Hold On to Hope

by Jean Fullerton

  Jonathan stared down at his name written in the familiar hand and sadness washed over him. He was thankful she’d allowed him to unburden himself to her about Kate but he was even more grateful for her lack of censure.

  Mr Gillespie opened the leather file sitting in front of him. ‘Now, to the main change,’ he said. ‘In addition to the money she has already bequeathed to St Katharine’s Foundation, Mrs Benson charged me with setting up a trust fund with the specific purpose of providing a hot midday meal to all pupils. It is to be administered by you or your successors. As there are no cooking facilities on the school premises, Mrs Benson leaves you free to commission whichever provider you feel best. The trust will be audited by the guardians with the school accounts each year.’ He looked over the will at Jonathan. ‘I trust you are agreeable?’

  Jonathan nodded.

  ‘Have you anyone in mind for the job?’

  Jonathan smiled. ‘Indeed I have.’

  ‘Good. It will take only a couple of weeks for me to sort out the details.’

  Jonathan rose to his feet. ‘Thank you for your time.’

  Mr Gillespie gripped the arms of the chair and stood up. He took Jonathan’s hand and kept it. ‘I’ve looked after Mrs Benson’s affairs for almost thirty years and one thing I’ve learnt in dealing with her is that nothing she does is without purpose. She told me herself how fond she was of you, and although this late addition will greatly benefit the children at St Katharine’s, I know she would have added it in the manner she did with you in mind.’

  Jonathan smiled. ‘I know, and I bless her for it.’

  Kate had just started busying herself with the preparations for tomorrow’s lunch when the doorbell jingled. She looked up and held her breath as Jonathan stepped through the door. He removed his hat, ran his fingers through his hair and smiled at her.

  ‘Captain Quinn,’ she said, shaken to see him standing in her shop after so long.

  ‘Good afternoon to you, Mrs Ellis,’ he said, looking at her anxiously. ‘I hear you’ve been unwell.’

  ‘I had an upset stomach, that’s all.’

  He studied her face closely. ‘But you’re all right. I mean, you’ve fully recovered.’

  Kate smiled. ‘I have. Completely.’

  His rigid stance relaxed.

  ‘Can I get you a cup of coffee?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

  ‘Please.’

  Kate turned and with nervous hands uncorked the earthenware jar and spooned an extra portion of ground beans into the percolator.

  He handed over his money and her fingers brushed his. Their gazes locked for a second before she pulled her hand away.

  She poured the coffee, splashed the cream to float on the top and slid it towards him. ‘There you go, one cup of very strong coffee. And it was good of you to come to enquire after my health.’

  He took a sip. ‘Actually, Mrs Ellis, that wasn’t the only reason for my call,’ he said, as she studied his fingers curled around the mug.

  ‘I hope Joe isn’t giving you trouble again.’

  ‘No he’s not but I would like to talk to you privately, if I may.’

  Kate’s heart started to flutter expectantly but she controlled herself. ‘I don’t think that would be a good—’

  ‘It’s school business,’ Jonathan cut in. ‘Something you might be able to help with. Perhaps we could sit by the window to discuss it?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Of course,’ Kate replied, not quite sure if she was relieved or disappointed that Jonathan had not come to plead with her to leave again.

  She wiped her hands on her apron. He lifted the hinged section of counter for her to walk through. As she did Kate found herself passing disturbingly close to him.

  ‘After you.’ He indicated for her to go ahead of him.

  Kate’s heart hammered wildly in her chest as she wove her way to the window table knowing he was only a step behind. He waited for her to sit then took the chair on the other side and put his coffee cup down.

  ‘I had a meeting with Mrs Benson’s solicitor three days ago. He informed me that in addition to her other bequests to St Katharine’s she also made a provision in her will for the children of the school to receive a hot midday meal.’

  ‘How generous and so like her to think of something practical,’ she replied.

  ‘And,’ Jonathan smiled in the way that always sent her pulse racing, ‘the choice of supplier is mine so I would like to ask you if you would be able to supply the school with forty-five hot meals each day?’

  Kate’s eyes opened wide. ‘You want me to . . . but how? There’s no kitchen in the school.’

  ‘I know, but we can do as the army does. Cook all the food in one place and then transport it to the mess, or in this case the school. I will send Mr Delaney with the handcart to collect the meals just before noon each day. Bear in mind though that the amount allocated for each pupil is only threepence a day and payable at the end of each week.’

  Three times five times forty-five! Two pound, sixteen shillings and threepence a week! I’d need a couple of bigger pots but I’ll be able to haggle a better price out of the butcher and grocer.

  ‘Threepence a day, you say. Well, I tell you, Captain Quinn, those children will have a feast for that. No less.’

  ‘I know they will.’ His gaze flickered over her face for a moment then he stood up abruptly. ‘That’s settled, then. I’ll call by next week to finalise the menu. Good day, Mrs Ellis.’

  A weight settled on Kate as she followed him to the door.

  ‘Thank you for thinking of me,’ she said as he opened it.

  Jonathan stopped and looked down at her. ‘I’m always thinking of you, Kate,’ he said softly, then strode out of the shop.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Kate sat up on one elbow, plumped the bolster then lay down again. She stared at the ceiling and listened to the faint sound of Joe and Ella sleeping in the room opposite. It was no good. Try as she might, she knew that she would still be wide awake when the knocker-up started his round in an hour or so. It had been the same last night and the one before.

  Day and night she relived Jonathan’s every word, gesture and expression. She let her imagination conjure up images of them entwined in each other’s arms, making love and sometimes, when her need for him was almost overwhelming, Kate wished she’d let her desires have their way. But then she remembered where her passion had led her the last time.

  She rolled over and, trying not to dwell on the fact that she had to get up in two hours, started to count imaginary sheep.

  Something scuffled outside her window and she sat bolt upright.

  It’s only the yard cat, she told herself as her heart thumped painfully in her chest. Just the cat.

  She strained her ears but could only hear the low boom of the barges knocking together on the river. After a moment or two she lay back and shut her eyes again.

  She began to drift off when a crash outside snapped her fully awake.

  She threw off the bed covers and went quickly to the window. In the pale moonlight she saw someone moving about in the stable.

  To her astonishment the double gates leading out to the road creaked open and a man’s head poked out. He looked sharply up and down the road then opened the gates so that another man could push a loaded cart out to the street. They closed the gates and, taking a shaft each, pulled the cart away.

  Fear and anger twisted together in Kate’s chest. She didn’t know who they were or what they were doing but she knew as sure as there were saints above it had something to do with Freddie.

  She shrugged on her dressing gown as she ran downstairs and with trembling fingers lit a lamp, went through to the kitchen and rummaged around in the money drawer for the key to the stable. It wasn’t there.

  With blood pounding in her ears, she dashed through the parlour, collecting a poker on the way. She unbolted the back door and opened it an inch to look out on to the silent yard. Satisfied that she was alone, Ka
te dashed across to the stable, jammed the tip of the poker between the door frame and leant on it to force it open.

  What on earth . . .?

  Kate squeezed her way between crates and barrels stencilled with:

  PROPERTY OF GOSWELL BONDED WAREHOUSE WEST INDIA DOCK

  She used the poker again to prise open a couple of crates, revealing tobacco leaves, bales of silk and lace, silver plate, sacks of coffee beans and tea. There was even a pair of curled ivory tusks covered by a tarpaulin in the far corner.

  Kate stared at the stash of stolen goods knowing it could send her, and Patrick, to prison for upwards of fifteen years. Her grip on the poker tightened. For the first time in six years, she couldn’t wait to see Freddie.

  Kate tucked the greaseproof paper with Kate’s Kitchen printed in pale blue across it around the fruit cake, then placed it in the basket with others ready for the grocer to collect in the morning. Thankfully, it was half-day closing so she was able to shut up shop as soon as the last lunchtime customer had departed.

  She glanced out of the back window and prayed once again that Freddie had picked up the message she’d left him at the Sword, where she knew he still had a pint each evening.

  She looked over at Ella sitting with her head bowed over a book and Joe marching his soldier along the table top. Her resolve stiffened. She suffered enough at Freddie’s hands but this time he’d gone too far.

  But when – and if – he arrived, what would she do? She knew what she was going to say right enough, but, sweet Mary, let her keep hold of her temper.

  Suddenly the back door opened and Freddie strolled in with his hands in his pockets and his hat cocked on the back of his head.

  ‘Pa! Pa!’ Joe shouted, dashing towards his father.

  Ella looked up briefly then returned to her studies.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ Freddie asked.

  ‘Ella, Joe. Will you go to your room, please?’ Kate said, firmly.

  Ella closed her book and headed towards the stairs; with a reluctant pout, Joe followed her.

  Kate waited until the door clicked shut then turned her attention to Freddie. ‘I want your stolen haul out of my stable by morning.’

  Freddie looked unabashed. ‘It ain’t stolen – I’m storing it for someone.’

  ‘I want it moved or I’ll be going to the police.’

  He jabbed his finger at her. ‘I said it ain’t nicked.’

  ‘You’re a bloody liar, Freddie Ellis, and always have been,’ she shouted. ‘But this time you’ve gone too far. You’ll not use my home to stash your pilfered goods.’ She looked him up and down contemptuously. ‘You’re a sorry excuse for a man if ever there was one. What with your cocky swagger, fancy suits, and dirty tarts you’re nothing more than a small-time crook.’

  ‘Now you listen here, I—’

  ‘No, you listen, Freddie,’ Kate cut in. ‘Get that stuff moved or, as God is my witness, I’ll be banging on the police station door at—’

  Freddie’s fist smashed into her left cheek, sending her staggering backwards to fall against the table.

  ‘Go to the police, will you?’ he snarled, as she backed away. ‘You won’t be going anywhere when I’m finished with you.’

  Kate put her hand to her nose and felt something sticky. She looked down to see the bloody tips of her fingers.

  ‘Don’t you hit my ma!’ screamed Ella, running back into the room with Joe scrabbling along after. But while she grabbed the broom leaning against the wall to swing it at her father, Joe cowered in the corner with his hands over his face. Freddie dealt his daughter a glancing blow with the back of his hand. She landed on the floor in a heap.

  He then turned back to Kate, who’d curled herself into a ball. He kicked her then dragged her up by her hair and punched her again. She staggered but shook her head to clear the ringing in her ears as she tried to stand. Somehow she grabbed the poker from the hearth and as Freddie lunged at her again she smashed it down on his forearm. He shrieked and clutched his arm.

  ‘You fucking bitch! You’ve broken my arm.’

  ‘And I’ll break your head if you touch Ella again,’ Kate yelled back.

  Ella crawled behind Kate and put her arms around Joe, who still had his face turned away.

  ‘Ella, get up,’ she said, without taking her eyes off Freddie. ‘Take Joe and fetch your Uncle Pat. Go now!’

  Ella scrambled up, and gripping Joe by the hand, dragged him out. Kate heard them running through the yard and out of the gate.

  ‘I’d make myself scarce, if I were you, before my brother arrives with the whole of Knockfergus behind him.’

  Freddie’s face contorted with rage. ‘I’ll get you for this, you bitch,’ he ground. Nursing his injured arm, he lumbered out the back door.

  Kate, still gripping the poker, followed him and threw the bolts across. She leant on the door for a moment then crumpled to the floor.

  Aggie looked up as Freddie crashed through the Boy’s door clutching his right arm. He stomped towards her with a murderous expression on his face and threw himself into the chair.

  ‘Fucking Paddy bitch.’

  ‘What’s happened to her? Is she ill or sumink?’ she asked and wondering, not for the first time, why Kate wasn’t mouldering in her grave. She should have been after all, she’d given her enough poison to kill an ox. ‘No, more’s the pity.’ Freddie grabbed her drink and downed it in one. ‘It’s the stash in the stable. It’s lost.’

  ‘What do you mean “lost”?’

  Freddie took a gulp from the bottle. ‘The nabbers’ll have it by now . . .’ He recounted the whole story.

  ‘But if she gave you till the morning to shift the gear, why are the coppers crawling all over it now?’

  ‘Cos I belted her one and she sent the kids to fetch her poxy brother. He’ll get the rozzers down for sure.’

  Aggie sneered. ‘So you could have moved the stuff but you smacked her about instead and lost the lot.’

  ‘But she almost broke my arm.’ He raised it for her to see.

  Aggie rolled her eyes.

  ‘Well, what was I supposed to do?’ Freddie shouted. ‘I weren’t going to let her talk to me like that.’

  ‘You could have moved the gear first and then gone back and shown her what’s what. You should have finished the job, so then she couldn’t tell anyone anything. Now the coppers will be wanting to ask you a few questions about what they’ve found.’

  Freddie signalled for another bottle. ‘No one crosses Freddie Ellis and gets away with it but now she’s gone running to her fucking brother, I’ll have to lay low for a bit.’

  ‘Surely you can deal with a bloody bogtrotter.’

  ‘Of course I can.’

  Freddie jumped to his feet. ‘I’m top man around here and don’t you forget it.’ He raised his fist to her and winced.

  ‘Of course you are, Freddie,’ Aggie said. ‘Everyone knows you’re the boss.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, Aggie,’ he said, as Mary arrived with the bottle. ‘I’ll deal with her and her poxy brother, but only when I’m good and ready.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  When Mattie turned the corner, her heart nearly stopped. She gathered her skirts and dashed across the road.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she demanded, gripping the officer’s arm. ‘Is my sister all right?’

  ‘Sister?’

  ‘Mrs Ellis. This is her shop,’ Mattie replied, with a rising sense of panic. ‘Tell me nothing’s happened to her.’

  ‘Mrs Ellis has had a bit of a shock but she’s well enough,’ the constable replied.

  Mattie crossed herself rapidly. ‘Thank God! May I . . .’ She pointed at the house.

  ‘Well . . . I’ll have to check with the governor. Come with me.’

  They went through the gates into Kate’s backyard to find two constables rolling barrels from the stable and stacking crates of tea and all manner of other things. As she looked on in amazement, she heard Kate call her na
me.

  ‘Mattie!’

  Kate was standing in the door frame and although she was neatly dressed in her usual dark blue gown and a crisp white apron, her face was the colour of a Victoria plum and her left eye was swollen shut.

  ‘Me darling girl,’ Mattie said, rushing towards her sister. ‘You shouldn’t be walking about like that. You come with me right now.’

  She put her arm gently around Kate and led her back into the parlour and to her chair. She pulled over the small footstool and lifted Kate’s legs onto it then covered her in a knitted blanket from the back of the chair. She tucked it around her sister’s legs.

  ‘There, that’s better. Where are the children? Are they all right?’

  Kate nodded. ‘I thought it better if they were out of the way at school while the police were here. Ella didn’t want to leave me . . .’ Her eyes filled with tears.

  ‘Now, you keep your rear fixed on that seat while I make you a nice cuppa. Have you eaten?’

  ‘No, I can’t face it.’

  ‘Yes, you can.’ Mattie put her hands on her hips. ‘I’ll be right back with a cup of sweet tea and scrambled eggs.’

  For a moment she thought Kate was going to argue but then her sister smiled feebly. ‘Thanks, sis.’

  Mattie bent to kiss Kate lightly on her cheek then went through to the shop. The heat from the range hit her as she stepped in. Sally, who was clearing away the last of the empty plates, returned to the serving area.

  ‘If you’ll excuse my French, Mrs Tate, that Freddie Ellis is a proper bastard, and no mistake,’ Sally said as Mattie moved the kettle back onto the hotplate.

  ‘Sally, I couldn’t have said it better myself,’ Mattie said, spooning tea into the pot. ‘And may the devil take him.’

  Mattie quickly made the tea and eggs and took it back to Kate.

  ‘So what happened?’ she asked, lifting the teapot lid and stirring the leaves.