A Woman Unknown (43 page)
I put down the letter. Did Philippa know that King had gone with Caroline Windham? Perhaps she would not mind where her former secretary went, now that she was starting her life anew. I began to read again.
There is something else which I hesitate to mention in case I am being premature, but I do so because you and I have a great respect for each other and have always been honest. (Sometimes you were more honest than my vanity would have wished!) I met a young lady on board and I know that ship’s romances are common and do not always last, but I have some hopes that I may have found someone who will want to share my terrible policeman’s life. If this turns out to be true, you will be the first to know, dear Kate.
I paused in my reading. Well thank God for that.
The rest of his letter was filled with the sights of New
York, the strangeness of the streets, how differently things were done there, and that the next morning he would take a train to Washington DC.
He said nothing more about the woman he had met on board. I wished him well, and hoped she was not an undercover agent for the Mafia who would trip him up before he began.
My mother swept in for breakfast. ‘Both of you with letters. Anything interesting?’
Aunt Berta shook her head. ‘Another friend trying to wangle an invitation to meet the famous Kate.’
Mother laughed. ‘How about your letter, Katie? I might as well be nosey.’
‘It’s from Marcus. He seems very happy to be in America.’
Mother smiled brightly. ‘Good.’ She turned to her sister. ‘Your guest list for this evening, Berta. I think you said one of the men is very keen to meet Kate.’
Thanks to Ann Hazan, good friend and seasoned racegoer, for her winning tips. My uncle, Peter Brannan, would have been pleased at his resurrection in his old occupation as bookmaker’s clerk for Willie Price.
Tom Howley, formerly Father of the Chapel at Yorkshire Post Newspapers, generously shared his knowledge.
Thanks to retired police officer Ralph Lindley and his wife Mary, who kindly discussed the case with me.
Noel Stokoe, editor of the
Jowetteer
, and author of several books on the Jowett (a motor that contained “all the best bits of Yorkshire except the pudding”) advised on Kate’s change of vehicle.
Stuart Walker helpfully drew on his knowledge of country pursuits to answer my questions regarding grouse shooting.
It is always a pleasure to hear from readers. Eddie Kelly
wondered when Sykes would visit his local, the Chemic, for a pint. Cheers, Eddie.
As lapsed and unlapsed Catholics will know, the Sisters of the Sacred Candle of St Genevieve should have existed but never did. The long-demolished area of Leeds called the Bank was real enough; life there would have been desperate without the dedicated work of the Little Sisters of the Poor.
Shady prodigal, Anthony Hartigan, was inspired by Owney Madden who went from the Bank to New York, via Wigan, and became well known to the FBI. In his highly readable and authoritative
The English Godfather
, Graham Nown gives Madden’s place of birth as Somerset Street. A surviving relative places him on Cotton Street, and says that Madden’s famous Harlem Cotton Club was named after the street on the Bank. Fact or legend? – no contest.
Very special thanks to my agent, Judith Murdoch, to editor, Lucy Icke, and all at Piatkus.