Betsy, The Coalminer's Daughter

By Mary Peters

Times are hard in 1960's Wallsend, North Tyneside. Cola miner Fred Slater has lost his wife to cancer, leaving him to raise his 10-year-old son Tom and teenage daughter Betsy.

Keeping a promise to her dying mother, to look after her brother and dad, Betsy has to grow up quickly... starting with her first job. Taken under the wing of her first boss, Betsy learns to juggle workplace challenges and household chores.

With a charming naivety, she struggles with family commitments and her emotions, especially with that of her first love - Sam. But is Betsy brave enough to take risks and move on in her life...?

This heart-warming and engaging tale, beautifully capturing the lives of down-to-earth folk, is quite simply a joy to read!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Legend Press
• Release date: Aug 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781787190832

Book preview

Friends

The wind was howling and Betsy looked at her window which was covered in icicles and snow, remembering how life had been when her mother Mabel was alive. Mabel was always cheery and full of life, there were always hard times but she got on with it and managed to stay positive. Betsy pulled the quilt cover over her head and shed some tears – it was only a year ago when her mother had died of cancer of the stomach and she knew in her heart that life would never be the same again.

Tom, her brother, who was ten years of age at the time, cried for weeks. He was misbehaving at school by punching any boy or girl who came in the firing line till Miss Smith, the head teacher, helped him cope by having a heart-to-heart chat with him at least twice a week. Gradually Tom settled down and was a good student who did well in class and had good reports, so his teacher had high hopes for him. He was intelligent and was good in most subjects. Tall for his age, with a mass of curly mousy hair, he was the spitting image of his dad – ‘a bonnie lad’ his mam would always comment.

Betsy on the other hand looked like her mam – quite chubby, plain features, brown hair with a fringe and it looked like a basin-cut when her mam had finished cutting it. There was no money in the pot to go to the hairdresser’s so her mam used to do it every few weeks, for all the family, because a hairdresser was a luxury she could ill afford.

Times were hard in the 1960’s Wallsend, North Tyneside, where the family lived. It was a mining community and there were rows of terraced houses built to house miners. Wallsend Colliery pit was a few miles from Newcastle, its coal known as black diamond. The most common causes of fatalities were from being crushed in the pit by falling stones and collapsing roofs, explosions, being crushed by wagons, or being run over by pit ponies.

Betsy, get up, her dad Fred shouted at the bottom of the stairs. I’ve made you a mug of tea, it’s on the kitchen table. I’m off to work, just you make sure Tom gets up for school on time.

I will, Dad, Betsy replied, and Fred put his bag of egg sandwiches and a flask of tea into his haversack and walked out the door into the freezing cold.

Betsy quickly got dressed. Her room was freezing and she woke Tom up who was none too pleased, he always made a fuss, I don’t want to go to school, Betsy.

Please yourself, Tom, but you know there will be all hell let loose when Dad comes home because you know I’ll tell him.

Reluctantly Tom got out of bed and got dressed. He wasn’t afraid of his dad but when his dad was annoyed he didn’t speak to Tom at all for a week. Tom thought the silence was worse than a good hiding which he had been given on one occasion when he had stolen a ball from the neighbour’s garden.

Betsy made Tom some toast and jam and was always relieved when she got him out the door so she could have more time to tidy up the house and lay the coal fire ready to light for the evening. There was a knock at the door and when she opened it her boss, Mrs Jones, stood there wrapped up in her fur hat and coat.

Come in, Betsy said, I’ll be ready in a minute. I think Dad should buy a new carpet sweeper, this one has had its day.

Mrs Jones worked in Boots, a small chemist shop, as a manageress with Betsy and a few other staff but the pharmacy side of the business was run by Mr Bill Granger – a short, bald, stocky man who wore heavy black spectacles and who had a counter at the back of the shop. He was in his late fifties, a bachelor who lived on his own after his mother and father died; a loner who didn’t like any interference from anyone, so Cathy left him to it.

Cathy Jones was a well-built fifty-year-old woman with short permed brown hair and small features and a lovely smile, and who lived on her own since her husband Colin had died from a heart attack at the pit four years ago. She was determined to treasure his memory but move on as he would have wanted her do and be happy, and considered herself blessed to have experienced married life to a wonderful man and would help anyone less fortunate than herself. Her biggest regret was that she had never had children of her own – sadly it was not to be, as after trying numerous hospitals and having tests done she finally accepted her fate. However, she had had a wonderful life with her beloved husband when he was alive. They were both hard-working folk, Colin held the position of a foreman and was well respected by all the men.

Betsy climbed into Mrs Jones’ old Morris Minor. Mrs Jones took a blanket from the back seat and told Betsy to put it over her legs – she felt sorry for Betsy and the family, even though she never knew them very well till her mam died and the street got involved by putting a spread on of sandwiches and cakes at the working men’s club for people who attended after the funeral. Her mam had had a good send-off, she was well-respected in the community and they all came together to help one another in times of need.

Thanks, Mrs Jones, so much for getting me this job and offering to give me a lift to work.

You’re welcome, Betsy, I can’t have you catching a bus every day, not in this weather, and I do enjoy the company, but I wish you would stop calling me Mrs Jones – Cathy will be fine, that sounds much more friendly, don’t you think?

Betsy was shocked. What, even when I’m working on the shop floor?

Why not? Cathy looked bemused.

I think the other girls won’t like it, they’ll be jealous; they don’t like me very much as it is and talk behind my back all the time and call me horrible names such as ‘Betsy the bull’. I think it’s because I am so fat.

Cathy looked at Betsy and gave her a smile. Aye, lass, that is cruel but if they give you any more bother come to my office and let me know – I will sort the buggers out, no worries.

They arrived at the shop and Cathy told Betsy to take her coat off and make them both a brew. A few minutes later the other three assistants arrived, one of them was Jenny – a thin, pretty girl with thick brown hair which she wore in plaits. Jenny worked well on the shop floor, she had a good speaking voice, was polite and full of self-confidence. She came from good stock as her mother was a teacher and her father worked in a bank, but being an only child she was used to being spoilt and having her own way.

Jessie, who had ginger hair cut short in a bob, was quite plain in looks and had attended the same school as Jenny. They were best friends and could not have been happier when they both applied for the job and were accepted. However, Jessie’s dad was not too impressed, at first he thought his little princess as he called her could work in an office rather than work in retail, which was a step up in his eyes as the money was better. Jessie’s parents owned a family butcher’s shop and business was doing well, so they were able to provide most things for her and her younger sister.

Mary was a different story. She had three younger brothers and her dad, Jack Wilson, worked down the pit. Money was tight, having six mouths to feed, and he was well known in the village as a trouble maker and womaniser. His daughter, Mary, was a good-natured girl who was shy and timid. She was a beauty with long blonde hair and blue eyes, very tall for her age but lacked self-confidence which Jessie and Jenny picked up on and thought she was weak and vulnerable – an easy target to bully. Mary said nothing because she knew if she reported them and lost her job, her dad would give her a good hiding when he had a belly full of drink inside him.

Cathy was working in the office doing her paperwork when there was a knock at the door, and on opening it she saw Betsy with tears streaming down her face. What on earth has happened? she said, handing her a handkerchief out of her pocket. Take a seat, but I think I know what it’s all about. Have Jenny and Jessie been bullying you again?

No, it’s not that, Betsy replied, sitting with her head down looking at the floor.

After a few minutes Cathy was getting impatient, Speak up, pet, I haven’t got all day and why on earth are you wearing your coat on the shop floor when a uniform was provided?

Betsy looked up at her boss and sheepishly explained that she had stained the back of her dress as she had forgotten to bring some sanitary towels with her.

Goodness me, child, we can soon fix that – we’re a chemist shop! Just wait here and I will get a packet off the shelf for you and go into the stock room and get you a dress – I guess you’re a large not a medium size, or am I being too presumptuous? Cathy said diplomatically.

I am, Betsy answered back shyly.

Cathy sorted the problem out and Betsy was soon back on the shop floor, but she wondered if it was a good idea taking Betsy on. Although she was a good, hard-working girl she always looked like she had the troubles of the world on her shoulders, especially since her mam had died, so Cathy felt maternal towards her. Still, working with troubled teenagers could be hard work at the best of times.

The day had gone slowly, only a handful of customers came into the shop but with the weather being so bad it was not unusual for people to stay indoors in the warm. Cathy decided to close the shop early, with the advice of the Area Manager that the weather was getting worse and the drive home would be a nightmare. The staff spent most of the afternoon shovelling snow away from the entrance of the shop front so customers could have access into the building.

Betsy was lucky, Cathy gave her a lift to and from work but never asked for any money towards the petrol or deduct any money out of her wages – these were hard times for some families and when she was younger she had experienced them herself. Fortunately she and her husband had saved hard when he was alive especially when times were good, so she had a few bob tucked away for a rainy day and a cosy home to live in which met all of her needs.

When they arrived at Betsy’s home she got out and thanked Cathy for the lift. See you tomorrow, hinny, said Cathy, and give my regards to your dad.

I will, Mrs Jones – oh, I mean Cathy.

It was like an ice-box when she entered the kitchen which led into the sitting room so she quickly lit the coal fire and noticed a note on the mantelpiece – it was from Tom who said he was at David’s house and was staying for dinner which he often did as his parents liked him. Tom was company for their only boy who never had many friends at school, being a slow learner, but Tom always looked out for him.

Betsy went into the small kitchen which had a tiny table against the wall and a couple of cupboards above and a door facing opposite where there was a small bathroom. The kitchen was basic but suited their needs, with a gas cooker next to a small window which had a sink next to it with a curtain going around it. Betsy made a cottage pie with some carrots and peas and when she had done that she swept and mopped the lino on the kitchen floor.

Fred finally came home from work; Betsy never knew when to expect him as he often called in the pub for a pint – something he never used to do when her mam was alive. But she never questioned him about it because she knew he was still grieving and she felt so lonely inside. He would change the subject when her mother’s name was mentioned.

What was your day like, pet? Fred asked when he walked in the living room. Alright for some, I would say, as he saw Betsy drinking her mug of tea with a magazine on her lap.

It was fine, Dad. Mrs Jones was kind, she said I should call her Cathy from now on.

Fred was annoyed, Don’t be so stupid, me bairn, know your place, don’t get above your station otherwise the staff will give you a hard time.

Betsy said nothing but was fed up with her dad’s old-fashioned ideas and negativity. Her mam had been a proud woman but was different, she had been much more open-minded and positive. Betsy wished she hadn’t been taken away from her.

I’m going to have a wash and change, lass, and have a bite to eat. I’m starving – what’s for dinner?

I have a cottage pie in the oven with carrots and peas.

That sounds grand, but did you put a wash on? I’m running out of work shirts.

Betsy got annoyed, I can’t do everything, I worked today the same as you, Dad.

Watch your tongue, me bairn, we all have to pull together – and where is Tom?

He’s at David’s house around the corner, he’s having his dinner there.

I think he should pull his weight a bit more, I’ll have words with him when he comes home, her dad said.

They both had their dinner at the kitchen table, but there were very few words spoken and later her dad went up to bed for a sleep. Tom walked in the door and Betsy asked if he had eaten.

Yep I have, where’s Dad?

He’s having a sleep. Tom looked fed up. What’s wrong? Betsy asked.

Nothing, but he never has time with us and I bet he’s had more than his fill of booze in the pub before he came home.

Betsy knew he was right, her dad never communicated with them since their beloved mam died, and if she approached the subject he would be up in arms and lose his temper.

I’m going to my room, Tom said, See you in the morning.

Betsy kissed him on the cheek and said goodnight. In her heart she knew exactly how he was feeling – the laughter had gone out of the home, it was like living in a museum, time stood still and nothing moved on.

Three months passed and there was a new development in Betsy’s household. Fred her dad had brought home Rosy, a landlady who ran the Tavern pub three miles up the road, to introduce her to the children and explained to them she had just recently got a divorce from her husband Bob, leaving her to look after her son Bill who was sixteen. Betsy hated her at first sight – a loud-mouthed woman who was well built, big busted and not afraid to show them off wearing a low-cut dress and brassy bright-red lipstick. With her disgusting protruding brown teeth and blonde bleached hair, in Betsy’s eyes Rosy was grotesque, she looked as common as muck, but Tom on the other hand wasn’t too bothered as she gave him money whenever she came.

Everything came to a head one Sunday when she cooked lunch for her dad and brother and Rosy walked in the door. Something smells good, she said and Fred told her to take her coat off and pull up a chair.

Betsy lost it, I don’t want her here, Dad, or I’m leaving home – she’s a slag.

Cheeky bugger, Rosy replied and looked at Fred who sat at the table with his head in his hands. Well say something, Rosy said, or I’ll give her a good slap.

You just try it, Betsy said and ran upstairs.

Tom kept quiet and carried on eating his meal; he liked the few bob Rosy gave him whenever she came around but he didn’t care too much for her either.

I want you to leave, Rosy, right now. I’ll pop in the pub tonight – just let her calm down, said Fred.

Rosy put on her coat and walked out the door slamming it behind her.

Betsy sat on her bed sobbing her heart out and looked at the picture on the chest of drawers of her mam; the pain was unbearable, inside she had the kindest loving heart and life had been so good then.

Fred sat downstairs smoking a Woodbine, with a can of beer in his hand, thinking to himself, why the bloody hell did it happen to his beloved wife Mabel? She had years ahead of her, a woman in her forties and he wished he could pack his bags and walk out the door even though he loved his two children. He felt it was all too much to bear – she had been the glue that held the family together, never moaning or complaining, such a strong proud woman right to the very end of her life.

Tom hated the atmosphere in the house. He put on his coat and sneaked out the back door to go and see David his friend, that was his sanctuary when things got unpleasant and it was one way of not doing the washing up.

Betsy finally came downstairs and went straight into the kitchen and started to clear the table. Fred called her in the sitting room and told her to sit down which she did. Look, love, you can’t tell me who I can see and not see, let’s get that straight.

Betsy flew in a rage, Dad have you lost your mind? Everyone talks in the village about her, she has a bad reputation, if me mam was alive to see this she would be disgusted with you.

Stop right there, young lady, how dare you speak to me like that, have respect for your father.

I have, Dad, Betsy replied, but since Mam died you’re drinking far too much and you never have time for me and Tom.

Rubbish! I’m working my socks off and deserve a bit of pleasure when it comes my way.

Fred got fed up with the conversation and told Betsy he needed a lie down, which is what he always did when things went wrong – he buried his head in the sand.

Betsy felt miserable and unhappy inside, she was void of emotion, all she wanted was to be a close family like it had been when her mam was alive.

The following morning it was like nothing had happened. Fred got up for work and made a cuppa for Betsy and reminded her to wake Tom up for school. He hurried out the door – he’d overslept that morning with the extra cans of beer he had consumed in the evening and he’d forgotten to put the alarm on.

Tom complained as usual, not wanting to get up for school but got up anyway, rather than face his dad giving him a lecture about how he was such a lazy bugger and needed to pull his socks up otherwise he would end up like him working down the pit which is hard graft with very little reward.

Betsy got dressed as soon as she had given Tom his breakfast and kissed him on the cheek as he left for school. The place was a mess so she quickly put a load of washing in the machine and made the beds, dusted and cleaned everywhere. The ash tray was full of cigarette ends and there were burns in the threadbare carpet in the living room in front of the fireplace where the coal had fallen out, and also where her dad would lie on the settee smoking and sometimes missing the ash tray. Her mam always kept the place tidy when she was alive and her dad had only been allowed to smoke in the back yard. He used to have a few pints of beer once a week at the working men’s club every Saturday evening, but now he popped in the pub whenever it took his fancy. His wage packet had been handed over every Friday evening to her mam and she gave him enough money for his smokes and beer. Now he had changed and didn’t seem to care about anything anymore. There were jobs around the house to do but they were left; and the garden, which at one time was his pride and joy, was overgrown with weeds. Betsy wished everything could be like before but she felt she must keep her promise to her mam and look after her brother and dad, but wished she hadn’t. She felt overwhelmed some days with the responsibility.

Betsy left a note for Tom asking him to take the clothes out of the washing machine and hang them on the airer and placed it on the mantelpiece behind the clock.

There was a knock at the door and Betsy opened it. Come on, lass, aren’t you ready yet?

Sorry, Cathy, I just need to put my coat on and get my bag.

Cathy reminded her to put a couple of towels in, We don’t want you to have another accident at work.

Betsy felt embarrassed at that remark but did as she was told because secretly she had forgotten.

The journey to work was a nightmare the snow was falling on the windscreen and some back roads were icy so Cathy drove the car slowly, the conditions were hazardous. What are you thinking about, Betsy? You’re quiet this morning.

Nothing really, it’s just my dad has a fancy woman and I can’t stand her.

Anyone I know, pet?

Rosy who runs the Tavern pub in the village.

Cathy was in shock, I know her very well, she tried to flirt with my Colin one night in the pub and I gave her what for and told her to find her own man. My husband wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot barge pole, what on earth is your dad thinking about?

I know, Betsy remarked, but I can’t tell him anything, he doesn’t listen to me.

Cathy saw the hurt written across her face, Listen to me, sweetheart, I can understand your dad is lonely and whatever we think of her she’s filling a void in his life, but mark my words he’s not a foolish man and will see sense and drop her like a hot potato given time.

After Cathy opened the shop it was soon buzzing with customers buying ointments, facial creams ‘two-for-one’ on special offer, and cough medicines going cheap which sold out quickly with so many people suffering in the bad weather with colds and flu, and there were also special offers on a selection of hot water bottles.

It was eleven o’clock, the girls had worked hard and it was break-time. Cathy came out of her office and told Betsy and Mary to go for their break and be back on the shop floor prompt in thirty minutes so the other staff could have theirs. Betsy and Mary went next door to Bob’s Bakery and bought two currant buns each, then went back into the shop to eat them in the staff room. Mary offered to make a mug of tea. Thanks, Mary, that would be nice, milk and two sugars please, and when she sat down at the table Betsy asked her about her family. She could see Mary felt very uncomfortable, especially when she