It didn’t look good, his da had said quietly, and he just hoped the trade union leaders in every industry would hold firm. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make the coal owners and other big manufacturers who controlled the docks and the railways and factories and the rest of it treat their employees fairly. But if one of the trade unions caved in it would rock the boat and they’d all sink. It’d been bad enough in 1921 when every colliery in the country was closed and padlocked by the coal owners for thirteen weeks to force miners to agree to their wages being reduced and the working day being longer. The miners had lost that fight. They couldn’t afford to lose this one.

Adam stretched and reached for the cup of tea Olive had placed by his elbow ten minutes ago. It was cold now but he didn’t mind that; he took a bottle of cold tea to the pit each day along with his bait and he’d grown to like it. You could get used to anything if you had to.

The last thought brought his eyes to Olive for a moment. The old saying as he remembered it was that familiarity bred contempt; well, he’d started off his married life full of contempt for the woman who had tricked him into marrying her and ruined his life, but over the years that emotion had faded. Living with her, and in spite of himself, he had to admit, he’d slowly come to reluctantly admire her strength and grit. He’d put her through hell on a daily basis, and even now he felt she’d brought that on herself, but whatever the ins and outs of it she had never whinged or complained. Nor had she refused him his conjugal rights in spite of the way he’d handled her. His meal was always ready when he came home of an evening; his slippers would be warming on the hearth, and she kept the bairn and the house spotless.