Eve and Her Sisters by Rita Bradshaw Page A

to say it was a crime he was going to follow his da down the pit. She remembered she had looked down at his hands as he had waved them expressively. They had still been boy’s hands, a trace of childhood dimples over his knuckles remaining . . .
    ‘Oh, William, William.’ She turned sharply from the window, a physical ache between her breasts. Pray God he was in the world of light and colour he had craved. She couldn’t bear to think he was lying under the ground in the dark, that that was all there was. Life couldn’t be so cruel.
    ‘You all right, lass?’ Nell turned from the porridge she was stirring on the hob as Eve came into the kitchen.
    Eve nodded, fighting back tears.‘I’ll take Mrs Travis her water while you get her tray ready.’ Caleb was suffering with a heavy cold which had seen him retire the night before after several hot whisky toddies. She was not surprised he wasn’t downstairs yet. Occasionally, when he was particularly busy or had had words with his mother the day before, she would take Mildred her bowl and bring out the slops after stoking up the fire. It wasn’t a job she relished but she did it for Caleb.
    When she reached the bedroom she knocked and waited a moment before entering, her voice determinedly bright and cheerful as she said, ‘Good morning, Mrs Travis. It’s a beautiful day.’
    ‘Oh, it’s you, is it?’ Mildred was sitting up in bed, a white linen cap on her head. ‘Where’s Caleb?’
    ‘He’s not well, he’ll be along later.’
    ‘And Mary?’
    ‘It’s a Saturday. I’ve let her sleep in for a while.’ She placed the bowl on a side table next to the bed with the bar of soap and towel she fetched from a drawer, and bent to retrieve the chamber pot from under the bed. The smell hit her and she had to swallow hard before she could say, ‘I’ll empty this before I see to the fire.’
    ‘Do it now. The room’s freezing.’
    The room was as warm as toast. Admittedly it wasn’t at the furnace level Mildred usually insisted on but the fire had been well banked down the night before and sufficient heat had escaped to ensure that, unlike every other room in the inn, there was no ice coating the inside of the window. Eve didn’t argue with Caleb’s mother, though. Setting the pot down by the bedroom door she approached the grate and proceeded to rake out the glowing hot coals and add more wood and coal. The fire immediately began to blaze and crackle.
    ‘I’ll say one thing for you, you know how to make a good fire even if your pastry is wanting.’
    Eve ignored this. Her pastry was fine, everyone said it melted in the mouth. Everyone apart from Mildred Travis. She dusted her hands on her apron but before she could leave the room, Mildred said, ‘I suppose there was never a shortage of coal in your house, not with it being free, but that’s not taken into consideration when they decide they’re going to strike.’
    She was in one of her awkward moods. Eve looked into the red face in which all the features looked squashed by the flesh surrounding them. ‘They are striking because of round-the-clock working and—’
    ‘I know why they’re striking. I’m not stupid, girl. I’m saying it shouldn’t be. They do an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay and they should be content with their lot in life. What would happen if those in the inn trade suddenly decided not to open their doors, eh? You answer me that? There’d be stones through the window and lynchings but we’re all expected to put up with the miners walking out whenever they feel like it.’
    What a truly stupid woman she was. Knowing she should keep quiet, Eve couldn’t help saying, ‘The two things are not comparable.’
    ‘Not comparable?’ Mildred hitched herself further up her pillows, her chins wobbling. ‘And why is that, pray?’
    Eve’s cheeks were burning but not because of the warm room. ‘Because they are very different occupations, ’ she said flatly.
    ‘Oh aye, I’ll