Free Katy's Men by Irene Carr

the business but still make a profit. Now Arthur asked, ‘What about bills?’
    Katy pointed her pen at one of two neat piles of invoices. ‘I’ve done those — and I’ll have finished the others before long and then I’ll take them to the post.’
    Arthur grunted acknowledgment and waddled out of the office — he had put on a lot of weight in the past two years. Katy got on with her work, glancing up occasionally to peer out of the window when the carts, steam wagons and lorries rolled out through the gates, on their way to their work for the day. All the drivers waved to her as they went by. Katy was popular with them, and not only because she worked out their pay and overtime correctly, but because she always had a smile for them at the start and end of the day.
    Because of her involvement in working out their pay, she had made a claim for better pay for herself and had it granted, in part at least. Katy had pointed out that young male clerks were being paid fifteen shillings a week. Vera Spargo had reluctantly agreed to pay Katy ten shillings a week because she was being fed. That was twice what she had earned as a maid. She knew she was still underpaid and so did the Spargos, but for the moment she was content. While her father still got his ten shillings a month, Katy was able to live frugally but also to save a little. That was important because she planned to escape from the Spargos. To do that she needed enough money to pay for lodgings until she found work elsewhere and there was no knowing how long that might take. She was still fearful of the charge of vagrancy — and the workhouse.
    At mid-morning Vera Spargo came to the office, as she did each day, to ask, ‘What’s going on?’
    And Katy told her what work was being done and where: ‘Vic is shifting some furniture for a couple in Hendon moving to Bishopwearmouth, Jim’s lorry is taking a load to Durham . .
    Vera listened intently to the list of jobs and their prices and at the end nodded grudging satisfaction: ‘That sounds all right. Now, I’ve got a carpenter coming to do some work on the house, a feller called Howard Ross. He’s not been here before, so when he comes you direct him round to the kitchen door.’
    ‘ Yes, Mrs Spargo.’
    So Vera went off with a curt nod and Katy returned to her work. She still had respect for, and fear of, Vera and acknowledged that she ran the business, rather than Arthur. But Katy also knew, from her reading of Motor Traction , how a yard like that of the Spargos should be run. Vera was better at it than Arthur but was still far from perfect. The general untidiness was just an example of the sloppiness. Poor and infrequent servicing of the vehicles was another . . .
    An hour later Katy heard the clip - clop ! of trotting hooves and a pony pulling a smartly varnished trap passed between the entrance gates and was reined to a halt outside the office. Its driver jumped down and came to stand tall at the open window. With his blond hair that crinkled and his blue eyes smiling he reminded Katy, with a pang, of Charles Ashleigh. But it was a very slight pang; time had healed. And this was not Charles but a young man called Howard Ross. He wore overalls and carried his tools in a brown canvas bag. ‘I’ve come to do a job for Mrs Spargo.’
    Katy returned the smile and leaned over her desk to point a slim finger: ‘You’ll find her up at the house. She’s expecting you, but go round to the back and use the kitchen door.’
    He asked, ‘Are you Mrs Spargo’s daughter?’
    Katy kept the smile in place while thinking, No, thank God! She said, ‘I’m just the clerk. There is a son but no daughter.’
    ‘ Ah!’ There was an involuntary hint of disappointment in that exclamation, but he stood there another second or two, appraising, then said, ‘I’ll see you again.’ He waved and vaulted easily into the trap and the pony walked on up to the house.
    Katy watched him go. She was used to young men eyeing her