by Irene Carr
She stood up and went to where Ursula sat sleeping in the basket chair and gently shook her awake: ‘He’s gone.’
Her brothers and sisters came to the funeral and made some attempts at reconciliation but they tried to talk across too big a gap. Barney had left Katy with a
reputation and she was a stranger to them, their husbands or wives. Ursula had gone some way towards surmounting this barrier due to the two days she had shared with Katy the duty of caring for their father. But even she was not close, not easy with her sister. If anything the men were kinder than the women but still uncomfortable. Their spouses eyed this scarlet woman with her fine clothes warily. Hadn’t she a child born out of wedlock? Didn’t her father say she was without a husband and living with another man, not the father of the child? Katy saw their glances and guessed their import. The clothes had all been bought before the war and she reflected grimly that the way business was going she would not be buying any more.
Katy said nothing of the abduction of Louise. They could do nothing to help and she suspected the knowledge might only provoke further speculation about her, doubts as to whether she was wholly or partly to blame, had tailored a story to suit herself. Besides, Louise was hers, to love and worry over, and nothing to do with them.
It was over at last, the interment as they all stood under a soft summer drizzle blown in from the North Sea, the cab ride back to the single room and a sandwich meal eaten with relief. Then the polite talk, the departure and the farewells and half-hearted invitations: ‘Come and see us!’ Katy set off for home.
She took a cab because she had her suitcase to carry, she was weary from the last two days of nursing and broken nights and wanted to be home. As the cab swayed along behind the trotting horse she thought over the past few days. She decided she would take up the invitations and visit her siblings — but not for some months — or years. They needed time to get used to her. But that was something good come of this visit. And there was the brooch. She looked down at it now, pinned to the lapel of her coat. One day she would pass it on to Louise. She had been gone for two years and would be six years old in December. Katy closed her eyes, out of weariness and to try to picture her daughter now. Then she woke with a jerk, looked out of the window — and saw Louise.
It was a mere glimpse. One moment the child was seen in a busy street and the next she was lost in the hurrying crowds. Katy shrieked, ‘Stop!’ She jumped out of the cab before it came to a halt, the startled cabbie on his box staring down at her. She ran back the way they had come, threading her way between the people on the pavement.
Katy heard the cabbie, afraid he was about to lose his fare, shout, ‘Here! You come back here!’ She ran on, but slowing. It had been her, she was sure. Katy stopped, peering about her, eyes frantically scanning the crowd. There! She started forward then stopped because the little girl she saw now was not Louise, though about her size. Now! But again this was another small girl but not her daughter. Her shoulders slumped as she faced reality. She had been half-asleep and had been thinking about Louise, had awakened to see a small girl and thought it was her daughter. It was no more than wishful thinking. Louise was hundreds of miles away across the cold North Sea.
Katy walked slowly back to where the cab stood at rest, the driver down on the road beside it, both cabbie and horse looking back at her. She was close to tears as she apologised, ‘I’m sorry. I thought I saw someone I knew but I was imagining it.’
He grinned sheepishly, ‘You had me worried for a minute.’ And then, concerned as he peered into her face, ‘Are you all right, lass?’
Katy smiled wanly, ‘I will be.’ She went to climb into the cab.
‘Here y’are. Ups-a-daisy!’ He took her arm and almost lifted her into her seat. Then he dug into the pocket of the ancient coat he wore and brought out a flat bottle, unscrewed the cap and offered it to Katy: ‘Have a drop o’ rum. That’ll cheer you up.’
‘No.’ Katy shook her head. ‘But thank you. You’re very kind.’
He took a swig himself, then climbed up onto his box and the cab rolled forward. Katy sat back in the corner of the cab and wept.
Chapter Nineteen
MONKWEARMOUTH. FEBRUARY 1917.
No! I simply can’t manage on this — this pittance! I want another pound a week at least.’ Fleur posed in the middle of the office floor, head thrown back and looking down her nose at Katy where she sat at her desk. When Fleur had stormed into the office, Katy had offered her a chair but that offer had been ignored. Fleur raged on, ‘The price of everything has gone up, if you can get it — because most of the time the shops are sold out! You ask them for something and they look at you and say, “Shortages.” It’s ridiculous!’
Katy could sympathise there to a certain extent. There were shortages in this third year of the war. Nobody knew it better than she because petrol was now restricted. That had reduced the firm’s income even more because some days the lorry stood idle for want of fuel. Katy did not complain because she knew that the petrol brought into
the country came at the cost of men’s lives as the U-boats were sinking the ships. It seemed Fleur did not care.
She fumed, ‘And it’s degrading that I should have to come to you to beg for money that is mine by right, and at this unearthly hour! When I called yesterday that old woman said you were out. Was that true?’
Katy, stung by this reference to Annie, snapped back, ‘Of course it was! Annie wouldn’t lie to you.’
Fleur insisted, scowling, ‘I’m not so sure. She was off-hand to the point of rudeness. God knows why you employ her. It seems to me like a waste of the firm’s money.’
Katy tried to keep her temper. This was Matt’s wife and he would want her treated with respect. ‘Annie earns her keep and more. Most people wanting jobs done come to the office. If they don’t find anyone here they take their custom elsewhere.’
Fleur sniffed, ‘Well, anyway, I want more money, an increased allowance.’
Katy looked out of the window and across the yard. Danny was sitting in the driving seat of the Dennis and its engine was ticking over. He had learned quickly over the past months and now started the Dennis every morning. He had become a useful assistant and Katy had paid him a rise because of that, but now he was talking of joining the Navy. Katy sighed, ‘I have to start work soon.’ She tried to explain as calmly as she could: ‘Matthew authorised the allowance and only he can increase it. Have you asked him?’
Fleur bridled, ‘No, I haven’t. As his wife I’m entitled to the money.’
Katy tried another tack: ‘I know prices have gone up but we’re all in the same boat.’
‘No, we’re not,’ Fleur cut in furiously. ‘You aren’t in my, position! All the money passes through your hands before it gets to the bank so you’ll never be short! I think that needs looking into!’
Katy was stunned by the allegation for a moment. Then she jerked to her feet and pointed at the door, Get out!’
Fleur fell back before her anger but paused in the doorway to hurl a final threat: ‘I’ll get a solicitor onto this and he’ll see I get what is mine. And I’ll write to Matthew this very day to tell him just how you’re mismanaging his business and keeping me short of funds!’ Then she was gone, flouncing across the yard to the motor taxi-cab which waited for her with its engine running.
Katy sat down with a bump. She felt sick. Fleur was greedy and in the wrong because there was no way that a solicitor could obtain more money for her. Her allowance already took up all of Matt’s share of the profits of the firm. The firm still made a profit but only because Katy worked six long days every week. She was not worried by the charges levelled at her, could account for every penny earned and spent by the firm. But if the solicitor took the case to court? Or wrote to Matt? And Fleur was going to do just that. Katy could not let that happen to him.
She changed from her overalls into a dress, pulled on her coat and told Danny, ‘Annie said she was going to queue at the butcher’s for some meat
and then come to
work. Will you wait and help with any jobs she can find you? I’ll be back in a couple of hours.’
She had to wait at the bank because she did not have an appointment but the manager saw her after some twenty minutes. Her business completed, or rather, the easiest part of it, Katy went on to deal with the worst. She had never been to Matt’s house in Ashbrooke and was not looking forward to this visit. It was one of a terrace, with a long garden and steps leading up to the front door. She rang the doorbell and a maid, a girl of seventeen or so in black dress, white apron and cap, opened to her.
Katy asked, ‘May I see Mrs Ballard, please?’
Before the girl could answer, a male voice called, ‘Who is it?’
The maid replied, ‘A lady wants to see madam.’
‘A lady?’ There was a pause and then the owner of the voice appeared at the maid’s elbow. Katy noted that the girl not so much stood aside as shrank from him. The newcomer was tall and slender, with oiled hair parted in the middle and brushed flat, like patent leather. He stroked this as he ran his eyes over Katy. Then he eased the maid aside and opened the door wide. ‘Come right in! Fleur’s at her dressmaker’s but she should be back real soon.’ And to the maid: OK, kid, I’ll see to this.’
Katy recognised the accent as North American because she had once heard such spoken by some seamen whose ship had berthed in Sunderland. She hesitated a moment, but she had to see Fleur, so she passed him to enter the house and he followed her. ‘I’m Harry Dawkins,’ he drawled, ‘originally from New Orleans but lately I’ve played in London and a few other spots.’ They stood in a hallway with a wooden floor polished until it shone. Katy guessed that the maid had done the polishing down on her knees. Harry Dawkins guided her with a hand in the small of her back. ‘In here and sit right down.’ It was a drawing-room crowded with chairs and small tables. A huge mirror on one wall reflected an image of the room. The seat Dawkins indicated was a couch. Katy perched stiffly at one end of it and he sat next to her. ‘So what did you want to see Fleur about?’
Katy answered, ‘A personal matter.’
‘Well, any friend of Fleur is a friend of mine.’ He sat smiling at her and she could feel his eyes probing her body. ‘And nothing’s lost that’s given to a friend, that’s what I say.’ Now his smile was suggestive. Katy stared straight in front of her and she saw a clarinet lying in its open case on an occasional table.
To distract him, she asked, ‘Do you play?’ She nodded at the instrument.
He got up from his seat. ‘Sure.’ He picked up the clarinet and blew a ripple of notes, then bragged, ‘I’m one of the best jazz players around. That’s how I met Fleur; she came to a dance where my outfit was playing. I guess she hadn’t heard anybody play like me before and that goes for a lot of other folks around here.’
He started back towards Katy and that was when the front door was opened. They heard the turning of the key in the lock and then the tapping of high heels on the polished floor. Fleur called, ‘Mary Ann! Take a brush and sweep the front path and steps. You shouldn’t need to be told.’ And then, ‘Hullo°, darling! I’m home!’ Dawkins slid into an armchair several feet from Katy just before Fleur entered the room. Then he stood up in leisurely fashion as she did so.
Fleur was smiling but her face changed as if a curtain was pulled across when she saw Katy. ‘What are you doing here? That girl had no right to let you in.’
Dawkins said nothing but stood close behind Fleur. Katy got to her feet and now she could see in the mirror that he was fondling Fleur’s haunches. She said, ‘This —gentleman — invited me in.’
Dawkins said quickly, ‘She said she was a friend of yours, Fleur.’
Katy denied him: ‘No, I didn’t. You assumed that.’ Her gaze switched to Fleur: ‘I told him I wanted to see you on a personal matter.’
Fleur snapped, ‘Then tell me what you want and get out. I don’t want you here.’ Katy glanced at Dawkins but Fleur waved a hand impatiently. ‘I don’t mind him hearing and I’m not going to be left alone with you. The way you looked at me this morning — murderous!’ She shuddered. ‘So?’
Katy said, forcing out the words, anger and revulsion choking her, ‘I talked to the bank manager and they are going to increase your allowance as you asked.’
‘Aha! Fleur threw back her head triumphantly. ‘So you’ve seen sense and given in! That shows you told me a pack of lies this morning!’ Katy walked past her and made for the door. Fleur shouted after her, ‘Yes, get out! Harry! See her off the premises!’ Then she laughed. Dawkins got to the front door just before Katy reached it. He swung it open but only wide enough for her to sidle through. As she did so he slid an arm around her waist and whispered, ‘I’ll come and visit some time.’ His face was close to her and Katy seized his nose and twisted it. He yelped with pain and she shoved him aside. He fell back holding his nose, tears in his eyes and bleating, ‘You Goddam bitch!’
Katy left them, sickened. As she walked down the path she came on the maid, industriously sweeping. The girl stood aside but she was grinning. ‘I saw that, miss. Good for you. I wish I had your nerve.’
Katy paused and asked, ‘You’re not happy here?’
The girl’s grin slipped away. ‘I’ll be off out of this before long. I’m working my notice now. I have to do that to get my money. The way they carry on! I take up the tea in the mornings and they’re in bed together. But there’s others he doesn’t know about, nor anybody else around here. They’re in and out by the back way. They think I don’t know but I’ve seen these fellers going out of a morning. And what he does to me . . . He’s all hands, but she doesn’t know about that.’ The girl was watching the house all the time and now she resumed her sweeping: ‘She’s looking out o’ the window.’
Katy went on her way. She reflected bitterly that Fleur had won, got all she wanted, but there was nothing Katy could do. How could she tell Matt, thousands of miles away, about his wife’s demands — and about Dawkins and the rest? She could not torment him like that. So she had authorised payment of Fleur’s increased allowance out of the firm’s account, which was the same as out of Katy’s money because Fleur had already had all of Matt’s share. But — Fleur had described Katy as murderous. She was close to that now.
*
The winter passed, summer came and went. Perversely and as if to torture her, where once Katy had seen Fleur scarcely at all, now she saw her every few weeks. As Katy drove the Dennis about her business she caught glimpses of Fleur: sauntering along the High Street, strolling in Mowbray Park in a summer dress and a wide picture hat, going to a dance. Once, returning from a long trip after midnight, Katy even saw her coming out of the Palace Hotel after attending some ball. Katy had stopped the Dennis because of people crossing the road. The door of the Palace opened, sending a shaft of light which cut through the blackout imposed because of air raids and lit a party which spilled out onto the pavement. Katy saw Fleur was one of them and Dawkins was holding her, his arm around her waist. She was in a low-cut silken gown that clung to her as she clung to him and he was peering down into the valley of her breasts. Katy drove on, raging inside. Dawkins was with Fleur more often than not but she was never alone. There was always a man fawning on her, usually a young officer.
It was in October that Katy set out to drive to a mining village in West Durham. She went without Danny because he had gained his heart’s desire and joined the Royal Navy just a week before. Katy and Annie had gone with his mother to see him off at the central station and they all wept together afterwards. So Katy drove alone on that foul morning of fog and driving rain. She had much to occupy her mind as she strained her eyes to make out the road which wound about and up and down. She needed a man or a strong boy to replace Danny and help her lift the heavy loads. It would not be easy to find one because the shipyards took those the Army left behind. The yards were so desperate for labour now that they were employing women. That had been unheard of before the war. The yards had always
been a male preserve. Katy could manage on her own for a short time but it meant turning down heavy work — and most of the work was heavy. If she found a man she would have to pay him a man’s wages and that would not be easy. There were too many days when she could not get the petrol to work. She still grieved over Louise, yearned for her. She had not heard from Matt . . .
The Dennis was climbing around the outside of a hill. Katy knew the road and that the view out over the countryside was lovely despite the pitheads which scarred the landscape. This day the view was hidden by drizzle and fog. It was a road on which there was little traffic as a rule but Katy was on her own side of it anyway. It was the lorry on the other side and coming down the hill which skidded on the turn and slid across the road. Katy twisted the steering wheel frantically to avoid a head-on collision and succeeded, but only at the cost of sliding off the road. She glimpsed the white, frightened face of the driver of the other lorry then the Dennis bucked as it lurched over the rocks marking the roadside and slewed across the turf beyond them. Katy saw the almost sheer drop ahead of her, let go of the wheel and jumped.
She landed on moss and long, tufted grass that was sodden from the rain but at least broke her fall. As she lay there gasping for breath and shaking she watched the Dennis roll over and over, sometimes falling twenty or thirty feet at a time to land with a shuddering crash before rolling on. It finally came to rest some two hundred feet below, was still for a second or two, then burst into flames. Katy stood up, feet sinking into the grass, feeling it soak through her overalls up to her knees. She watched the Dennis burn for a time then turned to look for the other lorry. It was nowhere to be seen. The road was empty.