were a few people from the village hanging about still but no sign of Mrs Mitchell. She must have gone straight home.
Well, there was nothing she could do about that, thought Karen. Dave’s mother knew about her mam’s poor heart, everyone in the village did; the damage done by the rheumatic fever had made her prone to fainting fits and collapsing at times of strain.
‘I told you you shouldn’t have come, Rachel,’ Da was saying as Karen returned to her family. ‘I told you it was too much for you.’
Da’s hair was grizzled now and his breath short with the lung disease. Oh, he was an upright man, one who modelled himself on Job. But he was a quiet man at home and gentle with his women. It was in Chapel that he gave his impassioned sermons. There he was a ‘blood and thunder’ preacher. The pews were full when Thomas Knight was preaching, Karen thought proudly. He could hold a congregation enthralled for hours and never need to refer to a single note. All he needed was his Bible, his dog-eared copy of the King James Version which went with him everywhere except down the pit.
Karen rose abruptly to her feet. She had to get away. It was all right now she saw her mother was not going to have one of her turns. She bent over the table and kissed Rachel, anxiously noting the dry skin of her mother’s cheek. Was it too hot? There were dark shadows under her eyes too; were they darker than usual?
‘I have to go Mam, Da,’ was all she said.
‘I’ll walk to the train with you,’ said Kezia, quiet now, the acerbic note gone from her voice.
The sisters stood on the up platform waiting for the Newcastle train. The wind grew stronger now, blowing in gusts and lifting Kezia’s shawl, showing the thickening of her waist, the start of a pregnancy.
‘You’re having a baby?’ asked Karen, feeling another pang of conscience as Kezia nodded. With Jemima in Lancashire and herself in Newcastle, Kezia had a lot to cope with already.
Kezia correctly interpreted the look Karen gave her.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ she said, ‘I’m strong enough. I can manage fine.’
‘Maybe I should have stayed in the village.’
‘Why no, man,’ Kezia said sharply. ‘In spite of the fact that he didn’t agree with you telling the lie about being married, Da’s that proud of you getting on, he would hate it if you came home now. Anyroad, what’s the difference? You’ll be going off to Australia in a year or two, won’t you?’
Karen glanced up the line, not knowing how to answer. The small local train chugged into the station and Karen kissed Kezia on the cheek, feeling the slight shrinking. Kezia was never one for displays of affection. The train came in and Karen climbed on and found a seat by the window where she could wave to her parents, now standing in the doorway of the tea-room watching her. Kezia had already crossed the bridge and was standing next to them, alternately glancing at the train as it pulled out of the station and keeping a watchful gaze on her mother. Karen settled down for the short journey to Newcastle, trying to quieten her mind for she had to be on duty in an hour or so and already she felt tired to death, strung out emotionally. She stared out of the soot-blackened window, not seeing the fields and trees and small groups of tiny houses clustered round towering winding wheels and colliery yards and tall chimneys belching smoke. Her thoughts were still with her family and the mining folk she grew up with. There would be a deal of sadness in Morton Main tonight.
‘Stop fiddling, Nurse, and get on with your work,’ Sister snapped.
Sister missed nothing, thought Karen as she dropped her fingers from her neck where she had been touching her wedding ring through the cloth of her uniform and returned to her work, terrified Sister would ask to see what was under her dress.
Sometimes it was hard to believe that she was really married, she mused, as she scrubbed the sluice and bedpans until they shone
Well, there was nothing she could do about that, thought Karen. Dave’s mother knew about her mam’s poor heart, everyone in the village did; the damage done by the rheumatic fever had made her prone to fainting fits and collapsing at times of strain.
‘I told you you shouldn’t have come, Rachel,’ Da was saying as Karen returned to her family. ‘I told you it was too much for you.’
Da’s hair was grizzled now and his breath short with the lung disease. Oh, he was an upright man, one who modelled himself on Job. But he was a quiet man at home and gentle with his women. It was in Chapel that he gave his impassioned sermons. There he was a ‘blood and thunder’ preacher. The pews were full when Thomas Knight was preaching, Karen thought proudly. He could hold a congregation enthralled for hours and never need to refer to a single note. All he needed was his Bible, his dog-eared copy of the King James Version which went with him everywhere except down the pit.
Karen rose abruptly to her feet. She had to get away. It was all right now she saw her mother was not going to have one of her turns. She bent over the table and kissed Rachel, anxiously noting the dry skin of her mother’s cheek. Was it too hot? There were dark shadows under her eyes too; were they darker than usual?
‘I have to go Mam, Da,’ was all she said.
‘I’ll walk to the train with you,’ said Kezia, quiet now, the acerbic note gone from her voice.
The sisters stood on the up platform waiting for the Newcastle train. The wind grew stronger now, blowing in gusts and lifting Kezia’s shawl, showing the thickening of her waist, the start of a pregnancy.
‘You’re having a baby?’ asked Karen, feeling another pang of conscience as Kezia nodded. With Jemima in Lancashire and herself in Newcastle, Kezia had a lot to cope with already.
Kezia correctly interpreted the look Karen gave her.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ she said, ‘I’m strong enough. I can manage fine.’
‘Maybe I should have stayed in the village.’
‘Why no, man,’ Kezia said sharply. ‘In spite of the fact that he didn’t agree with you telling the lie about being married, Da’s that proud of you getting on, he would hate it if you came home now. Anyroad, what’s the difference? You’ll be going off to Australia in a year or two, won’t you?’
Karen glanced up the line, not knowing how to answer. The small local train chugged into the station and Karen kissed Kezia on the cheek, feeling the slight shrinking. Kezia was never one for displays of affection. The train came in and Karen climbed on and found a seat by the window where she could wave to her parents, now standing in the doorway of the tea-room watching her. Kezia had already crossed the bridge and was standing next to them, alternately glancing at the train as it pulled out of the station and keeping a watchful gaze on her mother. Karen settled down for the short journey to Newcastle, trying to quieten her mind for she had to be on duty in an hour or so and already she felt tired to death, strung out emotionally. She stared out of the soot-blackened window, not seeing the fields and trees and small groups of tiny houses clustered round towering winding wheels and colliery yards and tall chimneys belching smoke. Her thoughts were still with her family and the mining folk she grew up with. There would be a deal of sadness in Morton Main tonight.
‘Stop fiddling, Nurse, and get on with your work,’ Sister snapped.
Sister missed nothing, thought Karen as she dropped her fingers from her neck where she had been touching her wedding ring through the cloth of her uniform and returned to her work, terrified Sister would ask to see what was under her dress.
Sometimes it was hard to believe that she was really married, she mused, as she scrubbed the sluice and bedpans until they shone
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