Page 64 of The Way We Are Now

When Les ignored Theo, I said, ‘It’s about twenty miles from here, between Sheffield and Rotherham.’

‘And there’s a mine there?’

‘Closed in 1981,’ Les said briefly but offering no other explanation.

‘The mine might have closed,’ I explained, turning to Theo, ‘but the Orgreave Coking Plant was set up for the steelworks. They need coal to make steel, and they have to transport it in from mines round here.’

‘Aye, and we have to stop the bastards from getting it. They should be out in support of the miners! Most times I’ve been there, there’s been two separate convoys, each with twenty to thirty empty lorries to load up with coke so’s to keep the steel production going. We have to stop the bloody lorry drivers delivering the stuff.’

‘Les, you’ve been fly picketing for weeks,’ I said. ‘And I get that.’ I turned to Theo once more. ‘It’s all been well organised. You might have two to three hundred pickets on the job, persuading miners who’re not striking to come out and join the strikers. The pickets receive about four pounds a day, and the drivers get petrol…’

‘What world do you live in, Anna?’ Les was getting angry. ‘And you working right there at the NUM? You should know better. We might have got a bit of cash in the early days – hell, we have to live – and it was all pretty matey with the cops. You know, most of ’em are like us. From round here. So, we’d push at them and they’d push back a bit and then we’d share our sandwiches with ’em and then we’d all go home, job done. But not any more.’

‘Right?’ Theo appeared fascinated by Les’s words.

‘Arthur’s identified Orgreave Coking Plant as a key target for picketing. If they can’t get coal, the steelworks’ll have to close down. Meks sense. And then Thatcher’ll know what’s hit her and she’ll have to back down about closing t’mines. As I say, it were OK to begin with. All right friendly, if you like, but a couple a weeks back, they started drafting in police from all over t’shop.’

‘So intimidating people who want to work?’ Theo’s question might have shown his naivety when it came to what was going on with the strike, and I don’t think for one minute he was trying to be political or even controversial, but Les turned on him and was about to vent his anger when Dad stopped him in his tracks.

‘Les, either sit down and join us and be polite, or leave. We have guest here. You show your manners.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Theo said, clearly embarrassed. ‘I just don’t know much about what’s going on. Apart from what I see on TV or read in the papers. I’m just trying to understand the situation.’

‘Theo, honestly, most people from not round here…’ I started, but Les was in there before me.

‘Mebbe,’ he said pointing a finger in Theo’s direction, ‘mebbe you should ask one of your brothers-in-law.’ He slumped crossly onto the one remaining chair, reaching for the jug of Dad’s Polish beer and, despite his decrying the stuff, poured himself a hefty glassful.

‘Sorry?’ Mum, Dad and I all turned towards Les.

‘Didn’t you know, Anna? One of your boyfriend’s sisters is married to a Tory MP, for God’s sake and t’other one’s even worse – he works for t’finance company that are bankrolling Thatcher against us.’

‘So?’ I interrupted hotly, utterly mortified that Theo was being put on the spot by my little brother. ‘It’s nothing to do with Theo who his sisters are married to. And I’d like to know exactly where you’ve got all this so-called information from, Les?’

‘John Dyson,’ Les said with a raised eyebrow. ‘Had a drink with him in The Feathers on Friday night. Good bloke. I don’t know why you gave him the runaround.’

‘Les!’ Dad warned, glancing at Theo.

‘Bought you lots to drink, did he?’ I asked, furious that Dyson, as I suspected, had been checking up on Theo.

‘I paid my way,’ Les said sulkily. ‘Anyhow, he’s got more brass than me. He were right friendly. Came over and told me what a good job you were doing in the office, Anna. Let it slip about what Arthur was planning tomorrow at Orgreave. Although, we all knew anyway,’ he added.

‘New best friend?’ I said in disgust. I knew just what Dyson had been up to, getting in with my brother, grooming him into friendship so that if I ever told Les what I’d been subjected to – twice – in the office, he wouldn’t believe me.

‘As Anna says,’ Theo said calmly, but I could see he was dreadfully embarrassed, ‘I don’t get to choose who my sisters end up with. I’m so sorry if it…’

‘No, we sorry,’ Dad said, glaring at Les. ‘Here, Theo, you have more of this…’ He poured Theo, despite his protestations, more of the beer. ‘A toast,’ he said, ‘to good people. To integrity. And to peace.’

‘Hear, hear,’ Mum said and we clinked glasses and drank, and then ate, as if Les hadn’t fired a cannonball into the midst of our picnic. Into the very heart of my relationship with Theo.

‘I really must go,’ Theo said after an hour. Les had left almost immediately after his comments about Theo’s family. ‘I’ve a squash match as well as my things to pack up in Leeds before heading home tomorrow.’ He stood, swaying slightly and immediately sat back down again.

‘You can’t drive,’ Mum said. ‘What would your mother think if we let you get back into your car? Even if you leave it an hour or two, you won’t be fit to go anywhere. And there’s a big police presence around here at the moment, as you can imagine. You don’t want to be losing your licence.’

‘Theo can have my bed,’ I said quickly before Mum suggested he share Les’s room.

‘No, I’m not taking your bed,’ Theo protested. ‘I’ll sleep in the car.’

‘You can still be done,’ Mum said, nodding her head knowingly. ‘“Being in charge of a car”’ – she air-quoted the words – ‘if you’ve been drinking. Ted Sykes had to go to court – d’you remember, Joe? – when Jackie, his wife, threw him out for being drunk and he decided to kip in their car.’