The Coal Miner & The Conservative

Gary could feel his blood pressure rising. Who did this woman think she was judging Des, one of Gary's best mates, for having a job at the council working on the garbage run? She made it sound like Des collected garbage as a hobby rather than a job, that he was some weirdo who went around at night going through bins collecting things that interested him. And judging Becky - another of Gary's friends since childhood and the woman's own niece at that - for working in a shop? The fact that Becky and Des needed these jobs to pay rent, bills and buy food did not seem to occur to Mrs. Thornton-Browne.

More than anything, Gary wanted to say the woman, "Oh, shut your gob you stuck-up cow," but from somewhere he had picked up good manners, and so held his tongue. It was amazing that Gary had any manners at all, considering his estranged father would come home from work and greet Gary's mother with, "Get me my bloody tea, you stupid bitch," and would then complain about the quality of the meal, despite the fact that his drinking and gambling forced Barbara Miller to buy food close to its expiry date for reduced prices at the supermarket.

As for Kenny, he like his estranged father was devoid of manners. One time at school, Kenny and his stupid mates had been sent to the headmaster's office for vandalism. Despite the fact that all were to be punished, the boys took issue with the amount of time that the headmaster was taking to see them, and immediately treated the school's front office to a rousing rendition of, 'Oh Why Are We Waiting?', which only made things ten times worse for them when the furious headmaster emerged.

"Oh, I see you use that brand of tea-bags," said Hilda, looking at the generic brand of tea-bags Mary had taken from the cupboard with distaste. "I can see how hard things must be with Gordon and Paul out of work. Do you have coffee by any chance?"

"I'd like a coffee too," said Richard.

"Yes, we have coffee," said Mary, reaching into the cupboard and taking the jar, which was of the same generic brand as the tea.

"Instant coffee?" asked Hilda, looking down her nose at the jar. "I'll just have tea then."

"Yes, tea for me as well," said Richard Thornton-Browne.

"Tea it is then," said the most-flustered Mary Carter, as her sister looked with intense disapproval at Gordon Carter's newspaper. The paper's reporting generally had a left-wing political bias, and the articles tended to favor the miner's perspective rather than that of the government. It was not the type of publication Mrs. Thornton-Browne would even pick up, much less read.

"Can we be expecting Gordon anytime soon?" Hilda Thornton-Browne asked.

"He's here, and early," came a male voice with a broad Yorkshire accent from the kitchen door.

Everyone turned to see Mr. Carter standing in the doorway. He was wearing his gardening clothes - old trousers and a string vest - and if he had dug up the entire allotment and dumped all the soil over his head, he could not have gotten himself any filthier. Mary Carter shook her head, knowing that her husband had done this just to make a point with his despised relatives.

"Twelve fifty nine, you said be home by one, I'm early," said Mr. Carter. He walked into the kitchen, and took his brother in law by the hand. "Richard, always good to see you," he boomed, smirking at the man's discomfort at shaking his filthy hand, covered in dirt and fertilizer. "And Jonathon, you get taller every time I see you, lad," said Mr. Carter, again smiling when the snobbish young man showed disgust at shaking hands with a man covered in dirt.

"Felicity, long time no see, lass," he said, approaching the girl with open arms, his amusement at her alarmed expression evident on his face, but he gave his niece a reprieve, not going through with embracing her to the teenager's obvious relief.

"And Hilda, the dress you're wearing today looks so much better than the one you were wearing last time I saw you," said Gordon Carter, copying his sister-in-law's tactic of giving what appeared to be a compliment, which in fact was an insult.

"Gordon," said Hilda dismissively.

"That's what it says on me birth certificate," said Mr. Carter, before looking down at the floor, where the family cat Blackie had just entered. "Oh, here's last member of family to say hello," he said, stooping down and picking up the big black cat.

Blackie was Gordon Carter's pet mainly, the gruff man having a definite weakness for cats, be they domestic cats or big cats such as tigers, lions, leopards, panthers and cougars. While he was not a man for reading, having once proudly declared that 'he had never read a bloody novel in his bloody life and was not about to bloody start', he would often borrow non-fiction books from the library about cats, and would insist on watching documentaries on television about cats. He had rescued Blackie when she was a tiny kitten abandoned near the mine, hearing her crying when he had clocked off from work one day several years earlier. As was his way, he would often complain that the 'bloody cat ate too much bloody cat food rather than catching bloody mice', but it was obvious he loved the cat very much.

Mr. Carter thrust the cat in the direction of his sister-in-law, Hilda Thornton-Browne hastily backing away with an expression of dismay. "Gordon, don't put it near me, I'm highly allergic to cats."

"Oh, that's right, I am a silly daft bugger I forgot," said Mr. Carter, a broad smile etched upon his face as he put the cat down and walked to the table, sitting down in his chair for lunch.

*

Gary had sat through numerous awkward lunches and dinners at his mother's house when her new husband Phil was there, and the man preferred to pretend that both he and Kenny were invisible. If Gary had arrived dressed up like Boy George and Kenny like a member of KISS, Phil probably would not even have noticed or cared. However, this seemingly simple casual lunch at the Carter house - sandwiches and tea - was among the most awkward he had ever sat through.

While Gordon Carter would never have normally sat at the table for a meal wearing filthy gardening clothes and covered in dirt, manure and sweat, he did just this today to make a point with his despised in-laws, deliberately acting boorishly by eating with his mouth open and noisily drinking his tea, once gargling it like it was mouthwash . Richard and Jonathon Thornton-Browne spoke at length about merchant banking and how much money they made, while Mrs. Thornton-Browne was keen to boast about how well Jonathon and Felicity were doing at university. Seemingly, the fact that the said university was so exclusive and expensive, and that Jonathon and Felicity had attended two of London's best boys' and girls' schools that charged annual fees that exceeded the total income of the Carter family was the reason the Thornton-Browne kids had a far brighter future than working-class kids who attended a government school which they left at age 15 or 16 to take up an apprenticeship, such as Julie, Paul and Gary.

Even while boasting about her children's accomplishments at their prestigious university, Mrs. Thornton-Browne did not say that Jonathon and Felicity 'studied' Economics and Law respectively, but rather that they 'read' Economics and Law. This rather out dated expression made everything sound ten times more pretentious than it actually was.

Mr. Carter made conversation of his own, talking about gardening or more specifically the manure he used to grow vegetables at the allotment. He also spoke at length about wildlife documentaries he had seen on the television, describing in great detail one about how crocodiles and alligators kill and eat their victims; dispatching them with a death roll before submerging the carcass underwater then returning when the body of the prey animal had begun to rot, ripping off huge chunks of decaying flesh and swallowing them whole.

One subject not discussed was the strike. Gary could tell that Mr. Carter wanted to talk about it to make his opinions known to the Thornton-Browne family, but was determined not to be the one to bring it up. Likewise, the Thornton-Browne's were no doubt aware that mentioning the strike would send Gordon Carter on one of his rants, so they did not mention it either.

Again, Gary was puzzled by how much criticism Paul and Julie had heaped upon Felicity. While the girl did show repulsion at her uncle's appearance and choices of conversation at the table, this was entirely understandable given how awkward things were. However, she mainly stayed quiet, only speaking about university and school when prompted to by her mother and never appearing to be boastful or pretentious.

The long-suffering Mary Carter sat in silence through the lunch, while Paul treated it like a source of entertainment, like he was watching a play. The young man wanted more than anything for his father to give his stuck-up relatives a piece of his mind about the strike, but like his Dad was determined that the Thornton Browne's be the ones to bring up the subject.

Julie was the first to make good her escape from the awkward family lunch, the girl having a good excuse; she was doing Becky's hair and the hair of Becky's older sister and mother for the wedding later in the day.

Shortly after Julie's departure, Felicity got to her feet. "I might go outside and get some fresh air, I have a slight headache," she said as she left the room.

Listening to Richard Thornton-Browne talking at length about the American stock market, as though anyone cared, Gary began plotting his escape and quickly thought up a reason to leave the table. He got to his feet. "Sorry, but I forgot something. I need to check my bike, I was thinking yesterday front tyre had a slow puncture, and I want to see if it has gone down any more."

Hastily making his exit, Gary headed out the front door, seeing Felicity standing outside. "How's your headache?" Gary asked.

Felicity gave him a smile. "I don't actually have a headache, it was an excuse to get out of there. Everything was pretty awkward."

"Yeah, I thought that too," Gary agreed.

Felicity sighed deeply. "Uncle Gordon does go on."

"Well, he's got a lot on his mind lately with the strike and everything," said Gary.

"Of course, the strike," said Felicity. "You can't miss it around here, can you?" The girl indicated posters further along the road which bore slogans such as 'Coal Not Dole'; 'Support Your Mates - Strike' and 'The Miners United Will Never Be Defeated'.

"Yeah, it's important to everyone," said Gary. "It's important we stand up for our jobs."

Felicity shrugged. "You don't think you're actually going to win, do you?"

"Yeah, of course," said Gary. "If we stand firm, we can make Thatcher and her government back down."

Felicity laughed, her giggle irritating Gary but not so much as her next comment. "Oh, it's so wonderful that you and your friends actually believe that."

"What?" asked Gary, his expression sour. "You make it sound like you think that coal mines getting shut down is a good idea."

Felicity regarded Gary with a smug expression. "I think it is a good idea. Coal mining is uneconomical, and it is important that our government takes action to correct this."

"You sound like you actually like Thatcher," said Gary, the young man's blood pressure rising by the second.

"I think Mrs. Thatcher is doing an excellent job at fixing the British economy," said Felicity, as she preened her hair. "It's important that the government does not allow the unions to dictate industrial relations, and stand in the way of important economic reforms. It costs more to operate the coal mines than the revenue received from coal sales, and therefore logic dictates that they must be closed."

Gary was outraged. "What about us? Those of us who work in coal mines. Your Uncle Gordon. Your cousin Paul. Me. What happens to us if we get laid off?"

"You'll just have to accept it and find other jobs," said Felicity.

"In case you hadn't noticed, there's not a lot of jobs around here, and if the mine closes, even less. What do we do then? I've got a daughter to support ..."

Felicity raised her eyebrows. "You have a daughter?"

Gary could see her expression as she processed this new information, marking him down as some irresponsible loser who knocked up a girl at a young age and was now forced to pay maintenance. "Don't you judge me!" he snapped.

"Did I say anything to judge you?" Felicity asked. "I don't think so. It sounds like you might be the one judging yourself."

"You don't know bugger all about me," said Gary.

"True, I don't know much about you," said Felicity. "But I do know that you like my uncle and cousin are obsessed with keeping open a coal pit which has absolutely no future."

"Of course it has future," said Gary. "Our pit is one of the biggest in England. There's enough coal down there to last more than a hundred years. Same goes for hundreds of other pits around the country. Maybe you should go to one of the geology lectures at your fancy university so you actually know how it all works."

Felicity put a patronizing tone into her voice. "Oh yes, we always need coal. To power the steam trains and steam ships, and to supply electricity generators who are coming up with more efficient ways than burning coal to produce power? To export it to countries that can produce their own coal at less cost or import it much cheaper from other countries? Yes, I see your point now Gary. I've changed my mind."

"So, we all get chucked on the scrap heap and on the dole because your friend Mrs. Thatcher and her government think it's not worth producing coal?" demanded Gary. "How would you like it if a prime minister came in who shut down all the universities, and you couldn't become a lawyer like you want?"

"Oh Gary, we both know that will never happen," said Felicity, her demeanor smug and self-assured. "We know that this country will always need lawyers, and my future as a barrister will be secure. Because you and the rest of your friends who are carrying on this pathetic strike that you'll never win can't see beyond working dangerous, dead end, unqualified jobs in a filthy hole in the ground, you have no hope for a bright future at all."

"Shows how much you know," said Gary. "I've done my apprenticeship in mechanics, got my trade certificate, and I work on the maintenance team with your Uncle Gordon and Paul."

"Wow, I'm really impressed now," said Felicity sarcastically.

"You know something Felicity?" Gary asked. "You're not nice."

"Ouch, that one hurt Gary," said Felicity. "Come on, is that really the best you can do?"

"Why don't you and your family just sod off back to London where you belong," grumbled Gary, frustrated that Felicity was winning this battle of wills.

"Oh don't worry, we'll be going back tomorrow," said Felicity. "Back to where we live in the present and look into the future, not around here where everyone's stuck in the past, their heads down a mineshaft."

"Yeah, thank God for that," said Gary. "What are you going to do when you get back to London? Go to your Conservative Club, and bow down to a statue of Margaret Thatcher?"

"As a matter of fact, Mum, Dad, Jonathon and I are all members of the Conservative Party," said Felicity.

"Yeah, that don't surprise me," mumbled Gary.

"I'm with the local branch of the Young Conservatives," said Felicity. "In fact, I'm our group's secretary. Perhaps you could travel to London, come along to one of our meetings, and get a different point of view on all this? You must have plenty of time on your hands at the moment."

"I'd rather have an elephant sit on me, get gored by a rhino or get attacked by a swarm of killer bees, I couldn't think of anything worse than going to a meeting of Young Conservatives," said Gary bitterly.

"Suit yourself, then," said Felicity, seeing her parents and brother leaving the house. "I'd love to stay and chat with you longer, but I have to go now. Perhaps we can continue our debate at the wedding?"

"Not bloody likely," said Gary.

"Again, suit yourself," said Felicity, turning and walking towards her family.

"I was worried the car might not be here when we came out," said Mr. Thornton-Browne to Jonathon. "Or that its appearance might have changed somewhat."

"Yes, around this type of neighborhood, anything is possible," observed his son, the young man casting distasteful glances around the street and everything in it, Gary included.

Still fuming, Gary watched Felicity climb into the back of her parents' car alongside her brother, the girl giving him a provocative little wave as Mr. Thornton-Browne drove away, a smug smile etched on her face. Gary could not work out why Felicity had gotten under his skin so much more than the rest of her family. Her mother, father and brother were all dreadful snobs and irritated Gary no end, but at least they were open about it and none had really broached the subject that was the most emotive for Gary, the strike and the uncertain future he and thousands like him were facing. Felicity was like a snake in the grass, staying concealed then striking with a full bite of venom.

Paul emerged from the house. "Hey Gary, what's up mate?" he asked, noticing Gary wore an expression like a thunderstorm about to explode.

"Your cousin is a bitch," Gary fumed. "A stuck-up, stupid, self-important, condescending little Conservative cow!"

Paul laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, the sky is blue, it's cold in winter, hot in summer, sun rises in east and sets in west and Felicity is a bitch. Why are you telling me things I already know?"

*

"Did I mention that Felicity's too smart for her own good?" Gary asked Julie and Paul.

Several hours had gone by, and they were now at the garden where the wedding was to be held. Gary and Paul were wearing suits - the only suits the two young men owned - and Julie looked pretty as ever in a red dress. Gordon and Mary Carter were nearby talking to other relatives. Mr. Carter had taken a bath and was likewise smartly attired in a suit, while Mrs. Carter wore a green, flowery dress.

"Yes, you did Gary," said Paul.

"Several times," said Julie.

"Have I told you that she's a snob?" Gary asked.

"Yes, many times," said Paul, more than a little frustrated. In the time between the Thornton-Browne family leaving the house to go to their hotel and now, Gary had spoken of nothing else but Felicity. At first Paul had borne the brunt of this alone, but when Julie returned Gary had talked her head off too, and now she was also thoroughly exasperated.

"Gary, you're getting obsessed by Felicity," said Julie. "You've talked about nothing else for hours now."

"I'm not obsessed with her," said Gary defensively. "I don't care about her one way or the other."

"Mate, you're fixated," said Paul.

"I'm not fixated," said Gary. "Just who does she think she is, coming up here, shooting off her mouth about miners and things she knows bugger all about?"

"Aunt Hilda, Uncle Richard, Cousin Jonathon, they're all snobs like Felicity, probably worse," said Julie. "Why aren't you going on and on about them?"

"Nah, Felicity is the worst," said Gary. "She thinks she's so much better than everyone else. Let me tell you something, when Felicity's sitting on the toilet with her knickers around her ankles, she's no different from any of the other girls around here."

Paul and Julie recoiled with repulsed expressions etched on their faces.

"Thanks Gary, those are images all never get out of me mind," said Paul.

"Yeah, same here," said Julie. She turned to Gary with a smile on her face and said, "I think you might have a bit of crush on Felicity."

"No, I don't, I bloody hate her," said Gary.

"You keep going on and on about her, and you're real defensive," teased Paul.