Page 68 of The Way We Are Now

‘I’m going to be sick,’ he said, turning away and vomiting profusely before sitting on the ground, head in hands, sobbing.

22

I had to try and find Theo; I couldn’t just abandon him. Les stayed with me and we walked back up to the makeshift car park, hoping Theo had been able to find his way back there to his waiting Mini. There was a feeling of utter disbelief at what had happened that morning as those not martialled back down into the village of Orgreave by the police fled for their lives, hiding behind hedges and in ditches until they felt it safe to surface and be transported back to their own villages. Lines of utterly demoralised bleeding and injured miners waited patiently to be driven back in the many coaches and private cars, too overwhelmed to speak, too shocked at being caught in a trap.

Les and I waited for hours, Les slumped on the grass in the shade of the wall next to Theo’s car, as I patrolled the area around the field, praying that he would appear and be able to drive back to Leeds. Eventually, when it seemed unlikely that this was going to be the case, I made the decision to walk down into Orgreave itself and ask at the police station there. Desperately thirsty but not having the foresight to bring any water with us, Les and I trailed down into the village.

‘Oy, don’t go down there,’ a retreating miner warned us. ‘Get yourselves off home. They’re still knocking seven bells out of anyone who looks to have been involved. And they’re holding people in a temporary detention centre they’ve set up.’ He pointed over his shoulder. ‘Down opposite yonder coking plant. I’ve just had a word with someone they’ve charged and let out. Says there were a line of police kicking and punching them as they filed through. So, don’t you be going down there of your own accord.’

‘I have to,’ I said to Les. ‘You don’t need to come in with me. I can say I’m looking for Theo. Find out if they know what’s happened to him.’

‘Jesus, I’m thirsty,’ Les said, nodding. ‘How about we ring Dad?’

‘What for?’

‘Well, tell him what’s happened. Or, I know, let’s ring John Dyson. You’ve got his number.’

‘I’m not ringing that man ever again. The union must have had some idea this was all going to kick off…’ I paused, my throat so dry I could hardly speak. ‘Have you any money on you? To ring Dad? And what do you think he’s going to do to help?’

‘Well, Mum then. She could get Uncle Maurice to drive over and pick us up.’

‘Les, I’m not going anywhere until I know what’s happened to Theo.’

‘You don’t think he’s… you know… dead?’

My heart lurched. ‘Les, you saw him, you saw him go under a horse, you said…’

‘It all happened so quick, Anna,’ he said miserably.

‘You should have stayed,’ I hissed, punching his arm viciously. ‘You should have bloody well stayed and helped him. See what happened to him.’

‘I tried,’ Les said. ‘Honest, Anna. And then they were hitting me with everything they had. I don’t know how I managed to get away from them.’

I realised then, all the stuffing had gone out of him, that Les was in shock. His head, he said, was hammering and I wondered if he’d some sort of concussion. We were both in danger of becoming dehydrated, and as we approached a corner shop I asked him again what money he had. Together we were able to pool a couple of coins and bought a bottle of pop to share, as well as keeping some back if we needed to ring Dad.

‘You stay here, Les,’ I warned. ‘They’ll take one look at you and know what you are.’

‘What I am?’

‘You know exactly what I mean.’

An hour later, and I finally managed to get through the crowd of detained men and arresting officers to speak to someone who wouldn’t even lift his head from his ledger to acknowledge me. Although, when I eventually spoke, at the sound of a female voice, he deigned to look up.

Nothing doing, he said. No one of the name of Theo Mandeville had been brought in. Part of me considered pulling rank and explaining that he was the son of Lord and Lady Mandeville and had got caught up in all this by mistake but thought better of it. The last thing Theo – and his family – would want was a sensational piece in the papers.

‘Are you sure?’ I kept asking, near to tears.

‘Nope, sorry. He’s probably scarpered and on his way home now, having his tea and with his feet up.’

‘But his car is still here.’

He shook his head and shouted, ‘Next!’

I turned, crying now, when one of the older men sitting on the floor stood and took my arm.

‘Theo? Fair hair? Student?’

‘Yes, yes.’ I grabbed at his hand.