Forgive and Forget (36 page)

Polly was thoughtful. ‘Maybe that’s the answer. I doubt Micky will wait as long as that.’ She bit her lip, wondering if she dare voice what was in her mind. ‘There’s another thing, though, Dad. I’m not sure if it’s right, but if a couple have a child out of wedlock, as they say—’

‘A bastard, you mean?’ William had no such sensibilities as his daughter. Polly flinched, but did not remonstrate with her father as she had with Violet. Instead, she ignored his remark and pressed on. ‘If that same couple eventually marry, doesn’t it legitimize the child?’

William stared at her. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea, Poll. Where did you hear that?’

Polly shrugged. ‘Oh, somewhere – I can’t remember.’ She wasn’t about to reveal that she’d been gossiping with Nelly about the matter and she’d said something of the sort.

William sniffed. ‘Well, it dun’t mek a lot of difference. Everyone knows the kid was born a bastard and that’s what it’d always be in their eyes. Even with shotgun weddings, folks always know.’ His voice dropped and his eyes had a haunted look. ‘Folks have long memories, Poll. They never forget.’

Gently, but greatly daring, Polly said, ‘And aren’t you doing just the same thing? Bearing grudges against the Fowler family? Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’ve no time for them either. Not any of them – only little Dottie maybe – but if he’s Violet’s choice, then surely . . . ?’ Her voice faded away.

‘Micky does have quite a good job now, Mr Long-den—’

William’s head shot up and he glared at his son-in-law. ‘And I don’t, you mean?’

Roland flushed as he stuttered. ‘No – no – I didn’t mean that. Please, I – was just trying to – to help.’

William’s anger died as swiftly as it had come. ‘Sorry, lad. I’m just tetchy about the subject, that’s all. I didn’t mean to snap your head off.’

‘What I was trying to say is that although he’s still working on the market, I understand he’s no longer with Vince Norton.’

‘Well, that’s summat, I suppose,’ William grunted and then glanced at Polly. ‘What d’you think, Poll? Should we let her go ahead and marry him?’

‘Oh, Dad, I don’t know.’

‘If she did move out, what’d happen to the family?’ William said. ‘She’s not much of a housewife – not like you – but she’s better than nowt.’

‘Then you’d have to do the housework, Dad.’

The comical look on William’s scandalized face brought laughter back into the room.

‘You can’t go on like this, Polly dear,’ Roland said anxiously a few day’s later after their conversation with William. ‘You’ll make yourself ill. You’re doing too much. You’re keeping this house like a new pin
and
you’re going round to your old home every day and doing what Violet should be doing. You’re wearing yourself out.’

Polly didn’t argue. Instead, she said, ‘I saw Mrs Halliday today.’

Roland’s head shot up and his hurt gaze searched her face.‘Why?’

Once, there had been true friendship between Polly and the older woman, but since the riots Polly had hardly seen her. The shadow of Leo hung between them. Polly had hurt her son unbearably and even the generous-spirited Bertha Halliday couldn’t forgive her any more than Polly was prepared to forgive Leo for arresting her father, thereby being the instigator of William ending up in prison. Maybe, deep down, the woman understood Polly’s feelings, but she could never voice it; she would never utter a word against her own son, even though she might secretly question some of the things he’d done in the course of his duty. Since Leo had joined the police force – a fact she’d been very proud of at first – Bertha had found that some of her neighbours avoided her. And it had been even more apparent since the strike and the trouble that had followed. The Longden family was not the only one that couldn’t ignore Leo’s actions at that time.

So when Bertha opened her door to find Polly standing on her doorstep, she’d been surprised, but pleased. She’d always liked the girl and would have loved to have had her as her daughter-in-law.

Now Polly explained gently to Roland the reason she’d been forced to seek out Bertha’s help.

‘She’s still the local midwife round here, but she doesn’t just deliver babies, Roland, she helps young mothers through their pregnancies. Doctors would cost a lot of money and . . .’

Roland closed his eyes and groaned. ‘Oh no, don’t tell me. Violet has got herself pregnant again.’

Polly was blushing prettily, but still her husband didn’t seem to understand what she was trying to tell him. ‘No, no, Roland dear.
I
went to see Mrs Halliday about myself, not about Violet.’

Slowly, he raised his head and looked at her as realization began to dawn. It spread across his face, slowly at first and then with a flood of joy that Polly didn’t think she’d ever seen on any man’s face, not even on Leo’s in their happiest moments.

He grasped her hands tightly. ‘Oh, Polly, are you sure? Are we really going to have a little one of our own?’

Polly, her eyes shining, nodded and then found herself clasped in his arms. He rocked her to and fro. ‘Oh, Polly, my love, my love.’

There was no doubting Roland’s excitement; he told anyone and everyone who would listen. ‘I never thought it would happen to me. I’ve a lovely wife and now I’m going to be a dad. Can you believe it?’

His listeners would smile indulgently and later would say to each other, ‘No, I can’t quite believe it, but there you are. And the feller deserves a bit of happiness, when all’s said and done.’

Polly’s news made William think; perhaps it would be better to allow Violet to marry Micky Fowler. It looked as if they were both determined to do it anyway when Violet was old enough. So there was no good reason to make them wait. And, if Polly was right in what she’d been told, it would make their little boy legitimate. And William was becoming increasingly fond of Michael.

By March William had relented and agreed that Violet could marry Micky Fowler. ‘That’s if you can get him to the altar, girl. ’Cos I reckon if you don’t lift your skirts for him soon, he’ll find someone who will.’

But to everyone’s surprise, Micky Fowler didn’t find another girl. He proposed one night when he was, it had to be admitted, a little worse for the drink, but nevertheless in the cold light of day he didn’t try to back out.

Polly, still anxious for her sister, did something she never thought she would ever do; she sought out Micky.

‘Are you serious about our Vi?’ she asked bluntly. ‘Or are you just stringing her along?’

He looked at her for a moment before saying, very solemnly, ‘Poll, if I say something to you, will you promise it’ll go no further? Not – not even to your husband and certainly never to Violet.’

She wondered what on earth it was he was going to say, but with a brief nod of her head she gave her word.

He sighed and glanced away. ‘I’ve told you before, Poll, it was always you. I think you thought I was joking, but I wasn’t. I’ve never been more serious in my life. It was you I wanted. Still do, if I’m honest.’ He gave a quick grin. ‘And I’m not often that honest am I?’

Polly was stunned into silence and could only stare at him.

‘But when I could see that you only had eyes for Leo – ’ He shrugged. ‘Well, I gave up and turned to your little sister. Oh, I’m fond of Vi, don’t get me wrong. And Michael’s a great kid. I’m proud of him, but – ’ He bit his lip and scuffed the ground with the toe of his shoe. ‘When the riot happened and your dad and mine were in the thick of it, standing shoulder to shoulder for what they believed in, I thought our families might get closer, you know. Then, when you fell out with Leo, I began to hope again. I couldn’t help it, Poll. Don’t be mad at me. And then you had to go and marry that milksop, Roland Spicer. I couldn’t believe it when I heard.’ He searched her face. ‘Did you do it to spite Leo?’

‘No – no,’ she cried, finding her voice at last through the shock of what he was telling her. She’d known he’d once cared for her, but she’d never thought he still carried that same feeling after all this time. ‘Don’t ever say that. Roland is a good man. I – I’m very fond of him.’

‘But you don’t love him, Poll, do you? Not really.’

‘Of course, I do,’ she declared hotly, but knew the colour rising in her face belied her words. Pulling her wandering thoughts together, she snapped, ‘We’re not talking about me, Micky, but about you and Vi. Are you saying you don’t really love her?’

He chewed on his lower lip. ‘Let’s say, Poll, that I love her as much as you love Roland Spicer.’

Polly’s blood ran cold. He’d trapped her. If she tried to persuade him not to marry her sister, then he would know she didn’t truly love her own husband. And yet how could she let the marriage go ahead if he didn’t care deeply for Violet? It was doomed to disaster before it even started. But Micky was not done. He touched her hand lightly and said, ‘Don’t worry, Big Sister. We’ll mek a go of it – me an’ Vi. We’re from the same mould. You and me – ’ he hesitated as if it took him a lot to admit it – ‘you and me would never have survived together. You’re too good for me. Too honest. It’d’ve been a nightmare. Better things the way they are. But I’ll just say one thing to you, Polly. Though you may not believe me, I love you with all my heart – always have done – and if ever you need a friend, I’ll always be there for you.’

She looked deep into his eyes and saw something she’d never thought to see in the eyes of Micky Fowler – sincerity. Then swiftly he was back to being his teasing, flippant self. ‘Besides we’re going to be brother and sister-in-law, aren’t we?’

Despite seeing an unexpected side to Micky’s nature, Polly shuddered, fearing for Violet. She turned and walked away, and later she wondered if her mind had been playing tricks on her or if maybe she had dreamt the whole incident.

She really couldn’t believe what she’d heard from Micky’s own mouth. There had been three men in her life: Leo, whom she had adored, but whom a cruel fate had snatched from her; Roland, who loved her devotedly, but for whom she could only summon a fondness; and now Micky. Micky Fowler, whom she would have said, had anyone asked her, that she hated.

She sighed. Life really was very complicated and most unfair.

Violet and Micky were married very quietly early in April, with the Longdens on one side of the aisle and the Fowlers on the other, glaring at each other.

As they left the church, William and Bert found themselves walking side by side.

‘We didn’t want this any more than you did, William. I hardly wanted my lad mixed up with a jailbird’s family. But I s’pose we’ve got to make the best of it now, eh? What say we shake hands and let bygones be bygones?’

William stared at him as if he couldn’t quite believe his ears. ‘You’d have been in jail alongside me if you hadn’t slunk away into the night and left the rest of us to take the blame. I saw you smash a shop window, Bert Fowler. Saw it with me own eyes, so don’t play the innocent with me.’ Then he thrust his face close to Bert’s and hissed the same words he’d used to Violet when he’d first learnt she wanted to marry Micky. He’d vowed this day would never happen, but it had. There was nothing he could do about it. But he could and would continue his feud with the Fowler family. ‘Over my dead body, Bert Fowler. An’ I’ll tell you summat else an’ all. If that lad of yourn hurts our Vi, it’ll be ’im at the bottom of the river next time – an’ I’ll mind there’s no one there to pull ’im out.’

Bert’s face darkened. ‘Dangerous words, William, dangerous words. If owt happens to my lad, I’ll know where to come lookin’ then, won’t I?’

‘Aye, happen you will.’

‘Prepared to swing for him, then, a’ ya?’

They had reached the church porch and stepped outside. William shook his fist in Bert’s face. ‘I reckon it’d be worth it if he dun’t treat my girl right.’

Bert’s mouth twisted. ‘And what about your girl treating our Micky right? She’s a flighty piece, so I’ve heard. An’ I’ve never been sure that bairn is really his.’

Before Bert realized what was happening, William had struck him on the mouth. Bert reeled backwards and fell to the ground with William standing astride him. ‘How dare you, Bert Fowler? You keep your filthy insinuations to yarsen.’

Bert, holding his mouth, struggled to his feet, whilst William waited, fists clenched, for the retaliation. But it never came.

‘Big words, William. Mek sure you know what they mean.’

Bert turned away. He grabbed his wife’s arm and hauled her after him. ‘We’re going, Hetty. And don’t you be letting any of the Longdens across my threshold. Only Violet, ’cos she’s a Fowler now. Only her and her bairn. You hear me, woman?’

Micky and Violet stood looking on helplessly.

‘Well, I aren’t going to live at your place, if that’s how he feels,’ Violet said. ‘You can come to ours.’

Polly, carrying Michael in her arms, moved forward and handed the child to Violet. Avoiding meeting Micky’s eyes, she said, ‘I don’t reckon that’s a good idea, Vi. Best try to find a place of your own. Start as you mean to go on.’

She could feel Micky’s gaze upon her as he said slowly, ‘Polly’s right, love. I’ll sort summat out, but come to ours just till I do.’

‘No,’ Violet said firmly in a tone that brooked no argument. ‘You do what you want, but I’m going home.’

Polly risked a swift glance at Micky’s face and had to stifle her laughter when she saw the look of horror on his face and heard him splutter, ‘But it’s our wedding night. I’ve waited months – ’