Kate peered from the front room window. It was the bedroom, and she had been banished there after protesting to Alf and Hattie about their treatment of Robert.
'He'll have you charged!' she cried, worry for both Alf and Robert causing tears to stream down her cheeks.
'Let him!' Alf said, hands still clenched. 'I'm not having men like him messing wi' my gals! They'm after one thing, and they'll not get it from you!'
'If they ain't already had it,' Hattie sneered. 'Did yer posh school ever warn yer about men?'
'You've hurt him! You might have killed him!'
'Well, I ain't, he was still breathing, more's the pity. But next time he comes round here I will kill him, and so yer can tell him!'
'How can I tell him if I don't see him?' Kate demanded.
'Get in bedroom before I give yer another leathering! I'll not be spoke to like that by a flipping kid!'
Wondering what had made her normally placid father become so violent, first to her, now to Robert, Kate escaped. At least from here she could watch to see how Robert was.
He was already trying to loosen his bonds, she was thankful to see. He got his hands free and she winced when she saw him rub the side of his head where Alf's blow had landed. Then he bent to untie the rope round his ankles, and stepped from the car. As he looked towards the house Kate's stomach clenched with fear. Surely he didn't mean to come in again and challenge her father? Then she relaxed, as with a contemptuous glance towards the door Robert dropped the rope on the pavement and flung the rag which had secured his hands on top. He didn't look up, just turned away and went to get behind the wheel. A minute later and he had gone.
She would never see him again. He wouldn't want to know her. And with her father in this unpredictable mood how safe was she from his fists? She had to find a job, with a wage to satisfy them. Soon, she knew, she would try to leave home, but for the moment all she could do was try to earn money and try to placate them. It would perhaps be easier if Mrs Carstairs gave her a reference as Daphne had promised. When things had quietened down she could make plans for her future, but for the moment she was too exhausted and distressed to think properly.
Having come to this decision, Kate fell into an uneasy state of half-sleep. She woke with a start, thinking she had heard music, and after a while realised she had been dreaming, reliving the party.
She would never see Robert Manning again. She thought of how they had danced together, their steps fitting as though they had practised for hours. She'd never see him again, would probably never again ride in any motor car, let alone his. He'd been pleasant, so kind. She had been aware that some of the other girls at the party had envied her, wanted his attention for themselves. Now, she supposed wearily, they would have it.
*
'So what are you going to do about it?'
Robert sipped at the brandy Mr Carstairs had given him. 'I don't want to report the attack to the police. That would be worse for Kate than doing nothing, probably.'
'But with such a violent man, is she safe?'
'I don't know.' He rubbed the back of his head, where there was still a dull ache twenty-four hours afterwards. 'From the few things she said I had the impression her mother was a difficult woman, but she spoke affectionately of her father. Maybe it was just a loving father's fear that I was trying to take advantage.'
'She's a year younger than Daphne,' Mr Carstairs said, and Robert nodded.
'I know that, and all I wanted to do was take her out into the country. Do you realise she had never before been near a field, seen cows and sheep in them, or wild flowers growing?'
Mr Carstairs sighed. 'I'm afraid many of our slum-dwellers have never moved more than a few hundred yards from their homes. The City Council are doing what they can by building new homes out in the suburbs. But it all takes time.'
'You know many of the Corporation. I'm sure you know the people who run the markets. Mr Martins has a stall there. Is there any way he could be watched? I'm afraid for Kate.'
'You won't try to see her again? It wouldn't be wise.'
'No, I've realised that, and for her sake I must keep my distance. But I don't want to feel she is unprotected. I hoped you and Mrs Carstairs might know of a way she could be helped.'
'She left school without any explanation. It would be difficult for my wife to interfere.'
'There must be some explanation. Could Mrs Carstairs perhaps find out?'
'Are you suggesting she faces the fists of Mr Martins?'
'No, of course not! But has the school written to discover why she left?'
'I understand they have, and there was no reply.'
Robert pushed his hand through his hair. 'What can I do?' he appealed to the older man.
'To be frank, my boy, there is nothing you can do unless,' he paused and gave a brief laugh, 'unless you are prepared to abduct her and hide her from the authorities.'
Robert shook his head. 'Much as I feel tempted to do just that I know I have no right. I have no cause unless I involve the police, but I feel so helpless, and if she should come to more harm I'd never forgive myself.'
'She won't. Look, Robert, I've got young daughters too, and I think that in Mr Martin's place, if I had any suspicion that you were trying to seduce his daughter – ' he held up his hand as Robert protested. 'Let me finish. I believe that was never your intention, but he doesn't know that, and in his place I might have been tempted to hit you too. I'll try to discover what I can, but I can't interfere unless your Kate really seems to be in danger.'
It wasn't what Robert wanted, but he knew there was nothing practical either he or Mr Carstairs could do. He had to leave it, and with a brief smile he thanked his host, declined further brandy, and took himself back to his flat to spend the rest of the night brooding. A few years ago he might have been tempted to abduct Kate, but now, he hoped, he had more sense. He would have to wait and hope he could see her again away from her home.
*
On Monday a letter arrived for Kate.
This was an unheard-of event. Old Mrs Bunson on the ground floor brought it up when Kate, who had been working for Bella that day, arrived home.
'From an admirer, is it, gel?' Mrs Bunson asked, and chuckled and winked at Kate.
'What's that?'
Hattie appeared at the door behind Kate, saw the letter, and snatched it from her hand.
'Mum, it's for me!' Kate protested, but Hattie sniffed, nodded to Mrs Bunson and shut the door in her face.
'Yer don't get no letters from no young men,' she said curtly, and made to throw it in the fire.
'It's about a job!' Kate said desperately, hoping that it was a reply to one of her applications.
Hattie paused, and then ripped open the envelope. 'We'll soon see.'
She laid the inner sheet down on the table, and Kate shut her eyes as she saw a grease stain which no one had wiped away that morning seep onto the paper. Hattie screwed up her eyes and peered at the sheet of paper inside, then handed it across to Alf who had just finished washing his face and hands. Without bothering to dry them he took the letter, and Kate almost danced with impatience and fear that before they had finished the letter would be unreadable.
'Boots the Chemist?' Alf said disbelievingly, and at last Kate was able to take the paper and read it for herself. 'You'm ter go for an interview on Wednesday?'
Kate nodded, her eyes shining. 'With the Territorial Manager,' she said, reading from the letter. 'I applied some time ago, and went to see them. They gave me a test, an easy one, working out percentages. For the discount they give to doctors and nurses,' she explained, seeing their incomprehension. 'Now I have a second interview, so I must have passed that. Oh, but it says one of you has to come with me.'
'I can't afford no time off,' Alf said hastily. 'Business is bad enough without tekin' time off. Yer Mom can go.'
'Me? They ain't interviewing me!' Hattie declared, hands on hips.
'Oh Mum, please! It's a very good job, if I can get it. It'll pay more than I can earn doing jobs round the market, and they have lots of shops, I could do really well with people like them.'
'They won't ask you no questions, Hattie,' Alf said, and Kate threw him a look of gratitude. She'd have preferred him to come with her, but her mother couldn't manage the stall by herself, and the interview was early, at nine. There wouldn't be enough time for Alf to set up the stall and leave Hattie in charge, not if he were to have time to wash off the fishy smells and change into his best suit.
Hattie glared at Kate, but shrugged. 'Might be interesting ter see what them big shops look like behind the posh fronts,' she admitted.
'I need a bath, and to wash my hair,' Kate said excitedly. 'My school uniform's clean, I can wear that. I'll get the bath up from the yard tomorrow.'
'There's not enough coal ter boil that many kettles, and it's too hot fer a big fire anyway,' Hattie said.
Kate wanted to protest, but she knew it would be useless. Getting the big zinc bath which all the lodgers used up from the yard behind the house, and boiling enough water to fill it, was a major undertaking, one Hattie allowed only once a month. Even then, they all had to use the same bathwater.
Nodding to her mother, Kate did what she normally did, took a small bowl full of hot water into the bedroom on Tuesday night and tried to sponge herself down with that. She recalled the time she'd had a bath in Daphne's house, after a sweaty game of tennis, and the marvel of having hot water come out of taps, and being able to sink into water which came up to her shoulders, and soak in it as long as she wanted. That, along with a car, was a dream she was beginning to think she might never achieve.
*
Mrs Carstairs shook her head. 'I'm sorry, Daphne, but I can't do that.'
'Mama, why not? You know Kate, you know why she had to leave school, it isn't her fault.'
'I know what you've told me, dear, and I would help if I could, but my position as a Governor means that I have to back up Miss MacDonald. If I wrote a reference for Kate it would be undermining her authority.'
'I don't see why,' Daphne muttered rebelliously.
Mrs Carstairs sighed. 'She said she was not satisfied with Kate's conduct. Any potential employer in, for instance, any quality shop, would be likely to contact Miss MacDonald, and if she told them different things, who would they believe?'
'You, I hope!'
'But don't you see? It would not do Kate any good to have such doubts aroused. But you say she is willing to become a maid?'
'She doesn't want to, but she's desperate, and at least then she'd be able to live away from home. She doesn't complain, but I know her mother resented her staying on at school.'
'It seems a shame, after all her advantages of education, but perhaps it's for the best in the circumstances.'
'What circumstances?'
'Oh, nothing. Something your father said.'
Daphne looked curiously at her mother, who seemed unusually flustered. 'What did he say? What do you mean?'
'Oh, that taking girls out of their own environments does not, in the end, do them a favour. They no longer fit in at home, and can't mix on equal terms with better class people,' Mrs Carstairs said slowly. 'But please don't argue with your father, Daphne, he has a great deal to concern him at the moment, dealing with Stella's wedding and settlements and so on. I will ask around to see whether any of my friends would take her. They wouldn't bother with references from school.'
Daphne retreated to the small parlour where she and Stella usually sat, and spent an hour deep in thought. Then she heard her mother going out, and made up her mind. Not everyone would contact Miss MacDonald.
She went slowly upstairs to her mother's room, and saw with relief that there was a fresh supply of the slightly scented, headed notepaper in her mother's bureau. A few sheets would not be missed. Abstracting half a dozen sheets and a couple of envelopes she stuffed them into her knickers and sauntered out to her own room.
There she was soon deep in composition, and when satisfied she copied out the reference she had composed in the best imitation she could manage of her mother's writing, signed it with a flourish, and blotted the sheet before folding it up and placing it in the envelope. On the outside she wrote, in capitals, 'To whom it might concern', and decided to make another copy just in case this one was lost or damaged.
She would help Kate, if only to make up for being jealous of her and Robert. Surely most employers would not bother to ask Miss MacDonald when they had such a glowing reference from her benefactress?
*
On Wednesday morning Kate fizzed with suppressed impatience as her mother took her time getting ready. Despite her declaration that she had no intention of being interviewed by jumped-up shop walkers, Hattie seemed uncertain what to wear, first of all putting on the clothes she wore at the market, then changing them for her Sunday best, deciding that she looked too posh for a weekday and changing back. At last, compromising with her market skirt and a clean blouse, and her Sunday hat, she was ready. On the way she dawdled, insisting that since she had to take time off work she was going to enjoy herself, and she never normally had the time to look in shop windows. The church clocks were striking the hour when they reached Boots, and Kate was hot and flustered at the thought of being late.
She needn't have fretted. There were six other girls waiting with their mothers or, in one case, a father, in the room they were shown to. The girls eyed each other surreptitiously, no doubt calculating their chances against the opposition. Two of the mothers, who clearly knew each other, were chatting loudly about their other children and the excellent jobs they had, and how Boots insisted on having young ladies serving in their shops, while everyone else waited in nervous silence.
A prim-looking woman appeared after fifteen minutes, holding a sheet of paper in her hand. She glanced at it and looked round the room. 'Miss Barclay? You're next. Through that door at the end of the passageway. Go straight in.'
She saw Kate and her mother and came across to them. 'Miss Martins? Good, you're here. And Mrs Martins, I presume. We are interviewing you in alphabetical order, so you'll be, let me see,' she consulted the list, 'number six. Miss Barclay is number two, and we take about fifteen minutes for each applicant.'
'Yer mean yer've got us here an hour before yer needed us?' Hattie said angrily. 'Yer've gotta bleeding cheek! If I'd known I wouldn't have bothered ter come! Come on, Kate, we'm not staying.'
'Mum, please!' Kate whispered, hot with embarrassment. 'Please let's stay now we're here. It's a chance of a good job for me, you can't let me down now!'
'You may do as you wish, of course,' the prim woman said, her lips curling in disdain.
'I could be earning regular money,' Kate said, blinking away the threatening tears.
'I s'pose we might as well, then,' Hattie said grudgingly. 'But I'm not sitting here, being gawped at,' she added, glaring round the room at the interested spectators. I'm going out 'til their lordships 'ave time fer us. Yer can come or stay.'
Kate sat back. 'I'll stay,' she said, her voice rough with unshed tears. How could her mother shame her so much?
'Please yersen.'
Hattie stalked off, and one of the other girls gave Kate a sympathetic look. But she could see the scornful glances of two mothers, and inside she cringed. Was it worth staying? Could she depend on her mother to return? If she didn't, might they refuse to interview her on her own?
The next hour was agony, as one girl after another was shown into the interview room. At last only Kate and one other were left, and it was almost time for her to be interviewed. Then the outer door opened, and to her immense relief Kate saw Hattie, her face set in a grim look, come in.
Before Kate could speak, thank her for coming back in time, the prim woman appeared and asked her to go along to be interviewed. Kate smiled timidly at Hattie, and took her arm to squeeze it in gratitude as they went to the end of the passageway as directed.
The room inside was vast, Kate saw, and a huge desk dominated it. Behind it a bald man wearing a very smart suit and horn-rimmed spectacles sat tapping a pile of papers with a gold fountain pen.
'Come in, Miss Martins, Mrs Martins. Sit down. Now, Miss Martins, tell me why you wish to work for Boots?'
Somehow Kate replied, and he then asked her more questions before turning to Hattie.
'How do you feel about your daughter coming to work for us, Mrs Martins?'
Hattie shrugged. 'What do I know about it? She's gotta work somewhere, ain't she? Might as well be here, where she'll be kept outta trouble.'
'Trouble?' he asked, his pen poised.
Hattie sneered at him. 'Not the sort yer think I means,' she said, 'though if she don't look out fer 'erself that might come. I meant she'll have ter work hard, an' at least she'll be able ter get hold of some proper medicines fer me husband when 'is bronchitis comes back.'
'Thank you, Mrs Martins, Miss Martins, we'll let you know soon.'
Kate didn't know how she got out of the building. Thanks to her mother, she stood no chance of working here. She glanced at Hattie, but she seemed oblivious of the harm she'd done, and wouldn't understand. Kate bit back her reproaches. They would do no good. She'd have to depend on the reference Daphne was obtaining from her mother.
*
As they walked back home Hattie looked at Kate. 'Yer won't get that job, snooty lot! So yer'd better spend the rest of the day looking fer summat else. It's too late to get odd jobs in the market, but I'd better help yer dad.'
Kate felt rebellious, but managed to stay silent. If she'd lost this job, and she had no doubt she had, it was because Mum had been so difficult. Why did she always have to spoil things? Well, she would, just for once, spend her time in the way she wanted. She'd go and see Maggie. Her sister had always been kind to her, comforting her when she was a child and fell over or hurt herself. She'd been almost six when Maggie had married Sam, and then he'd lost his job that year in the General Strike, and never had a steady one since.
Maggie was sitting on a stool in front of a weak fire, nursing the youngest child, a girl of two, while the next one, aged four, played on the floor with a carved wooden doll and a few scraps of material she was pretending were clothes.
'Maggie, are you all right? You still look very pale,' Kate said, alarmed at her sister's listlessness. Normally she'd have leapt to her feet and been filling the kettle, but she just sat there, looking drained and defeated.
'I'm just so tired, can't seem to get me act together. But how are you? Dad said yer was looking fer a job. Why did you leave school?'
Kate drew up another stool and sat down beside her. 'Don't you know? It was Mum, she said I had to leave, get a job. Maggie, why does she hate me?'
Kate, who'd intended to be strong for Maggie, suddenly burst into tears and clung to her sister.
'Hush, now, love. Get down and play with your sister,' she said gently to the baby, and then Kate felt her comforting arms go round her, and Maggie hugged her tightly. Kate clung to her, and when the storm of weeping had subsided she blew her nose and muttered an apology.
'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I came to ask if you needed any help.'
'You need it, pet. I'm OK, just tired.'
'Why does she hate me?' Kate repeated, more calmly. 'I went for an interview this morning, for a good job, with Boots the Chemist, and she did all she could to make it difficult for me. She lost me that job!'
'How?'
Kate told Maggie all that had happened, and Maggie pursed her lips angrily.
'I knew it would be like this,' she said to herself, and then, more loudly, 'but there was nothing else I could have done!'
'What do you mean?'
Maggie heaved a great sigh. 'She resents you, love. She was forty when you were born, and though she insisted on looking after you, she's made you pay ever since.'
Kate tried to work this out. 'I can understand her resenting having another baby at that age, especially so long after you, but how could she help having to look after me?'
Maggie looked out of the grimy window, then squared her shoulders. 'It's time you knew the truth. I'm your mom, not her.'
Kate stared at Maggie, bemused. 'You? You're my mother? Why didn't anyone tell me, let me think – oh Maggie! Tell me, please. What happened? Why did you all have to pretend? I know your first husband died, but lots of babies are born after their fathers die.'
'Not two years afterwards,' Maggie said, and sudden comprehension filled Kate's eyes.
'I see,' she said slowly. 'You don't have to tell me,' she added awkwardly.
'I want to. I don't want you to think too badly of me.'
Kate waited, her mind in a whirl. So she was illegitimate, like her father. No, Alf wasn't her father now, was he? Or could he have been? She almost gagged at the thought. She'd heard stories about girls who were made pregnant by their own brothers or fathers, but surely her father wasn't like that? Not Alf, who'd always been so kind to her, until the past few weeks.
'Ben, my first, was only nineteen when we wed, and I was seventeen. He went off to war, and were injured the first month. He died a few weeks later. I never saw him, there were no money to go and visit the hospital where he was.'
'I'm so sorry!' Kate murmured.
Maggie nodded. 'I went a bit wild. I dain't care, and when I met this fella, an officer, he was, an Irishman who'd kissed the Blarney Stone, and he wanted me to go away with him, promised we'd be wed soon, I thought I was in for a life o' luxury. It were great for a couple of months, we travelled all over the place. He weren't short of the ready, we stayed in posh hotels, he said we'd go to Ireland and be wed there. But when I fell for you you couldn't see him for dust, he scarpered that fast.'
'He left you?' Kate asked. 'Oh, poor Maggie! How dreadful! He must have been a rotter! What did you do?'
'I had ter come home, tail between me legs. I only had enough money for the train fare. I even had to sneak outta the hotel, he left so fast he dain't pay the bill.'
She chuckled suddenly. 'It's funny now, but it weren't then, climbing outta window, sneaking through the garden, climbing over the wall into the road and walking to the station. I looked a right mess when I got home.'
'Then what happened,' Kate asked after a pause.
'Let's have a cuppa.'
'Sit still, I'll make it,' Kate said, standing up. She needed a moment to come to terms with this revelation.
Maggie sipped the tea, and stared into the fire. 'I was only just twenty, I dain't have any money, I had to do what Mom said. I were lucky they dain't throw me out, let me end in workhouse.'
'But why did Mum – Hattie – pretend I was hers? How did she get away with it?'
'I weren't allowed out the house until you were born. Then, when you was a couple of weeks old, we moved. The new neighbours thought you was hers.'
'Well, I know it's considered a great disgrace to have – to have an illegitimate baby,' Kate said awkwardly, 'but why all this deception?'
'Mom would have chucked me out, but Dad were brought up in an orphanage. He wouldn't have that.'
'I know. They found him as a baby on the steps of St Martin's church, and gave him that name.'
'So instead Mom said we'd have to pretend you was hers. You know her family disowned her when she married Dad, because he weren't a Catholic?'
'They were Irish, weren't they?'
Maggie nodded. 'The family came over here in 1845, when there were a famine in Ireland. But Mom still thought the same way her family did. Once she told me it were common, if a woman were young enough, to pretend that her daughter's bastard was her own, so as not to be disgraced, see.'
'And Mum's resented me ever since.'
'You was going out with a posh young fella,' Maggie said hesitantly. 'That's what she told me.'
Kate sighed. 'He gave me a lift home from Stella's party because it was raining, and I went for a ride in his motor car the next afternoon. That was all.'
'But he came to see you again, Mom said.'
'Yes, and Dad – Alf, punched him and hurt him badly! I'm surprised the police haven't been round!'
'Don't you see, love, he were afraid you'd be going same way as me? Swept off yer feet by a bit of glamour.'
Kate nodded. 'But Robert isn't like that! I know he's not! He's honourable, he was sorry for me because it was raining and I didn't have a coat, and he knew I'd never been out into the countryside. He never even touched me except to help me in and out of the car!'
'They're all like that in the beginning,' Maggie said. 'Kate, you won't let on what I've told you, will you? Mom would have me guts for garters if she thought you knew, after all these years.'
'I won't,' Kate promised, but inwardly she was determined to escape from her home as soon as she could. She no longer felt any obligation to help them. They'd deceived her. How could they treat her so?
*
Soon afterwards Kate left Maggie, promising again not to reveal what she had discovered to Hattie and Alf. But Maggie had not demanded secrecy from others, and Kate needed someone to talk to. She couldn't go home, not yet, until she was calmer, had absorbed this incredible news and decided what to do.
Instinctively she ran towards Calthorpe Road and school. She wanted a sense of normality. She needed to see Daphne, talk to her. It was almost time for school to end.
She reached the school gates and slid inside, plunging behind the dense bushes. When her breathing slowed she began to think more clearly. She was being stupid, betraying Maggie to the family which employed her. She really could not talk about this to anyone else. Daphne would not understand in any case, and it would be an act of betrayal to burden her only friend with such information.
At least she could make up some story, tell Daphne about the fiasco of the job interview, and ask if her mother had yet written a reference.
Kate shivered. It was a warm day, but she felt cold all through. How much longer before the girls were free?
A rustling behind her made her aware of some other presence in the dense shrubbery, and she turned, apprehensive. Moaner Mac was right behind her, leering at her, brandishing a pair of shears.
'Get off! You're not wanted here!' he said, moving another step forward. Kate stared. It was almost the first time she'd heard him say anything except for his monotonous moaning. He reached out to grasp her arm.
She had forgotten him, the many times she'd seen him in the shrubbery, spying on the girls as they moved about the school gardens, or coming and going along the drive. She stepped back, trying to shake off his hand.
'Let me be!' Her voice was hoarse, trembing with pent-up anguish. His grip on her tightened, and Kate began to struggle, trying to pull free. He had more strength than she'd ever have imagined, seeing him shambling about.
Suddenly he jerked her arm and she stumbled, falling against him, and before she could recover her balance he'd got one arm round her, and was trying to push her backwards out of the shrubbery He held the shears, hanging open, in the other hand, and the edge of one blade caught against her leg, making her wince. She struggled, afraid of falling to the ground and being slashed by the blades. If that happened she knew she would be helpless, and he was in such a frenzy heaven only knew what he would do.
He moved his hand suddenly to the back of her head, twisting his fingers into her hair. The momentary relaxation of his grip gave Kate the chance to jerk away from him. She turned to run, with him in hot pursuit. Grabbing her arm he began flailing at her, and she took a deep breath and began to scream for help.
'Shut up! Shut up!' he shouted. 'Momo will hear.'
As she tried to dodge the shears she fell to the ground, tangled in the lower branches and roots of a rhododendron bush, and he fell on top of her. Kate heard the bushes rustling, and feet running towards her. She looked up to see a policeman staring down at her, and mauve petals from the disturbed flowers descending onto her face.
Mac was hauled unceremoniously to his feet, and began gibbering with fear. In the midst of the spate of words Kate thought she heard him begging for his mother, and pleading with her not to smack him.
'What's going on?' a reassuringly calm voice enquired, and Kate struggled to her feet.
'He – Mac, he grabbed me, tried to hurt me with the shears,' she gasped. She wanted to weep. It was all too much, first the revelations Maggie had made, and now being attacked by a gibbering idiot.
Suddenly a new voice intervened.
'Kathleen Martins! Why are you here, in such an untidy state, and making false and malicious accusations about my brother?'
Kate looked at the Headmistress. Miss MacDonald was glaring down at her, bright patches of red in her cheeks, and her hair, normally immaculate, coming adrift of her bun with wisps blowing across her face. Behind her were the girls, released from class, about to set off home, but all of them spellbound by the excitement and staring avidly at Kate and Moaner Mac.
'I'm not telling lies!' The injustice of it make Kate furious. 'He caught me, attacked me!'
'That is what I saw, Miss,' the policeman said calmly, but at the same time, to Kate's astonishment, Moaner Mac tore himself away from the policeman's grasp and threw himself at Miss MacDonald.
'Momo! I didn't mean it! Don't punish me! I won't do it again! Momo, don't whip me!'
Kate gulped, and stared at them. Miss MacDonald pushed him away. 'Go to your room, dear, I'll speak to you later.'
Suddenly his constant moaning, and the knowledge she'd just learned from Maggie, made appalling sense.
'You're his mother, not his sister!' she said without thinking.
'How ridiculous! He's my brother.'
'No! Momo, I'll be good!'
'Just a minute,' the policeman said. 'Is he your son?'
'I – of course he isn't, he's my brother. I won't tolerate this! You, Kathleen, are no longer a pupil at this school and are trespassing. You will leave these premises at once, and I do not wish to see you here again! If you are seen I will hand you over to the police.'
The policeman coughed. 'Will you be all right, Miss?' he asked Kate. 'Just give me your name and address, and I'll come and get your side of it later. I'd better stay here and sort out this confusion first.'
Kate nodded and told him where she lived. He wrote it down in his notebook, and then advised the staring girls that the excitement was over and they had better be on their ways home.
Kate turned away, fighting against the tears that threatened. It was too much, all at once. Not that she wanted or intended to return to the school, but all the shocks of the day, her utter misery, and the disgust she'd felt as Moaner Mac held on to her, made her want to crawl into a dark hole and lick her wounds. She knew what injured animals felt like.
She caught a glimpse of a crowd of girls as she turned away, Daphne amongst them. Her friend looked horrified, and Kate wondered if Daphne would reject her. If she did, she would be completely alone, but she could not blame Daphne if she no longer wanted to know her.
Kate walked away, her shoulders rigid and her head held high. She would not be intimidated by Miss MacDonald and her frightful idiot brother. A buzz of comment followed her, but none of the girls moved, and Kate walked out alone, and turned, reluctantly, for home. It was the last place she wanted to be, but she had nowhere else to go. Maggie didn't have room for her, and anyway, if Maggie took her in Hattie and Alf would never give her any more help.
She had rounded the corner into Calthorpe Road before Daphne caught up with her.
'Kate, wait for me!' Daphne puffed. 'What on earth has happened?'
Kate turned and tried to smile. She was more relieved than she cared to admit to know that Daphne was still talking to her.
'That beastly boy, what did he do?'
'Tried to push me out of the grounds,' Kate replied briefly. 'It's not important. I wanted to see you, but I should have remembered he might be there, and we guessed he was daft.'
They walked along and Kate told Daphne about the fiasco of her interview. Somehow she couldn't divulge the rest. Not yet. In time she might be able to talk about it, but for the moment the pain was too raw for her to do more than think it over herself.
'Daphne! He called her his mother! Do you think it was really true?'
'I heard. I've been thinking about that. She's at least twenty years older than him. It could be, easily. And she pretends to be his sister because she isn't married? What a hoot!'
Kate nodded, but she was wondering how, if it were true, Miss MacDonald had managed to follow her own profession at the same time as looking after the poor half-witted boy. She suddenly felt a surge of sympathy for any woman in that position.
'I must go home now,' Daphne said reluctantly. 'Mother has some people coming for tea, and I promised to be there. Can you be here tomorow, after school? I have the reference, and I'd have brought it with me if I'd known you would be here.'
'I want to leave home, Daphne. After today, I know Mum hates me. I'll do anything. I once heard your mother say it was hard to find maids, as the girls want to work in the factories. I could do that. Maybe she'll ask her friends?'
'I know you've mentioned that before, but you really can't become a servant!'
'Why not? It's an honest way of earning a living, and that's what I need to do.'
'Yes, of course. I'm sorry, Kate. I wish I could do something for you. Promise me you'll try for a proper, respectable job first, though, and then you can find yourself a room,'
'Yes, but if it doesn't work, you'll ask your mother if any of her friends want a maid. Please?'
Daphne sighed. 'All right, I will. But she might not like the idea, you know, of a friend of mine, working for any of her friends. But I'll ask.'
'Thanks. And don't worry, I'll find something.' I have to, Kate added to herself. If she failed, she didn't know what they would do.
*
There were only a few odd jobs available in the Market Hall on the following day, and Kate was able to escape early to meet Daphne from school.
'Here's the reference. Keep it safely, but I have a copy as well. You'll never guess!'
'What?' Kate still felt numb, but Daphne hadn't seemed to notice. She was too full of her own news.
'The police came round to see Mother late last night. Miss MacDonald had eventually confessed that she was Moaner Mac's mother after all. She left him somewhere else until she came here, and had a flat at the school. Then she thought she was safe to have him with her. She packed their bags and was gone before my mother could go round to see her. There was such a fuss! They think they may have to close the school because of the scandal.'
'Oh no! It was all my fault!'
'For letting that nasty little worm attack you? Don't be silly! Anyway, if they do close the school I'll be going to Paris this year, not next. I can take matric there at the same time as being finished. Ha, as if I want to go to all the parties and learn how to arrange flowers and recognise opera and ballet music! It will be one less year wasted.'
Kate blinked at the excitement. 'I shall miss you terribly,' she said slowly.
'I know, and me you, but we can write. Now I must rush, I promised to be home early, there's so much going on with Governors meeting at the house, and I want to find out what's happening. Come round on Sunday if you can. By then you may have got yourself a job.'
*
Kate had high hopes that this would be so. On Friday, while she was working for one of the stall-holders, another of the girls told her that a big dress shop in New Street was looking for girls to train as assistants. Armed with her reference from Mrs Carstairs Kate went there in her dinner hour, and was lucky to find the manageress free and willing to see her.
'Why did you leave school in the middle of term?'
'I had to earn money, and I'd realised I didn't want to be a teacher after all,' Kate said. 'I've been helping out in the market, that's why my clothes aren't very clean,' she apologised.
'No matter, we supply our girls with a uniform. Let me read that reference. H'm, yes, very good. You seem to be just the sort of girl we are looking for. But I have promised to see another girl this afternoon, so I cannot let you know straight away. If I do give you the job, could you start on Tuesday?'
Kate was ecstatic. 'Yes, please,' she whispered, and wanted to hug the motherly-looking woman.
'I can let you know on Monday and you could come in that afternoon to be fitted with a uniform.'
Kate was walking on air when she left the shop. It wasn't settled, but she felt confident. It would solve some of her problems, and she could begin to look forward to finding a room of her own and escaping from a home that had become abhorrent to her.
On Sunday, she would go and see Daphne, and perhaps be able to thank Mrs Carstairs.
Walking up the drive of the Carstairs' house Kate could hear laughter coming from the direction of the tennis court. She breathed a sigh of relief. That solved one dilemma. She'd been wondering whether she ought she to go to the back door. She had been shy of ringing the front door bell, uncertain of how she ought to behave now she was no longer one of Daphne's schoolfriends. She could go round to the court and find Daphne without having to face the parlourmaid who answered the front door.
Stella and some of her friends were playing. Daphne and her mother and a few more people were sitting at the side watching, holding glasses of lemonade. Daphne saw her first, hovering at the edge of the grass, and jumped up with a cry of welcome.
'Kate! Lovely to see you! Have you found a job yet?'
Kate smiled at her, then glanced across at Mrs Carstairs, and her heart gave a lurch of dismay. The older woman looked even more forbidding than Miss MacDonald at her most severe.
'Kate, I must speak with you,' she said, rising to her feet. 'No, you stay here with your guests, Daphne dear. Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. Come.'
Kate glanced at Daphne, who was looking as puzzled and shocked as she felt at the tone Mrs Carstairs had used. She turned and followed Mrs Carstairs into the house, into the small parlour where she'd spent time with Daphne and her friends during the party.
'How did you acquire headed notepaper of mine?' she demanded.
Kate looked at her in astonishment. 'I don't know what you mean,' she protested. 'The only notepaper of yours I have is the reference you wrote for me. I wanted to thank you for that, I think it has helped me to get a really wonderful job.'
'I'm sorry, Kate, to disillusion you. The proprietor of that shop telephoned me on Friday and I had to tell her that I have never written a reference for you. In the circumstances, she will naturally not be offering you a job.'
'I – I didn't know!'
'So you tell lies too? You and your family seem to be causing a great deal of trouble just lately. First your father assaults our friend Robert, who was only being kind to you. He is fortunate not to be put in prison, but Robert did not wish for the notoriety that would have resulted. Then your behaviour results in my school losing its Headmistress, and creating a good deal of scandal into the bargain. Oh, I don't excuse her deception, and she was, or had been, immoral in the past, but she was a good teacher, and now several parents have indicated they intend to remove their daughters. Once a school's reputation is lost, it is very difficult to restore its good name, so we will almost certainly have to close it. A great pity, after so many years, but there may be no option. Now you forge a reference from me, including falsifying my signature on it.'
Kate was reeling. How had this happened? It was none of her fault. How had the reference been written? Then she realised that Daphne must have done it. She opened her mouth, then shut it again. She could not betray her friend, who had only been trying to help her.
Mrs Carstairs was continuing. 'I shudder when I think I have welcomed you to my house, allowed you to associate with my daughters and guests, and all the time you are scheming how to use my kindness. From now on you will not attempt to see Daphne again. Do you understand?'
Kate nodded, incapable of speech. Mrs Carstairs reached behind her and handed her an envelope. 'I'm sorry, but I cannot have anything to do with any member of your family ever again. Please give Maggie this, it is a month's pay in lieu of notice.'
'You're sacking Maggie?' Kate at last managed to speak. 'But she's had nothing to do with any of this! That's unfair!'
'I will judge what is fair or not. I am being generous, very, but I do not wish to be reminded of your ingratitude whenever I see your sister. She is too like you in looks,' she added quietly.
Kate stared at her for a moment, and then, before her tears blinded her, she turned and left the room. What else could go wrong?
*
Still numb from all the shocks, Kate went to the market on Monday morning to ask around for the usual odd jobs. She had been unable to sleep, unable to bring herself to take the money to Maggie and confess the whole miserable story to her, and had no energy for looking for other jobs. She felt sure anyway that her reputation would be known and no Birmingham shopkeeper would employ her.
If only she had enough money to pay her fare to a distant town! She wanted to escape from it all, to leave all her problems behind. Where no one knew her she might find a job, any job. She could sleep under a hedge or in a barn or haystack until she found a room. That was it. She'd keep the next few coppers she earned and take a tram out to the Lickey Hills, in the countryside, and start walking. Maybe she could find work on a farm, or in a village like the ones she'd seen with Robert.
She was offered work helping to carry baskets of vegetables from the cart they'd arrived in, which was parked in Moat Lane, to a stall in the Bull Ring near where her father had set his up. It was heavy work, but she welcomed it. Hard labour helped her not to think, and thinking was driving her mad.
'Me brother's not well, still nursin' a sick 'ead from too much beer,' the owner of the stall, a big blowsy woman, said. She didn't sound as though she had much sympathy with him. She had already set up the trestles and the boxes at the back, ready to display her goods. As Kate trudged back and forth between cart and trestles, urged to get a move on and make haste every time she saw her temporary employer, she was vaguely aware of the noise around her. It was always noisy in the early mornings in the outside markets. The Market Hall, in contrast, was relatively quiet despite the hundreds of stalls it held, and its vast, echoing roof.
To distract her thoughts from what she was going to do, Kate tried to recall what she had heard about the markets. They had been held on this spot for hundreds of years, near the site of the original manor house. There had been fairs, and open markets long before the Market Halls had been built. They'd had to dig really deep foundations for them where the moat had been. And they'd had cattle markets in the Bull Ring, which now had stalls, and looking on at it was the huge statue of Lord Nelson. It had been one of the first, she'd heard, of that great sailor.
What was the sea like? Would she ever see it? Would she ever escape? It was no good, she couldn't keep her thoughts off her own problems. She'd go and see Maggie as soon as this job was finished, confess, and ask her what to do.
She was carrying the last of the baskets, when she heard someone scream. This was not especially odd, there was always a lot of shouting, but something about the quality of the scream made her turn round.
'Catch 'im!'
'Get out the way!'
There were more shouts, lots of screams, and the neighing of a terrified horse. Kate gasped as she saw one of the huge carthorses, whites of eyes showing, foam flecking from its mouth, rear up, then its enormous hooves come crashing down on the cobbles.
One of the motor vans was nearby, and there was smoke coming from under the bonnet. At that moment a spurt of flame came out and the man who had been struggling to open the bonnet fell back, to be dragged away by others. The horse, panic-stricken, reared again, and Kate saw a young lad clinging to the harness.
Then it all seemed to happen at once. The van burst into flames, and the horse, silhouetted against them, tossed his great head so that the lad fell to the side. The horse, terrified, was struggling to bolt, but the cart it was pulling refused to move. This frightened the poor beast still further. The area all round the markets was always jammed tight with carts and motor vans at this time of morning, as the traders brought in their wares, and the wheels of the cart were impeded by other vehicles.
The great horse, its strength increased by fear, gave a great heave and the cart, smashed to pieces, and ripping parts off the others, was dragged free. Several planks dragged on the ground, a metal running board clanked against the cobbles, and crates of bottles, dislodged from a van, crashed down and added to the horrendous noise, maddening the terrified beast even more. He plunged in an attempt to rid himself of the constraints, the wreckage of the cart was dragged free, and he suddenly began to lumber forwards. All around people were screaming in fright, or yelling commands, and the van, burning fiercely, black smoke pouring from it, added to the confusion.
Getting up speed, tossing his head, the horse headed away from the fire, the ruined cart behind him swinging round, colliding with others, upsetting more of their contents, and banging against the horse's legs. Someone, Kate couldn't see who, sprang forward and grasped the reins in a valiant attempt to stop it just as a beer barrel rolled into the horse's path. Wild-eyed with terror, he swung his head round to rid himself of this restraint as he reared away from the barrel. For a few seconds more the man clung on, the huge horse prancing on its hind legs, but then, as his feet crashed down Kate, horrorstruck, saw the man fall to the ground beneath them.
A concerted moan went up from the watching crowd. The wheels of the cart rocked and the horse, fettered now only with the remnants of the cart, from which the loose planks had fallen, gathered up speed and galloped down the hill for the more open spaces of Digbeth.
An odd silence had fallen. Most of the crowd had drawn back, only a few venturing near the fallen man. Kate swallowed hard. He could not have survived, the horse had trampled on him, and the remains of the cart had probably passed over him. She wanted to move, look away. She was still clutching a basket full of cabbages. and if she did not get them to the stall quickly the owner, already flustered and short-tempered, would be even angrier.
Something held her, and most of the crowd, immobile. Then a man in a dark suit pushed his way forward.
'Let me through,' Kate heard, in the odd silence. 'I'm a doctor.'
He knelt beside the fallen man, hidden from Kate by the people in front, and then another sound, a sharp and piercing wailing, broke the silence.
'Alf! Alf! Oh, yer damned fool! What did you 'ave ter get yerself killed fer?'
Kate recognised her mother's voice. No, not her mother, she reminded herself. She felt the basket of cabbages slipping from her grasp, and suddenly crumpled up, falling to the ground.
***