Polly's Angel (58 page)

‘Hope is good, but I can't help thinkin' if our Mart had been alive that someone would've been in touch,' he had said. ‘Just you pray, alanna, same as your mammy and I do.'

But right now Polly turned to Monica with her brightest smile. ‘I'll walk up to the Pier Head with you because you'll be wanting a number 17 and then I'll have to come back here to catch my own tram,' she said. ‘It's been such a grand evening that making it last a little longer suits me just fine.'

When the two girls reached the Pier Head, however, there were still a great many people about and the queue stretched a considerable distance. ‘But it doesn't really matter,' Polly said as they joined the end of the queue, ‘because we'll be able to lie in for a bit tomorrow morning. Oh, but you've got to walk from Seaforth to Waterloo if you catch this tram . . . Is there anything that would take you all the way, alanna?'

Monica, however, assured Polly that she did not mind the walk and since there were several WRNs in the queue ahead of them she would have company all the way home. The wrennery, which had once been the Royal Hotel on the corner of Marine Terrace, was an enormous building and housed a great number of girls, so some at least of the WRNs in the queue would be making their way back to it. Indeed, Monica spotted several friends ahead of them and assured Polly that the walk, in such company, would be more enjoyable than a taxi ride – and far less expensive.

‘Not that we'd gerra taxi at this time of night,' she added comfortably. ‘Don't you worry, Polly, your mam said I could stay over if I wanted, but I decided to go back. Me and me mates will have a good jangle before settling down to sleep, and – and it takes me mind off things.'

And presently, two trams, both 17s, drew up at the stop and Monica crammed on to the second one, Polly stepping back but waiting to wave as the tram drew away.

‘It's been a grand day,' Monica shouted over her shoulder as she was pushed and shoved further down the tram. ‘Tell Mam and Dad I'll come over later in the week. Night, Poll!'

‘It was much more fun 'cos we were together, Monica,' Polly called back, and then turned away and with one last wave started to make her way towards Lime Street and her tram home. Polly was luckier than Monica, boarding a 24 no more than two minutes after arriving there and when they reached her stop she got thankfully down off the step into the comfortable warmth and brightness of Stanley Road. What a good thing the blackout's done with at last, she told herself, for with most of the shop windows brightly lit she could see her way perfectly. Only fancy, she said to herself as she turned away from the tram stop, this time last month the sight of one of those lights would have brought a warden's wrath down on the head of whoever had neglected to draw curtains or blinds. Oh, isn't peace a wonderful thing now?

Smiling to herself, Polly turned her steps towards Snowdrop Street and her own bed. She was very tired indeed, and now that she and Monica had parted and the excitement was over she could no longer deny a sort of inner flatness, as though the day had sucked all the life and enthusiasm out of her, leaving her little more than an empty husk.

It's that old Tad, I did think he might have turned up despite what he said, Polly told herself as she plodded along the pavement, but though she was no longer buoyed up by the mad excitement of the day she soon began to enjoy the walk. Lights streaming out of so many windows despite the lateness of the hour were still a novelty, a bonfire on a bomb-site glowed red and the trams, bicycles and occasional cars making their way along the street were comforting to one used to the pitch darkness of a blacked-out city.

And presently, Polly reached Snowdrop Street and turned down it, realising that her legs were extremely tired, that she would not be at all sorry to climb the stairs and get into her bed, even though her day had not been quite what she had planned. Her house was in darkness, however, which meant that if she went by the front door she would have to wake someone up, so she retraced her steps and went down the jigger, finding her way easily despite the fact that it was a good deal darker here than in the main street. She opened the gate into their own yard, headed for the back door and the key always kept hung up on a nail behind the bird-box fixed to the wall – and gave a startled squeak. A man detached himself from the shadows where he had apparently been waiting and came towards her.

‘Polly?'

Polly's hand flew to her heart. It was Tad, after all – Tad, who had said he couldn't get here, wouldn't get here! He was right here in front of her, a grin on his brown face, teeth gleaming white, hands going out to her . . .

She had meant to say that he had frightened her, she had even meant to reproach him a little before admitting that she was glad to see him, but somehow nothing happened quite as she had intended. Instead, she heard herself give a muffled sob as she crossed the distance between them in one jump and threw herself into his arms. Those arms closed round her, infinitely warm and comforting, and Tad's voice said in her ear: ‘You're not cryin', are you, Poll? And I t'ought you'd be pleased to see me, so I did!'

‘Oh, I – I am pleased, I am, I am,' Polly snuffled against his tunic. ‘Oh, Tad, I was horrid to you, wasn't I? And I do love you most awfully much, so I do, and I t'ought you didn't like me one bit and I couldn't blame you because I'd been horrid, not a bit nice, and I was jealous of that Jenny girl, and I wanted to punish you . . . Only Tad, I love you more than anyone else in the world, and I want to be with you even if you know I'm not a nice girl at all. So there!'

‘That's good to hear,' Tad said, a hand smoothing the curls away from Polly's hot forehead and then caressing her cheek, wiping away the wet of her tears. ‘But we need to talk, Poll. Where can we go?'

‘Indoors,' Polly said at once. She reached up and plucked the key from its hidden hook. ‘In the kitchen; there's no one still up, Mammy and Daddy will have been in bed hours since.'

As she spoke she was unlocking the back door and ushering Tad into the kitchen, still warm from the day of sunshine as well as from the fire smouldering away in the stove. Now, she took off her coat and hung it on the back of the door, motioning Tad to do likewise. Beaming with a pleasure which she was quite unable to conceal she lit the lamp with a taper from the fire and then turned to her companion. ‘We can talk very well in here,' she said, pulling one of the chairs nearer to the fire. ‘I'll put the kettle on – how long were you standing in our back yard waiting for me to get home, dearest Tad? And when did you leave Lincoln? Oh, and why did you come, when you said you wouldn't? Couldn't, I mean,' she amended hastily as Tad opened his mouth to speak. ‘I know it wasn't your fault really, I know you were only being fair to your pals, but . . . well, here you are, so . . .'

‘Here I am,' Tad agreed. He had taken off his own coat and hung it next to Polly's and now, as she bustled about getting out tea, milk and cups, he sat himself down in the chair she had indicated. ‘Well, the truth is, Poll, that I didn't altogether trust your sudden desire for me companionship. After all, alanna, you'd spent months keeping me at arm's length, you'd told me over and over how fond you were of Sunny What's-his-name, you'd assured me that you thought of me as a brother . . .'

‘I didn't mean it,' Polly muttered, turning back towards him. ‘I – I was all mixed up that night, you know, Tad. I know I was thinking backwards – all wrong, I mean – but it's a strange t'ing to discover that you're not your own mammy's and daddy's girl, after all. I reckon I didn't know what I was saying, not really. Oh, and I know I probably said the same thing again in me letters, but I was still all muddled up in me mind, you see,' she added hastily. ‘For ages and ages I just told meself that I wanted you as a friend. Then I realised that I couldn't bear a – a future which didn't have you in it.'

‘That's grand to hear, so it is,' Tad said, but Polly thought he still didn't sound as though he completely believed what she was saying. ‘The trouble is, Poll, it took me a long while to get you out of me system, like, and I don't fancy having to do it again if your mind does one of its quick-change tricks. You see, I don't know
why
you've suddenly decided that – well, that I'm the feller for you and not Sunny What's-his-name.'

Polly began to pour the tea. The trouble was, she reminded herself, that her own realisation that Tad was the only person she could ever love had come, not as a result of any one thing, but more as a gentle flow of gradually increasing conviction. In fact, now that she thought about it seriously, it had been her awareness that Sunny was not the man of her dreams which had made her realise it was Tad who mattered to her. But how to explain to him so that he would understand, see that this time there would be no changing of her mind, no going back. She was the old, loving Polly who had known from the time she had been just a child that Tad was her other half, her mate. This, she realised, was an important moment in her life and this time there must be no mistakes, no wrong words or misunderstandings. This time she must make Tad see that she was in deadly earnest.

So she carried the tea over to the fire and sat down in the chair opposite him. ‘It happened because I wanted to go back to Holyhead, where I'd been so happy, and have a leave there,' she said, speaking slowly, her eyes on his face. ‘I needed some time alone, I think, Tad. Time to consider just what I did want in my life. So anyway, I went back, and somehow, Holyhead wasn't as special as I'd expected it to be. It was almost as if there was something missing. Anyway, I went off by meself to the clifftops above the sea with sandwiches and that, and I lay on the turf and thought. I thought about Sunny, and being married, and then I
knew
that marrying Sunny would be the greatest mistake of me life. He's a grand feller, he's handsome and tall and girls like him, but . . . I realised when I had a chance to think properly, on that quiet clifftop, that I didn't love him. Not even a tiny bit and – and the feller I wanted to be beside me for ever wasn't tall or golden-haired or any of that rubbish, it was – well, it was you, Tad.'

‘Right. And this was how long ago?' Tad asked rather dryly. ‘A year? Nine months?'

‘Well, no, it wasn't as long as that—' Polly began, to be swiftly interrupted.

‘You mean it was just weeks ago? Oh, Poll, who's to say you won't change your mind again in another few weeks? After all, you've not seen Sunny once since your trip to Anglesey, have you? You might set eyes on him—'

‘I have seen him, so,' Polly said vehemently, standing her mug down on the floor beside her and getting to her feet. ‘I saw him this very afternoon, and did I get one single feeling that he was me feller? No, I did not! He was with Grace, what's more, but if he and she were to get together – which I know very well they won't – Oh, Tad, I want you!' The last words came out almost as a wail and with them, Polly cast herself at Tad's knees, clasping them tightly and then burying her head in his lap. ‘Don't – don't you want me even a little bit?' she said on a snuffle.

There was a moment's silence and then Tad leaned down and heaved her on to his lap. With both arms tightly round her and his mouth against her hair he said: ‘Polly me darlin' girl, you don't know how much I want you! You're all I've ever wanted, that's God's truth, and when you decided you didn't want me – well, I was cut to the heart, so I was, and for a bit life just didn't seem worth living. Only I made meself think sensibly and I got over it, more or less. That's why I don't want to go through all that pain again.'

‘Oh, Tad,' Polly muttered. ‘Oh, Tad, it wasn't the real me, it was just plain stupidity, and – and being a bit bedazzled by Sunny's looks. But all that's over and done, I swear it on a stack of Bibles, I'll never look at another feller so long as we both live.' She looked up at him, seeing him through a dazzle of tears. ‘Won't you give me a chance to prove I mean it, though, darlin' Tad? Because if you won't – or can't, even – then I don't know what I'll do.'

‘Well, we'll give it a go, then,' Tad said, suddenly cheerful. ‘Ooh, you're a cuddly armful, so you are! But we can't sit here like this all night. I've only got a forty-eight, so I'll have to be off back to Lincoln at the crack of dawn, which means trying to grab some sleep tonight. I'd best see if I can find a lodging house still open.'

‘You'll do no such thing,' Polly said softly but with determination. ‘Mammy and Daddy would be shocked at me if I let you go off when we've an inch of space to spare. And – and tomorrer, I'm coming wit' you back to Lincoln so's we can talk some more, because there's things we need to say, Tad.'

‘But not tomorrer,' Tad said with emphasis. ‘I don't want to see you court-martialled, alanna. We'll do everything the proper way, for once. I'll go back to Lincoln and get meself some leave and you'll go back to being a despatch rider until you're demobbed. Agreed?'

And Polly, opening her mouth to say hotly that she would do no such thing, that she did not care if she were court-martialled so long as she was with Tad, heard her own voice saying meekly: ‘Sure an' if that's what you think is best, darlin' Tad,' and knew that she had grown up at last.

It was comfortable in the O'Bradys front parlour, with a couple of blankets and a pillow and the comfortable couch all to himself, but even so Tad found it hard to go to sleep. For one thing, he was uneasily conscious that it was past midnight which meant that he could only sleep for about five hours at the most. His squadron leader had given him a forty-eight as a special favour, it really would be a shabby thing if he was late back, so he must be at the station early because he had no idea what time the first train heading for Lincoln left, but no matter how unearthly an hour it should prove he really meant to be aboard.