‘Some are shipped to the ceramic potteries. Our clay is one of the best and is used for porcelain. My brother-in-law lives at Stenalees and works Stenna Pit. I’ve seen the clay out there. It’s not the same as ours. They ship it to America where it’s used to make paper. We ’ave the best clay. Ain’t that right, Billy?’
Billy caught up with them, smiling. ‘If you say so, Tommy.’
Tommy laughed. ‘You stick with me, my lad, and you’ll learn a thing or two. I’ll make a shift boss out of you yet.’ He ruffled the lad’s head and winked at Grace. ‘’E’s a good lad — ’ard worker. You can’t ask for more.’
‘And do you see much of Mr Danning?’
‘’Is sister’s accident ’as kept ’im off site for much of the year, but in recent months ’e’s been seen in ’is office in the sky.’ Grace followed his gaze to an old three-storey building. ‘Mr Danning and Mr Ward are too busy to mix with the likes of us. The day-to-day running of the site is down to the shift boss. The workers don’t ’ave much to do with them. They don’t know us as people. We are just the workers. This place is too dirty for the likes of them.’ His gaze fell to the hem of her dress. ‘Too dirty for the likes of you, miss.’
‘If it’s not too dirty for you, then it’s not too dirty for me,’ Grace said, smiling. Tommy and Billy appeared relieved to hear it.
A commotion broke out by the linhay. On instinct, Tommy, Billy and Grace ran towards the frantic shouting. A terrified horse, tethered to a wagon, bucked against its harness in the midst of a small gathering of men. The men were shouting commands in the hope of controlling the horse, but in reality little was being done. The cause of the horse’s distress became evident as they drew nearer. The heavily-laden wagon lay at a precarious slant as one wheel had broken under the strain. Its heavy load had spilled onto the ground and the small vocal crowd were desperately trying to save the precious clay before it was trampled on by the terrified horse.
The horse reversed into the wagon, grazing its hocks against the immovable load. It kicked at the barrier behind him in retaliation causing the crowd to momentarily retreat.
‘The captain won’t be ’appy the clay is being spoilt,’ said Billy, a worried frown creasing his brow.
‘It ain’t just the clay that could be damaged,’ warned Tommy as the crowd jostled forward again in their rush to save the load.
On instinct, Grace ran forward, only to be brought to an abrupt halt by Tommy’s grasp on her arm.
‘Stay back, miss. The ’orse is too mazed. They need someone who knows ’ow to ’andle ’im.’
‘The horse isn’t angry, it’s frightened. I know about horses . . .’ Grace pulled her arm away from his ‘. . . which is why I’m going to help.’
Before Billy or Tommy could stop her, she ran towards the terrified horse. She had held her father’s horses while their wagons’ were loaded and saw no reason not to help now. As she approached, her steps gradually slowed. She cautiously reached for its head collar. ‘Hush now,’ she soothed, with the aim of calming the gelding and encouraging him to step forward. The horse, wide eyed and nostrils flaring, jerked its head out of her reach at her first attempt, but on the second she managed to snatch at its bridle. Her fingers slipped beneath the leather band.
Despite her calming words, the horse remained terrified, his eyes rolling, eventually focusing downwards onto her. He wrenched his head away from her, yanking Grace forward. She fell heavily against its sweaty shoulder. A strong odour of damp animal hair laced with dung filled her nostrils. She braced her arms against the solid, moving muscle and pushed herself upright. The horse attempted to retreat, but felt the edge of the wagon against its hocks again. Instinctively it kicked behind him. Splintered wagon wood flew through the air like arrows. The terrified animal stumbled in panic, heavily jolting into Grace and almost knocking her off her feet. The crowd cried out in unison at the sudden danger.
‘Come away, miss!’ shouted Billy. ‘’E’ll kill you!’
Grace ignored him and attempted to steady the frightened horse again. She caught at the bridle, soothing him with more softly spoken words. For a moment it appeared to work, but the surrounding crowd saw the respite as their opportunity to close in further to rescue the load. Their advance was too much for the trapped horse to bear.
‘Everyone, stay back!’ shouted Tommy, but it was too late. The horse’s panic began to rise, along with its front legs. Before Grace could let go, she realised she was being dragged forward into the path of its flaying, dark hooves.
A man arrived by her side and reached for its head collar too. His hand, warm and strong, quickly slipped beneath the leather band next to hers. Their combined weight was too much for the horse and it abandoned its attempt to rear. His front hooves touched the ground as it angrily jerked its head to the side. The sudden stretch was too much for Grace and her fingers slipped free, but it did not matter as the man by her side still held on tight.
Grace knew, before she dared to look at him, that it was Talek. Their eyes met only briefly, yet the moment felt far longer. The horse still tugged at his grasp somewhere in the hazy distance, but his fear no longer mattered to her, for she saw, reflected in the depths of Talek’s eyes, a rare, precious solidarity that felt so intense that it caused the noisy chaos about them to fall silent to her ears. Only the sound of their hurried breaths, fanning each other’s lips, made any sense at all. It was a strange eclipse of reality, which could hide the anger on his part, and the defiance on hers, so that blood, high with sensations, was sent coursing through every part of her.
The moment ended abruptly when he wrapped one arm around her waist, lifted her off the ground and twisted her body behind him. The horse, which in reality was so close its odour still wafted round her, had attempted to rear again, butTalek’s quick thinking had shielded her from its hooves. He unceremoniously dropped her back onto her feet and turned back to the horse to secure his grip on its bridle.
‘Steady! Steady! Someone, undo the harness!’ Talek ordered as he tried to steady the horse with both hands. ‘Now!’ Workers on both sides of the wagon abandoned the clay and hurried to unbuckle the harness. They jumped aside as the horse sidestepped in fear. ‘Just two of you. Everyone else keep back,’ ordered Talek. Tommy and another man came forward to work on the harness. More clay slid from the wagon and others ran forward to protect the load. ‘I said keep back! The clay can wait.’
The crowd retreated at his order, leaving the remaining men struggling to undo the harness as Talek attempted to hold the horse steady. It was a difficult task. The horse continued to prance and Talek had to use all his strength to maintain his hold.
‘Someone, get a knife,’ shouted Talek. ‘Cut it if needs be. If this horse bolts, she will drag the wagon with her.’
Billy dropped his kettle and ran to the blacksmith. Within seconds he was back, carrying a knife. Isaac claimed it and stepped forward. With a quick sawing action, he sliced through the leather straps. The harness fell away and the horse took several hasty steps forward, its tail high with agitation and foam dripping from its mouth. Talek led the horse a short distance away and handed it over to Billy. ‘Check her for injuries before turning her out. She needs food, rest and water. We’ll not use her again until next week. She’ll need time to recover.’ He turned to the damaged wagon and surveyed the mess. ‘Salvage what you can,’ he ordered the men surrounding it. He jerked his chin towards another miner. ‘You there, find out why this wheel broke. If Dicken has returned to his drinking, replace him with a blacksmith who takes more pride in his work.’ Four men approached from the direction of the furnaces. ‘Get back to thekilns,’ he barked at them. ‘There are enough men here to clear this up.’
He turned round preparing to give another order, anger still clearly etched on his face. He saw Grace approaching and faltered. His gaze quickly raked over her body. As if finding her dishevelled, but ultimately uninjured, he quickly rallied. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he demanded.
‘Helping.’ As soon as the word was out, Grace realised she was doing nothing of the sort, but watching him. Talek didn’t seem to notice.
He took her by the elbow and guided her away from the earshot of his workers. ‘You know that’s not what I meant?’
‘Henry’s taken Amelia out. I came here to . . .’Why had she come here?‘. . . tell you where she was.’
‘Thank you, but I would rather you stayed at Roseland where it is far safer.’
