Polly's Pride

by Freda Lightfoot

  Polly smiled and hugged her daughter. ‘Of course it would. You are only young once and isn’t he a fine young man? But take care. Remember all that your mam has told you.’ And Lucy gigglingly agreed that she would.

  ‘You’re a good girl,’ Polly said. But how much time did she have? She wasn’t young like Lucy. It could take years to build her business and break free from Joshua’s tyranny. Would it be too late then for her to find happiness?

  As Polly pondered on these personal problems, Lucy chattered on excitedly. It was the best heart-to-heart mother and daughter had enjoyed in a long time and seemed to bring them closer together.

  All too soon reality intervened.

  ‘What about Uncle Joshua?’ Lucy asked. ‘What will he say when he realises you’ve started working again? He’s not been blind to all the activity these last few days. He’s starting giving me funny looks, asking questions about where I’m going, and why.’

  Smiles quickly faded as the two considered this in grim silence. At length Polly said, ‘We could always agree not to tell him. No, that wouldn’t be right, and I couldn’t hope to keep it a secret forever. Well, he’ll just have to lump it. He’s not in charge of my life any more. I am!’

  They ate in silence for a while, then Lucy continued with her questions. ‘Did he - did he touch you that day he had a go at our Benny? I mean, did he hit you?’

  ‘He certainly didn’t cover himself in glory, the dirty beggar. But he’ll not try it again. Nor lay another finger on either of my children,’ Polly declared, with such fierceness that Lucy had to smile. Then something began to stir deep in her memory and she struggled to get to grips with it.

  ‘Why do you call him dirty, Mam? What did he do?’

  ‘It wasn’t so much what he did, though he hurt me right enough. It was what he said. Called me by a rude word, so he did.’ Polly refused to repeat it before her lovely daughter. She could see already how distressed the child was, for she’d gone death pale. ‘Aw, don’t fret, m’cushla, we’ll get by, so we will. All we have to do is stick together.’

  ‘No, it isn’t that. Only . . . you remember that night in the barracks, when they were fumigating our house?’

  Polly frowned, not wishing to think so far back to a time when she’d had nothing at all to worry about, since her man was still alive and well. ‘I remember I made a great fuss over nothing in particular,’ she confessed.

  ‘Someone used dirty words to me that night,’ Lucy said in a quiet voice, feeling hugely relieved to have got this off her chest at last, after all this time. ‘Whoever it was called me a whore!’

  Polly stared at her daughter, appalled, as Lucy related her distress that night, how at first she’d blamed Tom, who had since convinced her of his innocence. They both realised in that same instant that not only were the words used the same but the voice too. Low and rasping, hissing in their ear.

  Polly gathered her child close in her arms. ‘May the Saints preserve us, for I’ll kill him with me own bare hands if he ever touches or says such things to you ever again.’

  And in that moment Polly knew she would need all her wits about her, and every one of her survival skills, if she was to protect not only herself but her children too.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘Where have you been?’ Joshua was standing at the door waiting when they arrived home. Polly squeezed her daughter’s hand with loving reassurance.

  ‘Say nothing and get off upstairs. I’ll give you a shout when I’ve brewed a cuppa.’

  ‘Watch him, Mam. If he tries anything. . .’ Fiercely protective of her mother since their talk, Lucy could hardly bring herself to walk through the door, let alone leave Polly alone with this monster.

  Yet there were some things Lucy had not been told. She was still unaware of how Eileen had come to be pregnant. If Polly had her way, her daughter would remain in ignorance. There were some things a young girl shouldn’t hear, one being that her uncle was a rapist. She realised there were risks in not telling her. It would mean that Polly must protect Lucy even more closely, since being in a state of ignorance she might not think to protect herself. Some decisions, made with the best of intentions, often come to be regretted later. She could only hope this wouldn’t prove to be one of them.

  Without a glance at Joshua, Polly moved over to the range and slid the kettle on to the centre of the hob over the fire. Then she turned to Big Flo who sat darning a sock, fat fingers flying.

  ‘How about a nice bowl of cheese and onion for your tea? I could boil it in a bit of milk.’ Her mother-in-law had few of her own teeth left and point blank refused to consider false ones.

  ‘Aye, that’d be grand,’ Flo agreed, casting a nervous glance in her son’s direction. Her expression implied that she knew there was something wrong. He wasn’t himself these days, all fidgety and watchful, but she couldn’t quite get to the bottom of it. Not yet. But she would, given time.

  `I’ve bought a bit of haddock for you, Joshua. Lucy and me have already eaten. We had ourselves a treat. Stopped off at Florrie’s pie shop. Sure and there’s none better in the whole of Ancoats.’

  ‘You should’ve fetched us all one,’ Big Flo protested, feeling deprived.

  ‘Indeed I should. Why didn’t I think of that? I will next time, will I not?’

  ‘Where did you find the money for pies and haddock?’ Joshua’s voice was tight and rasping. Polly had already come to dread the sound of it, but now, following her daughter’s revelation, it filled her with loathing. Some of this revealed itself in the tone of her reply.

  ‘We might be poor but I’m no pauper, Joshua. There’s plenty worse off than us. Haven’t I always said so? My clean floor should prove that if nothing else.’ And more than that she had no intention of saying. Joshua, however, was far from satisfied, and stubbornly persisted.

  ‘You must have a store of money somewhere, for I’ve given you none, and this is the third time this week you’ve fetched food home from wherever it is you’ve been spending your time recently.’ He was seriously peeved that due to the pressure of work for the cause, he’d not been able to pay proper attention to her movements lately. Now he meant to rectify that, come what may. ‘Was it left over from that stupid carpet business? Where d’you keep it?’

  Polly began to chop onions, bringing down the knife with slashing strokes. ‘Sure and I don’t know what you’re talking about. How would I have any money, after all this time?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know, but if you have some hidden, I want to know where it is. We all need food in this house, so you can share what money you have with us all.’ She was becoming increasingly obdurate, and it worried him.

  ‘Aw, you’re wanting me to pay me way now, is that it? Well, I’ll be glad to, if you stop complaining every time I set foot out of the house. I should’ve told you weeks ago, but Eileen kept some of the carpet rugs for me.’ Polly slid the onions into a small pan of milk and set it on the hob, deciding that perhaps it was time to make her position clear. ‘As a matter of fact, I’ve made up me mind to go back into business, since it’s time I pulled meself together and. . . She got no further as Joshua slammed his fist down hard upon the table.

  ‘You’ll do nothing without my permission.’

  At one time she would have flinched, even cowered. and no doubt panicked and run for another powder. Now Polly turned from the fire where she’d been stirring the onions, to look at him in feigned surprise. ‘I’m thinking that would be an odd thing for a grown woman to do. I’m perfectly well now, thanks very much, and quite able to earn me own living, even if you aren’t.’ It was a cruel taunt, but she wasn’t feeling in the least bit kindly disposed towards her brother-in-law today, perhaps never would again.

  The money Eileen had earned for her was now safely hidden where Joshua would never find it. Some of it in a special place at the warehouse, the rest secreted on her person, in her underclothes. He’d interfered with a woman’s underclothes before, she reminded herself, but he wouldn’t get w
ithin arm’s length of hers or he’d live to regret it.

  Feeling himself losing control, Joshua returned to the original point of dispute, his voice taking on a savage note. ‘Where is this money? Get it now!’

  Polly crossed her fingers and lied. ‘I’ve told you, I don’t have any. That’s why I need to work.’ It was a thin excuse, one he would surely see through since she’d plainly need capital to start up again, and she began to regret the over-optimism which had led her to buy the cheese and haddock, and tell him about the pies.

  ‘You’re lying.’ Then before she could guess his purpose, he swung on his heel, pulled open the stair door, and within seconds was upstairs, clomping across the wooden floor of the bedroom she shared with Lucy.

  ‘Dear God, the rat is going through my things!’

  ‘Nay, don’t interfere,’ Big Flo cried, holding fast to her arm and giving Polly a little shake. ‘He weren’t allus like this, you know. I don’t understand what’s got into him these days. But if thee has any brass, then I’d recommend you hand it over.’ She nodded her head so vigorously to emphasise her point that one of her curling pins came loose and bounced into the sugar basin, then simply stared at it, looking troubled.

  ‘Joshua has enough money of his own sticking to his pocket linings,’ Polly retaliated, and throwing off the restraining hands, flew up the stairs after him. She found he’d opened every drawer and was flinging her clothes, including her underclothing, all over the floor while he searched. Lucy was standing watching him, white-faced and trembling.

  A heat rose in Polly as fierce as the boiling water that even now rattled the lid of the kettle downstairs. ‘Get your filthy hands off my things!’ In a way she was almost relieved she didn’t still have the chopping knife in her hand, or she might have done something she’d might regret. But even as the temper soared in her Polly knew she was no match physically for her brother-in-law.

  His face contorted with mocking laughter. ‘And how will you stop me?’ He ripped back the bedclothes, fingering first Polly s nightdress and then Lucy’s lingeringly, a smile on his face, before casually tossing each aside. Then he upturned the mattress to examine the bare springs.

  ‘Satisfied?’ Polly felt impotent with rage, bleakly aware that he was right, there was nothing at all she could do to stop him riffling through her personal belongings.

  He came to stand beside her, his powerful presence only inches away, making him seem even more intimidating. ‘Wherever you’ve hidden it, be sure that I will find it, so it would be better if you were to volunteer the information. I think your temper has got the better of you today. You would do well to ask forgiveness in your prayers tonight.’

  ‘My temper?’

  ‘Perhaps you should recommence taking those powders? To cool your fever and restore rational behaviour.’

  ‘I am perfectly rational, and I don’t need any more powders. Let me alone, Joshua.’

  He almost spat the words into her face. ‘No one makes a fool of me, woman. I always get my way, in the end.’ Then, to her enormous relief, he strode from the room. Polly put her hands to her burning cheeks and counted slowly to ten to regain her calm, but the shaking in her limbs was so bad her legs gave way and she was obliged to sit down with a bump on the bare springs of the bed.

  ‘Are you all right, Mam?’ Lucy came to put her arms about her.

  ‘I am, m’cushla. Though I’d be a whole lot better if I could rid us of that fiend.’ She felt hot and cold all over, her palms sticky with sweat. ‘I’ll swing for him, so I will. Just give me the chance.’

  ‘Can’t we leave, Mam? Now, this minute. Can’t we go and live some place else? With your friend Charlie perhaps.’

  Polly gathered her daughter close, tears she refused to shed thickening the back of her throat. ‘I don’t even know where he lives. In lodgings somewhere. Besides, this is our problem and we must solve it ourselves, not go running to some man we hardly know.’ No matter how much I might long to do just that, she thought. More than she cared to admit.

  And then she remembered the warehouse’s landlord, and his mention of the caretaker’s flat. Perhaps it was still available or he had other property somewhere. But could she afford to pay rent on a house as well as the warehouse?

  ‘Come on, chin up. Soon as we’ve earned a bit of money, we’ll find a place so we can be together, just the three of us like we used to be. And haven’t we made a good start already, with money saved, so long as he doesn’t get his thieving hands on it.’ And mother and daughter comforted each other as best they could before restoring the room to order.

  Despite her brave words, Polly had to stifle a shudder later that evening as she handed Joshua his supper. Every time she thought of what he had done to Eileen, his cruel punishment of her own son and the dirty words he’d used on her precious innocent daughter, she wanted to scratch out his eyes. But she knew that wasn’t the way. She must tread with care, for she had her children’s welfare to think of. Look what had happened to Eileen’s four, all taken into a home. Lucy was nearly a grown woman now, but Benny wasn’t quite thirteen and mischievous enough to be forever getting into bother. The last thing she wanted was for a similar fate to befall him or, worse, for him to be taken to the Reformatory. And she didn’t put anything past Joshua to bring that about.

  In any case, hadn’t she made great strides already, getting the warehouse and at least some carpets to sell? Accommodation wasn’t easy to come by in this neighbourhood, and Polly refused to take her children anywhere that wasn’t clean and decent. She had standards to maintain for her family, poor or no.

  As she had feared, the caretaker’s flat had already been taken. ‘Eeh, you should’ve snapped it up while you had chance, lass.’ She was more disappointed than she could say, and bitterly regretted her own caution in the matter.

  Polly realised she would have to learn to be more decisive, to take control of herself and her life, or she would never get anywhere. But then she probably couldn’t have afforded it anyway. For the moment at least, she must be patient.

  She did what she could by asking around locally, in case there was anything suitable. She even visited the Corporation offices to enquire about the new slum clearance scheme she’d heard of, where they were sending families to live out at Wythenshaw, a garden suburb which was the pride and joy of the city. The clerk laboriously took down her particulars and helped her fill out all the necessary forms, but gave no indication of when a house may come available, if at all.

  Polly turned with renewed attention to her work, for that was her best route to escape. Finding new stock must be her priority. They were running desperately low, and without carpets she had no income, and without income, her freedom would evaporate almost as quickly as she had won it.

  As for Charlie, he must remain a dream. He’d only come looking for her because he was a kind man concerned for her well-being. It didn’t mean anything more than that, and she’d been foolish to think any different, or to go looking for him. At least he’d kept away since, as per her instructions. She’d probably never set eyes on him again.

  The next few months were difficult. Polly spent hours trekking round with her hand cart, knocking on doors and asking if anyone had any old carpets to sell. Unfortunately nobody had and, once she had sold all her remaining pieces, the warehouse would be empty. This was a severe disappointment, for if she couldn’t make a go of her business, then her money would soon disappear and she’d have no means of earning any more, which meant no hope of escape from her brother-in-law.

  There must be a solution somewhere, she thought, very near to panic. Perhaps she was looking in the wrong places. Perhaps she should try Victoria Park, Ellesmere Park or over towards Wilmslow. But if she travelled too far, how could she possibly transport the rolls of carpet on the hand cart all the way back to Ancoats?

  Christmas came and went and Polly felt trapped and frustrated, close to despair, and all the time a small voice was telling her to find Charlie again and ask fo
r his help, yet stubbornly she resisted. She wanted to prove herself first.

  And then she remembered she had one asset she hadn’t yet considered. Her son.

  Benny was bearing his own problems in stoical silence. He was delighted to see that his mam was more herself, but his situation hadn’t improved one bit. He hated sleeping under the stairs, with only an old greatcoat and thin blanket to keep him warm. It wasn’t that he’d enjoyed sharing a room with his sister, or needed her comfort, for he was almost thirteen now and very nearly a man, but his candle cast funny shadows on the walls of his cubby-hole. He told himself they were only homely things, like the flat iron, the bread bin or the clothes-horse, but sometimes the black shapes on the wall looked more like a man’s dismembered head, the sort of thing shown each week in the Illustrated Police Gazette, or even the bars of a cage. He hated it. But he hated his uncle more.

  If Uncle Josh and Gran hadn’t moved in, he’d have a room of his own now and be the man of the house, which was what his dad would have wanted.

  In addition, Georgie Eastwood was continuing to make his life a misery. The episode of the torn jacket had been the last in a long line of taunts and tricks that Georgie played on him at every opportunity. He waited for Benny to come out of the school playground, then he and his gang would follow him home, or they would jump out at him from some ginnel or back entry. No longer at school, nor with any sort of a job, Georgie had to amuse himself somehow. Benny was the butt of his humour.

  But the last thing Benny wanted was for his mother to start fighting his corner for him, as if he were an infant who couldn’t stand up for himself. Nor did he want her to see the bruises on his body, left there by the many punches Georgie and his gang flung at him.

  Now, when Polly came to him, he was anxious to help. Anything to help them break free from his uncle’s authority. Yes, he agreed, of course he remembered the old cinema that he’d overheard the women talking about. Whether it would still have its carpet was another matter, but he’d certainly go with her to look.