'Why did you leave school in the middle of term?'
'I had to earn money, and I'd realised I didn't want to be a teacher after all,' Kate said. 'I've been helping out in the market, that's why my clothes aren't very clean,' she apologised.
'No matter, we supply our girls with a uniform. Let me read that reference. H'm, yes, very good. You seem to be just the sort of girl we are looking for. But I have promised to see another girl this afternoon, so I cannot let you know straight away. If I do give you the job, could you start on Tuesday?'
Kate was ecstatic. 'Yes, please,' she whispered, and wanted to hug the motherly-looking woman.
'I can let you know on Monday and you could come in that afternoon to be fitted with a uniform.'
Kate was walking on air when she left the shop. It wasn't settled, but she felt confident. It would solve some of her problems, and she could begin to look forward to finding a room of her own and escaping from a home that had become abhorrent to her.
On Sunday, she would go and see Daphne, and perhaps be able to thank Mrs Carstairs.
Walking up the drive of the Carstairs' house Kate could hear laughter coming from the direction of the tennis court. She breathed a sigh of relief. That solved one dilemma. She'd been wondering whether she ought she to go to the back door. She had been shy of ringing the front door bell, uncertain of how she ought to behave now she was no longer one of Daphne's schoolfriends. She could go round to the court and find Daphne without having to face the parlourmaid who answered the front door.
Stella and some of her friends were playing. Daphne and her mother and a few more people were sitting at the side watching, holding glasses of lemonade. Daphne saw her first, hovering at the edge of the grass, and jumped up with a cry of welcome.
'Kate! Lovely to see you! Have you found a job yet?'
Kate smiled at her, then glanced across at Mrs Carstairs, and her heart gave a lurch of dismay. The older woman looked even more forbidding than Miss MacDonald at her most severe.
'Kate, I must speak with you,' she said, rising to her feet. 'No, you stay here with your guests, Daphne dear. Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. Come.'
Kate glanced at Daphne, who was looking as puzzled and shocked as she felt at the tone Mrs Carstairs had used. She turned and followed Mrs Carstairs into the house, into the small parlour where she'd spent time with Daphne and her friends during the party.
'How did you acquire headed notepaper of mine?' she demanded.
Kate looked at her in astonishment. 'I don't know what you mean,' she protested. 'The only notepaper of yours I have is the reference you wrote for me. I wanted to thank you for that, I think it has helped me to get a really wonderful job.'
'I'm sorry, Kate, to disillusion you. The proprietor of that shop telephoned me on Friday and I had to tell her that I have never written a reference for you. In the circumstances, she will naturally not be offering you a job.'
'I – I didn't know!'
'So you tell lies too? You and your family seem to be causing a great deal of trouble just lately. First your father assaults our friend Robert, who was only being kind to you. He is fortunate not to be put in prison, but Robert did not wish for the notoriety that would have resulted. Then your behaviour results in my school losing its Headmistress, and creating a good deal of scandal into the bargain. Oh, I don't excuse her deception, and she was, or had been, immoral in the past, but she was a good teacher, and now several parents have indicated they intend to remove their daughters. Once a school's reputation is lost, it is very difficult to restore its good name, so we will almost certainly have to close it. A great pity, after so many years, but there may be no option. Now you forge a reference from me, including falsifying my signature on it.'
Kate was reeling. How had this happened? It was none of her fault. How had the reference been written? Then she realised that Daphne must have done it. She opened her mouth, then shut it again. She could not betray her friend, who had only been trying to help her.
Mrs Carstairs was continuing. 'I shudder when I think I have welcomed you to my house, allowed you to associate with my daughters and guests, and all the time you are scheming how to use my kindness. From now on you will not attempt to see Daphne again. Do you understand?'
Kate nodded, incapable of speech. Mrs Carstairs reached behind her and handed her an envelope. 'I'm sorry, but I cannot have anything to do with any member of your family ever again. Please give Maggie this, it is a month's pay in lieu of notice.'
'You're sacking Maggie?' Kate at last managed to speak. 'But she's had nothing to do with any of this! That's unfair!'
'I will judge what is fair or not. I am being generous, very, but I do not wish to be reminded of your ingratitude whenever I see your sister. She is too like you in looks,' she added quietly.
Kate stared at her for a moment, and then, before her tears blinded her, she turned and left the room. What else could go wrong?
*
Still numb from all the shocks, Kate went to the market on Monday morning to ask around for the usual odd jobs. She had been unable to sleep, unable to bring herself to take the money to Maggie and confess the whole miserable story to her, and had no energy for looking for other jobs. She felt sure anyway that her reputation would be known and no Birmingham shopkeeper would employ her.
If only she had enough money to pay her fare to a distant town! She wanted to escape from it all, to leave all her problems behind. Where no one knew her she might find a job, any job. She could sleep under a hedge or in a barn or haystack until she found a room. That was it. She'd keep the next few coppers she earned and take a tram out to the Lickey Hills, in the countryside, and start walking. Maybe she could find work on a farm, or in a village like the ones she'd seen with Robert.
She was offered work helping to carry baskets of vegetables from the cart they'd arrived in, which was parked in Moat Lane, to a stall in the Bull Ring near where her father had set his up. It was heavy work, but she welcomed it. Hard labour helped her not to think, and thinking was driving her mad.
'Me brother's not well, still nursin' a sick 'ead from too much beer,' the owner of the stall, a big blowsy woman, said. She didn't sound as though she had much sympathy with him. She had already set up the trestles and the boxes at the back, ready to display her goods. As Kate trudged back and forth between cart and trestles, urged to get a move on and make haste every time she saw her temporary employer, she was vaguely aware of the noise around her. It was always noisy in the early mornings in the outside markets. The Market Hall, in contrast, was relatively quiet despite the hundreds of stalls it held, and its vast, echoing roof.
To distract her thoughts from what she was going to do, Kate tried to recall what she had heard about the markets. They had been held on this spot for hundreds of years, near the site of the original manor house. There had been fairs, and open markets long before the Market Halls had been built. They'd had to dig really deep foundations for them where the moat had been. And they'd had cattle markets in the Bull Ring, which now had stalls, and looking on at it was the huge statue of Lord Nelson. It had been one of the first, she'd heard, of that great sailor.
What was the sea like? Would she ever see it? Would she ever escape? It was no good, she couldn't keep her thoughts off her own problems. She'd go and see Maggie as soon as this job was finished, confess, and ask her what to do.
She was carrying the last of the baskets, when she heard someone scream. This was not especially odd, there was always a lot of shouting, but something about the quality of the scream made her turn round.
'Catch 'im!'
'Get out the way!'
There were more shouts, lots of screams, and the neighing of a terrified horse. Kate gasped as she saw one of the huge carthorses, whites of eyes showing, foam flecking from its mouth, rear up, then its enormous hooves come crashing down on the cobbles.
One of the motor vans was nearby, and there was smoke coming from under the bonnet. At that moment a spurt
of flame came out and the man who had been struggling to open the bonnet fell back, to be dragged away by others. The horse, panic-stricken, reared again, and Kate saw a young lad clinging to the harness.
Then it all seemed to happen at once. The van burst into flames, and the horse, silhouetted against them, tossed his great head so that the lad fell to the side. The horse, terrified, was struggling to bolt, but the cart it was pulling refused to move. This frightened the poor beast still further. The area all round the markets was always jammed tight with carts and motor vans at this time of morning, as the traders brought in their wares, and the wheels of the cart were impeded by other vehicles.
The great horse, its strength increased by fear, gave a great heave and the cart, smashed to pieces, and ripping parts off the others, was dragged free. Several planks dragged on the ground, a metal running board clanked against the cobbles, and crates of bottles, dislodged from a van, crashed down and added to the horrendous noise, maddening the terrified beast even more. He plunged in an attempt to rid himself of the constraints, the wreckage of the cart was dragged free, and he suddenly began to lumber forwards. All around people were screaming in fright, or yelling commands, and the van, burning fiercely, black smoke pouring from it, added to the confusion.
Getting up speed, tossing his head, the horse headed away from the fire, the ruined cart behind him swinging round, colliding with others, upsetting more of their contents, and banging against the horse's legs. Someone, Kate couldn't see who, sprang forward and grasped the reins in a valiant attempt to stop it just as a beer barrel rolled into the horse's path. Wild-eyed with terror, he swung his head round to rid himself of this restraint as he reared away from the barrel. For a few seconds more the man clung on, the huge horse prancing on its hind legs, but then, as his feet crashed down Kate, horrorstruck, saw the man fall to the ground beneath them.
A concerted moan went up from the watching crowd. The wheels of the cart rocked and the horse, fettered now only with the remnants of the cart, from which the loose planks had fallen, gathered up speed and galloped down the hill for the more open spaces of Digbeth.
An odd silence had fallen. Most of the crowd had drawn back, only a few venturing near the fallen man. Kate swallowed hard. He could not have survived, the horse had trampled on him, and the remains of the cart had probably passed over him. She wanted to move, look away. She was still clutching a basket full of cabbages. and if she did not get them to the stall quickly the owner, already flustered and short-tempered, would be even angrier.
Something held her, and most of the crowd, immobile. Then a man in a dark suit pushed his way forward.
'Let me through,' Kate heard, in the odd silence. 'I'm a doctor.'
He knelt beside the fallen man, hidden from Kate by the people in front, and then another sound, a sharp and piercing wailing, broke the silence.
'Alf! Alf! Oh, yer damned fool! What did you 'ave ter get yerself killed fer?'
Kate recognised her mother's voice. No, not her mother, she reminded herself. She felt the basket of cabbages slipping from her grasp, and suddenly crumpled up, falling to the ground.
***
Chapter 4
Kate's collapse lasted only for seconds. As one of the porters bent down to help her she was struggling to her feet.
'My Dad! I must get to him!'
There was an indrawn breath close to her ear, and hands on her shoulders to restrain her, but Kate struggled free.
'Nay, lass, don't go – '
She was squeezing and pushing her way through the press of people, towards the centre of the commotion. The crowd's unnatural silence had been replaced by subdued whispers, the occasional suppressed sob, and heavy breathing as people strained to see the horrors in front of them. A ring of spectators had formed, the runaway horse forgotten as they stared at the tableau. Kate burst through, sliding underneath the guard of a man who was stretching out both arms in an attempt to keep people at a distance.
Her father lay on the ground, blood covering his face so that she only knew it was him from the old coat he always wore. A man, the one who said he was a doctor, knelt on the far side, and Hattie, sitting on one of the market crates, her apron over her face, rocked and wept with abandon, heedless of the small group of women about her who were trying to calm and comfort her.
'Mum!' Kate stooped in front of her and tried to clasp her hand, but most of her attention was on the doctor. 'Can't you do anything?' she whispered.
He glanced at her and rose to his feet. 'I'm sorry. He's gone. Is there anyone in authority – ah, Constable! Can you take charge?'
Kate heard no more, for Hattie's sobs had become even wilder.
'It were your fault!' she wailed, pushing Kate's consoling hands away and leaping to her feet.
The movement upset Kate's balance and she fell awkwardly onto her arm. Before she could rise to her feet Hattie was standing over her, bending down to flail at her with fists. Kate rolled aside and put up her arms, trying to protect her head from the blows.
'Mum! Stop it!' she whispered, too shaken by Hattie's venom to do more.
'It were your fault! He worked his guts out fer you! A pesky little bastard that's no use to any of us!'
'For God's sake, stop the woman! She's crazy with grief.'
It was the doctor, and the women around Hattie had recovered enough from their astonishment at her behaviour to catch her arms and pull her backwards.
'Hush, now, chuck! Hush.'
'Come an' have a nice cuppa. That'll steady yer nerves, Hattie.'
The fists stopped beating at Kate, and she cautiously raised her head, but Hattie, though held back from her, was kicking viciously, and one of her kicks landed on Kate's cheek.
She winced, and curled up into a protective ball again. Dimly she heard another voice ordering Hattie to calm down, and the crowd to move along there. Hattie's voice, still spitting accusations, receded, and Kate was lifted to her feet.
'It's all right, love, she's bin took away.'
'What a vicious besom!'
'Mad wi' grief, I suppose. It were the hubby, weren't it? No wonder.'
Dazed, Kate looked towards her father. Alf's body had been covered, and a couple of men were putting a trestle plank beside him, directed by a uniformed policeman.
'Please, let me see him!' Kate freed herself from the solicitous hands and appealed to the constable. 'Please, it's my Dad!'
He glanced at her, and nodded. She knelt beside Alf, and lifted the cloth which covered his face. Covered in blood, pale beneath, he nevertheless looked the same as normal.
'Oh, Dad! Dad, I love you! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!'
She bent to kiss his brow, already slightly cold, and allowed them to raise her to her feet and cover up his face.
'Where did – do you live, Miss?' It was the policeman.
Kate told him. 'Will you take him there?'
'No, he'd best go to mortuary. I'll come and see you and yer Mom later on. Don't worry, she'll calm down. I'll get the doctor ter give her summat.'
The doctor stood behind him. 'Of course. And you, Miss? Would you like something to compose you?'
Kate shook her head. 'No, thank you. I'll be all right.'
'Have you a friend to see you home?'
Kate was shaking her head, saying she'd manage on her own when Walter pushed his way through the crowd.
'I'll see to it, sir. I've known Kate ten years. Me and Barny can help her, and we'll stay till we know Mrs Martins has calmed down.'
'Good lad.'
'Where – where is Mum?'
'The women have taken her into a café, but she's still very distraught.'
Kate could hear the screams still, and she shuddered. Never before had Hattie turned on her so violently, though slaps had been plentiful. Even at the time when she'd urged Alf to beat her she hadn't been so vicious.
'I'll go and see what can be done to help,' the doctor said. 'Get you home. Have you brothers or sisters?'
'A sist
er,' Kate said. 'I'll have to tell her.'
'One of us'll go,' Walter said quickly. 'Barny and me knows where Maggie lives. Come on, Kate, let's get you home.'
*
'Where are we going today?' Charles asked as he climbed into the forward seat of the Tiger Moth.
Robert had almost completed the external checks. He finished fastening his helmet and started to pull on his big leather gauntlets. During the past week he had been determined to forget Kate. There was nothing he could do, short of taking her away from her home and providing for her himself, but that was impossible. She was too young, any such action would ruin her for certain, and probably him too, besides deeply hurting his rather straitlaced parents.
Respectable young Birmingham businessmen did not entangle themselves with girls who lived in near-slums, as Kate did. Not honourably, at least. There had been enough fuss when he'd met the divorced Mrs Templeton at Cambridge, who was five years older than his eighteen years. His father had almost had a seizure when he'd taken her home that Christmas, and he had been forced to endure several lectures on what was due to his name and position, and how he was expected to make a marriage that was suitable, one that would help him when the time came for him to take over the family business. Not that Kate was at all like Moira Templeton, whose tantrums had soon made him weary of her. Yet despite all his intentions he could not drive the image of her face from his mind.
'Can you hear me, old chap?' Charles asked, and Robert dragged his attention back to the present.
'I want to take another look at Walsall Aero Club. It might be worth joining.'
'Another club? But you'll be in Paris, won't you?'
'Only some of the time. I'll still need at least one club.'
'What's wrong with Castle Bromwich? Too many eager women you want to get away from?'
'Nothing's wrong with it, but it's an RAF aerodrome, and there's no room for expansion. There are railways both sides, the canal, and a main road.'
'Why not wait for the one they're building at Elmdon? There'll be a private club there too.'
Can Dreams Come True? Page 8