Polly's Pride (43 page)

‘We’re having a meeting soon, matter of fact. I’ll ask him to join us,’ Big Flo magnanimously offered.

‘Thank you. Not that I could guarantee he’d come.’
 

‘Doesn’t hurt to ask. He needs to repent and sign the pledge. He can start by coming to our coffee and bun evenings. That might do the trick.’

Polly couldn’t hold back her mirth any longer and burst cut laughing at the very thought of Murdoch consuming coffee and sticky buns with a gathering of Methodist matrons. Big Flo stared at her perplexed, one huge hand poised with a sandwich halfway to her mouth. ‘Have I said summat funny?’

Polly was wiping tears of joy from her cheeks. ‘No, Flo. There’s nothing funny about such worthy causes, except the idea of my father joining them. I’m thinking he can’t hold out much longer. He must be dying for a good soaking.’

A few nights later she heard the too-familiar scratch of his key at the front door, and her father’s raucous voice giving a loud rendition of ‘
When Irish Eyes
’. Murdoch Shaughnessy was roaring drunk.

How many times as a child had Polly lain listening to his tuneless singing and his pathetic struggles to find the lock? How many times had she got up from her warm bed to let him in, only to have her head knocked for her trouble? Now Polly didn’t move but continued to stay curled beside the body of her daughter, listening intently until she heard the door bang open. She almost turned over then, to drift back to sleep, when she realised she hadn’t heard it close again. Only then did she resignedly climb out of bed, pull on her dressing gown and make her way wearily downstairs in the semi-darkness.

Outside the night was dark and still, a shaft of moonlight slanting across the road. For a fleeting second Polly thought she saw a figure standing beneath the lamp-post, but she’d already pushed the door closed with her toe. By the time she pulled it open again to check, the pool of light below the lamp was empty, as it should be. It probably always had been. She was so tired she was imagining ghosts now. She made sure the door was locked, then started back upstairs, eager to return to her warm bed and much needed sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Murdoch’s period of abstinence was soon over. Only days later on her way home from work, Polly heard the row long before she reached the street corner. Sure enough there he was, fighting drunk, throwing punches at some other unfortunate inebriate who had happened to displease him. Within seconds the pair of them were rolling in the dirt, arms clasped tight about each other as if for support. The evidence of this latest failure was yet another bitter pill for her to swallow. Rage threatened to choke her. How dare he do this to her? How could he behave in such a manner in front of her new neighbours? She didn’t need to glance about her to know that the lace curtains would be twitching and folk would be speculating on this new resident who had brought disorder into their peaceful lives. Scarlet with temper and embarrassment, Polly marched straight up to her father and yelled at him.

‘Can I not trust you to stay sober for even a few hours while I’m at work?’

Flat on his back, he beamed happily up at her. ‘Polly, m’darlin’. Is it dinner-time already?’

Were it not for the gathering audience of curious onlookers she might well have slapped his silly face. Years of listening to his useless promises stabbed her to the heart. What a fool she had been. Why had she ever let him stay, or pretended to believe in him? If she didn’t watch out she’d end up just like her poor mother.

Reaching down, she grabbed him by his coat collar and started to yank him to his feet. ‘May the good Lord forgive you, great useless good-for-nothing drunkard that you are. Get out of my life before I do something I’ll be sorry for.’

‘Aw, Mary Ann, don’t take on so. Sure and you make me head ache.’

She swore at him, loudly and comprehensively, telling her father she would knock his head off his unmentionable shoulders if he didn’t pick himself up and move.

He staggered to his feet, only to sag on to the door step and flop, eyes half closed, focusing upon some unseen place in his head. She made to lift him up, to get him into the house, out of sight of her neighbours, but it was then that Polly learned an unpalatable fact. One she’d much rather not have heard yet recognised as the truth at last, for it confirmed Charlie’s warning.

‘Sure and wasn’t Joshua right in what he told me?’ grumbled her father. ‘Ye’ve the meanest temper of all the Irish in Manchester, and isn’t that saying something? He said I’d have me work cut out to make you happy.’ Murdoch put one hand to his head, as if to make sure it was still there. ‘The divil take it, I’m that tired I could sleep for a week.’

‘Who told you what?’ Polly’s voice had grown ominously quiet. ‘Are you saying that you had a conversation with my brother-in-law? About me?’ When he didn’t answer but looked like slipping into sleep, she reached out, grasping his arms and shook him. ‘
When
? Will you answer my question? When and where did you discuss me with Joshua?’

‘Will you stop your blathering and leave go of me, girl?’ He swiped at her, catching her off balance so that she fell sideways, bruising her cheek on the stone wall. Polly put up a hand, feeling the warm sting of blood but not stopping to staunch it or care who witnessed their quarrel, not any longer. ‘Tell me what Joshua asked you to do.’

‘Sure and didn’t he offer me this accommodation in the first place? A gennelman to be sure. Bought me a Guinness and a chaser to help me on my way. Generous to a fault he is. Oh, me bleedin’ head’s fallin’ off,
Mary
Ann. Let me lie down, for pity’s sake.’ He flung a punch at her again but this time she was ready for him, and ducked neatly out of the way. Having missed his target he lost his balance and sprawled headlong down the path. Polly stood over him, her face a picture of cold fury.

‘Joshua offered you accommodation in my house, did he?’ She was beside herself with rage. Charlie had been right. The whole thing had been a set-up. She’d been made a fool of, manipulated yet again by her oh-so-clever brother-in-law.

Joshua appeared entirely unconcerned, insisting he was doing Polly a favour by finding her long lost father, after all these years.

‘Ye did it deliberately! Don’t take me for a complete fool.’ Polly paced the tiny kitchen, almost demented with fury. ‘You thought you’d put a spoke in my wheel now I’ve got a place of my own at last. Not to mention stirring things up between me and Charlie by sending me drunkard father back into my life. You knew how I felt about him, and that he could never stay sober. But you also guessed, very cleverly, that I’d be too soft to throw him out.’

Joshua leaned back in his chair, rubbed his index finger slowly over the bridge of his nose and smiled. ‘Dear me, what a sad state of affairs. And there’s me thinking you Catholics always stick together, as we Methodists do.’ He looked so self-righteous and full of himself in that moment that Polly came close to striking him.

‘You’re twisting me words, drat your eyes. D’you think I came down with the last snow fall?’ She wagged one finger at him. ‘I know your little game. What I’m saying is you didn’t send him to me out of generosity but as a deliberate ploy to upset me and ruin my life.’

‘Don’t unload your sense of guilt on me.’

‘Guilt?’ Polly clenched her small fists then raised them high, eyes closed as if praying for patience. ‘Dear God, you’d drive a saint to murder, so you would.’

It was Big Flo who saved the situation by stepping in to calm tempers all round. ‘I’m sure he only meant it for the best, Polly. And you did at least try, as I did, to persuade your father on to a more sober path. But thee were quite right, he did refuse to come along to our meetings. Happen he’ll see the light one day. We can only hope so. Don’t blame yourself, lass.’ And, reaching out, she put her great arms about Polly’s trembling frame to hold her close. Polly was grateful for this unexpected comfort, but finally shook herself free of her mother-in-law’s embrace and faced Joshua again, her gaze unswerving.

‘Let’s make this absolutely clear. I’m Catholic. Always was, always will be. Your brother, my lovely husband, was not. It didn’t trouble us, so it shouldn’t have bothered you. Now Matt’s dead and none of this matters any more. I’ve taken my children away for their own good. From now on I mean to lead my own life and I’ll suffer no more interference from you or anyone. Is that clear?’

‘As crystal.’

She was surprised by his placid reply, almost hesitated before pushing on with her prepared statement. ‘I want you to understand that it’s over. You must leave us alone so we can be free. Right?’

Big Flo was looking anxiously from one to the other, wringing her hands. When Joshua did not immediately reply, she gave him a nudge with one clenched fist. ‘Go on, lad, say you will. What the lass says is fair enough. Our Matt has been dead a while now. She’s a grown woman and should be free to start afresh, in another house, with another chap. Its only right and proper. And it’s time we had a bit of family peace. Is it agreed?

Joshua looked into his mother’s face, and then into Polly’s, striving to mask the loathing he felt for her. Now was not the moment for a showdown, not with his mother present. Besides, there were better ways. Slowly, very slowly, he smiled as calmly and benevolently as he could manage. ‘Of course. I too wish for family harmony. How could you imagine otherwise? Polly is perfectly free to do as she pleases. I only tried to do what I thought best for them.

‘Course you did.’ Big Flo folded her great arms as if she’d just won ten rounds in a wrestling contest. ‘There we are then. All mended, done and dusted. Isn’t that grand? Now, shake hands, the pair on you. It’s time breaches were healed.’ And she smiled with pleasure as, after some initial reluctance on Polly’s part, this was brought about.

When Charlie came home Polly ran into his arms and begged him never to go away again. ‘Aw, didn’t I miss you every waking moment? I’m sorry we quarrelled. What an old gripe I am. Will you forgive me?’

He seemed to have forgiven and forgotten already for he was kissing and hugging her as if he might never let go. Later, much later, he told her all about his trip to Liverpool. He’d seen a man, he said, off whom he’d bought a load of brushes, brooms and wash leathers which Charlie was certain would sell well on his barrow. ‘He also gave me an interesting piece of news.’ And he began a tale which held Polly enthralled from the first word to the last. She wasted no time when he was done in going straight to her children.

‘Lucy, will you keep an eye on Benny for me? I have to go away.’

‘Go away where? Her daughter looked concerned.

‘Don’t fret, it’s only for a little while. To Liverpool, to see a man about a ship.’

Benny, who had been taking an interest in the conversation since it concerned him, opened his eyes wide. ‘What sort of ship? Can I see it?’ He was considering a change of career if he ever got bored with his mam’s warehouse, perhaps in the navy instead of the railway. He didn’t feel quite the same about trains as he used to.

Polly tweaked his nose. ‘No, you can’t see it. You still have to go to school. It’s a liner about to be decommissioned. That is, broken up. And isn’t it filled from stem to stern with fine things which have to be auctioned?’

‘You mean, carpets?’ Lucy asked, excitement in her voice.

‘I do indeed. The finest the steamship company could buy. Sure and if I manage to get a fraction of what’s on offer at a bargain price, won’t we make a small fortune?’

Lucy’s jaw dropped. She was trying to imagine the size a ship’s carpet might be. ‘Will we be able to cope with it?’ But Polly only chortled with glee at the prospect.

‘Let’s say it’ll be a challenge, but one we can meet. I haven’t the smallest doubt of that, m’cushla.’

And so it was agreed that she and Charlie would go to Liverpool to bid for as much of the ship’s carpet as they could get. Benny and Lucy would continue to help Big Flo at the warehouse, and Lucy would see to Benny’s meals and that he went to school on time, despite his protests that he didn’t need any girl to tell him what to do.

‘And what about your da?’ Charlie mildly enquired, blue eyes twinkling.

‘We were both right- me about him being completely unreliable and forever falling off the wagon, and you about Joshua having planned the whole thing. But we’ve made a pact. My brother-in-law has promised faithfully to stay out of my life in future. We’re free of him at least.

‘As for me da - sure and I’ve no idea what’ll happen to him, nor do I care.’ But a frown of concern gave the lie to that statement. By the next day she had her answer, in part at least.

Polly and Charlie were packing their bags ready to depart when they saw him. Murdoch was dressed in his smartest derby tweeds and bowler hat, a blue collar and tie instead of his usual muffler, face scrubbed clean and shiny. The very picture of sobriety.

‘I’m off now, Mary Ann. Have a good trip,’ he said in his cheeriest voice.

‘Off where?’ She thought for a moment that he meant he was leaving and felt a jolt of unexpected disappointment. In that instant Polly realised she’d no wish for him to go. She wanted to get to know her father better, to find a way of helping him to overcome his problem, perhaps even one day learn to forgive him for what he’d done to her mother. Before she had time to express any of these jumbled thoughts, she heard the click of the front gate and saw Big Flo marching up the path.

She was dressed as if it were a Sunday, in her chapel black, though it was but Wednesday. On top of her frizzed grey curls was squashed a flattened pancake of straw masquerading as a hat. ‘Now then, Polly. Mind what thee gets up to in that den of iniquity. Full of wicked sailors is Liverpool.’