Kate found it impossible to concentrate on French irregular verbs the following day. Images of Robert, his car, the villages and fields and woods she had seen, kept intruding.
It had been a magical time, and she hugged the memories to her, concentrating on recalling the smallest detail. It was most unlikely she would ever again experience such a wonderful afternoon. She amended her thoughts. She would be unlikely to experience it again with Robert. That had been an impulse on his part, a generous, kindly act, but she dared not hope he would want to repeat his invitation. It had, however, shown her a new life, one she might, with luck and determination, aspire to for herself. She was unlikely ever to be able to afford a car like his, but there were, she was sure, smaller and cheaper ones available. If she worked hard, saved her wages, perhaps she could afford the cheapest car.
'Kathleen, I asked you a question. You are daydreaming.'
Mademoiselle sounded surprised, and Kate blushed. Normally she was a model pupil, and, she reminded herself, if she were to find a job and buy herself a car, even perhaps learn to fly, she needed to pass her examinations.
She forced herself to pay attention, banishing Robert to the back of her mind. She must confine those dreams to times outside school.
She needed to tell someone though, and at break she looked for Daphne in the school garden, at the bench beside the tennis court where they usually sat. They would want to talk about the party, too.
Daphne was not there, and Kate wandered round looking for her. At last she found her friend at the far end of the garden, with half a dozen girls they did not usually mix with, telling them what seemed like a long, convoluted story.
Kate hovered at the edge of the group, catching a few words. It was something to do with the party, and Daphne suddenly raised her voice.
'Lionel Summers, would you believe! He's always been such a timid soul, but he was so eager he almost fell over his own feet. Oh, Kate, there you are. Tell us what Lionel was like as a dancing partner.'
Daphne's tone was brittle, and her eyes gleamed with an expression Kate could not interpret.
She shrugged. 'He could dance,' she said quietly. 'Which was more than some of the others could. I lost count of the number of times my toes were trodden on.'
'Oh dear, poor Kate, you'll have to buy some new dancing pumps,' one of the girls said, and sniggered. 'How many fish will you have to sell to afford them?'
Before Kate could reply Daphne spoke again. 'At least you didn't have to walk home in them, did you?'
Kate looked at her in surprise. How did Daphne know that?
Daphne flushed slightly, and with a stilted laugh pushed through the group of girls and took Kate's arm. 'Come on, let's walk back. Break's nearly over.'
'Robert gave me a lift,' Kate said softly. 'How did you know?'
Daphne squeezed her arm. 'Sorry, I'm being a bitch. Lionel was hurrying after you to walk home with you, and he saw Robert stop. He was being kind, I'm sure. You didn't have a coat, Lionel said, and it was pouring with rain. I'm glad Robert was there.'
She didn't sound glad, and Kate suddenly wondered whether Daphne was jealous. The idea made her laugh. As though she, a scholarship girl whose parents were market traders, could hope to compare with the wealthy Daphne.
'What's so funny?'
Kate grinned at her friend. 'You! As if Robert would look twice at me! I'm sure he forgot me as soon as I got out of the car. But why did he call hmself crazy Bob?'
'Oh, because he does mad things in cars and aeroplanes. Races, rallies, hill climbs, that sort of thing.'
'I see.' She had been going to tell Daphne about the ride on Sunday, but decided it would be better to keep quiet. Instead she told her about Maggie and the dead baby, and Daphne was all sympathy.
'Poor Maggie. She really ought to have stopped coming to clean for us months ago, but she said she needed the money. Mother gave her the lightest work she could.'
'Your mother's been very good to both of us. I do wish Sam could get a proper job, but he doesn't seem able to stick at anything for more than a few weeks.'
'I never could see why Maggie married him. Whenever I've seen him, when he comes sometimes to meet her from work, he looks shifty.'
'I think she was lonely, after her first husband died, and there were not all that many young men around, so many had been killed in the war.'
Daphne snorted. 'I'd rather stay single than marry someone in desperation,' she said.
'I'm going to see her as soon as school finishes.'
'Then please give her my best wishes. I know Mother will be pleased to see her back, but tell her not to come until she is feeling well again.'
She must have imagined Daphne's slight lack of warmth, Kate thought as she walked to Maggie's lodgings later that afternoon. She'd been her normal self for the rest of the day.
Maggie was alone in their rooms, and Kate assumed Sam had taken the children out to allow her a bit of peace and quiet. She was lying in bed, one thin blanket drawn up over her, looking pale and exhausted, but she smiled at Kate and tried to sit up.
Kate pushed the thin pillows behind her. 'Can I get you a cup of tea? Something to eat? Where's Sam?'
'I told him that if he didn't get them squalling brats out from here I'd clobber him as soon as I could get up,' Maggie said, grinning. 'I'd love a cuppa, Kate. Ma come and give me and the kids some dinner, or we'd have gone hungry.'
Kate went into the other room, stoked up the fire which had almost gone out, and made some tea. Maggie drank it gratefully, and then looked sadly at Kate.
'It were another lad,' she said softly.
'I know, Maggie, and I'm so sorry!'
'Ma said it were fer the best, we've got so many already, but it still hurts ter lose one. It don't get better.'
Kate recalled her puzzlement when her father had mentioned Maggie's children. This seemed to confirm that she'd lost another baby long ago, but now was not the time to ask. She had to let Maggie mention it, if at all. Perhaps she tried to forget most of the time.
'Mrs Carstairs and Daphne send their best wishes, and Daphne said you were not to try and go back until you were really fit.'
Maggie smiled ruefully. 'If only I could be a lady of leisure! We needs the money. Sam only gets the odd shilling fer jobs he picks up round the market, but he's promised he'll look fer summat steady now. Then, mebbee, we could move somewhere better. I've wondered whether we'd be able ter get one of the new council houses they're building. They say they're ever so nice, have gardens where yer can grow veggies. That'd be better than waiting fer Saturday night when they sell the stale uns cheap! I've forgot what a nice fresh carrot tastes like!' She smiled reminiscently. 'When I were a kid, afore the war, we used ter be able to buy fresh veggies. Still, yer meks yer bed!'
'I'm sure things will get better soon,' Kate said, uncomfortably aware of Sam's failings. If he didn't change, her poor sister was doomed to a life of struggle and poverty.
She recalled her dreams earlier that day, of being able to afford a car of her own, and knew that it had been unrealistic. When she did earn money, she would have to help Maggie and her parents. She could not be selfish and keep it all for herself. Somehow, though, she would find a way of travelling into the countryside. She could surely afford a few pence to ride on the trams, which went out of the city in several directions. When they'd built the new aerodrome at Elmdon she could go there and watch the aeroplanes. She might even see Amy Johnson one day. No more would she limit her world to the centre of Birmingham.
*
Robert found that Monday was a day of intense frustration, and not all of it was due to the problems in the factory. They were serious enough, as someone had set the machines wrongly and a good deal of sheet metal had been wasted by making the casings for the instruments smaller than they should have been. His father was ill again, and he was in charge. By the time he'd sorted that out, and other more minor problems, he wanted nothing better than to drive out into the country again, with Kate for company.
It would not do. She was too young, just a schoolgirl, for heaven's sake. It would be wrong of him to pay her any more attention.
Irritably he settled down to the paperwork he hadn't yet had time for, but Kate's face stayed insistently before his mind. At last he threw down his pen and picked up the telephone. He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited to be connected, half regretting the impulse. He had almost decided to stop the call when he was told he was connected.
'Robert! Why, how delightful! You haven't rung for ages!'
Two weeks, he thought, and he wished he had not succumbed to the temptation to ring now. But he had, and perhaps he could banish Kate's image with someone else.
'I've been busy, Gladys. But are you doing anything tonight? If not, I thought we might go and try that new place on the Warwick Road. We could dine and dance there.'
He winced and held the receiver away from his ear slightly as Gladys screamed a delighted acceptance.
'Good, then I'll come for you at seven.'
He broke the connection and stared at the papers on his desk. They could wait. He would concentrate on ridding himself of thoughts of Kate, and Gladys, with her effervescent delight in everything, would help.
The new roadhouse was popular with the young people from the city and the towns around. The food was only passable, but the music was good. Both he and Gladys knew several of the people there, and soon they were included in a large group. Robert danced with each girl in turn, but he could not resist comparing them with Kate, always to their disadvantage.
What was it about the child which had bewitched him? He pondered over the question as he drove Gladys home, and decided it was not just her attractive, gamine looks. He knew many more beautiful girls. It was her shyness, her eager appreciation of things he took for granted, such as his car and the countryside. And possibly it was pity for her, constrained to a life of poverty and deprivation. He had not been fooled by her lack of a coat on a rainy night, and her plain clothes for a drive into the country. And he'd seen where she lived.
'I said, will you come in?' Gladys said, her voice rather tart.
'I'm sorry,' Robert apologised. He realised that he had driven back to her house without recalling a single bit of the journey. He got out and went round to open the door for her. 'I'd better not, thank you. There are so many problems at work I need an early night so that I can go in and sort them out first thing tomorrow.'
Gladys clambered out of the car and shook out her dress. 'There's no need to make excuses. You've been a wet blanket all evening. And why you need to work at your precious factory I don't know! Your father has a good manager.' She turned away and crossed the pavement to the small garden in front of the house. 'Goodbye, Robert, and thank you for a scintillating evening!'
Robert waited until she had let herself in, and then drove home. He was frowning. As a distraction from thoughts of Kate that had been a complete failure. Perhaps, in time, if he were strong enough to stay away from her, he would recover from this crazy obsession.
*
Kate didn't leave Maggie until Sam came home, at almost ten o'clock, trailing five exhausted children and reeking of beer. Sam sat on the bed beside Maggie and, his speech rather slurred, asked her if she'd had a good rest.
'Did Kate get yer some supper?' he asked.
Maggie nodded, but she didn't tell him that Kate had been out shopping, using her own few coppers, to buy food, since there was nothing in the house but half a rather stale loaf.
Kate helped undress the two smallest girls while the others, two boys and the oldest, Jeannie, almost ten, got themselves ready for bed by taking off their outer clothing and diving for the thin mattress lying in the corner of the bedroom.
'Have you had supper?' Kate asked quietly.
'Me Dad bought us all screws of chips to eat while he was in the pub,' Jeannie said. 'They was nice, but he dain't let us 'ave any fish, only the batter he left.'
Kate cast a look of dislike towards Sam. Why did Maggie put up with him? He didn't try to support his family, and now it seemed he'd taken all the money they had, which her parents had probably left for Maggie, and wasted it on beer. There was probably none left for food the following day. But she had no more money herself, there was nothing she could do.
*
At home she found Hattie and Alf waiting up in the kitchen. She'd expected them to be in bed by this time, for they had to rise early.
'Where've you bin?' her father demanded, and she stared at his belligerent tone. 'It's gone ten.'
'I've been helping Maggie,' she replied. 'Sam was out with the children, there was no one else to look after her. He's only just got home, and Dad, he'd been drinking. Where did he get the money?'
'Is that true?' Alf demanded, and Hattie gave a scornful laugh.
'Don't tell us such tarradiddles, me gel! Yer've bin out with that fancy man of yourn! In his posh big motor!'
'I haven't!' Kate gasped.
How had they found out about Robert? And why did they think she'd been out with him this evening? When she'd arrived home the previous day they'd still been at Maggie's, and she had gone straight to bed. There had been no time to tell them this morning, they'd been out early for the market. Kate thought a little guiltily that she had, for a while, wondered whether she would tell them. Then she'd thrust the temptation away from her. She had nothing to be ashamed of.
'Don't tell lies,' Alf said, more furious than she'd ever seen her placid father. 'Mrs Whitehouse saw yer comin' 'ome in a motor on Sat'day, an' yesterday yer went out in it, bold as brass. Well, I'm not 'avin' it! Yer'll go same way as Maggie!'
'I don't understand!' Kate protested. 'It was one of Daphne's friends, he gave me a lift home from the party because it was raining and I didn't have a coat. And what harm was there in going for a drive yesterday afternoon? I've never been in the country before!'
'Lies, all lies,' Hattie said, and before Kate could avoid her she slapped her, twice, on each cheek. Kate slipped as she stepped back in astonishment, and fell against the corner of the table, banging her already smarting cheek on the corner.
'It's not lies!' she managed, struggling not to weep from the pain and the shock of this attack. Her mother had often slapped her before, but not like this. A slap on the legs, or a swift but mild cuff round the ears was all that had previously been meted out to her when she was in trouble.
'Alf, get yer belt off. She needs 'er hide tanning till 'er can't sit down fer a week!'
To Kate's appalled horror, her father, who had never before laid a hand on her in anger, began to unbuckle his heavy leather belt.
'No! I've done nothing wrong!' She felt sick and dizzy with the pain in her face, and could feel one eye beginning to close.
She backed away, but Hattie sprang after her, and with a strength Kate could hardly believe caught hold of her hands and dragged her forward, throwing her down across her father's knees.
'Belt her good and proper!' Hattie said, her words slurred as they emerged through gritted teeth. 'I'm stopping this afore it gets outta hand.'
Kate struggled, but her mother was holding her hands in a fierce grip, and she was sprawled across her father's knees, unable to get upright. Then she heard the swish of the leather belt through the air, and it landed with searing pain on her buttocks.
'Go on! Let 'er know who's boss!'
The belt came down once, twice, three times more on her back, and Kate was nearly fainting from the excruciating pain. Then her mother released her grip and Kate slithered to the floor, too shocked and hurt to move away.
'Now get ter bed, and termorrer yer can find yerself a job. I'm fed up with working me guts out ter keep yer in idleness, and me and yer Pa's too old fer more trouble!'
*
Kate spent a sleepless night. She had been able to slip off her skirt and blouse, with a confused feeling that she would need to keep them tidy for school tomorrow, but she left on her underclothes and crawled under the blanket. Her back hurt too much for her to lie on that, and one side of her face was too sore for her to put it on the pillow. Besides, she was too bewildered by the attitude of her parents to be able to relax. What had they meant by those references to Maggie? How could her going for a ride in a motor car possibly add to the problems Maggie had? Why had they been so furious just because she'd ridden in a motor car?
Kate had realised for a long time that her mother didn't love her. Whatever she did to try and please, Hattie was never satisfied. She always found fault, and Kate had assumed it was mostly a form of jealousy that she was being given chances her mother had never had. But her father had always supported her. She'd had no doubts about his love. Why had he refused to believe her, refused to listen, and beaten her so violently?
A tear squeezed itself painfully from under her swollen eyelids. Every time she moved she could feel the broken skin on her back protest. The cuts had bled and her vest and knickers had stuck to her, making any movement, however slight, excruciating. Yet she could not relax, could not keep still, for every position she tried was painful.
She could hear them muttering in the big bed, but only the occasional word penetrated her haze of misery and pain. Somehow Maggie was involved, and Hattie several times raised her voice when she talked of shame. Finally, at dawn, Kate fell asleep only to be woken forcibly as her mother dragged off the blanket.
Hattie stood looking down at her. 'Right, me gal, yer'll get yer lazy body shifted, and be outta 'ere and lookin' fer a job. If yer don't have one be the time we gets home, the worse it'll be fer you.'
Kate groaned, but silently. She felt dreadful, one eye was completely closed, her back felt as though it was on fire, and if she moved she was sure she would be sick.
Fortunately Hattie and Alf soon left, and she managed to drag herself off the bed and wash her face in cold water. Painfully, inch by inch, she peeled off her vest and knickers and washed them, trying to rub out the dried blood. She had opened up at least one of the cuts and it was bleeding again, but she could not reach her back to wash it. How could she possibly hope to find a respectable job looking as though she'd been in a pub brawl?
If she had to leave school and find a job she would have wanted to try dress shops, or ladies' outfitters, milliners, any of the stores which sold any sorts of clothing. That was out of the question. She would do better, looking as she did, to appeal to the people she knew in the market.
First she tried Bella, but the old woman shook her head regretfully.
'Eh, lass, I'd love ter gi' yer a job wi' me,' Bella said. 'But times is 'ard, folk don't want ter spend cash on replacin' brooms when they ain't got enough fer food. But I'll ask around, there might be summat 'ere. In fact, I think Mick the butcher might want 'elp terday.'
To Kate's delight, when she went over to Mick's stall, he greeted her with nods of approval.
'Aye, me son's not 'ere, got a broken arm, daft 'aporth. Yer don't look so good yerself.'
'I fell over, down some steps,' Kate said hurriedly.
'Well, in my trade it don't matter what yer looks like. Tell yer what, yer can't cut the meat up, but yer could take the money if I sings out ter yer 'ow much, an' give right change?'
'Yes, of course,' Kate said. If she did well there might be work for some days to come, until the son's arm was better. She was desperate for any sort of job, to placate her mother.
It was tiring, and by the end of the afternoon Kate was sick of the smell of raw meat. But it was a job, and Mick would pay her today, she could perhaps give some of what she earned to Maggie. Then she knew that would be impossible. Hattie would insist on taking every penny.
The atmosphere at home was unbearably tense. Hattie greeted the news of where she was working with a sniff, but Alf looked rather subdued, and once Kate caught him giving her a rather guilty look when she winced on getting out of her chair.
'It were fer yer own good, lass,' he said quietly, and those were almost the only words spoken between them.
Kate worked for two more weeks on the meat stall, hating every minute. She had to find something else. When she had an hour free at dinner time she tramped round seeking something more congenial.
She tried dress shops first, always hoping she could get her preferred work, but when she had to confess she had no testimonials, and could not obtain one from her school because she had left in the middle of term, they lost interest.
'If you went to that posh school you'll not settle to shop work,' one shopkeeper told her bluntly. 'You'll be off, wanting something better, by the time I've trained you. Besides, you don't look fit for a good shop like mine, if those are the best clothes you have and with your face so puffed up.'
She visited various agencies who supplied servants, but was told she was too old to start where no experience was required, and without experience or references she would not be suitable.
There were factories, but few jobs for women. 'There's plenty of girls who've got experience looking for jobs,' they told her.
Bella was the only sympathetic person she could talk to in all that time. She had no spare moments for visiting Maggie, as Hattie kept her busy with cooking and cleaning when she was not at work or seeking jobs. But Bella listened to her with sympathy, never asking why she had so suddenly left school, or walked so stiffly, or had a black eye.
'Stick it out, lass, and summat'll turn up.'
She thought something had when Walter said he'd ask his boss. 'Arthur left, so we'm one short,' he said, beaming at her. 'It would be right grand if yer could work with us. And he'd pay more than mean old Mick.'
Walter's boss, however, thought differently.
'Why the hell should I want a slip of a girl working fer me?' he demanded, and cuffed Walter soundly round the head when he took Kate along and suggested it.
With a rueful smile Kate thanked Walter for the idea, and went back to Mick's stall. Late on the second Saturday evening, as it grew near to the time the market closed, Mick began to reduce his prices, calling out the bargains. The poorer housewives, who had been waiting for this, surged forward and Kate was kept busy as Mick held up joints, hanks of sausages, or a few chops, calling out prices. She barely noticed the customers, counting out their change mechanically, until, holding out her hand for the next customer's coins, she found her hand grabbed hard and she was yanked forward across the trestles at the front of the stall.
Kate let out a squeak of alarm, and then found herself pushed to the ground, rolling in the sawdust and frantically scrabbling to get out of the way of dozens of feet.
Mick was yelling, several women were screaming, and Kate felt a boot connect with her stomach, making her double up with pain. When she got her breath back she found that the trestle had overturned, the remainder of Mick's wares were on the ground, and he was shouting furiously at her.
'What happened?' she asked, struggling to get up.
'Yer daft bitch,' Mick was yelling at her. 'Couldn't yer keep yer eyes on cashbox?'
'The cashbox?' Kate was bewildered. 'I was pulled over.'
'And he took cashbox,' Mick shouted. 'That's all me takings fer the day.'
Kate was aghast. 'You mean they – he – whoever, planned it?'
'Course he planned it! Knew a green 'un when he saw yer, dain't 'e?'
'I'm sorry! I didn't know!'
'Sorry's no good ter me. Well, no cash, no wages. Yer'd best tek yerself off before I gets really mad at yer!'
Kate stared at him, and realised he meant it. She'd worked hard all week, and she wasn't going to get paid. It hadn't been her fault, she felt resentful, but there was nothing she could do. What would her mother say? Her shoulders sagged as she turned and went home. Could life get any worse?
*
Daphne glanced sideways at Robert. She'd been flattered when he had appeared at the house and asked if she cared to come for a ride in his new car, a very elegant-looking Lagonda. Though she had known him for years, he had only recently come back to Birmingham to work in his father's business, and this was the first time he'd asked her out.
At the party, she'd seen how attracted he was to Kate. When the party was breaking up he'd come searching for her, saying he'd offered her a lift home, and Daphne had fully expected to hear from Kate at school the following Monday that she had indeed been taken home in his car. So why had he now sought her out?
Kate had mysteriously vanished. She had not come back to school after Monday, and it seemed that Miss MacDonald had heard nothing to explain it. Was Kate ill? Daphne, though she had only once or twice been to Kate's home, went round there on several occasions, but there was never anyone at home. Maggie had not yet returned to work for her mother, so she couldn't ask her either.
The thought kept haunting her, did Robert know? Surely Kate's disappearance could have nothing to do with him?
They'd been driving for half an hour, and Robert had not spoken more than a few words. He'd commented on the weather, the heavy storm they'd had a few days ago, and how pleasant the party had been. That was all. And he hadn't sounded very enthusiastic when he'd mentioned the party, she thought, with wry amusement. What had happened between him and Kate? She longed to ask, but the grim expression on his face deterred her.
'How old are you?' he suddenly shot at her, as though the words had been dragged from him.
'Almost seventeen,' Daphne said defensively. Did he think she was too young to be taken out alone by a young man? Was that the reason for his silence? Had he had second thoughts about inviting her?
'But you're in the same form as your friend, Kate, and she's not sixteen,' he said accusingly.
Daphne glanced at him. Was this the problem? Kate was too young for him, and he was feeling bitter?
'I had to have a year off when I was small. I was very ill. So I'm actually a year behind everyone else my age. Apart from the really stupid ones who had to repeat a year because they couldn't keep up with the others,' she explained carefully.
'I see. She seemed older. Do you see much of her? Visit her at home?'
'Well, no,' Daphne replied, even more puzzled. 'Her mother has to work, you see, and it's always been easier for Kate to come and visit me.'
'Ha!' was Robert's only response, and he relapsed into a morose silence. A few minutes later Daphne ventured a remark about the village they were driving through, and Robert seemed to shrug off his preoccupation. He began to tell Daphne about some of the parties he'd been to in London, and she responded by talking about the following year when she was going to Paris to a finishing school there.
'I'd much rather apply to medical school after matric,' she said, sighing, 'but they've promised me that if I am still of the same mind after Paris I can try. It's such a waste of time, and I won't change my mind.'
'I'm often in Paris,' he said. 'Let me know when you are there, and perhaps your school will allow me to visit you.'
Daphne's spirits lifted suddenly, until she realised that it would be a year before she went to Paris. Did he not mean to see her before then? But he probably thought she was too young too. Her spirits revived. She felt a mixture of delight and guilt. She'd admitted to herself that she'd been jealous of Kate when Robert had seemed so attracted to her. Now, clearly, something had happened, something she herself had not been involved with, she reminded herself sternly, so she need no longer feel guilty. She could feel sorry for Kate, she supposed, but perhaps there was no need. Perhaps Kate had not wanted Robert's interest. She was still very young. Then Daphne grinned. She herself sounded like a middle-aged matron.
She did feel curious, though, but didn't dare risk ruining Robert's better mood by asking. In any case, he'd probably tell her it was none of her business, and she knew that.
They stopped for tea and cream cakes in a small village, and then Robert drove her home. His earlier preoccupation returned as they reached the Edgbaston streets, and he said nothing until Daphne invited him in the house.
He sat and made polite conversation with the family for a few minutes, and then rose to go.
'I'll see you out, my boy,' Mr Carstairs said, and they left the room. It was a good half an hour later before her father came back, looking serious.
'He wasn't asking for Daphne's hand, was he?' Stella asked, laughing, and her father gave her a distracted look.
'No. No, of course not! She's far too young. It was a matter of business, a problem he has at work, nothing you need concern yourself about.'
Daphne glared at Stella, and stood up abruptly. 'I've homework to do,' she announced, and stalked from the room, hoping her blushes had not been noticed. Stella could be so ridiculous at times. Would Robert ask her out again? Would he remember in Paris, or would she see him before then? She gave a shiver of anticipation. Maybe her mother and Stella were right, work as a doctor was not suitable for a woman. But it was far too early to think about that.
*
Kate found odd jobs around the market, a day here, a week somewhere else, but there was nothing better. Hattie remained grim-faced, and Alf was unusually subdued. All Kate's spare time was spent looking for a better job, and she sat for hours in the library perusing the newspaper advertisements. Why, when there seemed to be jobs available, did she not manage to get one?
It was, she remembered, only two weeks before the end of the school term when she encountered Daphne outside the library one Saturday lunchtime. Daphne fell on her with glee.
'Kate, what on earth has been happening? Where have you been? I've been so worried! And what's that scar under your eye? Have you had an accident?'
Kate shook her head. 'Not really,' she answered quickly, her hand going up in a defensive gesture to cover the scar which had been left from her fall against the edge of the table. 'I had a fall, but I'm OK. I had to leave, to get a job. But it's not so easy.'
'Come and have a cup of tea.'
Daphne dragged her, protesting, into a nearby tea rooms and ordered tea and cakes.
'I mustn't stay long, I'm working, I came up here in my dinner break, and I must get back soon.'
'You can spare ten minutes to tell me why you never got in touch. Miss Mac is furious, going on about ingratitude, and she's trying to make Mother persuade the Governors not to allow any more scholarship girls.'
'Oh no!' Kate was horrified. Had her actions had this effect, destroyed the chances of other poor girls?
'Don't worry, Mama won't be bullied by such as Mac. She's as worried about you as I am. And Maggie. She's apparently still too ill to come back to work.'
Kate glanced at her but did not comment. She had not been to see Maggie again, her mother having forbidden it on pain of a further beating, and her sister was not mentioned at home. Kate had had no idea she was still unable to work, and felt guilty again.
'What sort of jobs?' Daphne asked.
Kate grimaced. 'I can't get work in a good shop, I don't look smart enough, and I can't get a reference from school, can I? Mac never liked me, and she'll feel I let the school down by leaving so suddenly, not even telling her why.' She touched her cheeks, recalling the pain of that beating, but most of all her mother's openly-expressed dislike. Why did Hattie hate her so much? Was it just that she had not wanted another child, so late in life, and so long after the others? Or was it jealousy that she was getting a good education, something Hattie had never had an opportunity to have?
'My mother would give you one.'
Kate's eyes brightened. 'Would she? But how?'
'She's a Governor, and she got you into the school. She knows why you left, and she won't hold it against you. I'll meet you here again next Saturday, and bring it.'
*
Robert stopped the car and looked up at the house. He had no idea which rooms Kate and her parents rented. It was Sunday afternoon, a time they were likely to be at home. He'd had the utmost difficulty in waiting this long. It had been on Tuesday when he had finally admitted to himself that he had to see her again, and the rest of the week had seemed endless.
Would she be pleased to see him? Luckily the day was fine, and he might be able to tempt her out for a drive. She would want to see the new Lagonda.
He'd thought no more about what would happen, apart from recognising that she was so young, ten years younger than he was, and he must not treat her with anything more than simple friendliness. Not yet. But he'd never felt such an instant attraction to a girl, and he could not bear the idea that they might lose touch. The occasional outing, he persuaded himself, would suffice. They could get to know one another slowly, and by the time she was old enough for more, she would trust him, and he hoped, like him sufficiently to respond.
He got out of the motor car and approached the door. As he began to climb up the steps the door opened, and a wizened old man came out.
'What do you want?' he demanded rudely.
'Which are the Martins' rooms?' Robert asked.
'First floor.'
With that the old man hobbled down the steps and set off up the road. Robert looked after him, amused. He was not one to waste words. Well, it had been made easier for him. He glanced round at the whitewashed walls and the scuffed linoleum on the floor. The landlord clearly didn't waste his money providing comforts for his tenants. The stairs were bare wood, worn smooth, the centres hollowed out from the many feet which had used them over the decades.
Robert felt a great urge to remove Kate from this decrepit house. He knew perfectly well that it was much better than some of the dreadful habitations the City Council were in the process of clearing, the rat-infested back-to-back houses in stinking, foetid courts, but his Kate was too fine, too delicate, to endure even such slightly more salubrious conditions as these.
Slowly he mounted the first flight and came to a door at the top, where the paint was peeling, and a slight gap showed where the door sagged on the hinges.
He knocked firmly. Inside was silence, and he raised his hand to knock again. It would be too disappointing, after all his imaginings of the past week, if there was no one at home, and he could not see his Kate.
Then he heard a slight noise, and shuffling feet. The door was flung open and a large man, unshaven, his shirt undone, ragged braces and a hank of rope holding up his trousers, a pipe dangling from his mouth, glared out at him.
'What do yer want? Can't folk as work all week 'ave a bit o' peace and quiet on a Sunday?'
'Mr Martins?' Was this Kate's father? How on earth could a man like this have produced a girl like Kate?
'So? Who wants ter know?'
Robert breathed in deeply. He had a sudden urge to push this man aside, sweep his Kate into his arms and carry her away. He suppressed a smile at these fantasies.
'My name is Robert Manning. I met Kate at the Carstairs' house, and I wondered if she would like to come for a short drive with me.'
Alf Martin's face was suddenly suffused with blood, and he took a step forward, raising his fists threateningly.
'So you'm the swell she went out with before, are yer?'
Robert frowned. What was the man so furious about? Surely he couldn't object to Kate's going for a ride in his motor car? But she was very young. Maybe he was just being protective.
'I took her out, yes, for a perfectly innocent drive in the country,' Robert began, but Alf stepped forward and he was forced to give way as the older man loomed up at him. Robert was as tall as Alf, but Alf was far heavier, and years of working in the market had given him powerful, muscular arms.
'Alf, what's going on?' a woman's voice interrupted, and a woman Robert assumed was Kate's mother appeared behind Alf. She was much smaller, her hair was streaked with grey, and pulled back into a scrawny bun. She was drying her hands on a scrap of towelling.
Behind her Robert caught sight of Kate, peering anxiously over her shoulder, her eyes wide with terror.
Alf ignored his wife. 'Innocent?' he was roaring. 'I'll believe that when hell freezes! You'm all the same, you nobs! After what you can get, sniffing round a gal's skirts! Well, yer can just hop it, Mr High an' Mighty! My Kate's not one of yer fancy pieces, ter be used and then thrown on the scrap heap! She's a good 'un, my Kate, and she'll stay that way!'
'Mr Martins, I assure you,' Robert began, but Alf didn't let him finish. He stepped forward and swung one of his huge fists which, if it had connected, would have broken Robert's jaw.
Robert danced backwards, putting up his own fists. He had boxed at school, and been useful with his fists, but Alf, though twice his age, was twice as heavy, and wild with fury. Robert hoped his own science would be enough to counter the bull-like tactics of this man who seemed determined not to listen to reason.
The landing was small, and Alf rushed in, giving Robert little room for manoeuvre. He was vaguely aware of a woman screaming, but whether it was in terror or to urge Alf on he didn't have time to wonder. He was fully occupied with keeping out of the way of Alf's huge fists.
'Dad! Don't!'
It was Kate's voice, and Robert glanced across at the doorway. She was trying to get past her mother, who was clinging to her, barring the way.
'Let be, yer silly wench! Let yer Pa see 'im off.'
Robert forgot Alf for a crucial moment, and saw the wild swing out of the corner of his eye. He ducked, but not fast enough, and the glancing blow on the temple felled him. His head hit the wall as he fell, and he saw stars, but at the back of his mind knew he had to pull himself together and ignore the pain.
He had no chance. Before he could scramble to his feet he found the woman throwing herself across his legs. She was screeching something he couldn't understand, and he could hear Kate sobbing and pleading with them not to hurt him. Before he knew it Alf had him in a vice-like grip, pinning his arms to his side.
'Tie 'is feet tergether, Hattie,' Alf panted, and Robert, though he kicked and struggled, deciding that he needn't worry about chivalry with such a virago attacking him, was no match for them.
Soon his feet were tied with the rope from round Alf's waist, and his hands with what felt like a greasy rag. He was dizzy from the blows to the head, and powerless to resist when Alf, with a grunt, heaved him over his shoulder.
For a moment Robert feared that Alf meant to toss him down the stairs, but the man had at least some regard for his own skin. He wouldn't want to risk the gallows by murdering Robert. Instead he carried him down the stairs and his wife hurried to open the front door for him.
Alf paused on the top of the steps, and then chuckled.
'That yer posh motor?' he asked, and without waiting for a reply crossed the pavement and dumped Robert unceremoniously into the passenger seat. 'By the time yer gets yer hands loose, yer'll be feeling fit ter drive,' he said. 'When yer does, get out of here, and don't come back sniffing round my gal, or next time yer'll not get away with bruises.'
***