Episode 6: Return of the Body

It was half-past ten, and the old woman was saying : "You've nothing left -- but trouble; and you're never too old for trouble, never too old for that ---- " when the gate banged back, and there were heavy feet on the steps.

"I'll go, Lizzie, let me go," cried the old woman, rising. But Elizabeth was at the door. It was a man in pit-clothes.

"They're bringin' 'im in, Missis," he said, simply. Elizabeth's heart halted a moment. Then it surged on again, almost suffocating her.

"Is he--is it bad ?" she asked.

The man nodded and turned away, looking at the garden :

"The doctor says 'e'd been dead hours. 'E saw 'im i' th' lamp-cabin."

The old woman, who stood just behind Elizabeth, dropped into a chair, and folded her hands, crying: "Oh, my boy, my boy!"

"Hush ! " said Elizabeth, with a sharp twitch of a frown. "Be still, mother, don't waken th' children : I wouldn't have them down for anything !"

The old woman moaned softly, rocking herself. The man was turning away. Elizabeth took a step forward.

"How was it ?" she asked.

"Well, it wor like this," the man replied, very ill at ease. "'E wor finishin' a stint, an' th' butties 'ad gone, an' a lot o' stuff come down atop 'n 'im."

"And is he much -- has it made a mess of him ?" asked the widow, with a shudder.

"No," said the man, "it fell at th' back of 'im. 'E wor under th' face, tha sees, an' it niver touched 'im. It shut 'im in. 'E wor smothered."

Elizabeth shrank back. She heard the old woman behind her cry :

"What ? -- did 'e say 'e was suffocated ?"

The man replied, more loudly : "Yes -- that's 'ow it wor !"

Then the old woman wailed aloud, and this relieved Elizabeth.

"Oh, mother," she said, putting her arms round the old woman, "don't waken th' children, don't waken th' children."

She wept a little, while the old mother rocked herself and moaned. Elizabeth remembered that they were bringing him home, and she must be ready. "They'll lay him in the parlour," she said to herself, standing a moment pale and perplexed.

Then she lighted a candle and went into the tiny room. The air was cold and damp, but she could not make a fire, there was no fireplace. She set down the candle and looked round. The candlelight glittered on the lustre-glasses, on the two vases that held some of the pink chrysanthemums, and on the dark mahogany. There was a cold, deathly smell of chrysanthemums in the room. Elizabeth stood looking at the flowers. She turned away, and calculated whether there would be room to lay him on the floor, between the couch and the chiffonier. She pushed the chairs aside. There would be room to lay him down and to step round him. Then she fetched the old red tablecloth, and another old cloth, spreading them down to save her bit of carpet. She shivered on leaving the parlour ; so, from the dresser-drawer she took a clean shirt and put it at the fire to air. All the time her mother-in-law was rocking herself in the chair and moaning.

"You'll have to move from there, mother," said Elizabeth. "They'll be bringing him in. Come in the rocker."

The old mother rose mechanically, and seated herself by the fire, continuing to lament. Elizabeth went into the pantry for another candle, and there, in the little penthouse under the naked tiles, she heard them coming. She stood still in the pantry doorway, listening. She heard them pass the end of the house, and come awkwardly down the three steps, a jumble of shuffling footsteps and muttering voices. The old woman was silent. The men were in the yard.

Then Elizabeth heard Matthews, the manager of the pit, say : "You go in first, Jim. Mind !"

The door came open, and the two women saw a collier backing into the room, holding one end of a stretcher, on which they could see the nailed pit-boots of the dead man. The two carriers halted, the man at the head stooping at the lintel of the door.

"Wheer will you have him ?" asked the manager, a short, white-bearded old man.

Elizabeth roused herself and came from the pantry carrying the unlighted candle.

"In the parlour," she said.

"In there, Jim !" pointed the manager, and the carriers backed round into the tiny room. The coat with which they had covered the body fell off as they awkwardly turned through the two doorways, and the women saw their man, naked to the waist, lying stripped for work. Immediately the old woman began to moan in a low voice, "My boy !"

"Lay th' stretcher at th' side," snapped the manager, an' put 'im on th' cloths. Mind now, mind ! Look you now ---- !"

One of the men had knocked off a vase of chrysanthemums. He stared awkwardly, then they set down the stretcher. Elizabeth did not look at her husband. As soon as she could get in the room, she went and picked up the broken vase and the flowers.

"Wait a minute !" she said.

The three men waited in silence while she mopped up the water with a duster.

"Eh, what a job, what a job, to be sure !" the manager was saying, rubbing his brow with trouble and perplexity. "Never knew such a thing in my life, never ! They'd no business to ha' left 'im. I never knew such a thing in my life ! Fell over him clean as a whistle, an' shut him in. Not ten feet of space, there wasn't -- yet it never bruised him."

He looked down at the dead man, lying serene, half naked, all grimed with coal-dust.

" ' 'Sphyxiated,' the doctor said. " I never knew anything like it. It seems as if it was done o' purpose. Clean over him, an' shut 'im in, like a vault " -- he made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

"It wor that !" corroborated one of the men.

They forced the horror of the thing upon the woman's imagination.

"Steady, Missis!" said the manager. "It's a bad job, I know it is, but ---- "

Then they heard the girl's voice upstairs calling shrilly : "Mother, mother -- who is it ? Mother, who is it ?"

Elizabeth hurried to the foot of the stairs and opened the door :

"Go to sleep !" she commanded sharply. "What are you shouting about? Go to sleep at once -- there's nothing ---- "

Then she began to mount the stairs. They could hear her on the boards, and on the plaster floor of the little bedroom. They could hear her distinctly :

"What's the matter now ? -- what's the matter with you, silly thing ?" -- her voice was much gentler than when she had called at the foot of the stairs.

"I thought it was some men come," said the plaintive voice of the child.

"They only brought your father home. There's nothing to make a fuss about. Go to sleep now, like a good child."

They could imagine her smoothing the bedclothes over the shoulders of the soothed children.

"Is he drunk ? " asked the girl, timidly, faintly.

"No ! Don't be silly. He -- he's asleep."

"Is he asleep downstairs ? "

"Yes -- and don't wake him."

There was silence for a moment, then the men heard the frightened child again :

"What's that noise ? Is it him asleep ?"

"Yes ! He's all right, what are you bothering for ?"

The noise was the grandmother moaning. She was quite oblivious of everything, sitting on her chair rocking and moaning. The manager put his hand on her arm and bade her "Sh -- sh ! !"

The old woman opened her eyes and looked at him. She was shocked by this interruption, so she became quiet.

"What time is it ?" -- the plaintive thin voice of the child, sinking back into sleep, asked this last question.

"Ten o'clock," answered the mother softly. Then she must have bent down and kissed the children.

Matthews beckoned to the men to come away. They put on their caps and took up the stretcher. Stepping over the body, they tiptoed out of the house. None of them spoke till they were far from the wakeful children.