Whenever she could escape from home Daphne went to the Market Hall and asked more stallholders whether they knew Kate, but without success. She began to wonder whether she could venture to Kate's home, at least to ask amongst the neighbours, or lie in wait in the hope of seeing Kate without her parents being there. She was, however, afraid of Alf. Somehow she didn't think he would respect her either as a female or someone from an influential family. From all she'd understood by the discreet talk at home he was a man it would be dangerous to offend.
Then, calling herself a fool for not thinking of it before, she remembered Maggie. She'd go and see her, but she didn't know where she lived.
'When is Maggie coming back to work?' she asked her mother one day, just before Stella's wedding. 'Surely she's had the baby by now, and you could do with some extra help.'
Mrs Carstairs frowned, and pursed her lips. 'Maggie Pritchard is not coming back,' she said. 'I was thoroughly taken in by that family! First Kate, inveigling her way in here, then her dreadful father attacking poor deluded Robert. As if it wasn't enough for the girl to create a scandal and almost ruin the school, she has the impudence to forge a reference from me, to get her a good job. I want nothing more to do with any of them. Now be a good girl, and check this list of the invitations sent against the acceptances. The caterers need to know the exact numbers by tomorrow.'
Daphne did as she was bid, but her thoughts were chaotic. Her mother thought Kate had forged the reference? And because of that Maggie had lost her job? She dropped her head into her hands and tried to think clearly. She would have to confess. It wasn't fair to let Kate take the blame. She knew nothing about Daphne's part in this, was totally innocent, Maggie even more so.
It wasn't like her mother to act with such anger. She'd liked Kate, helped her, and she had kept Maggie's job open for her despite all the children, and the times Maggie had been forced to take off when she was giving birth, or one of the children had been too ill to leave with a neighbour.
Taking the finished list Daphne sought out her mother, who was busy conferring with florists.
'Thank you, dear,' she murmured, taking the list and turning immediately to a discussion of colour schemes.
'Mother, I need to tell you something,' Daphne said, determined to get her confession over with.
'Not now, dear, I'm too busy.'
It was lunchtime the following day before Daphne could catch her mother alone. She had baulked at the idea of making her confession during dinner, with the rest of the family present, and Mrs Carstairs had risen early and left the house before Daphne came down to breakfast.
'Something to do with the wretched school,' Stella said.
At last, however, Mrs Carstairs came home and went up to her bedroom. Daphne followed and tapped at the door.
'Mother, I have to tell you now!' she protested when Mrs Carstairs, rubbing her eyes with weariness, asked if it could not wait.
The confession was painful, but Daphne bore the reproaches stoically.
'I felt so sorry for Kate,' she said, 'and I thought you would be sorry for her too when you had got over the shock. I didn't know you suspected her, I didn't even know anyone had told you about it.'
'I'm at fault too,' Mrs Carstairs said, and sighed. 'I didn't ask, I accused her and wouldn't believe she could be innocent. And now there's Maggie too, unfairly dismissed. Daphne, promise me you'll never do something like this again? Look what trouble we've caused between us!'
'I want to see Kate, make sure she's all right.'
'Have you written to her?'
'No. Kate said her mother opened or threw away any letters that came for her. She almost threw away one inviting Kate for an interview, but Kate was there and knew what it was, and managed to stop her.'
'We'll put it right. Daphne, it's the wedding in two days, and I have an applicant for the Head's position to interview tomorrow. I can't do anything until afterwards, but then I will go and see Maggie and apologise. Write a letter to Kate and explain, and I'm sure Maggie will give it to her, and then you can meet again. Ask her here, before you go to Paris, and I can apologise to her too.'
*
Soon Kate's efforts on the stall were beginning to show a small profit, and she cautiously began to hope they might be able to carve a living for themselves. She'd far rather have tried to get a different job, with a regular wage, but if she did what would happen to Hattie? Despite the way she'd treated her, Kate found she didn't have the heart to desert Hattie, and without her help she would not be able to run the stall on her own or make any sort of living. Any wage Kate could earn would not be enough to pay the rent and feed them. The stall was a better prospect. Hattie was morose, resentful that her own authority had been challenged, but unable to change the situation. Instead she grumbled constantly, and for fear she might offend the customers by her rudeness, Kate took to sending her off to talk to her cronies on other stalls, preferring to run it alone once they had set it up for the day.
Hattie was never reluctant to go, but she complained bitterly about Kate's managing ways, and Kate endured many sidelong looks and a few direct disparaging comments from other market people. She shrugged them off, they didn't matter. She was making progress. Until, that was, the day came when the man from whom Alf had bought the cart came and complained that the payments on it were not being made.
'But, Mr Bridges, you said you could wait until we got sorted.'
'Yes, I know, lass, and I'm right sorry, but I've had losses meself, see, an' I need the lolly straight off.'
'But I haven't got it! Not yet. I will have enough soon, I'm sure. Can't you wait another week or two?'
He shook his head. 'No, or I'll be in a right old mess meself. Anyroad, from what I sees, you and yer Ma can't manage, so what good's the cart to you? Tell yer what, I'll tek it back, and pay yer what yer Dad's paid already, less a percentage fer commission, o' course, and the use it's had.'
Kate was certain she was being swindled out of at least some of the value, but, as he pointed out, if she refused he could take possession of the cart and she could never prove he wasn't entitled to it.
Hattie, when she found out, was predictably furious. 'That cart were yer Dad's pride and joy,' she declared. 'He worked his guts out fer that, and yer lets that pesky Tom Bridges cheat yer!'
'You've changed your tune,' Kate snapped. 'You hated the cart, never stopped blaming Dad for buying it! Well, you won't have to push it any more! I'm going round to tell the man who's been storing it, and cancel the booking for the place in the market. We don't need either now. We'll think of something else. I can try to get a job and pray it'll pay enough to keep us both.'
What that could be, she didn't know. But for once luck was on her side when she found a job helping in a small bakery shop in the High Street, and they were so desperate for someone they didn't ask for a reference. But the next day she had other problems. Hattie left their rooms at the usual time, and when Kate arrived home after a hard day serving in the shop, trying to learn the names of all the different types of bread and cakes, she found a policeman in the kitchen.
'What is it? Mum? Where is she?'
'Don't you fret yerself, lass,' the policeman said. 'Yer Ma's in bed, asleep.'
'But what's happened?'
'She took a walk, got lost, and they found her cryin' somewhere in Shirley.'
'But that's miles away! Had she walked that far?'
'Six or seven miles, Miss, probably more if she'd been wandering. I don't know. She wouldn't say anything, except she wanted to go home, and be with Alf. That's yer Pa?'
Kate was appalled. 'He's dead, he died a few weeks ago. Is her mind going?'
'No, she was able to give us this address, and we brought her back. She had her key, so we knew it was right. She said you'd be home soon, so I waited ter let yer know the score.'
'Thank you,' Kate sighed. 'I'm grateful.'
'She'll be all right when she's had a good kip. Losing a man takes some women like that, but they soon get back ter normal, you'll see.'
*
Within a couple of weeks Kate discovered that she faced much the same obstacles as before. Her job just about paid the rent, and by the time she got home, having done the shopping, and needing to cook and clean, there was no time left to earn anything by doing odd jobs in the market. Twice Hattie had wandered off. Kate, this time summoned to go and collect her mother from where she'd been found, weeping and distraught, lost more precious time.
The blow came when her employer gave her the wages for the week.
'Sorry, lass, but it's not going to work out, not if you has to keep taking time off to collect your ma from all over the city.'
Kate couldn't blame him. They were always busy, and if she wasn't there the other assistants couldn't keep up, the queues of impatient shoppers and office workers got longer, and she knew some had threatened to take their custom elsewhere.
After the first surge of despair Kate decided that she must try to get a job in the evenings. Then she might be able to work in the market during the mornings as she had previously, when they were busiest setting up. She applied to the local cinemas, and at the third one was taken on as an usherette. Taking tickets, using a small torch to show people to their seats, was comparatively easy work, but she still needed extra cash to make ends meet, and the odd jobs in the market were too uncertain.
She was determined not to break into the small sum of money Mr Bridges had given her, at least for buying food, for an idea had been forming as she watched the girls in the cinema, carrying trays from which they sold sweets and ice cream during the intervals. Many of the market traders who could not afford proper stalls set up their wares at the sides of the road, carrying them on trays, in baskets or on small barrows. She could use Mr Bridges' cash to buy stock and sell that way. It had to be something small and light in weight, but fairly valuable. She needed more than one thing, too, in the hope that when customers bought one they might be tempted by others. She could do that every morning. She went to consult Bella.
Bella was just closing down her stall, and she took Kate for a cup of tea in a nearby café.
'Yer looks peaky,' she commented. 'Yer needs summat warm inside yer.'
'I'm OK, the weather's warm enough for me,' Kate reassured her. 'But a cup of tea would be great.'
Bella was silent until they had the teapot and some buns she'd ordered in front of them. 'Pens, and pencils,' she said abruptly. 'There's a manufacturer down in Hockley who'd let yer buy 'em direct, then yer don't need wholesalers.'
'Bella, that's a wonderful idea! I could do coloured crayons and chalk too.'
'But yer wants different things. Let me see. Would yer Ma be selling with yer?'
Kate shook her head. 'It's a job for one,' she said. This time Hattie was to have no chance of ruining her efforts.
'Then yer wants summat she can do ter help at home. Pins and hair grips.'
'You mean those little cards which have the pins stuck in them, or hair grips clipped to them?'
'That's right. Yer can buy the pins and cards in bulk. If Jarrett's won't let yer have some, there's other firms. Yer Ma can sit at home all day cardin' them, you can sell what she does. An' if yer needs to, yer can do some yerself in the evenings. But it's more likely yer'll be able ter sell on, she'll be able ter do more than you can sell in a day.'
'Where can I get them? And I could sell hairnets too. Maybe combs. And slides for the children.'
'That's the ticket! Soon be setting up a stall inside, along o' me!'
*
By the middle of the following week Kate had used half of the money to buy her stock, and a small barrow where she could display samples of everything in trays on the top, while keeping the rest stored in boxes below, ready to replenish what she sold. She had soon established a regular pitch in the Bull Ring, not far from St Martin's Church, and by the end of the week knew that with this money as well as her regular job she would be able to make enough for them to live on, to pay the rent and buy food.
Hattie, as Kate had expected, had grumbled continuously from the start.
You'm no more than a common tinker. Yer Dad'll be turning in his grave, seeing what yer've brought us to.'
Kate ignored her, but soon Hattie found more cause for complaint.
'Why should I stay in all day and prick me fingers raw with these dratted pins?' she demanded on the first morning when Kate, pleased and optimistic, arrived home to get ready to go to the cinema.
'You can get out to do the shopping,' Kate replied. 'If you get lost I'm not coming to fetch you. I can't afford to lose another job because you're inconsiderate. I'll help in the evenings when I've finished work. Why don't you do the hair grips instead? I'll do the pins when I've had some tea.'
'The grips are difficult, they keep twistin' so's I can't get the wavy sides on the top.'
'That's silly!' Kate said, exasperated. 'It doesn't take a second to get them the right way up.'
'Oh, so I'm daft now, am I?'
Kate bit her lip. Aggravating as Hattie was she did owe her something for bringing her up, reluctantly though it had been. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean you were silly, but it's not a difficult job.'
'It is when yer fingers are crippled with the rheumatics, after years of 'andling wet fish.'
Kate murmured words of comfort, but inwardly fumed. Hattie had never before complained about her fingers, but when Kate took a closer look she realised that the fingers were indeed gnarled and twisted, and probably did hurt. Feeling guilty, she resolved to be less critical in future, and try to do as much as she could herself. Meanwhile, she tried to think of other jobs Hattie might do at home.
Two weeks went by, and Kate was beginning to replace some of the money she had taken from her store. They lived frugally, mainly on bread and cheese, and the discarded vegetables Kate scavenged at the end of each day on her way home from the cinema. At least it wasn't fish, she thought with an inward grin. But soon she might indeed be able to rent a stall inside the Market Hall. That would pay more than her two jobs did now. Life began to look better for the first time since Alf had been killed. Only the departure of Maggie and her family to Coventry marred Kate's renewed optimism, but Maggie had made them promise to visit as soon as they had the money to spare for buying bus tickets.
Hattie seemed more content too. She'd only wandered off once this week, and Kate refrained from mentioning how little work she'd done on the other days. If she herself stayed up very late she could keep her own stock of pins and hair grips replenished, but she was unable to supply anyone else, as she'd hoped.
And then a new cause for worry occurred on Saturday. It poured with rain, a heavy autumn storm, and she was soaking wet when she arrived home and went upstairs. Hattie was out, but Kate shrugged and began to prepare a meal for herself, lighting the fire and heating up the thin broth she'd made a few days earlier from vegetables and a bag of bones Walter had given her.
He'd been bashful, almost apologetic, insisting they'd only be thrown away.
'And there's goodness in bones,' he explained, his voice and face earnest and somehow childlike, expecting a rebuff.
Kate was cutting a few slices of bread from the loaf when Hattie came back. At first she did not recognise her mother's voice coming up the stairs, for Hattie was singing, loudly and tunelessly, and Kate had never before heard her do that.
The door crashed open, making Kate jump, and Hattie, her arms round the waist of an immensely fat woman, almost fell into the kitchen.
'Mum?' Kate put down the bread and knife and moved hurriedly towards Hattie. 'What is it?'
Hattie's companion laughed. 'Yer Ma's 'ad a drop too much Guinness,' she said, steering Hattie to the nearest chair.
Kate stared. As far as she knew Hattie had never drunk beer, and Alf had only rarely gone to the pub for a pint with his mates. There hadn't been money to spare, most of the time.
The thought made Kate go cold. 'Where did you get the money from?' she demanded. 'There wasn't any left over after you bought the bread yesterday.'
Hattie giggled. 'Yer may 'ave gone ter posh school, our Kate, but yer don't know everything!' She hiccuped, and her eyelids began to droop.
'I'll be off, then, lass,' the woman who'd brought Hattie home said, turning towards the door.
'Oh, yes, and thank you so much for bringing her home.'
'Not the first time, but she's drunk more'n usual terday.'
Kate watched her out of the room, went and closed the door, and then, dreading what she would find, went to count the money in the old sock which she had hidden under her bed.
It was empty. Hattie had found it, she must have done, and taken their nest egg to spend on drink. It must have been happening for some time, for it all to go, but Kate had had no suspicion.
Kate sat down on the bed, numb from this fresh disaster. How would they manage to eat? More importantly, how would they manage to pay the rent, which was due on Monday?
She pulled out her purse and feverishly counted the coins. These were her week's wages, and a few pence she kept with her for shopping. Her shoulders drooped in relief. There was enough to pay the next week's rent, and a little for food.
Kate began to make frantic calculations. She wouldn't be able to buy more pens or pencils, and even when she had sold all her present stock, the profit would not be enough to buy the quantities she needed in order to get enough discount to make her own profit.
There was no point in scolding Hattie. She was at present incapable of understanding. Kate considered her options. The only way to raise any money was to sell or pawn something. They had never resorted to this before, Alf had been adamant it was the way to certain ruin, but what else could she do? They had nothing of value to sell. And what could she pawn?
In the end she decided that it had to be Alf's clothes. She had not been able to bring herself to even look at them after he died, neither had Hattie, but they might fetch a few shillings, enough to buy some new stock.
The pawn shops would open on Monday morning, she would take them then. And in future she would keep every penny with her. Hattie should not have another opportunity of wrecking all her plans.
*
'That's better,' Daphne said, breathing in the smells of the Seine along with that of freshly baked bread. The Channel steamer had been decidedly unpleasant. Even in September, it seemed, they could endure rough seas, and Daphne had spent most of the crossing lying down, willing her uneasy stomach to stay still.
Robert laughed. 'I'm sure you felt better the moment you got ashore and on to the train.'
'Yes,' she admitted, 'but the memory was too recent for complacency. It was kind of you to meet me.'
'I'm here, and your mother cabled me for help. It was the least I could do to arrange a cab and escort you from the station, when your mother was unwell and unable to accompany you. How did you leave her?'
'Weak, but recovering. I think it was the strain of Stella's wedding and all the wretched business about the school. Mother had so many calls on her the last few weeks she barely rested, and when Stella had finally gone she collapsed.'
Daphne frowned. Her mother had not yet been to see Maggie, she'd been too ill, but she'd promised to go and to take Daphne's letter as soon as she was well enough.
'Has the school closed? I never did hear the full story, just that the Head Mistress had departed in a hurry, and half the girls had been withdrawn by concerned parents.'
Daphne giggled. 'Did you know Moaner Mac? That's what we all called him, for we never knew his real name, and he wandered round the place moaning a queer sort of humming noise all the time.'
'I've heard you and Stella mention him.'
'Well, he attacked a girl one afternoon.' Daphne paused. It would be better not to mention Kate. She did not want Robert feeling even more sorry for her, or even to be reminded of her. Surely here in Paris he would have forgotten that brief infatuation? 'The police caught him,' she went on hurriedly. 'And he began to cry, calling for his mother. We'd always been told Miss MacDonald was his sister, but it appears she was his mother, so it was all a dreadful scandal, and the parents started to take the girls away. Then the two of them, Moaner and his mother, left one day without telling anyone.'
'And your mother has been trying to find another Head?'
'Yes. She has someone now, but no one knows what will happen when term begins, whether any of the girls will come back.'
'Surely they will, after the panic has died down. But how is Stella? Have you heard from her? They went to Scotland, I believe?'
'Yes, and she's revelling in having hundreds of acres to call her own! She sends her best wishes, by the way. But how much longer are you in Paris? And have you found a suitable site for the new factory?'
'I must go home tomorrow, I'm afraid, so I've arranged with your Principal to take you out for dinner this evening.'
Daphne hid her disappointment. She'd hoped to see more of him than this. 'Oh, how lovely! Thank you, Robert! I didn't know if I would be allowed to go out with anyone except my parents. Will you be back again soon, if you have a site? Surely you will have to supervise the building, and so on?'
'The notary is dealing with the legal side, and yes, I'll be back again in a few weeks. Certainly before Christmas. Are you going home for the holidays?'
'If I can face that crossing! It will be even worse in December, I expect.'
Robert grinned at her. 'Not always. Look, here we are. Have you seen Kate recently?' he added hurriedly. 'As I recall you were good friends. Will she be returning to the school?'
*
It proved to be a humiliating experience, venturing into the nearest pawn shop. Kate had passed it by hundreds of times, and she knew that the clothes hung on a pole outside were those which had never been redeemed by their owners. She shuddered. Would Alf's best suit ever be hung there?
The window was full of small items, watches and clocks, crockery, a tray of rings, mostly the plain gold bands. What desperation had forced women to give up what was for many their most cherished possession?
The shop, which Kate had expected to be dark and dingy inside, smelling of old unwashed clothes, was surprisingly clean, well-lit from the front window, and with shelves round the walls holding yet more small items, mainly crockery and ornaments.
There was a small queue, women and children clutching bundles, and obviously most of them knew one another, from the conversation she overheard. Monday was the day for bringing in what goods could be spared, for a few shillings to carry them through the week until, they hoped, there would be cash to redeem them on Saturday. Kate saw Sunday-best clothes, blankets, even a meat jack used for roasting joints of meat.
As the regulars became aware of Kate there were a few speculative glances at her own burden, which Kate had wrapped neatly in paper. Most carried the clothes openly over their arms. One of the women knew Kate from the market, and nodded a greeting, but did not speak. Kate burned with embarrassment, but it had to be endured.
She watched carefully as the manageress, a small woman with a scraggy neck, looked over each parcel, named a price, and entered the details in a book before handing over the cash and a ticket. A matching ticket was pinned to the bundle, and a child no more than six or seven, who surely ought to have been at school, then hauled them into a back room.
At last it was Kate's turn. Mutely she handed over the bundle, winced as the woman tutted loudly at having to undo string and paper, and waited in resigned patience for the offer.
'Half a crown, Miss. They're very worn.'
'But – you gave the woman in front of me four shillings!' Kate protested, pulled out of her apathy. 'All she had was a jacket.'
'I knows Joannie, she'll be back on Saturday, the moment her man comes in the door and hands over his wages. I never saw you before.'
Briefly Kate wondered whether she should go elsewhere, but it took so much time, time she could not spare if she were to be about the market today, selling what she could to try and stave off this disaster.
'I see,' she replied, and meekly took the coin, tucking it into her purse along with the ticket. Perhaps, she thought as she walked back home to collect her barrow, if this became a regular event she might in time progress to three shillings.
It was little enough, but she was able to buy bread. They wouldn't starve just yet.
For some reason the sale of pens and pencils did not go as briskly as in the previous weeks. Bella guessed why when she came out of the Market Hall.
'I needs a breath of air, it's so hot,' she complained as she stood beside Kate. 'The kiddies are all back at school now, they won't want new pencils for a while, until the new 'uns wear down.'
'Oh, I hadn't thought of that. Of course they won't. What else can I get to sell instead?'
At least, Kate was thinking, she need not worry about a bulk order to replenish her stock for a few weeks. But the pens and pencils had been good sellers, so her profit was certain to be down, adding to her difficulties.
*
'You're still not well,' Mr Carstairs said. 'Why not leave it a day or two more?'
Mrs Carstairs shook her head. She'd left it far too long already, she thought. First there were all the arrangements for Stella's wedding, then getting Daphne prepared for Paris. She'd managed to do all that, but the inevitable collapse had come.
'I need not be long, but I did Maggie an injustice, and it's high time I put it right.'
'I wish I could come with you, but I have people I must see today.'
'There's no need. Norman is here, he'll drive me, so I won't have to exert myself. I'll be home before lunch, and will rest on my bed all afternoon.'
Norman drove her through the centre of the city, and towards the street in Deritend where Maggie lived.
'She's an excellent, willing worker,' she said, 'yet she has so much trouble in her life, with a feckless husband and all those children. I must offer her compensation, to make up for the wages I would have paid her.'
'Take care she doesn't play too much on your sympathy,' Norman said. 'Some of these people will do anything to scrounge a few more pounds.'
His mother looked at him, and shook her head. 'I know some are rogues, but not Maggie, nor Kate.'
'But look where they live,' Norman said, drawing the car to a halt outside Maggie's house. 'It's a dreadful slum! Look, there are even houses boarded up, empty. No doubt they're overrun with rats and lice. Only the most shiftless can endure these conditions.'
'And those poor through no fault of their own,' Mrs Carstairs said.
How had Norman grown to be so hard? She'd tried to instill in all her children a sense of duty towards those less fortunate than themselves, but only Daphne seemed to understand it. Stella's main aim in life was to enjoy herself, Norman's to amass as great a fortune as he could through his dealings on the stock market. She didn't admit to herself how shocked she was at the conditions. She'd never imagined Maggie's home could be so dreadful. Maggie had always come to work in clean, respectable if darned clothes. How had she managed that in such depressing surroundings?
'Shall I knock on the door?'
'Please, Norman. They have only two rooms, Maggie said once, so maybe a landlady will come.'
She stepped out of the motor car as the door opened, and a slatternly woman, cigarette dangling in the corner of her mouth, wearing a dirty apron and shabby slippers, appeared.
'I'm looking for Maggie Pritchard, I think she lives here,' Mrs Carstairs said, conscious of Norman's disapproving face beside her.
'Maggie? Yer too late, Missus. Maggie an' the rest of 'em went off ter Coventry a while back.'
'Coventry? Why there?'
She shrugged. 'I mind me own business,' she said. 'What folks don't tell me I don't ask.'
'Do you have an address for her?'
'No.'
Mrs Carstairs opened her handbag, and the woman eyed it with interest. Norman took a step forward and held out his arm as if to protect her, but Mrs Carstairs gently pushed it away.
'Is there anything you can tell me which might help me to find her?'
She glared with undiminished hostility, but suddenly became talkative. 'Not coppers, are yer? Nah, too posh. Not after Sam then. One o' these days 'e'll go too far, and then 'e'll get 'is comeuppance. If I'd bin Maggie, I'd 'ave sent 'im off years since.'
Mrs Carstairs waited, and after a moment started to close her handbag. The woman burst into speech again.
'Sam, 'e got a job in a factory in Coventry,' she said quickly. 'It were just after Maggie's Dad were killed, so they all upped sticks an' went. Dain't even give me proper notice,' she added. 'Left me with rooms I could 'ave let again if I'd known in time. Lost me a week's rent, they did.'
'Maggie's father was killed? How?' Mrs Carstairs demanded, at last able to break into the stream of complaint.
'In market, run over by a mad 'oss.'
Aghast at this news, Mrs Carstairs handed the woman a couple of coins and turned back to the motor. Norman helped her in and closed the door, then went round to the driver's side.
'So that's that. She's well cared for if her husband is working in one of Coventry's factories. No need for you to bother any more.'
'Yes there is. Poor Kate, and we never knew! I must go and see her, but not today. I'm too shocked and tired. Take me home, Norman.'
'Willingly! At least you won't need to come here again.'
*
Maggie had been delighted at how easy it had been to find a job, just five minutes from their new rooms, in a clean factory making rayon stockings. Sam seemed content, even though he had to walk some distance to and from work. He dutifully handed over his wage packet each week, and Maggie gave him back money to spend on himself.
At last, she thought as she opened an account at the savings bank, they might be able to escape from grinding poverty. She was careful with the money, but they had enough to pay the rent, buy decent food, and new shoes and coats for the children who were at school.
Mrs Lloyd, their landlady, asked very little for looking after the two little ones, and soon the older girl would also be at school, which would help even more.
Kate had sent one letter, telling her about the loss of the cart, and how it had been a blessing in the end, for she now had a regular job which paid the rent, and was beginning to make more profit with her pens and pencils. Mum could stay inside all day carding pins and hairgrips, and being able to stay in the warm would help her rheumatism when the colder weather came.
'She seems happy,' Maggie said that evening to Sam, when the children were in bed in the other room, and she'd shown him the letter. 'I worried about leaving them, so soon after Dad died, but Kate's a bright lass. She's make a go of it.'
'Course she will. Like my Maggie. That were a tasty pie yer made. I'll be getting fat if yer feeds me this well.'
'We could all do with a bit more flesh on our bones.'
'You're OK,' Sam said, and stretched out an arm to catch Maggie as she moved past his chair. 'Come on, gi' us a kiss! It's bin months, and I miss yer!'
'No, Sam,' Maggie protested, wriggling out of his embrace. 'It's too risky. I don't want another kid.'
'Yer wouldn't lose another, pet, that were just bad luck.'
'You don't know that. And you don't have to carry it and then go through birthing it. But I'd lose me job, for certain, and any chance the rest of us have of getting a decent life. I want the kids we've got to do well, perhaps as well as Kate, not ter go hungry and barefoot, to have a better chance in life than we ever had.'
Sam shrugged. 'Then I might as well go ter pub. But I've only got enough for a half.'
Maggie reached into her purse. 'Here you are, at least you can have a pint!'
'Thanks, pet.'
Until now he had been easy to put off, but Maggie sensed that soon he would become more demanding. Maybe she could do something about it. The other women at the factory talked freely about how they avoided unwanted pregnancies, and they would tell her where to go for help.
Before she could make any arrangements, though, she developed a streaming cold, and the foreman sent her home soon after dinnertime.
'Get into bed, have a hot drink, and stay there until you're better. We've a rush order on, and I don't want all the other women to catch whatever it is.'
Maggie was feeling wretched by the time she got to their rooms, but she ought to let Mrs Lloyd know she was back, and take the children upstairs.
She was just about to knock on the door to her landlady's downstairs rooms, when she heard someone screaming abuse, and children crying. Without further thought Maggie opened the door and rushed in, to find four children cowering in a corner while Mrs Lloyd, brandishing a stout walking stick, stood and shouted at them, her spittle showering them, and the end of the stick just missing their heads as she threatened them.
'What are you doing?' Maggie shouted, and the woman turned towards her, eyes glittering.
Then she lowered the stick, forced her lips to smile, and laughed.
'It's a game,' she said. 'They like to pretend I really am going to thrash them. Children enjoy being frightened. Don't you, my lambs?'
The children nodded dutifully, but Maggie didn't think they believed it.
'Well, I'm sent home early, so I'll take mine up with me. Thank you for taking such good care of them.'
Mrs Lloyd cast her a swift glance, then smiled. 'I do my best. Will I see them tomorrow?'
'No, I have a few days off work, so I can enjoy having them to myself for once.'
Maggie trudged up the stairs, her brief burst of energy evaporating as her cold, momentarily forgotten, returned, and she had a fit of uncontrollable sneezing. She managed to give the children their tea, and put them to bed, and then she lay down, shivering despite the blankets she'd heaped on top of herself, on the bed she shared with Sam in the kitchen.
'I won't leave them with her again,' she said to Sam when he came home. 'I'm sure she meant to hit them, whatever she says about it being a game.'
'Did you ask them?' Sam asked. 'If she's hurt them, I'll go down and show her what for!'
'Of course I asked them, but they said she only hit them by accident. Huh! The woman's mad!'
'Mad? Plain vicious, more like! I'll go and put the fear of God into her,' Sam said, turning towards the door.
'No, Sam! If you do she'll turn us out, and then what will we do?'
'Then yer'll have ter give up work and look after 'em.'
'No. I've been thinking, lying here. Mom ought ter come. There's room for her in with the kids. She can look after them. What I save paying Mrs Lloyd will cover Mom's keep.'
'There ain't room fer Kate as well!' he warned.
'I know, but our Kate can get on with her own life without having to work for the two of them. On her own she could do well. Perhaps she could rent a room nearby, be on her own, get a job here in Coventry, and have us to help if need be.'
*
Kate was exhausted. She spent every free hour trying to sell her wares, always the first in the Bull Ring each morning, but she had barely enough saved for the rent in two days time, and she couldn't go and redeem Alf's clothes. They'd soon be swinging on the pole along with all the others. She lay awake half the night wondering if she could pawn anything else, but they had so little, and it would only put off the problem, not solve it.
'Yer should ask yer posh friends fer a loan,' Hattie suggested. 'They wouldn't notice a few quid.'
'No,' Kate replied. Under no circumstances would she ever ask Daphne to help her. Last time it had caused no end of trouble, and she could not bear to endure anything like that again.
She thought Hattie had forgotten, but when she awoke, late for once after her restless night, Hattie had gone out.
Kate reached for the purse which she always kept under her pillow. It felt suspiciously thin, and she opened it swiftly. All but the coppers had gone. Kate buried her head in her hands. Surely her mother had not taken it while she slept? Hattie knew what difficulties they were having.
Wearily she prepared to go out. She couldn't afford not to, so any confrontation would have to wait for Hattie's return. If she had spent the money they were in real trouble.
Hattie was not there when Kate returned that evening, and Kate, not knowing what to do, whether to go and ask the police if they knew whether her mother had been wandering again, sat up until almost dawn waiting for news.
None came, and throughout Sunday Kate fretted. Then, around six o'clock, Hattie was brought home by yet another policeman.
'Wandering, out Walsall way,' the policeman explained, anxious to be gone. 'She's slept under a hedge by the looks of her. Yer needs ter keep a good eye on her. Some old 'uns get like this.'
Hattie's hair was loose and matted, her clothes rumpled and dirty with soil and leaves. She was shivering despite the day being warm, and Kate hurried her into bed without asking about the money. It was too late, tomorrow they'd be told to leave these rooms which had been her only home. For the first time Kate allowed herself to despair. She didn't know what more she could do.
Hattie had a ferocious cold the next morning, and her throat was so sore she could eat nothing. Perhaps as well, for there was nothing but a stale crust available, Kate thought.
Kate had searched her pockets after Hattie was in bed, but found no more than a sixpence, and if that had not been half way through a small hole Hattie would no doubt have spent it too, on drink or whatever else she found more important than keeping a roof over their heads. Well, if a miracle didn't happen, they'd both be sleeping under hedges, tramping the roads and begging for their food.
The landlady came for her rent on Monday at dinner time, when she saw Kate return with the barrow. As Kate expected, she said they had to leave if they could not pay it.
'You can have all I took at the market today, and I'll be able to give you my wages at the end of the week. Please let me stay a short while, Mum's ill,' Kate pleaded. 'I'll try to find somewhere else, but she's not fit to move.'
The woman insisted on seeing Hattie before she gave way. 'But you're ter be out be Saturday. If yer gives me all yer wages, what'll yer live on? I'm not a charity, I can't afford ter let yer stay.'
Recklessly Kate agreed. That gave her a few days, but what use they would be she couldn't think.
She saw Walter that morning. He came occasionally to ask how she did, and Kate was so desperate she told him what had happened.
'I can lend yer a bit,' he offered, and Kate shook her head.
'That's kind, but I don't think I could ever repay you.'
An hour later Walter was back, with Barny.
'Kate, Barny 'ere says some of the places in his road have bin cleared and boarded up. They'm gonna pull 'em down soon. Yer could get in one and no one would know if yer stayed at the back.'
'Not pay rent, you mean? That's stealing.'
'No it ain't,' Barny said. 'No one else wants it. Just fer a few weeks, 'til yer can save a bit and afford a proper room.'
Kate considered it. 'I can't see any other way.'
'No rent ter pay, yer'd be able ter save up an' find summat better soon,' Walter said, echoing Barney.
'I'd need some furniture, mattresses and a couple of chairs, a table. And coal. Is there a fireplace? But people would see the smoke, and be suspicious.'
'The chimneys are all tergether, and the place next door isn't boarded up, they ain't left yet. They'd think smoke came from that 'ouse. As fer coal, there's no end of old wood lyin' around.'
Kate nodded. 'I can't think what else to do.'
'I can borrow me Dad's cart ternight, push it there,' Barny said. 'And the one I'm thinkin' of, there's a shed at the back fer yer own barrow.'
*
Hattie grumbled, as usual, but Kate was ruthless, and told her it was all her own fault, they could have managed if she'd been sensible and helped instead of stealing all their money to waste on beer. Kate felt like a criminal, creeping through the back alley and into the back door of the house, where Barny had loosened a couple of the boards so that they could be pushed aside enough to squeeze through the opening.
She gradually filled her purse, but only with coppers, barely enough to live on. What she would do for more stock when she needed it she did not know. Perhaps she ought to abandon all her hopes of starting her own business and try for a better-paid job now that she could hope for a reference. She'd give it another week and then, if things didn't improve, she'd try once more to find a different job.
Ten days after they moved in Hattie, who had not ventured outside, once more vanished early one morning. Kate, exhausted from doing two jobs, had slept late. She flung herself back on the mattress they shared, and decided that this time she'd had enough. There was nothing she could do except wait, but this time, would the police bring Hattie back here? If they did, what sort of trouble would they be in? Would they be charged with trespass, or even theft?
There was nothing she could do, so she went to the market. When Kate came back at dinner time to change before going to the cinema, and heard tentative footsteps on the path outside the back door, she froze. Then she relaxed as she heard Hattie's voice. At least she was safe.
'Come in, Mrs Carstairs. It's no palace, like yer own glorious residence, but it's home to me and poor Kate, all she can afford fer me, after all I've done ter keep the kid at yer posh school.'
Hattie tugged the boards aside, and scrambled through the hole. She held them back, and to her utter horror Kate saw Mrs Carstairs follow Hattie inside, blinking at the gloom.
'Kate, my dear, are you here? I can't see.'
'Mrs Carstairs! Let me light a candle. It's always dark in here, we have to keep the windows covered.'
Mrs Carstairs looked round, and at Hattie's invitation sat in one of the two chairs. Hattie took the other, apologising volubly for the lack of tea.
Kate scrambled awkwardly to her feet. 'You shouldn't have come here! It's not fitting!'
'Nor is it for you to have to live here. Kate, it's all my fault! Daphne told me what she'd done. The reference, I mean. I shouldn't have been so hasty to accuse you. And it was grossly unfair of me to dismiss Maggie. I can't apologise enough! But she'd gone, and your old landlady could not tell me where you'd moved. I was at a stand until your mother came to see me today.'
Kate was speechless. Hattie smiled and nodded graciously.
'I'm sure Kate will forgive you, Maggie too. My daughters were brought up to be polite to their betters.'
'I hear Maggie is doing well in Coventry? I don't have her address, but I want to offer her some compensation for lost wages. Can you tell me where she is living?'
'Yes. I'll write it down, if you have any paper,' Kate managed.
'I'll take the money with me when I go to visit Maggie,' Hattie offered, and Kate shook her head vehemently.
'No! You'll – you'll lose it! Mrs Carstairs, can I speak to you outside? Please?'
Hattie glared at her. 'I suppose yer'll be accusin' me of stealing it, like yer says I stole yer money,' she cried.
'Well, you did, or we wouldn't have been in this dreadful state!' Kate flared, losing her temper suddenly.
'Would your sister be able to help your mother, Kate? If I gave her something to – shall we say – ease the problems?'
'They only have two rooms, and there are seven of them.'
'Then perhaps they can rent another room with what I will give them. Do you want to go too, and get a job there?'
Kate shook her head. 'No. I have a job now. That is, I'm grateful, but I don't want to risk being a burden on Maggie, if I can't find a job there.'
'A job? Tell me? Is it one you enjoy?'
'I work in the afternoons and evenings as an usherette, and in the mornings I sell small items from a market barrow. It brings in enough for us to live. We – er – lost some, but we'll soon make up for it, be able to move back to decent rooms.'
'You can't enjoy doing that, and you look utterly drained. I have another suggestion. An acquaintance of mine, who has a shop in Sutton Coldfield, needs someone to help. They will provide a room too, in their own house at Oscott. They are good people, their son was at school with Norman. If I suggest you they will take you in.'
It seemed like a dream come true to Kate. Hattie would be cared for, no longer her sole responsibility, and she would be free, with a pleasant job and a home, to live her own life. Perhaps her dreams would come true after all.
'I – yes, please, that sounds wonderful! I don't know how to thank you!'
'No need. Rather I should be thanking you for giving me the opportunity to make amends. Now, we'll take a cab back to Edgbaston, Mr Carstairs will drive your mother over to Coventry tomorrow, you shall stay with me a few more days and I will see you are properly fitted out for your new job.'
***