Stranger At The Door, Day 45

Sarah’s inquiring glance was met with a despairing shake of Daniel’s head. “No news.”

Sarah took Jeanie’s trembling hand. “I’ll stay with you, “she said. Together, they plunged into the rushing throng.

The pit gates had been closed. Inside, close to the pithead, lights flared, illuminating dark shapes that moved purposefully into groups, one figure with an outstretched arm shouting instructions. With a start, Sarah realised that it was Daniel’s voice.

A strange silence had fallen on the women who waited outside the pit gates. Suddenly, it was broken by the loud clank and squeal of the winding gear. “The cage is comin’. That means they’re a’ safe.” There was no cheering or jubilation among the crowd. Instead, Mary Ellen’s voice sounded loud in the murmur of the crowd as she pushed her way to the front.

“I’ll go and get whit news there is,” was all she said as she opened one of the gates. “You a’ bide here while the men go aboot their business.”

The womenfolk needed no telling. Dread had struck them into silence. Suddenly, into that silence came the sound of a distant, rumbling roar, and, for an instant, the very ground beneath their feet seemed to tremble.

Jeanie Makin began to cry.

Shivered

Sarah shivered as she absently stirred the pot of soup that was simmering on the range in the schoolroom. And the thing that made her shiver was not the cold that had crept over her as she’d shared the women’s vigil at the pit gates the night before, or the sleep that had eluded her when at last she had come home as dawn broke.

It was the memory of every detail of the awful night that had just passed – a memory, she knew, that would stay with her for the rest of her life.

Langrigg colliery had a rescue team, but some of them had been caught in the roof fall. Help had been brought from the next mining village, and a doctor had arrived to tend to the injuries of the men who were eventually brought to the surface.

Tricky Binnie had been dispatched to fetch the colonel and Miss Bunty.

But as that morning had dawned, six men were still missing. Among them were the Maxtons, father and son, Dreels Cox and Isaac Makin. Sarah shivered again. The missing men had been ahead of the survivors. The second roof fall had come down behind them and with it a gigantic wall of water.

“My mammy’s at the pit gates wi’ Mrs Maxton, an’ Mary Ellen said me an’ my wee brother could get soup at the Wee School, Mistress Morrison.” A little girl looked up at Sarah hopefully. She was clutching the hand of her little brother.

“Go and sit down and I’ll bring you some soup.” Sarah smiled, glad that Mary Ellen had set this task for her.

As the morning wore on, Sarah lost all track of time. The Wee School, near as it was to the pit gates, became a sanctuary for those who needed food or the exchange of news, or just the company of others to help them through the waiting for news.

All along the Raws, ranges were fired up, soups and stews were made and delivered to the Wee School. Children ran errands, delivered messages, brought lidded enamel cans of soup to those who kept vigil at the pit gates.

Weariness

Mary Ellen, face drawn with weariness, was persuaded to go home and rest just after noon. An exhausted rescue team was fed and returned to take instructions from the colonel. Miss Bunty went home and returned with a wagonload of blankets, shawls and other comforts for the vigil-keepers.

Once, as Sarah leaned against the draining board in the scullery, feeling suddenly dizzy from weariness, Daniel appeared as if from nowhere and put his arms around her. He was grimy with coal dust, unshaven, and his eyes were red-rimmed with weariness.

Her inquiring glance was met with a despairing shake of his head. “No news,” he said. “They’re pumping the water out now, so that they can get at the worst of the roof fall, but there’s not a sound from the other side. Not a single sound.”

His voice petered out and he hugged Sarah to him for what seemed a long time. A silence closed round them.

“I’m going to see Pate. He knows more about that pit than anybody else. We’ll need to find a way through that mess down there – and find it quick.” His voice broke as he spoke. “But first, I’m taking you home to get some rest, love.”

Without waiting for a reply, he led her out through the schoolroom, pausing to have a quiet word with two of the women there.

“They’ll keep going until you have your rest,” he explained as they stepped out into the street. Little was said until they got back to their own house.

Mind racing, but too tired to protest, Sarah allowed herself to be settled down, shoes kicked off, with a coverlet thrown over her.

“Get some sleep and you’ll be more of a help down at the school. I’ll just get my working clothes from the scullery and I’ll away up and see Pate.”

His voice tailed off as Sarah sat bolt upright. “Daniel, tell me the truth. You’ve been down the pit already, haven’t you?”

He didn’t answer, but tried to tuck the coverlet more securely around her. Desperately, Sarah clutched his arm.

“Daniel, please don’t go down there again. Please.” She began to cry. “Let the rescue team do what they have to do. Don’t put yourself in danger, please!”

“Sarah, I love you too much to make promises to you that I can’t keep.” Daniel kissed her. And before she knew it, the scullery door had banged and he was gone.

Uproar

“Ah had a feelin’ ye’d come, Daniel, so Ah’ve been busy.” Pate was sitting by the fire, pipe unlit, a sheet of paper in his hand. On it was a rough pencil drawing.

“Mary Ellen’s been keepin’ me up with the news fae the pit,” he said. “A second fall wi’ a flood forbye. See this.” He jabbed the paper with his finger. On it were what, at first glance, looked like a tangle of pencilled lines with crosses marked here and there.

“That flood was likely frae the auld quarry up ower the hill. It’s likely to have been leakin’ water intae the workin’s for a while, an’ the second fall wid hae brought the hale lot doon wi’ it.”

From the moment Tricky Binnie had banged frantically on the front door of the colonel’s house, raising the alarm, the place had been in an uproar.

The colonel, who had been dozing contentedly by the fire in the library, had been the first to be roused and had organised everything with military precision.

Tricky was sent to rouse the Goudies and the colonel summoned Bunty and Fleur, both in night attire. He marshalled his troops in the big hallway, having quite forgotten about Giles, the house guest, who was in a deep sleep.

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.