Chapter 22
I had to try and find Theo; I couldn’t just abandon him.
Les stayed with me and we walked back up to the makeshift car park, hoping Theo had been able to find his way back there to his waiting Mini.
There was a feeling of utter disbelief at what had happened that morning as those not martialled back down into the village of Orgreave by the police fled for their lives, hiding behind hedges and in ditches until they felt it safe to surface and be transported back to their own villages.
Lines of utterly demoralised bleeding and injured miners waited patiently to be driven back in the many coaches and private cars, too overwhelmed to speak, too shocked at being caught in a trap.
Les and I waited for hours, Les slumped on the grass in the shade of the wall next to Theo’s car, as I patrolled the area around the field, praying that he would appear and be able to drive back to Leeds.
Eventually, when it seemed unlikely that this was going to be the case, I made the decision to walk down into Orgreave itself and ask at the police station there.
Desperately thirsty but not having the foresight to bring any water with us, Les and I trailed down into the village.
‘Oy, don’t go down there,’ a retreating miner warned us.
‘Get yourselves off home. They’re still knocking seven bells out of anyone who looks to have been involved.
And they’re holding people in a temporary detention centre they’ve set up.
’ He pointed over his shoulder. ‘Down opposite yonder coking plant. I’ve just had a word with someone they’ve charged and let out.
Says there were a line of police kicking and punching them as they filed through.
So, don’t you be going down there of your own accord. ’
‘I have to,’ I said to Les. ‘You don’t need to come in with me. I can say I’m looking for Theo. Find out if they know what’s happened to him.’
‘Jesus, I’m thirsty,’ Les said, nodding. ‘How about we ring Dad?’
‘What for?’
‘Well, tell him what’s happened. Or, I know, let’s ring John Dyson. You’ve got his number.’
‘I’m not ringing that man ever again. The union must have had some idea this was all going to kick off…’ I paused, my throat so dry I could hardly speak. ‘Have you any money on you? To ring Dad? And what do you think he’s going to do to help?’
‘Well, Mum then. She could get Uncle Maurice to drive over and pick us up.’
‘Les, I’m not going anywhere until I know what’s happened to Theo.’
‘You don’t think he’s… you know… dead?’
My heart lurched. ‘Les, you saw him, you saw him go under a horse, you said…’
‘It all happened so quick, Anna,’ he said miserably.
‘You should have stayed,’ I hissed, punching his arm viciously. ‘You should have bloody well stayed and helped him. See what happened to him.’
‘I tried,’ Les said. ‘Honest, Anna. And then they were hitting me with everything they had. I don’t know how I managed to get away from them.’
I realised then, all the stuffing had gone out of him, that Les was in shock.
His head, he said, was hammering and I wondered if he’d some sort of concussion.
We were both in danger of becoming dehydrated, and as we approached a corner shop I asked him again what money he had.
Together we were able to pool a couple of coins and bought a bottle of pop to share, as well as keeping some back if we needed to ring Dad.
‘You stay here, Les,’ I warned. ‘They’ll take one look at you and know what you are.’
‘What I am?’
‘You know exactly what I mean.’
An hour later, and I finally managed to get through the crowd of detained men and arresting officers to speak to someone who wouldn’t even lift his head from his ledger to acknowledge me. Although, when I eventually spoke, at the sound of a female voice, he deigned to look up.
Nothing doing, he said. No one of the name of Theo Mandeville had been brought in.
Part of me considered pulling rank and explaining that he was the son of Lord and Lady Mandeville and had got caught up in all this by mistake but thought better of it.
The last thing Theo – and his family – would want was a sensational piece in the papers.
‘Are you sure?’ I kept asking, near to tears.
‘Nope, sorry. He’s probably scarpered and on his way home now, having his tea and with his feet up.’
‘But his car is still here.’
He shook his head and shouted, ‘Next!’
I turned, crying now, when one of the older men sitting on the floor stood and took my arm.
‘Theo? Fair hair? Student?’
‘Yes, yes.’ I grabbed at his hand.
‘Badly hurt, love. Got himself in front of a horse. A couple of us managed to get him off to the side where he got taken off.’
‘Taken off? He was arrested?’
‘Ambulance came for him. He was pretty much out of it, but we managed to find his driving licence so could identify him. Didn’t look – or sound – at all like a miner. Rotherham General, I’d guess.’
‘Right, Les,’ I said, once I was back out in the glare of the hot late afternoon. ‘We need to find a phone box and ring Mum and ask her to get Uncle Maurice to pick us up. Then I need to ask to borrow some money so I can get a taxi to the hospital…’
‘Where’s Mum going to get money for a taxi?’
‘I’ll pay her back with next week’s wages. I’ve got to get to Theo.’
Over an hour later, Uncle Maurice’s Ford Cortina came over the brow of the hill. Dad was sitting at the front and Mum in the back. Apparently, Aunty Sandra had got her best shoes on and been ready to come too until she realised there would be the two of us to fit in as well.
‘Oh, Leslie,’ Mum said, shocked into giving him his best Sunday handle. ‘What have you done?’
‘What have I done?’ Les was indignant. ‘What have they done? To us? Mum, it was a massacre.’
‘Aye, I heard. A load of ’em managed to get back to The Alamo. And it were on t’news at six.’
‘Please, please, please, I need to get to the hospital,’ I interrupted. ‘Theo’s been hurt.’
‘Theo has?’ Mum and Dad spoke as one, both turning together, staring at me.
‘He didn’t go with you?’ Mum was horrified. ‘You didn’t take him as well? No! What on earth for?’
‘Mum, he saved me,’ Les now said, rubbing at his tired eyes. ‘He pushed me out of the way before I went under a flaming great horse. He said he knew about horses. If he hadn’t, it’d be me at the hospital.’
‘Jasna cholera!’ Dad always reverted back to his native Polish when he was angry. ‘He our guest! We look after him, feed him, drink him and then you two take him to danger where he end up in ’ospital? What matter with you two?’
‘Anna, have you told his parents?’
‘His parents?’
‘His parents, yes!’ Mum was getting angry herself. ‘Anna, what have you done?’
‘Let’s get to the hospital,’ Uncle Maurice said, trying to calm the waters. ‘Which one?’
‘I don’t know,’ I wailed.
‘Probably Rotherham General. Let’s try it. It’s just five miles or so.’ Uncle Maurice reversed carefully and we set off.
Uncle Maurice’s blue Cortina was his pride and joy; he washed and polished it every Sunday without fail, but God, he was one cautious driver, slowing down for every bump, driving under the 30 mph limit, and I wanted to scream at him to put his foot down.
We were all so tense we didn’t speak until Mum said, ‘Anna, you ring his mother when you find out what’s happened. ’
‘But I don’t know them,’ I said. ‘What do I say?’
‘You’ve spent a weekend with them,’ Mum snapped. ‘Of course you know them. So, we find out what’s happened, and then you ring them and you tell them the truth.’
The truth? That my striking miner family had taken the heir to Mandeville Hall off on a jolly away-day riot and, oh dear, I’m afraid he got clobbered by the police? He might even be… I closed my eyes against the awful thought. Oh, Jesus…
Twenty minutes later, looking like something out of My Family and Other Miners, we exited the car as I looked wildly around for A & E.
Mum was shouting instructions to go one way, Dad shouting in Polish to go the other, with Uncle Maurice telling us to go straight ahead, he’d been there before when he was so constipated he thought he’d die from the need to have a proper shit.
As Les, now with a black eye and blood on his white T-shirt, slid from the car, wincing that his head hurt and would we all stop effing shouting, I saw I wouldn’t have to ask Directory Enquiries for Mandeville Hall after all.
Sir Hugh and Lady Mandeville, in all their sedate upper-class glory, were ahead of us, walking towards reception. Ava, dressed in a cool beige linen dress and heels, turned at the commotion behind her, stopped and stared, placing a restraining hand on her husband’s arm.
‘Oh, Mrs Mandeville… Lady Mandeville,’ I corrected myself. ‘You’ve heard? How is Theo? Have you seen him?’
Mum came hurrying on behind, out of breath as she shot out a hand to Theo’s mother.
‘I’m so sorry, love,’ she panted. ‘We’ve only just heard.
How is he? He’s such a lovely lad. He had a picnic with us only last night.
Up at th’allotment in t’sunshine… We made him some Polish stuff.
My husband’s Polish…’ It’s not often I’d seen my mum nervous, but she was now and trailed off, wilting under the Mandevilles’ haughty gaze.
I realised she still had on her apron and ancient flip-flops, the bunion on her left foot seeking freedom from the footwear.
‘I’m so sorry.’ I tried to calm down, speak slowly. ‘Do you know how he is? Is he badly hurt?’
‘We know very little,’ Ava said, ignoring Mum and the other members of my travelling circus who had now gathered around them. ‘The hospital rang us a couple of hours ago after they found Theodore’s details on his driving licence.’
‘May I come in with you?’ I asked in my most polite voice.
‘I’d rather you didn’t.’ Hugh Mandeville spoke for the first time. There was no friendly kiss on the cheek for me on this, our second meeting.
‘I really need to know how he is,’ I pleaded. ‘This is all my fault and…’