Forgive and Forget (50 page)

After the interment in a chilly, windswept cemetery, they returned home, where Polly, with Violet’s help, had laid on a spread for anyone who came back to the house. It seemed as if most of them had, relishing the prospect of a warming cup of tea and a bite to eat. They crowded into the terraced house, standing with cup and plate balanced in their hands whilst they chatted in desultory tones.

‘He was such a good son to that mother of his. God rest her soul,’ Nelly Rawdon said, clasping Polly’s cold hand in hers. ‘But she didn’t deserve such devotion. She was a miserable old bat, though I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.’

‘And you’ve got a lovely son to remember him by.’ Ida nodded and then added, with deceptive nonchalance, ‘But I ’spect you won’t be on your own forever. Pretty young widow like you.’ She glanced around Polly’s front room as if searching for a particular young man.

‘Ida,’ Nelly chided warningly. ‘This ain’t the time nor the place for your speculations.’

Polly smiled weakly and vowed silently that no one should ever hear a word spoken against Roland and certainly not from her lips. The man who’d come home from the war had not been the real Roland and she would never tell anyone what had happened behind the lace curtains of their home. Only Leo knew and she wanted it to stay that way.

‘Michael, take Jacob upstairs and play with him would you? There’s a love,’ Violet, handing round sandwiches and cakes, said, ‘I’ll fetch you down when everyone’s gone.’

‘But, Mam, we’re hungry,’ the boy began.

‘Go on with you,’ Violet pushed him towards the stairs. ‘There’ll be plenty left for you and Jacob, I promise. Now take the little lad out of this.’

‘Do as yer mam ses, Michael,’ Micky said. ‘And I’ll take you and Jacob to the park later.’

‘Can we play football, Uncle Micky?’ Jacob piped up and when promised they could, both boys clattered up the stairs.

‘What fine boys they are, Micky,’ Ida said, sidling up to him. ‘You must be so proud of your son.’ There was a definite accent on the word
your
, but Micky only grinned and assured her that he certainly was and of his little wife, who’d coped so magnificently whilst he’d been away fighting.

Ida began to say something, but Nelly broke in saying loudly, ‘Aye, she were a little trooper. Worked like a good ’un, she did at the factory, even though she’d been used to better things in that fancy shop in the High Street. But for all that, she was soon one of us, weren’t she, Ida?’ Nelly dug a sharp elbow into Ida’s ribs. ‘Vi could stand up to old misery guts, Harry Barnes, even better than us lot who’ve been there years. She’s a way with her, all right.’

Ida was nodding vigorously. ‘Aye, she certainly had, specially with all the . . .’

‘Right, Ida Norton, time you and me was going home.’ Nelly almost snatched the plate out of Ida’s hand and grasped her arm in one smooth movement. ‘Bye, Micky. Glad to see you back, lad, safe an’ sound. Now, don’t you go catching this flu, will yer?’

Micky winked at Nelly and grinned. He was fully aware of the tales that Ida Norton would have liked to tell him about Violet’s antics whilst he’d been away. He’d heard them all from his dad or the fellers in the pub. But he didn’t care. He’d been to hell and back in the trenches and he’d survived without serious injury. Whatever Vi had been up to in his absence didn’t unduly worry him; she was still here waiting for him and as ready and willing for his loving as she’d ever been.

He looked across the room at Polly. At her white, drawn face and thought yet again how lovely she was and how life had dealt her a rough deal. He’d never understood why she’d married Roland, good man though he’d been, but now maybe she’d have a chance at real happiness given a decent interval. He hoped so. Deep in his heart, he still loved her and he always would, but that was a secret that only he and Polly shared. But he’d watch out for her; he would always watch out for her.

When they’d all gone except for Violet, Micky and Leo, Polly loaded two plates with sandwiches and cakes and called the boys down.

‘I’d best be going too, Poll.’ Leo put his hands on her shoulders as footsteps clattered down the stairs. ‘If there’s anything I can do – anything at all – just let me know. Promise, now.’

Polly nodded. ‘I will and – and thank you, Leo.’

As the front door closed behind him, Violet said softly, ‘He still loves you, you know. I don’t think he’s ever stopped.’

‘Not now, Vi,’ Polly whispered. ‘Now’s not the time.’

It seemed to those around her, to those who loved and cared about her, that it was never going to be the right time for Polly to face up to the love that still existed between herself and Leo.

Roland’s will, made before he’d left for the Front, had left all his worldly goods to Polly. Her name was now on the rent book and she had a little money in the bank. But a week after Roland’s funeral she returned to school and the job she loved. She buried herself in work and caring for Jacob.

She saw little of Leo and that was how she wanted it. The riots and their consequences had faded into the past. Her father had regained his job and was holding on to it even after the war had ended, for many of those who’d enlisted had not returned or had come back so badly maimed they could not take up their old employment. And the bitter memories were fading, if not quite forgotten. That time was rarely spoken of now, for a greater, more widespread catastrophe had overtaken their city, one that had left countless families mourning loved ones.

Even Polly had forgiven Leo for his part in her father’s arrest and imprisonment and, it seemed, so too had William.

In midsummer of 1919 he came to Polly’s home one evening after work.

‘Hello, Dad,’ she said, surprised to see him on the doorstep. Her face clouded. ‘Something wrong?’

‘Now, lass, why would you always be thinking sum-mat’s wrong?’

She smiled wryly. ‘Well, I’m not very often honoured by a visit from you without an invitation, am I? Are Stevie and Miriam all right?’

‘They’re fine. And Miriam’s turning into a wonderful little housewife. She looks after us a treat.’ He smiled slowly at her. ‘Almost as good as you did, Poll.’

‘Oh, I’m sure she’s better than ever I was.’

William shook his head and said seriously, ‘No, Poll, no one could have done a better job than you – not even your poor mam, God rest her soul. I never realized it at the time, but you had such a heavy burden to bear and I didn’t help you like I could have done – like I
should
have done. I wasn’t a very good dad, Poll, I know that. Yar mam always kept me on the straight and narrow, but after we lost her, well, I went a bit wild. You did your best, but no one could have expected a slip of a girl to keep me in check.’ He looked straight at her and held her gaze. ‘What I’m trying to say to you, love, is that whatever happened to me was me own fault. It wasn’t yours and – it wasn’t Leo’s neither. The lad was only doing what he had to: his duty. It’s time to move on. It’s time you made it up with him, Poll.’ He leaned across the table towards her. ‘D’you know summat, lass, that lad has never had another girl. Not even after you upped and married Roland. He’s always loved you – and he still does. And – ’ he leant back in the chair again – ‘if I’m not mistaken, you still love him.’

As she opened her mouth to speak he put up his hand, ‘And don’t try to deny it, Poll, ’cos I won’t believe you and neither will anyone else who’s got eyes in their heads.’

Quietly, she said, ‘I wasn’t going to, Dad, but it’s not even six months since Roland died and – and . . .’ Her head drooped.

‘And?’

Hoarsely, she whispered, ‘I can’t stop blaming myself for Roland’s death.’

‘Eh? What on earth d’you mean? He died of the flu, like a good many more.’

‘He caught the flu from me, Dad. I brought it into this house – to a man weakened by the war – and he caught it from me.’

‘Oh, Polly, Polly, why must you go on blaming yourself for everything? It wasn’t your fault you caught flu and he got it too. He could have got it anywhere.’

‘But he wanted me to give up working at the school, stay at home and look after him and Jacob, but I – I disobeyed him.’

‘Disobeyed him?’ William was genuinely puzzled, then his expression cleared. ‘Oh, I see it. You’re thinking of your marriage vows, eh? Promising to love, honour and obey. Is that it?’

When Polly nodded, he laughed wryly. ‘Well, a lot of us men’d give our eye teeth to have our wives remember that particular bit of the service, lass. And I include your mam in that, an’ all. Sarah? Obey me? That’s a laugh!’

Despite the seriousness of their conversation, a smile twitched at Polly’s mouth. ‘She was a strong woman, wasn’t she?’

William nodded. ‘She was. And you’re very like her, Polly. You’ve had it tough in your young life, but I’ve never heard one word of complaint pass your lips. You’ve just got on with it. And now you’ve to do it again. But this time you must think of yourself. What you want. And if it’s Leo Halliday – and he still wants you – then you have my blessing.’ He heaved himself up from the chair. ‘That’s all I’ve got to say, lass.’ As he passed by her on his way out, he touched her shoulder. Quietly, in a voice that was not quite steady, he said, ‘You deserve a bit of happiness, Poll. Real happiness.’

He left her sitting deep in thought in the dusk of a summer’s evening, watching the shadows lengthen in the backyard.

It was the summer holidays, so there was no school. Her time was filled with caring for Jacob and cleaning the house from top to bottom. She threw out all the old musty bedlinen, tablecloths and curtains that Roland’s mother had stored for years in cupboards and ottomans.

‘Hello, duck, what brings you here?’ Albie greeted her and Jacob. ‘Now then, Jacob, me lad. We aren’t half missing you, me and the missus.’ He winked at Jacob. ‘We’ll be glad when school starts and yar mam lets us look after you again.’

Polly smiled at him. ‘You’re very good to us, Albie, but Jacob starts school in September.’

When she saw the big man’s face fall, she knew that he’d enjoyed having Jacob to care for almost as much as Selina had.

‘Aw, that’s a pity. My Selina’ll miss you summat rotten.’ His face brightened. ‘But mebbe yar mam’ll let you come round and see us after school, eh? Now, what can I do for you?’

‘I’m after some new material, Albie. I’ve been having a clear-out and we need some new curtains and cushions and, oh, all sorts of things, don’t we, Jacob?’

The boy nodded solemnly. ‘Mam’s going to sew me some new sheets for my bed.’

‘You’ve got a sewing machine then?’

Polly laughed. ‘Good Heavens, no! I do it all by hand.’

‘It’ll take you weeks and you’ll likely strain your eyes.’

Polly sighed. ‘Well, I’ve plenty of time on my hands. Once Jacob’s in bed, there’s – there’s nothing else to do.’ Her voice trailed away and Albie couldn’t help noticing the wistfulness in her tone.

‘Mmm.’ The big man was thoughtful. ‘You need a machine if you’re going to do all that sewing, lass. Tell you what, you nip over to Vince’s stall. I know he’s got a nice little Singer sewing machine there.’

Polly’s eyes widened and reading the meaning in them Albie laughed. ‘It’s all right. All above board, ’cos I know where it came from. An’ you tell him I sent you and he’ll treat you right, else he’ll have me to answer to.’

‘But I don’t know how to use one, Albie.’

‘Oh, that’s no problem. Selina’ll show you.’ He chuckled and nodded towards Jacob. ‘And it’ll give her an excuse to see this little chap.’

Polly approached Vince Norton’s stall, feeling an unaccustomed nervousness.

‘Hello, Poll, what you doin’ here?’ Micky popped up from behind the stall and grinned at her.

‘I – er – Albie tells me Vince has got a sewing machine for sale.’

‘That’s right. Why, d’you want it?’

‘Er – well – yes. I think so.’

‘Going to take in sewing as well as teaching kids their A, B, C and wiping snotty noses?’

Polly pursed her lips primly. ‘Behave yourself, Micky Fowler, else I’m off. Besides, what are you doing on Vince’s stall? I thought you didn’t work for him any more? I thought you’ve been with Albie since you came back?’

Micky sobered at once. ‘I am, an’ I mean to keep me job with him, but we all help each other out now and again and Albie sent me across here this morning. Now let’s see if we can find this machine . . .’

Later than evening, Micky struggled to Polly’s home with the sewing machine. He set it on the table.

‘Albie says Selina’ll come round in the morning and get you going.’

Polly fingered the curve of the wooden case lovingly.

There was silence between them until Polly looked up and found Micky watching her. ‘Are you all right, Poll?’ he asked softly.

She forced a smile. ‘I’m fine.’

He sighed and shook his head. ‘You can’t fool me, Polly. I’ve known you – and loved you – for a long time. Remember?’

‘Micky, don’t. Please don’t.’

‘It’s all right, I’m not going to embarrass you. I just want you to be happy, Poll. That’s all. Once, I was as jealous as hell of Leo and the way you loved him, but now I’d give anything to see you happy with him. Why don’t you – ?’