Winners and Losers by Catrin Collier Page B

gentlemen visitors.’
    â€˜I am not visiting, Mrs Palmer,’ Victor explained patiently. ‘Megan’s suitcase is heavy and I assumed she’d be sleeping in the attic.’ He held up the battered trunk, which Megan’s uncle had discarded as too large and cumbersome to take to Canada with him.
    â€˜I can carry Miss Williams’ case upstairs, Mrs Palmer.’ Wearing his cape and carrying his helmet, Sergeant Martin joined them.
    â€˜There’s no need to trouble yourself, Sergeant Martin,’ Joyce said stiffly.
    â€˜No trouble, Mrs Palmer.’ He looked Victor up and down, then stared at him. ‘I know you, don’t I?’
    â€˜We haven’t been introduced.’ One police officer in uniform was very like another to Victor, but there was something about the way the Sergeant was looking at Megan that set his teeth on edge.
    â€˜You’re Lloyd Evans’ brother.’
    â€˜That’s right.’ Victor met the sergeant’s steady gaze.
    â€˜Your father and brother are on the strike committee.’
    â€˜It’s not illegal to be a union man or sit on a strike committee,’ Victor replied.
    â€˜Yet!’ Sergeant Lamb strode up the street and joined them. ‘In my experience, wherever there’s trouble you’ll find the union men. Like last night, when my brother’s skull was fractured and several men were scalded.’
    â€˜The men on the committee try to stop any fighting before it starts,’ Victor countered loyally.
    â€˜How is your brother, Sergeant Lamb?’ Joyce enquired, anxious to break up the tense confrontation.
    â€˜Gravely ill, Mrs Palmer. He hadn’t regained consciousness when I left the Infirmary this morning.’
    â€˜I am sorry to hear that,’ Sergeant Martin said.
    â€˜As we’ve found out to our cost when dealing with the savages in this town, “sorry” doesn’t mend broken bodies.’ Sergeant Lamb pushed past Victor and Joyce and entered the house.
    Joyce moved from the doorway. ‘That suitcase does look heavy, Mr Evans, so I will allow you into the house just this once. If you’d follow me.’
    Victor removed his cap and waited for Megan to walk in ahead of him. Sergeant Martin placed his helmet on his head, gave Megan and Victor one last look and walked past them.
    â€˜I asked Lena, that’s the girl I took from the workhouse, to make up the second bed in her room for you. It’s next to my own on the attic floor.’ Joyce walked up the stairs and Victor and Megan followed.
    The first oak staircase was wide and imposing, the second marginally less so. The pine staircase that led from the second to the third floor was so narrow it would have been difficult for two adults to pass. The fourth was scarcely wide enough for a grown man, and Victor was forced to carry Megan’s case in front of him.
    Joyce passed the first door on the uncarpeted landing. ‘That is my room.’ She pointed to two doors opposite. ‘The linen and storage cupboards. You’ll find all the bed linen, spare pillows, blankets and upstairs dusters, and cleaning cloths in them, but I keep both locked, so you’ll have to come to me for the key, Megan.’ She opened the second door. ‘You may leave Megan’s suitcase here, Mr Evans.’
    Victor dropped it inside the door.
    â€˜After you’ve unpacked you’ll find me in the kitchen, Megan. It’s at the end of the long corridor to the right of the stairs. Don’t be long. I’ll see you out, Mr Evans.’
    Victor gave Megan a reassuring smile. He saw Joyce watching them and went ahead of her back down the stairs.
    Megan walked into the bedroom. It was surprisingly large and clean, but it was also cold and cheerless. The walls were whitewashed plaster, the floorboards unvarnished pine. Two iron bedsteads stood with their heads against the wall opposite the door. Both were made up with