Reginald Hill - Under World

‘They gave Billy a job on top,’ she said. ‘He didn’t say much, he never did. It were always hard to know what were going on inside Billy. Colin’s the same. You can never be certain. Never.’

There it was, the first warning.

‘He felt it, I could see that, ending up on top at his time. Not just the money, but his old workmates. Oh, he felt it. Then Colin jacked it in, the pit I mean. Said he wanted to go to sea. I don’t know where he got the idea from. I never wanted him to go down pit in first place and there were no need. He wasn’t stupid at school, could have done anything. But like I said, there’s never any knowing with our Colin and there’s even less telling. Once he decides something, it’s wasted breath trying to get him to change.’

Second warning. Ellie said, ‘But you must’ve been glad he was out of the pit. Both of them in fact.’

‘Glad? Aye, part of me was, at first anyway. But you don’t get owt for nowt in this world, especially not happiness, Mrs Pascoe. Price I paid for having them out of pit was Colin not coming home except once in a blue moon, and Billy sitting quiet as a cat staring into the fire or wandering off by himself with Jacko, that were his little terrier. I never knew what he were thinking, Colin neither. They both had dark hidden places inside of them, Mrs Pascoe. Not bad, I’m not saying bad, but dark. Mebbe if you work down the pit a bit of it gets inside you after a while.’

Third warning. Why not cut the cackle and say that Col was mad, bad, and dangerous to know?

The door opened and the young man in question appeared looking none of these things. Indeed, with tousled hair and an oil stain on his cheek, he looked about sixteen.

‘Mam, here’s Wendy,’ he announced.

A painfully thin young woman entered wearing baggy jeans and a loose knit sweater which emphasized her skinniness. Her eyes were almost feverishly bright and she was smoking a cigarette which the yellowness of her fingers suggested was neither the first nor the last of the day.

‘Didn’t know you were entertaining, May,’ she said, looking at Ellie with open curiosity.

‘This is Mrs Pascoe, she runs the course at the college that our Colin goes to. This is Wendy Walker. She runs our Women’s Group.’

‘The Strike Support Group? The Women Against Pit Closures?’ said Ellie.

‘Aye, that’s what we are now. It’s us the University should be spending its time on, not these lads.’

‘Yes. How many are in your group?’ asked Ellie, irritated with herself. For some reason she’d never even considered the possibility that May Farr might be a member of the Support Group. She’d fallen into the old chauvinist trap of defining her solely in terms of her relationship with men: the grieving widow, the protective mother.

‘Twenty at best, more like ten what you might call hardcore,’ said Wendy.

‘You may have met a friend of mine who’s done some work with the Groups. Thelma Lacewing.’

‘Thel?’ Wendy’s mouth widened into a nicotinous grin. ‘You a mate of Thel’s? She were all right. She’s got a grand throwing arm!’

Colin reappeared accompanied by a tall, gangling man with a not unattractively long face, like a sad sheepdog’s. He was clasping a carrier bag out of which smiled the fullmoon face of a cauliflower.

‘Here’s Arthur,’ he said. ‘You ready for off?’

It was clearly Ellie’s dismissal. She rose swiftly before May Farr could protest at her son’s rudeness and said, ‘I must dash. Look, I’ve really enjoyed meeting you. Thanks for the tea. I hope we can meet again some time. You too, er …’

‘Wendy. Give my best to Thel. Next time she comes, get her to bring you. It’s always good to make contact with the outside world!’

The thin woman’s tone was both friendly and mocking.

Outside Ellie said, ‘You didn’t introduce me to your friend.’

‘Friend? Oh, him. He’s no friend of mine. Arthur Downey. Bloody deputy. He were my dad’s best friend once. He’s been sniffing around Mam ever since Dad died. He looks just like a bloody great lanky hound, doesn’t he? Luckily she’s got more sense. Good job someone in our family has.’

They were at the car. To her surprise he opened the door and got in the passenger seat.

‘I’m sorry, Col, but I’ve really got to rush.’

‘That’s all right. Drop me along the road somewhere. I could do with a good walk. Get the taste of that sodding hole out of my lungs.’

She started up the car and set off.

‘Do you really hate the pit that much?’ she asked.

He laughed harshly and said, ‘Bloody right I do. There’s precious few as loves it, that’s for sure. But I always hated it, hated it and feared it from a kid.’

‘Then why did you go down?’ she asked.

‘Not much else to do round here,’ he said.

‘Come on,’ said Ellie. ‘Your mam said you were pretty bright at school.’

‘You have been having a right cosy chat, haven’t you? Did she get out the photo album and let you see me in my nappies?’

‘She loves you and worries about you very much,’ said Ellie quietly. ‘But she didn’t need to tell me you were bright. So what happened? This isn’t the bad old days when there really were no choices.’

‘You think not?’ He shrugged. ‘All right. I were bright enough at school to get something better than the pit, everyone reckoned. Not that there was much better round here. Clerking mainly with a lot less money and the chance of being made redundant any day. Oh aye, the big unemployment rush was starting when I did my O-levels. They said, Stay on at school, another two years and then mebbe college. I told ’em to get stuffed. I was sixteen and fed up with being a kid. They said, Be sensible, listen to our clever advice or you’ll end up down pit. I don’t know which were worse, the bloody pit being a threat or an expectation! I got mad and said, If I go down pit it’ll be because that’s what I decide to do, not what you buggers tell me I’ve got to do! And I went off that day and got myself set on.’

‘What did your parents say?’

‘Mam was furious. She’d not hit me for three or four years but she made my ears ring that day, I tell you. Dad were always a quiet man. He just said, “You’ve made up your mind to go down. See you make up your own mind to come up.” I soon found out what he meant. I hated it and everyone told me I’d not stick it, so I had to stick it, didn’t I? And I did stick it for nigh on three years till my dad had his accident. Did Mam tell you about that? He ended up with a locked knee and one leg shorter than the other. He didn’t get much compensation either. This deputy, Satterthwaite, said the lads had been larking around during their break when it happened. They often do muck about a bit, you’ve got to do something else you’d go mad. But not Dad. He’d just sit there quiet. Downey were there too. He could’ve said something, but he reckoned he was looking the other way. Bastard! He’d just got made up and I suppose he wanted to show Satterthwaite he knew which side his bread were buttered now. So there wasn’t as much compensation as there should have been. Union took it up but they got nowhere as usual. Not that the money bothered Dad too much. It was ending up on pit-top that got to him. He’d been a collier all his life. He had more pit-sense than all the deputies put together. They all used to turn to him for advice. Except Satterthwaite. That’s why the bastard resented Dad so much. For him to end up with a surface job at his age really finished Dad. You could see it in his eyes. All that he knew was useless to him now. It wasn’t just his leg that got shattered, it was his whole picture of himself. That’s when I came up too, when I saw that.’