Stranger At The Door, Day 41

While Sarah and Mary Ellen talked, Pate was having a quiet conversation with Daniel. “I canna sleep, Daniel, for I’ve ta’en to hearin’ noises in the night, when the place is quiet.” Keeping his voice down, Pate leaned forward. “It’s a sort o’ rumblin’ noise. Doesna last long. Some nights there’s nothin’ at a’. At first, I thocht it was thunder.” His voice petered out and he stared into the fire.

“They say that there are some auld workin’s runnin’ ablow the Raws,” he added with a wary glance in Mary Ellen’s direction.

“I’ll try to get a look at some of the old drawings in the pit office and I’ll mention this to Miss Bunty. I have to see her about my job, now that Rushforth’s got his marching orders,” Daniel told Pate, before the conversation veered to the tale of his search for work, and how he had left the workers’ train on an impulse and had spent two miserable days tramping round the countryside looking for casual work and sleeping in a barn at night.

There was no mention of the Gowan Bank and of his meeting with Sarah at their special place. That was something which belonged to them, which was so precious that it couldn’t be shared, not even with Mary Ellen and Pate.

Suddenly, as there was a pause in the conversation, Mary Ellen glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece.

“Guidsakes. Is that the time? Ye must be tired, the two o’ ye, wi’ a’ that’s passed the day. An’ I’m sure ye’ve a lot to discuss in private,” she said, sounding suddenly formal. “Away hame an’ get some rest. The morra’s a new day. Time enough then for the talkin’.”

As she ushered them out, Pate reminded her of the letter that had arrived days before.

“It came the day afore Sarah here got back fae Edinburgh and Daniel was away on his travels. You pit it in the big press for safe keepin’.”

“Beside Tricky’s melodeon?” Daniel laughed, seeing the stricken look on Sarah’s face.

“It’ll be from the School Board,” she whispered to him.

After they’d left, the official-looking letter tucked into Daniel’s pocket, Pate glanced in puzzlement at his wife.

“That wisna like you at a’, Mary Ellen,” he said, settling down to fill his pipe. “You got rid o’ the young anes gey quick there.”

Mary Ellen settled back in her chair with a sigh.

“Bein’ sensitive’s no’ your strong point, Pate Walker.” She shook her head and smiled at him. “I heard Daniel tellin’ you that he was goin’ after Miss Bunty t’get his job back, and at the same time, Sarah was makin’ plans for a flittin’ out o’ a pit hoose and up to Jess and Sandy’s place. They havena had time to talk aboot a’ this, an’ when they do, they’ll have to do it in private, no’ in front o’ us.”

The Wee School

Standing in the middle of the kitchen, still wearing her coat, Sarah took the envelope from Daniel and tore it open. As she read the letter from the School Board, she began to smile. The smile remained and when at last she handed the missive to her husband, her eyes were shining.

“Mr Leadbetter was pleased, Daniel. He was satisfied with my explanation about the older children coming to the Wee School.”

Daniel had begun reading.

“This is better than anything you hoped for, Sarah,” he said. “The School Board’s even offered to let you have a pupil teacher for the little ones, if somebody suitable can be found.” He looked at his wife, his expression one of astonishment. “They’ve even mentioned payment for your services.”

For a moment, the two of them basked in the glow of good news. As Daniel hugged her and the letter fluttered to the floor, Sarah felt almost faint with a mixture of relief and sheer pleasure.

“Our luck’s turned, Sarah, love,” Daniel said at last. “Now all I need is for Miss Bunty to give me my job back, and we can stay here in our wee house.” Sarah suddenly pulled away from him.

“No, Daniel. My father’s offers, the money we’ve been given for our future, the letter from the School Board – all of it coming together like this is a sign. A sign that we can move on.” She pulled away from him and when she spoke her voice was firm with conviction.

“I want to take up Jess and Sandy’s offer, Daniel. I can still see to the Wee School, build it up and make it strong. You can move away from the dark and danger at the coal face and start your studies in whatever way seems best. And if you have to go back and forth to Edinburgh, I’ll have Jess’s companionship.”

Daniel’s gaze locked into hers and there was a long silence.

“We’ll be free, Daniel. Free to make our own choices. But we’ll still be part of Langrigg.”

He drew her close to him.

“You have the right to decide, Sarah. Who knows what the future has in store, but we have to take the first step together.

“And now...” he held her away from him, laughing, “if you’re staying, you might be as well to take off your coat.”

Warrior Queen

Tricky, with a furtive glance to left and right, left the stables and made his way round the outside of the house to the front door. Mrs Goudie was in such a black mood these days that it was no longer safe to go in by the kitchen door.

The front door was unlocked. Giles was sitting on the stairs, a rail timetable in his hand.

“I’ve been given notice by dear Bunty. Or should I say the Warrior Queen.” He sighed. “It’s back to Edinburgh for me in the morning, I fear. She’s had a letter. The colonel and his lady wife are on their way back from their travels, it seems, and I’ve to disappear before they arrive.”

He wrinkled his nose.

“Take off your boots and leave them out on the step, there’s a good fellow,” he told Tricky. “There’s a distinct smell of stables wafting around.” Tricky began to unlace his boots.

“Mr Goudie gave me your message, Mr Giles. He wasna’ best pleased, an’ made me feenish the muckin’ oot first.”

Giles got up. He looked dishevelled, his trousers soaked to the knees, his cravat adrift. “Bunty made me walk the dogs,” he said mournfully.

There was a scrabbling sound from behind the drawing-room door. “I’ve shut them in the drawingroom,” Giles told Tricky. “Mrs Goudie refused to let them through the kitchen. Something about her clean floor.”

Both of them jumped as there was a sudden sound of crashing pots from the kitchen. It was Tricky’s turn to sigh. “Aye, she’s in one o’ her black moods,” he said. “Library?” Giles suggested.

Tricky nodded gloomily.

“There’s no fire lit in there, but it would seem to be the only safe place in the house. Bunty’s upstairs doing her accounts again so we won’t be disturbed.”

More tomorrow.

This story was originally written specially for The People’s Friend, which published it under the title The Life We Choose. There’s more fiction in The People’s Friend every week, available from newsagents and supermarkets at £1.30.

For a moment, the two of them basked in the glow of good news

Artwork: Andrew Lloyd Jones