First writings for NanNoWriMo

One Death, two weddings and some christenings




A novel
By David Vernon Goddard

First Draft starting on 1st November 2007

Version 1.0

©
DVG






Index for the novel

Section One
A death and the consequences


Section Two
Weddings are forever


Section Three
Christenings and all things bright













Section One
A death and its consequences



“And death shall have no dominion”

“Do not go gentle into that good night”

“Great is thy Faithfulness”



Chapter 1 ~ A Rising and a falling
Chapter 2 ~ Bad News travels fast
Chapter 3 ~ The funeral
Chapter 4 ~ Aftermath






















Chapter 1 ~ A rising and a Falling

At 5 a.m.Will raised himself on one arm, looked in the direction of Mary, saw she was still sleeping, and so slipped away from his side of the bed. He tip-toed out of the bedroom picking up his work clothes from the back of a chair. The lino floor was cold and unforgiving on his bare feet. He had placed his boots and long socks downstairs the night before in readiness for the early morning shift. He whistled because of the cold and just because it gave him some comfort. It was his favourite hymn.

Downstairs he was soon at work on the fire coaxing it into some kind of combustion. At last it burst into life ~ he was a dab hand at lighting a good fire. Now for the tea. As he finished dressing, the kettle boiled and finally it too whistled against the cold, only more loudly than Will had done. He reached for the sooted kettle and took it into the scullery before its song could wake any one else. Better to leave them all sleep for a little while longer. It was only a little after 5.10.a.m on an early November day dawning with a touch of frost on the trees and ground. “Better to let hem sleep,” he whispered to himself. He knew how hard they all worked, even the young ones.

The tea tasted good and the cup was hot in his hands and made them tingle. With his boots now on and the laces tied tight he was able to go outside. He slipped on his coat jacket and took a scarf out of its pocket.

He made for the small orchard at the side of the house and looked forward to picking some of the last of the apples still on a branch. It had been a clear bright and starry night. The black was turning a dark blue and there were some streaks of lightness on the horizons. The apples were ripe. It had been a good crop; they had taken many of them to the Harvest festival at the Church in Penllegaer. Will stood in the orchard vaguely happy at the mingled thoughts of apple, the tea in the kitchen and the smell of early morning out of doors. But then the cold crept alongside his thoughts and reminded him of the day before him. Don’t get too comfortable it said. You’ve got to get the boys up, sort out the dogs, take some tea to Mary and get yourself off to No 3. The last thought jolted him. It was not a comfortable or comforting thought.

Back in the scullery he finished off his tea and fought to get a little more life into the fire in the main room, which was dying on him. That done, he took some tea to Mary. She was still asleep so he woke her gently. “Time to get up,” he said. This ritual had been established early in their marriage so they were both so used to this encounter that nothing special was expected of either of them. For him, merely to bring the cup; for her merely to drink from it. There were no other expectations. After years of being together and after the birth of seven children and after years of struggling to make ends meet and after some heartbreak and after the growing demands of work and some tears there were only the rituals left. But they both adhered to them as if any loss of their place in their lives would disturb something deep down. Disturb something irrevocably. He left Mary to the task of getting up and went to the nearest bedroom. It was now 5.23 am and the new day was edging in.



“Time to get up,” he said to whoever was awake. Possibly Ewart or Cyril or Ronnie, or Elvet since all shared this room. He heard one of them stirring. “Tea downstairs,” he heard himself say. There was no answer from the greyness of the bedroom but he knew they’d all be downstairs within ten minutes, half-dressed for work and wanting more than the cup of tea he’d prepared. But then that was Mary’s job. Cooking and serving breakfast. As it was her job to wake up Mansel, Brenda and Archie long after he’d gone. He glanced up to a small pocket watch which hung on a nail above the fire. It was a fine silver watch which he had hung there after buying it in Swansea.It had just turned 5.30 am.

He made his way outside and through the allotment to the fenced area containing the dogs ~ two greyhounds bought from hard-earned wages in the hope of further winnings and glory. Neither had been forthcoming over the last 2 years but they had at least given him good company on his walks through Penllegaer woods and when he’d done the occasional poaching on Sir John Llewellyn’s land. And did they love him both wanting his attention as he went into the compound to feed them, both vying for the food and the new water. He’d take them for a long walk later this afternoon, when the morning shift was over. He’d go down to the common with Archie and Brenda and give everyone a run ~ it would be good for them all. Perhaps Mary would come.

But then he corrected himself because Mary never came with him and the dogs. She’d said they were a waste of money when they were bought. She’d chastised Will and Ewart for clubbing together to buy them.
She’d said, “At least with chickens , they lay eggs and you get to eat them. But these animals are stupid and they eat too much.” After that they were never allowed in the house and having never won a race she was proved right time after time.
Will stirred himself from these thoughts and repeated perhaps with a little gusto, “ Yes, girls, we’ll go for a little walk to the common this afternoon.” They licked him with affection.

It was 5.45 am when he reappeared in the scullery. Each of the boys greeted him with quiet respect and Mary, who was now busying herself with breakfast, asked what he wanted by way of food for his tin. When the tin had been filled with bread and cheese and he had poured some cold tea into his bottle he was ready to get off. Coat on and scarf around his neck he was off. “See you all later ,” he shouted as he closed the back door. He didn’t catch any reply but he did hear the dogs barking fondly at him as he made for the gate.

It was a short walk to No 3 which was the main Penllegaer colliery on the common .He walked briskly knowing he was just a little late from feeding the dogs. As he approached he could see other men gathering, clones of himself in different hues of grey or black clutching their snap-tins and having a last smoke. Dawn was now fulsome and he could clearly make out the outline of the colliery against the sky, could hear the sounds of workmen, the clanking of the small train and the trams.



And then suddenly the hooter calling them all together for a last search before the descent and another hard day at the face. Will talked to his friends as they took their turns in handing in the matches, cigarettes and other paraphernalia.

And too soon they were at the cage.
Will had never been totally comfortable in a cage ~ he walked forward, was carried forward until they were all in. Perhaps he was the only one with fears ~ the others never showed anything and he had never mentioned anything to them. But as they descended his apprehension grew until the relief of reaching the bottom and h comfort of stillness, a complete blackness and then the turning on of the individual lamps.

Will was noted and respected for his strength. If anyone wanted extra help, something moved, perhaps some brute force,, they called on William Goddard or as they called him when down the pit, Will “OneTon”. Will was ideally built for working down a mine: not tall, but very broad with a strong physique and muscled arms. It was reputed that when he really got going he could outpace all the other shift workers in cutting and gathering coal.

Today they would be opening a new seam and he would need all his strength in getting the coal shifted into the drams.

From the base of the cage they moved forward to the edge of what looked like an entrance to a cave but smaller. Lights flickered on surfaces or caught an eye or a nose. It was black and light, black on light, light reflecting black, light reflecting back.

From the base of the cage they moved forward to the edge of what looked like an entrance to a cave but smaller. Lights flickered on surfaces or caught an eye or a nose. It was black and light, black on light, light reflecting black, liht reflecting back.And in the blacllightnightday as they set off down the tunneled cave someone started to sing.

At first just on his own but then others joined in. They were singing “Great is thy faithfulness”, Will’s favourite hymn ~ the one he’d been whistling earlier..

They sang and echoed down the narrowing cave.:

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my father!
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not:


As thou hast been Thou forever wilt be.
Great is Thy faithfulness, Great is Thy faithfulness,
Morning by morning new mercies I see:
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided

Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!
Summer and winter, and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon and stars in their courses above,
Join with all nature in manifold witness

To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.
Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth.
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide,
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow

Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

They reached the end of the tunnel and were ready for the day’s work. The blasters had come ahead of them and were preparing to open a new seam, which, it was promised by the Pit manager, to be rich in the best anthracite and easy to pick.This was a good day and all the men were happy.