Chapter Text
29 October 2014
Ruby looked up at the brick entrance and tried to find the bravery to go inside. She’d been to the People’s Museum before with school. The suffragettes were amazing. But she was going to the archives today and that was much more full on. The material she’d been sent had said that she must use pencils not pens and it’d cost six quid a day to use a camera. She just wanted to see some papers.
A couple of weeks ago she’d been to see Pride with her friend Maisie. She’d cried and cried and cried. No-one had ever told her. She knew about the miners’ strike. Grandpa had been a miner and Gran had shown her a lump of coal and said it was the last he’d ever brought up. His lamp was on Gran’s mantelpiece. And Ruby’d been surreptitiously reading everything she could find about lesbians for a few years now. But no-one had told her that lesbians had collected money to support the miners or that miners had supported gay rights.
She had stayed up till four in the morning that night reading everything she could about Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners. When she got home from school the next day she’d had a nap and then she’d started looking again. The actual documents of LGSM were here in Manchester.
So here she was, outside the People’s Museum, feeling like a fraud. She’d bunked off her last class, since the museum was only open till five. She better go in.
When she asked for directions no one said to her, “You shouldn’t be here. You’re not a real researcher. You’re just a girl.” She’d locked her stuff away and paid a pound deposit for her locker. Now she was standing in front of a grey-haired lady at a desk.
“Um, hi I’m Ruby – I made an appointment. I’m here to see material from Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners.”
“Hello Ruby, love. I’ve got everything ready for you – there’s just some things I have to go through first.”
Ruby knew everything the woman said – about how important it was that these records were kept safe. She’d read the instructions about pencils and keeping everything in order. But the librarian made it seem very serious. Ruby needed to be good to the pieces of paper.
Then she was sitting down and reading the actual minutes – all type-written by Mike Jackson, who she knew from the movie and the behind the scenes footage. She read of money and meetings and visits to Wales with donkey rides.
“Oh love, I got you out a Manchester LGSM file as well – if you want to look at that.” The grey -haired archivist brought over one more file.
There weren’t many documents in the file. There were two sets of minutes; whoever took them hadn’t been as thorough as Mike Jackson. But underneath the minutes was something else, scrappy bits of paper:
29 September 1984
Dear Louis,
Here’s the photo I promised you. Like I said, I don’t know much about politics – or anything really. And lots of what I knew seems to be wrong. But I admire you so much for fighting – not just for yourself but for everyone you know. I want to be someone like that one day. Someone who is brave enough to fight. I’m trying to learn more about the strike and politics in general. There’s a lot to learn!
I developed the photo myself. It was strange to have control over your image – the darks and the shades. When I met you – you were so very much yourself – I can’t imagine anyone adjusting the knobs on you so you appear a little different.
Harry
Ruby had found the minutes interesting; she really had. But these letters were something else. They felt like love letters.
And there was a reply.
1 October 1984
Dear Harry
Thanks for the picture. Mum loved it so much I had to give it to her (it made it easy to get her to give me a stamp to write back and say thank you. Thanks from her too.)
You made me look so strong – I don’t know if that’s really true, but it’s nice to be seen like that. I feel like lots of people adjust the knobs on me. Obviously the Coal Board are doing that right now. Trying to make us disappear or invisible or not miners anymore. Trying to pretend that none of us exist.
But also I feel like I tweak a bit around everyone. It feels like I have to. Maybe not around you. I didn’t feel like I was tweaking myself around you.
I wish I could see the darkroom and watch you develop photos. Will you show me? If I’m ever in Manchester again.
We really need there to be power cuts this winter – so that it’s clear that the government needs us.
Things aren’t perfect as they are – but imagine them being worse. Imagine being a young lad and not having a job and there being no jobs for you. Imagine how the bosses will be able to push people around.
We should make the world better for people coming after us – that’s what I was always taught in the union. That’s the whole point of a union. And if we don’t win – it’s going to get so much worse.
Sorry I’m ranting at you. I’m doing some more speaking next week – Leeds and maybe York. It’s scary, but nice I think. It’s pretty amazing when a room full of people laugh at your jokes and maybe agree with you. I can’t have done that terrible a job last time.
They won’t be as good as Manchester though. That would be impossible.
Louis
PS Don’t sell yourself short. You’re so brave. You shone so brightly to me.
3 October 1984
Dear Louis,
Thanks for your letter. I’ve developed some more photos with you in them. One of you speaking, which your Mum might like. And one of drinking afterwards (will your Mum like that? You don’t need to show her if you don’t want to). I’ve included a book of stamps so you don’t have to use hers.
I hope your Mum and Dad and your sisters are all alright. I was walking past a shop and saw some stickers for school books. My favourite part of going back to school was always decorating my exercise books. I bought some stickers for your sisters.
I’m glad you’re speaking in Leeds – you should go to York as well. If I hadn’t met you just beforehand I would never have believed you were nervous. You were so good Louis. I knew even less about the strike than I let on. People had sort of explained it to me and I saw that I was wrong – that you should support the miners, but I didn’t really understand. And then you talked and it all made sense. Keep going – talk to everyone.
I’m taking more pictures. We have to do a big project this year – photos all on the same theme. Sometimes I like photographing buildings. Sometimes I like photographing people. Sometimes I like doing weird abstract stuff that isn’t anything. My tutor says that’s alright. At the moment, we’re supposed to be developing two or three different options for our big project.
I went to the Rem last night – with Nick and other people you might have met. I find it so overwhelming. All the men together – I didn’t know it could be like that. It’s hard to get used to. And the way people feel free to be so different. To dress like women and not hide. I thought of you and wished you were there with me.
Harry
5 October 1984
Dear Harry
Mum loves the photos – including the one at the pub (she likes a pint herself so it’d be hypocritical if she had a problem with me being there – although she is always on at me to give up smoking. I think the silver lining about the strike is I’ve barely been able to afford fags.) I do too – you take amazing photos Harry. I’d love to see any more photos you have of buildings, people or stuff (what I’d like most is one of you).
And Phoebe and Daisy – the twins – love the stickers. That was so lovely of you – you haven’t even met them. There’s no money for stickers. They’re big girls now and they understand, but it doesn’t make it easy. If you ever come to Edlington, there’ll be two eight-year olds who love you already.
I remember the first time I went to The Rem. I didn’t go home with anyone that night, or really talk to anyone. I just needed to see it all to believe it was there. I remember seeing two men sitting up together in the corner – and they looked a bit like Mum and Dad, just in the way they were positioned. I could barely believe it was real. I wish I could come with you too. I’d be loud now. Loud and enjoy it all. Maybe we could dress up a bit together
I did go to Leeds and I am going to York next week. Thanks for telling me I’m not rubbish. It’s so scary speaking in front of these students who you know think you’re thick. But I do it, because we need everybody. I like it when they laugh. When I get scared I think of what you told me, just before I went on.
Here are a couple of badges from our pit – wear them for me?
Louis
8 October 1984
Dear Louis,
Thanks so much for the badges – I wear them every day alongside the Coal not Dole badge I got from Niall (the Irish Young Labour guy – he’s the person I ask questions, when I don’t understand. Him and Nick – but Niall seems to know the details more. I’ve realised that when Nick says – “fuck the Tories” or “fuck every fucking pig there is” – it means he doesn’t know or doesn’t know how to explain). I went collecting with the Young Labour people at the supermarket. We got good money I think – and lots of people said nice things. I’m not good at answering questions, but I tried. I wish I could do more. Niall was explaining that industrial workers need to go on strike to support you. But I can’t really do that.
I’m going to try and get a job though – I want to find work at a place that does photo development or camera stuff. I could get a discount on film, it’ll supplement my grant and I’ll learn lots. I probably won’t go on strike – but I will give some of the money I earn to the miners. I never can figure out if they’re collecting for you. I know you said your family doesn’t take money from the union because your Mum is working – but I like the idea of supporting your pit.
I hope you like the photos I included. One is from a lesbian and gay soc meeting. The focus on the glass looks arty – but it was actually to make people unidentifiable. I also took a photo of Niall collecting for the miners – the woman who was giving him money looked so supportive (and he said she put in twenty quid!) The one of the union building is the photo my tutor says is the best. I think he likes buildings more than people. But I think I want to photograph people. The photo of me isn’t very good. It’s hard to take a photograph of myself.
Harry
There didn’t appear to be a reply to that one, but there was another, undated.
Dear Harry
You’re sleeping beside me (God knows how with the racket my sisters are making this morning). This isn’t a proper letter. I’m going to send it when I take you to the train later on today. I want you to get it tomorrow: a record of how happy you make me and how much I’m going to miss you.
Love
Louis
And one more, after the end of the strike.
15 June 1985
Haz
You can’t say things like that. You can’t. This last year is like I’ve been attacked by some kind of wild animal and none of the wounds have healed. Not just for me, for everyone here.
I went to see Mum today while she was at work. I looked at the babies, which made me feel a bit better. And she told me that I needed to imagine what my life might look like if I wasn’t a miner.
It’s so scary – you’ve no idea how scary thinking of the future is. Because all I can see is years of having no purpose, nothing. All that stuff I said about the closing of the pits and there being no other jobs is true. What if mining is the last job I ever get? I don’t have any qualifications. I don’t know anything but coal. And that’s not going to help. I’m scared of being useless forever. At least during the strike I was doing something.
And you. Whenever I think about my future I think about you.
I love you. I love you and I still want everything we talked about for after the strike – a flat, moving to Manchester, being together. I want all of that and it’s not enough to see you on some weekends and talk on the phone where I’m scared I’m wasting your money.
But I just can’t leave now and I can’t think about what happens next and I don’t know when I will be able to think about it. I can’t help you plan your summer or your life.
I don’t want to mess you around – I want to be with you so much. Is it sex? I feel bad coming down and swooping you up and disappearing, leaving you without me and unable to explore. If you wanted to be with other guys until I moved to Manchester – as long as you didn’t tell me. Maybe. Probably not.
Pride is two weeks away. Can we talk then? I promise we can talk proper – I won’t try to distract you with kisses or getting you to talk about photography or anything. We can talk about what’ll happen for us.
This is rubbish, sorry, even with time and paper it’s not what I want to say.
I love you. I want you. Please believe me.
Love, love, love, love, love
Louis
That was it. Just these seven letters from Louis and Harry. Ruby wanted more. She wanted much more. What happened to them? Did they meet in London? Were they happy?
The librarian came over and told her that they were closing soon – did she want to do any photocopying? These seven letters were only 12 pages – £3.60. If she came back in a week, she could take copies home. She could read them again whenever she wanted. There was another Manchester LGSM file, perhaps she could learn more.
She put on her coat and scarf and hat. The sun had disappeared while she’d been in the 1980s. She walked to the station thinking of Harry and Louis.