One Night Only (9 page)

Poll
y
coul
d
hav
e
punche
d
he
r
righ
t
ther
e
an
d
then
,
but
sh
e
wa
s
no
t
th
e
violen
t
type
.
Sh
e
wa
s
a
middle-class
mothe
r
o
f
thre
e
an
d
ha
d
learne
d
lon
g
ag
o
i
n
a
previous
lif
e
ho
w
t
o
contro
l
he
r
tempe
r
.
Plu
s
i
t
wa
s
a
well-known fac
t
tha
t
Poo
r
Gin
a
ha
d
bee
n
punche
d
enough
.

Eve
r
sinc
e
sh
e
move
d
nex
t
doo
r
,
Poll
y
ha
d
picke
d
up th
e
piece
s
an
d
covere
d
u
p
fo
r
whe
n
Gin
a
ha
d
accidentally walke
d
int
o
th
e
doo
r
o
r
hi
t
he
r
le
g
o
n
th
e
kitche
n
tabl
e
or bashe
d
he
r
ey
e
whe
n
sh
e
stoo
d
o
n
a
rake
.
I
t
wa
s
lik
e
a
secre
t
cod
e
betwee
n
them
.
Poll
y
woul
d
neve
r
questio
n
it, an
d
Gin
a
woul
d
neve
r
divulg
e
th
e
truth
.
Perhap
s
she
woul
d
someda
y
,
Poll
y
tol
d
herself
.
But
,
i
n
th
e
meantime,
sh
e
woul
d
neve
r
pus
h
he
r
.

“O
h
.
.
.
oka
y
,
her
e
yo
u
go!
”
sh
e
said
,
takin
g
a
carton o
f
semi-skimme
d
mil
k
fro
m
th
e
fridg
e
an
d
placin
g
i
t
into
Gina
’
s
red
,
shak
y
hand
s
whils
t
tryin
g
t
o
breath
e
a
s
he
r
leg
buckle
d
beneat
h
he
r
i
n
pain
.
“
T
el
l
T
revo
r
t
o
pu
t
tha
t
in
hi
s
te
a
and
,
er
m
.
.
.
drin
k
it!
”

“Thanks
,
you’r
e
a
darlin’
,
Poll
y
,
”
Gin
a
sai
d
i
n
her stron
g
Dubli
n
accent
.
“Bu
t
th
e
thin
g
is
,
I
nee
d
anothe
r
few
thing
s
too.
”

“Lik
e
what?
”
aske
d
Poll
y
wit
h
a
desperat
e
ni
p
i
n
her
voice
.
T
eabags
?
Bread
?
Blood
?

“Somethin
g
fo
r
th
e
tea,
”
sh
e
said
.
“
I
haven
’
t
a
bit
e
in th
e
house
.
I
swea
r
o
n
m
e
child
’
s
life
.
No
t
a
bite
.
I
couldn
’
t
ge
t
grocerie
s
a
t
th
e
weeken
d
co
s
I
–
I
hur
t
m
y
le
g
when
climbin
g
th
e
stair
s
an
d
th
e
ca
r
i
s
i
n
th
e
garag
e
an
d
he’l
l
be starvin
g
i
f
–
I
mean
,
whe
n
h
e
come
s
home
.
Y
o
u
know wha
t
me
n
ar
e
lik
e
.
.
.
”

Hur
t
he
r
le
g
whe
n
sh
e
wa
s
climbin
g
th
e
stairs
?
That
was
a
new
one
though
Polly
had
just
done
that
very
thing
herself
.
Bu
t
Gin
a
ha
d
n
o
nee
d
t
o
swea
r
o
n
he
r
child
’
s
life.
Ther
e
reall
y
wa
s
n
o
nee
d
fo
r
tha
t
whe
n
bot
h
wome
n
knew th
e
ugl
y
truth
.

“Coul
d
yo
u
tak
e
m
e
ove
r
t
o
th
e
Spar?
”
sh
e
asked
,
a
s
if
sh
e
wa
s
askin
g
fo
r
Polly
’
s
las
t
tenne
r
.
“Please
?
I’l
l
onl
y
be
a
minut
e
o
r
two
.
I
promise.
”

Poll
y
looke
d
a
t
Gin
a
standin
g
i
n
he
r
kitchen
.
Sh
e
really
wa
s
a
hopeles
s
sigh
t
i
n
he
r
we
e
flip-flop
s
wit
h
th
e
desperate
we
e
quive
r
i
n
he
r
voice
.
Bu
t
Poll
y
love
d
Gin
a
an
d
would
driv
e
he
r
t
o
Cor
k
an
d
bac
k
i
f
sh
e
aske
d
he
r
to
.
Sh
e
was th
e
gentlest
,
kindes
t
sou
l
wh
o
ha
d
bee
n
deal
t a
sorr
y
deck wher
e
husband
s
wer
e
concerned
.
On
e
da
y
,
though
t
Poll
y
,
on
e
da
y
she’l
l
realis
e
tha
t
h
e
i
s
no
t
wort
h
i
t
an
d
sh
e
will
finall
y
ge
t
u
p
an
d
go
.