Can Dreams Come True?

by Oliver, Marina

  Daphne did as she was bid, but her thoughts were chaotic. Her mother thought Kate had forged the reference? And because of that Maggie had lost her job? She dropped her head into her hands and tried to think clearly. She would have to confess. It wasn't fair to let Kate take the blame. She knew nothing about Daphne's part in this, was totally innocent, Maggie even more so.

  It wasn't like her mother to act with such anger. She'd liked Kate, helped her, and she had kept Maggie's job open for her despite all the children, and the times Maggie had been forced to take off when she was giving birth, or one of the children had been too ill to leave with a neighbour.

  Taking the finished list Daphne sought out her mother, who was busy conferring with florists.

  'Thank you, dear,' she murmured, taking the list and turning immediately to a discussion of colour schemes.

  'Mother, I need to tell you something,' Daphne said, determined to get her confession over with.

  'Not now, dear, I'm too busy.'

  It was lunchtime the following day before Daphne could catch her mother alone. She had baulked at the idea of making her confession during dinner, with the rest of the family present, and Mrs Carstairs had risen early and left the house before Daphne came down to breakfast.

  'Something to do with the wretched school,' Stella said.

  At last, however, Mrs Carstairs came home and went up to her bedroom. Daphne followed and tapped at the door.

  'Mother, I have to tell you now!' she protested when Mrs Carstairs, rubbing her eyes with weariness, asked if it could not wait.

  The confession was painful, but Daphne bore the reproaches stoically.

  'I felt so sorry for Kate,' she said, 'and I thought you would be sorry for her too when you had got over the shock. I didn't know you suspected her, I didn't even know anyone had told you about it.'

  'I'm at fault too,' Mrs Carstairs said, and sighed. 'I didn't ask, I accused her and wouldn't believe she could be innocent. And now there's Maggie too, unfairly dismissed. Daphne, promise me you'll never do something like this again? Look what trouble we've caused between us!'

  'I want to see Kate, make sure she's all right.'

  'Have you written to her?'

  'No. Kate said her mother opened or threw away any letters that came for her. She almost threw away one inviting Kate for an interview, but Kate was there and knew what it was, and managed to stop her.'

  'We'll put it right. Daphne, it's the wedding in two days, and I have an applicant for the Head's position to interview tomorrow. I can't do anything until afterwards, but then I will go and see Maggie and apologise. Write a letter to Kate and explain, and I'm sure Maggie will give it to her, and then you can meet again. Ask her here, before you go to Paris, and I can apologise to her too.'

  *

  Soon Kate's efforts on the stall were beginning to show a small profit, and she cautiously began to hope they might be able to carve a living for themselves. She'd far rather have tried to get a different job, with a regular wage, but if she did what would happen to Hattie? Despite the way she'd treated her, Kate found she didn't have the heart to desert Hattie, and without her help she would not be able to run the stall on her own or make any sort of living. Any wage Kate could earn would not be enough to pay the rent and feed them. The stall was a better prospect. Hattie was morose, resentful that her own authority had been challenged, but unable to change the situation. Instead she grumbled constantly, and for fear she might offend the customers by her rudeness, Kate took to sending her off to talk to her cronies on other stalls, preferring to run it alone once they had set it up for the day.

  Hattie was never reluctant to go, but she complained bitterly about Kate's managing ways, and Kate endured many sidelong looks and a few direct disparaging comments from other market people. She shrugged them off, they didn't matter. She was making progress. Until, that was, the day came when the man from whom Alf had bought the cart came and complained that the payments on it were not being made.

  'But, Mr Bridges, you said you could wait until we got sorted.'

  'Yes, I know, lass, and I'm right sorry, but I've had losses meself, see, an' I need the lolly straight off.'

  'But I haven't got it! Not yet. I will have enough soon, I'm sure. Can't you wait another week or two?'

  He shook his head. 'No, or I'll be in a right old mess meself. Anyroad, from what I sees, you and yer Ma can't manage, so what good's the cart to you? Tell yer what, I'll tek it back, and pay yer what yer Dad's paid already, less a percentage fer commission, o' course, and the use it's had.'

  Kate was certain she was being swindled out of at least some of the value, but, as he pointed out, if she refused he could take possession of the cart and she could never prove he wasn't entitled to it.

  Hattie, when she found out, was predictably furious. 'That cart were yer Dad's pride and joy,' she declared. 'He worked his guts out fer that, and yer lets that pesky Tom Bridges cheat yer!'

  'You've changed your tune,' Kate snapped. 'You hated the cart, never stopped blaming Dad for buying it! Well, you won't have to push it any more! I'm going round to tell the man who's been storing it, and cancel the booking for the place in the market. We don't need either now. We'll think of something else. I can try to get a job and pray it'll pay enough to keep us both.'

  What that could be, she didn't know. But for once luck was on her side when she found a job helping in a small bakery shop in the High Street, and they were so desperate for someone they didn't ask for a reference. But the next day she had other problems. Hattie left their rooms at the usual time, and when Kate arrived home after a hard day serving in the shop, trying to learn the names of all the different types of bread and cakes, she found a policeman in the kitchen.

  'What is it? Mum? Where is she?'

  'Don't you fret yerself, lass,' the policeman said. 'Yer Ma's in bed, asleep.'

  'But what's happened?'

  'She took a walk, got lost, and they found her cryin' somewhere in Shirley.'

  'But that's miles away! Had she walked that far?'

  'Six or seven miles, Miss, probably more if she'd been wandering. I don't know. She wouldn't say anything, except she wanted to go home, and be with Alf. That's yer Pa?'

  Kate was appalled. 'He's dead, he died a few weeks ago. Is her mind going?'

  'No, she was able to give us this address, and we brought her back. She had her key, so we knew it was right. She said you'd be home soon, so I waited ter let yer know the score.'

  'Thank you,' Kate sighed. 'I'm grateful.'

  'She'll be all right when she's had a good kip. Losing a man takes some women like that, but they soon get back ter normal, you'll see.'

  *

  Within a couple of weeks Kate discovered that she faced much the same obstacles as before. Her job just about paid the rent, and by the time she got home, having done the shopping, and needing to cook and clean, there was no time left to earn anything by doing odd jobs in the market. Twice Hattie had wandered off. Kate, this time summoned to go and collect her mother from where she'd been found, weeping and distraught, lost more precious time.

  The blow came when her employer gave her the wages for the week.

  'Sorry, lass, but it's not going to work out, not if you has to keep taking time off to collect your ma from all over the city.'

  Kate couldn't blame him. They were always busy, and if she wasn't there the other assistants couldn't keep up, the queues of impatient shoppers and office workers got longer, and she knew some had threatened to take their custom elsewhere.

  After the first surge of despair Kate decided that she must try to get a job in the evenings. Then she might be able to work in the market during the mornings as she had previously, when they were busiest setting up. She applied to the local cinemas, and at the third one was taken on as an usherette. Taking tickets, using a small torch to show people to their seats, was comparatively easy work, but she still needed extra cash to make ends meet, and the odd jobs in the market were too unc
ertain.

  She was determined not to break into the small sum of money Mr Bridges had given her, at least for buying food, for an idea had been forming as she watched the girls in the cinema, carrying trays from which they sold sweets and ice cream during the intervals. Many of the market traders who could not afford proper stalls set up their wares at the sides of the road, carrying them on trays, in baskets or on small barrows. She could use Mr Bridges' cash to buy stock and sell that way. It had to be something small and light in weight, but fairly valuable. She needed more than one thing, too, in the hope that when customers bought one they might be tempted by others. She could do that every morning. She went to consult Bella.

  Bella was just closing down her stall, and she took Kate for a cup of tea in a nearby café.

  'Yer looks peaky,' she commented. 'Yer needs summat warm inside yer.'

  'I'm OK, the weather's warm enough for me,' Kate reassured her. 'But a cup of tea would be great.'

  Bella was silent until they had the teapot and some buns she'd ordered in front of them. 'Pens, and pencils,' she said abruptly. 'There's a manufacturer down in Hockley who'd let yer buy 'em direct, then yer don't need wholesalers.'

  'Bella, that's a wonderful idea! I could do coloured crayons and chalk too.'

  'But yer wants different things. Let me see. Would yer Ma be selling with yer?'

  Kate shook her head. 'It's a job for one,' she said. This time Hattie was to have no chance of ruining her efforts.

  'Then yer wants summat she can do ter help at home. Pins and hair grips.'

  'You mean those little cards which have the pins stuck in them, or hair grips clipped to them?'

  'That's right. Yer can buy the pins and cards in bulk. If Jarrett's won't let yer have some, there's other firms. Yer Ma can sit at home all day cardin' them, you can sell what she does. An' if yer needs to, yer can do some yerself in the evenings. But it's more likely yer'll be able ter sell on, she'll be able ter do more than you can sell in a day.'

  'Where can I get them? And I could sell hairnets too. Maybe combs. And slides for the children.'

  'That's the ticket! Soon be setting up a stall inside, along o' me!'

  *

  By the middle of the following week Kate had used half of the money to buy her stock, and a small barrow where she could display samples of everything in trays on the top, while keeping the rest stored in boxes below, ready to replenish what she sold. She had soon established a regular pitch in the Bull Ring, not far from St Martin's Church, and by the end of the week knew that with this money as well as her regular job she would be able to make enough for them to live on, to pay the rent and buy food.

  Hattie, as Kate had expected, had grumbled continuously from the start.

  You'm no more than a common tinker. Yer Dad'll be turning in his grave, seeing what yer've brought us to.'

  Kate ignored her, but soon Hattie found more cause for complaint.

  'Why should I stay in all day and prick me fingers raw with these dratted pins?' she demanded on the first morning when Kate, pleased and optimistic, arrived home to get ready to go to the cinema.

  'You can get out to do the shopping,' Kate replied. 'If you get lost I'm not coming to fetch you. I can't afford to lose another job because you're inconsiderate. I'll help in the evenings when I've finished work. Why don't you do the hair grips instead? I'll do the pins when I've had some tea.'

  'The grips are difficult, they keep twistin' so's I can't get the wavy sides on the top.'

  'That's silly!' Kate said, exasperated. 'It doesn't take a second to get them the right way up.'

  'Oh, so I'm daft now, am I?'

  Kate bit her lip. Aggravating as Hattie was she did owe her something for bringing her up, reluctantly though it had been. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean you were silly, but it's not a difficult job.'

  'It is when yer fingers are crippled with the rheumatics, after years of 'andling wet fish.'

  Kate murmured words of comfort, but inwardly fumed. Hattie had never before complained about her fingers, but when Kate took a closer look she realised that the fingers were indeed gnarled and twisted, and probably did hurt. Feeling guilty, she resolved to be less critical in future, and try to do as much as she could herself. Meanwhile, she tried to think of other jobs Hattie might do at home.

  Two weeks went by, and Kate was beginning to replace some of the money she had taken from her store. They lived frugally, mainly on bread and cheese, and the discarded vegetables Kate scavenged at the end of each day on her way home from the cinema. At least it wasn't fish, she thought with an inward grin. But soon she might indeed be able to rent a stall inside the Market Hall. That would pay more than her two jobs did now. Life began to look better for the first time since Alf had been killed. Only the departure of Maggie and her family to Coventry marred Kate's renewed optimism, but Maggie had made them promise to visit as soon as they had the money to spare for buying bus tickets.

  Hattie seemed more content too. She'd only wandered off once this week, and Kate refrained from mentioning how little work she'd done on the other days. If she herself stayed up very late she could keep her own stock of pins and hair grips replenished, but she was unable to supply anyone else, as she'd hoped.

  And then a new cause for worry occurred on Saturday. It poured with rain, a heavy autumn storm, and she was soaking wet when she arrived home and went upstairs. Hattie was out, but Kate shrugged and began to prepare a meal for herself, lighting the fire and heating up the thin broth she'd made a few days earlier from vegetables and a bag of bones Walter had given her.

  He'd been bashful, almost apologetic, insisting they'd only be thrown away.

  'And there's goodness in bones,' he explained, his voice and face earnest and somehow childlike, expecting a rebuff.

  Kate was cutting a few slices of bread from the loaf when Hattie came back. At first she did not recognise her mother's voice coming up the stairs, for Hattie was singing, loudly and tunelessly, and Kate had never before heard her do that.

  The door crashed open, making Kate jump, and Hattie, her arms round the waist of an immensely fat woman, almost fell into the kitchen.

  'Mum?' Kate put down the bread and knife and moved hurriedly towards Hattie. 'What is it?'

  Hattie's companion laughed. 'Yer Ma's 'ad a drop too much Guinness,' she said, steering Hattie to the nearest chair.

  Kate stared. As far as she knew Hattie had never drunk beer, and Alf had only rarely gone to the pub for a pint with his mates. There hadn't been money to spare, most of the time.

  The thought made Kate go cold. 'Where did you get the money from?' she demanded. 'There wasn't any left over after you bought the bread yesterday.'

  Hattie giggled. 'Yer may 'ave gone ter posh school, our Kate, but yer don't know everything!' She hiccuped, and her eyelids began to droop.

  'I'll be off, then, lass,' the woman who'd brought Hattie home said, turning towards the door.

  'Oh, yes, and thank you so much for bringing her home.'

  'Not the first time, but she's drunk more'n usual terday.'

  Kate watched her out of the room, went and closed the door, and then, dreading what she would find, went to count the money in the old sock which she had hidden under her bed.

  It was empty. Hattie had found it, she must have done, and taken their nest egg to spend on drink. It must have been happening for some time, for it all to go, but Kate had had no suspicion.

  Kate sat down on the bed, numb from this fresh disaster. How would they manage to eat? More importantly, how would they manage to pay the rent, which was due on Monday?

  She pulled out her purse and feverishly counted the coins. These were her week's wages, and a few pence she kept with her for shopping. Her shoulders drooped in relief. There was enough to pay the next week's rent, and a little for food.

  Kate began to make frantic calculations. She wouldn't be able to buy more pens or pencils, and even when she had sold all her present stock, the profit would not be enough to
buy the quantities she needed in order to get enough discount to make her own profit.

  There was no point in scolding Hattie. She was at present incapable of understanding. Kate considered her options. The only way to raise any money was to sell or pawn something. They had never resorted to this before, Alf had been adamant it was the way to certain ruin, but what else could she do? They had nothing of value to sell. And what could she pawn?

  In the end she decided that it had to be Alf's clothes. She had not been able to bring herself to even look at them after he died, neither had Hattie, but they might fetch a few shillings, enough to buy some new stock.

  The pawn shops would open on Monday morning, she would take them then. And in future she would keep every penny with her. Hattie should not have another opportunity of wrecking all her plans.

  *

  'That's better,' Daphne said, breathing in the smells of the Seine along with that of freshly baked bread. The Channel steamer had been decidedly unpleasant. Even in September, it seemed, they could endure rough seas, and Daphne had spent most of the crossing lying down, willing her uneasy stomach to stay still.

  Robert laughed. 'I'm sure you felt better the moment you got ashore and on to the train.'

  'Yes,' she admitted, 'but the memory was too recent for complacency. It was kind of you to meet me.'

  'I'm here, and your mother cabled me for help. It was the least I could do to arrange a cab and escort you from the station, when your mother was unwell and unable to accompany you. How did you leave her?'

  'Weak, but recovering. I think it was the strain of Stella's wedding and all the wretched business about the school. Mother had so many calls on her the last few weeks she barely rested, and when Stella had finally gone she collapsed.'