Forgive and Forget (11 page)

‘I reckon I’ve got my hands full now, Mrs Halliday,’ Polly blurted out, almost before she’d got into the kitchen and sat down.

Bertha Halliday’s shrewd glance raked the young girl’s face. ‘Summat wrong, lass? Out wi’ it then.’

Polly sighed.

‘Mebbe I’m making summat out of nothing, but I’m not sure I like the company our Eddie’s keeping.’ Once again, she made no reference to Leo’s warning.

‘Ah.’ Bertha placed a fireguard in front of the open fire and then set Miriam down on the hearthrug where they could both watch her. She tipped some battered toy bricks onto the floor for the baby to play with.

‘I take it you’re talking about Micky Fowler?’

Polly nodded.

‘Well, his family’s a bit rough, I grant you, and his older brother’s been in a bit of bother with the police. Oh, it’s common knowledge,’ she added swiftly, anxious not to let Polly think she was breaking any of her son’s confidences. ‘Leo doesn’t tell me about his work and I never ask. It wouldn’t do.’

Polly hoped Bertha would think the redness in her cheeks was caused by the fire’s heat. But the woman’s words had told her just what a risk Leo had taken in warning her about Eddie and his cronies. The thought warmed her.

‘He’s never been in prison,’ Bertha went on. ‘The brother, I mean, but he ended up in court once and was – what do they call it? – bound over.’

‘So, what do you think of Micky?’

Bertha wrinkled her forehead before answering. ‘Not much, if I’m honest. He’s a cheeky little varmint, an’ he’s already eyeing up the lasses, young though he is.’

‘I reckon he’s about a year older than me, isn’t he?’

‘He’s fifteen,’ Bertha replied promptly. ‘I know, ’cos I delivered him and I keep a diary with all the birthdays of the kiddies I’ve helped bring into the world.’ Now the older woman met Polly’s gaze. ‘It’s you I’d be more worried about than your brother. Falling for the young rascal’s charms.’

Polly laughed aloud. ‘Oh, you’ve no need to worry about
me
, Mrs Halliday.’ Then her laughter died. ‘But I tell you who I am worried about. Our Violet. Her face lights up when he comes to call for Eddie and, if she knows he’s coming, she puts a clean pinafore on and a pink ribbon in her hair.’ At the mention of the ribbon, Polly was reminded of what Violet was capable of, and her anxiety deepened.

Bertha nodded. ‘Violet’s getting to the age when she’ll start being aware of boys – I mean in a romantic way.’

‘But she’s so much younger than him. Too young to be thinking about – well – that sort of thing.’

‘Girls grow up quicker than boys.’ Bertha sighed and nodded towards her. ‘Look how you’ve had to grow up sudden, after your poor mam died. No one thinks of you as a child any more.’

Far from making Polly feel sad because her childhood had been snatched away from her, Bertha’s words brought a warm glow to her heart.

If only Leo would see me as a grown-up too, she thought.

In November, there was great excitement in the city when an electrified tramway replaced the old horse-drawn one.

‘Let’s go on the new tram,
please
,’ Violet begged and even quiet little Stevie looked hopeful.

Polly shook her head, ‘We’ll go and see it, but I’ve no pennies to spare to take you on it. You can watch though.’

Violet pouted and Stevie looked disappointed, but it was all Polly could offer. On the day the new tram was to run for the first time, Polly wrapped the children warmly and pushed Miriam in the pram with the other two walking beside her up the High Street to where the tram was to make its very first trip. The streets were crowded, the people buzzing with excitement as the dignitaries climbed aboard. The tram was bedecked with flags and bunting and crammed with as many people as it would hold. There were so many on the top deck that Polly was afraid it would topple over.

‘There’s Leo,’ Violet cried and began to wave.

Two or three constables were standing near the tram, keeping order, Polly supposed.

‘He’s not waving back.’ Violet was disappointed.

‘He can’t. He’s on duty.’

‘He could. He could at least
wave
.’

As Polly watched him, her heart beat faster. He looked so handsome in his uniform and so solemn. No cheeky grin today. Then, as the crowd moved and he saw them, he met Polly’s gaze. He didn’t smile, he didn’t wave, but very slowly and deliberately, he winked at her.

Polly stifled a giggle and gave him a little wave in return to show that she had noticed. Then the milling crowd moved in front of her once more, blocking her view, as they surged forward when the tram began to move. A cheer went up and men and boys threw their caps in the air.

As it moved away down the High Street, the crowd began to disperse, either to follow its route or to go home.

‘Come on, we’d best get home,’ Polly said.

‘I wish we could have ridden on it,’ Violet whined. ‘It’d’ve taken us home.’

‘So it would,’ Polly said brightly. ‘But unless you want to go without your dinner for the rest of the week, we can’t afford it.’

Violet pouted but said no more.

Miriam’s first birthday, four days before Christmas, was marked by a very quiet celebration; the day brought poignant memories back for them all. Polly baked a special cake and iced it and the family clubbed together and bought a second-hand teddy bear. It had seen better days, but the little girl loved it.

And the first Christmas without Sarah was always going to be difficult for the whole family, but Polly was determined to make the best of it for the sake of the youngsters. Each week she saved a few pennies so that she could buy little gifts. There’d only be one each with perhaps an apple or some chocolate as a special treat in the bottom of their stockings.

‘D’you think Mr Wilmott will give you some veg on Saturday night as usual?’ Polly asked anxiously. Christmas Day fell on the Monday and if she hadn’t got everything she needed for the day by Saturday night, she doubted she’d find a shop open on a Sunday.

‘I dunno.’ Eddie shrugged. ‘He might ’ave sold out by then. He ses it’s always hectic at Christmas. Best time of the year for trade, he ses.’

‘Oh dear.’ Polly chewed her lip.

‘Look, Poll, I’ll ask him—’

‘No, no, don’t do that. I don’t want him to think we’re beggars. We’re very grateful for all he lets you bring home every week. I don’t know where we’d’ve been without it, specially when Dad was ill.’

‘Union Workhouse, most likely,’ Eddie said cheerfully, but Polly shuddered. Thoughts of ending up in the workhouse overshadowed the lives of all those who struggled to make ends meet.

But on the Friday night Eddie arrived home tottering under the weight of a box full of vegetables. Breathless, but grinning from ear to ear, he dumped it on the table with a flourish.

‘There’s the usual stuff that’s going off a bit, but he’s given us some good stuff an’ all. Mr Wilmott ses I’m such a good worker I deserve a bonus at Christmas. There’s even a bit of holly for you to decorate the house.’

‘How wonderful.’ Polly unpacked the box carefully. ‘Oh, I must call in tomorrow and thank Mr Wilmott myself.’

‘No, don’t do that,’ Eddie said swiftly. ‘He – it’d embarrass him.’

‘Would it? Because I don’t like not to say thank you for all this.’

‘I’ll tell him you said “Ta”.’

‘I hope you’ll thank him properly, Eddie,’ Polly said primly. ‘From all of us.’

‘Course I will. Right, where’s me tea, ’cos I’m off out?’

Polly hurried to get it ready, anxious that her brother should be ready when Micky arrived. He seemed to be calling earlier and earlier for Eddie these days and spent the time whilst he was waiting chatting to Polly.

Tonight was no exception and whilst Eddie washed in the back scullery, Micky sat near the fire and watched Polly clearing away the tea things.

‘Yar dad gone out already, has he, Poll?’

‘He’s not home from work yet.’

‘Nor’s my dad.’ He grinned. ‘It’ll be some union meeting. Big union men are my dad and yourn.’

Polly looked up with worried eyes. ‘Is there trouble?’

Micky grinned. ‘More’n likely if them two’s involved. It’s the only time they agree – and then not always.’

Polly stacked the crockery carefully and was about to carry it through to the back scullery when Micky said, ‘Poll, would you go out with me one night? Just for a walk or – or summat? We could go to the theatre, if you’d like that.’

‘It’s – it’s very kind of you, Micky, but I can’t leave the little ones. Violet’s not old enough to look after them.’

‘Wouldn’t your dad or Eddie stay in? Just one night?’ He rose and went to stand close to her. From his pocket he pulled out a sprig of mistletoe and waved it above their heads. ‘Just a little kiss, Poll. It’s nearly Christmas.’

Polly shuddered. How she’d longed to hear these words said to her by Leo. But it wasn’t Leo saying them – it was Micky.

‘You’ll be lucky, Micky Fowler.’ But she forced a smile as she said the words and managed to make them sound teasing, almost as if she was playing hard to get. She didn’t want to fall out with him.

His face fell but then he grinned and shrugged. ‘Oh well, it’s your loss. I’ve got ’em queuing up for me, y’know.’

‘I’m sure you have, Micky, you’re a good-looking lad. And thanks for asking me out, but I can’t. Not yet awhile.’

‘Then I’ll just have to keep on asking, won’t I, until you say yes.’

After Eddie and Micky had gone, Polly sat down by the fire and let out a huge sigh of relief. She hoped that that was the end of it. But she rather feared it wouldn’t be.

As Polly was banking down the fire that night and preparing for bed, she was still anxious, but now it was not about Micky and his advances but more about her father; he still hadn’t come home after work.

When there was a knock at the door, her heart leapt and she flew to open it. When she saw Leo standing there she felt both a thrill of delight and stab of fear. But then she realized that he wasn’t in uniform. So this wasn’t an official visit and he was carrying a huge parcel.

‘H-hello,’ she stammered and felt the colour rise in her face.

‘Hello, Poll. Mam’s sent this down for you. Can I come in? It’s a bit heavy.’

Flustered, she said, ‘Oh – sorry, yes of course.’

He set the parcel on the table and unwrapped it to reveal a large goose. ‘Mam gets given all sorts of gifts at Christmas, you know,’ Leo explained. ‘From grateful folks she’s helped. Delivered their babies or helped ’em out when they’ve lost someone. And this year she got given two geese, would you believe?’

Polly bit her lip; she didn’t know whether she did believe it or not. Was it just the Hallidays being kind to the Longdens, who’d had such a dreadful year? But she did know that what Leo said was right; Bertha did get given all sorts of presents by those who could afford to be generous with their thanks for her help.

Leo was watching her face and must have guessed at some of the thoughts troubling her. Casually, he said, ‘But of course, if you’ve already got something—’

Polly shook her head. ‘No, no, we haven’t. Eddie’s brought a lot of vegetables and fruit home that Mr Wilmott’s kindly given him.’ Polly’s eyes were on the plump goose so she didn’t see Leo’s sceptical glance, though he said nothing. ‘But – no,’ she went on. ‘I haven’t got anything to go with them. I – I was going to go out tomorrow and see if I could . . .’

Her voice trailed away. She didn’t want to admit that she’d been planning to hang around the market the following day until the very last minute to see what she could pick up cheaply for the family’s Christmas dinner.

‘Then please have it,’ Leo said gently. ‘We’ve got more than the three of us can eat if we sat at the table from morning until night.’

Polly giggled at the mental picture of the Hallidays sitting round their table the whole day stuffing themselves with food.

‘And Mam said to ask you: have you got a Christmas pudding?’

‘Oh yes. I made one in November.’

Leo grinned. ‘On Stir-up Sunday?’

Polly blinked and stared at him. ‘Eh?’

‘Stir-up Sunday, Mam calls it. It’s a Sunday in November. It’s the Sunday before Advent, she says. It’s when she always makes her puddings.’

‘I’ve never heard that,’ Polly murmured, still entranced by the sight of the lovely goose and picturing in her mind’s eye the dinner table loaded with wonderful food on Christmas Day. She was going to be so busy for the next two days she’d have to get Violet to lend a hand for once.

‘I hope you got everyone in the family to have a stir when you were making it and make a wish?’

‘Oh yes,’ she murmured. At the memory of her own secret wish, which had involved the person standing beside her at this very minute, she blushed again.

As she fell asleep that night Polly couldn’t help wishing – if only it had been Leo who’d brought the sprig of mistletoe with him.

‘Where on earth did you get to last night, Dad?’ Polly demanded the next morning as she cooked his breakfast. It was Saturday and two days before Christmas, but the railway was still running and her father was on duty.