Free Katy's Men by Irene Carr Page B

thought that he and Joe had always drunk beer before because it was all they could afford. As Alice left the room he also thought that Joe had done very well for himself: a nice house, business of his own that was flourishing and a cook/nursemaid. But Joe himself was not doing so well. To Matt’s eyes he looked to have a yellowish tinge and to have lost weight.
    They sat down by the fire and Joe leaned forward to say eagerly, ‘I’m really glad to see you, Matt. I’ve been doing the best I can but I can’t work like I used to. There’s lots of jobs I could pick up but I’ve had to let them go.
    Now you’re here — but I’ll take you down to the yard in the morning and you can see the business.’
    They chatted about old friends and places while they waited for their meal and it was all of twenty minutes before Alice entered, simpering, and announced, ‘I’m ready to serve now.’ The drab brown dress had been replaced by a newer, smarter affair in pale blue with a noticeable décolletage and her hair was now piled on the top of her head. Her smile never faltered all the way through dinner.
    The next morning Matt went with Joe to see the yard. It lay down by the river and was reached after walking through long streets of terraced houses built for the shipyard workers. The shipyards were close by with their towering cranes and the battering noise of the riveting hammers. The children running in the streets were ragged or wore patched clothes and some were barefoot in the summer weather. Joe muttered, ‘We were brought up like this but I want something better for my daughter.’
    They came to padlocked gates set in a high wall and painted with the words: J. Docherty. Haulier. Joe used a key to unlock the gates and then swung them open. The yard inside was square, cobbled and half the size of a football pitch. Matt saw, on the left-hand side of the yard, a stable and a shed or garage. A cart and a lorry stood before these buildings on a square of concreted hard-standing. Joe pointed to the lorry: ‘Dennis three-ton flatbed —’ He broke off and laughed, ‘But you can see that! I can’t tell you anything about lorries!’ Matt shrugged modestly and Joe went on, ‘I’ve got a canvas housing I can rig on it if I’m carrying furniture. I just use the horse and cart for local, small stuff.’ The horse hung its head over the stable door, watching them. Joe explained, ‘The garage is big enough for both the Dennis and the cart and I put them inside during the winter. I don’t bother this time o’ year, though.’
    Matt stroked the horse’s nose but his eyes were on the Dennis. It could have been cleaner. He asked, ‘What about maintenance?’
    Joe flapped a hand, ‘She’s due for a service but I haven’t been too good these last few days.’
    Matt thought this was not like the old Joe Docherty. His gaze shifted to the building on the right side of the yard, opposite the garage and back from the gate. It had two floors, with windows and a door facing him. While curtains sagged at the upstairs windows, those on the ground floor were uncurtained and Matt could see a desk inside. He nodded at it: ‘Is that the office?’
    Joe agreed, ‘Right. Come and have a look.’ They crossed the yard and Joe slid his hand into a crack between doorstep and door sill and took out a key. He grinned, ‘Always keep it there.’ He turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door, then apologised, embarrassed, ‘Sorry, it’s a bit scruffy in here. I haven’t had time to clear it up lately.’
    The desk was littered with papers, the old swivel chair was dirty and the bare floorboards needed sweeping. There was a thin layer of dust over everything and a cobweb hung in one corner. The office ran back for some twenty feet but a counter bestrode it halfway. There was a flap that could be lifted up to let people pass behind it. The walls past the counter held shelves, empty and dusty. Joe explained, ‘I think the place was