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Authors: Meg Hutchinson
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pocket of his jacket drawing out a slim rectangular tin box. The coins inside rattled as he threw it down on to the table.
‘That be the last we’ll get from the Topaz.’
‘But what will we do?’
Emma took the plates from her mother’s trembling hands, eyes going to Carrie, warning her not to interrupt.
‘We will do as the Lord ordains.’ Caleb crossed his forehead and chest. ‘If it be His will we leave this house, then His will be done.’
It was not the Lord’s will. Emma’s fingers tightened on the plates. He had not ordained that her father be robbed of his livelihood. That was Carver Felton’s doing.
‘But why?’ Mary sank down on a chair, eyes riveted to the box. ‘You’ve done your work as well as the next man, so why should John Barlow sack you?’
‘I asked him the same,’ Caleb answered, ‘but he would say naught but that I was finished.’
‘Is the Topaz mine to be closed, Father?’ Having warned Carrie not to speak, Emma knew she should do the same but the surging in her veins drove the question from her.
Caleb swung his head slowly from side to side. ‘Not that I be knowing.’
‘Then why lay off the men?’ Mary’s bewildered question followed her daughter’s.
Drawing a long heavy breath, Caleb lowered himself into the only comfortable chair the room boasted, his dust-laden sleeve on the cream cotton arm rest his wife had crocheted. ‘There be no laying off,’ he said dully, ‘I be the only one.’
Her father was the only man being laid off. Emma set each plate in its place on the table, her movements slow and ponderous. The mine was not to be closed, nor was any other miner to lose his job. There could be no other reason: Carver Felton wanted them out of Doe Bank, gone before his brother could return. He would know that the few shillings the women could earn picking coal from the waste heaps would not be enough to keep them. By sacking her father, Carver had rid himself of her in the most effective way. By driving her family from the village.
‘I was told at the end of the shift,’ Caleb continued to explain. ‘Told John Barlow wanted to see me at the mine office. He had my tin ready made up when I got there. Said as I was finished at the Topaz and that I must be gone from this house by the morning. He would say no more, answer no question.’
He did not need to. Emma watched her sister lay knife and spoon beside each plate. It did not take John Barlow to tell the whole of Doe Bank who was behind his action, nor did she need to be told that every man and woman in the village would be asking why – why should Felton’s sack just one man? Nor would speculation be limited to that. Once her father was over the shock, once the bewilderment had faded, he would put two and two together. Then he would know without being told. Know she carried Felton’s child.
‘Gone from this house?’ Mary’s faded eyes lifted to Emma’s. ‘Gone before morning. But to where . . . and with what?’
Almost as if her words were a challenge, Caleb rose to his feet. The fingers of one hand curling about the lapels of his jacket as they did about the black tail coat he wore to Sunday chapel, he took the stance he always adopted when lay preaching.
‘We will follow the Lord’s guidance.’ He lifted his hand towards the ceiling. ‘He will provide.’
‘The Lord will provide?’
Mary pushed herself to her feet, taking the pot of potatoes from the bracket above the fire, her tired eyes suddenly blazing like the coals at its centre.
‘Like He has provided for us up until now? Will He give us another hovel to live in, another plate of boiled potatoes for a meal?’
‘Speak not against the Lord lest He lift His hand against thee!’ Caleb’s face darkened, anger turning his voice to thunder.
‘No, speak not against the Lord. Nor against any man. A woman can say nothing against one of them, not a husband nor a father . . . nor one who lies with a woman he has not
‘That be the last we’ll get from the Topaz.’
‘But what will we do?’
Emma took the plates from her mother’s trembling hands, eyes going to Carrie, warning her not to interrupt.
‘We will do as the Lord ordains.’ Caleb crossed his forehead and chest. ‘If it be His will we leave this house, then His will be done.’
It was not the Lord’s will. Emma’s fingers tightened on the plates. He had not ordained that her father be robbed of his livelihood. That was Carver Felton’s doing.
‘But why?’ Mary sank down on a chair, eyes riveted to the box. ‘You’ve done your work as well as the next man, so why should John Barlow sack you?’
‘I asked him the same,’ Caleb answered, ‘but he would say naught but that I was finished.’
‘Is the Topaz mine to be closed, Father?’ Having warned Carrie not to speak, Emma knew she should do the same but the surging in her veins drove the question from her.
Caleb swung his head slowly from side to side. ‘Not that I be knowing.’
‘Then why lay off the men?’ Mary’s bewildered question followed her daughter’s.
Drawing a long heavy breath, Caleb lowered himself into the only comfortable chair the room boasted, his dust-laden sleeve on the cream cotton arm rest his wife had crocheted. ‘There be no laying off,’ he said dully, ‘I be the only one.’
Her father was the only man being laid off. Emma set each plate in its place on the table, her movements slow and ponderous. The mine was not to be closed, nor was any other miner to lose his job. There could be no other reason: Carver Felton wanted them out of Doe Bank, gone before his brother could return. He would know that the few shillings the women could earn picking coal from the waste heaps would not be enough to keep them. By sacking her father, Carver had rid himself of her in the most effective way. By driving her family from the village.
‘I was told at the end of the shift,’ Caleb continued to explain. ‘Told John Barlow wanted to see me at the mine office. He had my tin ready made up when I got there. Said as I was finished at the Topaz and that I must be gone from this house by the morning. He would say no more, answer no question.’
He did not need to. Emma watched her sister lay knife and spoon beside each plate. It did not take John Barlow to tell the whole of Doe Bank who was behind his action, nor did she need to be told that every man and woman in the village would be asking why – why should Felton’s sack just one man? Nor would speculation be limited to that. Once her father was over the shock, once the bewilderment had faded, he would put two and two together. Then he would know without being told. Know she carried Felton’s child.
‘Gone from this house?’ Mary’s faded eyes lifted to Emma’s. ‘Gone before morning. But to where . . . and with what?’
Almost as if her words were a challenge, Caleb rose to his feet. The fingers of one hand curling about the lapels of his jacket as they did about the black tail coat he wore to Sunday chapel, he took the stance he always adopted when lay preaching.
‘We will follow the Lord’s guidance.’ He lifted his hand towards the ceiling. ‘He will provide.’
‘The Lord will provide?’
Mary pushed herself to her feet, taking the pot of potatoes from the bracket above the fire, her tired eyes suddenly blazing like the coals at its centre.
‘Like He has provided for us up until now? Will He give us another hovel to live in, another plate of boiled potatoes for a meal?’
‘Speak not against the Lord lest He lift His hand against thee!’ Caleb’s face darkened, anger turning his voice to thunder.
‘No, speak not against the Lord. Nor against any man. A woman can say nothing against one of them, not a husband nor a father . . . nor one who lies with a woman he has not
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