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.Nulli Secundus -
'Second to None'
by Terence Cardwell
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Chapter
Six - Alathea
Joseph’s death was a terrible blow to Alathea and the
children, something that they would take a very long
time to recover from. And all the worse because it was
so unexpected for someone who was so strong and healthy.
The doctor told them the immense strain of holding the
pit prop up had burst a major artery in Joseph’s head,
causing a cerebral haemorrhage that built up pressure on
his brain until it killed him.
No
one expected a man so healthy and popular to die so
suddenly, and for what appeared to be no apparent
reason. Many townsfolk believed they owed Joseph a great
debt for saving their or their families’ lives. He had
sacrificed his life without any consideration for his
own wellbeing or safety.
Jack was devastated, blaming himself for his father’s
death: ‘If I hadn’t rescued the pit pony, Dad might
still be alive.’ The guilt boiled inside him, and it
hurt even more because he could not tell anyone. Not his
mother, nor his sisters, nor Thomas nor even his
friends.
‘If I tell them what really happened they would hate me
forever,’ he thought. He had no one to go to, and his
heartache ate at him like a cancer. His hate for the
mines increased even more.
The boys had lost their idol, almost a god in the way
they admired him. It tore at their souls, and they spent
many hours in quiet solitude remembering and finally
talking about the good times they’d had with their
father. Each day after work they would go to his grave
with their sisters to be close to him, sometimes picking
wild flowers on the way to put on his grave In the
beginning Alathea went with them, but it upset her so
much that they had to leave her at home.
Alathea loved him dearly.
Never once had she suffered any abuse, physical or
otherwise, at his hand. He had always been caring, and
showed affection when the children were not around. She
yearned for the feel of his body lying next to her in
bed— even dreamed of it; and many mornings awoke
desolated to find him not there. She would stroke the
pillow where his head had lain and hold the section of
the blanket that had touched his body. Sometimes she
would lie on his side of the bed as if to absorb his
spirit. Her most treasured possession was a battered
photo of him in his boxing pose, and she often held it
as she lay in bed sobbing quietly.
The emptiness and ache did not diminish, and as the
weeks and months went by she grew frailer. She ate very
little, having no appetite for food or outside
pleasures. She would nibble some bread or cheese when
her children encouraged her to eat, but that was only at
night time when they were at home from work.
Her eldest daughter Grace, who was married and had two
children of her own, came over to care for her, but she
could not ease her mother’s heartache.
‘Mum, you must eat. Dad would want you to,’ she would
urge. ‘You’ll make yourself sick, and where will the
kids be then? They can’t look after you when they’re at
work all day.’
‘It doesn’t matter, luv. With your Dad gone I’m not
interested in anything and the kids are old enough to
look after themselves. They’ll be all right.’
Grace did not like the ominous inference of the words.
‘Mum, you’ve got to keep going, see your grandkids and
watch the boys grow up to be like Dad. You’ve still got
so much to live for.’
But the words fell on deaf ears, and Alathea, weakened,
caught pneumonia from the cold Sheffield winter.
Grace called the local doctor who came immediately.
Alathea was lying in bed, covered to the neck in
blankets. Perspiration was running from her and her
breath came in short gasps. She was delirious and hardly
aware of her surroundings. Isobella, Annie and Adelaide,
Alathea’s other daughters, sat at the end of the bed
holding each other, tears running down their cheeks.
Jack and Thomas sat to either side of her, each holding
one of her hands.
‘Joseph, is that you, Joseph?’ she called, lifting her
head a little and looking around the room through glazed
eyes that stared into the .
‘No Mum, it’s not Dad,’ Grace said soothingly. ‘The
doctor’s come to have a look at you.’
He took her temperature, listened to her breathing
through his stethoscope and looked into her eyes with a
bright lamp. He stroked her brow and felt the heat from
her skin. The children watched intently, hoping he could
create some miracle and wipe away the fever.
The doctor straightened and led Grace gently by the arm
to the far side of the room.
‘There is nothing much I can do, I’m afraid. Your mother
has double pneumonia and a fever. I can make her
comfortable but the rest is up to God.’
‘How long do you think she has, Doctor?’ Grace asked
through her tears.
‘A day, maybe two at the most,’ he replied quietly.
‘I must confess I cannot pay you straight away, but when
I get some money I will give it to you as soon as I
can,’ Grace whispered, holding the doctor’s hand with
both of hers.
‘There is no charge, not for looking after the wife of a
man who has probably saved more lives than I have,’ he
replied. ‘I only wish I could do more.’ He let himself
out the door, closing it softly behind him.
Grace stood staring at the door, trying to accept the
doctor’s words. Her mother was dying and she could do
nothing about it. She had never felt so useless in all
her life. Her heart felt as if it was being crushed as
she turned to tell the children the terrible news.
Jack saw the tears running down Grace’s cheeks and knew
the worst without her saying anything. His heart seemed
to explode inside him and the tears that he had held
back came pouring from him in heavy sobs as he laid his
head on his mother’s chest, gripping the blanket in his
hands. In a rare show of brotherly love Thomas reached
across the bed and held Jack’s hand as the tears ran
silently down his cheeks, and he said quietly to Jack
and Grace, ‘At least Mum will be with Dad again, and
that’s all she wanted. We should be happy for her.’
The girls buried their faces in the blankets at the foot
of the bed, sobbing and holding each other. The only
words they could say were ‘Mum, oh Mum.’
The light was just breaking the night sky as Grace awoke
with her head resting on the foot of her mother’s bed.
She lifted her head quietly and listened. There was no
sound except for the heavy breathing of Thomas and Jack.
The girls were lying on a bed close by.
Grace looked at her mother, lying peacefully with her
eyes closed. A look of serenity was on her face, as if
she was pleased with the world. She watched her mother’s
chest and saw no movement. The perfect stillness told
her that Alathea had passed away whilst they were
asleep.
She chided herself for falling asleep and not being
awake if her mother needed her, while knowing well that
she could not stay awake forever. She looked at the
girls and the two boys asleep on either side of the bed.
‘These are my children now, and I have to tell them Mum
has gone. I hate to wake them.’
In spite of her reluctance she reached forward along the
bed and held each of the ’ hands. They stirred
immediately, used to being woken for work, but there
would be no work this day. They looked at Grace and,
realising, turned to their mother.
Neither could speak, but both wanted to scream. Tears
ran silently down their cheeks as they held their
mother’s lifeless hand. Thomas stroked her cheek with
the back of his hand, never wanting to lose the feel of
her soft skin. Jack held his mother’s hand for the last
time, remembering the feel of her gentle motherly grip
and knowing he would never forget her wonderful touch.
Grace woke the girls by gently shaking them.
‘Mum’s gone,’ she said with great difficulty, holding
back the sob in her throat.
The girls woke immediately and rushed to their mother’s
bedside. Jack and Thomas moved away to give them access.
The world tumbled in for all of them. The two most
important people in their lives were gone, and the
blackness that enveloped them would take many months to
ease. Jack felt a great pain inside and wanted to die
with his mother. There was nothing left worth living
for.
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