A Step Too Far

by Meg Hutchinson

  When they were clear of the factory gates, making sure nobody was within hearing distance, she asked quietly, ‘How long?’

  Sobs rolling in her throat Becky choked, ‘Four weeks.’

  Alice calculated swiftly. Eight months left, that was ample time, Becky would be in America long before the birth she could swear happened prematurely.

  She shook the sobbing girl. ‘Becky, it’s okay, your mother need never know, you and Earl will be married.’

  Becky shook her head. ‘No,’ she cried, ‘no, we won’t be married.’

  Alice’s confusion settled on her brow. Becky and Earl not be married! Why? Hadn’t he said his Commanding Officer had granted the necessary permission? He had even told her they could go ahead whenever it suited her, so why now was Becky saying they wouldn’t be married?

  ‘You don’t understand, Alice, Earl and me won’t be marryin’. Earl is gone!’

  ‘Gone? You mean he’s been posted away from Cosford, sent to some other camp? Well, that don’t mean nothin’, he can be recalled or you can go to wherever it is they’ve sent him and get married there.’

  ‘No.’ Becky laughed a dull hopeless laugh which barely left her throat. ‘No, I can’t Alice, he has gone back to America, and even if I could follow him there, it wouldn’t do no good. Earl Feldman already has a wife.’

  Placing the last of the letters her employer had signed into its envelope Katrin glanced at the inner office, the voices of the two men inside coming to her in a low uninterpretable hum.

  She had thought Isaac Eldon would have been imprisoned when it was discovered he and his grandson were in possession of maps denoting every steel mill, every iron foundry and every engineering works in Wednesbury, but that had not happened.

  Why? She stabbed the letter vexedly onto the finished pile, scattering the whole lot across the desk. The information she had given would have had to be investigated very quickly, yet nothing had come of it. Nothing? She snatched up the letters. Isaac Eldon had been presented to the King, how could an honour such as that have been managed when an allegation of treason had been made against him?

  There had been more to that day than handshakes and a tour of the factory, why else would Eldon have left the workshop minutes before the Royals? Why had he slipped away moments after being spoken to by a dark-suited official? Her father had of course been presented, he also had accompanied the King to explain the intricacies of Finished Cavity Forgings, yet no man had come to speak quietly with him, he had not been called away. What was it had Eldon treated differently to her father when both were equally involved in that project? But with the tour completed he had come to stand with her, had remained at her side while the King, Queen and their be-medalled gold-braided attendants had, to the cheers of the workers, proceeded out into the yard.

  But they had not immediately left the premises.

  Resentment kindled by suspicion flared a hot trail.

  She and her father had followed from the factory but there had been brought to a halt. The cars which had brought the visitors were still in the yard but there were no people other than chauffeurs and police guards. The company must have gone into the office block, to the room Arthur Whitman had been so anxious to have completed in readiness for that Royal visit. Dining room and boardroom, that had been a cover for what it was really meant for!

  But what other purpose had it served that afternoon? Prevented from returning to her own office by an apologetic policeman, she could only guess, but it was not guesswork as to who it was she had seen cross the ground at the rear of the factory.

  The afternoon had been deceptively bright, the sun giving the illusion of warmth while in reality it masked a coldness, a chill in the air which had her shiver. Her father had said he must return to his work at Titan and that she should wait inside the works, stay warm until things returned to normal. But she had not wanted to be in any workshop, the factory was not the place for Katrin Hawley; so she had stood until the deepening chill had her walk halfway around the building. It was then, just before she was turned back by yet another policeman, she had seen two figures.

  They had been walking away from Prodor toward the canal towpath which bordered the building. She had glimpsed them from the rear, one a little taller his flat cap and light brown foreman’s smock signifying a workman whose slight stoop to the shoulders attested to his being so much older than the shorter figure. The shorter figure! She had mused on that. Had it been a lad enquiring after employment in readiness for leaving school, a lad being turned away in respect of those very important visitors? But then would it not have been one of the police officers who prevented that youngster entering the works, as she had been prevented entering the offices?

  Instinct solidified into certainty as the hum of conversation within Whitman’s office ceased, he and Isaac Eldon coming out.

  It was Eldon she had seen going toward the towpath, Eldon and his grandson!

  But why leave the back way? Why the secrecy?

  Whatever it was, something had brought the boy to meet the King.

  Both of them should rightfully be locked away, the man in jail and the boy in a secure Borstal institution, yet instead they had been rewarded, given the privilege of meeting Royalty.

  How? Who had pulled the strings to clear them of an accusation of treason?

  The Devil takes care of his own! The Devil was Isaac Eldon’s guard and protector. The river of fire raging in Katrin turned rapidly to ice in her brain.

  Guards and protectors, even the very best of them sometimes had their attention drawn away. But hers would not be diverted. Katrin Hawley’s concentration and all of her detestation would remain centred on Isaac Eldon and each of his family until it destroyed them.

  Letters scooped again into a neat pile, Katrin looked up at the young woman whose progress had been halted by the departing Eldon.

  ‘I ’ave to see Kate . . . Miss Hawley, I would ’ave asked you, Mr Eldon, could I take a minute off but you wasn’t in the machine shop nor any place else I looked.’

  ‘There’ll be time for talkin’ after work.’

  ‘But there won’t, Mr Eldon.’ Alice Butler shook her head. ‘I be on the two ’til ten shift as you know and Kate won’t want me goin’ to see her that late at night.’

  Obviously having heard the somewhat agitated voice, Arthur Whitman had come to the door of his own office.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ He looked from Isaac to the girl not yet allowed to pass.

  ‘No.’ Isaac’s reply was terse. ‘It be one o’ the girls wantin’ to see Kat . . . Miss Hawley, but like I’ve said there be a time for talkin’ an’ that time don’t be durin’ work hours.’

  ‘Please, Mr Whitman, it’ll take no more than a couple of minutes and I’ll work through my tea break to make up for them.’

  Meeting the pleading glance, Arthur Whitman smiled. ‘Of course I will not override Mr Eldon should he insist you do not . . . er . . . transpose . . . a few minutes of your work time, but I am sure he will act as he sees fit.’

  Recognising a nod was as good as a wink, and warning that five minutes was all Alice could have, Isaac left.

  ‘Eh Kate, I had to come.’ Alice crossed to stand at Katrin’s desk. ‘It be Becky.’

  Becky? Placing the letters in the outgoing post tray Katrin frowned. What could be so important that Alice had come bounding in here?

  ‘Her and Earl, they ain’t gettin’ married.’

  ‘But it is all arranged, he has had permission and also clearance from the United States, hasn’t he?’

  ‘Ar.’ Alice nodded agreement.

  ‘Then why the delay?’

  ‘It ain’t no delay to that weddin’, it be a definite ending of it.’

  ‘Alice, how can it be ended when it has not yet been performed?’

  ‘I’ll tell you how; there won’t be no weddin’ for Becky ’cos Earl bloody Feldman be married already though he pays no mind to his wife nor to the four kids he’s fathered on other w
omen back home in America, nor will he pay mind to another one left ’ere in Wednesbury.’

  ‘Becky?’ Katrin’s interest sharpened.

  ‘Ar, Becky!’ The answer whispered fiercely across the desk. ‘Becky be pregnant, her be up the duff while that swine Feldman has got hisself sent back to them United bloody States where no doubt he’ll play his filthy game on some other wench who don’t have enough oil in her lamp to see what he be about, another wench who’ll ’ave no more sense than to trust him.’

  ‘How did Becky find out, about Earl I mean?’

  ‘I couldn’t go to Wolverhampton with her the last couple of Saturdays so her went to the Civic on her own. The rest of the Yanks we danced with were all there but not Feldman, he didn’t show either time . . . and when Becky asked his mates where he was they told her he’d gone home to the States. But that weren’t all what they told Becky, they told her about a wife and kids, said her could ask to see the Commanding Officer but doubted that would achieve anythin’; what that was meant to tell her was there could be no proof of Earl Feldman being the father.’

  That was understandable. Katrin remained silent with her thoughts. If Becky Turner had lain with one man, who was to say how many more she had had intercourse with? Who could definitely place the resulting pregnancy at Earl Feldman’s door?

  Alice leaned her hands on the desk. ‘Kate, I’m worried for Becky, worried what her will do to herself. The wench is terrified of what’ll happen once her mother finds out about this, Becky says her will have her put away in some place never to be brought out again.’

  ‘Surely not, Becky is foolish to think that of her mother.’

  ‘No, Kate. You don’t know Mary Turner, that woman be capable of doin’ anythin’ to keep her name from bein’ talked about by so called friends, and her callin’ herself Christian.’

  ‘But putting some people away, putting girls into an asylum just because they become pregnant yet cannot marry? That doesn’t happen any more.’

  ‘Don’t you believe it! My mother told me of it happening not a year gone, named names her did though I ain’t goin’ to repeat ’em. A young wench of sixteen were sent to an institution. The mother covering by saying her had a heart complaint and had died a month or so after; but you don’t have a daughter die and not have a funeral. I reckons my mother had the truth of it, wenches can be put away and that be the fear I have for Becky. So I come to see you Kate, to ask is there any way we can help ’cos if we don’t then Becky will surely kill herself.’

  29

  ‘I thinks it shameful the way your Jack were hauled off to the station, them police should be made to apologise.’

  ‘Apologise, them! They’ll be givin’ no apology, think they be above that; but I told ’em, come knockin’ at my door again wi’out rock solid proof of what they be there for and it’ll be the piss pot emptied over the lot of ’em, bloody Inspector an’ all!’

  ‘Some folk believes they can get away wi’ anything and bein’ wrong don’t seem to cause ’em no worry.’

  ‘Well, I’ll cause them coppers worry enough should they come for my lad again. He be no saint, that I knows, but he ain’t no killer neither.’

  Standing in the queue of women at the grocery shop, Katrin heard plainly the conversation going on a little ahead.

  ‘Be that what the police thought? Be that why he were arrested?’

  ‘That be the trouble, they d’aint stop to think!’ Polly Butler’s indignant retort rang across the line of customers, their own conversations put on hold.

  ‘. . . It were Jack Butler had lamped Slater that other time so it must be Jack Butler done the deed this time.’

  ‘Eh, Polly wench, that be terrible for you.’

  ‘Well, it weren’t no party I can tell you, but it be my lad had the worse of it, bein’ fetched away from his work while ’alf of Wednesbury looked on and the other ’alf a’ gloatin’. Yes, our Jack give Slater a hidin’ but what brother worth his salt wouldn’t ’ave done the same were it a sister of his got slapped. I tell you, Ginny, if our Jack hadn’t done what he did then it would ’ave been him as well as Slater got a pummelling ’cos I’d ’ave given it him meself no matter he be grown.’

  ‘And you wouldn’t ’ave been doin’ less than any mother would do, Polly.’

  The queue shuffled forward a few steps as a customer left the shop with her groceries.

  ‘I told them bobbies the same,’ Polly returned. ‘Told them straight out to their faces, a bloke who knocks a woman about deserves more than a hidin’, he deserves gaol, and that for a bloody long time!’

  ‘I agrees wi’ all you say, but Slater won’t be goin’ to gaol.’

  Katrin smiled to herself. Jim Slater would not be going to prison. He would be going to hell.

  ‘That be the worst part,’ Polly answered vindictively. ‘That swine should ’ave lived long enough to tell it weren’t our Jack set about him.’

  How long had he lived? Katrin felt her nerves twang. The Inspector who had called to interview her had said Slater was dead but he had not said whether he had died prior to or after being found. If it were prior, had Slater said who had thrust that broken bottle into his throat?

  ‘But they ain’t still holdin’ your lad, the police ’ave let him go, ain’t they?’

  ‘D’ain’t ’ave no option.’ Righteousness resounding in every note Polly Butler’s response dominated the shop. ‘My lad had the provin’ that it weren’t him had done for Jim Slater.’

  ‘That be a blessin’ Polly.’

  Regret registered in Ginny’s reply.

  ‘Not so much a one for that Inspector and the rest of them bobbies, they was ready to lock my lad up and forget where it was they’d put him, but now they ’as to go on lookin’ ’til they finds who it is be truly guilty.’

  The words fell heavily on Katrin. Had the police got some lead, some information? Could that information possibly point to her?

  ‘My lad had a witness!’

  A witness! Jack Butler had someone backing his claim of innocence! Had that witness seen what had happened?

  ‘Fact be he had more’n a dozen could vouch for him!’

  ‘He told ’em, but them bobbies wouldn’t listen.’ Polly slapped a handful of ration books onto the counter. ‘Kept him hours they did askin’ of the same questions time after time. It weren’t ’til he told ’em he’d answer nothin’ more lessen they spoke to others that they finally done what he asked and talked to his mates. Three lads he works alongside of had gone together with my lad straight from the foundry when their shift ended, that bein’ eight o’clock at night. They went straight over to the ’Ome Guard base where they was kept on duty ’til next mornin’ when the four of ’em walked ’ome together. Our Jack weren’t never gone from their sight nor that of the others of them ’Ome Guard lads not once. He were with them when Jim Slater got done in, that put the cobblebosh on that Inspector’s reckonin’, now he has to go lookin’ for the real culprit.’

  ‘Do the police ’ave any notion as to who that be? Did Jim Slater tell aught of who done it?’

  An expectant silence fell over the shop and Katrin feared the loud throb of blood in her veins must be heard. Would Fortune smile again or would it turn its face away?

  Polly watched several tawny coloured coupons fall to the counter. A warning note in her voice said firmly:

  ‘The bobbies won’t need no tellin’ of who it be has done for you ’Arold Pearks if you cuts more of them coupons than you should, you’ll be goin’ home light of a few things and them things won’t be no food coupons!’

  Behind the counter Harold Pearks smiled, his bushy grey eyebrows lifting. ‘I ain’t never cut too many up to yet, Polly.’

  ‘And you’d better go on not never cuttin’ too many, fact be you should ought to cut less of them there coupons for a good customer.’

  ‘Now that would bring the police to my door.’

  ‘Ar well,’ Polly answered his laugh with her own, ‘I’d far rathe
r they come a knockin’ of your door than mine.’

  The conversation drifting dangerously from the subject in hand Ginny shuffled her own ration books from the deep belly of a coarse hessian shopping bag.

  ‘I hopes they won’t come knockin’ on account of Jim Slater tellin’ it were Harold Pearks set about him.’

  ‘Ain’t likely, Ginny.’ The elderly man chuckled. ‘It be all I can do to set about me dinner these days.’

  ‘I knows the feelin’.’ Ginny returned. ‘Ain’t none of we got the energy these days, but saying that it seems somebody has got plenty, at least enough to set about Jim Slater; I only hopes he’s told the bobbies who it be.’

  Slapping a lump of butter between a pair of wooden pats before placing it on scales set to one side of the counter, Harold Pearks nodded affably, a grin deepening the wrinkles around his eyes. ‘So do I, Ginny.’ He removed the butter and wrapped it deftly in a square of greaseproof paper. ‘Just so long as he ain’t said it were me.’

  Keenly as she had followed the cutting of coupons and the weighing of the butter, Polly watched the fine wire slice deftly through a block of cheese, severing a portion which would serve no more than three days’ supply of dinner sandwiches and only then if it were cut thinner than moth wings.

  ‘Bobbies would ’ave no mind to that,’ she retorted, placing the cheese beside an equally meagre amount of butter. ‘Your mother don’t go lettin’ you out after dark.’

  The grocer handed Polly two dark blue paper bags, each containing one pound of sugar. ‘Weren’t you were spoke of . . .’

  Needle pricks of alarm jabbed at Katrin’s brain. Jim Slater had said something! Lord, why hadn’t she made certain he would never speak again? She should have stayed long enough to see the job thoroughly done, to see Jim Slater totally dead. But it was too late for ‘why’, too late for anything other than concocting an alibi, one which must negate all that Slater might have said; but what . . . how?

  ‘Them police d’ain’t say of nobody’s name. But then they wouldn’t,’ Polly was still speaking. ‘Kept a tight mouth did them police when I asked who it were my lad been brought in to pay the piper for their wrong tune, oh no! That Inspector weren’t answerin’ of that, though it weren’t in his reckonin’ that every tongue might not be tight as his’n.’