Archibald Cronin - The Stars Look Down

The Commissioner (briefly): Then I have now to declare this Inquiry closed. I should like, however, to express my indebtedness to all who have taken part in the investigation. I wish also to convey my sympathy to the bereaved families, particularly towards those of the ten men whose bodies have not yet been recovered from the pit. In conclusion, I want to congratulate Mr. Richard Barras on his heroic efforts on behalf of the entombed men and to place immediately on record that, from the evidence heard before me, he leaves this court without a stain on his character.

A murmur, a great sigh of relaxed tension filled the court. As the Commissioner rose, there was a clatter of chairs, a rapid hum of talk. The double doors at the back were thrown open, the court began to empty quickly. When Barras and Arthur reached the steps outside, Colonel Gascoigne and a number of others pressed forward in congratulation. Actually a faint cheer was raised. More people crowded round, eager to shake hands. Bareheaded, slightly flushed, holding himself erect, Barras stood on the topmost step with Arthur, still deadly pale, behind him. He seemed in no hurry to move from the glare of publicity. He looked about him, an eager, vindicated expression on his face, readily accepting any hand held out to him. Something emotional in his attitude flowed towards the waiting men. Another cheer went up and another, louder than before. Deeply gratified, Barras began to move slowly down the steps, still hatless, accompanied by Gascoigne, Lynton Roscoe, Bannerman, Armstrong, Jennings and, last of all, by Arthur. The crowd parted deferentially before this imposing group. Barras led the way across the pavement, head well up, his eye eagerly picking out known faces, acknowledging salutations, dropping a grave word here and there, feeling the popular sentiment veering towards him, a man leaving the court without a stain on his character, unsmirched by the mud flung at him, those last words ringing in his ears: “Your truly heroic efforts on behalf of the entombed men.” The party’s progress towards the Law became something of a triumph.

Inside the hall David remained motionless in his seat, hearing the cheers, the heavy movement of feet outside, staring at the blank sweating walls, the flies buzzing on the dirty window panes. Deliberately he held himself in check. No use to give way, no use at all.

A touch on the shoulder made him turn slowly. Harry Nugent stood beside him in the deserted hall. Nugent said kindly:

“Well, it’s all over.”

“Yes.”

Studying David’s impassive face, Nugent sat down beside him.

“You didn’t expect anything else, did you?”

“Well, yes.” David seemed to reflect seriously. “Yes, I expected justice. I know he was to blame. He ought to have been punished. Instead of that they compliment him, cheer him, let him go.”

“You mustn’t take it too hard.”

“I’m not thinking about myself. Why should I? Nothing has happened to me. It’s the others.”

A faint smile came upon Nugent’s lips. It was a very friendly smile. Throughout the Inquiry he had seen a lot of David, and he was strongly drawn to him.

“We haven’t done so badly,” he meditated. “Now we’ll be able to force the Mines Department to act over this question of abandoned waterlogged mines. We’ve been waiting on the chance for years. That’s the main issue. Can you see it that way?”

David raised his head, stubbornly fighting the emptiness within him, the ache of defeat.

“Yes, I see that,” he muttered.

The look in David’s eyes moved Nugent suddenly from his serenity. He slipped his arm round David’s shoulders.

“I know how you feel, lad, but don’t fret. You did well. Your evidence helped us more than you believe.”

“I did nothing. I wanted to, but I didn’t. All my life I’ve been talking about doing something…”

“And so you will. Give yourself a chance. I’m going to keep in touch with you. I’ll see what can be done. And in the meantime keep your pecker up.” He rose, glancing towards the door where Heddon stood in conversation with Jim Dudgeon, awaiting him. “Listen, David. Be at the station at six to-night. I’ll have another word with you then.”

He nodded encouragingly and walked over to Heddon and Dudgeon. The three moved off towards the temporary lodge office in Cowpen Street.

A moment later David rose and reached for his hat. He walked out of the hall and down Freehold Street. He was completely fagged. With typical intensity he had concentrated everything on the Inquiry, for six days he had not been near the school. And the result was this. He hunched his shoulders doggedly, taking hold of himself again. This was no time for the luxury of going to pieces, for petty spite and hysteria.

Along Freehold Street he went, across the road, and into Lamb Street. But there, opposite the Scut, a man called after him. It was Ramage. The butcher wore a dirty blue linen coat with an enormous blue and white apron belted round his middle. He had just come up from his slaughter-house where he had been down at the killing, the backs of his hands were mottled with dried blood. The warm afternoon sun set a haze of red about him.

“Hey, Fenwick, here a minute!”

David stopped but did not speak. Ramage eased his thick neck away from his collar, then stuffed both hands in his leather belt, and lay back, studying David.

“So y’ve finished your day’s work at the Town Hall?” he declared with heavy sarcasm. “No wonder y’look proud of yourself. God Almighty, y’ve been a credit to Sleescale this past week. Standin’ up to argue with Lynton like y’ were bloody lawyer.” His sneer grew. He was evidently posted in the last details of the Inquiry. “But if I were in your shoes I wouldn’t look so set up about it. Maybe y’ll find this business has cost more’n ye bargained for.”

David waited, facing Ramage. He knew something was coming. There was a pause, then Ramage abandoned his sarcasm, his brows drew down in that bullying way.

“What the hell d’ye think y’ve been up to, leaving the school without permission, these last six days? D’ye think ye own the bloody place…”

“I went to the Inquiry because I had to.”

“Y’ didn’t have to. Y’ went out of downright spite. Y’ went to sling muck at one of the leadin’ men in the town, a public man like myself, a man who got ye the job what ye never deserved. Y’ve turned round and bit the hand that fed ye. But, by God, y’re goin’ to regret it.”

“I’m the best judge of that,” David said curtly and he made to go.

“Wait a minute,” Ramage bawled, “I’ve not done with ye. I’ve always thought ye were a trouble maker like your father afore ye. Y’re nothing but a rank rotten socialist. We’ve no use for your kind teachin’ in our schools. Y’re goin’ to be chucked out.”

A pause. David considered Ramage.

“You can’t put me out.”

“Oh, can’t I? Can’t I though?” Triumph blared into Ramage’s snarl. “Y’ might like to know we called a meetin’ of the School Board last night to consider y’re conduct an’ agreed unanimous to demand your resignation.”

“What”

“No whats about it. Ye’ll get your notice from Strother in the morning. He wants a man what’s gotten a B.A. t’is name; not a half-baked pitman like yourself.” For a full minute Ramage indulged himself in the delicious satisfaction of watching David’s face, then, with a sardonic grin fixed on his meaty lips, he swung round and barged his way into his shop.

David walked along Lamb Street, head down, eyes on the pavement. He let himself into his house, went into the kitchen and began automatically to make himself some tea. Jenny was in Tynecastle at her mother’s, he had sent her there this last week to spare her the worry of the Inquiry. He sat down at the table, stirring his cup, round and round, not even tasting the tea. So they were trying to sack him. He knew at once that Ramage meant every word he had spoken. He could fight, of course, appeal to the Northern Teachers’ Association. But what would be the use? His face hardened. No, let them do what they liked. He would talk to Nugent at six, he wanted to be out of this blind alley of teaching, he wanted to do something. O God, he did want to justify himself, to do something at last.