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Authors: Katie Flynn

Tags: #General, #Sagas, #Fiction

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BOOK: The Runaway
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‘That explains a lot,’ Dana said, eyeing Polly with respect. ‘You look so frail, Poll, but you’re as strong as me any day of the week. I used to wonder how a little thing like you could lift wire baskets full of cutlery in and out of the boiling water, when I always had to call for help.’

‘So did I,’ Polly pointed out. ‘That’s how me and Ern got to be pals.’

‘Well, I’m glad you’ve told me how things were when you were a kid, though it’s made me feel terribly ashamed,’ Dana said. She pulled a face. ‘I’d never have told you about my visit to the seaside if I’d realised how dreadful your life had been. Has it ever occurred to you, Poll, that the reason your mother never came back was because she died? I mean, she got angry very easily and even the walk across the city made her puff and pant. If she had died no one would’ve known where you were, so you can’t blame Hannah for not coming to rescue you. I’m sure she would’ve done if she had known where to look.’

She looked enquiringly at Polly, but that young person
shook her head decisively. ‘No, I’ll lay my life my mam never told Hannah where I’d gone, but she didn’t cock up her toes. I didn’t say I never saw her again, because I did. She come round to Egremont House when I were fourteen or fifteen, just before I left for work at the Willows, begging to be allowed to see me. There were an interview room there for girls to be private with a visitor, so Miss Hebden showed me in there and the first thing I saw was me mam, red in the face and sitting squashed into one of the big leather chairs. When she saw me she squawked out, “Oh, Polly, me darlin’ child, your mam’s called for you at last! How we’ve missed you! But now our troubles are over and I’ve come to take you home.”

‘I said nothing, just stared at her, and after a few moments she tried to struggle out of her chair but she was so fat that when she stood up the chair tried to come with her. So she sank back again, which was as well, because my flesh crept at the idea of her touching me. The silence seemed to stretch and stretch and when she realised I was not going to speak she began to grumble that Hannah had gone off with some feller, that the twins were working but devils the pair of them, refusing to give their poor ole mam so much as a ha’penny for their keep, and that the younger twins and Sissy, Isobel and Mary, three little sisters I had never met, were limbs of Satan and in desperate need of an older sister to keep order.

‘I guessed why she had come, of course. She wanted someone to look after the kids now that Hannah had gone, and she must’ve realised that I was old enough now to contribute to the family income as well. I still
didn’t say anything, and when the door opened behind me and Miss Hebden came into the room my sense of relief was so enormous that I could’ve cried. “Who is this woman?” I asked. “She says she’s my mother but she is mistaken; I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

‘My mother wailed and swore I was her own little Polly, but when I persisted in refusing to know her she grew angry and abusive, and I slipped out of the room, leaving Miss Hebden to get rid of her, which she did. The teacher asked several questions, but I simply repeated that I did not know the woman and I think Miss Hebden realised that having abandoned me long ago she now had no claim on me. Within a week I had left Egremont House, first extracting a promise from Miss Hebden that they would never tell her where I had gone. They agreed without hesitation … and the rest you know.’

Dana heaved a deep, satisfied sigh. ‘You did the right thing,’ she said approvingly. ‘After the way she treated you, your mother had no claim on you whatsoever.’

There was a longish pause before Polly spoke again. ‘I kno-ow,’ she said slowly. ‘But I can’t bear to hear that Bible story any more, you know, the one in the New Testament when Peter – was it Peter? – was asked if he knew Jesus, and denied him three times. I denied that the woman
was
my mother, though I knew perfectly well it wasn’t true.’

‘But I do think the cases are a little different,’ Dana said apologetically. ‘Your mother had done you great harm in the past, and had you gone with her would undoubtedly have done you great harm again. In a way, you could almost say that by denying her you were saving her from the sin of ill treating you all over again.
If you understand what I mean,’ she ended, feeling rather confused herself.

Polly laughed. ‘I never looked at it like that but I do believe you’re right. She never liked me, you see. I was so different from the others in the family, being blonde and little, that I sometimes wonder now whether I was me dad’s get or whether I come in by a side door. Once I were carryin’ a paper of chips across the kitchen when I slipped on a patch of water, crashed on to me knees and scattered chips far and wide. It were an accident, and I couldn’t have been more than four, but Mam battered me till I thought she’d kill me; if Hannah hadn’t interfered I reckon she would’ve – killed me, I mean. I’ve heard tell there’s always one child in a big family who’s what they call the scapegoat – that’s in the Bible too – and I reckon in the Smith family the scapegoat were me. So mebbe you’re right, mebbe I saved her from the sin of murder.’ She chuckled suddenly, seeing the look of horror on Dana’s freckled face. ‘Oh, don’t look so worried, gairl; it were your suggestion in the first place. Only remember, Dana, you ran away from a good home, good friends and a loving family. You want to think hard before you cut yourself off from that Castletara you talk about in your dreams.’

Chapter Nine

January 1939

DANA HAD BEEN
running the cinema cafeteria for the best part of a year, very successfully, and her dreams continued; in fact, she knew that the most dreadful dream of all must be just round the corner and wished with all her heart and soul that she could elude it. However, she knew the dream would come, like it or not, so she went off to work one icy winter’s day determined to do a big batch of cooking as well as all her usual tasks. Sometimes, when she was thoroughly worn out, she did not dream at all and she hoped that this might be one of those occasions.

When she arrived at the cinema Polly was already there, checking her area, for though the cleaners came in between every showing there was always the chance that a sweet paper or an ice cream wrapper might have become trapped in the tip-up seats, and nothing annoyed a cinemagoer more than standing up after the performance to find a toffee paper or a blob of melted ice cream adhering to skirt or trousers. Dana could hear the organist thumping out the music that followed the Pathé News, and grinned at Polly as her friend came through the swing doors. ‘Reg having a practice run?’ she asked. ‘No more news from Mr Chamberlain, I suppose? Do you
know, I’ve not met anyone who believes all that “peace for our time” nonsense he trotted out last year. If the government believed it, they’d scarcely issue gas masks or start digging trenches in Hyde Park, and they’re doing both.’

‘I dunno; I were checking my seats,’ Polly said vaguely. ‘I watch the news, of course I do, although it’s pretty pointless really. I mean what can we do? And it’s only depressing when you hear about folk being beaten senseless just because their noses are half an inch longer than Hitler reckons they ought to be. I don’t understand the perishin’ Germans. Can’t they see that that feller Hitler’s mad as a crab and oughter be put away? Why, when they first showed the German troops goose-stepping on the news there was roars of laughter from every soul in the cinema.’

‘Yes, I know, but mad people are frightening,’ Dana said. ‘And I agree with you, there’s nothing we can do. I keep hoping the ordinary German people will kick him out, but if they don’t I suppose we’ll have to; kick him out, I mean.’

‘Oh,
if
there’s a war,’ Polly said. ‘But I suppose there will be one, and sooner than later. When it comes I shall do my bit, like everyone else.’

‘When it happens, I might join one of the services,’ Dana said. ‘I quite fancy the Wrens, because they have lovely black stockings and really smart uniforms, only their hats are just like those awful felt things the convent girls wear. Or I suppose I could work in one of the munitions factories, or make parts for planes, or uniforms. Yes, uniforms is a good idea because they teach you to use commercial sewing machines. I’ve never been any
good with my needle but I might be brilliant on a sewing machine. What about you, Poll?’

‘I’d like to stay here; I like Jake and Ralph and I love being an usherette,’ Polly said wistfully. ‘But ever since Ernie got the job in that hush-hush factory out in the country, he’s been nagging me to go and work there. The money’s awful good and he’s saving up for a motorbike, because unless you’ve got your own transport half your wages go on trams, buses and taxis. But I told him it’s no use going on; Ralph says I’m one of the best of the usherettes, and when you count the overtime he pays I wouldn’t be that much better off in a factory. But why are you in so early, Dana? You don’t open till twelve.’

‘I’m going to make a batch of scones and a couple of apple pies; they’re our most popular dessert, served with custard, or Eldorado ice cream.’

‘Ooh, I love apple pie, specially with ice cream,’ Polly said. ‘I’ll come up in my afternoon break – unless I’m too busy, of course, but I shouldn’t be, Monday’s always a quiet day – and buy myself a slice.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Dana said over her shoulder as she headed for the steep stairs which led to the cafeteria. Like Polly she knew herself to be a highly regarded member of staff, and of course the friendship which existed between herself and Ralph helped. But sometimes, when they were discussing some problem which had arisen, something he said or did would remind her sharply of Con and force her to acknowledge that it was Ralph’s likeness to her old friend which made him such an acceptable companion. The idea of taking him back to Castletara was laughable, however. He belonged in the new life she was painfully carving out for herself.
In her past Conan Devlin reigned supreme, or had done. But the Con who accompanied her in her dreams was the old Con, the one who had not yet transgressed.

Dana climbed the last few stairs, unlocked the door and entered her domain. She walked between the tables, clean and ready set for customers, and went into the kitchen. In moments she had her ingredients lined up next to the weighing machine, had lit the gas in the double oven and turned it to the heat she required. There was a big modern refrigerator in one corner, and as well as a large urn for the customers’ tea or coffee there was an electric kettle so that the staff could make themselves a cup of tea without waiting for the urn to come to the boil. Within minutes Dana was inserting trays of scones into the oven and sipping her first cup of tea. If Ralph wanted her to stay late to discuss a change of suppliers – for one firm had proved unreliable – then she would raise no objection. She did not intend to dream tonight unless it was of Mr Chamberlain and his piece of paper or the digging of trenches in Hyde Park. Dana weighed, measured, stirred and rolled out, and tried not to think about war.

The weeks wore on. Dana was quieter than usual, answering everything Polly said but rarely instigating any topic of her own. Polly thought that her friend was mulling over the possibility of war and found herself hoping that war, if it came, would not change the life she had made for herself. Oh, I wish I was clever like Dana and pretty like Caitlin, but that’s about all I’d change, she told herself. I’ve found a job I can do really well, I get to see the pictures without having to pay a
penny, I share rooms with the best pal a girl could have, and then there’s Ernie, wanting to take me out and spend his hard-earned cash on a boat trip in Prince’s Park or a ticket to the dance hall, or even a voyage across to New Brighton when the weather’s warmer.

A slit of light showed as a couple pushed open the swing doors and Polly hurried over to them, shining her torch first at her own feet, so that the customers could see she was approaching, and next at the young man’s hands, holding out their tickets of admission. She checked the tickets and directed her beam towards two empty seats. ‘Them do you?’ she asked, for the cinema was by no means full and the tickets entitled customers to any seats in the circle. ‘If you’d rather sit nearer the front …’

‘Them’s fine,’ the young man said, shepherding his companion into the row indicated and settling himself whilst his girlfriend took off her coat and headscarf and produced a large bag containing some sort of sweets; toffees probably. The young man’s hands were deeply grimed; not the sort of hands to buy a girl a large box of Black Magic, Polly told herself, before turning to face the screen once more. The titles were flickering up; presently the wonderful translucent golden drapes would be drawn across the screen and the fire curtain, far more mundane but far more useful, would descend. The young couple had timed it nicely, and sitting on the end of the row as they were they would not even have to leave their seats to purchase the ice cream, peanuts or chocolate bars with which Polly would presently parade up and down the aisles. Now folk would recognise friends, seats would be swapped, there would be much laughter and talk of the film to come, which was
Lost Horizon
starring Ronald
Colman, much admired by the females in the audience, though the men would have preferred Gary Cooper, or a glamorous female star.

Polly hurried to the office, filled her tray with goodies as the other usherettes were doing and arrived back just as the fire curtain descended. She began to parade along the end of the rows. ‘Ice creams, peanuts, chocolate bars …’ she intoned, thinking that upstairs, in the cafeteria, Dana would be removing her large cooking apron to reveal a smart black dress and a frilly white pinny just about now. Until the main meal in the evening customers mostly wanted sandwiches, scones and fancy cakes, none of which needed cooking, so Dana would assist the waitresses until requests for hot food began to come in and then she would revert to her overall once more. ‘You get two workers for the price of one,’ she teased Ralph from time to time, but Polly knew and assumed that their bosses knew also that Dana liked to be busy.

BOOK: The Runaway
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