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Authors: Irene Carr

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BOOK: Katy's Men
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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 sailors 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 the 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.’


I’m sorry, Matt.’ Katy hesitated, then added, ‘I couldn’t do that, couldn’t have you tormented that way, when you were thousands of miles from home.’

Matt
sighed, ‘I guessed that would be it.’ He was silent for a time, staring past Katy absently, recalling the experience. His eyes returned to her and he said, ‘I talked to Fleur. I told her all I’d found out and that from now on she had to live on the allowance I send her from my Army pay. I’ll support her because she is my wife, so long as she is faithful to me.’ He stopped there because he had caught a flicker of change in Katy’s expression, gone as quickly as seen, but he seized on it: ‘What is it? You know something, Katy.’ His hand reached out and gripped hers. His voice rose, demanding,
‘Tell
me
! It cut through the hum of conversation in the room, stilled the other voices and the girls and men turned their heads to stare.

Katy
begged, ‘Matt! Please! Don’t make a scene here!’

He
followed her glance and saw the others watching. They looked away from his glare but when he went on he lowered his voice. He was still insistent, still clamped Katy’s slim fingers in his own. ‘Well?’

She
confessed, ‘There’s a man.’ She was sure there had been more than one but would not say. One was bad enough. ‘He was living in the house. I saw him, talked with him. The maid told me he and Fleur were living together.’

Matt
said softly, ‘Dear God! And I loved her. Her extravagance and moods and the way she used to try to manipulate me, I learnt about all these after we were wed but I made excuses for her, told myself she would change back to the girl I’d fallen for. But that girl never really existed. She was just a pretence. What’s that saying? “All things to all men.” That was Fleur.’

He
released Katy’s hands and now she reached out to hold his. ‘I’m sorry, Matt.’ She could have wept for him.

Matt
was not going to weep. He stood up and said grimly, ‘It’s time to put a finish to this. Now.’ He looked up at the clock. ‘I can just catch the next train out of King’s Cross.’ He looked down at Katy, now on her feet. ‘I’m sorry, Katy. This has been a rough ride for you. Thank you for all you did.’

He
started for the door, long striding, and Katy pursued him. She caught up with him outside on the pavement. ‘Matt! Wait! Don’t go off like this!’ A motor car with hooded headlights because of the blackout, a Vauxhall like that used by Matt before the war, pulled into the kerb and Matt shouted, ‘Cab?’

The
driver, swathed in a khaki greatcoat, responded, ‘No, this is a private car.’

Katy
clutched Matt’s sleeve and pleaded, ‘Don’t get yourself into more trouble! She’s done enough damage to you!’

BOOK: Katy's Men
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