Crow Stone. Jenni Mills

and secures it on top of her head with a bulldog clip. She’s not finding it easy to meet my eye.

      ‘Well …’ She faces me, and looks angry, helpless. ‘Oh, rats, this is awful.’

      ‘Cough it up.’

      ‘Ted’s crew have complained. Say they don’t want a woman working underground.’

      ‘Thought so. I could see it in their faces yesterday.’

      ‘But they can’t stop you, can they? It’s sex discrimination, surely.’

      My fingers find a dried-up wad of gum on the underside of my desk, and pick away at it. ‘Well, technically it is. But …’ I don’t know why I’m so calm.

      The door opens, letting in more needles of freezing air. It’s Gary. He’s furious. ‘I’ve just heard.’

      He can’t stand still. He’s striding up and down our tiny seraglio, which gives him about one and a half steps before he bangs into Dickhead’s stool. In the end he gives up and sits down on it abruptly.

      ‘Heard?’ I say.

      ‘You must know. Fuck, I can’t believe it. The free miners say it’s bad luck to have a woman underground.’

      ‘Yep. Brendan wants to see me.’

      ‘I don’t know what the hell he thinks he can do about it. They’re threatening to quit. I’ve just had three in my office, claiming the last time a woman went into the workings there was a collapse the following day. That was you, by the way, Rosie. I can’t believe—’ He slaps his hand on Dickon’s desk. A nasal spray teeters on the edge, and falls to the floor. He looks at me properly for the first time since he came in. ‘Why aren’t you more upset?’

      I glance down at my ragged fingernails. ‘I am upset.’

      ‘You don’t bloody show it. I suppose you’re used to it …’

      ‘Actually, no, I’m not.’ Suddenly I am angry, after all, really angry. I can feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, and a terrible wobbly feeling round my jaw, but I’m buggered if I’ll give in to it. ‘I’ve been all over the fucking world and nobody’s ever refused to work with me before. And now a bunch of superstitious, pig-thick …’