by Irene Carr
*
On Saturday morning, Matt and Katy drove round to the Spargo yard in the new Dennis, with Katy at the wheel and the two children sitting on Matt’s knees. The gates were closed and a disconsolate group of men were gathered around them. Katy said, ‘That’s a good half of their men. There’s Ernie Thompson.’ He slouched among the others, haggard and worried. Another man, better dressed in a neat suit, straw boater and carrying a walking cane, stood reading a notice tacked to one of the gates.
Matt and Katy got down and Matt asked innocently of the group in general, ‘Aren’t they open today?’
The man with the cane glanced over his shoulder, then stepped aside. He said curtly, ‘The blighters have skipped.’ He tapped the notice with the head of his cane. Matt read it, Katy peering over his shoulder with Louise on her hip and holding the hand of Beatrice.
Matt turned to her, ‘They’ve gone. It gives the address of their yard in Yorkshire and apologises for any inconvenience.’
‘That’s no damned use to me!’ The cane tapped at the notice again. ‘I’m ready to move and Spargos were supposed to have a van at my house first thing this morning — nearly two hours ago. I came round to complain about the delay because I want the job done! I don’t want it dragging on until Monday! I have work to do!’
Matt turned to the others and asked, ‘What about you?’
One of the men shrugged gloomily. ‘Arthur paid us off. He took the drivers ‘cause they had to drive the lorries to Yorkshire, but he’s only keeping a few of them there. The rest of them are coming back on the train on account of they don’t want to work down there.’
Katy whispered to Matt. He stared at her for several seconds, then nodded. Turning to the group, he said, ‘I’m Matt Ballard. I’ve got a little haulage business across the river in Monkwearmouth. I need a man now and I’m taking on Ernie Thompson.’ Katy saw Ernie lift his head, his surprise and then the relief flooding into his face. Matt went on, ‘I’ll take the names and addresses of the rest of you and if I find work for you later on, I’ll let you know.’ Then he turned on the cane-wielder: ‘And if you’ll tell me what job you want doing, I’ll get on with it.’
‘What — now?’ He pushed back his straw boater with his cane and stared doubtfully at Matt.
Matt said firmly, ‘Now.’
As they drove back to their own yard, Matt said, ‘I’m wondering what you’ve let me in for.’
Katy, her hands on the wheel, her eyes on the road, smiled. ‘We’ll be getting a lot of extra work now the Spargos have gone.’
Matt agreed, ‘I can see that. We’ll be able to use Ernie. But all the rest?’
‘You won’t have to take on all the rest.’ Katy hesitated, casting about for tactful phrasing: ‘If you like — the decision will be yours, of course — I can suggest who would be best for us.’
‘Ah! Now I see.’ Matt nodded. ‘You know them all.’ Katy did: the workers and shirkers, the ones with common sense and the feckless. Matt smiled happily, ‘Right. We’ll do it that way. We’re going to be busy, partner.’
They were both laughing, in boisterous mood, when Katy swung the Dennis into the yard. She got down from the wheel and took the children as Matt passed them across to her. He followed them to take his place in the driver’s seat, but then leaned down from the cab to kiss the top of her head. ‘I’ll see you later.’
He drove off to do the job for the cane-wielder and Katy watched him go, smiling. But she was relieved that he had gone. If he had stayed she might have hugged him and that would have led to trouble. She reminded herself of her vow, never to be taken in by a man again. She was a partner with this one in a business venture, no more than that. She must not let her happiness lead her into another awful mistake. Still, the happiness was there and she sang as she walked back to the office with the children. Ivor was still fresh in her memory but she was sure he would recede with the passing of the days, as Howard Ross had done. He was almost forgotten now, like some long past bad dream.
*
Howard Ross had not forgotten her. He was thinking of Katy at that very moment as he walked by the Tyne in Newcastle. A police sergeant with a young constable in tow pointed out the man in the expensive suit with the rings on his fingers: ‘See him?’
‘The young toff?
The sergeant nodded. ‘That’s him. Ralph Norgren.
He’s a pimp and he’s violent. We can’t get anything on him because no witness will testify. They’re frightened of him. Still, one of these days . . But that was said more in hope than in confidence.
Howard was thinking that one day he would look up that Merrick girl. Her child — that was his — would be two years old soon. He cared nothing for the child but that Katy was a juicy piece. He had sweet memories of her seduction and she would make good money on the streets. Another meeting might be amusing, or profitable, or both. One day . . .
Chapter Fifteen
MONKWEARMOUTH. MARCH 1914.
‘Matthew! Matthew! Aahh! Matthew!’ Fleur let out a shuddering, rapturous sigh. She lay naked in Matt’s arms. She had taken him into her bed some months ago, all part of her plan for binding him to her. At first she feigned being shy and virginal, but soon became adoring and passionate. Fleur pretended innocence but knew exactly what she was doing and how to avoid consequences. An elderly struck off doctor with salacious tastes had schooled her in that when she succumbed to his advances — at a price. The affair was ended by the heart attack which killed him, leaving Fleur to find another bedmate.
Now she lay spent in Matt’s arms. On these occasions her mother was dispatched to the theatre. Mrs Ecclestone went reluctantly because of her increasing ill health, but she was too weak to argue with her daughter.
Fleur murmured, ‘It isn’t long to our wedding day. Then we’ll always be together, my darling.’ She had named a day in June, had waited this long because she wanted a place in society so her wedding would be handsomely attended and recorded. Fleur knew the places to be seen and the people with whom to be seen. With Matt as her escort and his money to pay their way, they now moved in the town’s social circles.
Matt had come a long way in a little less than two years. Since the Spargos left, his haulage business had expanded rapidly. Fleur knew he had five lorries — or was it six? She was not sure but always said, ‘My fiancé runs a fleet of lorries.’ She was sure he was making a lot of money and that she had been clever to select him and cultivate him. It was a bore when he talked about his work, but her best investment by far.
By the time Fleur’s mother was due to return they were seated decorously in the sitting-room, as she had left them. Fleur asked of Matt, ‘Have you been to the house lately, darling?’ She smiled sweetly and stroked his hand because the house had almost caused a rift between them. Fleur had asked for a place in Ashbrooke, one of the best parts of the town, a house much larger and more expensive to rent than Matt was prepared to pay for. He had earlier insisted on buying the freehold of the yard and its buildings and was adamant he could not afford to take on such a big house. Fleur had seen his determination and silently cursed, but settled for another house, still in Ashbrooke but smaller and so at a lower rent.
‘No,’ Matt replied now, ‘I’ve not been there since the decorators moved in.’
‘I wish you would, darling,’ cooed Fleur. ‘I called in yesterday and the fat man with the big moustache—’
Matt put in: ‘The foreman.’
‘Yes. He said some of the things we wanted done were extra to the original agreement. He said they would cost more. That’s really too bad. Some of these tradesmen think of nothing but money.’
Matt questioned, ‘Which extra things?’
‘Oh, I asked for a different wallpaper in two of the rooms and for the bath to be moved. He went on about having to bring in a plumber.’ Fleur took Matt’s face in her hands and kissed him. ‘Shall I come round to the yard in a cab tomorrow afternoon and we can go to the house together? Please?’
Matt smiled fondly, thinking that a young girl like Fleur, with a sheltered upbringing, could not be expected to understand these things. Of course.’ If the foreman was trying to wangle some pocket money out of the job then Matt would settle his hash.
Fleur refused to think of Matt as a tradesman. She would mention in conversation: ‘My fiancé is a haulage contractor.’ Then going on to explain: ‘He has to earn his living — a younger son, you know.’ Thus suggesting that Matt was of landed gentry but without the benefit of inheriting an estate.
Fleur’s mother returned, looking tired and ill. Her daughter contrived to be smiling and patient with her until Matt had gone, then she rounded on the old woman: ‘For God’s sake! You’ve just been out to enjoy yourself! What’s the matter with you now!’
*
Katy was up and about early the next day. When Matt climbed the stairs from the office where he slept she was waiting to set his breakfast before him. Beatrice, seated opposite and ready for school, called, ‘Good morning, Uncle Matt.’ Louise, alongside her, copied, ‘Good mornin’, Unca Matt.’
As he ate Matt told Katy, ‘I’m going up to the house this afternoon with Fleur; I have to settle an argument with the foreman decorator. But I’ll be around the yard the rest of the day because I have a service to do.’ Matt serviced all the lorries — there were four more now —himself.
Katy was down in the office, at work at her desk, when the men came into the yard to start the day. There were four drivers, each with a mate to accompany him, and help load and unload, and Ernie Thompson who was a general labourer working around the yard, Katy gave them their orders through the open window and one by one the engines burst into life, roared with acceleration then settled to a steady beat. They were all three-ton Dennis lorries, bought under the War Office Subsidy Scheme. And all were busy every working day except when they were off the road for servicing. Katy kept the servicing records up to date. She watched with pride as they drove out through the gates. She reflected that Matt — and herself — had done miraculously well. In less than a year they had built up the business from one lorry to five. They had taken most of the Spargos’ clients and most of their men. Katy told herself she should be happy, but she was not.
There was Fleur. In the two-and-a-half years since Katy came to the yard she had not met Matt’s fiancée face to face. Fleur had occasionally visited the place but had rarely got down from the cab which brought her. She had never seen Katy, who had kept out of the way. Katy had watched Fleur from a distance, read of her in the newspapers when they listed those present at some social function, and heard of her, endlessly, from Matt. He was obviously in love with Fleur, and happy. Katy told herself she was glad, but . . . She knew nothing wrong about this sweet-smiling girl but still distrusted her. She thought that it was no longer down to fear. It had been her constant worry for so long, that when Matt married Fleur they would move into the flat, or Fleur would take Beatrice, that there would be no place for Katy and Louise. But now it cost her no sleep because if need be, she could rent a flat or house for her and Louise — though she still did not relish the thought of losing Beatrice to Fleur. Katy sighed. She just could not take to Matthew’s fiancée and did not know why.
Matt clumped into the office, returned from a visit to the bank. He dropped the paying-in book on the desk, took off the jacket of his suit and pulled on overalls. ‘I’m off to do that service now. Any chance of a cup of tea later on?’
Katy laughed up at him, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her an affectionate, brotherly squeeze. Then he was gone, striding across the yard. Katy watched him until he entered the garage and was lost to sight. She turned back to the day’s post. Matt no longer asked if she had heard from her distant sailor husband. Six months earlier she had told him that her husband had written saying that he was finished with her and would not be returning home. Matt had been sympathetic and never mentioned the matter again. That ‘husband’ was now a part of her past like the other men in her life.
Katy worked quickly, filing, invoicing, posting receipts, logging jobs in the order book, slotting them into the schedules for the days ahead, talking into the telephone which now stood on the desk. Louise had gone to stay with Annie Scanlon for the day while Beatrice was at school. At mid-morning Katy climbed the stairs to the flat, brewed a pot of tea and carried two mugs across to the garage. Matt had his head under the engine cowling but he pulled it out when Katy called, ‘Matt! Tea!’
He took one of the mugs and grinned down at her, ‘Thanks.’
‘How are you getting on?’ Katy peered at the engine.
Matt laughed, ‘Are you thinking of taking over the servicing now?’ Katy had already persuaded him to teach her routine maintenance such as checking oil and water. The men had stared at her, incredulous as she worked on the engine. Katy joined in Matt’s laughter now and stayed on, talking as she sipped her tea.
*
Fleur stared out of the window of the motor taxi at the passing traffic, day-dreaming contentedly. She thought that life was very good and congratulated herself on her choice of Matt as a husband. She had been unsure of him for a while when the haulage business hit rock bottom after the death of Joe Docherty but Matt had recovered spectacularly. Soon they would be married, though she was in no hurry and enjoying her freedom.
Matt had been sympathetic and generous when she had hinted delicately at her straitened circumstances as the daughter of a widow living on a small annuity. Fleur would not ‘lower herself’ by taking a job, but explained to Matt: ‘I would like to work but I feel it would be selfish to leave mother to manage on her own. She isn’t well, as you know.’
Matt felt sorry for her. She could not openly accept money from the man to whom she was engaged because that would make her no better than a kept woman. So instead he secretly supplied her with the cash she wanted for clothes — and the pursuit of leisure. She could afford to travel to Durham to meet Anthony, the black sheep of a good family, with extravagant tastes but no money. Fleur had succeeded in catching his eye when she visited the city to escape from one of those long days of boredom spent with her mother. Anthony would indulge himself and her with Matt’s money. Fleur even paid for the hotel room they shared.
She smiled reminiscently. But now was the time to make sure of Matt. Besides, there was no reason why she should give up Anthony — or Denys, in York, whose attentions were becoming pressing. He would not wait much longer. There would be time for both of them. Matt spent long days in that yard of his.
And here it was. The cab puttered in at the open gates and stopped. Fleur got down and ordered the driver, ‘Wait here, please.’ She could hear Matt’s deep laugh coming from the garage and she walked towards it. Then she heard more laughter, light and happy, a girl’s laughter. Unthinkingly she quickened her pace and came to the garage. Matt stood with his back to her while the girl was at his side and turned towards him so Fleur saw her in profile. She was dark, slender and young — Fleur judged her to be in her early twenties. She was flushed, pretty and smiling up at Matt. Then she saw Fleur from the corner of her eye and turned to face her, the smile slipping away.
Matt turned, grinning, and said, ‘Hello, Fleur, I wasn’t expecting you till this afternoon.’
‘So I see.’ Fleur’s tone was icy, but inside she burned with rage and suspicion. She nodded at Katy: ‘Who is this — person?’
Matt was surprised, ‘This is Katy. You know, Katy Merrick. I’ve told you about her lots of times.’
So he had. Fleur remembered him talking of a seaman’s wife who acted as his clerk. She had pictured someone like the blowsy women coming out of dockside pubs with their men at closing time. Or a drab mouse with steel-rimmed spectacles, her lips moving as she totted up her figures. This girl was not like that.
Matt said cheerfully, ‘Well, now you’re here I’ll wash off this oil, get out of these overalls and we’ll be off to the house. Why don’t you have a cup of tea
while I’m doing that. Katy, will you trot up to the flat and make a cup for Fleur, please?’
Fleur asked, ‘She uses the flat?’ Not liking the idea.
She liked Matt’s answer even less: ‘Katy lives in the flat. That’s why she came to work here, to put a roof over the heads of her and Louise. I let them have the flat and Katy looks after Beatrice and does the office work.’ He saw from her stony face what she was thinking and sought to reassure her: ‘It’s perfectly respectable. Katy lives in the flat and I live in the office. That’s no different to other people living in rooms next door to each other. And Katy is a decent married woman.’
Fleur did not believe him and it was written in her face. Katy saw it. Flushing with embarrassment, she broke in: ‘Please, Mr Ballard, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work—’ She almost ran past Fleur, out of the garage, across the yard and up to the flat. There she sat down at the kitchen table, her face in her hands.
Matt stared after her as she fled and he was angry when he turned back to Fleur. ‘That was a nasty insinuation.’ Fleur denied, ‘I didn’t insinuate anything.’
‘The way you looked—’
‘The way I looked,’ Fleur cut in, ‘was surprised — that you didn’t see how this might appear to other people.’ She had decided quickly how to present this to him. She would not play the part of the jealous, suspicious wife, but she would put a stop to this affair. know it’s innocent because I love and trust you. But others will see a successful young businessman living, not in a house, but in the office below the young woman he employs. Oh, I know people live quite respectably in rooms side by side, but they aren’t occupying your station in life. To put it simply, to them it is commonplace, but you are not one of them. I don’t know about this Katy, though I’m sure she is the decent young woman you say she is, but that still does not alter the case.’ Fleur laid a hand on his sleeve and pleaded, ‘Don’t you see, my darling?’
