Songbird Read online

  He was on his feet in an instant. “I do beg your pardon,” he said in a voice that was as smooth as syrup.

  I was angry even though I took his arm as he helped me to stand. “You did that on purpose.”

  “I assure you I didn’t! I didn’t even see you.”

  “Well, what a stupid thing to do,” I said, rubbing my bruised elbow and trying to remove the bits of grass from my mouth.

  He smiled and pulled a daisy from my hair. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, but no thanks to you.”

  That was our first meeting and we went our separate ways. But he was in chapel that Sunday when I sang the first verse of the final hymn and after the service, Papa introduced us and I was more than surprised to find that Mr Daniel Asquith had come from Leicester to work for my father as the mineralogist in his mine.

  The village of Cwmdare was small and consisted of only fifty-three families. Of these, eighty-nine of the men worked down my father’s coal mine. It wasn’t a big mine by any standards, but it was the only means of income for the families and I had been born and brought up in a large house that was set back and further up the hill from the village. From the side of the house, we could see the tiny miners’ cottages and in the distance the large wheel that winched the miners up and down the main shaft. Anyone would have said it was a dirty place and very grim, but I didn’t notice. It was all part of the fabric of my life.

  My mother had been a governess and met my father when he was visiting Swansea. She was English and had no family and Papa said they had fallen in love immediately. He brought her back to Cwmdare where they settled down happily together.

  Gwilym was born first and then I came along two years later, but my mother was determined that she would tutor us and I believe we had an excellent education, learning all the basic subjects including French. But from being very small we were bilingual, learning English from Mama and Welsh from Papa. Eventually, Gwilym was sent to Eton, but I missed him terribly while he was away and lived for the holidays when he came home.

  Mama’s death when I was fourteen devastated us and Papa withdrew into himself for almost six months leaving our care in the capable hands of Mrs Morgan, our housekeeper. Thankfully, he finally emerged from his shell of mourning and picked up the pieces of his life. My education might have come from a number of sources, but my singing voice certainly came from my father. His rich baritone would echo round the house and if I were in the vicinity, I would sing back in answer much to the amusement of Mrs Morgan and the other servants.

  It was only a matter of time before Daniel became part of my life too. He was a constant visitor to the house and would regale us with stories of his childhood in Leicestershire. I hadn’t been out of Wales and the furthest I had travelled was when we spent a holiday at the seaside, but that was when my mother was still alive and only twice at that.

  By Christmas Daniel and I had fallen in love and in May 1883 we were married in the chapel and my new husband moved in with me. It was at our wedding that I first met Nan.

  She was a good seven years older than Daniel and lived in London, sharing a small house with a friend. I liked her the moment I set eyes on her and she immediately gave Daniel and me an open invitation to visit her. We would have to stay in a hotel, she said with a stern expression, since her home was far too small to accommodate guests. But she would be delighted to show us the sights of London. We agreed it would be wonderful to see the capital, especially since Daniel had never been there either. Unfortunately, the next time I met Nan it was under much different circumstances.

  Those first months of our marriage were so happy especially when Gwilym was home on a visit. He had just started his medical studies at St Bartholomew’s Hospital in London, so it was rare when he could spare the time to travel into Wales. When he did, he would add to the stories I was constantly hearing from my new husband and I began to believe that life outside my hometown must be exciting.

  Daniel loved my singing and after dinner he would insist that I sit at the piano and sing for them. The fact that Papa always dozed off didn’t trouble me one bit. He always did that and there was comfort in the familiarity of the event, a familiarity I would sorely miss in time to come.

  And when Daniel and I were in bed together we would make plans for the future. He spoke of his ambitions for us to go to London, not only to visit his sister but also perhaps, settle down there so that I could attend the academy and train as a classical singer. When I questioned him about what he would do while I was busy with my studies, he pointed out that he could work in a school or university or even a museum. Whatever happened, he believed that I would become famous and he would describe in minute detail, how I would be exalted all over the country, perhaps even the world. And he would sit in the audience and clap until his hands were raw while I took my bow and was presented with the obligatory flower bouquet. His faith in me made me love him all the more and as he wrapped his arms round me and we snuggled under the covers together, I believed that I had a husband in a million.

  When I found I was pregnant we were ecstatic. It had all happened so easily that I was swept off my feet, my baby due only ten months after our wedding day. We looked forward to the happy event and Papa and Gwilym eagerly awaited the new member of the family.

  We felt the explosion under our feet before the roar swept over the village. And then the wail of the siren told us what we had dreaded. I looked out of the window and the street below me was filled with women and children running towards the pit-head.

  I made for the door but Mrs Morgan pulled me back. “Oh no, you don’t, young missy. You stay here and I’ll let you know what’s happened.”

  I did as I was told and watched as she pulled a shawl over her head and headed for the door. She was down the path and away before I could think what to do. Soon she was swallowed by the mass of people hurrying towards the mine. I couldn’t stay still for long. I was six months pregnant, but I was healthy and I couldn’t see anything wrong with following her.

  At the pit-head it was chaos as the women begged for information and the men who had volunteered for the rescue party prepared to descend the shaft. Yes, there had been an explosion we were told, although we already knew that, but no one was sure what had happened. The large wheel was turning bringing the cage up and within minutes the doors opened and the men from the shift fell out into the fresh air. Their faces were black and yet I could still see the terror in their eyes. They thought it was methane gas seepage that had caused the explosion, but through their garbled account we realised that water was pouring in and the mine was starting to flood.

  The rescuers descended the shaft and a while later more miners from the shift came up. They told us that a rock fall had trapped nine men and although they had tried to dig them out they realised that there was a good fifteen feet of rock to remove. They could hear them tapping from behind the fall so they knew they were still alive. Fifteen feet of rock didn’t sound too much and I felt confident that the rescuers would free them quickly. When I looked around I realised that my father wasn’t there and I would have thought his presence would be sorely needed at that time. I decided to climb the metal stairs to the office and see what he was doing.

  Opening the door, I collided with Mr Evans the mining clerk, who was just on his way to the mine head. His face was ash white.

  “Where’s Papa?” I asked, looking round the untidy office.

  Mr Evans licked his lips. “He went down, Mrs Asquith. He went with your husband to look at a new lode.” I opened my mouth to speak but couldn’t. I turned and started down the stairway. Mr Evans gripped my arm. “Steady there, we don’t want you to take a tumble.”

  He returned with me to the pit-head and it was he who questioned a miner and discovered that my father and husband were two of the nine men trapped behind the rock fall.

  The next few hours were dreadful. Mr Price arrived and brought the comfort and reassurance that only a minister can offer. Mrs Morgan organised
the women into making tea and sandwiches and I helped a group to tear some old sheets into bandages. After two hours, a fresh group of rescuers went down and the first group came to the surface, their black faces streaked with sweat, their bodies shaking with fatigue. They collapsed against the wall of the wheelhouse while the womenfolk brought them hot drinks. From them I learnt that they could still hear the trapped men and they were digging a tunnel through the rock in order to get them out. It was slow but steady, their only concern was the water level that was continually rising. They were already working ankle deep in the icy water that came down from the mountains.

  It was bitterly cold and as darkness fell the air became icy, turning our breath into white mist. It was only five days until Christmas and as we all worked together, the grim expressions on people’s faces showed their feelings. But I kept a dogged faith in the rescue parties. They would do all they could to free the men and then we would all enjoy Christmas Day together. I don’t remember starting to sing The First Noel but suddenly everyone was joining in and with our singing our spirits lifted. It was Christmas and surely no one would die at this special time of year?

  The rescuers worked in shifts, each group bringing more news when they came up in desperate need for rest and sustenance. The trapped men were obviously working on their side as they could hear the sound of pick and shovel. They would break through in two hours or so they kept saying. But two hours stretched to four and then six. Finally, eight hours had passed and still there was no sign of the rescue coming to an end.

  Thirteen hours into the rescue the news was shouted that the trapped men had been reached and they had crawled or been pulled through the opening in the rock fall. They were being brought to the surface and we waited for them to emerge from the metal cage that carried them to safety. Seven exhausted men appeared all being helped along by a rescuer and their wives and mothers gave a cry of relief as they ran to them. Blankets were placed round quivering shoulders and hot drinks forced down their throats as they all sank to their knees. They had stood to their waists in treacherously cold water, slicing and cutting through the boulders that trapped them, desperately hoping that time would be on their side. I heard the winding gear turning again and knew that the cage was going down for the remaining rescuers and also Papa and Daniel. They would want to see the men away first before coming up themselves. I waited eagerly for the lift to appear once more. And when it did I saw only the last of the rescue party, their Davy lamps glowing like dancing fireflies.

  I gripped the arm of one man. “Where’s my papa and husband?” I asked, my heart pounding in my head. He didn’t answer so I repeated the question. He still didn’t answer.

  Mr Price took over the investigation for me and sought out the rescue leader. “Mr Pritchard and Mr Asquith?” I heard him say.

  The leader bent to whisper something in his ear and even in the light from the numerous lanterns I could see the minister’s face turn pale. He called Mrs Morgan over and whispered in her ear. My thoughts became numb, my mind trying to push away the terrifying truth that was starting to scream in my head.

  Mrs Morgan came across to me. “We can’t do anything here now. Let me take you home. We must think of that baby of yours.”

  She took my arm but I pulled away from her. “I want to know what’s happened to Papa and Daniel,” I said, my voice almost a whisper.

  “They’re not coming out, my dear. You must come home with me.”

  I wasn’t aware of shrieking or running to the rescue leader and begging him to tell me what had happened. I could barely make out his words and Mr Price had to explain to me that seven men had been pulled through the opening they had cut in the rock. Seven men and no more. Unsatisfied, I stumbled to each of the rescued men and through their babble I discovered that Papa and Daniel had gone to investigate an abandoned roadway that had been partially closed with wooden boards. Daniel believed that there was more coal there than had been previously thought. That was where they were when the explosion happened. Whether they had been caught in the blast, or been drowned, no one could tell me.

  Despite Mr Price and Mrs Morgan’s efforts to persuade me to come away, I ran back to the leader and in a hysterical state clung onto his grimy jacket pleading for him to go down again and find them. I fell to my knees and he tried to lift me to my feet, shaking his head and telling me that it was impossible as the water had now flooded the mine and there was no way of reaching them. They were dead and beyond any human help.

  I don’t remember being carried home. Only Mrs Morgan’s gentle voice seeped into my conscious mind as she undressed me and put me to bed. That was the worst night of my life and had I died in my sleep, then I would have thanked God for being released from my pain.

  Mr Price was wonderful and became my source of comfort and help. He telegraphed Gwilym and Nan immediately and when they came through the door, I fell into their arms. We stood together and held each other close, as tears streamed down my face. And then Gwilym and Nan started crying with me and we were lost in our mutual grief.

  We didn’t have Christmas or a New Year. Gwilym, Mr Price and the mine clerk, Mr Evans, worked together to sort out the mess left over from the devastation. It was obvious the mine was finished. It would take a fortune to pump out the gallons of water that now claimed it. The mining inspectors came to investigate the accident and their conclusions were that a rogue spark, probably from a striking pick, had ignited a seepage of methane. The explosion had ripped open a crack and the gushing water had done the rest.

  In mid-January a memorial service was held in the chapel and afterwards I dropped a wreath of lilies down the mineshaft where the bodies of Papa and Daniel still lay. Nan left the day after that, sniffing into her handkerchief, her eyes red and swollen. Gwilym stayed to help Mr Evans sort out the finances. And that was when we found out that Papa had been deeply in debt.

  It seemed he had borrowed heavily to keep the mine going and after a long discussion with the bank manager we realised that everything would have to be sold to pay the debt. The land and house had to go, the workers dispersed to other mines. Thankfully, the bigger mines in Merthyr Tydfil were able to take the families, who packed up and left within the month. The place became a ghost town, but then we had a stroke of luck when the bank manager found a buyer for our house and land. The new owner wanted to knock down the houses and mine buildings and construct a factory. I didn’t ask what kind of factory. I didn’t care. We discovered that Papa had put some money aside for Gwilym’s medical studies, but there was nothing for me. I suppose he thought that having a husband meant I was looked after. And I suppose he never thought that Daniel would die before him, never mind with him. My husband had made a small investment that would give me an annuity, but otherwise my future lay in my own hands.

  As March came, I prepared for the birth of my baby. I was eighteen years old, a widow and in three months’ time, I would have to leave the home in which I had been born and raised. That spring of 1884 was to prove a testing time for me, but sometimes adversity can make a person stronger. And in the next few years, I was destined to discover not only my true potential but also the lengths I was willing to go, to realise my ambitions.

  CHAPTER THREE

  We passed through the main door of the academy, out into the wonderful sunshine and stood a while on the cobbles contemplating what had just happened. The other applicants milled about talking in hushed tones, before saying goodbye and hurrying on their way.

  “Life just isn’t fair sometimes,” I said sullenly.

  Stephanie smiled. “We’re not the only ones to be rejected.” She gestured toward the few young people who still lingered. “All these folk are just as disappointed.”

  It didn’t pacify me one bit. “If we came from affluent families, then we could just enrol as students without having to go through this palaver every year.”

  “But we’re not from affluent families,” she sighed.

  She was being too sensible to suit my
mood and I turned my head away. I had come from an affluent family once, or so I thought. And the idea that I had to plead my way into a place of learning hurt my pride. I could sing and I knew that the opera would give me an opportunity if I only had the training. I shrugged and tried to shake off the bitterness.

  We walked slowly through the park towards the omnibus, not speaking, both lost in our own thoughts.

  “I guess it’s back to teaching music for another year,” I said, breaking the silence.

  Stephanie gave me a sidelong glance. “I was meaning to tell you something.” She paused momentarily. “I’m getting married.”

  I stopped walking. “Mr Winter has proposed?” I asked and she nodded. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. I’ve seen this coming for a long while.” I kissed her cheek and smiled.

  Her eyes lit up like a hundred lamps. “I do love him and being a lawyer’s wife will give me some stability.”

  “What about your singing?”

  “I’ll sing lullabies when the time is right,” she laughed.

  On top of the omnibus we talked about her wedding that she planned for November. Nan was going to make her wedding gown in thick, ivory brocade since the weather would be cold by then. She wanted me to be her matron of honour and I agreed. I had liked Mr Winter the few times I had met him and he seemed devoted to Stephanie, jumping up from his seat if she needed her fan or shawl or another glass of punch. We kissed goodbye at the corner where the cobbler had his shop and I walked up Laurel Close with mixed feelings. Despite feeling happy for her, I knew that Stephanie had given up on her singing. It was becoming just too difficult to succeed and many before her had given up the effort and embarked on other occupations. Only the toughest made it and I wondered if I had the stamina to carry on.