Katy's Men

by Irene Carr

  He found the office key hidden in the crack between doorstep and door and let himself in. The air was stuffy so he opened the window, then dusted off the chair with his handkerchief and sat down at the desk. The books, accounts and bank statements were in a drawer and he set them out on the desk and began to read.

  As the morning wore on the picture steadily fell into shape like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. He saw how Katy had worked to keep the business going and how it had failed. He also saw where the money had gone. He sat with his head in his hands. Loyalty and duty had always been the keystones of his life. He had married Fleur out of love but now the love was gone. The duty remained but that was all.

  He looked up and remembered Katy sitting at this desk, or out there, crossing the yard, slender and graceful and laughing. He sighed and wrote her a formal little note asking if he could see her when passing through London on his way back to his regiment. He posted it on the way back to his house.

  Arrived there, he sought Fleur and the maid answered him, ‘Madam is still in bed, sir.’

  Matt asked, ‘How much does — madam — pay you?’ ‘Seven shillings a week, sir.’

  ‘Pack your belongings and go home. There’s a week’s notice and a bit besides.’ He gave her ten shillings.

  ‘Ooh! Thank you, sir.’ This was not the girl Katy had seen, and there had been others filling the post of maid since then. But this one, like her predecessors, had had enough of Fleur and Dawkins and was working her notice. A friend of hers worked in a factory for a pound a week and had told her there was a job for her if she wanted it.

  Five minutes later, Matt walked into Fleur’s room without knocking. She started up in bed, her nightdress slipping off one shoulder, and asked querulously, ‘What d’you mean by barging in here—’

  ‘I’m your husband and we need to talk.’ Matt stood over her. ‘There are going to be some changes. For a start, I’ve just paid off the maid and the cook.’

  ‘What! Fleur hitched at the strap of the nightdress and threw off the covers to get out of bed. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘I went down to the yard this morning.’ Something in his tone made Fleur shut her mouth and as he took a pace towards her she retreated. He continued, ‘I read through the accounts of the business, the books and bank statements. They can’t lie and they tell a different story from the one you told me last night. You’ve milked that business, my business, dry. I left you an adequate allowance on top of the allowance from my Army pay and you’ve frittered it all away and demanded more. God knows what you spent it on but I can guess and anyway, it’s gone. There’ll be no more money from the yard.’

  Fleur gaped at him, ‘What do you mean — gone? The yard is still there. Isn’t it?’

  Matt snapped impatiently, Of course it is! But you wouldn’t know because you only went there when it suited you. The business closed down nearly six months ago. It hasn’t made a penny since then.’

  Fleur attempted to shift the blame. ‘That little bitch, Katy! She’s had the money!’

  Matt shook his head contemptuously. ‘No, she hasn’t. It’s clear where the money went. Katy authorised the bank to increase your allowance out of her share of the firm, so long as it lasted. She used the firm’s capital to pay your damned allowance! Now it’s finished. You’ll manage on what I send you from my Army pay, and if you want more you’ll have to find work.’

  Fleur tried to salvage the situation. She smiled up at him tremulously and gave a twitch of the shoulders so that the strap slipped again and showed one breast. She stepped close to him and stroked his face. ‘You poor darling. No wonder you’re upset.’ Her mind was racing frantically, trying to find a way to escape this threat to the life she lived, and she remembered: ‘But you still have the yard. You bought the freehold of that just before we married. Weren’t you wise! That must be worth a lot of money.’

  ‘I’m not selling.’ Matt was definite. ‘For one thing, it’s all I have left to come home to if I survive this war. For another, I can’t. Katy Merrick put up some of the money for that purchase. She is part owner and I can’t sell without her agreement.’ Now he brushed her hand away. ‘You’re my wife and I’ll honour that obligation. While you are faithful to me, I will keep my share of the bargain. I won’t let you starve, but that’s all.’ He pushed her aside so she fell across the bed and he strode out of the room. Her wailing followed him down the stairs. It was partly contrived, a last effort to weaken his resolve, but also had an edge of real sorrow. She had married to secure her financial future and now that was lost.

  The next days dragged for both of them. Fleur sat about the house, sulking and silent. As she failed to cook, Matt made meals for himself. He spent most of each day walking, examining his life. His present existence he regarded as like being in prison. It seemed the rest of his life would be spent in that prison.

  Katy found the letters waiting for her on the table in the hall of the hostel, spartan and uncarpeted, when she came in from a day spent driving her ambulance. The first was from Annie and told her of the visits of Freddie Tait and Matt. Katy did not recall anyone by the name of Freddie Tait from her childhood in Wallsend. She set that one aside, deciding to do nothing about it for the time being. She thought she might write to her sister, Ursula, to ask if she knew this Freddie Tait.

  The second letter was from Matt. Her heart thumped when she recognised the writing on the envelope. She took it to her little hutch of a room and sat on the bed to read. Matt asked in a formal, brief note, if she could meet him. Katy wondered if she should think hard about this because the man she loved was already married, but her instinct would not let her. She wrote back to him: ‘I am glad you are safe and well. I would like to meet you as you pass through London but my hours of duty are irregular. I am driving most days but also often through the night. If you come here, there is a room where we can talk, or where you could wait for me to come off duty, if this would be convenient.’

  Matt opened the letter on the fourth morning of his leave. He read it, put it carefully away in his breast pocket with his Army pay book then packed his kit. Fleur was still in bed when he walked into her room. He told her, ‘I’m going to London then back to the regiment. Remember what I told you.’ When she did not answer but lay with her head turned away, he snapped, ‘Did you hear me?’

  Fleur muttered an answering, ‘Yes’, hating him but fearing him too. She need not have done because he would never have struck her.

  That was all their parting and he turned on his heel and left her.

  Fleur listened to the tramping of his boots on the stairs, then the slam of the front door. She threw back the covers and swung her legs out of bed. She had wasted enough time.

  She found Harry Dawkins at the Palace Hotel and just about to start a rehearsal. He was in his shirtsleeves and had not shaved but his patent leather hair was smooth and glossy with oil. He was not in the best of tempers and greeted Fleur moodily: ‘What the hell are you doing out of bed this early? I’m only here ‘cause I’m working.’

  Fleur said breathlessly, ‘I came to tell you he’s gone back. You can move in again.’

  Dawkins scrubbed at his stubble with one hand. ‘Well, great, only I’ve had enough of this country. The blackout, the grub — what there is of it — I can’t take any more. So I’m going home. My old man owns a restaurant. I’ll stay with him and maybe start my own band. One thing’s for sure, I’m getting the hell out of this place. This guy —’ and he jerked his head to indicate the bandleader up on the stage ‘—. he doesn’t like the way I behave. So I’m off to Liverpool tomorrow to book a passage.’

  The bandleader called impatiently, ‘Come on, Harry, we have to make a start!’

  OK, OK! I’m coming!’ Dawkins turned back to Fleur for a moment, ‘Stick around and we’ll have a drink later —or something.’ He winked and made for the stage. Fleur stared after him, wondering . . .

  The train pounding south towards London was crowded with s
ailors and soldiers, going on leave or returning from it. Matt stood in the corridor as far as York but a lot of the men got out there to change trains and he squeezed into a seat in the corner of a compartment. But all the time he was thinking of Katy and Fleur.

  Katy’s thoughts were of another man.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  LONDON. FEBRUARY 1918.

  In the darkness the bare branches of the trees waved above Katy’s head like the arms of giants. The night sky was overcast and dark, with only an occasional star glimpsed in a rift between racing clouds. The trees were black with rain and stood like soldiers on either side of the street where the hostel lay. Katy had written to Matt only the day before. Now she was returning to the hostel after a long day spent at the wheel of her ambulance. The collar of her greatcoat was turned up against the wind and rain and she felt her feet cold and wet in her shoes as she splashed through puddles she could not see. She had a torch in her pocket but because of the blackout that could only be used in emergencies. The hostel loomed ahead of her, a large old house requisitioned for the duration of the war, a huge silhouetted block without a light, also because of the blackout. She was close to the entrance when a shadow moved under one of the trees and a man said in a hoarse whisper, ‘Hullo, Katy! Remember me?’

  She shrank away, immediately wary, not recognising the voice. ‘Who is it?’

  There was the scrape of a match and as it spurted flame she glimpsed a bearded face and eyes gleaming in dark sockets. He said, ‘Don’t say you’ve forgotten me, Ivor Spargo.’

  She recognised him now and demanded, ‘How did you find me here?’ But her voice shook.

  Ivor heard it and grinned. ‘I went to see your friend, Annie.’

  Katy denied him: ‘That’s a lie! Annie wouldn’t tell anybody!’

  Ivor agreed, ‘No more she would, but I spun her a tale I was an old friend of yours. She let me in, then when her back was turned I got your address from a letter of yours that was stuck up on the mantelpiece. It was as easy as that.’

  Katy thought bitterly, Freddie Tait. She said with contempt, ‘So you tricked an old woman. You won’t trick me into anything so you’ve wasted your time coming here.’ But she was having difficulty keeping the tremor out of her voice. She was alone with him in the darkness.

  Ivor laughed harshly. ‘I’ve come to pay my debts, Katy.’

  She answered him, ‘I’m not frightened of you.’ But she fumbled for the torch to use as a weapon. ‘And what debts are you talking about?’

  The flame of the match had faded and died. Now she could see him only as another shadow but she could sense his hatred as he spat out, ‘I owe you a hell of a lot. You got us turned out of our yard so we had to go down to Yorkshire. Ma used to curse you every day and in the end she had a stroke and that was the end of her.’ Katy winced, but reminded herself that Ma Spargo had been a woman full of hatred; now it had killed her. Ivor snarled on, ‘Pa went on the booze and then the war came along and the business went kaput. I was left without a bloody penny! Then they brought in conscription and put me in the Army. I wasn’t starving but when they wanted to send me to Flanders I run off. Oh, I owe you, Katy Merrick!’

  ‘Don’t be damned silly,’ said Katy, trying to sound braver than she felt. She had the torch in her hand and tried to edge away.

  Ivor saw this and jeered, ‘It’s no use you running. I’ve got you on a string and I can haul you back when I want.’ Katy heard this with unease but still edged along the wet pavement. She was on the point of making a run for the hostel when Ivor said softly, ‘I can tell you something about your fancy man and your bairn.’

  That stopped Katy dead, but only for a moment. She knew Ivor for a liar among other things but also knew now that he was not lying about this. He was too sure of himself. She moved back towards him as if drawn on a string as he had said. ‘What do you know about Louise?

  Ivor taunted her, ‘That’s got you toeing the line, hasn’t it?’

  Katy reached out and grabbed his coat, wet under her hands, and shook him: ‘What is it? What do you know?’ He retreated further under the trees, dragging her with him. He was laughing softly now. ‘Changed your tune, haven’t you? And you want me to tell you where to find your babby? Because I can.’

  ‘Find her?’ His arm was around her but she did not care, had to know. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘She’s not in Germany — never was. She’s in England.’ ‘I don’t believe you.’ But she did. ‘Where in England?’ ‘Aha! I’ve given you a taste, now I’m going to have one.’ He pressed his lips on hers, bruising.

  Katy tore away: ‘There’s someone coming.’ She was lying, had heard no one, but then there came the sound of hurrying footsteps. Katy said, ‘I think it’s the policeman on his beat.’

  Ivor swore, then hissed, ‘You be in Barker’s Lane tomorrow night. It’s down in the East End. Bring sixty quid and you’ll find out where your little bairn is now. Tell anybody else and you’ll never know. She’ll end up working the streets.’ He shoved her away, out onto the pavement, then he was gone, disappearing into the deeper darkness under the trees. Katy stood with the rain running down her face. Ivor had knocked off her felt hat and her hair hung loose.

  The hurrying footsteps came up to her. She recognised another girl returning to the hostel and was greeted by her: ‘Hello, Katy. Lord, you’re getting soaked! Where’s your hat?’

  Katy answered mechanically, ‘It blew off.’ The other girl helped her find it by the light of the shaded torch and they walked on together. They talked about the events of the day but all the time the words drummed in Katy’s head, ‘She’s in England. In England!’ And: ‘She’ll end up working the streets.’

  In the hostel she went up to her little hutch of a room, sat down on her bed and tried to think. Some conclusions were easy. Firstly, she meant to learn what Ivor Spargo knew, cost what it may. If there was any chance of finding Louise then Katy would take the gamble. She could draw the money from the bank the next day. That was essential because Ivor would not talk without it. But suppose he was lying? She did not believe he was, but how could she make sure he did not take her money and walk out of her life?

  Katy saw her commandant next day and asked for leave of absence, which was granted. She drew the money she needed from the bank and in the early evening was ready to go. She had a little time to spare before the hour she had decided to leave and sat on her bed, the tension mounting inside her. She started when someone rapped on her door, but then Dorothy, one of the girls on her floor, called, ‘Katy? Are you there?’

  ‘Yes.’ And Katy opened the door.

  Dorothy was plump and giggly and she giggled now: ‘There’s a man asking to see you, a sergeant-major in the Army Service Corps. Nice!

  Matt! Katy swallowed and got out, ‘I’ll come down.’

  She picked up her coat and her bag with the money in it and ran down the stairs. A room by the front door was set aside for male visitors. Inside were a half-dozen small tables with chairs and Matt sat at one of these. He rose to his feet as Katy entered, his cap in his hand. ‘Hello, Katy.’

  ‘Hello, Matt.’

  They stood for some seconds, looking at each other, seeking changes. She thought his face was thinner but he seemed bigger than she remembered as he looked down at her. He knew he had never seen anyone so lovely. It hurt.

  Katy said shakily, ‘We’d better sit down.’ She sat opposite him, both on straight-backed chairs with the width of the table between them. Katy began the polite exchange: ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine, fine. And you?’

  ‘Yes. I quite like this job. I feel I’m doing something useful.’

  Matt asked, ‘Have you heard anything of Louise?’ She could not tell him, would not involve him in this extortion by Ivor. She shook her head.

  He said, ‘I’m sorry, Katy.’

  She shifted away from the subject: ‘How was your leave? I thought you had a few more days.’

  That was the end of th
e well-worn, stilted phrases. Matt answered jerkily, speaking his mind: ‘I have three more days. I thought I’d spend them down here. I thought we could go out together.’

  Katy said gently, ‘No, Matt, I don’t think that would be a good idea. Nor do you. You’re married and you’re not the sort to play games. Neither am I.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I came to see you but not intending . . . That just — slipped out. And the leave was bloody awful, that’s why I’m here.’ He looked about him absently and Katy guessed he was working out what to say next. She waited for him. There were three other couples in the room, seated round tables like Matt and Katy, each with its little private world of murmured conversation.

  Matt’s gaze came back to Katy and he said, ‘When I left the business to you I didn’t know how bad things were going to be. I’ve seen the books and accounts so I know you’ve had a hell of a time. A lot of that, I think, was down to Fleur. You stripped the business for her, took money from your share to pay her the allowance she wanted. You must have known that was your future you were giving away. God knows how we’ll start up again with the little capital we have left.’ He scowled down at his hands, folded on the table before him. They were big, calloused and scarred from years of working on engines. Katy’s own slender hands lay only a foot away and she could have reached out to touch him but did not. She knew that would be dangerous.

  She looked up at the clock on the wall, a sideways glance that he could not see, and saw that she had to leave soon. She knew temptation but resisted it again: she would not tell Matt about Louise. He could not help and he had enough trouble of his own.

  Now Matt looked up from his hands and asked, ‘Why did you do it, Katy? Why give her your money? I wouldn’t have let her have it. I’d have told her to cut her expenses down. Why did you do it?’

  For love of him, of course. Katy admitted, ‘I thought if I didn’t let her have the money she would write to you.’

  Matt said wryly, ‘I think you’re right there. I’m damned sure she’d have written to me for the money. That’s probably the only time she would write.’