Forgive and Forget (38 page)

‘Really? Are you sure? I mean Micky’s not exactly Albie’s favourite person. There’s been some trouble at the market, hasn’t there?’

‘Oh, several times,’ Selina said airily. ‘But Albie’s prepared to give Micky a second chance. The lad got in with Vince Norton when he was young and got led astray. It’s easy done. The market folk are good people, Polly, in general but you always get the odd bad apple. Maybe, given the chance, Micky will mend his ways. If not . . .’

She said no more, but the threat left hanging in the air was obvious.

Second chance? Forgive and forget? Such words haunted Polly. Why was it she was so steadfast in her hatred of Leo? Why couldn’t she have given him a second chance? But it was too late now; she’d made her bed and she would have to lie in it.

Resolutely, she looked to the future, counting the days to when she would hold her own child in her arms.

‘I wish we could hear news of Eddie,’ William said mournfully. Polly was at home, ironing for the family with an old blanket spread on the table and two flat irons heating alternately on the hob.

‘He’s probably abroad, Dad. Well out of harm’s way. He’s best where he is.’ Under her breath, she added, ‘Wherever that is.’

She too longed to hear news of Eddie. Despite the trouble he’d always caused her, he was still her brother and she cared about him and hoped he was well and happy.

‘There’s talk of war, you know. Ever since that Archduke or whatever he was and his wife got assassinated at the end of June, they reckon there’s going to be a war.’

‘It won’t involve us, will it?’

William shrugged. ‘They reckon it might.’

‘And who’s “they”?’

‘Fellers in the pub.’

‘Oh, a lot of drunks. I wouldn’t take any notice of what they say.’

He cast her an angry glance. ‘It’s in the papers, an’ all.’

Polly pursed her lips and slammed her iron down harder on the shirt she was ironing as if to make her point. She wanted to say, ‘You’d do better to try and find some proper work than worry about politics over which you’ve no control.’ But she held her tongue.

‘Roland, is there going to be war?’

Polly still read the paper every day now that she had her own and she’d read for herself the talk of war in the press. But she’d wondered if it was eager reporters trying to make the headlines. Roland’s anxious eyes answered her question without him needing to speak a word. Polly clutched her throat. ‘And – and will we be involved?’

‘This country may be, but I don’t know about us personally.’

‘But – but Eddie? If – if he is in the army, then – then – ?’

Roland nodded solemnly. ‘Yes, I’m afraid he would be.’

By the time Polly’s baby was due in early August, the war clouds were gathering over Europe. Roland and Polly spent the August Bank Holiday quietly; the hot weather made her uncomfortable.

‘We could go to the park if you feel able,’ Roland suggested tentatively. Polly was sitting in their kitchen, wiping the beads of perspiration from her forehead. ‘It might be cooler there.’

‘I don’t think I could walk that far, Roland.’ She smiled. ‘Besides, what would me mam have said about me walking out in public when I’m the size of an elephant?’

Tentatively, Roland put his hand protectively over her swollen belly. ‘You look beautiful, Polly dear.’

Polly grimaced. ‘To you, maybe, but then I’m carrying your son.’

Roland chuckled. ‘You’re sure it’s going to be a boy then?’

Polly shifted in her chair, trying to find a comfortable position. ‘I’m sure,’ she said tartly. ‘Only a boy would cause me so much discomfort. And besides, Selina said it was going to be a boy.’

‘And you trust Selina’s gift?’

Polly chuckled. ‘Implicitly!’ And they laughed together.

‘Not long now, though,’ Roland comforted. ‘When did Mrs Halliday – ’ there was still a change, a constraint, in Roland’s tone whenever he mentioned the name Halliday – ‘say the baby would come?’

‘Second week in August, she thought, but he could come any time now.’ She sighed and moved restlessly again. ‘I just wish he’d hurry up and get it over with.’

Roland got up and went to fetch a cooling drink for her, and for the rest of the day he watched her with anxious eyes. He, too, wished it was all over.

Polly woke with a start; the sky was just beginning to lighten over the rooftops. She reached out and gripped Roland’s arm, waking him at once.

‘What is it?’

‘I think you’d better fetch – someone. Maybe – Nelly Rawdon.’ Despite that pain that was coming in regular waves now, she was still sensitive to Roland’s feeling. He wouldn’t want Leo’s mother in his house and certainly not delivering his child.

But Roland was generous to the last.

‘You’ve been seeing Mrs Halliday,’ he said as he swung his legs to the floor and began to dress hastily. ‘So Mrs Halliday it shall be.’

‘But – ’

‘No buts, Polly. She’s the best – you’ve always said so – and I want the best for you and – and for our baby. Whoever that person might be.’

As another contraction racked her, Polly argued no more.

Leo opened the door to Roland’s urgent knocking. For a brief moment they stared at one another, shocked to come face to face.

‘It’s Polly,’ Roland blurted out at last. ‘It’s the baby.’

‘I’ll get Mother,’ Leo said and turned away to shout up the stairs. ‘Mam, it’s Mr Spicer. Poll – Mrs Spicer’s gone into labour.’

Roland heard Bertha’s voice. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can. Tell him the usual . . .’

Leo turned round and came back to the door.

‘The usual,’ Roland asked. ‘What’s that?’

‘Get plenty of water on the boil and cover the bed with old sheets and towels. I expect Poll – your wife . . .’ he hesitated, ‘will have got everything ready. You’d best get back to her.’ He stuck out his hand. ‘Good luck.’

After a moment’s hesitation, Roland took the proffered hand and shook it. ‘Thank you,’ he said simply before turning away and running back up the street. He paused only to rap on the Longdens’ door and to tell William, who was already up and about, what was happening.

‘Owt I can do, lad, you just let me know. Mebbe we’re best out of the way, so if you want to go to the pub later . . .’

‘I’ll see,’ Roland said as he hurried away. Talking about wetting the baby’s head already was a mite too early to his mind.

Despite their differences, Bertha came at once to the house and stayed with Polly until the baby – a boy, as Polly had expected – fought his way, kicking and screaming, into an uncertain world.

When it was all over and the baby was nestling in her arms, Polly watched Bertha moving around the bedroom, tidying away all traces of the birthing before she allowed the new father into the room.

‘Mrs Halliday, thank you for coming. It – it can’t have been easy for you.’

Bertha blinked at her. ‘What? Oh – that? No, Polly, it’s not that. I’m not one to bear grudges, specially where there’s an innocent little life concerned. No, it’s – it’s summat else.’

‘What?’ Polly felt a sudden fear and her tone was harsher than she’d intended as she demanded, ‘Tell me.’

‘You won’t have heard – ’ Bertha smiled, but the anxiety did not quite leave her eyes – ‘but war’s been declared today. Germany marched into Belgium, and so we’re at war.’

‘How d’you know?’

Bertha lifted her plump shoulders. ‘Oh, the papers get news through very fast these days, don’t they? Telegraph or summat, but the city’s buzzing with the news and our Leo—’

The stab of fear made Polly tremble and the baby in her arms began to whimper.

‘There, there,’ she said absently, but her mind was on Leo. When she should have been concentrating on her newborn son and her husband still waiting impatiently outside the door to see them both, Polly was thinking about her lost love, the man she told herself every day she hated.

‘What about him?’ she whispered.

Bertha came to the end of the bed and said in a low voice. ‘He’s talking about enlisting. Joining up. The whole city’s in a fervour of patriotism.’ Her face was bleak. ‘Oh, Polly, I don’t want my lad going.’

‘But surely, he’s needed here. He’s a policeman,’ Polly said unnecessarily. As if any of them were likely to forget it.

‘They’re calling for volunteers. It seems they’ll take anyone who wants to go.’

Polly felt a fresh shaft of dread. ‘Anyone?’

Bertha nodded miserably. There was silence between the two women as they stared at each other. And they both knew, in that shared moment, that their terror was for one man and only one man.

Leo.

‘He’s wonderful, Polly. You’re so clever.’

‘Well, you had a bit to do with it, Roland dear.’ Polly was striving to be extra nice to her husband, though in his joy and pride at the birth of their son she doubted he would have noticed her quiet mood. And if he had, the kindly man would undoubtedly put it down to her preoccupation with the tiny baby. They were both trying not to let the shadow of war spoil what should have been the happiest day of their married life.

But there was no cause for concern over Jacob, who fed greedily and yelled lustily. And it wasn’t as if Polly hadn’t had the caring of tiny babies before; with both Miriam and more recently with Michael, she was an old hand and suffered none of the uncertainties and nervousness of many a first-time mother.

That she couldn’t glory in her baby son was her own fault; she couldn’t forget that any day now Leo might be marching off to war.

As the days passed, her fears lessened a little. There was no word from Mrs Halliday and she called in every so often to check on mother and baby. The subject wasn’t mentioned between them again and yet both women knew it was uppermost in both their minds each time they met.

The papers were already full of war news. Polly tried to close her mind to it, but it kept intruding into her life.

‘Polly, Polly – ’ Her sister came charging in through Polly’s back door, dragging Michael with her.

‘Vi – whatever’s the matter?’

Not more trouble, she thought. Vi and Micky seemed settled at Albie’s. Their trial month had passed long ago and both sides had declared themselves happy with the arrangement. Indeed, Selina had taken a liking to Violet and even more of a one to the little boy. She happily offered to look after Michael whilst Violet went out to work.

‘Polly’s got plenty on now with her little one,’ Selina told Violet. ‘Until she’s better from her confinement, at least, let me look after him. If she wants him back then, well . . .’ But there was no doubting the reluctance in her tone and Violet had smiled as she’d related the incident to her sister.

Albie, too, it seemed had been as good as his word. He’d given Micky the promised second chance and was taking an interest in the young man’s work on the market, even offering him work on his own stall. ‘I could do with someone I can trust to look after me stall when I goes buying,’ he’d said, eyeing Micky severely. ‘Now, lad, a’ you that person?’

Micky, unusually solemn, had nodded. ‘I am, Mr Thorpe. I know I was wild a few years back, but I’m a married man now.’ He’d puffed out his chest. ‘I’ve got responsibilities. Besides,’ he’d grinned, suddenly more like the cheeky young feller of old. ‘What’s it they say about “doing you-know-what on your own doorstep”?’

Albie had roared with laughter. ‘Now, none of that language here, m’lad. But I’ll give it a go. My missus has taken to that little wife of yours and the bairn.’ His eyes had clouded briefly. ‘I wasn’t sure about you moving in with us, I have to be honest, but it seems to be working out nicely all round.’

So Polly was a little irritable when Violet burst into her home as she was peacefully feeding Jacob. ‘What on earth are you getting in such a flap about, Vi?’

‘It’s Eddie. He’s come home. I mean – on a visit. He’s come to say goodbye.’ Violet flung herself to her knees and buried her face in Polly’s lap, dislodging the baby from suckling at his mother’s breast. Jacob at once set up a plaintive wail but Violet was oblivious as she cried, ‘Oh, Poll, he’s going to war.’

Polly felt the blood drain from her face as she put her arm around Violet and the two sisters hugged, each one supporting the other. At last they drew back.

‘You’ve got to come, Poll. Dad’s in tears, begging and pleading with him not to go. I’ve never seen me dad in such a state. It’s not as if he’s even talked that much about our Eddie lately.’

‘I think it was a relief when our dear brother went away, Vi,’ Polly said grimly. ‘I know it was for me. Eddie was in with a bad crowd and goodness knows where he might have ended up if he hadn’t joined the army. In prison, more than likely. I thought going into the army was the best thing he ever did. But now I’m not so sure.’ She paused and the two sisters looked at each other again, dread in their eyes. ‘I’ll come straight away.’

Polly hardly recognized her brother. He’d grown taller and filled out, his shoulders and chest broad, narrowing to his waist, and then strong, sturdy thighs. And he looked so smart in his uniform. He’d aged in his face too, as if he’d seen the world – or a good part of it – and a slice of life that was totally different from the one he’d known. But his grin was as cheeky as ever and his eyes, still as full of mischief and daring, twinkled at her. He held out his arms. ‘Polly – I do believe you’ve grown an’ all. I hardly recognized our Vi and her a married woman. And you too, so I hear? But to Roland Spicer of all people. What happened to everybody’s favourite copper, then? I really thought you’d make it up with him after all the dust had settled.’