Heroes on the Home Front by Annie Clarke

Author:Annie Clarke [Clarke, Annie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473564657
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2019-09-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Stan met Sid and Norm the next morning on Main Street, their caps leaning to the left, their eyes squinting against the smoke from their Woodbines. Behind them, the slag heap seemed to smoulder, though there was little wind to whip it up. Sid cocked his head towards the Bedleys’ back lane. ‘Aye, best we check up, eh? But grand to be in yer own bed and sleep sound, our Stan?’

Stan just grunted, for his sleep had been disturbed by the absence of Sarah, by the thought of her doing whatever it was she was doing, by the missing of her that hearing her voice had made worse. But at least he now had the telephone number of the office in the hostel for emergencies. The other thing that had cheered him was having a word with Fran, as feisty as ever, and hearing that they were sharing with another Geordie who played the saxophone. By, that took some backbone. He grinned to think of a girl on stage, giving it a bit of go.

As they clomped down the back lane, slipping on the cobbles, he handed over Madge’s and his mam’s Woodbine rations and told the lads, ‘We’ll split three ways, like normal, though if yer bad pitmen, I’ll tek ’em back.’

Norm laughed. ‘Good as gold we’ll be, lad, and she plays a saxophone, yer says? Howay, I’d like to meet her, an’ all. You’ve yer Sarah, Sid’s hankering after that Rosie, and who’s for me?’

Sid nudged him. ‘There’s always that snooty Amelia?’

The mention of her name reminded Stan of Fran’s question about Amelia being adrift in a sea of northerners, without a paddle or a lifebelt, and shouldn’t everyone give her a wee bit of support? He asked the lads, as coal-dusted pitmen on their way off shift passed them, heads bowed. All called to one another, ‘’Ow do?’ And sometimes, ‘’Ow’s the lasses?’ ‘Mrs B all reet wi’ Beth?’ ‘Mrs Smith all reet wi’out her lass?’ ‘Yer all reet wi’out yer two lasses?’

Stan answered them all. It was only when they reached the Bedley backyard that he was able even to think of Fran’s question about Amelia again. As he began to ask the lads, Beth hurtled out of the gate, crashing into them. Round they spun, slipping on the snow, and all four of them fell, Beth on top of Stan. Stan looked up into her laughing face. For just a moment he was back to what seemed like years ago with Beth, her luscious body and her laugh that made everything all right. Sid hauled her off and Stan scrambled to his feet. ‘Squash me bait, would you?’ he laughed, brushing the snow from him with shaking hands. What the hell was the matter with him?

The hooter was sounding, the pitmen skirting around them. ‘Get yerselves to t’pit, and the lass to the bus.’

‘What’s wrong wi’ yer lugs, pet? Canna you hear Bert hooting?’ It was Eddie Corbitt.

Beth called, ‘Howay, Mr Corbitt, I canna hear nowt with Auld Hilda’s hooter blasting out.

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