The two of them managed to get the old woman to her feet. They stood either side of her, holding her up until she said, ‘I’m fine. He’s just a bloody yellow belly, that man. Hitting women is a coward’s way. I don’t know why you won’t involve the police, Sarah. He needs putting behind bars, that one. That’s the onlyway you’ll keep him away from you and little Anthony. You talk to her, mister. I’ve seen you come here a lot. Talk some sense into her, can’t you?’
Sarah didn’t respond to this outburst, but simply handed the old woman her stick and asked, ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right, Sylvia? Shall I come in and make you some hot tea? My friend will sit with Anthony, won’t you, Ronnie?’
‘I’m fine. You get back to your son and perhaps your friend can persuade you that this is no way to carry on. Report him, Sarah,’ the old woman said. She turned away and disappeared into her rooms. Ronnie heard her turn the key in the lock.
When they returned to Sarah’s rooms, Ronnie said, ‘Well, are you going to tell me what that this all about, Sarah? That man said he’s your husband. You’re keeping something from me. What is it?’
Sarah didn’t answer for a while, but stood looking lost as if her world had collapsed onto her.
‘He always ruins everything,’ she finally said. ‘I wish I’d never met him.’
Sarah sat gazing into the fire, without speaking, for several minutes. It seemed like an age to Ronnie, but he didn’t say a word. He wanted her to decide for herself whether she was going to confide in him or not. She either trusted him or she didn’t. He wasn’t going to try to force the information out of her. There was clearly something serious and very disturbing that she found difficult to talk about, a dark veil that she couldn’t lift from her face, something to do with this man, a shadow from her past.
Slowly, she lifted her head and looked at him.
‘David is my husband in name only. We haven’t been together for some time. I want a divorce, but he won’t give me one,’ she said.
She looked at Ronnie with a fixed expression, her eyes dull and lifeless. It was as if she was looking through him, her eyes scanning the unknowable future and her mind fixed in the past.
Ronnie waited. Would she say more? Or was the past too painful. Had she sealed her thoughts against it? Sometimes it was easier to close the door on the past, in order to face the demands of the present.
‘Perhaps you’d better go,’ she continued. ‘I don’t want to involve you in all this. It’s such a mess.’
Tears rolled down her cheeks and she fumbled for a handkerchief up her sleeve and then in her skirt pocket. Ronnie handed her his. She wiped her face and then blew her nose several times.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Ronnie said.
‘I don’t know where to begin,’ she sobbed.
‘Tell me what has happened between you. It’s clear to me that he’s not a good man,’ Ronnie replied.
‘It’s not his fault that he’s the way that he is. I tried to understand. I tried to help him. Then he started hitting me. I kept telling myself that it was because of what had happened to him. That what he’d been through was like going through a war. I remembered what my father was like when he came back from France. There were so many men like him in our town. The few that came back, that is.’
She stopped at that point and drew short, spasmodic breaths, the way a child did when they were so upset they couldn’t speak. She wasn’t making a great deal of sense, but Ronnie tried not to interrupt her train of thought and just let her tell what had happened, the way she saw it.
‘He was a miner, you see. We married in 1934. We lived in Wrexham, North Wales. He worked at the Gresford Colliery, on the night shift. There was an explosion one night. I’ll never forget it, September twenty-second,1934. I didn’t find out aboutit until nine o’clock the following morning. He didn’t come home after his shift. I went down the street to see Gwyneth and find out if Bryn, his workmate, had come home. They always walked home from the pithead together. He hadn’t arrived either. Gwyneth and I got our coats and walked up to the colliery. We didn’t talk much. We must have both had the same fear. Miners’ wives are all afraid of the same thing. When we got to the pit, there was already a crowd gathered. Some were miners about to go down, but there were families too. There was a deathly hush as we approached. All eyes were on the pithead wheel. I asked one of the miners what had happened.
‘“There’s been an explosion. They’re searching for survivors,” he said.
‘There was an eerie silence hovering over all the people who were waiting. There were more worried relatives arriving every moment, causing the crush to become suffocating. Every neck straining and seeking a glimpse of what was going on. Other miners were rushing to the pithead, carrying all sorts of equipment to assist in the rescue. Orders were being shouted from man to man. A nervous question came from one onlooker.
‘“What in God’s name are they doing up there? Nothing’s happening.”
‘A surge of impatience swept through the crowd and yells began to erupt from all directions shouting out things like: “Where’s the rescue party? I can’t see anything. Move out of the way, can’t you? Put your backs into it. There’s men dying down there. For pity’s sake, tell us what’s going on.”
‘There was one lone voice that dared to support the rescuers: “Can’t you see they’re doing their best?”
‘We waited for two hours or more before that wheel started turning. When the cage came to the top, there was a surge forward but there was a cordon of men, led by the pit manager, keeping us back.
‘“Give them room,” the manager shouted. “Let the doctor get to them. We need to check them over.”
‘Everyone started calling out names: “Is Gordon there? Can you see our Aled?”
‘Everyone was pressing forward. Everyone was frantic for news. Two ambulances arrived and the crowds parted to let them through. It was another hour or more before some of the men started coming out, limping, bandaged, shocked to their bones. David was among them. I thanked God for saving him.’
‘It must have been traumatic for you,’ Ronnie said, taking Sarah’s hand.
‘For me, yes, but so much worse for him. He never really got over what happened that day. He was on the sick for some time. Then the mine owners said he had to return to work. He couldn’t even walk close to the mine for shaking, let alone go down the pit. He was dismissed. He couldn’t find other work and it was hard to manage on the dole. Then he started drinking. When I got pregnant, he didn’t want me to have the baby. Another mouth to feed, he said.’
