LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter 8

      ‘It’s bloody scandalous, the price of an ’undredweight o’ coal,’ Noah Fairfax complained to the man sitting on the adjacent stool in the taproom of the Jolly Collier, which was buzzing with laughter and a dozen assorted conversations. ‘I’ve just bin to fetch a load in me barrer and I couldn’t catch me breath when old Ma Poxon asked me for the money. One and threepence ha’penny her charged me.’

      ‘Blame the miners,’ the other man, Urban Tranter, said and noisily slurped the froth from the pint Ramona had just placed on the table before him. ‘They’m forever on strike. Swines. Never satisfied, them lot. Coal’s bound to be scarce.’

      ‘Scarce?’ Noah queried indignantly. ‘Rockin’ hoss shit’s scarce but nobody’s asking one and threepence ha’penny a bloody ’undredweight for it.’

      ‘But nobody wants to burn rocking hoss shit, Noah. Trouble is, when coal gets scarce, the price goes sky bloody high.’

      ‘So what they oughta do,’ Noah said, withdrawing a tin of twist tobacco from his jacket pocket, ‘is let them saft Suffragettes go down the mines when the miners am on strike.’

      Ramona returned to the table. ‘Your change, Mr Tranter.’

      ‘Ta, my lover,’ he said and pocketed it. Urban chuckled at Noah and nodded his agreement as he dipped his nose into his pint mug.

      ‘Yo’ can loff, Urban, but if them Suffragettes want the vote like a mon, then let ’em get down the pits and dig coal like a mon.’ Animatedly, he rubbed a knob of tobacco between the palms of his hand to break it into smokable strands. ‘Then they might get a bit o’ sympathy from the likes o’ you and me. Eh, Urban? Then we might get reasonable price coal and all.’

      Elijah Tandy, who was also serving, heard the discussion and laughed. ‘Are you going to argue about the Suffragettes now, Noah?’ he asked. ‘Ramona will argue with you, won’t you sweetheart?’

      ‘Me? I never argue with customers, Uncle Elijah,’ she replied pleasantly and pulled another pint. She caught his eye and he winked at her, which had an unsteadying affect. She could not hold his look, for fear he could read her mind and see the image of himself therein, standing magnificently naked in the bathtub in the brewery. Her long eyelashes swept the intensifying bloom of her cheek as she turned away.

      ‘You’re blushing, Ramona,’ he teased provocatively, for he believed he knew why. And it was easy for him to make gain from a situation that would have mortified another man.

      ‘No, I’m not,’ she protested and pulled another pint to keep her face hidden. Since she’d secretly watched him towelling himself dry, she’d seen her Uncle Elijah in a dangerously different light; not as an uncle – her father’s brother – but as a man. And an attractive man at that, with all man’s hard and healthy cravings for love. She’d been excited at what she’d witnessed so secretly. Oh, he was a man all right, fit and full-blooded. And she’d found it impossible to dismiss from her mind the images of him standing in all his full-blooded glory in the oblique rays of the yellowing sun as it streamed through the brewery window onto his muscular body that evening.

      When she thought her colour had subsided she looked up and saw with grateful surprise that Ned Brisco was standing beside her, an expectant grin on his face.

      ‘Ned! What brings you here?’

      ‘Hello, Ramona. I just walked back from work with Clover. I thought I’d call in and have a drink before my tea and say hello.’

      ‘Sit you down, eh, and I’ll bring you a pint over.’

      ‘I’ll stand here by you, if that’s all right.’

      ‘All right. Just so long as you don’t stand in my way.’ She smiled to soften what might sound like disapproval. ‘Clover’s back now then, is she?’

      ‘Yes. She said she was going to wash and change. I suppose she’s going courting tonight.’

      ‘Lucky girl.’ She delivered two drinks and returned with the money which she dropped into the till.

      ‘Are you courting now, Ramona?’

      It was a leading question. She began pulling another pint. She could so easily say no and wheedle an invitation out of Ned to go out with him. And, if she answered no, she wasn’t courting, she would be telling no lie, for Sammy had joined the Staffordshire Fusiliers and had gone away to commence his training. On the other hand, she could so easily say yes to an invitation. Ned was nowhere near as fanciable as Elijah but what the hell. It could be her way of getting back at Clover for luring Tom away when she reckoned he was so close to asking her to be his girl. Clover cared about Ned, for all her denials. She had even warned her off.

      ‘Well?’ Ned prompted.

      ‘No I’m not courting any more, Ned…’ She looked him in the eye and handed him a pint of bitter beer. ‘How’s your flying machine coming on?’

      He delved into his trouser pocket and handed her sixpence. ‘Oh, all right,’ he answered brightly, well and truly sidetracked. ‘I shall be flying it again in a week or two to try out some modifications I’ve done. Why don’t you come and watch? I daresay Clover will come if she can drag herself away from that Tom Doubleday.’ He took an ample quaff from the glass.

      Ramona regarded him with pity. ‘You ain’t still bitter about him, are you, Ned? What you need is a sweetheart of your own to take your mind off things.’