Katy's Men

by Irene Carr

  Dear Katy,

  I am writing on behalf of my late wife, Winnie, at her request. She had a nasty turn a week or two back and wrote the enclosed in case something happened and I think she knew something she did not tell me because she didn’t want me to worry. I came home from the dockyard on Thursday and found her lying dead in her chair. She had told me she had to send this to you in December, when you will be twenty-one, or earlier if anything happened to her, because that was your mother’s wish.

  Katy bit her lip and shook her head. Winnie Teasdale had been a dear friend of her mother and herself, had given her a home when she ran away from her father. She wept for sometime as Louise played around her feet unheeding. Katy finally wiped the tears from her eyes with a corner of her apron and read on. The rest was an outpouring of grief and hopes that she was well and settled now. He closed, ‘Best wishes for the future. From, Fred Teasdale.’

  Katy set that aside — then she realised the crawling Louise had found one of Matt’s spanners lying on the floor behind the desk. It was big, too heavy for Louise to lift, but Katy took it from her and pushed Beatrice’s doll into her arms instead. She put the spanner on a shelf by the door where Matt would see it and spread out the other sheets. Winnie had written:

  ‘I promised your mother I would give you the enclosed when you were twenty-one. That is why I insisted you write to me. I needed to keep track of you. She didn’t want to give it to you while you were only young and at home because she was afraid your father would get hold of it. Ethel wanted you to have it because you were always her lass, the one she could rely on, while the others sided with their father. The building society knows all about you and that you are to have it when you turn up with the book. This money was left to your mother by your Aunt Augusta. Do you remember, when your aunt died, your mother left you to look after the two boys? Well, she came to me and asked me to go to the house in Gosforth . . .’

  The maid had gone with them. She had a key and let them in but declined to go further into the house: ‘Not with her dead upstairs. I found her and that’s enough.’ She pointed to a small table in the hall, ‘That’s the death certificate the doctor left. As soon as I’ve got my money, I’ll be off.’

  Ethel Merrick paid her out of her own purse, almost emptying it, and the girl scuttled away down the street. Ethel whispered to Winnie, ‘It’s upstairs. In her bedroom.’ She led the way, the stairs creaking under them, up to and into the bedroom. The curtains were drawn but in the dim light they could make out the still form lying under the sheet. Ethel lay flat on the floor, face-down and wriggled under the bed. It appeared to have been regularly swept, probably with a long-handled brush, because there was little dust or fluff. She prised at a board and a section of it, some two feet long, lifted under her hands. She peered down into the hole between the rafters and saw a ladies’ leather handbag. It chinked as she lifted it out, weighty in her hands. She turned her head to look back at Winnie, kneeling by the side of the bed, and breathed, ‘Got it!’

  Ethel replaced the floorboard and joined Winnie. They stood together at the foot of the bed and Ethel said aloud but shaking with emotion, ‘Thank you, Aunt Augusta.’ They followed that with a silent prayer.

  The two friends left the house quietly and from there went to inform the undertaker. Then they moved on to the building society where they deposited the contents of the handbag — gold sovereigns — and instructions as to their disposal.

  Winnie finished: ‘Your mother left a letter with them to say the money was for you and I was to hold the book until you were twenty-one, or sooner if I thought fit. I think that time has come.’

  She sent her best wishes: ‘You’ve had a hard start in life through your father but I’m sure you will know happier days, as you deserve. I hope and trust, as your mother did, that the money will help towards this.’

  Katy sat back, the letter left on her knees as she held the savings book and thought about the two women in that house of the dead. She could remember Aunt Augusta, who had left what money she had to Katy’s mother — and who had no benefit from it because of Barney Merrick. Now it had come to her, Katy. She would be able to buy new clothes for Louise and Beatrice, possibly a new dress for herself — she needed one. There would be enough for that, surely? She opened the book and read the amount held on deposit: One hundred and twenty-seven pounds, fourteen shillings and eight pence.

  The figures blurred before her eyes as her hands shook. Then eyes and hands steadied as she gripped the book tightly. New clothes faded into insignificance. She was rich! She was independent! This would keep her and Louise for two years! If Matt got a job driving a lorry he would be paid one pound, ten shillings per week, seventy-eight pounds a year. She had nearly twice that amount because the account would have incurred interest!

  But she still mourned dear Winnie.

  Matt. Thought of him brought her up short. In her excitement and grief she had forgotten him and her situation — and her past. She remembered her despair on the night when she had come here and thrown herself on his mercy. He had taken her in. He could have seized on that moment when she would have done anything for the sake of Louise, but he had not.

  She sat in thought for some time and then determined on a course of action. At that point there came a pounding at the office door. Katy ran to answer it eagerly, thinking it might be someone come to offer work to Matt, forgetting that, without a horse to pull the cart, he could not take on work. She was in a buoyant, optimistic mood because of the letter. She opened the door and confronted Barney Merrick.

  Katy’s new-found hope turned to shock and dismay. Barney wore his suit, old, worn and shiny. His shirt was fastened at the neck with a collar stud but he wore no collar. He had not shaved for some days. He greeted Katy: ‘Aye, there y’are.’ Then he pushed past her into the office to sit on the swivel chair and gaze around him with his ice-blue, red-flecked eyes. ‘So this is the whorehouse. I always knew you’d go to the bad.’

  That shook Katy like a slap in the face. She was still too taken aback to say anything but, ‘How did you get here.’

  ‘On the train.’ Barney laughed unpleasantly.

  ‘I meant, how did you find out I was here?’

  Barney answered piously, ‘The Spargos. One o’ them wrote to me, doing his duty, and doing right by me. It’s my name you’re dirtying here.’

  Ivor. Katy knew it had to be him. He had written to Barney and told him where to find her. She was getting over her shock now, anger building inside her because he had come there at any time, let alone on this day of celebration, to try to spoil it for her. As he had spoilt everything. It was as if he had some evil second sight, to be able to choose the time he could cause most damage, most hurt.

  Katy now framed the inevitable question, the key to this visit: ‘What do you want?’

  Barney answered with a note of surprise in his voice, as if it was obvious, ‘I’ve come for what’s mine, my share of what you’ve been paid since you left the Spargos. I’ve not had a penny since then and I’m entitled. I’m your father.’

  It was as Katy had thought, he wanted money. Had that evil second sight told him that she would come into money that day? But it belonged to her — and Louise — a gift from Katy’s mother. She replied flatly, ‘You’ll get nothing from me.’

  Barney jerked forward in the chair, What!’ Katy took an involuntary step backward then stopped. She would not let him intimidate her. He snapped, D’ye mean you’ve spent it?’

  ‘No, I —’

  ‘He must ha’ paid you this last six months. You’re not saying you let him bed you for nothing!’

  ‘He doesn’t bed me!’ That charge enraged Katy. ‘I’m a housekeeper and respectable!’

  ‘Are ye?’ Barney sneered. ‘Then what about her?’ He jabbed a pointing finger at Louise. ‘Isn’t that a child of sin? I see a ring on your finger but I know you’re not married.’

  Louise, frightened by his bawling, began to wail and Barney grumbled, ‘Ca
n’t you shut that bairn up?’

  ‘I could but I won’t.’ Katy’s anger was at boiling point now. That he should talk of her daughter as he had enraged her more than had the other vile insults. She pointed to the door, ‘Get out of here!’

  ‘Don’t give me lip!’ Barney lifted his hand and Katy flinched instinctively, remembering how he had doled out punishment all her life, the word and the blow coming together, to leave her hurt, inside and out. That added fuel to her anger. He saw how she had reacted and he grinned, then let his hand fall to the desktop again. ‘Now you just give me what you owe me.’

  Katy now stood by the shelf alongside the door. She picked up the spanner she had set there and smashed it down on Barney’s hand. He shrieked with the pain of it and clasped it to his chest with his free hand. ‘You mad bitch!’ His face was contorted with agony. ‘What the hell did you do that for?’

  ‘You won’t lay a hand on me again.’ Katy held the spanner ready to strike again. ‘Get out while you’re still in one piece.’

  Barney glared at her for a moment, refusing to believe her, but then saw she meant it. He said, his tone still disbelieving, ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

  ‘What I did once I can do again,’ Katy answered grimly. She wondered, could she? But she jerked her head to indicate the door.

  Barney believed her now. He pulled himself out of the chair, cradling his throbbing hand, then sidled past Katy and out of the door. He halted then to accuse her, ‘You’re a child of the divil to do that to your own father.’

  Katy was unmoved by that: ‘I only know one devil and that’s my father.’

  ‘Was,’ Barney corrected her. ‘You’re no bairn o’ mine now and you can look for nothing from me. I’m disowning ye.’

  Katy replied inflexibly, ‘I’ve never looked for anything from you and never got anything.’ She prayed, For God’s sake, go!

  Barney spat at her, ‘Damn you to hell for an evil-tempered witch!’ He walked away across the yard but halted again at the gate to shout back at her, ‘Damn you!’ Then he was gone from her sight before the echoes ceased reverberating around the yard.

  Katy felt sick. She cuddled Louise and cried, until the child stopped wailing and struggled to be on the floor again. Katy set her down, washed Louise’s face and her own then sat in the swivel chair, staring out at the yard. She examined her conscience and decided she regretted nothing she had done. Her father’s threat to abandon her meant nothing because he had effectively done that years ago. That part of her life was over. She was done with him. Now she had to look forward.

  She could not foresee that he had not done with her.

  Katy thought again of the sum she now owned, the future it opened up for her, and this brought her back to a more cheerful mood by the time Beatrice and Matt came home. She said nothing to him about her father or the letter. Matt was also in good spirits: ‘I’ve got another job, driving a cart for a feller with a greengrocer’s shop. I looked in on him on the way home and he’s taking me on.

  The money isn’t good but it’s regular and it’ll keep us going until I can find something that pays more.’

  ‘Oh, good!’ Katy said delightedly. But she knew it was not good at all. He deserved better.

  Katy saw him off to work the next day with a packet of sandwiches for his lunch. Then she put the letter and building society book in her bag and Louise in her pram. With Beatrice trotting alongside she walked to Monkwearmouth station. There she boarded a train to Newcastle with the pram in the guard’s van. She was back in the flat in time to give Beatrice a late lunch, then sent her off to school with a note explaining her absence that morning, due to having to travel to Newcastle. She considered telling Beatrice not to mention the trip to Matt, but then decided that would only make the child more likely to blurt it out. As she did, greeting Matt when he came home from work with, ‘We went on a train today.’

  Matt looked questioningly at Katy and she explained casually, ‘I had to go to Newcastle.’

  Katy knew he must still be curious but said no more and he only commented, ‘Oh?’ He did not press for details.

  Katy broached the subject that night when the children were abed and asleep, and she sat sewing on one side of the fire while Matt read the Sunderland Daily Echo on the other. ‘Matt, could you buy a second-hand lorry for a hundred and fifty pounds?’

  He lowered the paper to smile at her bent head: ‘You could, and a good one at that, if you knew what you were doing.’

  ‘No, I meant yourself; do you know where you could put your hands on one if — just suppose — you had a partner who could put up the money?’

  Matt laughed, ‘Fat chance of that!’

  Katy smiled, ‘But just supposing?’

  Matt grinned, humouring her, ‘I could find one, a decent one, easily enough. Not in five minutes, but give me a day or two to look around. Maybe in Newcastle if not here. So if you know of anybody wanting to get into a promising little business on the ground floor, let me know.’ He raised the paper again.

  ‘I do. I’ve got a hundred and fifty pounds.’ Katy smiled up at him.

  Matt slowly laid down the paper and asked, disbelieving, ‘You’ve — what? I thought — when you came here you said—’

  ‘That I was broke?’ Katy cut in, nodding. ‘But I’ve had some money left to me. That was the news in the letter from Malta.’ She recited the details in the letter, then finished, ‘That’s why I went to Newcastle. I want to keep a bit back as a sort of insurance, just so I have some money, but I’ll put a hundred and fifty pounds into the business.’

  Matt said, ‘Good God!’ He ran a hand through his hair, shook his head, then grinned at Katy, ‘You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?’ And then more seriously, getting down to business, ‘And you want to be a partner?’ Then when Katy nodded, he added wryly, ‘Well, I don’t have to tell you that it will be a gamble. At the moment we haven’t even a barrow. How much of a share do you want for your money? Half?’

  ‘No.’ Katy bit off a cotton. ‘I’ll be helping in the office and any other way I can, but you will be driving and doing all the real work. I thought twenty per cent but I’ll take whatever you think is fair. I think I owe you that for taking us in — Louise and me, I mean.’

  Matt shifted uncomfortably. ‘You don’t owe me anything for that. It was the least I could do — and I wasn’t very civil about it at the time, as I recall.’ Katy saw his embarrassment and did not argue the point. He said, ‘I think you should take twenty-five per cent. From what I’ve seen, you’ll earn that.’

  Next day Katy gave him the money and he set off. She was too excited to wait patiently at the yard for his return. After Beatrice had gone to school she put Louise in the pram and hurried to Annie Scanlon’s house. Seated before the fire with a cup of tea, she told Annie, ‘You’ll never believe what’s happened to me.’

  Annie asked, ‘Something to do with that feller Ballard? Are you and him—’

  ‘Nor Katy laughed at the idea. ‘Nothing like that. Though it does involve him.’ And she told Annie all about her inheritance and the partnership. ‘And Matt’s out looking for a lorry now.’ Then she asked, ‘But will you keep that to yourself, Annie? About the money and me paying for the lorry. I think it will be better for business if Matt looks to be running it.’ She remembered how little respect was shown to Arthur Spargo by the men because it was known his wife ran his business.

  ‘Aye, I think folks prefer to deal with a man as the boss. And you can rely on me to keep quiet. I’m that pleased for you,’ Annie went on, holding Louise on her knee. ‘And how is the other little lass — Beatrice?’

  ‘She’s at school and loving it.’ Then Katy asked her, ‘Why don’t you call round when she comes home and have some tea?’

  So that afternoon they met in the flat over the office and Annie was seated on the floor, playing with Beatrice and Louise, when the lorry trundled into the yard. Katy, busy cooking dinner for that evening, wiped her hands on her apron and ran dow
n the stairs. Matt was climbing down from the cab of the lorry and he grinned at her and called, ‘Here she is, a three-ton Dennis. How do you like her?’

  Katy stood beside him and looked over the Dennis. ‘She looks all right to me.’

  Matt rubbed at an oily mark on the wing with a cloth. ‘She’s been worked fairly hard, four or five hundred miles a week, and she’s a bit dirty, but she’s in first-class order and she goes well.’ He winked at Katy, ‘The feller was asking a hundred and forty but I knocked him down a fiver.’ He started to walk around the lorry: ‘I’ll make a start on cleaning her up tonight and tomorrow I’ll service her. Then we’ll be back on the job.’

  Katy could see his thoughts were already on what he had to do, and planning. She called, ‘Matt! Matt!’ And when he turned she told him, ‘Annie Scanlon is upstairs. I asked her round for a bite and the dinner’s just about ready, so can you put the lorry in the shed until tomorrow — please?’

  He agreed, reluctantly. Katy smiled to herself and thought he was like a child told he could not play with his toy, but he greeted Annie pleasantly and they ate a cheerful meal. He talked a good deal about the lorry, and at one point stopped and grinned at Katy, ‘I should say “our lorry”. And to Annie, ‘I expect Katy told you about her bit o’ luck?’

  ‘Aye, she did. She told me about the partnership as well and I promised to keep it to myself.’

  He stared, surprised, and Katy put in quickly, ‘I think it would be better if the firm was still in your name and people were just dealing with you.’

  Matt shrugged, ‘If that’s what you want.’

  ‘It is.’ Katy hesitated, then said, ‘I think it might be better if you didn’t mention it to your fiancée, either.’

  Matt’s brows came together. ‘What are you suggesting? I trust Fleur.’

  Katy stepped in quickly again, Of course, but I think if we keep this just among the people involved . . .’She let the suggestion hang there.

  Matt thought about it. He admitted to himself that Fleur was not interested in the firm but he argued, Why should she be? It might well be best to act as Katy suggested, and there would be no question of the yard being ‘under new management’. He grinned, ‘We wouldn’t have to paint those gates, changing the name to Ballard and Merrick.’