Forgive and Forget (35 page)

Michael was now walking well and Polly had penned off one corner of the kitchen to keep the adventurous little boy safe.

Selina stepped in and closed the door behind her. Then she set her bag on the kitchen table and held out her arms towards Michael. ‘Don’t cage the little fellow up. He’ll be all right with us both here to watch him. Long as you’ve got a fireguard – ’ She glanced at the range. ‘Ah, I see you have. Now, you come to your Auntie Selina . . .’

Michael beamed at his newfound friend and reached for her bracelets. Polly watched in amazement. Michael rarely took to strangers so easily.

‘I’ll make us some tea first,’ Polly offered.

‘That’d be nice,’ Selina said without looking up. ‘I’ve just come from Albie’s stall and I’m fair parched.’

The morning was happily spent – with the occasional break to attend to the little boy or to make another cup of tea – as Selina showed Polly how to make a peg rug. But all the while Selina dandled Michael on her knee, almost as if she didn’t want to let him go.

‘You can have this proddy, love.’

Polly laughed. ‘A what?’

‘It’s just a pointed tool. Albie made it for me last night to give you. It’s just a piece off an old dolly peg whittled to a point. And I’ve brought you the canvas you need to set you off. You can buy more from Albie. Now, watch me.’

Deftly, Selina showed Polly how to push the small pieces of fabric through the coarse woven canvas. ‘Through once like this, then fold it over and into the next hole. See? Your pieces of material should always be cut about half an inch by two inches. And they must all be the same size. Now you have a go.’

Selina was quiet for a moment, watching how her pupil shaped up with her first efforts. ‘Course, it’s easier if you use a frame to stretch the canvas across. Albie said he’d make you one, if you take to it.’

As dinnertime approached, Selina nodded and said, ‘You’ll do. Well, I’d best be on me way now.’ Reluctantly, she set Michael on the floor and watched him crawl to the heap of cut rags.

‘Another cuppa before you go, Mrs Thorpe?’

Selina smiled, her gaze still on Michael. ‘Go on, then.’

As it was almost midday, Polly set out scones and cakes too and the two women sat together munching happily and chatting. Michael had curled up on the heap of soft fabric and fallen asleep.

‘Give me yar hand,’ Selina said suddenly.

Polly was startled but held out her hand obediently. Selina took it and turned it over, palm upwards. She studied the lines for some minutes, whilst Polly became more agitated and almost snatched her hand away. But something held her there, whilst Selina pondered.

‘You’ve a long life-line and – ’ She seemed about to say more but stopped abruptly, frowning and tracing the lines on Polly’s hand with her finger and turning it this way and that to look at the lines on the sides of her hand as well as those criss-crossing her palm. ‘You’ll have three children.’

Polly’s heart skipped a beat. ‘How do you know that?’

Selina smiled secretively. ‘Oh, I know, love. Me mother was a fortune teller and a good one too. I haven’t quite got that gift, but she taught me to read palms. It’s all here, lass,’ she glanced up and her dark eyes seemed to bore into Polly’s soul. ‘It’s all in the palm of your hand.’

Meeting that direct, knowing gaze, Polly couldn’t doubt her. Selina covered the girl’s hand. ‘There’s dark times coming for all of us, Polly, and you’ve a lot of trouble and sadness still to come in your life, but be strong and brave. Follow your heart and you will find true happiness. But if you falter, if you’re too stubborn to see where your happiness lies, it will elude you forever. Forgive and forget, Polly that’s the secret. Forgive and forget.’

Polly couldn’t find any words; her heart was beating so loudly and so fast that she was sure Selina must hear it. But the woman patted her hand and stood up. ‘And now I really must go. If you want any more help, just send a message by my Albie.’

It took a while for Polly’s heart to stop racing and even longer for her to put Selina’s strange fortune-telling out of her mind. Picking up Michael when he woke and whimpered to be fed, she tried to make light of the woman’s words. ‘Three children, eh? Well, I’ve got one already, haven’t I, my pet?’

And as for Selina’s advice? Well, she wouldn’t ever forget and she would certainly never forgive.

‘Much as I like the little chap,’ Roland said as he played with Michael, building a castle with a set of old bricks he’d unearthed from the attic, ‘are you sure this isn’t getting too much for you, Polly? You’re looking very white and a bit peaky, love. And Violet’s taking advantage. She’s out two evenings a week now as well as all day.’

The arrangement had been working well for a year, but in the early months of 1914 Roland was becoming concerned about his beloved wife taking on too much. She ran their house, kept it spotless, and still helped out at her family’s home as well as caring each weekday for Michael. Miriam, bright, lovable little girl though she was, spent more time at the Spicers’ house than she did in her own home. And at night, Polly would sit making peg rugs or sewing.

She sighed. ‘Violet’s only young. She deserves a bit of fun now and again.’

‘And did you get much fun when you were her age?’

Polly dipped her head and didn’t answer. Those were the days when she’d been walking out with Leo. Despite the burden of caring for the family, they’d been the best days of her life. But she couldn’t say that and she didn’t want her face to betray her.

But Roland answered his own question. ‘No, you didn’t because you were keeping house for all of them. Polly – ’. He bit his lip and hesitated before saying in a rush. ‘Polly, I don’t like telling tales, but Violet’s been seen with Micky Fowler again. I – I thought you ought to know.’

Polly’s head jerked up. ‘Oh lor’. Not him. Dad’ll go mad, if he finds out.’

Roland blinked and looked nervous. ‘Did we – did I – ought to tell him?’

‘Oh no. I’m not getting in the middle of that, but I will have a word with Vi.’

‘Must you? She’ll know it’s me that’s told you.’

‘Not necessarily. I see a lot of Nelly now. She comes round most Sunday afternoons. I mean, how did you find out? Did you see them for yourself?’

‘No. It was Nelly who told me.’

‘There you are then. It’s come from Nelly. Violet need never know.’

‘Who told you? Who’s been spying on me?’ Violet’s lip curled. ‘Roland, I suppose.’

‘Roland wouldn’t spy on you,’ Polly retorted, neatly avoiding answering the question directly. ‘It wasn’t him saw you together.’

‘Who then?’ Polly could see her sister’s mind was working frantically. ‘Ah – I know. Bloody Ida Norton. She saw us. And I bet she couldn’t wait to tell Nelly. Spiteful cow! And Nelly, of course, told you.’

This time Polly didn’t say anything. Even if Violet challenged Nelly – and she very much doubted that she would – Nelly Rawdon was quite capable of standing up for herself. She’d give Violet short shrift and no mistake, Polly knew.

‘So – are you seeing Micky again?’

Violet wriggled her shoulders. ‘Might be.’

‘Then you’d better watch out for yourself. I’m not looking after another of your kids, Violet, if you get yourself into trouble again, so there.’

Violet flushed. ‘I’m not that daft, Poll. He’s not getting his way this time.’ She giggled suddenly. ‘D’you know, it meks ’em all the keener. That’s what Nelly said and it’s true. I might even get him to marry me this time.’

Polly’s mouth dropped open. ‘You – you’d really marry Micky Fowler?’

Violet nodded and said softly, ‘I love him, Poll. I always have. I know that now.’

Polly stared at her for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders and turned away before her sister could see the envy in her eyes. ‘Oh well,’ she said, feigning indifference. ‘Whatever makes you happy, I suppose. Though what Dad’ll say, I don’t know.’

William had plenty to say.

‘Over my dead body, girl. You keep away from that Fowler family. Nearly drowned me, Bert did. Have you forgotten? And you want to connect us by marriage?’

Violet’s eyes narrowed. ‘If we’re going to start raking up the past, Dad, then I can do that an’ all. You were bosom pals with Bert Fowler when all the trouble was going on. Shoulder to shoulder then, weren’t you, on the picket line? But he was a mite cleverer than you were. He didn’t get himself arrested and sent to jail.’ She leaned towards him as she added spitefully, ‘And he’s still got his job.’

‘That was different,’ William glowered, refusing to be side-tracked. ‘That was work. But this is family.’

‘So, I take it that if I go on seeing Micky – if I marry him – you’ll throw me out? Is that it?’

William stared at her for a long moment. ‘You can’t marry without my permission – you’re under age.’

But even this didn’t faze Violet. She merely shrugged. ‘Then we’ll wait till I am.’

‘Aye, and spawn another bastard in the meantime?’

Violet’s face was set. ‘No. That won’t happen.’

‘Why? What d’you mean?’

‘That’s none of your business.’ Violet turned away. ‘Ask your beloved Polly. She’ll be glad to explain.’

‘What did she mean, Poll?’

William was sitting in Polly’s kitchen. There was fresh distemper on the walls. Every surface was scrubbed, every pot and pan sparkling and the smell of freshly baked bread made William’s mouth water. Not for one moment did he begrudge Polly her happiness as a married woman, but oh, how he missed her at home. Violet was a slovenly housekeeper and with little money coming in now, there was often not enough food to go around them all. With Eddie gone and Stevie only earning a boy’s wage, Violet’s money could hardly be made to stretch to feed four hungry mouths – five if you counted little Michael. Miriam at nine could do a few tasks about the house; she was a good and willing little thing, but she wasn’t old enough to bring money into the home.

Just sometimes in his lonely bed in the darkness of the night, William would wish he’d never got involved with the rioters. He would never voice such thoughts out loud – never have admitted it – but in his heart of hearts he questioned the sense of their actions. He believed every man had to stand up for what he saw as his rights, but he felt guilty that what he’d done had brought injury and heartache to so many, and especially to his own family. In the loneliness of the night, he admitted to himself that his Polly – his bright-haired, feisty lass – had not married the man she truly loved.

And all because of him.

It was taking his beloved city a long time to recover from that dreadful night. It would rise again, he knew, but people had long memories and the bitterness and sorrow would linger for years to come.

Polly sighed as she sat down. She cut a hunk of fresh bread, spread it thickly with butter, added a knob of cheese and pushed it across the table towards her father. He ate hungrily and she felt pity – and anger – flood through her. Pity because she hated to see him – or any of her family – suffering, but anger too because the quick-tempered man had brought it upon himself. He had put his workmates and his principles before the welfare of his family.

Well, damn his principles to high Heaven.

But she voiced none of her thoughts. Instead she managed a wry smile. ‘To put it a bit crudely, Dad, she’s keeping her legs crossed this time.’

William stopped chewing and stared at her. Then something happened that Polly hadn’t seen in a long time. William burst out laughing. He laughed and laughed until he almost choked on his bread and cheese and his eyes watered.

His mirth was infectious and Polly was soon giggling helplessly too. And that was how Roland found them when he came home from work. He washed swiftly in the scullery and came to join them. ‘What’s all this about then?’ He was already smiling, catching their hilarity even though he didn’t know the reason for it.

Polly put her hand over his on the table, an affectionate gesture that heartened William. He’d been worried about his eldest daughter, for he’d known full well where her heart really lay and he was sorry that her future happiness had been ruined by the trouble he’d helped to cause. Though he never spoke of it, he knew in his heart of hearts that had it been Polly who’d wanted to make up with Leo, he could have accepted that; but not this. Not Violet and Micky Fowler. His face sobered at the thought and catching his change of mood, Polly’s face became serious once more.

‘I’ll tell you later, Roland. I promise. Dad’s come round to talk about Violet.’

‘Violet? I can’t see how she can have caused so much merriment,’ Roland murmured, but it was said without spite. During the time she’d known her husband, and especially since she’d lived with him so closely, she didn’t think Roland Spicer had a mean or spiteful bone in his body.

Polly sighed, her laughter gone now as had William’s. ‘Dad’s found out that Violet’s seeing Micky Fowler again.’

Roland avoided meeting William’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He paused and then asked, ‘What are you going to do about it?’

William shrugged. ‘Not much I can do, I reckon, except threaten to throw her out. Which I’ve done and she doesn’t seem bothered. I even told her she couldn’t marry without my consent, but she just came back at me saying they’d wait till she could.’