadows on the plastered walls.

  Meg stared out into the darkness. She smiled at Harry saying he was a slave to the shop. How could he be a slave when he was never there? She was more of a slave than he was – without pay or a penny to her name. Then her thoughts returned to the fighting at the King’s Head, as she made her way back to bed and lay there, thinking of Sam. It wouldn’t be Jack who had got involved, of that she was sure, as his ribs were hurting him too much and he’d hardly ventured out of his home for more than a week. Sam, on the other hand, often went to the King’s Head for a gill, and he was keen on raising his fists to defend himself. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, muttering to herself as she drifted off to sleep, ‘Please don’t let it be Sam mixed up in this. Please let him be safe.’ Tomorrow, no doubt, the gossips would be out in force, and Harry would come back from the King’s Head with some tale or other to tell.

  ‘Well, they made a right good mess over there.’ Harry flung his cap onto the peg next to the back door and looked across at Meg. ‘Poor Fred – all hell broke loose when one of the Blades lads accused one of the Owd Gang miners of cheating at dominoes. Then it only took somebody else to say something about the death of that girl, and that it was one of their lot who was guilty, and the whole place erupted. I don’t think he’s got a chair left that isn’t broken. And the bonny engraved-glass window that he put in when he first came here is smashed. He’s an unhappy man this morning. I’ve told him to pack the place in, as we’ve both got to an age when we don’t need the work any more, and he should have made his money by now.’ Harry sighed.

  ‘Was anybody hurt or arrested?’ Meg asked in concern, thinking of Sam.

  ‘No, but it had been a right carry-on and, as usual, the peelers came too late. They’d all scarpered by the time the peelers showed their faces. Fred said that the Blades lads were accusing Sam Alderson of being the father of Margaret Parrington’s baby, and all his mates were in and decided to defend Sam’s corner. That’s why it all started, seemingly – that and the dominoes. I always knew those Alderson lads were wrong ’uns.’

  ‘Oh, was Sam himself not there then? I didn’t think the Alderson brothers seemed so bad. They are always polite when they come into the shop. Sam always has a smile on his face. Why don’t people pick on somebody else?’ Meg felt her stomach churn, as she thought carefully about what to say in Sam’s defence. It didn’t surprise her that he was getting blamed for not standing by Margaret Parrington; after all, Sam had expected as much. But she wouldn’t have his name blackened in such a way by her uncle.

  ‘Pah – bloody smile! I’d give him a bloody smile if I saw him come through that doorway. You keep away from that lad, else I’ll send you back home to your mother and father. Sam’s a bad lot, always has been. He once came in here when he was a young lad and pinched some barley sugar off the counter. I gave him such a wallop. He’s not to be trusted. He’s a bad lot; goes with many a woman, married or single – he isn’t bothered,’ Harry moaned.

  ‘Well, I take as I find. Anyway, he doesn’t come in that often,’ Meg said as she left Harry on hearing the shop bell ring.

  ‘Aye, well, he’s on borrowed time, if the local lads find him by himself one night,’ Harry shouted through to the shop.

  ‘What did Harry just shout about?’ Mrs Woof, from the neighbouring cottage, put her basket down and wanted to hear the latest gossip. ‘Does he know what’s been going on at the King’s Head? What a mess this morning. Fred’s out with his brush tidying up, and the poor man’s nearly in tears.’ She pulled her grey shawl around her scrawny figure and held her hand to her left ear to hear better.

  ‘He says there’s been a fight between the locals and the miners over dominoes,’ Meg said as she saw to the order that Mrs Woof had thrust towards her over the counter, for her to put together.

  ‘Aye, a right carry-on.’ Harry came into the shop and leaned on the counter and talked to his neighbour. ‘It wasn’t just over dominoes, though. Our local lads took on the miners from the Owd Gang after they accused Sam Alderson of being responsible for not standing by the lass that killed herself with her baby. That’s what it was all about.’ Harry stood up and looked at his neighbour, as she pondered who Sam Alderson was.

  ‘Well, what a to-do. I never did like the look of that lad, and his mother makes so much of her two boys – she’s always bragging about them. They need hounding out of the village. We specially don’t want his sort. Those miners act as if there will be no consequences to their grubby ways, and it’s time they were taught different.’ Mrs Woof folded her arms and shook her head. ‘Wait until I tell Mabel. Her lads will sort the young bugger out – them and their mates.’

  ‘But he may not be responsible, Mrs Woof. It’s only hearsay. Nobody can take the law into their own hands. Perhaps Margaret Parrington was not in a fit state of mind. And her parents had thrown her out, remember.’ Meg tried to keep calm as she handed the gossiping old woman her basket filled with shopping.

  ‘Well, if he’s innocent, then I’m sorry, but perhaps he has to become an example, showing that us good God-fearing folk won’t put up with wanton ways any more. Besides, you know nowt of what goes on over here. You’ve only just come out of Wensleydale, so you can’t say owt.’ Mrs Woof reached for her basket and passed Meg the money she owed. ‘Anybody would think she’s a bit sweet on the lad, Harry – you’d better watch her.’

  ‘We’ll not be having any of that, while she’s under my roof.’ Harry winked at Meg, who looked shocked.

  ‘Aye, well, you are making up for her anyway with Lizzie Bannister. I hear you’ve been seen walking out together in Reeth. Do you not think it’s a bit early yet, with Mary not yet cold in her grave?’ Mrs Woof gave Harry a knowing look.

  ‘Whoever’s been telling you that wants to get their facts right. It’s a pity they haven’t s
omething more important to talk about.’ Harry went to the shop door and opened it for his nosy customer.

  ‘Well, there’s no fool like an old fool, and I should know. Sure didn’t my old man go and leave me for a young slip of a lass, only to come back to me when she’d spent all his money. It was me who was the fool, for having him back. But I love him, so what should I have done? You make sure you are happy in your life, as the graveyard will be wanting us both too soon, I expect, for both our liking. Think of your Mary; she’d want you to be happy, I’m sure. Good morning to you both.’ Mrs Woof sniggered at Harry as he closed the door behind her a tad hastily. The whole village knew what he was up to, but nobody dared say.

  ‘Gossiping old devil. She never can mind her own business,’ Harry growled as he looked across at Meg. ‘I’d better have a word with you in the back. I’ll bolt the shop door and put the “Closed” sign up for ten minutes until I’ve spoken to you.’

  Meg followed Harry into the back of the shop, worried he’d guessed that she was, as Mrs Woof had said, a bit sweet on Sam Alderson.

  ‘It’s just about what gossiping Jenny Woof said.’ Harry looked at Meg as she held her breath and waited to be chastised. ‘It’s true, I have been walking out with Lizzie Bannister, and it is where I go most days when I’m not in the shop. Trouble is, I don’t want your father and mother to find out yet. They’d never forgive me. Mary and your mother have been friends all their lives, and your father – well, your father is a bit judgemental at the best of times.’ Harry paused for breath and couldn’t help but notice a look of relief on Meg’s face. ‘We are just good friends – company for one another. Lizzie’s a widow and she understands what I was going through when Mary was dying.’ He breathed in once more. ‘But you know how it is: folk gossip around here, and read more into it than there is.’