by Nancy Revell
He had beaten himself up about his lack of feelings, romantic or otherwise, for the woman he knew he had been married to for the past twenty-odd years. He had convinced himself that it wasn’t just his memory that he had lost when he’d nearly drowned in the North Atlantic, but his ability to love as well. As soon as he had seen Gloria today, though, standing next to the font with Hope in her arms, he had become overwhelmed by the most incredible surge of love.
And sat here now, holding her hand, simply touching her, he wanted to move closer to her, kiss her, feel her next to him.
As if sensing Jack’s feelings and knowing that they both now needed some time alone, Arthur pushed himself out of his armchair.
‘Well, it’s been quite an exhausting day for this old man,’ Arthur said, ‘so I think I’m gonna disappear upstairs for a little nap. Get my energy back.’
Both Gloria and Jack immediately stood up. Gloria, still cradling Hope in her arms, gave him a gentle hug. What Arthur had done for them these past few days went beyond thanks.
‘I’ll be seeing you and the bab first thing Monday morning,’ Arthur told Gloria, his eyes resting on Hope, who was still sound asleep.
He then turned to Jack and the two men shook hands vigorously as if to make up for the words neither of them were able to express.
‘I’ll pop round Crown’s next week,’ Arthur said. ‘We’ll have our bait by the quayside and have another trip down memory lane, eh?’
‘Definitely!’ Jack said, still holding the old man’s hand. ‘Definitely!’
When Arthur left the room, Gloria and Jack sat back down in their chairs by the kitchen table. There was a moment’s awkward silence. This was the first time they had been on their own together, and they were both very much aware of it. They started to speak at the same time.
‘Jack—’
‘Glor—’
‘Go on,’ Gloria insisted. ‘You go first. I feel like I’ve done enough talking for a whole week, never mind a day.’
‘I just wanted to say …’ Jack hesitated, trying to work out how to put his feelings into words. ‘I just want you to know that I mightn’t be able to remember much – if anything – of our past together, but I do have a sense of how I felt, how I do still feel for you.’
Gloria looked at him and the tears started building up behind her eyes again.
Jack moved his chair so that it was right next to Gloria. ‘Tell me more. About you. How we met – for the second time.’
Gloria could see that he was desperate for information but knew she had to keep it simple. Purposely avoiding the years she had spent with Vinnie, particularly the violence and abuse she had been subjected to, she instead kept it brief, telling Jack that she too had married and had her own family, but that her marriage, like Jack’s, had been an unhappy one and when they met again after she’d started work at Thompson’s they had fallen back in love with each other.
‘It was so strange,’ Gloria told Jack, ‘we hadn’t even spoken to each other for more than twenty years, but it was like we’d only just parted.’
‘Perhaps,’ Jack said, looking down at the life they had created, ‘neither of us really let go of the other.’
Gloria nodded thoughtfully, following Jack’s gaze and looking down at Hope sleeping soundly in her arms. She knew now that she had always carried her love for Jack in her heart, although she had forced herself to ignore its presence.
‘We both agreed that this time nothing would stop us from being together,’ Gloria said, ‘and after you left for America, Vinnie moved out and I started divorce proceedings, although obviously he doesn’t know about you and me.’
She paused for a moment. ‘I haven’t told him about Hope yet either. Only those you met at the christening know the truth. Everyone else has presumed that Vinnie is Hope’s dad and I’ve just let them think that.’
Jack sat for a moment, digesting what he had been told.
‘There’s so much I want to ask you,’ he said, ‘that I want to know … But, more than anything I just want to hold you in my arms. Would that be all right?’
‘Oh, Jack,’ Gloria said, blinking away tears, ‘that would be more than all right.’
And so Jack put his arms around the woman he could not remember loving, but whom he knew he loved all the same.
And as he did so, Gloria rested her tired head on the man she thought she had lost. A man she knew she was going to have to say goodbye to again, but whom she now had hope that she could soon be with for ever.
Just like she had always dreamed they would be as youngsters.
Chapter Three
‘Hello there, Stan!’
Polly shouted out her greeting to the old ferryman she had come to know well this past year and a half since starting work at Thompson’s.
Polly travelled on the old screw steamer to and from work every day, and as Stan rarely took a day off, it was unsurprising that the two had become friendly. They’d become closer still since Polly had learnt that Stan knew Tommy well and had been giving him a free pass on the ferries since he was knee-high.
‘I’ve got a present for you!’ Polly raised her voice to be heard over the sea of flat caps as Stan, who she noticed was getting unsteady on his feet, weaved his way through the surge of passengers piling on-board.
When he reached her, Polly stretched out her hand, which was holding a large triangle of cake that had been carefully wrapped up in greaseproof paper and tied with a piece of string.
‘It’s from Hope’s christening – you know, Gloria’s baby?’
Stan’s face immediately lit up. He had been guiding the ferry across the river the day Hope was born and she’d taken her maiden voyage on this very boat when she was just hours old. Stan had been one of the first people to clap eyes on the miracle of life born at the exact same time that others had lost theirs during the air raid attack just half a mile away.
‘Cake!’ Stan declared. ‘Cor, ’n a greet big slice by the looks of it!’
Polly laughed.
‘Well, it was quite a large cake, and there was some left begging that I thought you might like.’
‘Ta, pet. That’s really kind o’ yer.’ Stan held the parcelled-up cake as though it was precious treasure.
‘I’m guessing yer not gannin’ across the river to do any overtime.’ He nodded down at Polly’s tweed skirt peeking through her best coat, and the flat leather shoes she was wearing instead of her normal boots.
‘No,’ Polly said, grabbing hold of the side of the boat as a passing ship heading back out to sea caused a large wave that made the ferry seesaw. ‘Just running an errand to Crown’s.’
Polly had suggested to Jack and Gloria that it might be a good idea if she went to Crown’s and told them that Jack wouldn’t be back at work today. They’d all agreed it would be best for Polly to keep the reason for his no-show as vague as possible so as to avoid having to tell an outright lie.
‘Any more news from that fiancé of yours?’ Stan asked. It was a question he never failed to ask, and Polly never got tired of answering. Speaking about Tommy to those who knew him seemed to keep alive her hopes and dreams that he would return to her one day when this damnable war was won.
‘I’m waiting for a letter. He will have got mine last week, so I should be getting one back soon.’ As Polly spoke she subconsciously touched her ruby engagement ring.
Once the ferry bumped onto the quayside on the north side and everyone piled off, Polly waved her goodbyes to Stan and made her way up the embankment, past Thompson’s and on to Jackie Crown’s. The yards stood shoulder to shoulder and looked out across the wide, winding expanse of the River Wear.
Polly was relieved she didn’t have the added worry of seeing Helen, who had been off work while her father convalesced. They’d heard she’d gone on a short break to see relatives in Scotland, but would be back at work on Monday – news that had caused all the women to groan. They’d groaned even more loudly when they’d heard she was to continue as yard m
anager. The position had only been given to her as a temporary measure while Jack was in America, but after Miriam had put a stopper on Jack’s return to Thompson’s it had looked likely that Helen would be given the position permanently.
After Polly slipped unnoticed past the timekeeper’s cabin at the side of the Crown’s entrance, she started walking across the yard, ignoring the wolf whistles from the men working overtime this Saturday afternoon. About a hundred yards away from the main admin building, though, she stopped dead in her tracks. The Vivien Leigh lookalike now sashaying across the yard towards her in impossibly high heels, and clearly enjoying the catcalls from the older workers, was none other than Helen.
What the hell was she doing here?
Polly’s initial reaction was to turn and run back out of the yard, but she knew she couldn’t. Helen had her eyes trained on her and was plainly determined to speak.
‘My, what a surprise to see you here.’ Helen’s wide smile belied the condescension dripping from her voice.
Polly and Helen had barely exchanged two words in all the time they had known one another, yet they knew just about everything about each other. They had been love rivals, after all. And it was hard to know who hated the other the most. At a push, it would probably be Helen. After all, Tommy had chosen Polly, not her.
‘And you too!’ Polly replied, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.
Helen let out a shot of laughter.
‘Well, you’re obviously not here to work.’ Helen looked Polly up and down. She had to stop herself sneering at Polly’s old winter coat, and what looked like a hand-me-down tweed skirt. And those flat, brown leather shoes! Could she have found a more hideous pair?
‘No, no, I’m not … you’re right.’ Polly tried to stop herself stuttering. ‘I mean, you’re right, Helen, I’m not here to work. As you know, I work at Thompson’s …’ She paused before quickly adding, ‘Which is where I thought you also worked?’
Helen stared daggers at Polly, not gracing her question with a reply.
‘And,’ Polly rushed on, her mind working nineteen to the dozen, ‘I didn’t think you were back at work until Monday?’
‘I’m not!’ Helen snapped back. Looking at Polly, she was still at a loss to know what it was that Tommy saw in her. What did this plain Jane from the east end have that she didn’t? She could feel the jealousy rising quickly to the surface.
‘I’ve actually come to see my father,’ Helen said, ‘but he doesn’t appear to be here.’
Polly started to move as if she was eager to get on her way.
‘Well then?’ Helen demanded. ‘Why are you here, Polly? Got yourself a new bloke? What with Tommy being away. Out of sight, out of mind, is it?’
Polly felt her hackles rise. Helen would love that. She wouldn’t even put it past her to spread a rumour, like she had before when she’d tried to split her and Tommy up.
‘No, Helen, I’m not here to see some other bloke. As you well know, I’m engaged to be married.’
Helen’s eyes automatically dropped to Polly’s left hand and she felt a burst of anger when she saw the engagement ring.
‘So why are you here, Polly?’ Helen demanded. ‘You know you’re not supposed to be in the yard without proper authority.’
Now Polly was cornered. She had to say something. And quickly. Why was she such a hopeless liar?
‘Actually, it’s about Jack,’ Polly said. ‘I’ve been asked to pass on a message.’
Helen stared at her. ‘It’s Mr Crawford to you,’ she said, her steely gaze now fixed on Polly’s face. ‘So?’ She paused, waiting for an answer. ‘What’s the message, Polly? I am his daughter after all. I shall pass on the message myself.’
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ Polly stalled. ‘Well, it was just to say that he won’t be in for the rest of the day. Something’s come up.’
Now go! a voice in Polly’s head ordered.
‘Oh gosh, is that the time?’ Polly raised her eyes to the huge clock at the front of the main offices. ‘Must dash!’
And with that Polly turned on her heels and hurried off. She had to stop herself breaking into a run and hurdling some of the huge chains that were curled up like snakes in the middle of the yard.
Watching Polly’s retreat, Helen felt more than a twinge of annoyance. She had wanted to ask why her father wouldn’t be in for the rest of the day. What had come up? And why had he asked Polly, of all people, to relay the message – especially when she didn’t even work at Crown’s?
Helen turned to go back to the offices. She had actually come here to forewarn her father that her mother had organised a surprise party for him to celebrate his return. She knew her dad hated surprises, and parties.
Well, it looked like he was just going to have to deal with both when he got back from wherever he was and from whatever it was he was doing.
As Polly hurried home, she cursed her shoes, which she didn’t wear very much these days and which had been rubbing against her heels. She just hoped she got there before Jack left. He needed to know this simple errand had all of a sudden become anything but. Helen was bound to question him when he got home and tell him that she had seen Polly. And Helen wasn’t stupid. She would think Polly had been acting oddly.
As Polly half walked, half jogged home, she kept thinking about Jack and Helen, and how Jack evidently had no idea how awful his daughter was. The way he had talked about her after the christening had taken them all aback. Dorothy had cheekily whispered to her that she thought there might be something wrong with her hearing – was Jack really talking about the Helen they all knew and hated?
As Polly limped the last stretch along the Borough Road, Jack was a mere hundred yards ahead of her, but after deciding to cut down Foyle Street, he disappeared from view, causing Polly to miss him by a matter of seconds.
Chapter Four
Borough Road, Sunderland
‘I love you, Rosie Thornton. You do know that, don’t you?’
Rosie’s head was resting on DS Peter Miller’s bare chest and she was luxuriating in the feel of his arms wrapped around her and the closeness of their naked bodies gently pressing together, every part touching. It was cold in her basement flat, even though she could see that the sun had come out after the storms earlier on that day, but Rosie and Peter were as warm as toast as they snuggled together under the freshly laundered sheets and heavy patchwork quilt covering the single bed.
‘I know you do, Peter,’ Rosie murmured into his chest with its sparse covering of soft dark hair.
Rosie wanted to tell him that she also loved him, but couldn’t. She had never before told any man that she loved him because she had never loved another man, but she did love Peter.
The words she wanted to say, though, seemed to get stuck in her throat, so instead Rosie raised herself up on her elbow and looked down at Peter, the man she had known for almost exactly a year, and with whom, until this morning, she had only ever held hands. She slowly lowered her head and kissed him, hoping that he would feel the love she felt for him and that it would say the words she seemed unable to speak.
After a little while, Rosie sat up, holding the bedclothes close to her, partly for reasons of modesty and partly because, having moved away from the warmth of Peter’s body, she realised just how cold it was.
‘Let me make us a nice cup of tea,’ Rosie said, relinquishing the sheets, sliding her body out of the narrow bed and walking over to get her thick cotton dressing gown hanging from a hook on the back of the bedroom door.
Peter watched Rosie’s naked body move across the room. This woman had caused him untold angst, had made him plummet to the lowest of the low, but she had also taken him to the most wondrous heights. She had fascinated him from the very first moment they had met – and still did. Probably more so.
Their love affair had – until today – been a chaste one, but all the same it had been a rollercoaster of a ride. They had met in an official capacity in November last year, but it hadn’t been u
ntil February this year – on Valentine’s Day of all days – that they had bumped into each other by the ferry landing after he’d been transferred to the Dock Police.
They had met almost every week thereafter for tea and cake, but then he had tried to kiss her, and in doing so had scared her off. She had ended their courtship and he had been bereft.
But something had nagged away at him. Something hadn’t felt right. They’d seen each other again and Rosie had agreed to meet with him, but it was only to tell him once and for all that she did not want to be with him. He’d had the gut feeling that she was lying, and he’d been proved right. She had been lying, and not just about her feelings. She had been lying about what he now knew was her ‘other life’ – running a high-class bordello in the upmarket part of town called Ashbrooke.
That had been just two weeks ago and he had been in torment ever since. It had been a choice between the law or love and he had chosen love. He had waited for Rosie to return to her flat after the christening at midday today, and when he had seen her, he had gone to her, taken her in his arms and kissed her, and his heart had soared when she’d kissed him back.
Peter sat up in the iron-framed bed and listened to Rosie as she put the kettle on and got out her china tea cups and put them on a tray. If he could stay in this moment, feeling the way he did for ever more, he would be a very happy man. He couldn’t remember ever feeling the way he did now. He knew that it was wrong to think that, almost a slight on the memory of his wife, Sal, whom he had loved very much, but theirs was a different kind of love and it had taken place in very different times.
‘Here we are.’ Rosie came back into the room, holding two cups of tea. She looked at Peter, sat up in the bed looking dishevelled, and she noticed how relaxed his face was, and how his deep blue eyes never once left her.
‘I was just thinking how, if I died at this very moment in time, I would do so being the happiest man on earth,’ he said, moving over in the bed so that Rosie could once again be by his side.
