Page 66 of The Way We Are Now

‘All right, all right, all right,’ I said crossly. ‘Don’t quote something you’ve recently read at me, Theo. Just get yourself back off to Leeds.’

‘No, I’m going to go with Les and see for myself. I’m a historian, for heaven’s sake. I need to see history as it’s happening.’

‘No, you don’t,’ I argued, going to put my arms round him. ‘And just because you happen to be doing a history degree, it doesn’t automatically make you a historian.’

Les tutted and Theo glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘I’ve a final squash match in Leeds this evening so I need to get back but…’

‘No,’ I snapped. ‘Forget it. You are not going with Les!’

‘Well, I’m off,’ Les said. ‘It’d have been good to get a lift there instead of waiting for the coaches to take us.’

‘Come on then,’ Theo said. ‘Let’s go.’

‘I’m coming as well then,’ I said, folding my arms.

‘No, you’re not.’ Theo and Les spoke as one and I had to shush the pair of them. I didn’t want Dad coming down. Mum would be OK with it, but Dad had seen and experienced enough of any sort of conflict during the war, and believed things should be sorted diplomatically.

‘You have to go to work,’ Theo said.

‘I think this counts as work,’ I replied. ‘If anyone objects, tough. I’m nearly through with it all anyway.’

‘It’s no place for a girl,’ Les said and Theo nodded in agreement.

‘Oh, don’t you give me that, the pair of you,’ I hissed. ‘What do you think all these women – these wives and mothers – have been doing helping with the strike?’

‘Pie and peas,’ Les said dryly, and I saw a hint of a smile on Theo’s face. ‘Bit different from chucking a brick at the police.’

‘Don’t you dare,’ I said. ‘Yell and shout and swear as much as you want, but the minute you end up lobbing stuff at the police, you’ll be arrested. Right, give me five minutes. Don’t even think about going without me.’

‘Have you enough petrol?’ I asked as Theo started the engine of the Mini.

He nodded over his shoulder to where I sat, dressed in a cotton skirt and T-shirt in the back seat, but managed to avoid catching my eye. Les, in the passenger seat, appeared to think it his right to sit at the front. Mind you, he did know the way, having spent the last couple of weeks picketing at the coking plant.

The roads were fairly clear, no sign yet of any mass gathering of pickets or police, and I began to relax. Theo could do whatever he had to do to prove to Les he cared about what was going on, and then slip away, drop me off and head back to Leeds and his squash match.

‘Jesus!’

‘Fuck!’

‘Oh my God, Theo, turn round, turn back.’

Theo pulled into a layby at the top of a steep hill and the three of us just sat and stared at a long black line on the leafy verdant horizon, maybe half a mile or so away.

‘That can’t be…’ I started.

‘It fucking well is,’ Les said.

‘This is surreal,’ I breathed. ‘Why’s no one stopping us? Hang on…’

The three of us turned as a police Range Rover – heavily armoured I noted – pulled up behind us and an officer jumped out, walking slowly round to the front window.

‘Come to protest?’

‘Sorry?’

‘I’m assuming you’re here either to support the miners or just rubbernecking. If it’s the latter, I suggest you turn right round and go back where you came from. If you’re here to support the strike, there’s parking in the field ahead. No place for a woman,’ he added. ‘I suggest you get yourself home, love.’

‘Right. Well, yes,’ Theo said, ‘we’re here to support the strike.’