She had achieved the desired result. Katrin acknowledged the murmured sympathy then went on. ‘My father may go straight from work to complete his duty as a Fire Warden, in which case it will be quite late before he gets home.’
The hat rotated several times while its owner pursed his lips as though seeking the answer to some virtually impossible problem. The Inspector nodded. ‘Then maybe he will call at the station, and you with him, of course, Miss Hawley.’
That was not what she wanted. Too many people saw the comings and goings at that police station and Katrin Hawley preferred not to be among those observed. Thinking quickly she said, ‘Inspector, I know the law says a parent should be present at any discussion but might I ask the reason of your coming to this house? If I can tell my father then he will not have a possibly sleepless night worrying what this is connected with.’
The Inspector shook his head. ‘Best not, Miss, the law be the law and needs be abided by.’
‘Of course.’ Katrin assented with a smile she felt no affinity with. ‘The law states a child can work for its living from fourteen years old, that boys can and must fight for their country on being eighteen and as for girls and women they can become auxiliary members of the Armed Forces from that same age while others up to the age of forty must work in engineering, agriculture or allied trades. Yet the rule of law ordaining that is the same rule of law which deems a person must reach the age of twenty one before they are seen to be responsible for themselves; a little ironic, don’t you think, Inspector?’
‘We might not all agree with the law, Miss Hawley, but we must all adhere to it.’
His eyes held a slightly amused look. Like an argumentative child, Katrin felt she had been treated to a timely slap on the wrist.
She had been showing him to the door when her father had arrived home unexpectedly, explaining he had wanted to ensure his daughter was prepared for any air raid. The Inspector nodded understandingly and agreed to stay and conduct the interview there rather than have them call next day at the station.
‘
On the evening of the . . .
’
The Inspector consulted a notebook taken hurriedly from his breast pocket then continued, ‘
were you approached by Mr James Slater?
’
Alice would have said as much during his visit to Cross Street; so she replied yes, then gave an account of what had passed between them, an account which made no reference to illegal ration books.
‘
You should have told, told me about Slater, Katrin, I would have dealt with him
.’
Taking her silence as evidence of distress, Jacob had passed a comforting arm around his daughter’s shoulders.
‘
Did you at any time after that evening . . .
’
‘
I did not meet with him.
’
The Inspector said he had a witness who claimed otherwise, that Slater had been seen outside the Prodor works.
‘
That is not entirely correct
,’ she glanced at her father as though seeking assurance, then with his brief nod continued. ‘
The term “meet with” implies a face to face encounter or perhaps a mutually agreed assignation. This did not occur between myself and Mr Slater, though for several mornings I saw him on my way to work.
’
‘
You saw him? But you did not speak with him?
’
‘
That is what she said!
’ Jacob intervened angrily. ‘
And that swine Slater better not try bothering her again or he’ll find out what dealing with a man can be like
.’
Sharp black eyes switched to Jacob. ‘
Have you met with him? Warned him against approaching Miss Hawley?
’
‘
No!
’ Jacob snapped. ‘
But that doesn’t go to say I wouldn’t have had I heard of this before tonight
.’
‘
Miss Hawley, why did you not tell your father of Slater’s accosting you?
’
‘
Inspector
,’ she answered quietly, ‘
my father has had a great deal to worry over for some time now, his employer will corroborate that; I had no wish to add to that worry
.’
The Inspector returned the conversation to the matter of his visit.
‘
Was that the only time you saw him?
’
A shake of the head added emphasis to the unhesitating reply
‘
No. I also saw Mr Slater one evening. He was standing across the way from the entrance to the Prodor factory. I was with two friends, Alice Butler and Becky Turner. I did not speak to Mr Slater, though Alice did. She went to talk with him and I believe he got angry and struck her across the face
.’
‘
And after that, the three of you walked home together?
’
That was to be his
tour de force
, or as local idiom would put it, ‘a crab to catch an apple’.
‘
Only as far as the White Horse
. . .’ She named the Hotel which had long stood as a local landmark. ‘
Alice and Becky went on along Holyhead Road leaving me to follow Lower High Street, to the Market Square
.’
She deliberately left off her explanation at that point, waited for the question she knew would come.
‘
From the Market Square you then proceeded along Spring Head?
’
Her simple ‘no’ had been met with a quizzical frown. ‘
But doesn’t going the way of Spring Head cut the journey to Hollies Drive quite considerably?
’
‘
Certainly
,’ she replied coolly. ‘
And I would normally take that way during daytime but at night it is not so frequented by people and so I prefer to come home by way of the High Bullen
.’
‘
I understand.
’
‘
And understand this
,’ Jacob added. ‘
I will be speaking to Slater
.’
Rising to his feet to intimate the interview was at an end, the Inspector levelled his gaze at Jacob.
‘
That be your right and privilege, Mr Hawley, but don’t go expecting any answer; you see, James Slater is dead.
’
27
The office which had been assigned to Isaac Eldon as works manager, yet been all too rarely put to that use was to be redesigned. For a new manager? Had Arthur Whitman finally got round to appointing someone to that position when he had been in London? Certainly he had held no interview here at Prodor.
‘I thought it would serve the purpose very well, what do you think, Katrin?’
She had thought that office, that job, as good as hers! Hadn’t she proved herself as good as any man at handling the business of the factory, hadn’t she been every bit as efficient in the running of the office as Harriet Simpson had been?
‘Not so big as to be daunting yet large enough to accommodate a fair-sized table and chairs; yes, I think that office should fit the bill all right, don’t you?’
‘Maybe I could answer if I knew what the “bill” is you are talking about.’
‘Sorry.’ Whitman gave a brief shake of his head. ‘I thought I’d told you. Christ, there are so many things to think of a man can lose his reason trying to keep track of them.’
Hence the newly appointed manager! Maintaining a smile which inside held all the warmth of an arctic winter, Katrin replied, ‘Well, if you tell me now then it will be at least one thing hasn’t got itself lost.’
All she needed was the name of the man who had landed himself the position she had thought would be hers. A man! What if it were not a man, but a woman? What if he had appointed a woman as works manager? It was not inconceivable. And was Arthur Whitman bringing her here to Wednesbury to fill a vacancy other than that at Prodor? Was she coming here to fill the position of Arthur Whitman’s wife?
‘It’s the staff dining room, I’d thought it could wait but given the circumstances . . . having the works canteen re-vamped seems more important, help to keep up the workers’ morale.’ He shuffled the papers lying under his hand. ‘But with government representatives coming her more and more often I realise the need not only for a quieter area for them to eat, but one where sensitive issues could be discussed more privately, in other words a board room. Seems a bit grand for a small engineering works, but Prodor will not always be small, nor will it only be here in the Black Country; it will grow and grow and with it the integrity of its name and the reliability of its products; Prodor will be recognised the world over.’ He laughed. ‘I’m rambling on, but then you listen so well, Katrin.’
Listen and learn. The tension of those earlier minutes drained from Katrin. There was to be no newly appointed manager.
A private dining room for visitors and staff. Katrin smiled down at the keys, her fingers pressing with rapid confident movements. And Katrin Hawley was still virtually in charge.
‘Look ’ere Mr Whitman, I knows these folk from the Defence Ministry be important, but so does the work bein’ done ’ere an’ I prefers to get on wi’ that ’stead of standin’ around talkin’, more so when the folk I be talkin’ to don’t ’ave no more understandin’ of what it is bein’ told ’em than they ’ave o’ flyin’ in the air wi’out wings.’
‘I understand how you feel Isaac, but needs must when the Devil calls.’
‘If you says so!’ Isaac Eldon snorted exasperatedly; ‘But don’t you go a’bein’ surprised if you hears me tellin’ o’ the Devil where he can go.’
Nothing would surprise him less. A smile hovering about his mouth, Arthur Whitman glanced at his watch. These last few days had not been easy; lying was not something he agreed with, nor was it his particular forte; it would be a hell of a relief when this particular ‘Devil’ was lifted from his shoulders.
‘I have to say I agree with Isaac, we are both of more use in the workshops, that new machinery—’
‘Can wait! Oh Christ, Jacob I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.’
‘Forget it, we have all been under a lot of stress.’
Why had it been decided they need come here? Arthur Whitman glanced again at his watch, a nervous harassed move. Disturbance to the working day was a hindrance in time of peace, but in wartime hindrance became a hazard, a danger that time lost in producing armaments allowed the enemy that much more time to increase its stranglehold on the world. Would it not have been more convenient to have Isaac, Jacob and himself travel to London, to meet with people there? No! His brain answered immediately. Most folk of Wednesbury considered themselves fortunate to get an annual day outing to Bewdley, to sit beside the river with a home-made sandwich and tea from a flask; or maybe a trip to Clent to walk among grass not turned black by smoke and grime from the chimneys of a thousand iron and steel works, where the daytime sky was a canopy of blue dotted with milk-white cloud, not the grey poured into it by the issue of those same chimneys. No. He glanced at the two men locked in discussion. To suddenly whisk them off to London would create a stir, whys and wherefores would not remain within the confines of this factory. Despite being reminded by placards plastered over walls that ‘Loose Talk Costs Lives’, human nature being just that – human – talk of a trip to London would have spread across the town as unstoppable as the very smoke that choked it.
‘Mr Whitman, you asked me to remind you of the time.’
Turning to thank Katrin as she entered his office, Arthur Whitman smiled grimly. This was one moment he would never need reminding of, one a frontal lobotomy would not have him forget. A retinue of cars swept through the factory gates as he muttered, ‘I wasn’t at liberty to tell either of you about this beforehand, it all had to be done under the tightest security! It was all so strictly hush-hush I was afraid to let myself even think about it!’
‘It be as well you said naught for ’ad I known o’ this then neither the Devil ’isself nor all the cohorts o’ hell would ’ave fetched me ’ere today.’
Isaac spoke through gritted teeth as he watched the procession of uniformed men, acres of medals flashing bravely across each left breast, follow behind one whose decoration outshone the rest.
‘Then what would I have told our distinguished visitors?’ Whitman murmured, shifting anxiously foot to foot.
‘That would ’ave been your worry.’ Isaac’s mouth dried as the parade moved nearer. ‘You and Jacob be better at talkin’ wi’ folk than I be, so if there be questions asked then you answer ’em.’
‘Mr Eldon and Mr Hawley, the designers of the machinery and method of producing Finished Cavity Shell Forgings.’
Isaac heard the introduction as if from a distant place. Then his hand was taken by the foremost member of the group.