by Diane Allen
‘No, no, I got something in one of my eyes and it’s made it sore. I’m alright now. I think it was some coal dust from when I set the fire first thing.’ Meg put on a brave face and smiled at Harry.
‘As long as you are alright. I can stop around home, if you want me to?’ Harry finished his plate of scrambled eggs and looked at Meg suspiciously. ‘It was grand to hear what your mother and father really thought about that Dan. I think your father realizes now that he’s got a cuckoo in the nest.’
‘Yes, I think Dan’s one for playing everyone along to his tune. Well, he’ll get a shock with my father, as he’ll only put up with Dan’s ways for so long.’ Meg cleared the breakfast plates into the stone sink and poured hot water from the kettle on them to wash them. She stopped as she heard the shop bell ring, drying her hands on her pinny.
‘I’ll be away then, Meg,’ Harry said quickly as she went to serve the customer waiting in the shop. ‘Don’t make me anything to eat this evening. I may be late back.’ He’d taken his chance to tell her this when she hadn’t time to ask him why. Now he reached for his coat, cap and walking stick and made swiftly for the back door.
Meg sighed; it was going to be a long day on her own, and a busy one. But if Harry wasn’t going to be back until late, she could sort out her belongings and see what she would be taking with her, if she eloped with Sam.
‘Jack, what are you doing here?’ Meg gasped, thankful to hear the back door closing behind Harry.
‘I’ve come for some bread for my mother, but I’ve also come to bring you this from our Sam.’ Jack hung his head and passed Meg the note in his hand. ‘I’ve lent him two guineas. He promises he’ll pay me back. I bloody hope so, else I’ll never get to do what I want. As it is, my mother’s going to kill me for lending him it, but he’s better off getting out of this place. He’ll never make anything of himself with this hatred hanging over him in the dale.’ He looked at Meg.
‘Thanks, Jack, I’ll read it later.’ Meg placed the note in her pinny’s pocket and looked at Jack, who seemed crestfallen. ‘He’ll be alright, you know. Sam can look after himself.’ She smiled at Jack.
‘It isn’t him I’m worried about. Sam says he’s taking you with him, or is he just winding me up? At the moment I don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth. If he is, then are you sure you’re doing the right thing? Our Sam is an unknown quantity sometimes. He can be a moody bugger and he likes a drink – your life with him will not be a bed of roses,’ Jack said, with concern in his voice. ‘If he is taking you with him, I’d think twice.’
‘I promised him, Jack. I must admit I keep having doubts, especially when my mother and father were here yesterday. But I think I do love Sam.’ Meg smiled as she wrapped up a loaf of bread for Jack and passed it across the counter to him.
‘“Think” isn’t good enough – not for what Sam’s asking you to do. You have to be deeply in love to leave all behind you and start out on a new life together.’ Jack gazed across the counter at Meg. He knew what it was like to be in love, but he daren’t tell the girl he was looking at how he really felt about her. She’d made it clear that it was Sam she preferred, and now he was going to lose Meg forever.
‘Well then, I’m deeply in love with Sam and we will be happy.’ Meg pushed the bread at Jack and didn’t let on about the nagging doubt she was beginning to feel about her decision, or that she was starting to question if she did love him enough to run away with him. ‘A penny, please.’ She’d never forgotten the evening when Jack had said harsh words about his brother, and she wasn’t prepared to listen to the same thing again.
‘Aye, well, I wish you both luck, if your heads are set. You go home, if Sam’s not right with you.’ Jack threw a penny onto the counter and picked up the loaf of bread. ‘And I’ll always be here, if you need me,’ he added quickly.
Meg reached into her pocket for Sam’s hastily written note. She unfolded the piece of paper and read it quickly, her hands shaking as she took in each scribbled word:
My dearest Meg,
Only another two days and then we will be together forever. Meet me at our usual place on Sunday morning. Travel light, and don’t bring much with you. You can always return for your possessions once we are settled. I’m going to steal one of the ponies used at the mine; we will travel faster if we are on horseback. I love you, my Meg, and you’ll not regret coming away with me when you are made my wife. Until Sunday, my love.
Sam
Meg breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, holding the letter in her hand. Should she go through with her escape to a new life? Was she really deeply in love with Sam, or was it simply that he was the first lad who had shown her any attention and she was besotted by his words and how he looked at her? Her mind raced with thoughts and words that had been said to her over the last few days. Even Jack sounded concerned that his brother was leading her astray. But no, he was just jealous; it hadn’t gone unnoticed by her, the way Jack looked at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. But it was Sam she loved, and she would be leaving with him come Sunday, no matter what.
A chill wind blew along the fellside as Sam signed for a new amount of gunpowder from the supplies hut. He shoved it into his right pocket and turned up his coat collar against the cold as he walked the few last yards to the mine’s entrance.
‘You are late today, Alderson. The day’s nearly over and you are only just beginning to stir,’ the blacksmith yelled at him.
Sam shrugged his shoulders and didn’t reply to his comment.
‘Cat got your tongue? It’s not that that the locals are wanting to cut off you, it’s the other parts that you are just as free with using, from what I hear, and I don’t blame them.’ The scowling blacksmith spat in front of Sam and then went back to making the pump for the new shaft.
Sam trudged into the mine and lit the candle on his hat, then went to where Bob Winn was busy at work.
‘Oh, so you’ve decided to show your face,’ Bob said in the candlelight, stopping for a second from picking at the rock face to turn and look at Sam.
‘Aye, I’m here, but not for long. I’m thinking of buggering off, Bob. I’ve had enough of everybody giving me a hard time over something I didn’t do.’
Sam felt miserable and down, as he didn’t want to leave his mother and his home. As for Meg, well, he was glad he had finally decided not to take her; after all, he seemed to be cursed with bad luck when it came to women. She’d only drag him down, like all the other women had. She’d be over him in a couple of days, and he’d be free to do as he liked. He really never had any intention of Meg leaving with him; he didn’t love her, so what was the point of having her with him? He only wished that he had not strung her along quite so much in the hope of getting his leg over her again.
‘This will be my last day working with you. I’ve had enough.’ Sam drew on his lit pipe, making the embers glow in the darkness of the tunnel.
‘Don’t let the buggers get you down. You’ll be alright, lad. Somebody else will come along that they can pick on.’ Bob slapped his mate on the back and looked at him by the light of their candles.
‘I’ve just had enough, Bob, so I’m off. You can’t change my mind. My bags are packed and I’m leaving home. I’m sick of being talked about, and spat at and slandered, so I’m off.’ He sighed and damped down his pipe with his finger, then picked up his shovel and put his still-glowing pipe into his right pocket, forgetting his usual warning rhyme.
‘Bloody hell – wrong pocket, Sam. Wrong pocket, you fool! Your pipe’s in the wrong pocket!’ Bob yelled, but it was too late, as Sam put his hand into his right pocket, panicking at what he had done and realizing the consequences. His rhyme was of no use to him now, as the smouldering embers of tobacco fell into the small linen bag of powder within his pocket.
There was no time for Sam or Bob to escape. The explosion was huge, with fire, dust and smoke filling the mine, and rubble and stones burying the two bodies – or what was left of them – deep within
the mine’s heart, along with the young boy who turned the windy king. Earth, dust and smoke billowed out of the mouth of the mine, as fellow miners yelled in despair for the workers trapped within. The miners knew that whoever was in there was surely dead, and would probably not be recognizable when brought out into the daylight; that is, if they were ever found. Gunpowder explosions were not unknown to the small mining group, and death and injuries were expected in their hard everyday lives.
The noise of the explosion echoed around the valley, heard clearly even down in the village below, and dark clouds of dust billowed over the valley from the mine shaft. Sam lay dead and battered, his body reclaimed by the mine that he had laboured in all his working life. The rhyme he had said so many times had not saved him this time, being forgotten amid his troubles and thoughts of escaping, and of abandoning Meg.
Meg looked up from the order she was putting together for Mrs Stanley. ‘What on earth was that?’ she exclaimed. ‘I know we can sometimes hear them blasting, and that when they are hushing it makes a noise as the dammed water is released and the soil is being washed away from the land, but never as loud as that.’
‘Nay, that was too loud. I think something might be wrong,’ Mrs Stanley said. ‘Somebody will be the worse for wear, I expect.’
‘Oh, don’t say that! I only hope nobody’s hurt,’ Meg gasped as she completed the order, more than a little worried in case the noise was coming from where Sam was. ‘It could be that they are just excavating the new Sir Francis level. I heard a group of miners talking this morning, when they came in for their baccy and snap.’ Meg smiled at her customer while she took the payment.
‘Aye, that’ll be what it is. No doubt we will know soon enough if owt’s happened. It would be good riddance to some of them, anyway, if there has been an accident. They’ve no morals and no manners,’ Mrs Stanley exclaimed, then put her basket on her arm. ‘That young Alderson lad wants locking up and flogging! What a state that poor lass’s mind was in, and all because of him. And for her to take the baby to its death with her and all, she must have been desperate. I bet her parents are regretting being so hard and all.’
‘Nobody knows for certain that it was his child. It seems to me everyone is quick to judge. I know the family are having it hard, with people persecuting Sam for something he was perhaps not guilty of.’ Meg rebuffed the woman, who was known to speak her mind.
‘It’d be his. He was seen as regular as clockwork, courting her under the bridge. He’s a bad lot.’ Mrs Stanley dipped her head as she left the shop, to acknowledge that she was right in her assumptions. It left Meg biting her tongue and thinking that if only they would get to know her Sam, they would see what he was like and perhaps not be so harsh in their criticism.
Jack stood in the doorway of his home and looked up towards the mine above Gunnerside Gill on the far side of Barney Beck, where he and his brother both worked. He’d heard the almighty explosion and had known instantly that something was wrong.
‘I’m away up to the mine, Mother. I don’t like the sound of what we’ve just heard.’ He grabbed his jerkin and looked at his mother as she came to the doorstep when he closed the garden gate behind him.
‘You think there’s been an accident, don’t you? I pray to God our Sam isn’t in it. Haven’t we had enough hardship this last week or two?’ Betty wiped her hands on her apron and tried to hold back the tears. ‘Go – go on! Take care, mind, as your ribs still aren’t healed. Go and see if your brother is alright.’
Betty stood on her doorstep and watched as Jack crossed the gill and took the steps up towards the well-trodden path that led to the Owd Gang mines. She went back into the kitchen, but couldn’t concentrate on the bread she had decided to make. She couldn’t keep sending Jack for it; he’d be back at work soon enough. She’d had enough of the twitterings of the other women, and of the dark looks given to her as they accused her son of being the bastard that she knew he was not. The only one who had stood by Sam was the young lass behind the counter, and that was because she was sweet on him.
She sat down in her usual chair, then looked at the village through the window. She watched as people started to run up the hillside and shout at one another that there had been an almighty accident on the new Sir Francis level. The Sir Francis level was where Sam worked. She knew it! Jack needn’t come to tell her the news he was about to deliver. When she had reached for the flour from the cupboard, a terrible feeling had come over her, as if a light in the world had gone out and part of her heart had been broken forever. She’d even turned and thought she had heard Sam calling her name, but softly and faintly, as if from some far-off world.
Jack needn’t come and tell her the news he was dreading to say. Betty knew already that her youngest had been taken from her and that she’d never see him again.
19
‘Meg! Meg, are you alright? Speak to me.’ Harry stood beside Meg as she held onto the shop’s counter for support. Her legs had turned to jelly and she felt sick and faint, after Harry had told her the news he’d heard on the way back from Reeth.
‘Yes, I think I’m alright. I just feel faint . . . Oh my Lord, it can’t be true!’ Meg gasped and held out her hand for Harry to lead her into the back room, as he watched her turn white with shock.
‘I didn’t think you were that fond of Sam Alderson, even though he went to the Bartle Fair with you. Or was it Bob Winn you knew? The lad that turned the windy king was from Kisdon and he was nobbut ten, poor little bugger.’ Harry watched as Meg shook and sobbed.
‘It was Sam I knew best. He made me laugh when we all went to the fair, and I can’t believe he’s dead. Oh God, what am I going to do?’ Meg couldn’t control her grief and broke down in front of Harry.
‘Perhaps you knew him better than you are letting on, eh, lass? I’ve heard and seen you stick up for Sam when other folk called him names. I was beginning to think that you’d your eye on him – and now this happens.’ Harry sat down next to Meg. ‘You know he was a wrong ’un. There’ll not be many folk, bar his own family, grieving for him in this village. He’s gone to meet his Maker, like the lass and baby that he washed his hands of. I know you’ll not like me for saying this, but perhaps he’s better off dead, then he can’t ruin your life and all.’ Harry didn’t know what to do with the grief-stricken young lass, who was clearly heartbroken and beside herself over the death of Sam Alderson.
‘He was going to marry me – Sam said so, soon after we met. He loved me, and now he’s dead,’ Meg sobbed, knowing that nothing could be done about her forbidden love, now that Sam had gone.
‘Aye, well, I’ll not speak ill of the dead, but I bet he’s told many a lass that, if what I hear is true. By hell, if I’d have known you were involved with him, I’d have sent you packing back home.’ Harry was torn between sorrow for his grieving lodger and anger that Meg had been seeing Sam behind his back. He sighed and shook his head. ‘There, there. Now stop your crying – that’s not going to bring him back. You’ll just have to grin and bear it. Sometimes life can be a bastard, but in another few weeks somebody else will come along and Sam Alderson will be a distant memory.’ He put his arm around the sobbing girl and breathed in deeply.
Meg lifted her head and looked at Harry. ‘I’ll never forget him. What we had was special. You may have found somebody else in your life, but it’ll never be like that for me,’ she wailed, and ran up the stairs to the sanctuary of her bedroom. There she lay on her bed and cried until she felt sick with grief. The few possessions that she had put to one side for taking with her on their elopement stood, packed and ready, on the varnished oak floor and only added to her misery. They were a reminder of the new life they had planned together. Now there was no need for life, or possessions, or anything, Meg thought, as she lay sobbing on the patchwork counterpane that covered her bed.
It was late evening, and Harry had left Meg alone in her sorrow, not quite knowing what to do, other than be there when she needed him. He’d called up the stairs to of
fer her some supper, but she’d refused point-blank to eat anything and had said she wanted to be alone. Harry lit his pipe and went to bolt the back door, ready for nightfall, when he heard a knock.
Opening the door, he looked at the young man who stood in front of him.
‘What do you want? Shouldn’t you be at home with your mother? She’ll need you, if what I hear is true.’ Harry glared at Jack Alderson, withholding his condolences at the insolence of his late-night caller.
‘I came to see if Meg has heard the news. But I can tell by your attitude towards me that she has. Is she alright?’ Jack’s face was black from the dirt that he had helped to clear from around the pitfall that had entombed Sam and the two other workers. His eyes were red from crying and his spirit was broken, crushed by the death of his brother.
‘Aye, she’s alright – no thanks to the likes of you and your brother. I should offer my condolences to you and your mother, but your brother’s caused that much hurt to folk, I can’t bring myself to do it. Now jigger off, and don’t come here again.’ Harry looked at the lad, who hung his head in remorse.
‘Uncle Harry, let Jack come in, please. I need to speak to him. Just for a minute, and you can stay with us both, if you want to.’ Meg had heard Jack’s voice as she lay in bed and wanted to speak to him, and for Jack to confirm the news. She hoped above hope that somehow Harry had heard wrong, but when she saw the pain in Jack’s eyes, she knew it was true.
‘Lass, are you sure? Haven’t you had enough pain for one day, without bothering with this ’un?’ Harry held the door open and looked first at Meg and then at Jack. ‘You’d better do as she says and come in if she needs to talk to you, because I know nowt and I don’t know how to help her.’ Harry watched as Jack stepped into the back room and looked at Meg. ‘Sit yourself down. I’ll go and make myself scarce while you talk. No funny business, though, you behave yourself.’
