'If they ever let me. They want me to be finished in Paris and find a wealthy husband. Maybe I will, I don't think I'm clever enough to become a doctor.'
'You can do it if you want. Families have to take care of each other, even when they're as odd as moaning Mac!'
By now they were at the gateway to the small private school, and Kate jammed the hated straw boater on her head. Pamela was waiting for her in the cloakroom.
'Miss MacDonald wants to see you immediately after Prayers,' she hissed at Kate. 'Don't keep her waiting or you'll be in even worse trouble.'
Kate's mind wandered during Prayers. She'd prayed, hard, last winter, that her father would get better, but she was afraid that his illness would return with the cold weather. Then what would they do? It was Dad who insisted she remained at school, when she could have left a year and a half ago, when she reached fourteen. He had insisted on allowing her to go to a respectable school in the first place, one patronised by Birmingham tradesmen and wealthy people who lived in Edgbaston. Mum would never have agreed, even with Maggie urging it.
Kate's thoughts drifted to her older sister. Maggie was twenty years older, married with several children. It had been because she worked for Mrs Carstairs, who was a Governor of the school, that Kate had been urged to take the scholarship examination. She'd be eternally grateful to her big sister, even if she had to leave soon.
It had been hard at first. Some of the girls, supercilious and hateful, had mocked at her speech and her clothes. She'd gone to school in a blouse and tunic inexpertly made by her mother, instead of having them bought from the official supplier. Only with her blazer had Mum given way, realising that it was beyond her limited skills to make one. Kate had felt ashamed, out of place, and then guilty at being ashamed.
It had improved. She'd made a few friends, Daphne Carstairs in particular. Daphne was a year older, almost seventeen. She'd missed a year of school when she was little, so was the oldest in the form. She and her older sister Stella were both brilliant at tennis, and popular with the younger girls, and this had made a great difference. Kate was accepted, even though few girls other than Daphne ever invited her home with them.
Daphne never seemed to mind that she didn't invite her back to their lodgings. She knew how it was, that both her parents had to work. Kate knew she was always welcome at the Carstairs' house, and she relished the opportunity of living, for a few hours, a life of ease and luxury.
She was going to a party there tomorrow, Saturday. Stella, by now a young lady of nineteen, who had spent last year enjoying the London Season, was celebrating her engagement to the son of a rich, titled man who owned, Daphne reported in awe, thousands of acres in the Scottish Highlands. Daphne had insisted she wanted a few friends of her own to keep her company at Stella's party, and Kate had been her first choice.
While she waited outside Miss MacDonald's room, Kate puzzled about what she could wear. She had one white dress for best, but it made her look about twelve. She needed something more sophisticated. Mum would object, but Kate decided she would wear the rose-pink silk which Maggie had given her. One of the other ladies Maggie cleaned for had given it to her sister, but Maggie said it was too small for her, and in any case, when would she ever have an opportunity to wear such fine clothes. Kate knew it suited her pale complexion and black hair. It was daring with a low-cut neckline, the skirt longer at the back than the front, but it floated beautifully when she twirled around. There would be dancing at the party, and Kate was imagining herself whirling round in the big drawing room, held in the arms of a handsome man, when the door was flung open and she was confronted by Miss MacDonald.
The Headmistress was tall and gaunt, with a permanent frown on her thin face. She always wore long black skirts and navy blouses, her hair rolled into a tight bun, defying fashion.
'Why are you smiling, Kathleen? You have nothing to smile about, believe me. Enter.'
Kate did so, trying to look contrite. 'I smiled because my father is feeling so much better in this warm weather,' she said swiftly. Any admission that she had been thinking of clothes, when she was here because of not wearing her hat, would bring forth a tirade against vanity.
She stood with her head bowed, enduring a lecture on due gratitude for the benefits she was receiving with her free education at such an exclusive school. She promised to behave properly, as a young lady would, even if she could not aspire to that description.
'I shall not permit you another chance,' Miss MacDonald concluded. 'You have a great deal to be grateful for, to Mrs Carstairs in particular, and I send her a report on your progress every term. You would not wish to disappoint your benefactress, I hope.'
'Of course not. I am most grateful to her,' Kate murmured.
'Then show it by your behaviour. Dismiss.'
*
Her father beamed at Kate. 'That dress really suits yer, lass. Have a good time, now, and give young Stella our best wishes.'
Alf had never met any of the Carstairs, but he took a keen interest in their doings, the furnishings of their house, the food on the table, and the servants who waited on them. Hattie scoffed at him, mocking his belief that one day Kate would inhabit such a house, but Kate always tried to recall the slightest detail to tell after any visit.
Kate smiled at him, and finished rubbing her legs with gravy browning, a trick Maggie had told her about to disguise lack of stockings.
'I won't be late,' she promised. It would not do to disturb them after they'd gone to bed, especially on Saturday, which was always the busiest day of the week.
'Mind you aint,' Mum said. 'Gallivanting with the nobs! What next?'
Kate kissed her parents, and set off to walk to Edgbaston. Farquar Road was further than the walk to school. By the time Kate turned into the driveway of the large house, set in an extensive garden, the party was well under way, and several motor cars were parked in the drive and on the wide road outside. She hesitated, feeling shy suddenly. This would be her first grown-up party, and she didn't know whether to go through the open front door, creep round to the back, or through the conservatory at the side of the house, where she could see lights but no people.
Voices behind her made her swing round.
'Hello, what have we here? A nymph, it seems. Are you one of Stella's friends?'
Kate looked at the two young men who were dressed in impeccable evening clothes, and gulped. She hadn't met anyone like them before. The boys Daphne and Stella played tennis with on the court behind the house were callow schoolboys. Only their elder brother, Norman, was grown up, and he was rarely at home since he worked in London. Kate had only met him once, for a few brief minutes.
'Er, no, I'm Daphne's friend,' she said diffidently.
'Well, let's go in,' the taller one said, and with a smile held out his arm to Kate.
She stole a glance up at him as they walked on to the house. He was tall and slim, but his shoulders were broad, and he had a firm mouth and determined chin. He looked trustworthy, and she relaxed. She'd been apprehensive about meeting Stella's London friends. She had feared they might be very sophisticated, possibly aloof, even contemptuous of provincial Birmingham people. But these two seemed friendly.
Inside the house Kate swiftly dropped her hand from his arm as Stella descended on them. 'Bob! Charles! I thought you were going to disappoint me and not come. Hello Kate, Daphne's somewhere around.'
'We were delayed, had a puncture coming home from the rally,' Kate's escort said, kissing Stella on the cheek. 'Where's Gordon? He's a lucky dog, stealing you from under our noses.'
Stella laughed, linked arms with them both, and walked away. Kate went to find Daphne, who was in the small back parlour, laughing and joking with some of their schoolfriends and a few boys from King Edward's School, the sons of Daphne's neighbours.
They could hear the music, and Kate found her feet tapping to the rhythm. One of the boys, Lionel Summers, rather shyly asked her to dance, and trying to ignore the teasing comments from the r
est he led her through to the big drawing room.
The carpet had been rolled up, a trio of musicians sat in the bay window, and to Kate it seemed as though dozens of people were whirling about the room. Lionel was a good dancer, and Kate was able to follow his lead easily. They'd been taught to dance at school, but the girls had partnered one another. Kate had usually danced with Daphne, and as her friend was the taller, she had taken the man's role. Looking round her, Kate almost laughed to see Daphne, partnered by one of the other boys, trying to show him the proper steps.
When the music stopped they stood at the side and watched as Stella, and the man Kate guessed was her fiancé, demonstrated a tango.
'Can you do this?' Lionel asked, and Kate shook her head.
'They wouldn't approve at school,' she said, and laughed. It did look rather a wicked dance, Stella pressed close to her partner's body, and the way she was twisting her head aside, yet giving him flirtatious looks.
The music changed to a more sedate waltz. Stella laughingly collapsed onto one of the chairs, and Lionel asked Kate to dance again.
As the dance finished Kate found the man she'd met in the drive beside her.
'My turn now, old chap. You can't keep her to yourself all evening.'
Lionel blushed, stammered, and stepped back. He nodded to them, and swung on his heel, walking swiftly out of the room.
'We were never introduced. I'm Robert Manning, known to my friends as Crazy Bob.'
'I'm Kate Martins.'
He did not, as she'd assumed, come from London. His father was a manufacturer of instruments for motor cars and aeroplanes, and they lived a couple of roads away, near the Park. He'd been at Cambridge with Gordon MacLean.
'And I introduced him to Stella last year, at Henley Regatta,' he explained. 'You're at school with Daphne?'
'Yes,' Kate said briefly, not wanting to admit she was a scholarship girl.
'Sweet sixteen and never been kissed?'
Kate blushed. She wasn't used to parrying these sorts of remarks. There was plenty of teasing between the girls and boys who played tennis together, but nothing like this.
'I'm not sixteen yet,' she said hurriedly, and he grinned down at her, his eyebrows raised.
'You surprise me. I'd have thought you were seventeen, at least.'
He had a most attractive grin. His hair, a dark brown with a hint of red, flopped over his eyes. It was not slicked back with brilliantine as most men wore their hair, and Kate thought the unruly look was far more interesting. He had bright blue eyes, and the creases at the corners were pale in a sunburnt face, as though he spent a lot of time narrowing them against the sun.
She was relieved when he began to talk about the rally he and his friend Charles had been on that day. Kate had never ridden in a private motor car, and only occasionally on the trams and omnibuses which served Birmingham, and she listened, enthralled, to his account of the route they had taken out into the Worcestershire countryside beyond Hagley, along metalled roads and rutted cart tracks, and the final hill climb competition on the Lickey Hills.
'Perhaps you'll come with me one day,' he said. 'I'm going again next Saturday.'
Kate swiftly shook her head. 'I couldn't,' she said, regretful. It simply would not do, for her to mix with Stella's friends in this way. Coming here to Daphne's house was acceptable, but neither her parents nor Mrs Carstairs would agree to her going off alone in a motor car with a young man.
He laughed. 'You'd like to, though. Daphne could come too, if you're afraid to be alone with me.'
Kate didn't know what to say. This indication that he recognised her fears and wanted to reassure her was welcome, but it made no difference. She didn't belong in Daphne's class of society. And besides, she had no motoring clothes. The ladies she'd seen driving in motor cars were always suitably dressed, but all she had were her school skirt and blouse, a few old dresses, a white best dress and the one she now wore.
She giggled at the thought of wearing any of these, but could not explain the joke to Robert Manning.
At that moment Stella appeared and claimed his attention, saying playfully that Kate must not take up all his time, as she wanted to introduce him to her dearest friend Marjorie.
'Then I'll drive you home after the party,' he said quietly, before following Stella across the room.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Kate danced with several more men, but paid them little attention. Her mind was preoccupied by the puzzle of how she might evade Robert's offer. She instinctively didn't want to be alone with him, but more importantly she would die of embarrassment if he were to see the shabby street where she lived.
She chided herself for being a snob, but it didn't alter her feelings. The address sounded respectable enough, the houses were large and had once been occupied by merchants and manufacturers, but as most of these had moved to more salubrious houses in the suburbs, the street had declined. Many of the houses were, like the one where she lived, lodging houses, shabby and uncared for.
Kate decided that she must leave the party early, so evading Robert. When she judged the end was near, and a few people, mostly the older ones, began to leave, she slipped out of the side door and ran down the path which was used by the tradespeople making deliveries, screened from the main drive by a thick hedge. It had begun to rain heavily, and the wet leaves brushed against her bare arms, making her shiver.
Out in the road she looked about her, but no one was visible, so she ran as fast as she could for the nearest corner. She'd go back along the Harborne Road, avoiding the Park in case he saw her on his way home. Once in the next road she slowed her pace. She should be safe now.
She had reached the Harborne Road when a motor car drew up beside her.
'There's no need to run away from me,' Robert said as he opened the driver's door and stepped out. 'Don't you have a wrap or a coat? You must be cold, and you're certainly wet.'
She was, but as she had no coat apart from her school blazer she had decided it would be better to be cold than look ridiculous.
'I'm not cold,' she said.
'I don't believe you. Get in, and don't be silly.'
He sounded just like Miss MacDonald, Kate thought resentfully, but she responded to the note of authority and when he walked round to her side of the car and opened the passenger door she allowed herself to be helped into it. Robert reached into the space behind the seats for a rug and wrapped it round her.
'That should help,' he said briefly.
Kate looked at the car, fascinated by the array of instruments and the various levers. Did aeroplanes have the same confusing amount? Would she ever discover what they were for? Then she told herself not to be stupid. Despite her dreams of learning to fly, what real chance had she or any of her family of ever riding in such a vehicle, which must have cost hundreds of pounds, let alone an aeroplane? She gave a deep sigh. It was so comfortable, the leather seats smelling of newness, and the fascia polished and gleaming, the array of instruments shining as the light from the street lamps reflected in their chrome and glass.
It took a remarkably short time, and Kate was so bemused as she directed him through the maze of small streets, that when he stopped outside her house and handed her out she found herself bewitched into agreeing she would go with him for a drive on the following afternoon.
Her parents, to Kate's relief, were in bed and asleep. She didn't want to talk about the party yet. She wanted to hug to herself the memory of Robert's arms round hers as they danced, the delicious comfort of the motor car, and all the other memories of the party.
Hastily she rid herself of the dress, and climbed into bed, but in the silent darkness doubts began to trouble her. What had she done? She scolded herself heartily for having been so stupid as to let him see where she lived. He would come for her, he would realise how they lived, and he would never want to see her again.
And she admitted to herself that she did want to see him again. Surely one such treat was allowable? She knew their acq
uaintance could not last, they were too far apart, and she was much too young to form any serious friendship with a man several years older. But that brief ride in his motor car had fired her with ambitions to ride in one again, in daylight, perhaps, even to visit the countryside she had heard so much about, but had never seen except in pictures.
*
Daphne wanted to go to bed, but Stella flopped onto a sofa when the last of the guests had gone and clearly wanted to talk. It would look odd if she left her.
'Oh, some of those people were so utterly boring! Why on earth did you invite all those children?'
Daphne wondered that too, but she wasn't going to confess it to Stella, not when she'd made such a fuss about wanting her own friends there. 'You had plenty of your London friends,' she said.
'I know, but some of them seemed to think they had to make an effort to entertain your friends. I hope they weren't frightfully bored.'
'Robert didn't seem bored,' Daphne said, and could have bitten her tongue out when Stella laughed.
'Oh, darling, do you have a crush on him? I warn you, it'll be no good. All of my friends have tried to catch him. I did myself, once, but he's not interested. He prefers the lower classes.'
'What do you mean?' Daphne demanded. This only fuelled her fears that Robert was too taken with Kate.
'Hadn't you heard? I suppose you were too young. I'm told he had an unfortunate entanglement with some dreadful woman years older than him when he was at Cambridge, and since then he's only been interested in cars and aeroplanes. At least, that's all we hear about. No doubt he has some quite unsuitable woman tucked away somewhere.'
'I'm not interested in men,' she declared. 'I want to be a doctor.'
Daphne had not enjoyed the party as much as she'd hoped. Perhaps it had been a mistake to invite Kate, and the younger boys they played tennis with. Then she felt guilty. She knew she was jealous, for the first time in her life, of Kate. In the past she had looked after Kate, felt protective of her, as she would have done of a younger sister.
She'd known Robert, one of Norman's friends, for years, but had seen less of him recently since Norman had been away from home and Robert absorbed in his family business. Seeing him suddenly that evening, looking so unbelievably handsome in evening dress, had done something to her breathing. She'd been as jittery as an unbroken colt until he had asked her to dance, and then she'd been unable to utter more than inanities. It was no wonder he had left her and moved on to dance with more sophisticated girls.
Can Dreams Come True? Page 2