Can Dreams Come True?

by Oliver, Marina

  'You don't have much time for cooking,' she'd said, 'and I have Mrs Meadows at home to do it for me. There's plenty for you too.'

  Kate sometimes felt lonely, once the shop was closed, but she had been able to afford a few books, those she had loved at school, and she read and re-read them, feeling guilty for having leisure enough to do so. It had never been possible before.

  She wrote a long letter to Maggie, describing everything she could, and sent it off after two weeks in the job. Each morning she expected a reply, but when none came she consoled herself with the thought that Maggie must be very busy, with a job and her family to look after. Kate wondered how she and Hattie were faring, and knew she was heartily relieved to be free of the burden. Now she had a life of her own to enjoy and, she vowed, to make a success. One day, perhaps she would open her own shop. Or she might apply to one of Birmingham's department stores, where there would be chances of promotion to Manageress. It had been hard, but now Kate Martins was on her way!

  *

  Maggie climbed the stairs wearily, carrying her shopping basket. Hattie refused to go further than the shops on the corner of the road, but Maggie found better bargains, and fresher fruit and vegetables, in the market, so she normally did the shopping there during her dinner break. It was a drag carrying potatoes and vegetables, after a day at work, but her kids were going to be well fed, now they had enough money to be able to afford it.

  Jeannie met her at the door to their rooms. 'Gran's off again,' she said. 'When we come home from school the little 'uns were on their own. She'd not give them no dinner, and the fire was almost out, they was cold.'

  Maggie dumped her basket on the table. The two little girls were huddled together in her bed, and Sid, her oldest son, was on his knees blowing as hard as he could at a small flame in the fireplace.

  'We put on some kindling, but we dain't use paper, yer said it were dangerous,' Jeannie explained.

  'Good kids. Let me do it now, Sid love. Jeannie, peel some spuds, will yer? There's some in the basket.'

  As she held up a sheet of newspaper to draw the flames, Maggie inwardly cursed Hattie. Ma had only been with them a few weeks, but she was making life harder for them all, instead of being a help. This was the fourth or fifth time she had vanished without a word in the past month.

  Half an hour later Sam came in as she was frying some liver and onions.

  'That smells great!'

  Maggie gave him a tired smile. 'Ma's off again. After yer've had some tea, will yer go and ask at police station? They're getting used ter being told she's wandered out.'

  Sam groaned. 'It were all the way ter Kenilworth last week! Why does she do it? Is it ter spite us?'

  'I don't know! She never seems to remember where she's been. I don't think she can help it, Sam. At least she hasn't been out all night like she was back in Brum. In this weather it'd kill her!'

  Sam muttered something under his breath, and though Maggie gave him a sharp glance, she didn't demand to know what he'd said. She was only too well aware that Hattie was unhappy, and making the lives of the rest of them a misery too, with her constant complaints, especially about having to share the one bedroom with all the children.

  When they'd eaten, and the children were in bed, Sam left and Maggie, for once idle, sat before the fire and thought hard. They had to do something. And with careful management she could see a possibility.

  It was after midnight before Sam returned with Hattie.

  'Out at Ryton this time,' he said resignedly. 'I'm for bed, I'm knackered.'

  It was the following day before Maggie was able to talk to him alone. They were all tired, and had gone to bed early, but Maggie had to take the opportunity.

  'I've been offered chance of being a charge hand,' she said abruptly. 'It'd be more money, but longer hours. I wasn't keen, but if we're careful we could rent a small house, maybe a garden. If Ma had a room to herself, perhaps she'd be more content. And there'd be somewhere for the kids ter play.'

  'A house? Yer've seen one? Where?'

  'Gert, she's my charge hand, is leaving. Her man's got a job out Leicester way, and she said if we're quick we could take over her house. It's only round the corner, the kids won't have ter move school, so it's just as convenient. It's not big, two bedrooms upstairs, but we could have the front room downstairs. What good's a parlour to us?'

  'Anything ter make yer happy,' Sam said, and Maggie smiled in the darkness. She'd been firm with him, but he was missing what he called his little bit of a cuddle, and anxious to please her. Well, when she had time to think of herself, she'd get fixed up and then, maybe, if they had some privacy, she'd think about it.

  *

  A month before Christmas, when Kate went to have her afternoon break, she found a strange man in the kitchen, putting the kettle on the gas cooker. No one else was there, they took their breaks in turn, and she looked at him dubiously, standing in the doorway.

  'It's OK,' he said, seeing her suspicion. 'Don't worry, I belong here. I'm John Wilson.'

  'Mrs Wilson's son?' she asked.

  'Yes. And you must be the new girl my Dad's been praising to the skies, because you can actually add up a long column of figures.'

  Kate felt her cheeks go red. 'He's been very patient with me,' she said. 'Are you making tea? I have to hurry, we're very busy today.'

  Briskly he spooned tea into the pot, and poured on the water. Kate bit back a reminder to warm the pot. He was the boss's son, she had no right to tell him what to do, even in such matters.

  While he was busy she studied him. He was tall, well-built, had the same sort of easy confidence as Robert. She had never forgotten him, despite her determined efforts to forget that blissful, stolen afternoon in his car, and the other, horrible one when Alf had fought him. She'd often wondered how long it had taken for the bruises Alf had inflicted to fade.

  John Wilson probably knew Robert, she suddenly realised. Mrs Carstairs had said something about the Wilsons having a son who had been to school with her own son, Norman, and wasn't it through Norman that Robert knew the Carstairs?

  She attempted to stifle the thought, but Robert's image remained with her for the rest of the day. Where was he now? Had he spent time in Paris? Had he seen Daphne there?

  The very next day that question, at least, was answered. A letter came, from Paris, the first one Daphne had sent her, though Kate knew Mrs Carstairs had told her all about the job with the Wilsons.

  Daphne was full of apologies for not having written earlier, saying she had so much to do, what with school and going to the theatres and galleries.

  'It's all supposed to be cultural,' she wrote. 'I must say I prefer that to boring classes on flower arranging, and how to write notes of invitation, thanks, condolence and so on. By the way, that reminds me of your father. I was horrified when I heard he'd died, and I did try to write, but it was so difficult to know what to say, and in the end I couldn't. Not at the time. Now I can.'

  When she had had a few more lessons, Kate thought, but she didn't feel bitter or neglected. How would she have felt? Could she have written in like circumstances?

  Daphne covered several more sheets with descriptions of what she had been doing, the sheer delights of Paris, and made Kate laugh with witty descriptions of some of her new school friends.

  'I've made some good friends, mainly English, but a couple of Americans too, and the staff are really not at all stuffy. I'll be home for Christmas, if I can face that really ghastly crossing. I was hoping Robert might be here to escort me, but he's stuck in Birmingham for a while. I've been seeing a lot of him whenever he's been over here. At least we'll both be in the same city during Christmas. I'd love to invite you to the Christmas party we're having. Stella and her husband will be there. But it would be too difficult, I suppose, for you to get time off, and the house will be full of boring relatives, so there wouldn't be room for you to stay, and how would you get back late at night? You couldn't possibly go by bus or train.'

 
Robert might have driven me, Kate thought wistfully, and then shook her head. That had been something never to be repeated. At least she had the memory of it.

  Daphne's letter reminded her that she had never heard from Maggie, which was strange. She would write again soon. One day, when she had saved a little more, she would go to Coventry and see them all. That was more important than saving for flying lessons. If she was honest with herself, she knew they were an unlikely dream.

  *

  John Wilson seemed to haunt the shop. He was usually to be found in the kitchen when Kate went for her breaks, and he began to tell her about his job as a land agent to a big landowner in Lincolnshire.

  'That's rather different from a shop,' she said. He had an outdoor look about him, healthy bronzed skin, and firm muscles which rippled under his clothes.

  'My parents wanted me to take over from them, but I didn't fancy it. I was friendly with this chap's son, and got the chance through him.'

  'You're on holiday now, then?'

  'I've three weeks off now, and a couple more after Christmas. I didn't take any leave last year, there were problems on the estate, and the year before that I only had a few days, his lordship broke his leg, and I had to go back. I'm planning to go to Switzerland for a week later, do some skiing, with some old school friends.'

  Kate pricked up her ears. Might that include Robert? She dared not ask. 'How do you stay up on skis? I've seen pictures, in the papers and books, but it looks worse than skating.'

  'Not once you have the knack. Have you ever been skating?'

  'No, and I don't suppose I ever will.'

  'Yes, you must. If the pools in Sutton Park freeze people skate there, but we could try it at a roller rink one day. You have Wednesday afternoons off, don't you? We'll go next week.'

  Kate protested, saying it wasn't fitting, but he overruled all her objections.

  'No one will mind,' he reassured her. 'Then I'll take you to tea at Kunzle's.'

  To her astonished delight Kate found she had a natural balance, and was soon able to take tentative steps on her own. But John insisted that she still needed his support, and kept his arm firmly round her waist.

  His nearness was disturbing, but by the time they had staggered round the rink a few times, laughing and clinging to one another as he steadied her, and tried to persuade her to relax and go faster, she had lost most of her shyness. He was kind, and she found she was really enjoying the exercise. She hadn't realised how much she had missed the tennis games at school, and the netball in winter. This was another, possibly even more exhilarating sport, and she began to hope the pools in the Park would freeze enough for her to attempt ice-skating.

  'But I'll never have the chance of skiing,' she said when they were in the tearooms, eating luscious cream cakes.

  'Why not?'

  'How could I ever afford it? I'm a shop girl!'

  'Maybe you'll start your own business and make a fortune.'

  'Yes, I'd like that, but it's so hard to save anything, I sometimes think I'll never have enough to start.'

  'There are other possibilities. A pretty girl like you should find a rich husband, he could take you.'

  Kate laughed, and shook her head, and they finished their cakes and caught the bus home. That evening John was waiting in the kitchen when the shop closed.

  'I noticed you didn't have a wireless,' he said. 'I've brought you one. It'll be company for you when I have to go back.'

  'A wireless?' Kate felt a rush of pleasure. He was so thoughtful. 'I've never seen one, apart from at Daphne's. Daphne Carstairs, she was a friend at school.'

  'Carstairs? I knew a chap at school called Carstairs.'

  'Norman, I expect, Daphne's brother. It was Mrs Carstairs who asked your parents to give me this job.'

  'Here, let me show you how to use it.'

  John spent some time fiddling with the knobs until he was satisfied the wireless was working as well as possible.

  'Every so often you need to take out the battery – see, this is it – and take it to someone who can recharge it. I'll show you how later. You'll be able to listen to the news broadcasts, find out what's going on in the world. And you don't seem to have a newspaper, so you don't hear any of the news. It's been rather an exciting year.'

  'Well, none of is likely to affect me, is it?' Kate asked.

  'Perhaps not, but I like to hear about such things as the maiden voyage of the Queen Mary.' He laughed. 'But Beryl Markham did the Atlantic crossing even faster than the Queen Mary when she won the Blue Riband.'

  'How do you mean?'

  'She flew an aeroplane across, the first solo crossing by a woman.'

  Kate gasped. 'Really? How wonderful! I'd love to go up in an aeroplane, but I don't suppose I ever will. Once I even thought I'd be able to save enough for flying lessons. People are always complaining about the noise they make, the ones from Castle Bromwich.'

  'Maybe I can arrange it. Would you like that?'

  'It's a dream,' Kate prevaricated. Why should he do such a thing for her? And what might he expect in return?

  John sat down by the table, and Kate sat on the chair opposite.

  'I like to hear the results of the Olympics, and that Fred Perry won Wimbledon for the third year running. Don't those sort of things interest you?'

  'I suppose so.'

  'Though I don't like to hear about wars and the unemployed men from Jarrow marching on London. But there's music, and plays, and talks. Let's put it on now and see what's happening.'

  It was odd, Kate thought, to hear the disembodied voices coming into her room. When she got used to it, though, she would enjoy the company. And if she were to aim for a business of her own it could be useful to have a wider knowledge of what was going on in the world.

  *

  Maggie was bone weary. Getting their possessions to the new house, a task which was left entirely to her, had been exhausting on top of all the other things she had to do. Sam had succumbed to a feverish cold, which three of the children had then caught, and she seemed to spend her time making hot drinks and tending them, whenever she wasn't at work.

  Jeannie had stayed away from school and taken on these tasks while Maggie went to work, which relieved her of one worry. If Hattie went off again, at least there was someone there to look after them all. And Maggie, new in her charge hand job, could not afford to appear unreliable, or lose the extra money.

  Hattie seemed calmer, however, though she did little to help. Maggie stayed up late and rose early, taking bundles of their possessions round to the new house, and thanking her lucky stars that it was so close.

  Mrs Lloyd had been unhelpful when told they were leaving her rooms. She'd never forgiven Maggie for seeing her threatening the children, and Maggie suspected she thought that was the reason for them leaving. It didn't matter. What mattered was to get them all settled.

  On the final day Sam was fit enough to help, and the children had all recovered, so they moved the larger things, the mattresses and table, and Maggie, worn out, decided she had no more energy to try and make the house tidy. That could wait until another day.

  Gradually they settled, revelling in the extra space, and Sam was full of praise for Maggie.

  'My lovely wife,' he would say, attempting to pull her down on the mattress when they went to bed.

  'No, Sam,' she told him.

  'Why not? I needs some comfort, and if I can't get it at home, well, there's other women only too glad ter please a feller.'

  Maggie grinned. 'And they'd expect presents, these fancy women, and a bit of fuss in return. You wouldn't know how.'

  'Don't yer be so sure, me gal!'

  Maggie shook her head. 'I must write to Kate. I meant to do it before we moved, but there was so much else to do. I have to tell her where we are. I'll suggest she comes and lives here too. We could divide Ma's room, give them both some privacy. And I could get her a job with me. I miss her.'

  'Yer dain't see a lot of 'er in Brum.'

&n
bsp; 'No, but she was there, close by, and now I never see her.'

  'I don't think your Kate would want ter come, and work in a factory,' Sam said. 'Look at the good job 'er's got now, with posh folks. Prospects, too, you'd not want ter make 'er miss them.'

  Maggie paused. 'I don't know. She'd be a help with Ma.'

  'But she had enough, after yer Pa died. Hattie led her a right old game, and if I was Kate, I wouldn't want ter face that again. It wouldn't be fair to the lass.'

  'I have to let her know the house is big enough, in case of need. You never know. She might need us one day.'

  *

  Robert drove to Walsall early in the morning. It was a brilliantly clear day, perfect for flying, and he hadn't been up since he came home. One day soon, he hoped, when the weather improved in the Spring, he might attempt to fly to Paris. He'd fitted some of his prototype instruments in his Tiger Moth, and needed to check how they worked in a real aeroplane.

  He'd do a circle round Birmingham, roughly following the route of the famous race over twenty years earlier between Hucks and Hamel, but not landing as they had done at each checkpoint. First he went south, flying over the smoking chimneys of the Black County factories. From up here he had a good view, despite the smoke which spread a misty haze over everywhere, of the sprawl of houses, and the mines and factories which had been responsible for much of the region's prosperity in the past.

  Near Redditch he turned eastwards, and the pleasant Warwickshire countryside, with its rolling pastures, woodlands and ploughed fields, was such a contrast that he wondered why everyone didn't long to live in the countryside. How many of the slum-dwellers, the miners and factory hands he'd just passed over, had never seen green fields and woods, like Kate?

  He'd tried to think of ways to find her. He glanced down, Birmingham in the distance, Coventry ahead, and wondered where, in that vast area, she might be. If only there were some way of homing in on her, like pigeons flew to their lofts.