strike, maybe because that way it seemed as though they were in charge, as if it was the working man taking the action instead of the employers. Gradually it became commonplace to see miners fixing roofs and cleaning chimneys and grooming dogs or ponies, or digging gardens.
Adam and his father decided to try their hand at a spot of painting and decorating and went knocking on doors in Fulwell and Roker and the more well-to-do part of Southwick, but as they were competing with many other miners, jobs were few and far between. Joe had a little more success collecting fish and vegetable scraps from the market and from people’s bins which he sold to folk who kept hens or pigs.The four younger children thought it was great fun to go out with shovels and buckets and follow the carthorses, picking up their manure, which they sold to the big houses on the outskirts of town for their gardens. As the strike dragged on into August, it was clear to Hannah that without Jake Fletcher’s help in the way of the sacks of food he brought to the house each week the Woods would have been in dire straits.
It was this very thing that caused the first serious disagreement between Hannah and Adam late one Sunday evening at the beginning of September, a disagreement which was to have repercussions neither of them could have dreamt of. It had been a fine day and Hannah had joined the Wood family for a picnic on the beach.At least that was the way everyone referred to the hours spent picking winkles and looking for crabs and sea coal.The week before,Adam and his father and brother had earned a few shillings fetching sand from the beach, washing it in buckets and selling it to a local builder. This source of income had been short-lived. The builder had told them kindly there was only so much sand he could use and he wouldn’t be needing any more for a week or two. But the three men had noticed women and children foraging for anything the tide left behind. Hence the Sunday outing.
It was close to sunset when they walked home to Wayman Street through the hot dusty streets. People were sitting on their doorsteps or gossiping over their backyard in the dying sunshine, the smell of the privies overpowering in some places due to the heatwave they’d been enjoying the last weeks.
Hannah and Adam trailed behind the others, who walked ahead in a small group, Joe and his father carrying the five-year-old twins, Matthew and Robert, on their backs. Rose was holding a bucket full of winkles and Naomi one containing a few crabs, while Stephen and Peter were pulling the wooden packing case on wheels Mr Wood had made to transport the sea coal and seaweed which would be dried out and used on the range fire. No one glancing at the family group would have guessed the growing desperation within its ranks. The summer was all but over, autumn was upon them and winter loomed round the corner with its ice and snow and raw winds. They were weeks behind with the rent, the twins had ringworm and impetigo and no matter what their mother tried she hadn’t been able to get rid of the infections, and all the family were pale and washed-out looking.
As Hannah and Adam turned the corner into Wayman Street, they saw the others approaching the tall dark figure of Jake Fletcher who had obviously been waiting outside the house for their return. Adam swore under his breath. ‘What’s he doing here? Come to gloat.’ He swore again, a base oath, and Hannah blinked against it.‘Why me da doesn’t tell him to stuff his charity where the sun don’t shine, I don’t know.’
‘He’s family, Adam. He’s only trying to help out.’
‘Help out?’ Adam stopped and looked at her, shaking his head. ‘Don’t you believe it. He’s rubbing our noses in it, that’s what he’s doing with his sacks of this an’ that. I’d rather starve than take anything from that scum.’
But he didn’t. He ate the spuds and turnips and other vegetables Jake
Adam and his father decided to try their hand at a spot of painting and decorating and went knocking on doors in Fulwell and Roker and the more well-to-do part of Southwick, but as they were competing with many other miners, jobs were few and far between. Joe had a little more success collecting fish and vegetable scraps from the market and from people’s bins which he sold to folk who kept hens or pigs.The four younger children thought it was great fun to go out with shovels and buckets and follow the carthorses, picking up their manure, which they sold to the big houses on the outskirts of town for their gardens. As the strike dragged on into August, it was clear to Hannah that without Jake Fletcher’s help in the way of the sacks of food he brought to the house each week the Woods would have been in dire straits.
It was this very thing that caused the first serious disagreement between Hannah and Adam late one Sunday evening at the beginning of September, a disagreement which was to have repercussions neither of them could have dreamt of. It had been a fine day and Hannah had joined the Wood family for a picnic on the beach.At least that was the way everyone referred to the hours spent picking winkles and looking for crabs and sea coal.The week before,Adam and his father and brother had earned a few shillings fetching sand from the beach, washing it in buckets and selling it to a local builder. This source of income had been short-lived. The builder had told them kindly there was only so much sand he could use and he wouldn’t be needing any more for a week or two. But the three men had noticed women and children foraging for anything the tide left behind. Hence the Sunday outing.
It was close to sunset when they walked home to Wayman Street through the hot dusty streets. People were sitting on their doorsteps or gossiping over their backyard in the dying sunshine, the smell of the privies overpowering in some places due to the heatwave they’d been enjoying the last weeks.
Hannah and Adam trailed behind the others, who walked ahead in a small group, Joe and his father carrying the five-year-old twins, Matthew and Robert, on their backs. Rose was holding a bucket full of winkles and Naomi one containing a few crabs, while Stephen and Peter were pulling the wooden packing case on wheels Mr Wood had made to transport the sea coal and seaweed which would be dried out and used on the range fire. No one glancing at the family group would have guessed the growing desperation within its ranks. The summer was all but over, autumn was upon them and winter loomed round the corner with its ice and snow and raw winds. They were weeks behind with the rent, the twins had ringworm and impetigo and no matter what their mother tried she hadn’t been able to get rid of the infections, and all the family were pale and washed-out looking.
As Hannah and Adam turned the corner into Wayman Street, they saw the others approaching the tall dark figure of Jake Fletcher who had obviously been waiting outside the house for their return. Adam swore under his breath. ‘What’s he doing here? Come to gloat.’ He swore again, a base oath, and Hannah blinked against it.‘Why me da doesn’t tell him to stuff his charity where the sun don’t shine, I don’t know.’
‘He’s family, Adam. He’s only trying to help out.’
‘Help out?’ Adam stopped and looked at her, shaking his head. ‘Don’t you believe it. He’s rubbing our noses in it, that’s what he’s doing with his sacks of this an’ that. I’d rather starve than take anything from that scum.’
But he didn’t. He ate the spuds and turnips and other vegetables Jake
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