Polly's Angel (59 page)

For another thing, though, he was as pleased and excited as he had ever been, and pleasurable excitement is no aid in getting to sleep. He knew, now, that he had been right to call Polly's bluff when she had simply turned up unannounced in Lincolnshire to tell him she was fond of him and wanted to resume their old relationship. He had not told her so this evening, but in fact he had decided not even to try to get back to Liverpool for the celebrations, only once the great day dawned he had found it quite impossible not to try to get to Polly just as soon as he could. Having told his squadron leader that he would be staying on the station he had had to explain that things had altered and leapt aboard the first transport heading into the city. He had gone at once to the station and from then on had cursed every slow train, every missed connection, as he worked his way steadily cross-country towards his girl. But he had made it at last, only to realise that the house in Snowdrop Street was deserted. He had imagined Polly in Sunny's arms, being comforted because he, Tad, had been so cruel to her, and had ground his teeth with rage at his own foolishness. Why hadn't he admitted that he loved her, wanted only her? Why had he played out the charade that he was too hurt to risk being hurt again? But now he was glad, because his little darling really was his little darling now. He had no more doubts, only a wonderful, warm glow of certainty. Polly was his and he was Polly's, and now they could stop wasting time and start to plan their lives together.

So after he and Polly had kissed goodnight she had gone upstairs to fetch blankets from the spare room, and had come down again with a pile of bedding and the information that Mammy had still been awake, and had said to say sorry she wasn't coming down herself to welcome him but it was awful late, and would he make himself at home, please, and not to leave in the morning before Polly had got up and made him breakfast and a packed lunch for the train.

Tad had felt good after that. He was no longer an interloper in the O'Brady house but an invited guest, and since Polly had promised to set her alarm for five o'clock so that she might come down and wake him and see to his breakfast he should have had no qualms about going to sleep and fitting himself for another day of travel on the morrow.

The trouble was, he could not sleep, and it soon occurred to him that Polly, too, would be wide awake and this re-activated his worry about her finally dozing off and sleeping through the alarm clock's bell, and very soon he was sitting up on the couch, with the pillow across his shoulders, determined not to risk so much as half an hour of slumber.

When, after about an hour of this, the parlour door creaked open and a small figure wrapped in a pink eiderdown and with an alarm clock in one hand and a very guilty expression crept into the room, he was so pleased that he nearly cried out. In fact, he remembered in time that there were two O'Brady parents upstairs and merely whispered: ‘Poll! I can't sleep, I was scared of not waking in time for the early train, but I see you guessed how it would be and brought me the clock – thanks, alanna. But you need your rest, you've had a long day, same as I have, so you go up again now, and go to sleep and don't bother about waking up for me. I can get meself a bit of bread and scrape and a cuppa and then be on my way. Off wit' you, Polly me darlin'.'

Polly, however, came over to the couch and sat down beside him, standing the alarm clock on the small occasional table in front of it. She smiled at him but shook her head in a very determined fashion. ‘No, Tad, I'll not be going back upstairs to lie awake and worry that you'll miss the bleedin' train,' she told him in a very composed tone. ‘Besides, there's a lot we've not had time to talk about, I want to ask you . . . oh, about lots of things. And since we can neither of us sleep – I'm still all lit up and excited inside about us, and about not being at war, and remembering the fireworks and the bonfires – we might as well be awake together, don't you think?'

‘So I do,' Tad said, giving in happily and putting an arm around her slender shoulders. ‘Lean on me, Poll, and let's talk!'

‘Where will we start, though?' Polly said, settling herself comfortably in the hollow of Tad's shoulder. ‘I feel as if I've lived
years
that you don't know about, Tad. Are you goin' to tell me what you did after I'd said – the things that I said? Only I don't think I want to know.'

Tad laughed. ‘No, I don't suppose you do, and it wouldn't make very interestin' listening,' he agreed. ‘So let's start with you, Poll. You don't mind about being adopted now, do you, Poll? And you don't mind that Grace is your sister?'

‘No, I don't mind, exactly,' Polly said in rather a subdued voice. ‘Because I know that Mammy and Daddy love me ever so much and did everything they could to make me happy. But I do wonder about my angel, Tad. Do you remember her? I told you about her when I was only a kid, and you thought I was going soft in the head I daresay, but – but I really did see her, Tad, often and often. In fact, it's only this past year or so that I've not seen her.'

‘I believe you saw your angel,' Tad said. ‘I'm not saying I understand it, Poll, but I do think you saw . . . well, something, at any rate.'

‘Someone, not something,' Polly put in. ‘But what I don't understand, Tad, is why the angel came to me? Why didn't she go to Grace, who needed an angel so very badly? She was the one who was left alone, not me.'

‘Oh, Poll, you will keep looking at things from your own point of view and never from anyone else's,' Tad said, sighing and kissing the top of Polly's curly golden head. ‘Can't you see, even now? Your mammy told you that she thought your angel was really your big sister Jess, didn't she?'

‘Sure she did, and I suppose she might have been right,' Polly said rather grudgingly. Tad, grinning, thought that if you'd imagined a guardian angel with great white wings and a good deal of influence with the Lord it was rather a comedown to admit that the angel was just a skinny, dirty little slum child who had been killed by a train whilst searching for shelter in the shunting yards. Still, Polly was clearly coming round to the idea. ‘But if it's true that my angel was really Jess, then why didn't she take care of Grace? Grace was her sister too, remember.'

‘That's what I'm trying to tell you, alanna,' Tad said gently. ‘Sure an' you will look at things from your own point of view all the time – amn't I telling you so, time and again? Look at it from Jess's angle, won't you! She was in charge of a young baby, the baby she had looked after almost from birth. And because she was cold and worried and in a hurry she went and got herself killed by a train, leaving that little baby to fend for itself. Don't you see now, alanna?'

‘But I was all right; Brogan took care of me, carried me over the sea to Mammy and Daddy, and after that I didn't really need anyone – except for you, Tad,' Polly said quickly. ‘So that dog won't run, me fine friend!'

‘But Jess wasn't appearing to you because you needed her, Poll. She was doing it because she needed
you
,' Tad explained as patiently as he could. He had found it hard to understand himself, at first, but now that he had come to terms with Polly and her angel it seemed impossible that Polly should still not see. ‘I guess that she loved you with a deep, possessive love – and why should she not? She'd made a pretty good job of bringing you up from what Brogan told your mammy, and she
needed
to see you, to watch over you, to make sure you were all right.'

There was a long pause whilst Polly clearly gave this new idea all her attention. Then she heaved a great, deep sigh. ‘I do see, now,' she said at last. ‘Then – then I won't ever see my angel again, will I? Because I'm really grown up now – and I've got you, Tad. For ever and ever.'

‘That's right, Poll,' Tad said gently. ‘You've got me now, for ever and ever.' And he put both arms around her and drew her close. ‘Do you know, I've never kissed you, Poll? And if we're giving it a go, then I think . . .'

Polly put her face up to his and their lips met and clung.

At five o'clock the alarm went off and by six Tad was kissing her goodbye and setting off for the station. Polly would have liked to have gone with him, but Tad said she should go up to her room and get a bit of sleep before her work started later. Polly agreed, therefore, to telephone his airfield that evening to make sure he had got back safely, waved him off and then went meekly back into the house. Light was beginning to filter through the curtains as she climbed the stairs to her room, filled with a happiness yet with a thread of sadness running through it because she was going to have to say goodbye to her angel, and, she knew, to her carefree girlhood.

I've grown up at last, so I have, she thought to herself, sleepily climbing the stairs. I thought I was a woman ages ago, but now I know it took almost losing Tad and then finding him again and sharing a real, proper love to grow me up. And as she reached the head of the stairs she looked back . . . and thought she saw, standing on the half-landing, a barefoot girl in a long, draggly shawl who looked up at her fleetingly for a moment and gave her the most beautiful smile before she was gone, and only the shadow of the bannisters remained, and dust motes swirling in a pale sunshine's ray.

Polly stopped still for a moment. ‘Goodbye, Jess,' she said in a voice no louder than a whisper. ‘I'm proud to have known you, and in a way I'll miss you . . . but I'll have Tad now, so long as we both shall live, and that's enough for anyone.'

For a moment she waited. For a sign? For one more glimpse of that sweet, fragile presence? But she knew suddenly, with a deep inner certainty, that she would never see her angel again. Not, at any rate, in this world.

As she let herself into her bedroom she realised that there would be no more blackout, no more dark, dangerous streets, and very soon no more despatch riding, no more exciting uniform. No more war.

Polly crossed the room and threw the blanket she had wrapped herself in back on to the bed, then climbed between the sheets. What a day – well, what a night, come to that! She and Tad had talked and talked, and worked out how their life would go on for the next few months and she hadn't thought once about a white wedding or a wonderful honeymoon somewhere exciting, she had simply thought how marvellous it would be not to have to say goodnight to Tad and go their separate ways. I'm lucky, so I am, she thought, snuggling down. Peace is beginning and Tad and I will tackle whatever it may bring together. Come to that, everyone is having to tackle it now. Sunny will leave the Navy and Grace the WAAF and the boys will come home and . . . For a moment she thought about that odd sighting across the crowd, of Grace and Sunny in each other's arms. Had she really seen them? If so, what did it mean? But her own happiness was so enormous that she could not speculate for too long on anyone's else's future. Tomorrow, she thought drowsily. Tomorrow I'll get down to wondering what Sunny and Grace were doing together, tomorrow I'll think about Martin and the others and pray they all get home safe, tomorrow . . .

And Polly was asleep.

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Epub ISBN: 9781446427507

Version 1.0

Published by William Heinemann in 2000

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

Copyright © Katie Flynn, 2000

Katie Flynn has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work

This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

First published in the United Kingdom in 2000 by William Heinemann

William Heinemann
The Random House Group Limited

20 Vauxhall Bridge Road, London SW1V 2SA

William Heinemann is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at
global.penguinrandomhouse.com

The Random House Group Limited Reg. No. 954009

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 9780434007420