by Irene Carr
‘Aye, in a minute.’ Matt wondered what the hell the woman was doing now.
Katy held the sleeping Louise in one arm while the other was around Mrs Gates and both of them were crying. Then Katy kissed her: ‘Thank you.’ She ran across the glistening wet pavement to climb up onto the cart. Matt’s hand on her arm steadied her while half-lifting her into her seat.
The cry followed her, ‘Come and see me sometimes!’ ‘I will,’ Katy replied.
‘Good luck!’
Matt thought, I’ll need it. Then he twitched the reins and the horse set off, nodding his head and pulling the cart through the driving rain.
At the yard, Matt carried the pram and case upstairs to the flat, while Katy took off her coat and Bea’s and hung them up to dry. Matt saw with relief that the little girl had attached herself to Katy. He also glanced at Louise, now lying in the pram, awake and watchful. From her his gaze shifted to the dark loveliness of this stranger and he said, ‘With that blonde hair and those blue eyes she must take after her father.’
That much resemblance was clear and Katy smiled, ‘Yes.’ But she could not believe her daughter could grow up like Howard Ross, not her child.
Matt said, ‘I’m going to bed down the Sergeant.’ And when Katy looked at him blankly, he explained, ‘The horse.’
‘Oh! I see.’ But she did not. Why Sergeant?
Katy spent the rest of the evening unpacking and settling in. She expected Matt to return before long but while she soon heard him below in the office, he did not come up to the flat. At the end of two hours she had put Louise into her pram to sleep. Then she told a story to a chattering Bea until she had finally yielded and was silent in one of the two beds. Katy washed up all the dirty dishes and also investigated the cupboards, established her resources and made some plans.
She made a pot of tea and ran lightly down the stairs. Matt sat at the desk, head bowed over a small notebook and writing on a scrap of paper. Katy asked, ‘I’ve made some tea. Would you like a cup?’ And as he looked up from his work, blinking, she offered, ‘Shall I bring it down?’
‘No, thanks.’ He glanced down at the paper then closed the notebook and stowed it in his jacket pocket. ‘I was just making up my route for tomorrow from the order book, but I’ve finished now. I’ll come up.’
He followed her up the stairs and they sat on opposite sides of the table, sipping the tea from thick china mugs. Katy was aware of his eyes on her. Assessing? She was aware that she had not put up her hair again, that the dress she wore was a good one, donned that morning to impress potential employers but now damp and creased. She wished she could look at herself in a mirror — but then was glad she could not.
Matt was abstracted, wondering how this woman and this new arrangement would affect the business — and his life. He thought she might help a little in the office but was not impressed by her qualifications because he had a poor opinion of the Spargos — when he had seen their yard it had been a mess. Still, if she could care for Bea and take the little girl off his hands so he could get on with his work . . . He remembered then and asked, ‘Where’s Bea?’
‘In bed and asleep, with Louise alongside in her pram,’ Katy answered.
Matt stared in surprise. ‘Already? She keeps on getting up when I put her to bed.’ Katy smiled but made no answer to that. His gaze went to the bedroom door and he murmured absently, half to himself, ‘I need to get some bedding out of the cupboard in there.’
Katy said quickly, ‘I got some for you. It’s hanging on the clothes horse, airing.’ She pointed to where the horse stood by the fire.
‘Then I’ll go to bed.’ Matt stood up from his chair.
Katy asked, ‘Is there anything in particular that you want me to do tomorrow?’
Matt ran a hand through his hair and yawned, ‘No, I don’t think so. I’ve got the paperwork up to date.’
Katy thought, You did it during the last two hours. And: He doesn’t trust me to do it. So when Matt picked up his bedding and made for the stairs she said only, ‘Good night.’
As he replied he thought that she had sounded starchy. He made his bed under the counter in the office and turned off the gaslight. He wondered if he had made a terrible mistake, and thought that he was already in enough trouble before the woman came. Now he was committed to supporting her and her child, at least until she found a job and a place of her own. But he didn’t see what else he could have done. And he had work to do the next day. He turned over and soon slept.
Katy lay in bed and listened to his movements in the office below. She sensed his antipathy and guessed he was uneasy about her being there. He was judging her when he did not know her and that angered her. But he had taken in her and Louise, when he was in dire straits himself. She could hardly blame him for having doubts. But tomorrow she would show him.
Louise woke her early the next morning, a hungry mewing. Katy saw the weather had changed dramatically in the night. In place of the rain there was a clear, hard blue sky and there was frost on the windows. She pulled her coat on over her nightdress against the cold; she had no dressing-gown. Then she took her daughter into the kitchen where it was warmer. The fire that Matt had banked up with coaldust the previous night was just burning itself through and out, a bed of glowing embers. Katy put on more coal then sat down in one of the armchairs, changed and fed the baby and put her back in the pram. Beatrice still slept but Katy could hear sounds of movement in the yard below. She rubbed frost from a window and looked out. Matt was harnessing the horse and Katy thought, Why Sergeant? But then she scurried to wash and dress.
She was just in time to answer Matt when he called from the foot of the stairs, ‘Can I come up?’ He kept his tone soft but there was an edge of impatience in it. He was eager to be on his way and it irked him to have to wait to climb the stairs because decorum had to be maintained. When he was on his own he could do as he liked . . .
Katy answered, ‘Yes! I’m just cooking breakfast.’ And in truth, the bacon was in the pan and that was set on the fire. She whisked about the kitchen while Matt blew on his hands and held them out to the blaze. Katy said, ‘It’s cold out there, this morning. Haven’t you a pair of gloves?’
He shook his head. ‘The old pair wore out and I haven’t had the chance to buy another.’
Katy thought, Or the money? But she knew his pride would not let him admit that. And it must have been humiliating for him to have to confess his poverty to her the night before. She was getting to know this young man, so she dropped the subject. And at that point Beatrice emerged from the bedroom in her nightie, complaining, ‘I don’t want to go on the cart again.’
Katy wrapped her in her dressing-gown and plumped her on an armchair. ‘You’re not going on the cart. You’re staying with me and looking after Louise.’ Then she served Matt his breakfast and started on that of Beatrice. She asked Matt, ‘Will you be coming in at dinnertime?’ By that she meant the main meal at midday.
He shook his head. ‘I’ll take a sandwich with me and have my dinner when I finish tonight.’
‘I’ll make some for you.’ And she did so, with bread and some rather hard cheese, then wrapped them in a clean tea towel; she had found a supply of them in a drawer.
Matt noticed and said, ‘They were in Joe Docherty’s house. I brought them along to clean this place.’
Katy reflected that she had found them just in time. As he stood up she asked, ‘Have you had enough?’
‘Aye, I’ve fed well.’
Beatrice put in, ‘We usually just have bread and jam.’
Matt scowled at her but admitted, ‘What you’ve just cooked was for Sunday, but I can get some more.’ This was Friday.
Katy said quickly, ‘No, I’ll see to that.’
He bit his lip then said, ‘I think we need to buy some grub, for dinner and so on. I’ve been doing it when I could.’ Katy knew food was needed from her investigation of the cupboards, but held her tongue. Matt dug in his pocket and came out with some silver
and copper. He counted coins out onto the table, two shillings and sixpence, then asked, ‘Will that be enough?’
Katy saw he had only a few coppers left, and answered, ‘Oh, yes.’
He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and said, ‘I’ll be back tonight.’ Then he was gone, waving a hand as he ran down the stairs. Katy called after him, ‘Goodbye.’ Then she went on with her work, but thoughtfully. She knew she would have to earn her keep in this place. Matt could only support her and Louise if she put something in by way of exchange. She was determined she would. When Beatrice finished her breakfast Katy ate hers — but only bread and jam.
Katy spent the day in a whirlwind of work. She had spotted a clothes line strung, sagging, between two posts behind the office. Investigating further, with five-year-old Beatrice by her side asking questions, she found a little washhouse at the back of the office, with copper, mangle, poss stick and tub. Katy stooped to pull open the door under the boiler and peer inside.
Beatrice stooped beside her and asked ‘Why are you looking in there?’
‘To make sure it’s empty. I’m going to light a fire in there and boil some water.’ Katy stopped there to let Beatrice get her question in.
It came: ‘Why?’
‘It’s a fine day so I’m going to do a load of washing.’ Then anticipating as Beatrice opened her mouth, ‘Because it needs doing.’
There was a tap on the outside wall of the washhouse and she used a bucket to fill the boiler from this. She started the fire by digging a shovelful of glowing coals from the fire in the kitchen and carrying them down to the boiler. Then she topped them up with fresh coal. While she waited for the water to boil she tidied the flat and collected all the dirty clothes she could find. There was an old woollen cardigan of hers which now had holes in it. She decided it would serve a purpose and put it with the rest. At the end of a morning spent possing the clothes with the stick, scrubbing and mangling she had a line full of washing that flapped and cracked in a stiff breeze. And somehow on the way she had fed Louise and managed to keep Beatrice amused. She thought that, after a cup of tea, she would just have time to go to the shops.
Katy knew from her search for work that the nearest were in Dundas Street, five minutes walk away. She found them busy, with a butcher, grocer and greengrocer. She spent two shillings out of the money given her, the two largest items being a pound each of meat and bacon pieces — cheaper than the full rashers. As she moved from shop to shop, with Louise in her arms and Beatrice trailing along by her side, there was a succession of demands: ‘I want some sweets . . . that dolly . . . chocolate . . .’ Katy refused them all, partly because the money was not hers to spend but also because she had a feeling Beatrice had been used to getting whatever caught her eye. The little girl was mutinous and sulking but Katy jollied her along as they walked back to the yard: ‘Do you want to help feed Louise?’
That cheered Beatrice: ‘Can I?’
‘And then we’ll have a game.’
‘What game?’
‘You’ll see.’
‘Tell me!’
‘Guess.’
‘Skipping?’
‘That’s one.’
‘Is there another?’
‘Lots.’
Beatrice said forlornly, ‘I don’t know any more.’
Katy paused, stricken, and looked down at her: ‘Don’t you?’ And when Beatrice shook her head, ‘Well, I’ll teach you.’
So when Louise had been fed and put to bed in her pram, Katy prepared a thick stew and set it in the oven to cook, then led Beatrice out into the yard. There was a rectangle of concrete by the stable where the Dennis had stood. Katy swept it clean of straw, stones and oil then grinned at a watching Beatrice, ‘We’ll start with itchy-dobber.’ She hitched up her skirts, and with an empty boot polish tin, demonstrated the art of hopscotch.
Katy had left a window open so she would hear if Louise woke and cried but she only returned to the flat in the dusk with a grubby, tired and quiet Beatrice by her side. Katy carried a basket filled with the washing from the line and told Beatrice, ‘Now we’re going to play: ‘Helping with the ironing.’ She did it on the table, using the smoothing iron heated on the fire, and with the pram close by so she could watch and talk to her tiny daughter.
With the ironing done she descended to the office and set about dusting and tidying the desk — the room itself, she decided, would be a full day’s job. She glanced through the books and saw how they were made up and how the business was run. She also saw that a lot of work was done for very little payment. Matt’s blankets lay under the counter as he had left them that morning. She made up his bed there again before climbing the stairs with Beatrice, replying absently to the child’s chatter while deep in thought.
The thoughts were not cheering and all through what was left of that afternoon she wondered when Matt Ballard would return — and would he have changed his mind and decided he did not want to be bothered with her.
It was dark when he drove the horse and cart into the yard. Katy saw him from a window of the flat where she was keeping watch. She hurriedly dressed Beatrice in her coat then ran down the stairs as she pulled on her own. Matt found her, breathless, at his elbow as he lit a lantern to hang up at the stable door. Katy panted, ‘I’ll help you to finish out here.’ Then she asked, ‘Was it a good day?’
Matt nodded and replied, briefly as usual, ‘Aye.’
Katy said brightly, ‘Oh, grand.’
He watched her for a while as they both worked at the stabling of the horse. He saw that she was quick on her feet, deft with her fingers and knew what she was doing. He knew she would have learned at the Spargo yard. He listened to her seemingly light-hearted talk: ‘. . . and we played itchydobber. Didn’t we, Bea? Then we got in the washing and ironed it . .
He made his monosyllabic replies, but then as she paused for a second, he asked, ‘Are you trying to get round me?’
They were in the darkness of the stable now, talking over the back of the horse, their faces only half-lit by the lantern. Katy was silent for a moment, stroking the back of the horse. Then she looked up to meet Matt’s gaze and answered honestly, ‘I was trying to — please you.’
He said, ‘You don’t have to. I thought I made that clear.’
Katy winced at the rebuff. ‘Yes, you did.’
‘That’s all right, then,’ said Matt, relieved.
But it wasn’t. They worked on in silence and when finished returned to the flat. Katy served the meal and Matt ate heartily, but she managed only half of her small helping. Afterwards he sat by the fire and immersed himself in the newspaper; he had brought home a copy of the Sunderland Daily Echo. Katy returned to her room and fed Louise then laid her down to sleep in the pram. Beatrice followed soon, after Katy had told her a story.
As Katy came out of the bedroom and closed the door, Matt lowered the paper and said, ‘Bea seems a lot quieter — and more cheerful.’
Katy answered only, ‘Yes.’ She sat down and picked up some sewing she had seen needed doing when she was ironing. Her head bent over it.
Matt laid the paper aside. ‘You’re quiet tonight, too.’ ‘Yes.’
‘I suppose that’s because of what I said when we were putting the Sergeant to bed?’
Katy thought he cared more for the Sergeant than he did for her. She saw wry humour in that and almost smiled. But she also understood it. She had only been there for twenty-four hours while the Sergeant had been Matt’s workmate and companion for months. She answered again, ‘Yes.’
‘Well, I don’t mind you talking but I don’t want you to think you have to.’
Katy laid down the sewing and faced him. ‘I didn’t talk because I thought I had to but because I wanted to please you. You’ve been good to us, me and my baby, giving us a place to live. I want to earn my keep and I know I can’t, can I? If I cook and clean and care for Beatrice, I am still taking money out of your pocket, not bringing it in.’ Matt stared at this summing up. Katy
demanded, ‘That’s true, isn’t it?’
Matt nodded.
Katy took a breath, then asked, ‘Can I run the office for you? I still wouldn’t be making money but at least it would leave you more time to work outside.’ She could cope with Louise, who slept a lot of the time, and Beatrice would be back in school after the holidays.
There was an edge of exasperation in Matt’s voice when he replied. This woman, though well-meaning, was wanting to interfere with his routine, change his organisation. ‘You can try, but I won’t be able to show you the ropes for a while.’ He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece, then returned to Katy. ‘I have to go out tonight. I expect I’ll be back late so don’t worry if you hear me downstairs.’
‘Very well.’ Katy’s head was bent over her sewing again. Matt fetched his suit and other clothes from the bedroom, going on tiptoe so as not to wake the children, then washed and dressed downstairs in the washhouse.
He returned briefly to the head of the stairs to say, ‘If Bea wakes and asks for me, tell her I’ve gone to see Fleur.’ Katy looked up, questioningly, ‘Fleur?’
‘That’s right. The young lady I’m engaged to, Fleur Ecclestone.’ Then he was gone, running down the stairs.
Katy thought, Fleur. Engaged. And: She’s welcome to him. But then she thought that, when he married this Fleur, he would bring her to the flat and she would care for Beatrice. There would be no place for Katy and Louise. She tried to put that fear out of her mind, telling herself that there was no sign of a wedding yet. But thoughts of its consequences were to haunt her through the coming months.
Now she saw he had left his notebook on the table. It was his order book in which he kept a record of the jobs he had to do. Katy read through the entries, pencilled but neatly written, and at the end she had a good idea of the planned pattern of his work for the next week or two. And of the gaps when he would be seeking work. She made her own list of those then put the book back on the table.
