Kate wasn't sophisticated, Daphne told herself. She knew it was the first real party Kate had been to. Yet Robert had danced with her twice, had looked at though he was thoroughly enjoying himself, and had sought Daphne out afterwards, not for another dance, but to ask about Kate.
'If you want Robert instead of being a doctor, I wish you luck,' Stella said, and yawned. 'Being a doctor, even though the parents don't approve, will probably be easier. I'm off to bed.'
Daphne had followed her upstairs, but been unable to sleep. Why did it matter? She didn't want Robert, and had no right, probably no cause, to be jealous of Kate. She was a mean, selfish beast. But she did wish Robert had danced with her again.
*
Kate was dreaming of fields and woods, when a sudden commotion woke her on Sunday morning. Mum was in the kitchen, and she could hear a man's voice too. Then she heard Dad join in. What on earth was happening?
She slid out of bed, pulled the blanket round her and went into the kitchen. Sam, Maggie's husband, was standing by the door, and Mum was bustling round, stuffing a loaf of bread and some sheets which had been left to air in front of the fire into an old shopping basket.
'Look after yer dad,' she said when she saw Kate. 'Maggie needs me.'
Without pausing to drag off the wrap-round apron she always wore at home, she left, Sam following. Kate turned to her father.
'Dad, what is it?'
He shook his head. 'Maggie's poorly, chuck. The babby she was expecting, it's started, Sam thinks. Damn him! Why can't he keep his hands off 'er? My Maggie's not built fer babbies year after year. This is her seventh!'
Kate couldn't help checking. Maggie and Sam had five children, but perhaps they'd lost one when she was too little to notice, when the grown ups spoke in riddles, making a lot of noise about little ears being pricked.
'Poor Maggie. Does Mum want me to go and help?'
'No, lass. From what Sam said I doubt there's much anyone can do, 'cept patch up me little gal. P'raps it was a good thing yer Mum dain't have more. And I allus wanted a big family.'
'That's because you were an orphan and never had one of your own,' Kate said gently. 'Have you had breakfast?'
'No. We'd only just got up. There's a good lass, mek us both a cuppa. Yer Mum took the new loaf fer Maggie's kids, Sam said Maggie hadn't felt up ter shopping last night. There's enough left fer a slice of toast each, and a few herrings fer dinner, though.'
Kate had filled the kettle and found the heel of yesterday's loaf. 'I'll get dressed, then I'll see to it,' she said, and her father nodded, slumping back in the one armchair.
Kate dressed hurriedly, and was soon holding the toasting fork, wishing it wasn't such a hot day. The storm the previous night had cleared the air, but it was as hot as ever. There was only a smear of dripping to spread on the toast, but neither of them cared, they were too worried about Maggie.
Soon the various church bells began to ring, and Kate wished they were a family which went to church or chapel. It might have been some comfort. But her mother's Irish family had disowned her when she married out of the faith, and Mum had vowed never to set foot in any church again. Dad, brought up in an orphanage where attendance at chapel three times every Sunday had been compulsory, had, once he left the orphanage, only been in church the day he married Mum.
'I'll walk round and see if there's ought I can do,' he said after an hour of restlessness.
'Shall I come too?'
'Yer'll 'ave some 'omework, won't yer? Get on with it while yer've a bit o' peace an' quiet.'
He snatched up his cap and left, and Kate spread out her school books on the table. She didn't have much, and she couldn't concentrate anyway. In between worrying about Maggie, and what would happen to her other children if she were ill, and memories of the previous night, her attention kept straying.
Robert Manning would be coming for her at two o'clock. She hadn't had a chance to tell her father, ask his permission and get him on her side before her mother stepped in and forbade the outing. To be truthful, she'd been so worried about her sister she'd barely thought of him until her father had left.
Mum would have been full of dire warnings, saying that the nobs didn't mix with folk like them. Kate knew and accepted that, but the temptation to ride in a motor car just once more had been too strong to resist. She could have got Dad on her side, if she'd had a chance to explain properly. She'd cook the herrings, hope he'd get back soon with good news of Maggie, and allow her to go.
She found an onion lurking at the bottom of the basket her mother used to shop for vegetables, and chopped it into small pieces, fried them in the pan they kept for when they could afford bacon, then scattered them over the herrings which she filleted swiftly and washed. Covered with water, a dash of salt added, they would simmer in the oven. It would have been tastier if she'd had some butter or a lemon, but herrings were tasty fish. Dad would be pleased, in a good mood, ready to indulge her.
It was well after one o'clock when he came back, looking grim, and slumped down in the armchair.
'Dad? How's Maggie?' Kate asked, fearing the worst from his gloomy expression.
'Maggie's OK, love, but that's only natural. Yer Mum's stayed ter look after the rest of the kids while she gets a bit of shut-eye.'
'The baby?'
'Dead, poor little tyke, but it was too little, it came too early. I'm gonna have some words with that Sam in morning. Maggie's gotta get her strength back, and he's gotta look after her better. Is dinner ready?'
She nodded, and dished up the herrings on two of the plates they had bought cheaply at the market, rejects from the pottery firms in Staffordshire, to the north of the city. It didn't seem right to mention Robert, to beg for permission to ride in a motor car, an unheard-of treat, when Maggie was in such trouble.
Her father ate hungrily and in silence, then moved to his armchair and began to light his pipe. This was a luxury he only allowed himself on Sunday afternoons, after dinner, before he slid down in the chair and went to sleep. Kate knew this was her last opportunity, and was trying to find the words she needed to tell him about Robert when her father suddenly stood up.
'It's no use,' he said gruffly. 'I can't sit here and do nowt. I'm going round there ter see what's what. I can't rest till I know as Maggie's all right. Don't wait up fer us, yer needs yer sleep. It's school tomorrow.'
*
'Where's that Sam?' Alf demanded in a hoarse whisper. 'He should be here with Maggie.'
'Best he aint,' Hattie whispered back. 'She's that mad at him, it would upset her, and she needs ter sleep.'
'Poor lass.' Alf gazed down at his sleeping daughter. Maggie looked almost as white as the sheet, but at least she was sleeping. He felt a surge of fury against Sam, for getting his lass pregnant so often, and then refusing to take responsibility for the children. He'd have a word with him as soon as possible.
'Go and put the kettle on,' Hattie whispered. 'I could do with a cuppa. I brought some tea. Good job, there was none in Maggie's caddy. I think that Mrs Gamage had the last.'
'Fat lot of good she were! Calls herself a midwife! She reeked of booze almost as much as Sam.'
Hattie frowned. 'Maggie should have sent fer me sooner. I'd have sent the bitch about her business. She didn't know what ter do. A dose of pepper would have helped. I've seen many a stubborn babby pushed into the world when its Ma had a fit of sneezing!'
Alf shuddered. The mysteries of childbirth could stay where they belonged, with the women, as far as he was concerned. He didn't want to know. 'Well, I'll mek a pot of char. Shall I bring Maggie a cup?'
'I'll call if she wakes. Bring me one, I don't want ter leave her. Then when you've had your'n come back and sit with her and I'll get a bite of dinner.'
*
Robert sat in his car at the end of the street and smoked the last inch of his cigarette. He'd been a fool to come. He'd always been too impulsive where women were concerned, acting before he thought. It had been stupid in the first place
to suggest the outing the previous night, for he knew she wasn't yet sixteen, a schoolgirl, for heaven's sake. Yet somehow he hadn't been able to prevent the words, the invitation, from being spoken. There was still time to draw back. If he didn't turn up she would probably be disappointed, but she'd soon get over it. She might think he'd reconsidered, or had problems with the car. In fact he might mention that to Stella or Daphne and trust the excuse would be passed on. Then he frowned and dismissed the thought. That was cowardly. And, more importantly, he wanted to see her again.
He tried to analyse his feelings. She was pretty enough, but many girls he knew were far more beautiful. And they were older, sophisticated, well-dressed, knew the sort of people he did and went to the same parties. They flirted enchantingly, and knew the rules. They did not expect him to offer more than he did. And none of them interested him. This girl, this child, would not be at all the same. She could read into this simple offer of a drive into the country far more than he intended. What did he intend? He didn't know. Ought he to draw back before it was too late?
Then he recalled her expression as she'd looked round the car, the way her hands – strong, capable hands roughened with work – had stroked the leather of the upholstery, her silence as she revelled in the new experience of being in a motor car. How could he disappoint her, deny her the only chance she might ever have of riding in one such as his?
He had realised when she had directed him to the house where she lived that she was not wealthy, like the Carstairs. Stella, when asked, had told him last night that she was one of her mother's protégées, a scholarship girl Daphne had made friends with at school. He began to recall small clues that he had not previously noticed. The gown she'd worn had been less fashionable than those of the other girls. She spoke well, but had a little more of the Birmingham accent in her speech than most of the local girls he knew. He'd noticed, when she was sitting in the car, that her legs were covered in some sort of stain rather than the sheer silk stockings every other girl would have worn for the party.
A wave of tenderness swept over him. She'd been gallant, no doubt struggling to cover up the deficiencies in her circumstances. If he let her down she might think he was a snob, rejecting her because he had realised she did not move in his circles. That could not be allowed. His code did not permit him to hurt anyone weaker or less privileged than himself.
Robert threw away the cigarette end and drove on to park outside Kate's home. He got out and knocked loudly on the door, and within seconds Kate opened it. Had she been waiting inside? In which case, he breathed a sigh of relief that he had not given way to his baser instincts. She should have this ride, and afterwards he would refrain from contacting her. That would be the kindest, most sensible way to behave.
'Kate, are you ready? The weather's glorious, we're going to have a wonderful afternoon.'
She smiled at him, rather shyly, and slid through the door, casting an anxious glance up and down the street as he took her arm and helped her into the car. She wore a neat, clean white blouse and navy skirt, and looked more like a schoolgirl than she had at the party. It crossed his mind that it was in fact her school uniform, but that seemed so unlikely he dismissed the thought. If she'd wanted to stress her youth, would she have agreed to come with him?
'What sort of car is it?' she asked. 'You have the hood down today, and it looks different.'
'It's a P-type Midget, with the larger engine,' he explained, 'but I am thinking of buying the Lagonda M45.'
'How – how nice!'
Robert grinned to himself. Not many people shared his enthusiasm for cars and aeroplanes.
Kate was quiet after that, not volunteering any more remarks, and answering his briefly. She seemed to be absorbed in the surroundings, gazing eagerly at the big houses they passed as he drove towards the edge of the city. When they emerged into a country lane, bordered on one side by a dense wood, and on the other by fields of ripening corn, she breathed a huge sigh.
'It's just as I imagined it.'
Robert was startled. 'What do you mean?'
'I've never been out of Birmingham, into the country before,' she replied simply. 'I've only seen it in pictures, paintings in the Art Gallery, and in those shops which sell paintings and prints.'
'Then we must make sure we see as much as possible,' he said, recovering from his astonishment. He had never imagined that anyone, even if they lived in the centre of a big city, could lead so sheltered a life. Then he reminded himself of her circumstances.
'Tell me about your life,' he said, but Kate shook her head.
'It's not very interesting. My parents run a stall in the Bull Ring. I have a much older sister, and she cleans for Mrs Carstairs. That's how I came to get a scholarship to school. Daphne is my friend, but I don't belong to her crowd.'
He glanced down at her. She was honest, not trying to disguise her circumstances, and the tenderness he'd felt before swept over him again. 'What do you mean to do, when you leave school?'
'My father wants me to train to be a teacher, but I'm not sure I want to. It doesn't sound a very exciting sort of life.'
Robert laughed. 'What do you think is exciting?'
Kate grinned suddenly. 'I want to travel, to see the whole world. But I know that's impossible. I'll never be able to earn enough money, though I mean to try.'
'You could perhaps get a job which involved travelling? On a ship, or even on aeroplanes. We can already travel to other cities in them, and soon lots more people will use them.'
Kate's eyes gleamed. 'That would be wonderful! I dream of earning enough to pay for flying lessons. Amy Johnson's my best heroine. But it will be years before I can do that. I'll have to stay here and help Mom and Dad. They've been so good to me, letting me stay on at school for Matric.'
For a wild moment he was tempted to offer her a flight, then some sense of sanity made him hesitate.
'They're building an airfield at Elmdon and who knows, maybe you will one day.'
Kate laughed. 'I doubt it. But this is enough. What's that hill over there?'
Telling himself that for her sake he must not become involved with this delightful girl, still a child, Robert set out to show her as much as was possible of the countryside to the west of the city. They stopped to explore villages, walked beside a river, investigated a wood where, to her delight, they found some late bluebells, and paused to look at the animals in the fields.
'I've never seen real bluebells, they don't last so they don't sell them in the market. I've seen pictures, but this is so much better. And I only see sheep and cattle as they come to be slaughtered,' Kate added. 'It looks so different for them here. They don't look frightened and bewildered.'
Robert was tempted to take her to dine at one of the roadhouses on the outskirts of the city, but he told himself sternly that he must do nothing to make their day seem more significant than a simple drive into the country. It was eight before they returned, and Kate seemed in a dream as he drew up outside her house.
'Thank you, that was wonderful,' she said softly. 'I shall remember it all my life.'
He bit back what he had been going to say, and hastily scrambled out of the car to walk round and open her door.
'I hope your parents have not been worried. We were longer than I expected.'
Kate turned to him, looking contrite. 'Oh, I'm sorry! Do you have to be somewhere else? You must go now. And thank you so very, very much!'
Somehow he forced himself back into the car and drove off, seeing her waving to him until he turned the corner. He breathed a sigh of relief that he had not committed some further folly, but he would not join the party of friends he had half-promised to see that evening. He needed to do some serious thinking.
***
Chapter 2
Kate found it impossible to concentrate on French irregular verbs the following day. Images of Robert, his car, the villages and fields and woods she had seen, kept intruding.
It had been a magical time, and she hugged the me
mories to her, concentrating on recalling the smallest detail. It was most unlikely she would ever again experience such a wonderful afternoon. She amended her thoughts. She would be unlikely to experience it again with Robert. That had been an impulse on his part, a generous, kindly act, but she dared not hope he would want to repeat his invitation. It had, however, shown her a new life, one she might, with luck and determination, aspire to for herself. She was unlikely ever to be able to afford a car like his, but there were, she was sure, smaller and cheaper ones available. If she worked hard, saved her wages, perhaps she could afford the cheapest car.
'Kathleen, I asked you a question. You are daydreaming.'
Mademoiselle sounded surprised, and Kate blushed. Normally she was a model pupil, and, she reminded herself, if she were to find a job and buy herself a car, even perhaps learn to fly, she needed to pass her examinations.
She forced herself to pay attention, banishing Robert to the back of her mind. She must confine those dreams to times outside school.
She needed to tell someone though, and at break she looked for Daphne in the school garden, at the bench beside the tennis court where they usually sat. They would want to talk about the party, too.
Daphne was not there, and Kate wandered round looking for her. At last she found her friend at the far end of the garden, with half a dozen girls they did not usually mix with, telling them what seemed like a long, convoluted story.
Kate hovered at the edge of the group, catching a few words. It was something to do with the party, and Daphne suddenly raised her voice.
'Lionel Summers, would you believe! He's always been such a timid soul, but he was so eager he almost fell over his own feet. Oh, Kate, there you are. Tell us what Lionel was like as a dancing partner.'
Can Dreams Come True? Page 3