blacklegs arenât a bad lot. Just desperate starving men.â
âWork for management and youâll be white shirted like that poor man today.â
âI know.â
âI canât bear to think of that happening to you, Tom.â She looked up at him but he was a shadow in the darkness and she couldnât read the expression on his face.
âEverything I told you about Ma dying and having nothing to keep me in Ireland was true. The landlord didnât want me staying on in Maâs cottage. The rent is a quarter of what the farm produces in a year and heâd get more out of a young family than a single man. I told my sisters to share out Ma and Paâs few sticks of furniture, not that any of them were worth much. All I was left with was the clothes on my back and, after I paid for Maâs funeral not a penny to my name. As it was, I had to sleep under my eldest sisterâs table for a week to work off some of the cost of the funeral by digging the priestâs garden.â
âWas that when you signed the contract with the colliery management?â
âThat came later after I walked to Cork. I had hoped to find work there, but there was nothing going. Men were fighting one another for an hourâs work unloading ships on the docks. Thatâs when someone told me there was an agent from Wales recruiting men for the coal mines. Iâd heard a bit about what it was like here because my uncle had written a few letters to Ma and Pa over the years. He said conditions were terrible underground. But I thought it was too good an opportunity to miss when the agent offered to pay my passage. He promised Iâd get two pounds a week while I worked in the pit.â
âThey promised to pay you two pounds a week?â Amy was stunned. At the best of times her father had only brought home one pound ten shillings. And he was a highly skilled man.
âThey said theyâd have to take a pound a week from my wages for my keep and to pay back the cost of travelling here. But even so, I thought that if I worked here for a year Iâd save enough to buy my ticket to America and have money in my pocket when I got there.â
Amy grabbed his arm when she heard footsteps. They moved further back against the wall. The footsteps drew nearer and nearer. Amyâs heart was pounding so loudly she was sure whoever it was would hear it outside the ruin.
The footsteps passed and she weakened in relief. Tom wrapped his arms around her.
âIâm so sorry. I love you and all Iâve brought you is trouble.â
She lifted her face to his. He brushed his lips over hers, so gently and lightly, she couldnât be sure heâd kissed her. Then, as she drew even closer to him and locked her hands around his neck, he pressed his lips down harder. The cold, the night, the fear of discovery, even thoughts of the future faded. She could think of nothing except Tom and his kisses.
New and wonderful feelings coursed through her body. Nothing had made her feel as alive as Tomâs caresses. Her entire life had been building up to this one moment. And now it had arrived, it was perfect. She and Tom belonged together. Nothing â not even colliery management and the strikers could change that.
Tom went to the ruined doorway and looked out. âThereâs no one about. Iâll walk you back.â
âWhen will I see you again?â
âIf can get away Iâll come to your window tomorrow night and throw up a stone as I did tonight.â
âHow did you know it was my window and not my brothers?â
âBecause the window over the front door always belongs to the smallest room. I didnât think your Pa would make five boys sleep there.â
âYou took a risk.â
âYouâre here, with me. It was worth it.â
âTom, what are we going to do?â she asked as she thought of her father and the stern warning he had given her not to see
Learning to Kill: Stories