Sarah and Daniel exchanged glances across the sea of merriment and slipped away

Down at Langrigg, the pit had been cleared, made safe again, the engine shed brought to life and the winding gear tested. But the wagons that ran on a single-gauge track to carry coal down to the Junction were piled high with snow as they awaited their burden. Work would start again, the miners were told, on the second day of the New Year. Christmas over, Hogmanay in prospect, Langrigg all but disappeared under a thick blanket of snow, a fresh fall each night adding to its white perfection.

The children shrieked in delight as they sledged on dustbin lids and tin trays, had snowball fights, built snowmen. Fires were piled with extra coal, lamps were lit early and the festive dumplings were made in the wash-house with some difficulty and much grumbling about the cold.

Sarah stayed at home, made meals for Jess and Sandy and hoped that Mary Ellen’s services would not be required until the first signs of spring.

On Hogmanay, Ella and Dreels were married in the Wee School, the church being snowbound but the road from the manse being clear.

The bride wore her best dress with a new lace collar. Isaac Makin was Dreels’s best man, and Jeanie Makin Ella’s maid of honour.

Wedding party

Ella’s father stayed at home because of the snow, but a few of their friends made up the rest of the wedding party.

The ceremony was short, the minister’s expression brightening at the aroma from the oven of the big range. With a flourish, Mary Ellen served a steak-pie dinner on a table decorated with white favours and a cake specially iced for the occasion.

There was a small sherry for the bride and a dram for the bridegroom. The Makins chose ginger wine.

The newlyweds then repaired to Ella’s house, where her father enjoyed a piece of the wedding cake and a small refreshment to mark the occasion, complaining that he hadn’t had his dinner and that they might have saved him a bit of steak pie.

There was a lull, then, before darkness fell, the lamps were lit and Langrigg’s Hogmanay celebrations began, spreading from house to house, from Raw to Raw.

Children were allowed to stay up late, dumpling was consumed and crowds gathered in houses known for their hospitality.

Songs were sung, accordions, whistles and even spoons accompanied the singing and dancing, where room could be made for it.

In Mary Ellen’s there was a plentiness of black bun, shortbread and ginger and elderflower wine, but no strong drink was allowed.

Tricky was still a hero, so Mary Ellen brought him his melodeon from the big press on condition that he would only play and sing one song.

The company were then treated to a rendition of Granny’s Heilan’ Hame and the best they could do was to join in and drown out his singing.

Sarah and Daniel had been tempted to stay in the cosiness of their new home, but felt obliged to visit Mary Ellen and Pate on the last day of what had been a whirlwind of a year.

Carrying a basket of New Year treats for Mary Ellen and a special cake for Rachel to share with her brothers and sisters, Sarah and Daniel made their way down to a Langrigg already ablaze with lights, keeping to the cart tracks where they could.

Jeanie and Isaac Makin were sitting, contented, by a blazing fire, their children safely tucked up in bed.

“We dinna keep the New Year,” Jeanie explained. “There’s enough company here for us.”

She nodded towards the bedroom where the children were safely tucked up in bed.

“Aye.” Isaac nodded, and allowed himself a smile.

Treats

Sarah explained that the basket of treats was a token of appreciation for Rachel’s help at the Wee School. There was talk then of her cleverness, her ambitions.

“I’ll give her extra lessons and when she grows out of the Wee School, Miss Bunty has promised to help,” she reassured the Makins.

For a while, they plunged into the merrymaking at Mary Ellen and Pate’s house. As they came in, they found Tricky behind the front door, searching vainly for his melodeon.

“I had it a meenit ago, an’ there’s no’ a sign o’ it onywhere,” he complained.

The kitchen was packed and the company were enjoying a rendition of The Sunshine Of Your Smile by Dreels, the bridegroom, who had never been heard to sing before. His bride had retreated to the scullery in embarrassment.

“I hope he’s no’ gonnae make a habit o’ it,” Ella said to Sarah.

After a while, Sarah and Daniel exchanged glances across the sea of merriment and slipped away, pausing only to assure Mary Ellen that they’d be back the next day when things were quieter.

“Aye, the place for you tae see in the bells is your ain wee hoose.” She smiled.

“This year in particular,” she added, seeing them out of the back door while the scullery was empty for just a few moments.

The moon had risen in a sky that seemed almost as clear as day and made snow billows glitter in its light.

Sarah and Daniel made their journey home hand in hand, turning now and then to look at the dark sprawl of Langrigg, studded with jewels of lamplight, the winding gear of the pit etched black against the sky and standing sentry over the village.

Welcoming

As they breasted the last incline, standing at last outside their little home, they smiled at the welcoming sight of the lamp they’d left to spill its light out over the snow.

Hand in hand, they turned again to look out over the shimmering landscape.

As they did, the sound began in the distance, first bells from distant churches, joined by the deeper tones of pit hooters, all mingling and travelling miles across a moonlit landscape to signal the start of the New Year.

Smiling, Daniel took Sarah in his arms and kissed her.

“It’s all before us, love,” he said. “And who knows where the road will take us.”

Sarah turned away from the landscape that stretched away in glittering perfection to a hidden horizon.

“We’ll take that road together. That’s all that matters,” she murmured, taking Daniel’s hand, smiling up at him and leading him to the door.

The End.

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.

Our new serial, Glens of Stone, by Roy Stewart, begins tomorrow. Set in Edinburgh during the tensions before the Jacobite Rebellion of 1745, this is a story of love, faith, deception and subterfuge, with the lives of three young women from different pasts coming together seemingly as coincidence. As the Young Pretender marches ever closer to Edinburgh, the lives of these women will change forever. Little do they know, it’s been a long time coming.

Artwork: Andrew Lloyd Jones