Easterleigh Hall Read Online Free PDF Page B

though. She leaned away, their eyes on a level. When had he grown so tall? He was barely thirteen. ‘I’ll be back in two weeks, bonny lad, on my afternoon off so I’ll be sea-coaling with you in the flick of a lamb’s tail.’
    â€˜I don’t want you to go, our Evie,’ he said.
    â€˜I’ve got to, Timmie, you know we have to save to buy Froggett’s house.’
    He pulled away, kicking at the path. ‘I’ll be down the pit soon and earning more so there’s no need for you to leave.’
    She sighed. Mr Davies the pit manager had long ago told all the miners that they’d lose their houses if their sons didn’t become Easton pitmen. It was this, as well as the freedom for Jack to press for better conditions, that had focused her on the future.
    Her mother’s arms were tight around her next, her plump body as yielding as ever. ‘Do as Miss Manton said and look after Mrs Moore, pet. Don’t worry about Jack, the daft beggar knows he’s in the wrong. All will be well in that direction, you mark my words.’ All will be well was a family saying, but did it mean anything?
    Her da was waiting on the cart. All the neighbours lined the street, waving as Old Saul clipped along the cobbles, jolting them this way and that. The conical slag heaps overlooking them were seething and fuming, the winding engines glinting in the sun, and over everything hung the smell of sulphur. She waved, smiled, but inside she was empty because the one person she was looking for had not come.
    They left Jennings Street, turned into Norton Street. Her da placed his hand over hers. She kept the smile fixed on her face. ‘Where shall we have the butties, Da?’
    He didn’t answer; instead he grinned and nodded towards the road ahead. It was Jack, walking in the street, his arms outstretched, flagging down the cart. He didn’t look at her but went to her father’s side. ‘I’ll take her, Da.’ It was an order. Her da glanced at her and she nodded, her throat tight because Jack was pale and grim, and his two black eyes stood out, his nose was crooked, his lip was split. This she hadn’t noticed yesterday. Perhaps it was a later fight. He had not once looked at her.
    The two men changed places. Jack tossed his father a purse. ‘From the fight.’ They nodded to one another, which was as good a rapprochement as one could wish for. Her shoulders sagged with relief. He shook the reins. ‘Walk on, you daft beggar.’ Her shoulders rose again at the coldness of his tone.
    They took the high road out of the village, heading north. It was tarmacked for the convenience of the Bramptons’ cars. Alongside the road, the river Tine ran thick and sleck-flecked. The journey would take an hour at Old Saul’s leisurely pace. He was a pony not inclined to action unless given a good thwack across the rump. Jack merely held the reins and stared ahead. They’d need to come out of the valley, over the hill to the next hill on which stood Easterleigh Hall. Old Saul clopped along past the row of hawthorns which ended in the Cross Trees crossroads. There were three trees, and it was the tallest spruce, the middle one, on which highwaymen and poachers were once hung. Here, Jack flicked the reins and turned left. Evie spoke now. ‘We need to stay on the road.’
    Jack stared ahead. ‘Not if we go to the beck. We need to eat.’ It was where they often went. His voice was quiet and tired now. He rolled up his sleeves and they swayed and jerked with the progress of the cart, his hands moving on the reins. His knuckles were cut and swollen, his arm too. His ear was bruised. Her heart ached for him. He shouldn’t have to do this, his job was enough, for God’s sake. He had to come out of the pit, he had to. She put her hand to her cheek where his spittle had landed. He said, ‘Forgive me.’
    She said, ‘Always.’
    They