'The lass is staying at school next year an' that's final!'
Alf Martins glared at his wife. Why couldn't Hattie accept what a great chance it was for one of their family? But she'd always been cold to poor Kate, resented the child. He sighed and watched her as she lifted the kettle onto the fire and turned to face him. Her mouth was pinched, her hair, now grey and thin, scraped back into an untidy bun. She was nothing like the bonny, rosy-cheeked lass he'd married almost forty years ago, when the old queen was still alive.
'But Kate's nearly sixteen, Alf! All the other kids left school two year ago. It's high time she was earning a living, and with the way things have bin lately, we could do with an extra wage coming in. We still owes fer the new cart, and it don't seem to bring no more business.' Hattie turned her back on him and poked the fire viciously. 'Come on, boil, can't yer?'
Alf winced. She'd never forgiven him for buying the new cart, but he'd have been able to pay for it if he hadn't been ill with bronchitis last winter, unable to go to the fish market, or stand all day in the market. It wasn't her fault. Hattie had done her best, but it wasn't work for a woman, pushing the heavy cart laden with fish. She'd bought too much, and the wrong sort, and for a couple of months they'd had barely enough to pay the rent and feed themselves.
'We'll pay, in good time. But our Kate's stayin' at school. The lass has a good little brain on her, and it 'ud be a wicked shame ter stop her.' His voice softened. 'Just think, Hattie, our little Kate a teacher, wouldn't that mek yer proud as Punch?'
'Most like mek 'er too high and mighty ter speak to us. How would yer like that?' she demanded, taking down the tea caddy from the mantlepiece and carefully measuring a teaspoon of tea into the old brown pot.
'Nah, not little Kate!'
Hattie snorted. 'She could help a bit before going ter that posh school,' she muttered, tilting the kettle to pour water onto the tea leaves.
'I'll not have Kate tired out afore she starts. 'Sides, yer knows how the little bleeders in the first class kept saying she smelt of fish.'
'It smells everywhere, in our clothes, hair, everywhere,' Hattie muttered. 'And where is she now? Look at the time, she should have bin home an hour ago.'
'Probably with young Daphne Carstairs. She said summat about a tennis match they was down fer. Gone ter play on the Carstairs's court, perhaps.'
Hattie slammed the teapot down in front of him. 'Tennis! What good's that doing? Thinks she's another Helen Moody, I s'pose!'
'Don't be daft, woman! All the nobs play tennis, and if our Kate's gonna mix with them, best she learns.'
Before Hattie could reply they heard swift, light footsteps on the stairs leading to their rooms, and a moment later Kate burst into the room. She was out of breath, rosy-cheeked, and smiling broadly.
'Sorry I'm late, Mum, but the match went on longer than we expected. We won! Against the High School! It's the first time for ages, and even Mac smiled. What's for tea? I'm starving.'
Alf beamed at his daughter. She looked so like Hattie had when he'd met her, slim and pretty with her dark, curly hair and eyes so deeply blue they were almost violet. The Irish colouring was strong in his womenfolk. Maggie, their other daughter, was the same. Briefly he wondered what their sons would have been like, had they lived more than a day. Would they have taken after Hattie, or been fair like him? It was because they were twins, and came too early, they'd said. Hattie had never really got over their loss. He'd have liked a big family, but there's been no more babies till Kate.
'Sit down,' Hattie said brusquely. 'It's bread and scrape. Yer dad said he was fed up with fish, so he can mek do with what else we can afford.'
Alf felt guilty. He hadn't thought of the consequences of that idle remark, but he should have known his Hattie by now. He watched Kate swiftly lower her eyes and bite her lip, then reach for a thick slice of bread.
'Good,' she said after a slight pause. 'It's too hot for anything cooked, isn't it?'
*
Kate lay in her narrow bed and waited for the door to close. It was early, but her parents started the day soon after sunrise, to get to the wholesale fish market and pick the best of the fish for their stall in the Bull Ring. When she was sure they had gone she slid from under the thin blanket and pulled on an old dress. She had to sit on the bed to do it, for it was crammed behind the big wardrobe in her parents' bedroom, with only a few inches of spare space beside it. When she'd started at her new school four years ago Dad had wanted to rent the small room next to their two for her, but Mum had objected, saying the expense was too much, and they could give her enough privacy by rearranging the furniture in their own bedroom. Kate had offered to sleep in the kitchen, but Mum had said it was too hot, and they'd disturb her when they had to get up early in the morning.
She longed for a room of her own. The snorts and wheezes from the big bed, her father's loud snoring, and the creaking of the old iron bedstead when they got up at dawn were, she was sure, far more disturbing. But she had learned early not to argue with her mother. One day she would have her own room, like Daphne did, and be able to have her books beside her bed and read them whenever she liked.
Her thoughts turned to a problem which constantly troubled her. Should she leave school, insist on finding a job and helping to support them? It was what Mum wanted, but Dad was always adamant she must stay to take her matriculation and go to college. She wanted to do that, wanted to please him, but agonised whether it was selfishness on her part, not right for her to let them work so hard when all she could contribute were the few pennies she earned doing odd jobs round the Market Hall.
Even they only helped provide her with things for school, the expense of which she tried to keep from her parents. She needed notebooks and pencils, tennis shoes and materials for the needlework and cookery classes. She couldn't buy them secondhand, as she did her textbooks and uniform. Daphne was generous, like a big sister,giving her an old tennis racquet, but the rest she was determined to provide for herself.
She went into the kitchen. There was still some hot water in the kettle, and tea in the pot. She drank the tea thirstily, poured the water into the sink, refilled the kettle and put it back on the tiny fire. Then she dipped a piece of rag into the water in the bowl and wiped her face. She'd wash properly later. Depending on what work she could find, she might be filthy when she came back. She made sure all was tidy, then quickly left the house. There was over an hour before she must return and get ready for school, and there were always odd jobs available in the Market Hall when the stall holders were setting up for the day. As Dad had his pitch outside, in the Bull Ring beside St Martin's church, she was unlikely to encounter them and get a scolding from her mother.
As she walked through the streets towards the market, dodging the porters and the various carts and lorries delivering produce, she was busy calculating how much she needed for the rest of the summer term. She could make do with an old, unfilled notebook, but she had to pay for the trip to the theatre. Then there would be the books she needed for the following year. She had to have money ready to be able to snap up the bargains from girls who no longer needed them.
She frowned. Most of the girls could afford to buy new books, but they still preferred to buy old ones, especially if the previous owners, names proudly inscribed inside, had been popular. That left her and the other scholarship girls, who didn't have the choice, struggling to pay for essentials.
She had a couple of pence in her pocket, and might be able to earn a few more.
Though it was still early the Market Hall was busy, the stall-holders setting out their wares, bringing in crates and baskets of fruit, vegetables, fish and meat, and the hundreds of other goods which were sold there.
'You'm about early, Kate,' one of the women called to her.
'Have you any work for me?' Kate replied. 'I've an hour before I have to go home.'
'Sorry, luv, not terday. Mebbee ternight, when I'm packin' up.'
Kate nodded. She tried several more stall-holders, but none of them needed help, until she found Bella, an elderly lady who was only too glad to pay her twopence to clamber on a small pair of steps, hanging the goods on the top of the stall to help display her collection of pots and pans, brooms and mops.
Clutching the pennies she drifted across to the meat stalls, and smiled at Walter Thomson, a lad just a few months older than herself, who had been in her class at the board school, before she won the scholarship. He was busy hanging up sides of beef on huge hooks at the back of the stall.
'Hello, Walter.' Kate didn't particularly like him, but he was the only one from her first school who ever spoke to her. The rest, either jealous or scornful that she was going to a posh school, had taken delight in taunting her until, leaving school themselves, they found other interests.
He blushed, ducked his head, beaming at her, then glanced nervously over his shoulder. 'Kate. How's things?'
'Same as ever. How are you?'
He shook his head. 'Fed up with the travelling. We got moved out ter Kingstanding, new house,' he explained. 'Not as handy as Skinner Lane.'
Kate nodded and slid away. Five minutes later she was on her way home.
*
Maggie heaved her bulky body out of the chair and caught at her husband's sleeve. He tried to shake her off but desperation made her cling tighter.
'Sam, it won't take more'n a few minutes. Please. You can do it on the way back. I don't feel up to walking all that way this morning.'
'Send one of the kids, can't yer?'
'They can't carry spuds back all that way.'
'Why not? Jeannie's gettin' on fer ten.'
Maggie sighed impatiently. 'Talk sense! Jeannie's at school, and the little 'uns can't manage.'
'I'd got plans,' he muttered, resentment plain in his voice.
'Well, so had I, but bairns take no account of that! I think the pains have started. My back aches summat cruel.'
'Get old Ma Gamage in from down the road.'
'Yes, when I'm sure. But will you get the spuds and a loaf of bread?'
'I ain't got no money.'
Maggie glared at him. 'You had enough last night to spend on beer! You stank, Sam Pritchard! You made me feel sick, breathing beer fumes all over me!'
'Can't a chap let a good pal treat 'im? It weren't my money. I don't have none.'
She didn't believe him. Sam was rarely without the coppers to buy a pint. When he found an odd job, she had to be quick to get any of the cash away from him. Without the money she earned they'd have been in the workhouse long ago. With a deep sigh she pulled her purse out of her apron pocket and shook out a few coins.
'That the last I've got, and if you don't bring back spuds and bread, and the change, so help me, I'll brain you!'
*
Daphne Carstairs was waiting for Kate in the usual spot, looking worried. Kate grinned at her as Daphne began scolding. She was a loyal friend, but sometimes Kate thought she took life too seriously.
'Did you bring the paper? Was there anything about Amy Johnson in it? There must have been when she got back to London on Friday. After all, she broke the record to Cape Town and back, less than thirteen days.'
'Yes, but you're not seeing it till later, after the exam. Kate, come on, we'll be late, and there's the Maths exam this morning. We don't want to miss that, or that swat Jane Dodd will be crowing. She was saying yesterday, on the way home, that she would come top, and we all know you're the best in the school!'
They began to walk down Calthorpe Road, joining the stream of girls heading towards the large mansion which had been turned into a school twenty years before. Kate held her hat in her hand, relishing the slight breeze ruffling her hair. It felt so fresh after the all-pervading fishy aroma at home, the stuffiness and constant noise and bustle of the market and the streets surrounding it.
'I want to fly!' she said, waving her arms like wings. 'I want to pretend I'm Amy Johnson!'
Daphne suddenly grasped her by the arm. 'Look out, put your hat on, there's prosy Pamela.'
Kate glanced across the road and saw the Head Girl glaring at her. Then she was hidden by a large motor van.
Daphne wrinkled up her nose fastidiously. 'I hate that smell, and the noise they make. There are more of them each year.'
How would Daphne like the early morning market, Kate wondered. There motor vans and horse-drawn carts and porters wheeling barrows jostled for room, everyone seeming to shout, and the stink of horses and meat and beer mingled with the smell of petrol. One day, she vowed, she'd escape. She'd save enough money to take flying lessons. Then reality hit her. It was an impossible dream. How would her parents manage without her?
Her attention came back to the present as Pamela began to cross the road and Daphne nudged her. 'Put on your hat, Kate!'
'Why do you always have to ignore school rules?' Pamela demanded, loud and imperious.
'It's too hot to wear hats,' Daphne began in defence of her friend, but Kate, despising the placatory tone, and suddenly unable to bear the petty restrictions any longer, cut across her.
'If I choose not to wear this silly, unfashionable hat, that's my business!'
'And mine. You're on report, Kathleen Martins, for disobeying school rules and for impertinence. Miss MacDonald will want to know why you, a scholarship girl who ought to be honoured to come to such a school, seem to despise it.'
Daphne pulled a face as Pamela turned away, but Kate laughed harshly. A couple of curious first formers ran past them, giggling at Daphne's expression.
'I may as well leave now,' Kate said.
'You have to take your school cert, matriculate,' Daphne said. 'Then you can train to be a teacher.'
'But after Dad's illness there's so little money at home. It's expensive to go to college. Anyway, I don't think I could bear to be a teacher. I've had enough of schools and their silly rules. I want to earn money, to help out at home.' More money, she added to herself, than the few shillings she earned now, which all went on essential things for school.
Daphne frowned. 'But what else can you do, without matric? Of course, you could be a film actress. You're prettier than most of them, but how do you find out about being that?'
Kate laughed, her spirits miraculously restored. 'Don't be so daft, Daffy, I'm not pretty at all. I thought I'd try to get a position in a shop. I love clothes,' even though I rarely have new ones, she thought wistfully. 'I'd like to sell them.'
'I don't think shopgirls are paid a lot,' Daphne added thoughtfully. 'Not enough to afford the clothes they sell, even if they do get special prices.'
Kate looked affectionately at her. Daphne lived in Edgbaston with wealthy parents. She'd never been short of money, and Mrs Carstairs probably spent more on one hat than her family earned in a week.
'I'd manage,' she said. 'Look, there's Moaner Mac staring at us. There, behind that rhododendron bush.'
Daphne shuddered. 'He's weird! Why does Mac let him stay here?'
'He sweeps the paths and cuts the grass. I suppose he earns his keep.'
'The little ones are terrified when he jumps out at them, pulling faces and making that endless momomo sound.'
'He's her brother, I suppose she feels responsible for him. She must be twenty years older.'
'Their mother must have been very old when he was born. I wonder if that's what addled his wits?'
'I'm twenty years younger than Maggie,' Kate told her indignantly. 'And my wits aren't addled!'
Daphne laughed. 'Sorry! I forgot.'
'You can study that when you're a doctor,' Kate said.
'If they ever let me. They want me to be finished in Paris and find a wealthy husband. Maybe I will, I don't think I'm clever enough to become a doctor.'
'You can do it if you want. Families have to take care of each other, even when they're as odd as moaning Mac!'
By now they were at the gateway to the small private school, and Kate jammed the hated straw boater on her head. Pamela was waiting for her in the cloakroom.
'Miss MacDonald wants to see you immediately after Prayers,' she hissed at Kate. 'Don't keep her waiting or you'll be in even worse trouble.'
Kate's mind wandered during Prayers. She'd prayed, hard, last winter, that her father would get better, but she was afraid that his illness would return with the cold weather. Then what would they do? It was Dad who insisted she remained at school, when she could have left a year and a half ago, when she reached fourteen. He had insisted on allowing her to go to a respectable school in the first place, one patronised by Birmingham tradesmen and wealthy people who lived in Edgbaston. Mum would never have agreed, even with Maggie urging it.
Kate's thoughts drifted to her older sister. Maggie was twenty years older, married with several children. It had been because she worked for Mrs Carstairs, who was a Governor of the school, that Kate had been urged to take the scholarship examination. She'd be eternally grateful to her big sister, even if she had to leave soon.
It had been hard at first. Some of the girls, supercilious and hateful, had mocked at her speech and her clothes. She'd gone to school in a blouse and tunic inexpertly made by her mother, instead of having them bought from the official supplier. Only with her blazer had Mum given way, realising that it was beyond her limited skills to make one. Kate had felt ashamed, out of place, and then guilty at being ashamed.
It had improved. She'd made a few friends, Daphne Carstairs in particular. Daphne was a year older, almost seventeen. She'd missed a year of school when she was little, so was the oldest in the form. She and her older sister Stella were both brilliant at tennis, and popular with the younger girls, and this had made a great difference. Kate was accepted, even though few girls other than Daphne ever invited her home with them.
Daphne never seemed to mind that she didn't invite her back to their lodgings. She knew how it was, that both her parents had to work. Kate knew she was always welcome at the Carstairs' house, and she relished the opportunity of living, for a few hours, a life of ease and luxury.
She was going to a party there tomorrow, Saturday. Stella, by now a young lady of nineteen, who had spent last year enjoying the London Season, was celebrating her engagement to the son of a rich, titled man who owned, Daphne reported in awe, thousands of acres in the Scottish Highlands. Daphne had insisted she wanted a few friends of her own to keep her company at Stella's party, and Kate had been her first choice.
While she waited outside Miss MacDonald's room, Kate puzzled about what she could wear. She had one white dress for best, but it made her look about twelve. She needed something more sophisticated. Mum would object, but Kate decided she would wear the rose-pink silk which Maggie had given her. One of the other ladies Maggie cleaned for had given it to her sister, but Maggie said it was too small for her, and in any case, when would she ever have an opportunity to wear such fine clothes. Kate knew it suited her pale complexion and black hair. It was daring with a low-cut neckline, the skirt longer at the back than the front, but it floated beautifully when she twirled around. There would be dancing at the party, and Kate was imagining herself whirling round in the big drawing room, held in the arms of a handsome man, when the door was flung open and she was confronted by Miss MacDonald.
The Headmistress was tall and gaunt, with a permanent frown on her thin face. She always wore long black skirts and navy blouses, her hair rolled into a tight bun, defying fashion.
'Why are you smiling, Kathleen? You have nothing to smile about, believe me. Enter.'
Kate did so, trying to look contrite. 'I smiled because my father is feeling so much better in this warm weather,' she said swiftly. Any admission that she had been thinking of clothes, when she was here because of not wearing her hat, would bring forth a tirade against vanity.
She stood with her head bowed, enduring a lecture on due gratitude for the benefits she was receiving with her free education at such an exclusive school. She promised to behave properly, as a young lady would, even if she could not aspire to that description.
'I shall not permit you another chance,' Miss MacDonald concluded. 'You have a great deal to be grateful for, to Mrs Carstairs in particular, and I send her a report on your progress every term. You would not wish to disappoint your benefactress, I hope.'
'Of course not. I am most grateful to her,' Kate murmured.
'Then show it by your behaviour. Dismiss.'
*
Her father beamed at Kate. 'That dress really suits yer, lass. Have a good time, now, and give young Stella our best wishes.'
Alf had never met any of the Carstairs, but he took a keen interest in their doings, the furnishings of their house, the food on the table, and the servants who waited on them. Hattie scoffed at him, mocking his belief that one day Kate would inhabit such a house, but Kate always tried to recall the slightest detail to tell after any visit.
Kate smiled at him, and finished rubbing her legs with gravy browning, a trick Maggie had told her about to disguise lack of stockings.
'I won't be late,' she promised. It would not do to disturb them after they'd gone to bed, especially on Saturday, which was always the busiest day of the week.
'Mind you aint,' Mum said. 'Gallivanting with the nobs! What next?'
Kate kissed her parents, and set off to walk to Edgbaston. Farquar Road was further than the walk to school. By the time Kate turned into the driveway of the large house, set in an extensive garden, the party was well under way, and several motor cars were parked in the drive and on the wide road outside. She hesitated, feeling shy suddenly. This would be her first grown-up party, and she didn't know whether to go through the open front door, creep round to the back, or through the conservatory at the side of the house, where she could see lights but no people.
Voices behind her made her swing round.
'Hello, what have we here? A nymph, it seems. Are you one of Stella's friends?'
Kate looked at the two young men who were dressed in impeccable evening clothes, and gulped. She hadn't met anyone like them before. The boys Daphne and Stella played tennis with on the court behind the house were callow schoolboys. Only their elder brother, Norman, was grown up, and he was rarely at home since he worked in London. Kate had only met him once, for a few brief minutes.
'Er, no, I'm Daphne's friend,' she said diffidently.
'Well, let's go in,' the taller one said, and with a smile held out his arm to Kate.
She stole a glance up at him as they walked on to the house. He was tall and slim, but his shoulders were broad, and he had a firm mouth and determined chin. He looked trustworthy, and she relaxed. She'd been apprehensive about meeting Stella's London friends. She had feared they might be very sophisticated, possibly aloof, even contemptuous of provincial Birmingham people. But these two seemed friendly.
Inside the house Kate swiftly dropped her hand from his arm as Stella descended on them. 'Bob! Charles! I thought you were going to disappoint me and not come. Hello Kate, Daphne's somewhere around.'
'We were delayed, had a puncture coming home from the rally,' Kate's escort said, kissing Stella on the cheek. 'Where's Gordon? He's a lucky dog, stealing you from under our noses.'
Stella laughed, linked arms with them both, and walked away. Kate went to find Daphne, who was in the small back parlour, laughing and joking with some of their schoolfriends and a few boys from King Edward's School, the sons of Daphne's neighbours.
They could hear the music, and Kate found her feet tapping to the rhythm. One of the boys, Lionel Summers, rather shyly asked her to dance, and trying to ignore the teasing comments from the rest he led her through to the big drawing room.
The carpet had been rolled up, a trio of musicians sat in the bay window, and to Kate it seemed as though dozens of people were whirling about the room. Lionel was a good dancer, and Kate was able to follow his lead easily. They'd been taught to dance at school, but the girls had partnered one another. Kate had usually danced with Daphne, and as her friend was the taller, she had taken the man's role. Looking round her, Kate almost laughed to see Daphne, partnered by one of the other boys, trying to show him the proper steps.
When the music stopped they stood at the side and watched as Stella, and the man Kate guessed was her fiancé, demonstrated a tango.
'Can you do this?' Lionel asked, and Kate shook her head.
'They wouldn't approve at school,' she said, and laughed. It did look rather a wicked dance, Stella pressed close to her partner's body, and the way she was twisting her head aside, yet giving him flirtatious looks.
The music changed to a more sedate waltz. Stella laughingly collapsed onto one of the chairs, and Lionel asked Kate to dance again.
As the dance finished Kate found the man she'd met in the drive beside her.
'My turn now, old chap. You can't keep her to yourself all evening.'
Lionel blushed, stammered, and stepped back. He nodded to them, and swung on his heel, walking swiftly out of the room.
'We were never introduced. I'm Robert Manning, known to my friends as Crazy Bob.'
'I'm Kate Martins.'
He did not, as she'd assumed, come from London. His father was a manufacturer of instruments for motor cars and aeroplanes, and they lived a couple of roads away, near the Park. He'd been at Cambridge with Gordon MacLean.
'And I introduced him to Stella last year, at Henley Regatta,' he explained. 'You're at school with Daphne?'
'Yes,' Kate said briefly, not wanting to admit she was a scholarship girl.
'Sweet sixteen and never been kissed?'
Kate blushed. She wasn't used to parrying these sorts of remarks. There was plenty of teasing between the girls and boys who played tennis together, but nothing like this.
'I'm not sixteen yet,' she said hurriedly, and he grinned down at her, his eyebrows raised.
'You surprise me. I'd have thought you were seventeen, at least.'
He had a most attractive grin. His hair, a dark brown with a hint of red, flopped over his eyes. It was not slicked back with brilliantine as most men wore their hair, and Kate thought the unruly look was far more interesting. He had bright blue eyes, and the creases at the corners were pale in a sunburnt face, as though he spent a lot of time narrowing them against the sun.
She was relieved when he began to talk about the rally he and his friend Charles had been on that day. Kate had never ridden in a private motor car, and only occasionally on the trams and omnibuses which served Birmingham, and she listened, enthralled, to his account of the route they had taken out into the Worcestershire countryside beyond Hagley, along metalled roads and rutted cart tracks, and the final hill climb competition on the Lickey Hills.
'Perhaps you'll come with me one day,' he said. 'I'm going again next Saturday.'
Kate swiftly shook her head. 'I couldn't,' she said, regretful. It simply would not do, for her to mix with Stella's friends in this way. Coming here to Daphne's house was acceptable, but neither her parents nor Mrs Carstairs would agree to her going off alone in a motor car with a young man.
He laughed. 'You'd like to, though. Daphne could come too, if you're afraid to be alone with me.'
Kate didn't know what to say. This indication that he recognised her fears and wanted to reassure her was welcome, but it made no difference. She didn't belong in Daphne's class of society. And besides, she had no motoring clothes. The ladies she'd seen driving in motor cars were always suitably dressed, but all she had were her school skirt and blouse, a few old dresses, a white best dress and the one she now wore.
She giggled at the thought of wearing any of these, but could not explain the joke to Robert Manning.
At that moment Stella appeared and claimed his attention, saying playfully that Kate must not take up all his time, as she wanted to introduce him to her dearest friend Marjorie.
'Then I'll drive you home after the party,' he said quietly, before following Stella across the room.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Kate danced with several more men, but paid them little attention. Her mind was preoccupied by the puzzle of how she might evade Robert's offer. She instinctively didn't want to be alone with him, but more importantly she would die of embarrassment if he were to see the shabby street where she lived.
She chided herself for being a snob, but it didn't alter her feelings. The address sounded respectable enough, the houses were large and had once been occupied by merchants and manufacturers, but as most of these had moved to more salubrious houses in the suburbs, the street had declined. Many of the houses were, like the one where she lived, lodging houses, shabby and uncared for.
Kate decided that she must leave the party early, so evading Robert. When she judged the end was near, and a few people, mostly the older ones, began to leave, she slipped out of the side door and ran down the path which was used by the tradespeople making deliveries, screened from the main drive by a thick hedge. It had begun to rain heavily, and the wet leaves brushed against her bare arms, making her shiver.
Out in the road she looked about her, but no one was visible, so she ran as fast as she could for the nearest corner. She'd go back along the Harborne Road, avoiding the Park in case he saw her on his way home. Once in the next road she slowed her pace. She should be safe now.
She had reached the Harborne Road when a motor car drew up beside her.
'There's no need to run away from me,' Robert said as he opened the driver's door and stepped out. 'Don't you have a wrap or a coat? You must be cold, and you're certainly wet.'
She was, but as she had no coat apart from her school blazer she had decided it would be better to be cold than look ridiculous.
'I'm not cold,' she said.
'I don't believe you. Get in, and don't be silly.'
He sounded just like Miss MacDonald, Kate thought resentfully, but she responded to the note of authority and when he walked round to her side of the car and opened the passenger door she allowed herself to be helped into it. Robert reached into the space behind the seats for a rug and wrapped it round her.
'That should help,' he said briefly.
Kate looked at the car, fascinated by the array of instruments and the various levers. Did aeroplanes have the same confusing amount? Would she ever discover what they were for? Then she told herself not to be stupid. Despite her dreams of learning to fly, what real chance had she or any of her family of ever riding in such a vehicle, which must have cost hundreds of pounds, let alone an aeroplane? She gave a deep sigh. It was so comfortable, the leather seats smelling of newness, and the fascia polished and gleaming, the array of instruments shining as the light from the street lamps reflected in their chrome and glass.
It took a remarkably short time, and Kate was so bemused as she directed him through the maze of small streets, that when he stopped outside her house and handed her out she found herself bewitched into agreeing she would go with him for a drive on the following afternoon.
Her parents, to Kate's relief, were in bed and asleep. She didn't want to talk about the party yet. She wanted to hug to herself the memory of Robert's arms round hers as they danced, the delicious comfort of the motor car, and all the other memories of the party.
Hastily she rid herself of the dress, and climbed into bed, but in the silent darkness doubts began to trouble her. What had she done? She scolded herself heartily for having been so stupid as to let him see where she lived. He would come for her, he would realise how they lived, and he would never want to see her again.
And she admitted to herself that she did want to see him again. Surely one such treat was allowable? She knew their acquaintance could not last, they were too far apart, and she was much too young to form any serious friendship with a man several years older. But that brief ride in his motor car had fired her with ambitions to ride in one again, in daylight, perhaps, even to visit the countryside she had heard so much about, but had never seen except in pictures.
*
Daphne wanted to go to bed, but Stella flopped onto a sofa when the last of the guests had gone and clearly wanted to talk. It would look odd if she left her.
'Oh, some of those people were so utterly boring! Why on earth did you invite all those children?'
Daphne wondered that too, but she wasn't going to confess it to Stella, not when she'd made such a fuss about wanting her own friends there. 'You had plenty of your London friends,' she said.
'I know, but some of them seemed to think they had to make an effort to entertain your friends. I hope they weren't frightfully bored.'
'Robert didn't seem bored,' Daphne said, and could have bitten her tongue out when Stella laughed.
'Oh, darling, do you have a crush on him? I warn you, it'll be no good. All of my friends have tried to catch him. I did myself, once, but he's not interested. He prefers the lower classes.'
'What do you mean?' Daphne demanded. This only fuelled her fears that Robert was too taken with Kate.
'Hadn't you heard? I suppose you were too young. I'm told he had an unfortunate entanglement with some dreadful woman years older than him when he was at Cambridge, and since then he's only been interested in cars and aeroplanes. At least, that's all we hear about. No doubt he has some quite unsuitable woman tucked away somewhere.'
'I'm not interested in men,' she declared. 'I want to be a doctor.'
Daphne had not enjoyed the party as much as she'd hoped. Perhaps it had been a mistake to invite Kate, and the younger boys they played tennis with. Then she felt guilty. She knew she was jealous, for the first time in her life, of Kate. In the past she had looked after Kate, felt protective of her, as she would have done of a younger sister.
She'd known Robert, one of Norman's friends, for years, but had seen less of him recently since Norman had been away from home and Robert absorbed in his family business. Seeing him suddenly that evening, looking so unbelievably handsome in evening dress, had done something to her breathing. She'd been as jittery as an unbroken colt until he had asked her to dance, and then she'd been unable to utter more than inanities. It was no wonder he had left her and moved on to dance with more sophisticated girls.
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.
***