‘If you had a procession of a hundred or two hundred strikers following an engine driver and arguing with him, you would call upon them to disband?’ the judge queried.
‘I would perhaps, if I thought they were all after the engine driver, but I could not stop those who had business on the street. The policy of the union is to preserve the peace. So far as I am aware this policy has been carried out during the strike.’
Justice Bellworthy instructed William to sit down. He called several more defendants, who not being as articulate as William, called witnesses in their defence. His Honour summed up at the end of the session commenting that the most remarkable feature of the evidence deduced so far was that none of the defendants admitted taking an active part in the demonstrations against Leggot, nor did they seem to understand for what purpose the crowd had assembled.
The court adjourned for lunch. Jack leaped to his father’s side. ‘You were great, Da,’ he said.
William tried to be gruff. ‘You should be in school.’
‘Yeah.’
There wasn’t anything William could say to that. He was suddenly crowded by supporters, some shaking his hand. ‘It ain’t over till the fat lady sings,’ William advised. But the strikers were jubilant. ‘She’s sung.’
Archie led Mary out of court. A weak sun tried to dry the sodden ground.
‘How do you think it went, Archie?’ Mary asked.
Archie smiled. ‘If William’s found guilty I’ll eat my hat.’
Mary threaded her arm through Archie’s.
‘I think it’s time I treated you to a fish supper,’ he said smiling at her.
Mary adjusted her hat. Archie looked wonderful in his best suit and he was buoyant. She almost felt like they could have been a normal courting couple far away from the strife in Waihi.
* * *
Archie put his face to Mrs. Tattersall’s window which was steamed up. ‘We won’t get a seat,’ he said.
Mary pulled him away from the shop front. ‘Don’t let’s,’ she said. ‘Don’t spend money on me.’
They wandered away from the crowds to slowly make their way home eventually coming to the church. Archie stopped and sat Thomas on the wall then he helped Mary up. ‘Let’s sit a while.’
He climbed up next to her and took her hand in his.
‘I remember my first day in this town,’ he said smiling. ‘You chased me out of the house with my lunch.’ He laughed. ‘I’d finished my business by lunchtime but I was scared to go home. I sat on this very spot and wondered what the future held for me.’
Archie squeezed Mary’s hand before tracing her fingers with his own.
Mary gazed into his eyes. ‘You weren’t frightened of me, my love?’
‘You’re a formidable woman, Mary,’ Archie replied. ‘In a gentle way. You don’t even realise it.’
She dropped her gaze. ‘Oh.’
Archie tipped her chin and held her sea grey eyes. ‘And I so love you, Mary Bell. I love you with all my heart. Will you be my wife? When all this is over?’
‘Oh, Archie.’
Mary leaned against Archie and whispered. ‘Yes, darling. I will be your wife. I love you.’
They nuzzled, thrilling to each other’s touch.
Archie pulled away. ‘You’ve made me a very happy man, Mary.’
She smiled and whispered. ‘I couldn’t be happier, Archie.’
Thomas began to fidget, banging his feet against the wall.
‘I’d better get going,’ Archie said jumping down. ‘Why don’t you have the afternoon off? I’ll see to the children.’
Mary leaped off the wall and kissed Archie on the cheek. Her heart felt like it would burst. ‘I love you Archie Wright, more than anything.’
* * *
Mary’s step was light as she walked home. Suddenly everything looked different; the muddy road didn’t look that bad and would soon be dried by the spring sun, the daffodils held their heads proudly, just daring Mary to pick them, and there was the hint of a summer day yet to come.
As she approached the music academy Mary noticed the blinds pulled. She frowned, wondering if she’d forgotten that perhaps Nell had gone away. She was in too good a mood to deviate: she simply had to get home to tell her mother the news.
But something changed her mind. She tried the door. It was locked. She went around the back and knocked. ‘Nell, it’s me, Mary.’ She tried the door and it opened. ‘Nell,’ she called again, letting herself in.
The blinds were drawn here as well. Mary walked through to the lounge. ‘Nell!’
Nell sat in the fireside chair seemingly oblivious to the cold morning and to Mary. She lifted unseeing eyes to Mary. Her heavily embroidered white nightdress disguised the weight she’d lost and her blonde hair hung about her shoulders uncombed. Her bare feet looked like a porcelain dolls.
‘Nell! What is it, Nell? What’s happened?’
Mary took Nell’s hands. ‘You’re frozen. Tell me what’s wrong, Nell.’
Nell continued to stare into nothingness as Mary wrapped a blanket around her shoulders then got the fire going.
‘Won’t you tell me what’s wrong, Nell?’
Nell slowly shook her head and then she whispered. ‘I didn’t feel like getting up today.’
‘Why not?’
Nell shook her head.
‘Can I open the curtains?’ Mary asked as she pulled them back. The sun streamed in casting a warm glow over the room. Mary smiled at the photos propped up on the sideboard until she recognised a tiny black and white photo of Gerald. She picked it up and read the back. ‘So you don’t forget me,’ it said.
Mary felt her legs weaken. Her mind filled with images: Nell and Emily plotting campaign strategies while Gerald opined helpfully, Gerald’s absences and Emily’s wrong assumptions, Nell comforting Emily after Gerald’s death. Then the imaginings took over. Nell and Gerald sharing a kiss, a cuddle, making love.
Mary gasped, surprised that she’d been holding her breath. As she replaced the photo she felt scarlet creep into her neck. She stared at Nell. Did her father love this woman? Did he really love her mother and Nell?
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Mary asked.
Another mute shake.
‘I’m sorry,’ Mary whispered. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I don’t know what to say.’
This time Nell nodded and her eyes filled so quickly with tears that they spilled over her cheeks. Still she did not move. She let them fall silently.
Mary fixed Nell something to eat then left. Her heart didn’t feel so light now and her head was clouded with memories and confusion. She’d never ever suspected. How could her father do such a thing? She tried to envisage her father as Nell did, and as Emily did. They loved him, they both did. Both women loved her father in exactly the same way as she loved Archie. Was that so hard to comprehend? Was it wrong? Nell’s grief was as real as Emily’s but there had been no one there for Nell. Still there was no one.
Mary recalled the day of the funeral. Emily was supported by her family, Gerald’s children. Nell was beautiful and calm, and a rock for Emily. She’d cried. Her eyes were red even before the service. She cried at the service, and she cried at the graveside, delicately, no more than was expected from a friend of Gerald’s wife. Mary appreciated Nell’s heartfelt sympathy and had told her so. She could not have guessed that Nell’s grief was for her own loss. Poor Nell; alone in her grief for Mary’s father.
Suddenly Mary wished it wasn’t such a short walk home.
Chapter Twenty
Archie and William stepped off the train where Desmond Nickleback, president of the Auckland General Labourers’ Union met them.
‘There should be two or three hundred watersiders at the meeting,’ Desmond explained. ‘We’ve been busy lads. Auckland Tramways Union pledged a levy yesterday.’
William slung a duffel bag on his shoulder. ‘We need every penny, Desmond. Some unions aren’t sticking to their agreement.’
 
; The men climbed into a carriage which took them past the newly constructed Seafarers’ Union building down to the wharves.
Desmond bit his thumbnail. ‘The Auckland Star says some of your lads have been in court for breaching the peace.’
‘I’m one of ‘em,’ said William. ‘The charge is for calculating to breach the peace. It’s rubbish!’
‘How did it go? Did you get off?’
‘Dunno yet,’ William replied.
‘William did a fine job,’ Archie put in. ‘He bloody should get off.’
Desmond nodded. ‘It’ll add weight to your speech. I’ll use it in your introduction.’ He looked for another fingernail to attack. ‘Do you know the ladies who spoke on the Thames?’
Archie jumped to reply. ‘Yes. Why?’
‘They got good press. Thought if they want to speak in Auckland I could arrange it.’
William smiled as he noticed Archie puff up.
‘Miss Bell, one of the speakers, is my fiancé,’ Archie explained. ‘The other lady is Isabelle McCardie, wife of Ian McCardie.’
Desmond nodded, impressed. Ian McCardie needed no introduction.
‘Isabelle is pregnant, quite far along,’ Archie continued. ‘There might not be time.’ He scratched his chin. ‘However, I would be happy to take Isabelle’s place.’
The carriage drew to a halt. ‘This is it gentlemen,’ said Desmond. They piled out where a crowd had already gathered.
Desmond introduced Archie and William who each spoke at length, putting the union’s position of the Waihi dispute before the men. Their words were met favourably.
‘We thank you for your financial support,’ said William. ‘So far the Federation has received over thirty five thousand pounds; nine thousand pounds of that coming from Australia. You are not alone helping us. The Waihi strikers have the support of the whole country. How can we lose when we have such fierce backing?’
The whole crowd cheered. William made sure the watersiders knew exactly the state of play. The watersiders would not back losers.
‘I don’t know how long the strike will last but I do know one thing.’ William raised a clenched fist in the air. ‘We will strike until we have unity.’
‘Unity! Unity!’ the men started chanting.
Desmond wound up the meeting and workers wandered back to their afternoon shift.
‘We’ve a couple of hours before the train,’ said Archie. ‘I’m in need of a drink.’
William grinned. ‘I’ll second that.’
They headed towards Queen Street, easily slipping into the urgent pace of the city. Archie hadn’t been in a city since Ballarat. It was exhilarating and yet lonely. He wished Mary was at his side. He suddenly had a thought.
‘Do you know where there’s a jeweller?’ he asked William.
William stopped and surveyed the street. ‘Used to be one in the next block.’
Archie darted off telling William to get the drinks in.
There was something about the window display, something about the reverence of the shop, notwithstanding the ticking of the dozens of clocks, that made Archie sweep his cap off his head as he entered. A little bell rang above the door and a woman looked up from serving a customer. Archie wandered over to the display cabinets. He was drawn to the gold. Mary had to have a gold ring; after all, it’s gold that’s brought them together. He sighed to himself. The prices were far beyond his means at this moment.
He pictured Mary’s delicate hands and imagined putting a ring on her finger. As he stared at the glistening display he remembered Ann’s rings. They were wrapped in her silk scarf carefully tucked into a wooden trinket box.
Archie put his hat on and stepped back out to the busy shopping street. It thronged with people, nearly every one of them wearing a gold ring, he surmised: perhaps even hewn from Waihi gold. As that thought materialised he vowed to use it when he spoke outside the town. It would make people feel connected to the strike. He smiled. His trip to the jeweller’s had given him two ideas and he didn’t have to spend a penny.
* * *
The men caught the afternoon train back to Waihi then walked into town. It seemed every bit as busy as Auckland in a different way. Coal smoke hung over the town and it was the first thing the men were aware of when they stepped off the train. It told them that this was home. Mounted police were more prominent for having been away for the day, where in Auckland they’d only seen one policeman. Massey’s Reform government fervently denied they’d been sent to the town to incite violence but that’s exactly what it felt like. There were too many men with idle hands, wiling away the hours drinking sly whisky, getting loud and threatening. The police were a natural target. There was an electric feeling in the air of Waihi, quite different from Auckland.
As Archie neared the Miners’ Union Hall there was the usual cacophony of picketers with their placards. Nine more men had gone before the magistrate today. The whole town was a buzz.
Archie patted his jacket pocket, feeling the small bottle. It spurred him on. He turned off the road and made for home. Mary would be waiting.
He let himself in. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the house and Mary ran to meet him. He handed her some jonquils he’d picked from Mrs. Pearson’s garden and embraced her with a kiss.
‘Put these in water,’ he said. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’
He went into his bedroom and upended his drawers until he found the trinket box. Memories flooded back as he caressed it. He opened it and Ann’s rings shone at him. Suddenly he knew it was right. Ann wouldn’t mind. She was a practical woman and wasn’t he just being sensible? Making do with what he had?
Mary was arranging the flowers when Archie asked her to sit. He kneeled alongside her and fumbled with the box.
‘Mary, my love,’ he said softly. ‘I want you to have these.’ He opened the box for her.
She inhaled sharply.
‘Mary, I know you should have your own rings, and you shall, I promise, my love.’ Archie searched her sea grey eyes, willing them to show him how happy he made her. ‘They’re Ann’s,’ he said. ‘But I want to make it real for you, for me. I want to do things properly for you.’
Mary stroked Archie’s cheek then accepted the box.
‘They’re beautiful, Archie,’ she whispered. ‘But what about Ann?’
‘Ann would say that Archie is being very practical and she wishes him happiness with Mary.’
‘Then I accept, Mr. Wright,’ she murmured and sealed it with a kiss.
Chapter Twenty One
The courtroom was packed as it was for every session. Today was sentencing day. The defendants presented to Justice Bellworthy one after the other. Seamus O’Hara, Billy Flynn, Erick Simons and Elijah Patterson all had their cases dismissed on the grounds there wasn’t enough evidence to convict or otherwise. The gallery cheered and hats were tossed in the air.
The magistrate was not impressed. He banged the gavel. ‘I have warned you repeatedly. This is not a side show. Bailiff, please call the next defendants.’
Fourteen men, including Floyd, were herded in. Floyd searched the room for Clara who had come early to secure a front seat. She cradled one month old Amy and clutched Tommy against her knee.
The magistrate ordered the men pay a ten pound suretie to keep the peace for twelve months. Three of the defendants found the money but eleven refused.
‘I have no option,’ the magistrate sighed, ‘but to sentence you to twelve months gaol.’
Clara gasped and nearly dropped the baby if it wasn’t for the woman who sat next to her.
‘It’s an outrage,’ the woman yelled at the judge. ‘Look what you’ve done. This woman needs a working man for a husband, not a petty criminal. It’s the engine drivers you should be sending to gaol.’
Justice Bellworthy couldn’t control the court now. Everyone was out of their seats yelling their opinions. He cracked the gavel on the bench before dismissing the court then banged it once more for effect.
>
The woman helped Clara. ‘Come on now, love. He’ll be all right. My Jimmy will see to him. Don’t you fret.’ She guided Clara out to the street where the crowd had swelled and mounted police pranced their horses menacingly around the edges.
‘Clara! Clara!’ It was Mary pushing through the throng, one hand holding a placard above her head.
At the sight of Mary Clara burst into tears. ‘What am I going to do, Mary?’ she wailed.
‘There there, Clara,’ Mary soothed. ‘It takes the fight to a whole new level.’
Clara sniffed. ‘I know. But it doesn’t help me, does it?’
Amy gurgled and Tommy clutched his mother’s skirt.
Mary put an arm around Clara and led her away from the commotion. ‘Floyd will be absolutely fine, Clara.’
‘But he’s not a criminal.’
Mary stopped in her tracks and turned to Clara. ‘No, he isn’t a criminal. He’s a martyr to the cause. Floyd knows what he’s doing. Don’t be selfish, Clara. He needs you now more than ever to stand by him. You know what we talked about in the beginning? We must take our husband’s places if ever they couldn’t keep up the fight. Remember? This is your time, Clara. I want you to go to Nell’s. Wait there until I assemble the girls.’
Mary took a handkerchief from her purse. ‘Here. Tidy yourself up. Don’t let those policemen think they’ve got the better of you.’
Clara smeared the tears over her face. She looked back on the crowd that spilled out of the court. Two carriages pulled away with a few men chasing to keep up with them. Clara imagined she’d seen Floyd cast her a final glance. She threw her handkerchief to her face and sobbed into it.
* * *
Nell was having a better day. Mary was unexpectedly understanding. She hadn’t pried but Nell found that it was easy to talk to her about Gerald. Mary’s empathy had been a surprise; she wasn’t angry at Nell or at her father. She had every right to be. Mary hadn’t said she’d tell Emily but neither did she say she wouldn’t, although Nell felt Mary wouldn’t add to her mother’s grief.