Read Online The Stony Path by Rita Bradshaw - Free Book Online

thick cream, his gaze taking in the burnished copper in her glossy hair before he turned his eyes -– frontwards again. And now his thoughts were not those of a twelve-year-old boy but a grown man sensing his destiny as he told himself, Another eighteen months and I’ll have left school, and two years after that we’ll both be sixteen. Lots of people wed early ... And when he took Polly’s hand to pull her over a ridge of mud the cows had made with their hoofs and she didn’t try to withdraw her fingers from his once they were walking on again, it was all the confirmation he needed.
     

Chapter Two
     
    The tea things had all been cleared away and the bowl of flowers was back in the middle of the snowy-white cloth and had been for half an hour, but still no one showed any signs of wanting to leave. This was mainly due to the earnest debate which had been steadily gathering steam for the last twenty minutes between Frederick on the one side and Arnold and Luke on the other, Walter and Henry long since having left the fray.
     
    ‘Aye, I know farming depends on the weather and such and can be a hazardous life, but it’s not a patch on coal mining,’ Luke was saying in answer to a comment of Frederick’s. ‘There’s danger all around underground. The owners pay lip service to safety, and there’s scarcely a week or so goes by without a fall or an explosion marking some poor devil’s card. They talk about the Labour Party the trade unions created a couple of years back being the answer to the working man – well, I hope so, the unions need some backing.’
     
    ‘It was one of your own, James Keir Hardie, who said the aim must be for a party in Parliament with flexibility for development,’ Frederick reminded the younger man quickly. ‘It was his proposal they took on board, and development happens slowly.’
     
    ‘Aye, and he’s a good man and a good Scottish miner, but when it comes to the unions taking on the owners it’ll be like spitting against the wind without government help. Look at Silksworth, and that’s only eleven years ago. Them damn – sorry, Gran – them bailiffs had a key that’d open every colliery house door and they got the police to help them. Miners on the roof of every house, rioting in the streets, but the end result was the candymen entering homes and turning men, women and bairns out into the streets to starve. Hundreds evicted and for what? Daring to object to being buried alive while the owners and viewers are sitting pretty in their blood-bought fancy houses, that’s what.’
     
    ‘Aye, aye, well, I wouldn’t argue with you there, lad,’ Frederick said with a touch of the condescension that was habitual with him. ‘Bad business at Silksworth, bad business.’
     
    ‘One hundred and sixty-four men and boys killed ten years before that at Seaham, seventy at Ryhope; man, I could go on and on up to the present day. And there’s always someone getting killed or injured or going down with silicosis and the like. And I’ve yet to see a farm worker covered in carbuncles and open sores caused by years of working in hot salt water seeping down from the North Sea above the mine tunnels. Me da’s covered in them. Isn’t that right, Arnold?’
     
    ‘Aye, aye, it is that.’ Their altercation by the stream put to one side in the face of this common cause, Arnold nodded vigorously.
     
    ‘I can see you’re going to be a strong union man, Luke.’
     
    The censure in Frederick’s voice was not missed by the younger man, and Alice, having heard Hilda’s stepbrother’s views on trade unions before, squirmed slightly at his tone. This was going to turn nasty, she knew it.
     
    Luke looked at the man sitting so comfortably on the saddle next to the fire who had his Aunt Hilda, Polly’s mother, hanging on his every word. Frederick’s plump hands were resting on his thick corduroy breeches, his leather boots were polished to a good shine and his coat was of the best woollen