Chapter 17 #2
‘Part of the Women’s Action Group. They’re trying to raise money for the strike and they’re planning on putting a pie and pea supper on in some pub beer garden.
You know, something for the kids. Probably get a bouncy castle and the like.
Half the houses on the street have promised to soak and cook the dried peas for her for the bank holiday weekend. ’
‘What about Dad?’
‘Oh, he’s helping as well. She’s got everyone at it. Some women in the action group’ve been invited to meet Neil Kinnock an’ all. Over in Leeds.’
‘Right, good.’
‘I hope you’re going to do your bit, Anna. It’ll be me and my mates, and any kids we have, who won’t have jobs down t’mine if Thatcher gets her way.’
‘I know, I know.’
‘But do you know?’ Les insisted. ‘Do you know how much the DHSS is giving to miners’ wives to feed and clothe their kids?’
‘I do,’ I said. ‘Of course I do.’ I knew all about it, working at the NUM office.
‘Six pounds fifty a week, Anna.’
‘No,’ I said, staring. ‘It’s more than that.’
‘Aye, twenty-one pounds fifty each miner’s wife is supposed to get on supplementary benefit, but the government have said fifteen of that is to be deducted because the union will make up the rest out of its funds.
How many families are actually getting that money back from the union?
I reckon it’s something you should be asking when you’re in your office, sitting at your desk, playing at being a secretary. ’
‘I will, Les, I will, I promise.’
‘Well, make sure you do, instead of filling your head with the likes of the bloke you’ve been with this weekend. And Mum needs a hand with this pie and pea thing the weekend after next. You know, May bank holiday.’
‘That weekend? I’m not sure I’m going to be here. I’m off to Leeds, I think.’
‘Right. As I said, Anna, remember your roots.’
The following Friday evening my plan was to leave the office as soon as I could and take the bus down to the train station in the city centre.
There’d been meetings going on amongst the union top brass all day, and there was a real frisson of something coming to a head – and I was kept busy making gallons of coffee as well as being sent out for sandwiches as more and more of those in charge of the union arrived and were chivvied into the main meeting room.
In there, the room was thick with cigarette smoke, testosterone and sweat, the curtains drawn against the beautiful late spring afternoon, and as I wasn’t being asked to do my usual routine jobs, I was able to spend the day getting on with ideas and research for my final-year dissertation.
I was so buoyed up at the prospect of seeing Theo, at actually spending the night with him in Leeds, I felt feverish with excitement.
I’d spent the last hour clockwatching, going to the loo to adjust my make-up, squirting deodorant, breath freshener and probably too much Opium.
Were my legs still stubble free? I bent down, smoothing hand cream onto my shins, admiring my white cotton jumpsuit rolled up to the knees and my new navy espadrilles in the long, fly-blown mirror behind the door.
‘Got problems with the old waterworks?’ Linda grinned at me on my return from the umpteenth visit to the ladies’. ‘You’re looking good, love. Got a hot date with the Lord of the Rings again?’
‘Rings?’
‘Well, I bet you’re hoping for one! A ring?
Get it? All right, lord of the manor.’ She laughed outright at that, and several heads glanced over in my direction, including that of John Dyson who’d that minute exited the meeting room.
I tutted at Linda, as more heads in the large open office turned, but nodded.
I couldn’t keep my excitement at being with Theo to myself.
Dyson had been keeping me longer and longer in the office all that week, asking me to go over some figures, to look for papers he’d instructed me to file the previous day, to make him a coffee, asking me to type up (two fingered – I still wasn’t making much progress with teaching myself to type on the ancient Underwood) what I felt to be mainly irrelevant notes.
So when I picked up my overnight case and made to leave, John arrived at my side; I was sure it was deliberate on his part, trying to get me alone once everyone else had left for the weekend.
‘If you’d just file these away for me, Anna.’ He handed me a bundle of union stuff, sat on my desk, one leg on, one leg dangling a shiny brogue, and folded his arms.
‘I’ll do them on Monday,’ I said, not looking at him. ‘I’ve a bus to catch in ten minutes.’
‘But I’d like them done now. You know, everything tidied away from prying eyes.’
‘Prying eyes?’ I looked directly at him as he continued to sit on my desk, a sardonic smile on his handsome face.
Jesus, how could I have gone out with him so long?
Had consensual sex with this man, in his pinstriped suit and shiny black shoes?
I smelt a whiff of stale sweat mixed with a too heady aftershave as well as alcohol.
Dyson had obviously been at his hip flask during the day-long meeting.
‘This is important stuff.’ He smiled. ‘Anyone could get their hands on it; the whole UK mining industry is at war with this bloody government.’
‘Well, if Ian MacGregor or that awful David Hart are hiding behind the curtains ready to jump out and read your notes that I’m refusing to file, then you can blame me.
’ I shoved the bundle back in Dyson’s direction.
‘If you’re that worried they’re going to fall into the wrong hands, then put them in your desk, lock it up and swallow the key. I need to go…’
John reached out a hand, but instead of taking the papers he clasped it tightly round my wrist, pulling me towards him.
‘Come on, Anna,’ he wheedled, ‘come and have a drink with me. It’s the weekend, for heaven’s sake.
I’ve a bottle of Glenfiddich in my drawer…
’ He suddenly lunged at me, dropping the – oh so important – papers to the floor where they fanned out around the base of the desk and chair.
‘Pick them up,’ he ordered as I managed to retrieve my hand from his grasp.
‘Bloody well pick them up yourself,’ I snapped. ‘It’s after five thirty and I’m off.’
‘But we had a good time together, you and me.’ John’s breathing became shallow as he pushed me back against the desk, his brogues slipping slightly on the fallen papers.
‘A little drink – get us in the mood for the weekend.’ One hand came up around my throat, the other reaching for my groin, fumbling at buttons on my jumpsuit.
‘Come on, you horny little bitch,’ he breathed in my ear, ‘you’ve been leading me on all week, wiggling that gorgeous arse of yours past my desk, trying to catch my eye… ’
And that’s when I lost it.
‘In your dreams,’ I spat, bringing up my knee and making perfect and satisfying contact with John Dyson’s balls.
‘Don’t you ever come near me again or I’ll not only report you to whoever’s in charge round here…
’ I managed to get out the words although my breath was coming out in uncontrolled little spurts ‘…but my dad and my brother – both miners with short fuses at the moment – will be down to sort you out.’ I picked up the papers, placed them calmly into the metal wastepaper bin and kicked the whole thing at Dyson who was now curled up in a foetal position, holding on to his testicles.
I picked up my case and handbag and left.