A Million Tears by Paul Henke Read Free Book Online Page B

‘I’ll get him a blanket, Evan, and some hot tea. He may as well stay now he’s been here this long. It can’t be long now . . .’ she tailed off, looking towards the school, now lighted by dozens of miners’ lamps and oil fired wall lamps from the mine. The blackness, pierced with the flickering yellow lamps casting deeper shadows in the slag, was like a scene from Hell. The slag blackened men and women making then look like insubstantial ghosts as they worked in silence.
    The quiet came to a shattering end when the first child’s body was brought out. Someone screamed and then they all started, crying, moaning, cursing.
    Each small form was identified, covered with a blanket and taken by the family to the chapel.
    Da was kneeling alongside me and with a sense of shock I realised he was shaking with silent sobs, the tears washing white streaks on his blackened face. Mam bent down, took his hand and pulled him to his feet. With her arm around him I watched as they walked away. I called Sion back in time as he made to follow them, knowing somehow that they needed to be alone.
    Sometime during that period I had begun to call Mr Price Uncle James and as I sat there his arm was a comfort. Sion sat on the other side and I put my arm around his shoulders. Like me he appeared to have cried all the tears he had in him. We sat like that for God knows how long. Time passed slowly as we watched the small bodies being carried out from the first classroom.
    Husbands and wives stood side by side, some holding hands and trying to find comfort in their contact. Some families had lost one, some two children. One family had lost three. In silent procession once the bodies had been claimed, the families made their way to the river, across the bridge and up the hill to the chapel. A million tears were shed that night.
    Twenty-two bodies were brought out from the first classroom. After that there was a lull as the men carried on towards the next room of death. The gang which had entered the study had now worked their way into the classroom opposite. It was the empty one, apart from Sian, the children having been for a walk. Mam and Da went to meet the miner who brought her out and handed her still form silently to Da. We got to our feet and followed as they put her in a blanket and started towards the Chapel. I was incapable of crying but Sion sobbed his heart out as we stumbled along in the dark. Uncle James swept Sion up in his arms and carried him.
    I walked besides Da, Mam on the other side. Sian was completely hidden by the blanket, a shapeless bundle of grey. I would no longer hear her high pitched squeal, whether of delight or anger, or hear her telling us to hurry because she was hungry. I realised what my parents were going through and with the realisation came more tears. This time they were not for Sian. They were for Mam and Da.
    At the chapel Mam and Da went inside with the others but Sion and I were told in no uncertain terms to go home. This time there was no argument. Uncle James took us.
    Sion went directly to bed but I had to wait and have a hot bath. It was four thirty in the morning and by then I was shivering continuously.

4

    When I woke it was to find the doctor with his hand on my forehead. Mam was behind him looking drawn and worried, her eyes red rimmed. Da stood at the foot of the bed, his face haggard, his mouth set in a grim line. I gave a harsh, dry cough, accidentally spitting out phlegm.
    ‘Sorry Mam,’ I said hoarsely, as the three of them looked at the rusty coloured sputum. Mam quickly wiped it away.
    ‘Hush Dai,’ Mam soothed, ‘it’s nothing. Here, let me prop you up.’ She fussed with my pillow and then gave me the one from Sian’s bed.
    ‘Now Dai,’ said the doctor, ‘tell me, do you have any pain across here?’ he indicated my chest.
    I nodded. ‘A bit,’ I admitted. I found it difficult to breathe comfortably but I did not say anything.
    The doctor took my pulse. ‘You’re going to