Forgive and Forget (16 page)

Polly and Leo continued to walk out together, and for the next two or three years life seemed to settle into a pattern. Polly still stayed at home to care for the family, though she was concerned for her friends when a disastrous fire destroyed Cannon’s glue factory one Bonfire Night. But it was rebuilt and Roland, Nelly and the other women were reinstated as soon as it reopened. William was in full-time employment on the railway and Eddie continued to work for Vince Norton alongside Micky Fowler. There was no more trouble, though rumours about the man still circulated. Violet enjoyed her job and was doing well, though Polly despaired of her sister’s grand ideas.

‘Getting above herself,’ she moaned to Bertha, but the older woman only laughed and said, ‘Tis the folks she’s mixing with at work, lass.’

Only Stevie, the quiet one of the family, and little Miriam caused Polly no worry. Stevie was growing fast and Polly could hardly keep pace with clothes for him. ‘He’s grown out of his trousers and his shoes
again
.’

‘I can help you with some decent trousers, duck,’ Bertha promised. ‘But shoes you’ll have to buy.’

And soon, it would be time for Miriam to start school. ‘I can’t believe where the time’s gone.’

Miriam was a sunny child, rather like Stevie in nature, but she chattered non-stop from morning until night.

‘Does that child ever shut up?’ Violet would mutter. ‘After a day dealing with awkward customers, she gives me a headache.’

But Polly liked the little girl’s liveliness.

Roland was still a regular visitor to the Longdens’ home and though he came ostensibly to accompany William to the pub on a Saturday night, Polly was acutely conscious that his glance frequently rested on her and followed her about the room.

‘Have you heard?’

Bertha Halliday was brimming over with the news, her eyes shining and her ample chest puffed out in pride.

Polly smiled as she led Miriam into Bertha’s kitchen one May morning. Their weekly visit on a Monday morning when the washing was done and hanging on the line in the backyard would soon be at an end. Miriam would be five just before Christmas and could start school when the autumn term began in September. Polly had mixed feelings; she relished the thought of a little more freedom, yet she would miss the child’s company. Though she would always find a warm welcome in Bertha’s kitchen, she knew.

‘I don’t know till you tell me.’

‘About the lion in the Arboretum?’

‘No. What about it?’

‘It’s been daubed with paint by some – some, well, vandals, I suppose you’d call them. At least – ’ her chest swelled even more – ‘that’s what my Leo’s calling them. All colours they’ve used.’ She chuckled in spite of herself. ‘I shouldn’t,’ she whispered almost like a naughty schoolchild and covered her mouth with her hand, ‘but ’e looks more like a tiger now, they say.’

Polly smiled thinly, but she was unable to see the funny side as a worrying thought came into her head. Eddie’s shirt that she had washed that very morning had streaks of black paint on it and even splashes of red and yellow. Surely . . . ?

Polly swallowed the fear rising in her throat. ‘Have they any idea who’s done it?’

‘No, the rascals got clean away. The park keeper’s livid. You know how proud he is of the Arboretum. I wouldn’t like to be in their shoes if he catches up with them.’

‘Are the – are the police involved?’

‘Oh yes. Leo reckons he knows who might’ve done it. But proving it’s another matter.’

Polly avoided looking at the older woman and busied herself finding something to occupy Miriam, but her heart was pounding in her chest. Just wait till she got hold of Eddie.

Despite her affection for Leo – a fondness that had grown into real love on both sides – Polly was no telltale and certainly not on her own family. If the law came knocking, then Eddie and his cronies would have to face up to whatever they’d done and take their punishment. She would never lie for them, but she wasn’t going to be the one to bring Leo or any of his fellow officers to their door.

But she meant to find out the truth, even if only for herself.

After tea that night whilst William sat dozing by the fire with his pipe and the younger ones were in bed, Polly pulled Eddie into the back scullery. Of Violet there was no sign.

‘Was it you?’

‘Was what me?’

‘The lion in the park? Everyone’s talking about it. Was it you?’

‘Everyone? Who’s everyone? Your precious Leo, I s’pose.’

‘There was paint on that shirt of yours I washed this morning.’

‘So? Me an’ Micky have been painting the stall for Vince.’ He grinned. ‘Very smart it looks.’

‘Is that where you and your cronies got the paint from then? ’Cos they reckon there was a gang of them.’ She paused and tightened her grip on his lapel. ‘Or was it just you and your friend Micky?’

He glared at her. ‘What if it was? What are you going to do? Tell the copper?’

Grimly, she thrust her face close to his and her whispered threat was far more menacing than if she’d shouted. ‘No, but I tell you this, Eddie Longden, if they do find out some other way that it was you and they question me, I’ll not lie for you. I’ve told you that before. I’ll not split on you, but, if I’m asked, I won’t lie neither.’

Eddie nodded. ‘Fair enough. We both know where we stand then, don’t we?’

‘Aye,’ Polly nodded. ‘I reckon we do. And that goes for the future, Eddie, an’ all. Me an’ Leo are walking out proper now and if he should ask me to marry him one day, then I mean to say yes.’

For a moment he stared at her and then he threw back his head and laughed. ‘Leo Halliday marry you? I wouldn’t hold your breath, Sis. He’d never take on all this brood you ’ave to look after.’

If he had punched her in the stomach, he couldn’t have wounded her more. She felt as if he had, indeed, knocked the breath out of her. She gave a gasp of shock and hurt and her grip on him loosened. He shook himself free and swaggered to the back door.

‘An’ I’ll tell you summat else an’ all, for what it’s worth. It’s not me you need to keep your beady eye on. I can tek care of mesen. But you watch out for our Violet.’

‘What do you mean? Eddie? Eddie . . . ?’

But he was gone, slamming the back door behind him.

When Violet came home a little later, Polly eyed her closely.

Since her sister had begun working at the department store and mixing with girls who were not only considerably older than Violet, but also more worldly-wise, Polly had been unable to control her. Violet had fast become what Bertha Halliday called ‘a little madam’. The younger girl did nothing to help about the house and only with a great deal of persuasion and William’s backing did she babysit the younger ones whilst Polly enjoyed an all too rare evening out. To her relief, though, Violet had never again left the children alone in the house, but every time Polly had been out with Leo, she’d been on tenterhooks all the time, wondering what was happening at home.

But tonight, for once, Violet was in a good mood. When she’d changed out of the smart costume she wore for work, she even carried some of the dishes from the scullery into the kitchen and laid them on the table.

‘Going out later, Vi?’ Polly tried to make her tone sound friendly and not as if she was interrogating the girl.

‘No. I want to wash my hair. Would you help me, Poll?’

Polly turned away, hiding her wry smile. So that was the reason for Violet’s sudden helpfulness: she wanted something. Over her shoulder, she said, with deliberate casualness, ‘Course I will.’ Then, mischievously, she added, ‘And then you can help me do mine.’

Washing their long hair was quite an operation for the two girls. Hot water had to be carried in jugs from the tap at the side of the range into the deep sink in the scullery. Then soaping and rinsing took several more jugs, before sitting on the pegged hearthrug to dry their hair in front of the fire. But tonight Polly took the opportunity of the shared intimacy to chat to her sister.

‘So are you still enjoying your job, Vi?’ she asked as they sat in front of the glowing coals, taking it in turns to rub each other’s hair dry with a towel.

‘Yes, it’s great – most of the time.’

Since she’d started working in the store, Polly had noticed that Violet was deliberately trying to speak better, to iron out the Lincolnshire dialect from her speech. She wondered if it was the girl’s own choice or whether her superiors at the store had suggested it. She didn’t like to ask Violet outright; such a question might spoil the closeness of the moment.

‘I suppose there’s things you don’t like about every job, but it really seems to suit you, Vi. You look so smart in the costume and wearing your hair up makes you look so much older.’

‘I’m fifteen,’ Violet reminded her.

Polly smiled wistfully. ‘I can hardly believe it and little Miriam nearly five already.’

There was a silence between them before Polly asked, ‘Do they let you serve the posh folk yet?’

‘Oh yes. I’m no longer the youngest assistant there. I’m still a junior, of course, but they let me do a lot more now. Miss Carr says I’ve a natural sales technique. I encourage the customers without being pushy.’

‘That’s a nice compliment. Who’s Miss Carr?’

‘The head of our department.’

‘And – and which department’s that?’

‘Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’ve moved to millinery. I sell the most marvellous creations to all the posh women.’ She giggled. ‘You should see some of them, Poll. Faces like the back end of a bus, but they’re the ones with the money.’

‘I’d love to see you in action.’

Violet stopped rubbing Polly’s long, tangled locks. ‘Don’t you dare, Poll. I don’t want you coming into the shop and showing me up.’

Slowly, Polly raised her head and looked into her sister’s eyes. ‘What – what d’you mean?’

Violet shrugged. ‘I know it’s not your fault, and you’re quite pretty, but you haven’t the first idea how to dress or do your hair. You leave it flowing free most of the time and it’s halfway down your back now. It’s a lovely colour but it’s so untidy. I mean, you’re eighteen now. You ought to put your hair up. And as for your clothes – ’ Now Violet actually rolled her eyes.

Polly bit back the angry retort that sprang to her lips. When did she ever have money to spare to spend on fancy clothes? Maybe if Violet gave her a bit more of her wages towards the housekeeping rather than keeping most of it for herself, then Polly would be able to afford a new frock now and again. But she held her tongue; she didn’t want to antagonize her sister.

With pretended meekness she said, ‘Perhaps you could show me how to put my hair up.’

Violet let a strand of Polly’s hair slide through her fingers. Then she smiled. ‘I’ll get you some combs and pins tomorrow and when you next go out with darling Leo he won’t recognize you.’

That was not quite what Polly had in mind, but perhaps Leo would like her to look a little more grown up. Perhaps it was high time she thought about herself for once instead of always worrying about the family.

But that was easier said than done. On the following Friday evening Violet dressed Polly’s hair for her in a smart chignon. And, to Polly’s surprise, she also agreed to stay in and mind the younger children without any argument, but Polly could still not quell the anxiety that was constantly at the back of her mind even when she was sitting in the Palace with her hand in Leo’s.

‘Come on, let’s take you home,’ Leo said as they came out of the music hall entertainment where they’d laughed and clapped and even joined in the singing. ‘You’ve not enjoyed this evening, have you?’

‘Oh, I have, I have,’ Polly cried. She hugged his arm close to her. ‘
And
you liked my hair up. Violet did it for me.’

Leo chuckled. ‘It makes you look very sophisticated.’

Polly giggled. ‘I’ll never be that.’

‘I wouldn’t want you to be.’ Leo traced the line of her jaw with a gentle finger. ‘I love you just the way you are.’

‘Oh, Leo,’ she breathed and might have said more, if a deep voice had not interrupted them.

‘Now then, young feller me lad. A’ you caught them little devils that des’crated yon lion in the park?’

Leo’s hand dropped away and Polly felt him stiffen. ‘Mr Soper,’ Leo greeted the man politely. ‘Our enquiries are continuing.’

‘Aye, mebbe so, but have you caught the rascals?’

‘Not yet, but—’

The man gave a grunt of exasperation. ‘Then you never will. You needed to catch ’em red-handed.’ He wagged a forefinger in Leo’s face. ‘And that’s not meant to be a pun on the colour of the paint they used neither.’

With her arm still through his, Polly felt Leo shaking. She glanced up at his face and saw that he was having difficulty in keeping his expression serious. Leo’s shaking was not with anger, but with laughter. He raised his hat to the man and bade him goodnight, promising that he and his colleagues would do everything they could to apprehend the culprits. Then he turned and hurried Polly away.

It wasn’t until they were some distance away and had turned a corner that he allowed his laughter to bubble up. He clung to Polly. ‘Oh, oh dear. I shouldn’t laugh. It was wrong of whoever did it, but I’ll never forget the look of righteous indignation on the park keeper’s face the following morning. You’d’ve thought they’d robbed him of all his possessions.’