Katy's Men

by Irene Carr

  In the house, Howard Ross shrugged into his expensive overcoat and stepped into the living-room. The child playing with her dolls by the fire looked up and asked, ‘Can I go out to play, Daddy?’

  ‘No, because there won’t be anybody here to watch out for you.’ He turned on the woman and snapped, ‘I’m going to see how the other girls are getting on. I don’t want you hanging around here, Meggie. You’ve been lying in bed all morning. Get down the road and earn your keep.’

  Meggie was dressed in tawdry finery, a dress that had been ripped more than once and poorly mended, and which showed off her bosom and scrawny neck. She was a woman old before her time. She whined, ‘I was just boiling an egg for my breakfast.’ The pan stood on the glowing coals. ‘As soon as I’ve eaten that I’ll be away.’

  ‘Mind you are.’ And Ross grumbled, ‘Why the hell didn’t you do it in the kitchen?’

  ‘It’s cosier in here beside the fire.’

  ‘Slut!’ Ross started towards the door but called to the little girl, ‘You behave yourself while we’re out or it’ll be the belt for you.’

  The child cringed. ‘Yes, Daddy.’

  Ross went on to the front door, opened it and paused to glance up and down the street, as always, before stepping out. When looking to his right he had to squint against the bright sunlight, but on turning his head the other way he could see without trouble — and did not like what he saw. The group were marching steadily down the street towards him and children were leaving their games to follow in the wake of the police. Ross knew Formby, and the sergeant, Bullock. The soldier he could not place for a moment, then he remembered the tall man in the yard when he had trailed Katy. Her he recognised at once. He muttered an obscenity and shut the door.

  Formby and his party, with the sun in their eyes, had not seen Ross. As they approached the house Formby said, ‘Blast! We could have sent those two men through there to get to the back.’ Because now they could see that, before Ross’s house, there was a gap in the terrace. A lane about six or seven feet wide ran back between his house and the next. But now they were at the front door. Sergeant Bullock hammered on it and demanded, ‘Open up! Police!’ The call brought more children running in droves and drew the attention of the gossiping women, but the door did not open. The sergeant tried again, still without result, and looked to Formby. He nodded and Bullock bellowed, ‘Open up or I’ll break this door down!’ One of the policemen stepped forward carrying a sledge hammer. And then the door opened.

  A slatternly looking young woman stood in the opening. She asked sullenly, ‘What d’ye want?’ But she was nervous, Katy could see the twitching of the hand which hung by her side, clutching a fold of her skirt, and her eyes jumped from one member of the group to another.

  Formby said, ‘Now then, Meggie lass, I’ve got a warrant to search these premises so get out of the way.’ And to Sergeant Garrett and his men, ‘In you go!’ They passed him at a run, big boots thundering in the hall, then they split up to go through the house. Matt went with them, heading straight for the stairs. Formby shouted, ‘Here! Not you!’ But Matt did not or would not hear and Formby swore, a mild oath but he apologised to Katy, ‘Sorry, madam.’ But then he warned, ‘Don’t you go rushing off. You stay with me.’ He turned on Meggie: ‘Now we’ll have a chat inside.’

  When Matt reached the head of the stairs he briefly halted. One passage lay ahead of him, another to the right. Which way to go? But he saw a constable preceding him along the passage ahead so he took that to the right. For an instant he thought a soldier faced him, but then saw it was his own reflection in a huge mirror at the end of the passage. There was a door on one side of it. He threw this open, fists clenched ready for whatever or whoever he might find, but found himself in a bedroom at the front of

  the house. It was empty, but the suits in the big wardrobe marked it as that of the master of the house. This was the lair of the beast who had plagued Katy and made her life miserable. The mirror outside was where he admired himself. Matt kicked aside a chair, stormed out and went on with the search.

  In the sitting-room, Formby leaned back against a round table set at its centre and eyed Meggie where she sat by the fire. Sergeant Bullock stood stolidly by the door. The pan on the coals spat like a cat as it boiled over and Meggie slid it onto the hob where it bubbled steadily. Formby said, ‘What’s that?’

  Meggie answered, ‘I’m going to boil an egg for my breakfast.’

  Formby said, D’you want to eat it here or down at the station?’

  Meggie complained, ‘What do I have to go down there for? I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘Just to have a talk.’ Formby showed his teeth. ‘But we could get it over with here. Where’s the little lass?’ ‘I don’t know.’ Meggie stared at the fire.

  Formby asked, ‘What do you know about her?’

  ‘Louise?’ Meggie shrugged. ‘She’s his daughter, that’s all. He brought her back just as the war was starting. I suppose she’d been living with her mother.’

  Katy broke in fiercely, ‘She had. I’m her mother.’ Formby gave her a disapproving look at this interruption but she kept on, ‘Where is she?’

  Meggie was staring at her, looking her over from head to foot. ‘You were married to him?’

  ‘I was going to be. When he found I was pregnant he disappeared.’

  Meggie shook her head, ‘A lass like you?’ But then she sighed, ‘Well, he can make himself out to be a proper gentleman when he wants. He got us all that way. That’s how I started. You can thank God he didn’t marry you.’

  Katy pressed her, ‘Where’s Louise?’

  Meggie’s gaze flickered and fell. ‘With him.’

  Katy felt cold inside. ‘Where is he?’

  Sergeant Garrett, from the second car, appeared in the doorway. He had been leading the search of the house and now Formby snapped at him, ‘Well?’

  ‘He’s not in the house, sir.’ Garrett looked uncomfortable under Formby’s glare, his red face even redder. Now Matt loomed behind him, caught Katy’s eye and shook his head with frustration.

  Formby swung back to glower at Meggie, ‘So where is he? And the little lass?’

  Meggie still stared into the fire. ‘He was just going out the front when he saw you lot coming. He went out the back way.’

  Formby turned to Garrett, standing in the doorway and asked, ‘What about those men at the back?’

  Garrett answered glumly, ‘I found the back door open, sir. The constables were just arriving. They’d had a long run to get round the end of the street to the back lane. They hadn’t seen anybody.’

  Formby smacked his fist into his palm, Damn! We’ve missed him. But we’ll soon pick him up. We know him well and the little lass will give him away. Don’t you

  worry.’ That last was addressed to Katy. She stood pale-faced, knowing now that something had gone terribly wrong. Should she have kept Matt and the police out of it, come here on her own? Howard Ross would not have run from her. But nor would he have let her walk away, with or without Louise, she was sure of that. And Louise was with him still. But he could not have gone far . . .

  Formby seemed to act on that thought: ‘The quicker we start the better. Come on!’ He led the way out of the room and his men followed.

  Matt took Katy’s arm and tried to reassure her: Formby’s right, they’ll soon pick up Ross.’ He led her from the room and Katy went obediently, but turned her head to catch one last glimpse of Meggie where she sat by the fire. The woman looked up furtively then quickly away.

  Katy asked, ‘Is she all right?’

  But Meggie only shrugged.

  Katy let Matt lead her to the front door but there she stopped. ‘I’m going back to talk to her.’

  Matt said, ‘We ought to get after Louise.’

  ‘The police will do that better than I could.’ Katy turned back, ‘She’s the only one who can tell me about Louise.’

  Matt also turned. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  �
�No, Matt, please. She might talk to me alone but not with you or the police there.’

  Matt hesitated, then saw the point, nodded and stepped back. Katy closed the front door on him and returned to the sitting-room.

  Meggie looked up from the fire, startled. ‘Hey! What are you doing here? I thought you lot had gone.’ She craned to peer behind Katy.

  ‘They have,’ replied Katy. ‘I’m on my own.’ She walked to the fireside. A cracket stood there, a little four-legged stool, and she sat on that, her face turned up to Meggie.

  ‘What d’you want, then?’ Meggie demanded suspiciously. ‘I can’t tell you any more about him.’ Her voice rose, frightened, ‘I can’t, I tell you!’

  ‘I don’t want to hear about him!’ That came bitterly from Katy. ‘I never thought I could hate somebody, really hate them, but him . . .!’ She paused a moment, her face in her hands, then lifted it and wiped away the tears. She said simply, pleading, ‘I just want to know about Louise, my little girl he stole from me.’ And Katy told her the whole story, from her seduction to Louise’s kidnapping.

  Meggie listened, at first wary but then increasingly sympathetic. At the end she whispered, ‘That’s awful! I’m sorry about you and the bairn.’

  Katy asked, ‘Is she well looked after? Is she happy?’ She looked up anxiously into Meggie’s face.

  Meggie hesitated, pity fighting fear, then pity won a small battle and she said, ‘She always has enough to eat, decent clothes.’

  Katy pressed her, ‘But is she happy?’

  But Meggie would not answer that: ‘How should I know?’

  Katy reached out to grip her hand, asked the question though afraid of what the answer might be: ‘Is he cruel to her?’

  ‘He gives her a clip now and then—’

  ‘He beats her?’ Katy’s hand tightened on Meggie’s.

  Meggie winced at the pain of it. ‘Aye, but he only once put her in the cupboard, that I know—’ She broke off there, her free hand to her mouth, fearful.

  ‘In the cupboard?’ Katy felt faint but her grip tightened further. ‘What do you mean? Tell me!

  ‘If I told you anything he’d kill me!’ Meggie tried to prise Katy’s fingers from her wrist but failed.

  Katy insisted, ‘The police will protect you! If you give evidence they won’t do anything to you and neither will he! He’ll go to prison for a very long time! Would you like your daughter to be with him — or in this cupboard?’

  Now Meggie was weeping. ‘He has a room. If any of us lasses crosses him, doesn’t do as he says, he locks us in there all day and night. You’re just sitting on the floor in the dark and not knowing what he’s going to do when he opens the door. It’s next to his room. He likes to hear us crying in there. It’s behind a big mirror — that’s the door. He’s in there!’ She bent over, sobbing.

  Katy realised Ross had played the same trick he had used on her four years ago. He had led her to believe he had gone to Germany when he was still in Newcastle. Now he had laid a trail that had sent the police off on a wild goose chase while he lay hidden in the house.

  ‘I told you to keep your bloody mouth shut, Meggie! Howard Ross stood in the doorway, stripping off an expensive overcoat and tossing it aside.

  Meggie whimpered and put her hands to her face as Katy’s grip on her loosened, shrank back in the chair and wailed, ‘I did like you told me!’ Then seeking frantically for any excuse, ‘She won’t tell anybody, will you, lass?’ That last was addressed, pleadingly, to Katy. But Katy was on her feet now, staring wide-eyed at Ross.

  He threatened Meggie contemptuously, ‘I’ll settle with you in a minute.’ Then he glared at Katy and reached back into the hall behind him: ‘Is this what you’re looking for?’ He dragged Louise into the room to stand by his side. Katy started forward but Ross snapped, ‘Stay where you are!’ She saw he held a knife in his right hand, a wicked instrument with a wide, shining blade. She froze. Surely he would not use that — But Katy was not sure. Ross was going on, ‘That’s right. You keep quiet and do just what I tell you, or else.’ That was said softly but with menace. He paused, his cold, mad stare boring into Katy and he saw the fear transfixing her, as it always did when he used that stare on his victims. And as always he thought, She’s like a frightened rabbit.

  ‘Stand still.’ He left Louise by the door and moved towards Katy, holding her with his eyes. ‘You’re going to get me out of here. You, me and Louise, we’re going out together.’ He approached her with certainty and Katy’s gaze flicked wildly from him to Louise and back again. Her legs felt loose under her and she was aware of the knife, casually held by his side but a potent threat. What would her life be worth if she went with him? Or the life of Louise? She glimpsed her daughter’s frightened face for just an instant longer, saw the fear and pleading in her eyes, then Ross moved between them and blocked her view.

  That broke the spell. Katy began to think again, and to fight. She reached down to the fire, scooped up the pan and hurled its contents into Ross’s face. He shrieked, scalded and blinded, if only for precious seconds. He clutched at his face that streamed water and Katy saw her chance. She ran past him and snatched up Louise, whisked her out into the hall then slammed the door shut behind them. She heard Matt shout, ‘Katy? Katy! She struggled with the catch on the front door then started back as it swung in towards her under the impact of Matt’s charging shoulder. Katy glanced behind her and saw Ross burst out of the room she had just left. For a second they all froze, Katy holding Louise, Matt with his arm around her, Ross with his mad glare and his face raw and discoloured. Then he turned and ran.

  Matt followed, but first had to round Katy and Louise. Then he and Ross were both leaping up the stairs, though Ross led by several strides. Katy cried out, ‘Mate She was afraid for him because Ross still had the knife. She thrust Louise into Bullock’s arms as the sergeant appeared at the front door, then ran after Matt. The two men raced upwards through the house. Matt was fitter and faster but Ross threw obstacles in his path — chairs, a small table —that briefly checked him. Because of this Katy was able to keep in touch, though half of a flight of stairs behind Matt.

  So they came to the top of the house, where there was a landing. Several small rooms opened off this, rooms in which the servants used to live. Ross dashed into one of these and slammed the door shut behind him. Matt tried to open it but failed. Katy appeared at his side and he panted, ‘I think he’s shoved a chair up against it.’

  Katy said breathlessly, ‘Leave it, Matt! He has a knife! Let the police—’

  He cut her off: ‘I reckon he has a way out of here, or why should he climb to the top o’ the house?’ He set his shoulder to the door and it tore off its hinges then fell inside. Now they could see Ross, crouching on top of an old chest of drawers in the open dormer window, with one leg out on the roof. As Matt lunged across the room, Ross swung out onto the slates and pushed the window down, closing it in Matt’s face. Katy grabbed at Matt’s arm but he shook her off and told her, ‘I want him for what he did to you!’ He grabbed the broken chair from the floor and rammed it through the window, sending the glass spraying across the roof. Ross had disappeared, but when Matt stood on the chest of drawers and cautiously lifted his head out of the window frame he saw Ross walking along on the wide ridge tiles which ran along the apex of the roof. He was now some yards away.

  Ross laughed at him and Matt climbed out onto the ridge of the dormer window. Balancing precariously with his feet on that, he could lie flat on the black slates and reach up to the ridge tiles. He began to haul himself up over the slippery slates, as Ross had done. But now Ross turned back, ran nimble as a cat along the ridge and struck at Matt’s hands with the knife. Matt saw the attack coming and took one hand off the ridge. He whipped off his cap and dashed it in Ross’s face, blinding him, then seized the hand which held the knife. He twisted it savagely and the blade fell from Ross’s fingers. It skittered down over the roof to fall in the yard thirty feet below. But now Ross used his
free hand to prise the other out of Matt’s grasp, then he stamped on Matt’s fingers which were hooked on the ridge so that they opened nervelessly and Matt had to let go. It was then that he lost his footing on the dormer window and he slid down the roof after the knife.

  Katy, standing in the dormer, saw it all. She leaned dangerously far out, lying on the roof, to grab the skirt of Matt’s tunic as he slid past. The jerk seemed almost to tear her arm from its socket, but she checked his fall and dragged him over to the window. As Matt clamped a hand on its frame, Ross shouted from above, ‘Try again and you’ll get the same!’

  Matt said nothing but started to climb onto the roof of the dormer again. Katy pleaded, ‘No, Matt!’ But she saw he was unheeding in his anger, and she remembered that anger was because of the way Ross had treated her. She called up to him now, ‘You might as well give yourself up! You can’t stay up here forever!’

  ‘No, I won’t!’ Ross shouted in reply. ‘And I’ll be back to deal with you and that pretty face of yours!’ He turned then and ran along the wide ridge tiles.

  Matt said, ‘He’s going to jump across to the next house. He’s hoping to get away through there before the police twig what he’s doing.’

  Katy said, ‘He’ll never do it!’ And then she shouted a warning, forgetting the harm this evil man had done to her, instinctively trying to save him: ‘Don’t! You can’t!

  The cry came as Ross was about to leap. It distracted him for a split second but that was too much and his foot slipped as he jumped. He almost cleared the gap but fell short by inches. As his torso thumped against the gable end of the next house his hands scrabbled desperately at the end of its roof. They found a hold on the ridge tile there but it was loose and came away. It fell into the alley between the two houses and he plummeted with it. His shriek came echoing up to them and then was cut short by a sickening thud. There was a terrible silence.