Can Dreams Come True?

by Oliver, Marina

  Kate had searched her pockets after Hattie was in bed, but found no more than a sixpence, and if that had not been half way through a small hole Hattie would no doubt have spent it too, on drink or whatever else she found more important than keeping a roof over their heads. Well, if a miracle didn't happen, they'd both be sleeping under hedges, tramping the roads and begging for their food.

  The landlady came for her rent on Monday at dinner time, when she saw Kate return with the barrow. As Kate expected, she said they had to leave if they could not pay it.

  'You can have all I took at the market today, and I'll be able to give you my wages at the end of the week. Please let me stay a short while, Mum's ill,' Kate pleaded. 'I'll try to find somewhere else, but she's not fit to move.'

  The woman insisted on seeing Hattie before she gave way. 'But you're ter be out be Saturday. If yer gives me all yer wages, what'll yer live on? I'm not a charity, I can't afford ter let yer stay.'

  Recklessly Kate agreed. That gave her a few days, but what use they would be she couldn't think.

  She saw Walter that morning. He came occasionally to ask how she did, and Kate was so desperate she told him what had happened.

  'I can lend yer a bit,' he offered, and Kate shook her head.

  'That's kind, but I don't think I could ever repay you.'

  An hour later Walter was back, with Barny.

  'Kate, Barny 'ere says some of the places in his road have bin cleared and boarded up. They'm gonna pull 'em down soon. Yer could get in one and no one would know if yer stayed at the back.'

  'Not pay rent, you mean? That's stealing.'

  'No it ain't,' Barny said. 'No one else wants it. Just fer a few weeks, 'til yer can save a bit and afford a proper room.'

  Kate considered it. 'I can't see any other way.'

  'No rent ter pay, yer'd be able ter save up an' find summat better soon,' Walter said, echoing Barney.

  'I'd need some furniture, mattresses and a couple of chairs, a table. And coal. Is there a fireplace? But people would see the smoke, and be suspicious.'

  'The chimneys are all tergether, and the place next door isn't boarded up, they ain't left yet. They'd think smoke came from that 'ouse. As fer coal, there's no end of old wood lyin' around.'

  Kate nodded. 'I can't think what else to do.'

  'I can borrow me Dad's cart ternight, push it there,' Barny said. 'And the one I'm thinkin' of, there's a shed at the back fer yer own barrow.'

  *

  Hattie grumbled, as usual, but Kate was ruthless, and told her it was all her own fault, they could have managed if she'd been sensible and helped instead of stealing all their money to waste on beer. Kate felt like a criminal, creeping through the back alley and into the back door of the house, where Barny had loosened a couple of the boards so that they could be pushed aside enough to squeeze through the opening.

  She gradually filled her purse, but only with coppers, barely enough to live on. What she would do for more stock when she needed it she did not know. Perhaps she ought to abandon all her hopes of starting her own business and try for a better-paid job now that she could hope for a reference. She'd give it another week and then, if things didn't improve, she'd try once more to find a different job.

  Ten days after they moved in Hattie, who had not ventured outside, once more vanished early one morning. Kate, exhausted from doing two jobs, had slept late. She flung herself back on the mattress they shared, and decided that this time she'd had enough. There was nothing she could do except wait, but this time, would the police bring Hattie back here? If they did, what sort of trouble would they be in? Would they be charged with trespass, or even theft?

  There was nothing she could do, so she went to the market. When Kate came back at dinner time to change before going to the cinema, and heard tentative footsteps on the path outside the back door, she froze. Then she relaxed as she heard Hattie's voice. At least she was safe.

  'Come in, Mrs Carstairs. It's no palace, like yer own glorious residence, but it's home to me and poor Kate, all she can afford fer me, after all I've done ter keep the kid at yer posh school.'

  Hattie tugged the boards aside, and scrambled through the hole. She held them back, and to her utter horror Kate saw Mrs Carstairs follow Hattie inside, blinking at the gloom.

  'Kate, my dear, are you here? I can't see.'

  'Mrs Carstairs! Let me light a candle. It's always dark in here, we have to keep the windows covered.'

  Mrs Carstairs looked round, and at Hattie's invitation sat in one of the two chairs. Hattie took the other, apologising volubly for the lack of tea.

  Kate scrambled awkwardly to her feet. 'You shouldn't have come here! It's not fitting!'

  'Nor is it for you to have to live here. Kate, it's all my fault! Daphne told me what she'd done. The reference, I mean. I shouldn't have been so hasty to accuse you. And it was grossly unfair of me to dismiss Maggie. I can't apologise enough! But she'd gone, and your old landlady could not tell me where you'd moved. I was at a stand until your mother came to see me today.'

  Kate was speechless. Hattie smiled and nodded graciously.

  'I'm sure Kate will forgive you, Maggie too. My daughters were brought up to be polite to their betters.'

  'I hear Maggie is doing well in Coventry? I don't have her address, but I want to offer her some compensation for lost wages. Can you tell me where she is living?'

  'Yes. I'll write it down, if you have any paper,' Kate managed.

  'I'll take the money with me when I go to visit Maggie,' Hattie offered, and Kate shook her head vehemently.

  'No! You'll – you'll lose it! Mrs Carstairs, can I speak to you outside? Please?'

  Hattie glared at her. 'I suppose yer'll be accusin' me of stealing it, like yer says I stole yer money,' she cried.

  'Well, you did, or we wouldn't have been in this dreadful state!' Kate flared, losing her temper suddenly.

  'Would your sister be able to help your mother, Kate? If I gave her something to – shall we say – ease the problems?'

  'They only have two rooms, and there are seven of them.'

  'Then perhaps they can rent another room with what I will give them. Do you want to go too, and get a job there?'

  Kate shook her head. 'No. I have a job now. That is, I'm grateful, but I don't want to risk being a burden on Maggie, if I can't find a job there.'

  'A job? Tell me? Is it one you enjoy?'

  'I work in the afternoons and evenings as an usherette, and in the mornings I sell small items from a market barrow. It brings in enough for us to live. We – er – lost some, but we'll soon make up for it, be able to move back to decent rooms.'

  'You can't enjoy doing that, and you look utterly drained. I have another suggestion. An acquaintance of mine, who has a shop in Sutton Coldfield, needs someone to help. They will provide a room too, in their own house at Oscott. They are good people, their son was at school with Norman. If I suggest you they will take you in.'

  It seemed like a dream come true to Kate. Hattie would be cared for, no longer her sole responsibility, and she would be free, with a pleasant job and a home, to live her own life. Perhaps her dreams would come true after all.

  'I – yes, please, that sounds wonderful! I don't know how to thank you!'

  'No need. Rather I should be thanking you for giving me the opportunity to make amends. Now, we'll take a cab back to Edgbaston, Mr Carstairs will drive your mother over to Coventry tomorrow, you shall stay with me a few more days and I will see you are properly fitted out for your new job.'

  ***

  Chapter 6

  Robert stared over the rail at the grey, choppy sea. He'd be glad to get home. For two months he seemed to have been on the move, back and forth to Paris almost every week. At least sometimes he'd been able to use the new service between Dover and Dunkirk, sleeping in his railway carriage berth for the entire journey, while the train was loaded onto the ferry. Now he would have some free time, since they had bought the land for the new fa
ctory, had the designs approved, and chosen a firm to build it. For three months at least, possibly until well into the new year, he would be in Birmingham. He'd had a few ideas for improved designs, and wanted to try them out.

  He'd look for Kate. The image of her haunted his dreams, even when, in attempts to forget her, he went out with other girls. She was young, but she'd be six months older than when he'd met her, probably sixteen by now. For the rest of the journey home he made plans. He'd have to avoid Alf, as much for Kate's sake as his own, but he swore he'd be better prepared for another assault should he meet Alf again. He'd look in the market.

  Daphne had said little, on the occasions when, feeling duty-bound, he had taken her to dine or to the theatre when he had a free evening in Paris. Kate had not written, she'd told him, and she assumed that she was now more absorbed in her new life than with her old school friends.

  It was three days before Robert was free to spend a few hours in the market, asking about the Martins family. He went to the management offices, and was invited inside.

  'Take a seat, sir. How can I help you?'

  'You must have records of the stall holders. I'm seeking a family called Martins. They had, I believe, a fish stall, but whether in the Market Hall or elsewhere I don't know.'

  'Martins? Martins? Let me think. There's one in the Hall, selling clothing, so he can't be the one. And there's a Martin. Are you sure that's the right name? We've a Mortain too.'

  Robert shook his head. 'Definitely Martins. The man's name was Alfred, they called him Alf, and his wife was Hattie.'

  The man slapped one fist into the other hand. 'Alf Martins! Of course! But you haven't heard?'

  'Heard what?' The man sounded odd, a mixture of sorrow and excitement.

  'He was killed, some months ago now.'

  'Killed? But how? In a fight?' Had Alf met with someone stronger or tougher than himself? Was he a regular bruiser? Had he ever hit Kate? Robert went cold at the thought, and then realised that whatever had been done in the past, Kate was free of a violent father now.

  'I don't think Alf was that sort of man,'

  Robert fingered his chin reminiscently, but remained silent.

  'No, it was a tragic accident. Never need have happened. And all because Alf tried to do a good deed.'

  Robert raised his eyebrows. From what he knew of Alf that seemed unlikely. 'What were the circumstances?'

  'Runaway horse and cart, terrified when a van caught fire. Alf apparently tried to stop it, but the poor beast was in a panic, and too strong for him, knocked him down and the cart ran over him.'

  'I see. Tragic indeed. And his family? What happened to them?'

  'Oh, they tried to carry on for a while, the wife and daughter, but it was too much for them. We all told them it wasn't work for women, one getting old, the other a slip of a lass.'

  Robert cursed inwardly that he hadn't known, hadn't been able to help Kate. 'So what happened to them? Did they find other work?'

  'The lass started selling small things, doing quite well, I believe, but then I heard they'd moved away. I've not seen her or her Ma for a month or more. Gone right away from Birmingham.'

  Robert's heart sank. He'd been so hopeful of finding her, now it seemed he'd come too late. How could he find her? He'd do his damndest, however long it took. 'And you've no idea where?'

  'Mrs Martins, or at least her family, came from Ireland, I heard. Perhaps she went back there.'

  'If she has family, they would know,' Robert suggested, a faint surge of hope encouraging him.

  'I never knew of any, except her other daughter, and I didn't see her much, she didn't work around here.'

  'Do you know where she lived? Her name?'

  'Sorry, sir, no idea.'

  'Is there anyone I can ask?'

  'I can't say, but you could try the other stallholders round where they used to have their pitch.'

  Robert thanked the man. It was little enough information, but he had to pursue it. There was nothing else.

  Two hours later, as it grew dark and the stallholders began to pack up for the day, he turned despondently away. Several had known Kate and Hattie, but they didn't know where they were now. Robert went to the house where they'd lived, but if they really had moved away he didn't hold much hope that their old landlady would know where. So it proved.

  'Owed me rent,' she told him, clearly still resentful. 'The old woman were a right silly bitch. Half the time she reeled home drunk, and God knows how many times Kate had to go and fetch 'er from where she'd wandered off and got lost. I felt sorry fer the gal, but business is business. I'm not a charity, I couldn't let them stay without payin' me rent.'

  'Do you know where they went?'

  'No idea. Sorry,' she added with a careless shrug.

  'Do you know anyone who might know? Friends? Family?'

  'You're mighty keen ter find them. Owe you as well, did they? No, they dain't mix much. There was the older daughter, married with kiddies, but I don't know where she lives, nor even her name.'

  Robert thanked her and went home. For the moment he could think of nothing more to try. Daphne didn't know, in fact she'd been annoyed when he'd asked, and told him curtly that her mother didn't know either, and was so annoyed with Kate about the fuss at school that she'd resent any enquiries. If Kate were lost to him he would regret to the end of his days that he had not been more decisive much earlier.

  *

  Mr and Mrs Wilson had welcomed Kate with great kindness, and a month into her new life Kate felt as happy as she had been at school. Not only was she living almost in the country, able to take long walks on Sundays and Wednesday afternoons, when the shop was closed, in Sutton Park or to Barr Beacon, the job itself was interesting and she had the luxury of a room of her own. She was beginning to save, too, and whenever an aeroplane flew overhead she dream of being up there. One day she might manage to save up enough to experience a flight, even if she couldn't afford the lessons she'd once dreamed of.

  The shop was a ladies and gentlemen's outfitters, two separated departments which sold almost everything necessary for clothing both adults and children. Kate helped in the ladies' gowns and outerwear section, which was the easiest for her to learn, Mrs Wilson said. Coats, skirts, blouses and dresses hung on rails, hats were displayed in glass-fronted cases. A small curtained alcove gave privacy for any lady wishing to try on a dress or skirt. Gradually, when she had no customers, Kate began to find her way round the rest of the stock, and soon knew which drawers held the underwear, hosiery, handkerchiefs, gloves and scarves.

  'Mrs Carstairs said you were good at figures,' Mr Wilson said after Kate had been there for a week. 'Could you do the books for me, add up the till rolls each evening, keep the records of what's been sold?'

  'I'd like to try,' Kate said eagerly. She was determined to learn as much as she could, gain experience which would help her find another job, if she had to leave this present haven.

  'I'll show you when we close, then.'

  Mrs Wilson went home, to their house in Oscott, overlooking Sutton Park, when the shop was closed that evening, and Kate went into the small office on the second floor, where Mr Wilson had taken the cash from the different tills.

  'First I count each one,' he said, tipping the notes and coins from a small canvas bag. 'Then I tot up the till roll. Look, I've torn off what we used today and dated it, and put which till it's from, and hope they match. Here, take out the notes and sort them, then sort the coins, make piles of a pound apiece. Yes, that's the way.'

  He then set Kate to add the amounts which had been entered on the till roll. 'Don't forget to subtract the float. That's entered at the beginning of the roll.' Then they checked it with the cash, and to Kate's relief the totals matched.

  'Make a list of each till, the amount, and afterwards we can add up the overall total.'

  'Does it often go wrong?' she asked.

  'Not often. Usually it's a mistake in giving change, but everyone's very careful. They kno
w they might get the sack if they're not! Sometimes one till doesn't have the right change, and then we have to take it from another till, and it may be forgotten, not entered.'

  'I see.'

  'If it matches, put the coins and till roll back in the bag, and do the next one. Any that don't match put aside and usually we can find out where the mistake happened. Finally, when it's all square, I make up the floats for the next day, put them in these bags, then put all the coins into bags for the bank, and the notes, and put it all in the safe.'

  'And the books?' Kate asked.

  Mr Wilson reached for some large, leather-bound ledgers. 'See, on this side there are columns for each till. Every day I can enter how much has been put into each till, and that shows me whether the ladies' outerwear, or the men's hats, is selling steadily. If it doesn't, I can ask why. In this column the day's total takings, and each week I do a grand total in the final column. Think you could do this? I'd have to check, of course, until you get the hang of it.'

  'But you'd have to be here to put it in the safe,' Kate said.

  'Yes, but there's always some tidying to do, bills to pay, stock to order, jobs which it's only possible to do when the shop's closed. If I can leave the cashing up to you I'll be able to get home an hour earlier most nights.'

  When they had finished he checked that all was securely locked, and Kate stood outside while he paraded along the two windows either side of the shop doorway, commenting to himself on the displays, making notes of what needed to be changed. Kate was shivering, the night was cold, and though she had spent her first wages on a couple of skirts suitable for wearing in the shop, she had not yet bought a new coat. She didn't need one, for her room, with a tiny kitchen and, to Kate, the wonderful luxury of a bathroom, was above the shop. It didn't matter at all that during shop hours she had to share the kitchen and bathroom with the three other assistants in the shop. They had their tea breaks there, and if they brought sandwiches for their dinners they ate them there too.

  She had worried about living in the same house as her employers, not knowing if she'd be treated as a servant or member of the family, but this arrangement suited them all much better. Mrs Wilson often brought her a dish of food, usually stew or the remains of a joint, with vegetables, which Kate could heat up in the small gas oven.