Copper Kingdom (45 page)

Mali watched now as Mr Waddington opened the door and walked slowly to the gates. He was joined almost immediately by the women from the laundry, some of whom had menfolk working in the pits.

Mali could hear him telling the women that they must leave at once, not to mind the work, and her heart ached for the ones who would most certainly have lost loved ones.

Sally Benson stopped at the door of the office and there was a strangely triumphant look on her face.

‘I've some news for you,' she said excitedly. ‘I've been talking to the maid from the Cardigan household and a real rumpus there's been up there, so Bertha says. And it appears that Sterling Richardson is Master James's natural son, there's a scandal for you. Gone chasing off to the Kilvey Deep now, both of them.' She smiled spitefully. ‘Thought I'd be the first one to tell you, knowing how fond you are of Mr Richardson.'

Mali sat in stunned silence after Sally Benson had hurried away to join the other women at the laundry gates.

‘It isn't true, this can't be really happening,' she whispered and even as the full import of what Sally had said sunk into her mind, she was rising to her feet. She drew her coat over her rounded body and hurried outside into the coldness of the day.

Mr Waddington came hurrying towards her. She stretched out her hand and he took it in his own. ‘I must get up there,' she said, but Mr Waddington was gently hushing her.

‘I've heard all about it and I've sent for the pony and trap.' He tried to smile. ‘Don't worry too much, there's a good girl. No good ever came from jumping to conclusions. These stories are always magnified, you know that as well as I do.'

She scarcely heard him as he took her arm, helping her up into the swaying seat of the trap. She drew her coat more closely round her swollen belly as though to protect her child from the awful images that had begun to torment her mind. She could imagine Sterling lying injured, perhaps calling for help, and she could not bear it.

The terrible noise of the sirens seemed to be inside her head along with Sally Benson's words that were dancing crazily through her thoughts.

Sterling Richardson was James Cardigan's son, it hardly seemed credible. Then Bea Cardigan must be Sterling's half-sister. Mali struggled to sort things out in her mind. Miss Cardigan must have somehow learned the truth for that would make sense of all that had happened later. And it must have been she who had broken off the relationship with Sterling.

Mali felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness towards Sterling; perhaps everything he had worked for might now be cruelly snatched away from him. But nothing mattered, she told herself, nothing except that he be alive and well.

‘That young Rickie is tied up with all this, you mark my words,' Mr Waddington was saying. ‘Never did like the boy, eyes too closely set, always a sign of a sly nature. Mixes with some real villains he does too, but they will all be brought to justice, never fear. Ah, we are nearly there, hold tight, my dear, the road is a little bumpy just here.'

It was not very long before the slag heaps came into view and Mr Waddington was hard put to keep the trap on the roadway for the throng of people had grown increasingly large. Already at the pit head there was gathered a huge crowd of onlookers. Most of them were women with shawls over their heads, standing silent and tense, watching the rescuers bring out the injured and the dead.

‘This is terrible indeed.' Mr Waddington tied his scarf more tightly around his throat. ‘And I imagine there are other pits all along the hillside with similar scenes to this taking place above the coal face. The water rises so quickly, you see.'

It was as if he was simply voicing his thoughts out loud, but in any case Mali was not listening. She had caught sight of Victoria Richardson kneeling on the ground, her face contorted with grief, and Mali's heart almost stopped beating. With steps that seemed to move with nightmare slowness, she went forward. Her mouth was dry and her hands felt icily cold as she clenched them to her sides.

She stopped still then, staring down at the limp figure hastily covered with a coat. Her eyes met those of Sterling's mother and it was as though the two women recognised that they were caught in the same tragedy.

‘They've not found Sterling yet,' Victoria whispered. Her tears gushed afresh then and she held a handkerchief to her face. ‘James, my poor James.'

Mali moved woodenly away, her eyes searching the crowd, praying she would catch sight of the familiar tall figure, the golden hair and clean-cut features that were so dear to her. Let him only be alive so that she could tell him she was sorry. Explain that she did not really blame him for Davie's death, the words had been spoken in anger and pain.

A few of the rescuers, shopkeepers and miners working together, were placing the dead in rows along the ground. Some of the fatally injured were colliers caught in the blast, blackened faces shining as though they still sweated over their labours. Many more were still trapped down in the seams, unable to move because of the gushing water that was swiftly drowning the mine.

Mali stepped forward, approaching what was left of the engine house with trepidation. The blast had ripped the thick walls apart as though they were paper and the tangled remains of the beam engine lay among the stones. She moved away abruptly and saw as two men lifted a body from the perimeter of the debris, the head was lolling backwards, the eyes staring sightlessly at the sky. Mali clutched her hands to her breast as though she could stop her heart from bursting with fear and then with a sigh, she saw that the hair was dark, not gleaming gold like Sterling's.

‘This is no place for someone in your condition,
merchi
,' one of the men said kindly. He was wearing a barber's apron and there was an open blade jutting out of his top pocket. Mali looked at him dumbly and he shook his head at her before beginning to move away. It was then that Mali recognised the face of the youth the men were carrying, it was Will Owens. He did not appear to have a mark on him and yet it was clear even to Mali that he had been dead for some time.

She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Poor Katie,' she murmured and then she turned away for there was no time to be spent crying.

She scrambled over a heap of boulders and stopped to watch the rescuers inside the shell of the engine house, lifting a great stone from a man's chest.

‘
Duw
, it's Ceri Morgan,' a voice said, ‘and he's still alive. Come on, boyos, let's get these boulders shifted.'

Hope lit in Mali's heart. If one man had survived the blast then surely Sterling could be alive too! She turned to look frantically around her, it was as though she could sense him near.

The crowds were growing by the minute. Mali saw Bea Cardigan on the arm of the tall American, Dean Sutton, and both of them were ashen-faced as they helped Victoria Richardson to her feet. Bea was crying even as she attempted to lead the older woman away but Victoria was shaking her head and Mali knew that the woman was afraid she might yet learn she had lost a son.

Mali felt an arm encircle her waist and she turned to see Katie staring at her with wide, frightened eyes. ‘Terrible, so it is,' she said, ‘there are so many dead and I'm frightened 'cos I can't find my William.' Mali folded her friend in her arms and they clung together desperately. Closing her eyes in pain, Mali knew she must speak, tell Katie the truth, for what good was it to live in false hope?

‘He's dead, Katie.' She whispered the words but by the way the Irish girl stiffened in her arms, she knew she had heard them.

Katie suddenly began to sob, deep, heartrending sounds that tore at Mali's heart. The Irish girl clutched her rosary and lay against Mali's shoulder as though for comfort. Mali felt unutterably weary. Perhaps she should offer to go home with Katie and yet how could she leave the Kilvey Deep until she had seen the last of the dead laid out for inspection?

‘Look out there!' There was a cry from behind them and Mali pulled Katie clear just as a huge chunk of the engine house wall fell slowly downwards, sending a shower of dust and stones over the place where a few moments before they had been standing.

‘God, there's no hope for anyone left inside the engine house now.' One of the men who had been digging in the ruins rubbed the dirt from his eyes. ‘Crushed like bugs they'd be, poor sods.'

Katie tugged at Mali's arm. ‘Come on home, there's a good girl, I've lost Will and I couldn't bear to lose you too.' Katie's face was streaked with dirt and tears and Mali looked at her pityingly.

‘I must stay, please try to understand, Katie,' she said softly.

‘Mali, come here, I must talk to you.' Mr Waddington was clambering over the stones, his face drawn and grey. ‘Sit here for a moment with me my dear, that's right, on this flat stone.' He coughed a little and Mali stared at him, fearing that he had bad news.

‘Look,' he held out a torn coat, ‘Mrs Richardson believes it belonged to Sterling. I think you are going to have to be very brave, my dear.'

She held the cloth to her cheek and felt the roughness of the material rub against her skin. He was not dead, she could not, would not believe it. She shook her head.

‘It's going to be all right,' she said softly, ‘I'll just wait here but please, you go home, you look so tired.' She closed her eyes, clinging to the coat, trying to shut out the sounds all around her. There were women crying, and among them her dear friend Katie. But Mali must be calm, she must wait and not give up hope. Although it might be fanciful, it seemed then to Mali as though Davie and Jinny were sitting there right with her, giving her comfort and strength.

It had been at Mam's funeral that she'd met Sterling, a year ago this month. The weather then had been bitterly cold as it was now, but Sterling had illuminated the day with his presence. He had set some spark alight in her and Mali realised that she had been in love with him from that moment on.

And yet many months had gone by before her love had come to fruition. She had found joy lying in Sterling's arms but her happiness had been short-lived indeed.

She had believed many bad things about him, she had thought him hard and callous and all the time she had known nothing of the truth about him, judging only by what she saw on the surface.

And yet, Mali reasoned, the love that had blossomed that cold day in January had never really altered. She carried within her Sterling's child and for that she would always be grateful.

He had been rightly angry with her because she had not told him that she was expecting his baby and had not gone to him for help. She had thought herself too proud to ask anything of him and yet if he were only here now she would throw herself at his feet and take any crumbs he cared to offer.

A movement at her side caught her attention and she looked up to see Mr Waddington scrambling away from her. Her heart began to pound as she realised that the last of the dead and injured were being laid on the cold hard ground.

Slowly she forced herself to stand. Her legs were trembling but she must go forward. She still clung to Sterling's torn coat, clutching it in her hands as though it could bring him near to her. She stumbled a little and a soft ray of sunshine illuminated the place where she stood. Her eyes grew wide and unbelieving as she looked towards the crowd of rescuers.

He stood tall and proud, his hair begrimed with coal dust but with the gold still shining through. His shirt sleeves were rolled above his elbows and along one arm there was a great gaping wound. But he was among the rescuers, not the dead and injured, Sterling was alive and well.

Mali took a deep shuddering breath and for a long time, so it seemed, they both stood and stared at each other, the sunlight shining upon them like a benediction. Afterwards, Mali did not know who made the first move but then he was coming towards her, taking her in his arms, holding her close.

She put up her hands wonderingly to touch his face, stared into his violet eyes, wanting to drink in every detail of his appearance.

‘I love you,' she whispered. ‘God how I love you.' She stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his and his mouth was tender, telling her all that words could not.

She swayed a little and then Sterling was sweeping her up into his arms. He held her so close that their heartbeats were as one and suddenly the child within her moved as though feeling the great love that flowed between Mali and Sterling.

He looked down at her, and there was so much tenderness in his face that Mali put her head on his shoulder and wept.

‘Hush now, it's all right,' he said softly. ‘Nothing will ever separate us again, I'm taking you home.'