‘Drive on further, Harry,’ he instructed, pointing to a curved track which ran up to the front of the brick-built office standing to the left of the workings. Behind the low building which ran into sheds and store-rooms were the chimneys which cast long shadows. Around them the moor seemed undisturbed by this man-made intrusion, and set against the pale blue sky and distant white clouds the seagulls wheeled and called while below them kites silently hovered over their prey. Sam had never allowed Hannah down into the mine but now as he helped her from the trap she asked him again. He shook his head, his hand tipped far back and his ginger hair, clean and free from oil, fell down on to his forehead. ‘Your father would not approve,’ he repeated, ‘and besides, it’s bad luck for women to go down amongst the darkness. The men would object.’ So it would just be Harry and he was pleased because they were already one day late. Serve her right to stand there with a face down to her boots, he thought.
