The Coal Miner & The Conservative

Thinking about his troublesome brother, Gary cast a casual glance at a passing car and immediately snapped out of his day-dreaming. A skin-head was driving, another skin-head in the front passenger seat and three youths in the back, Gary unable to miss that the youth in the left rear passenger seat was his brother Kenny. Kenny failed to notice his older brother at all.

Gary watched the car - presumably a stolen car - drive slowly up the street. Several cars were parked along the roadside, among them a police car containing two uniformed officers. As the car drew level with the police car, it stopped and the five young men leaned out the windows, pelting the police car with bottles, beer cans and rocks, while chanting "Pig, pig, pig, pig, pig!"

Immediately, the police car's flashing blue lights and siren came on as the skin-head driving sped away, the police car in hot pursuit. A short way along the road the car's left indicator was turned on, and the neo-Nazi pulled in as though stopping. However, as the police car approached the car sped away again, Kenny leaning out the window yelling, "Fuck you filth!" before throwing a bag of garbage at the police car's windscreen, rubbish going everywhere.

"Piss off pigs!" shouted the skinhead in the front passenger side as he gave the police an obscene hand gesture out of the windows.

"You can't catch us, coppers!" yelled another foolhardy youth, who had almost his entire body out of the window of the speeding car as he hurled a beer can at the police car.

With squealing tyres, the car sped through an intersection, running a stop sign and causing a van coming the other way to make an emergency stop, tyres screeching and the horn sounding. The stolen car vanished from sight around the corner followed by the pursuing police car, the siren still audible although fading into the distance as the chase drew further and further away, the skin-head continuing his tactic of stopping and then going again to antagonize the police as much as possible.

Gary shook his head, disgusted and angry at his younger brother's behavior, but he resolved in his mind that he had seen nothing if the police happened to come asking him. There was no way he was going to grass on Kenny to the cops. Kenny was more stupid and easily led than dangerous, but Gary - whose many attempts to put Kenny on the right track had failed - hoped that his brother would wake up to himself sooner rather than later otherwise he might find himself in prison. And if Kenny ended up behind bars, the only certainty was that he would make a lot of new friends very quickly with the tougher, stronger and hardened inmates residing there.

Continuing on to the council flats that Angie and Colin called home, Gary walked up the stairs to the first floor and rang the doorbell, the door answered a few seconds later not by Angie or Colin, but by Angie's younger sister Sheree and Gary silently swore under his breath.

Just four feet ten inches tall when barefoot as she was today and possessing a slight build Sheree, who even at the age of 18 had developed a reputation as the town bike, was a torrent of trouble despite her small stature. She was a pretty enough redhead, her long hair tied back in a loose pony-tail, but her expression was as usual hard and defiant, and the girl wore way too much make-up, especially around her eyes. Sheree usually dressed like a tramp, and today was no exception, the teenager wearing a pink blouse that exposed her midriff and hardly covered her bra and boobs; and an ultra-short denim mini-skirt that barely covered her knickers. She stared at Gary, her expression unwelcoming.

"Who is it?" called a young male voice from the couch. Gary tried not to cringe as he recognized the voice of Sheree's latest boyfriend Steve, a fellow coal-miner. If there was an award for the laziest man at the pit, 19-year-old Steve would win it in a close tie with his older brother and their father, none of whom would work in an iron lung. Slacker Steve and his family treated the strike like a holiday, not that they worked hard enough to earn a holiday anyway.

"Nobody important, it's just Gary, Angie's ex," Sheree called back. She turned to Gary. "Colin's getting Emma ready, and Angie's on the loo, so you'll have to wait, okay?"

"Thank you," said Gary curtly, following Sheree into the flat, where he took a seat in an armchair, and Sheree jumped onto the couch where Steve was lounging around. The girl straddled her boyfriend's chest and they began to French kiss, Sheree somehow managing to giggle despite the fact that Steve's tongue and her own tongue were inter-twined. Gary tried not to watch as Steve and Sheree's hands roamed all over each other, Steve fondling Sheree's tits through her blouse and bra with his left hand and with his right lifted the girl's flimsy excuse for a skirt, exposing her white knickers and running his hand over her bum, one finger going under her panty elastic to which Sheree giggled and stroked Steve's groin through his jeans.

Gary shook his head. 'Don't mind me,' he thought to himself. 'Don't hold back on my account, make-out as much as you like and feel each other up to your heart's desire. I wouldn't either of you to feel uncomfortable or embarrassed on my account, just go and put your hand in your girlfriend's knickers and stroke your boyfriend's dick while I'm sitting right here. I'm not embarrassed or uncomfortable at all, why would I be?'

"You'll get sticky fingers if you get too near there," Sheree giggled, Steve laughing like a hyena in response.

Gary, who thought he might never get that image out of his head, wished he was anywhere but here. He noticed a bag of Sheree's clothes strewn on the floor near the couch, and wondered if the tear-away teenager had pissed off her parents and was staying on Angie's couch again. It wouldn't be the first or last time. Gary and Angie were the responsible older siblings in their families, while Kenny and Sheree were the equivalent troublesome younger siblings. It was a huge irony that Angie was the one who had fallen pregnant while still a teenager, although there was still plenty of time for Sheree to emulate this.

Sheree and Kenny had been in the same year at school, until both dropped out at the earliest possible opportunity without a single qualification to go on the dole. They had been in trouble throughout school, their antics including truancy, graffiti, shoplifting and playing chicken with cars. Since leaving school, Sheree had accumulated quite a resume of petty offences including theft, public drunkenness, disorderly conduct, wasting police time, trespass, vandalism and perjury. The one thing Gary was grateful for was that Kenny and Sheree had not found love with each other. That could possibly be the worst thing ever.

Gary could hear his daughter's voice, and Emma ran into the room. "Dad!" the little girl exclaimed, rushing at Gary, who scooped her up in his arms and swung her around, noticing his daughter's right ear was filled with cotton wool.

"Hi darling," said Gary. "Are you ready to go and see Gran this morning?"

Emma nodded, as Colin entered carrying a small bag of Emma's things. Gary's eyes went wide at the sight of Colin's appearance. The tall and handsome young man with reddish-brown hair had his left arm in a sling, a massive black eye, facial abrasions and dressings up and down his arms, and was walking with a slight limp.

"Mate, what the hell happened to you?" Gary exclaimed.

Colin managed a wry smile. "An Alsatian happened."

"An Alsatian?"

"Yeah, the one on West Street."

"I know the one," said Gary. "Bloody thing's vicious. It's more like a wolf."

"Yeah, I think it has rabies too," said Colin as he turned to the two teenagers who continued to make out on his couch. "I'll throw a bucket of water over you two if you don't stop doing that," he warned them, to which Sheree and Steve reluctantly separated from each other and sat up on the couch, Sheree shamelessly sitting with her legs apart, showing off her knickers.

"So what happened with the dog?" Gary asked, amazed that Colin had suffered such injuries. The Alsatian that had attacked Colin reminded him of the ones the police used at the demonstrations, some of Gary and Paul's mates coming off second best when they ran towards a van that was attempting to cross the picket line and escort scab workers onto the colliery. The dogs were released, and the final result was that the three young miners were apprehended and hauled away in a police van.

Colin felt his sore arm. "I was doing a delivery over on West Street. I got out of lorry, turned the corner to drop off the package and there it was, waiting. The bloody owners - that guy that looks like a gorilla that everyone's scared of and his bitch of a wife - let it run free all day while they're at work. I tried to go around it, but I must have looked at it wrong or something, because next thing I knew it just attacked. The postman came and helped get it off me, and the bloody thing bit him too."

"So, are you off work?"

Colin nodded. "Yeah, doctor said at least three weeks."

"I'm really sorry to hear that, mate," said Gary. He knew that Colin and Angie, like many in the town, were struggling to make ends meet. Colin being off work would be a body-blow for them financially.

In the background, Gary heard the toilet flush and taps running, before the bathroom door opened and the slim, attractive figure of Angie, dressed in a short-sleeve denim jacket, white tee-shirt and denim skirt entered the living room, adjusting her long brown hair that contrasted with Sheree's red hair back into a pony-tail.

"Hi Gary," she said, her pretty face unable to hide the strain she was obviously feeling from everything going on in her life at the moment.

"Hi Angie," Gary responded, as Angie's bare feet made contact with the clothes Sheree had left on the floor, and she fixed her attention onto her younger sister and Sheree's bone-idle boyfriend.

"Are you going to sit there with that boyfriend of yours all day?" Angie asked her sister.

"Yeah, there's bugger all else to do," said Sheree, glaring at Angie.

Noticing his daughter was taking an interest in the upcoming confrontation between her mother and her aunt, Gary took her doll out of her bag, attempting to distract Emma from the inevitable unpleasantness that would arise. Again, Gary noticed the cotton-wool in Emma's ear, and resolved to query Angie about why this was.

"You could try picking up after yourself," said Angie, standing over her glowering younger sister and indicating the clothes that covered the living room floor. "You might like to live in squalor, but I bloody don't. Anyway, you were up early this morning. Why was that? And what were you trying to wash off your hands when you got back?"

"It were nail-polish," said Sheree.

"Are you sure it were nail-polish?" asked Angie. "It weren't red paint what was used to spray offensive graffiti over the wall opposite a police station?"

"That weren't me!" protested Sheree. "But if I find out who did it, I'll buy them a pint. I hate the filth. I fucking hate them. They can go and get fucked."

"Sheree, you're dead lucky the police had better things to deal with than a mouthy little brat like you on Thursday night, and gave you caution instead of prosecuting you for obstruction," said Angie.

"If I'd pulled me knickers down and flashed me fanny at them, I bet they'd have done nothing, or even given me reward," said Sheree. She and Steve both laughed.

"It's not funny, and you don't speak like that when Emma's around," said Angie.

"What, she don't understand?" scoffed Sheree, as Colin noticed Steve still smirking.

"Something funny here, Steve?" Colin asked.

"Nuh," said Steve.

"Good if there's nothing funny in here to amuse you, then you'd better piss off, hadn't you?" said Colin. He pointed at the front door with his good arm, Steve sighing and getting to his feet.

"You can't tell him to piss off and make him leave!" Sheree protested.

"Yes we can, this is our flat not yours," said Angie.

"It's not your flat," said Sheree. "Council owns flat, you and Colin rent it."

"Shut it, Sheree," said Angie. "Later this morning, we'll be taking your stuff back to Mum and Dad's and you'll be apologizing for what you said to them after they picked you up from police station on Thursday."

"I'm not sorry," said Sheree. "I didn't do nothing wrong anyway."

"When police were speaking to your boyfriend for chucking cigarette butt towards them, you were singing 'Old MacDonald Had a Farm' at them," said Angie.

"Didn't think it were criminal offence to sing 'Old MacDonald Had a Farm'," said Sheree, her smart-arse tone designed to get on Angie's nerves even more.

"It is when you sing it to police when they're speaking to someone, and Old MacDonald only has one type of animal," said Angie. "An animal that has snout, trotters and a curly tail."

"They were pigs, they fucking deserve it," said Sheree. "The pigs gave me the shits, the way they were hassling Steve. He didn't do nothing, and I didn't do nothing."

"I don't care, Sheree," said Angie. "I do care about you free-loading here though, and that's why you're going home. We can't afford to have you here, you know how tight money is at the moment. I had to scrape all the coins together last week just to get bread and milk. All you do is waste your dole money on booze and smokes, and sponge off everyone else around you. Do you ever take anything seriously? Like the written caution the cops gave you the other night?"

"I take it very seriously," said Sheree. "I keep it with me at all times. If I get a cold and run out of tissues, I can use it to blow me nose; and if I'm on the toilet and I run out of loo paper I can use it to wipe me bum."

"Charming Sheree, real charming. Anyway, I don't have time to keep talking crap with you," said the increasingly exasperated Angie. "Can you give Gary and Colin and me a few minutes?"

"How can you give people time?" Sheree asked smugly.

"Piss off Sheree," said Angie, pointing at the door.

With a deep sigh, Sheree grabbed her cigarettes and lighter, got to her feet and stormed towards the door. "You piss off, Angie," she said, keen to have the last word as she exited and slammed the door closed behind her, joining her boyfriend outside.

Angie walked over to Emma, and put her daughter in an armchair with her doll. "Mum just needs to talk with Dad and Uncle Colin, so why don't you and Rosie have a play here? Then Dad will take you to see your Grandma."

"Okay," said Emma, playing with her doll as Colin and Gary sat on the couch, Angie in the other armchair.

Gary took his wallet, and handed the notes that formed Emma's maintenance payment to Angie. "Angie, it's not all of it ..." Gary began.

"You're right there," said Angie as she looked at the meagre amount of money, and tried to keep her disappointment in check. She understood Gary's position; her father and older brother were coal-miners and also out on strike and Gary was always reliable with his maintenance payments, but it didn't make things easy for her as she and Colin struggled to make ends meet.

"Angie, I'm sorry, I'll get you the rest as soon as I can," said Gary, knowing as he said this that he had only limited ways of achieving this promise.

"Gary, I know you always try your best," said Angie. "But things have been really tough this week, and we really need that money for Emma. We've had the rent, the gas bill and the electric all due, then Emma got sick and there was the doctor's bill and medicine ..."

"I noticed the cotton wool in Emma's ear," said Gary. "What's wrong?"

"Ear infection," said Angie. "She needs antibiotics and ear-drops, and they're not cheap."

"I wish you'd told me," said Gary, a little peeved that Angie had not called him about this. "I am her dad, after all."

"Yes, but there was nothing you could have done about it, and you've got enough on your plate with the strike," said Angie. "If you could please get the rest of the maintenance as soon as you can, it would really help. The supermarket have cut back my hours ..."

"I didn't know that," said the dismayed Gary. "What did they do that for?"

"Because of the strike, people are spending less and they need cashiers less," said Angie. "It's like Colin, his hours were cut too because the colliery is their main customer. And Colin can't work at all for few weeks, thanks to that bloody dog."

"I'm sorry," said Gary. The strike wasn't his fault, but he could not help feeling guilty. Colin and Angie were in this mess because the miners, who were the main populace of the town, were on strike, and the businesses that employed them were struggling financially.

"Not your fault mate," said Colin reassuringly. "I'll check with me boss, I might be back sooner if I can get some light duties."

"Yeah, it's not your fault Gary," said Angie. "I'm not blaming you. It's important you stand up to Government, otherwise mine might get shut down and we'll be in this mess permanently."

"I'll talk to union," said Gary. "Maybe they can advance me next week's assistance payment?" He wasn't hopeful of this even as he said it.

"And if they don't?" Angie asked.

Gary's expression darkened. "I'll drive down to London, go to 10 Downing Street, knock on door and see if Mrs. Thatcher might lend me some money," he said bitterly.

*

"Mate, you're a great Dad," said Paul, as he and Julie sat opposite the down-hearted Gary, trying to talk their friend around. "Emma's lucky to have you as her father. And Angie's a brilliant Mum."

"Yeah come on Gary, you're doing a brilliant job," said Julie.

Gary had enjoyed spending the morning with his daughter and his mother, he and Barbara taking the little girl to the park to play. Gary decided it was better to lie and say he hadn't seen his brother when his mother asked if he had seen Kenny recently, rather than upset her by telling her that Kenny and his football hooligan Neo-Nazi mates had been causing trouble at the picket lines and harassing the police in a stolen car. Kenny's antics drove her to despair.

Barbara had treated her son and granddaughter to an ice-cream at the van and for a while, Gary had forgotten his troubles on the beautiful summer's day. But as he walked his mother home, then returned Emma to Angie and went back to the Carter's house, the feelings of gloom returned.

"I can't afford Emma's maintenance," said Gary. "What kind of a Dad am I? Emma was sick this week, and Angie could hardly afford the antibiotics and ear-drops. She and Colin are struggling, their hours got cut back and Colin's off work after dog attacked him, and there was nothing I could do to help them."

"If you don't mind me saying, you're a lot better than your own Dad," said Paul.

"Well that's not hard," said Gary. "But I'm nowhere near as good as your Dad. I mean, he gets grumpy and complains and he says bloody a lot, but he's a real good father."

"Yeah, our Dad is better than you as a father if it were contest," said Paul. "But that's because he's older and has more experience. Believe me mate, you're doing well. I don't think I could do as well if I had a kid to support through all this."

"I just worry about what will happen if the pits close, and we're all out of work," said Gary. "I worry about what's going to happen with Emma when she gets older. Angie's sister Sheree was there with her dickhead boyfriend Steve, and if Emma turns out like that, going out with an idiot, getting in trouble with the police by singing 'Old MacDonald Had a Farm' at them ..."

"Emma won't turn out like Sheree, Gary," said Julie, who was fixing the nail-polish on her toes, the pretty teenager sitting with her bare feet on the table as she removed the existing red polish and changed it with new polish of the same colour. "Not with you and Angie as her Dad and Mum. Anyway, Sheree's got a fucking screw loose if you ask me. I'm amazed she knew the words to that song. She's not the brightest bulb in box. She probably thinks you spell farm E I E I O."