Page 12 (1/2)

This story co ago it was Part of it is from memory, and the rest is a reconstruction built up over the years through tiaps; for I wasn&039;t privy to everything that happened that time, which is perhaps as well But I do know that I&039;htmares, and I believe that this is where they have their roots, soit down on paper is ood and hot in those days, and no use anyone telling , who only res; they were better suo down to the beach at Harden every day I&039;d get burned black by the tiain at the end of the holidays The only black you&039;d get on that beach these days would be from the coal dust In fact there isn&039;t a beach anyfroles down to a scu black sea

But at that time, men used to crab on the rocks when the tide was out, and cast for cod right off the sandbar where the s sea would leave blue pools where we could swim in safety Well, there&039;s probably still sand down there, but it&039;s ten foot deep under the strewn black guts of the mines, and the only pools now are pools of slurry

It was su and hot, and the beach was still a great drift of aching white sand

Gypsies They&039;ve changed, too, over the years Now they travel in packs, motorized, in vehicles that shouldn&039;t even be on the roads: furtive and scruffy, long-haired thieves who nobody wants and who don&039;t much try to be wanted Or perhaps I&039; any more But in those days they were Most of them, anyway

Usually they&039;d come in packets of three or four fa the roads in their intricately painted, hand-carved horse-drawn caravans, some with canvas roofs and some wooden; all brass and black leather, varnished wood and lacquered chimney-stacks, wrinkled brown faces and shiny brown eyes; with clothes pegs and various ges, hareen, strange songs sung for halfpennies and fortunes told from the lines in your hand And occasionally a curse if someone was bad to them and theirs

My uncle was the local doctor He&039;d lost his wife in the Great War and never remarried She&039;d been a nurse and died somewhere on a battlefield in France After the war he&039;d travelled a lot in Europe and beyond, spent years on theto settle And when she was out of his systeraphs were all over the house) then he had coland, to the north-east where he&039;d been born In the suh to see hih the holidays

This summer in question would be one of the last - of that sort, anyway - for the next as already loo; of course, we didn&039;t know that then

&039;Gypsies, Sandy!&039; he said that day, just home froed with coal dust, which turned his sweat black where it dripped off him, with a pale band across his eyes and a white do head from the protection of a miner&039;s helmet

&039;Gypsies?&039; I said, all eager &039;Where?&039;

&039;Over in Slater&039;s Copse Seen &039;em as I came over the viaduct One caravan at least Maybe there&039;ll be more later&039;

That was it: I was supposed to run now, over the fields to the copse, to see the gypsies That way I wouldn&039;t ask questions about the accident in the mine Uncle Zachary didn&039;t much like to talk about his work, especially if the details were unpleasant or the resolution an unhappy one But I wanted to knoay &039;Was it bad, down the rih his ruse &039;A bad one, aye,&039; he said &039;A s and probably his life I did what I could&039; Follohich he hadn&039;t wanted to say any ypsies

Before I actually left the house, though, I ran upstairs to h the binoculars Uncle Zachary had givenway And I could even see if he&039;d been telling the truth about the gypsies, or just pullingmy attention fro those binoculars throughthe land all about

To the south lay the colliery: &039;Harden Pit&039;, as the locals called it Its chiuns aie spoked wheels turning, lifting or lowering the cages; and at night its angry red coke ovens roaring, discharging their yellow and white-blazing tonnage to be hosed down intocoke

Harden Pit lay beyond the viaduct with its twin lines of tracks glinting in the sunlight, shi in a heat haze From here, on the knoll where Uncle Zachary&039;s house stood - especially from my attic- I could actually look down on the viaduct a little, see the shining tracks receding toward the colliery The massive brick structure that supported them had been built when the collieries first opened up, to provide transport for the black gold, one viaduct out ofthe becks and streaold&039;, they&039;d called coal even then, when it cost only a few shillings per hundredweight!

This side of the viaduct and towards the sea cliffs, there stood Slater&039;s Copse, a close-grown stand of oaks, rowans, hawthorns and hazelnuts Old Slater was a farmer who had sold up to the coal industry, but he&039;d kept back small pockets of land for his and his family&039;s enjoyment, and for the enjoy after this whole area was laid to waste, Slater&039;s patches of green would still be here, shady oases in the grey and black desert

And in the trees of Slater&039;s CopseUncle Zachary hadn&039;t been telling stories after all! I could gli shire horse between his shafts, the curve of a spoked wheel behind a fence

And so I left the house, ran down the shrub-grown slope of the knoll and along the front of the ceraveyard itself and the gate on the far side, and so into the fields with their paths leading to the new coast road on the one side and the viaduct on the other Forsaking the paths, I forged through long grasses laden with pollen, leaving a smoky trail in ypsies

Now, you ypsy urchins But the truth is that even old Zachary in his ra house wasn&039;t nearly so lonely as ery in Essinghahts a week But I had no one With h accent, I didn&039;t hit it off with the colliery boys The ways, and their harsh north-eastern twang They called theh they weren&039;t from Newcastle at all; and me, I was an outsider Oh, I could look after ht theypsies and I had so here I&039;d played with the gypsies before

But not with this lot

Approaching the copse, I saw a boywater froht summer breeze off the sea favoured me, and looked up I wavedbut their faces were pale under their dark cloth hats, where their eyes were like blots on old parchypsies at all Or maybe they&039;d had trouble recently, or were perhaps expecting trouble There was only one caravan and so they were one fae of the copse, the head of the family appeared He was tall and thin, wore the same wide-brimmed cloth hat, looked out at ular la him where he stood with the top half of his body shaded; paradoxically, at the same time the sun had seee and I stopped

Behind hiloom her eyes, too, were like candle-lit turnip eyes in October

&039;Hallo!&039; I called from only fifty feet away But they made no answer, turned their backs on &039; with the gypsies! With this bunch, anyway ButI could always try again later When they&039;d settled in down here

I went to the viaduct instead

The viaduct both fascinated and frightened inally constructed solely to accommodate the railith, the addition of a wooden ay it also provided e but worked in the other with a shortcut to their respective collieries

On this side, abeyond the colliery itself and inland a half-mile or so toward the metalled so-called &039;coast road&039;, Harden The viaduct fascinatedover its three towering arches, and scared inous ay

The ay had been built on the ocean-facing side of the viaduct, level with the railway tracks but separated from them by the viaduct&039;s wall It was of wooden planks protected on the otherwise open side, by a fence of staves five feet high Upward-curving iron arms fixed in brackets underneath held the ay aloft, alone sustaining it against gravity&039;s unending exertions But they always looked dreadfully thin and rusty to me, those metal supports, and the vertical distance between thereat one In fact it was about one hundred and fifty feet Not a terrific height, really, but it only takes a fifth of that to kill or maim a man if he falls

I had an ambition: to walk across it from one end to the other So farforced back The trouble was the trains The whistle of a distant train was always sufficient to send et off the ay before the train got onto the viaduct! But this ti towards nised&039;un stayin&039; with Zach Gardner?&039;

&039;Yes, sir,&039; I answered as he stamped closer He was in his &039;pit black&039;, streaked with sweat, his boots clattering on the wooden boards

&039;Here,&039; he said again, groping in a grimy pocket &039;A threepenny bit!&039; He pressed the coin into o faster than me! Tell your uncle he&039;s to come at once to Joe Andersen&039;s The ambulance men won&039;t move him Joe won&039;t let thein&039; on We diven&039;t think for long, though&039;

&039;The accident man?&039;

&039;Aye, that&039;s his but not the rest of his body It&039;d be reet funny, that, if it wasn&039;t so tragic Bloody cages! He&039;ll not be the last they trap! Now scralad of any excuse to turn away yet again froe of the ay

Nowadays a simple telephone call And in those days, too, we had the phone; soh he did keep ahis rounds Across the fields and by the copse I sped, aware of faces in the trees but not wasting tiraveyard and up the cobbled track to the flat crest of the knoll, to where my uncle stood in the doorway in his shirtsleeves, all scrubbed clean again And I gasped out , he went to the lean-to and started up the bike, and I clis out I took upribbon of road to the west, until Uncle Zachary&039;s bike and sidecar ca of its pistons unheard at this distance; and I continued to watch hiht toward Harden, where a lone spire stood up, half-hidden by a low hill He caain at dusk, very quiet, and we heard the next day how Joe Anderson had died that night

The funeral was five days later at two in the afternoon; I watched for a while, but the bowed heads and the sli frame of the miner&039;sdistressed ypsies picnicking instead

They were in the field next to the graveyard, but separated froh stone wall The field had lain fallow for several years and was deep in grasses, thick with clovers and wild flowers And up in ypsies were there at all They had arrived as the cere and the first handful of dirt went into the new grave

They sat on their coloured blanket in the bright sunlight, faces shaded by their huge hats, and I thought: how odd! For while they had picnic baskets with the

Maybe they were saying so, silent prayers for the provision of their food Their bowed heads told me that rew bored and turned my attention elsewhere

The shock came (not to me, you understand, for I was only on the periphery of the thing, a child, to be seen and not heard) only three days later The first shock of several, it cae, but like a pebble dropped in a still pond its ripples began spreading almost at once

It was this: the recently ed Muriel Anderson had co herself in the beck under the viaduct Unable to bear the emptiness, still stunned by her husband&039;s absence, she had thought to follow him But she&039;d, retained sufficient of her senses to leave a note: a sirave There were no children, no relatives; the funeral should be simple, with as few people as possible The sooner she could be with Joe again the better, and she didn&039;t want their reunion cos were easier in those days Her grief quickly becae, which almost as quickly dispersed, but her wishes were respected

Froers at work on Joe Anderson&039;s plot, shifting soil which hadn&039;t quite settled yet, widening the hole to accommodate two coffins And later that afternoon I watched them climb out of the hole, and saw the way they scratched their heads Then they separated and went off, one towards Harden on a bicycle, heading for the viaduct shortcut, and the other co no doubt to speak with ypsies then, but they weren&039;t picnicking that day and I couldn&039;t find theer&039;s cautious knock at the door of the house, andhim in, I went downstairs to the latter&039;s study

As I reached the study door I heard voices: my uncle&039;s soft tones and the harsher, local dialect of the gravedigger but both used so low that the conversation was little more than a series of whispers I&039;ve worked out as said since then, as indeed I&039;ve worked s out, and so am able to reconstruct it here:

"Holes, you say?&039; That was my uncle

&039;Aye!&039; said the other, with conviction &039;In the side of the box Drilled there, like Power of the four)

&039;Woraffer!&039; (Wor as half-crowns, man, those holes!

And anyhow, he&039;s only been doon a fortneet&039;

There was a pause before: &039;And Billy&039;s gone for the undertaker, you say?&039;

&039;Gone for Mr Forster, aye I told him, be as quick as you can&039;

&039;Well, John,&039; (, I suppose I&039;d better come and see what it is that&039;s so worried you&039;

I ducked back then, into the shadows of the stairwell It wasn&039;t that I was a snoop, and I certainly didn&039;t feel like one, but it was as well to be discreet They left the house and I followed on, at a respectful distance, to the graveyard And I sat on the wall at the entrance, danglingin the early evening glow By the time they were finished in there, Mr Forster had arrived in his big, shiny hearse

&039;Come and see this,&039; said my uncle quietly, his face quite pale, as Mr Forster and Billy got out of the car Mr Forster was a thinanyway, and co that the car was like a furnace

&039;That coffin,&039; his words were stiff, indignant, &039;is of the finest oak Holes? Ridiculous! I never heard anything like it! Dalowered at Billy and John &039;Spade daraveyard, and I went to follow them But my uncle spotted ht where you are, Sandy ed and went back to the house But as I turned away I did hear hie And these lads are quite right Holes they said, and holes they are - four of theh the side of the box and the chips still lying there in the soil Well, you screwed the lid down, and though I&039;ll admit I don&039;t like it, still I reckon we&039;d be wise to have it open again Just to see what&039;s what Joe wouldn&039;t mind, I&039;m sure, and there&039;s only the handful of us to know about it I reckon it was clever of these two lads to think to come for you and me&039;

&039;You because you&039;re the doctor, and because you were closest,&039; said Forster grudgingly, &039;and ed my coffin!&039;

&039;No,&039; John Lane spoke up, &039;because you built it - your cousin, anyhow - and it&039;s got holes in it!&039;

And off they went, beyondI ran as quickly as I could

Back in my attic room I was in time to see Mr Forster climb out of the hole and scratch his head as the others had done before him Then he went back to his car and returned with a toolkit Back down into the hole he went, ers stood at the side, looking down, hands stuffed in their trouser pockets Fro for a better position, I assu the box But then Billy and John seemed to stiffen a little Their heads craned forward and down, and their hands slowly carave, well away until they ca headstones, then stopped and looked at each other My uncle and Mr Forster canified, I thought They, too, backed away; and both of the the dirt from their clothes, sort of crouched down into thehtened up, and then ot down once ing his hands, in coood ones and I could actually see the sweat shiny on Mr Forster&039;s thin face None of the three took a pace forward until my uncle stood up and beckoned for assistance

Then the two gravediggers went to him and hauled him out And silent, they all piled into Mr Forster&039;s car which he started up and headed for the house And of course I would have liked to knohat this was all about, though I guessed I wouldn&039;t be told Which ain

This tiitated, fearful, even outraged, but not hushed There were four of theht If you see what I mean

&039;Creatures? Creatures?&039; My Forster was saying as I crept to the door &039;Soround, you say?&039;

&039;Like rats, d&039;you er)

&039;I really don&039;t know,&039; said my uncle, but there was that in his voice which told me that he had his suspicions &039;No, not rats,&039; he finally said; and now he sounded determined, firm, as if he&039;d come to a decision &039;Now look, you two, you&039;ve done your job and done it well, but this thing uinea for each of you - fro about what you&039;ve seen today Do you hear?&039;

&039;Whatever you say, gaffer,&039; said John, gratefully &039;But what&039;ll you do about arl this? I mean-&039;

&039;Leave it to me,&039; my uncle cut him off &039;Andof chairs and ducked back out of sight Uncle Zachary ushered the gravediggers out of the house and quickly returned to his study &039;Sa to me very clear now, for he&039;d left the door ajar, &039;I don&039;t think it&039;s rats I&039;m sure it isn&039;t

Neither is it wor else of that nature&039;

&039;Well, it&039;s certainly nothing to do with nant, but ht

&039;It&039;s so to do with all of us, Sa do you think your business will last if this gets out, eh? No, it has nothing to do with you or the quality of workmanship,&039; he continued, very quickly &039;There&039;s nothing personal in it at all Oh, people will still die here, of course they will - but you can bet your boots they&039;ll not want to be buried here!&039;

&039;But what on earth is it?&039; Forster&039;s indignation or shock had evaporated; his voice was now very quiet and awed

&039;I was in Bulgaria once,&039; said e, very tranquil if a little backward, on the border Which is to say, the Danube There was a flood and the riverbank got washed away, and part of the local graveyard with it Soht, and the local people went very quiet and sullen At the place I was staying, they told e What&039;s more, they kne to find it&039;

&039;An Obour?&039; said Forster &039;Some kind of animal?&039;

My uncle&039;s voice contained a shudder when he answered: The worst possible sort of ani, and for a moment T lost track of his low-uttered words But obviously Mr Forster heard theh

"Whafl Man, that&039;s madness! And you a doctor!&039;

My uncle was ever slow to take offence But I suspected that by now he&039;d be si for the Obour with lanterns in the dark - woke up everyone in the village, in the dead of night, to see what they looked like by lantern light For the eyes of the Obour are yellow - and triangular!&039;

&039;Madness!&039; Forster gasped again

And now estion? So you tell h packed earth and dothat?&039;

?But I-&039;

&039;Look at this book,&039; o to a bookshelf, then his footsteps crossing the roouest

After a while: &039;Russian?&039;

&039;Romanian - but don&039;t concern yourself with the text, look at the pictures!&039;

Again a pause before: &039;Butthis is too&039;

&039;Yes, I know it is,&039; said ht &039;And I certainly hope I&039; ordinary But tellof this sort be ordinary?&039;

&039;What e do?&039; Forster was quieter now &039;The police?&039;

&039;What?&039; (ins and his three flat-foot constables? A more down-to-earth lot you couldn&039;t ask for! Good Lord, no! The point is, if this really is so of the sort I&039;ve htened off Iit&039;s been here, and we certainly can&039;t allow it to go somewhere else No, it must be dealt with here and now&039;