Polly's Pride

by Freda Lightfoot

  ‘And where is it, this wondrous land where there are miles of golden sand and gorgeously coloured birds that can talk?’

  ‘Australia. I’ll take you there one day, Polly. Just you and me. It’s a long way, the other side of the world, so it’ll take us a year or two to save up.’

  ‘A year or two? I should think it will. Half a lifetime more like.’

  ‘So what’s the rush?’ he said with a quiet smile.

  He spoke as if they might well spend half a lifetime together. A faint sensation, like a butterfly’s wing, fluttered inside her and Polly felt herself blushing. ‘Don’t you play fast and loose with me, Charlie Stockton. What makes you think I’d want to travel to the other side of the world with you, or that I’d even give you the time of day tomorrow, for that matter?’ She lifted her chin in pert fashion, challenging him with her green-grey gaze.

  Charlie shook his head in admiration. ‘Don’t I just love it when you look so sparky? You know very well, Polly Pride, that you and me were meant for each other. It was fate that took you to the tram stop that day, fate that told you not to take your shawl so that I’d take pity on you and lend you my jacket. And I don’t lend it to just anyone, you can be sure of that.’

  ‘Then it’s honoured I am.’

  ‘So you should be, to be sure,’ he teased, imitating her Irish accent now.

  Then they were both laughing, and he was reaching for her hands, caressing her fingers as if he never meant to let them go. Polly felt the funny fluttering sensation change to one of a burning need, so fierce that it stunned her. But surely it wasn’t a sin to want to be loved?

  Somewhere a clock began to strike and she jumped to her feet in alarm. ‘Lord, what time is it? I must be off.’ She turned and pushed her way through the other diners to reach the door, then remembered her vow not to be bullied by Joshua ever again. She stopped dead and, turning, saw that Charlie hadn’t even moved. He was still seated at the table, one hand outstretched, palm upwards, fingers curled open as if imploring her to fill them once more with her own. Very slowly she retraced her steps, weaving her way back through the crowded cafe, sat down again and did just that.

  For a long time they sat unmoving, eyes locked in a compelling gaze, as if they could will time to stand still. At last Polly licked dry lips, struggling to find her voice. ‘I really should go. Benny will be home from school soon.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I can’t risk leaving him alone in the house with . . . I’m sorry, Charlie. I have to go. Don’t I have work to do?’ Still she made no move.

  He gripped her fingers harder. ‘And I meant every word I said. I’m not just throwing you a line, Polly. You’re very special to me, you know that. You’ll come again, won’t you?’

  And she felt her cheeks start to burn, just to feel his loving eyes upon her.

  She wanted to lean over the table and kiss him, never to stop kissing him. She wanted to feel his body pressed against hers, to experience delights she’d thought would never be hers again. Holding hands just wasn’t enough. ‘If you promise to stay away from the house, I’ll come. Because if Joshua were ever to find out about you, well, he’d. . .’

  ‘What would he do?’

  Polly shuddered. ‘I’m not sure. I just know that he must never find out. He isn’t to be trusted.’

  Charlie’s face tightened. ‘He’s not laid a finger on you, has he? Because if he has. . .’

  Common sense warned Polly against revealing the beating her brother-in-law had given her. She didn’t want Charlie to feel responsible for her safety. ‘He can make life difficult for me, and for the children. I could meet you here tomorrow. There are things I would like your advice on.’

  ‘What kind of advice.’ He’d gathered up both her hands again and Polly leaned closer, quickly outlining her plans for starting up her carpet business again, but how difficult it was to find more stock, and transport it.

  ‘So it’s only my muscle you’re after and nowt else, is that it? he teased.

  ‘That’s right. I’m looking for a bit of labour I don’t have to pay for,’ she joked right back, and they smiled into each other’s eyes.

  ‘But you won’t let this tyrant brother-in-law of yours keep us apart?’

  She shook her head, too full of emotion to speak.

  A long time later Charlie reluctantly let her go, but only after insisting she meet him again, same time, same place, the very next day.

  ‘I can’t tomorrow, it’s Sunday.’

  ‘Monday then?’

  ‘Monday it is.’ How could she refuse when she wanted him so? Finally, and reluctantly, Polly made her way home.

  That same evening, Lucy found that the dance was indeed wonderful. Everything she had dreamed of, in fact. Right from the moment of meeting Tom in the foyer, where there was a horde of other young people like themselves, and older ones too out for a good time, everything was perfect. They put their coats in the cloakroom then drifted in and out of the glittering array of shops which sold sweets and ice cream and all manner of good things. Not that Lucy had any money to spend, but just to look in the windows made her mouth water and filled her with delight.

  ‘When I’ve made my fortune,’ Tom informed her, ‘I’ll buy you the biggest box of chocolates in the place.’

  She smiled up at him. ‘I’ll look forward to that.’ And they both chuckled.

  Strains of swing music lured them up the thickly carpeted stairs which, being something of an expert on these matters by now, Lucy knew to be the finest wool, and of the very best quality. At the top was a splendid restaurant which Tom steered her quickly past, and a small snack bar into which he proudly led her. ‘I thought we’d have a coffee before we go in,’ he airily informed her, and she squeezed his arm with delight.

  ‘Ooh, Tom. This is the most wonderful night of my life!’ She could hardly breathe for the excitement of it all, nor wait to see the glories of the ballroom if the grandeur of the foyer was anything to go by.

  Lucy looked at him, eyes shining, wondering how she could have imagined he could ever have used those dirty words, let alone about her. He was lovely was Tom, and she was quite certain she was falling in love with him, praying he might soon feel the same way about her. Right now, she longed for the dance to answer all her dreams.

  The evening did indeed live up to expectations. Tom danced every dance with her, not letting her out of his sight for a moment or allowing any of the other blokes to get a look in. They danced the fox-trot and the Veleta, a dreamy waltz in which he held her especially close, and even the Gay Gordons which left her head spinning and quite robbed her of breath. Since Lucy had never been to a dance before, he had to teach her all the steps but she was a fast learner, and if she was at all uncertain she would simply cling tighter to him as he spun her round, which he didn’t seem to mind one bit.

  During the interval, when the band went off for a rest, he bought them each a glass dish of ice cream and they sat eating it on the carpeted stairs, licking up every scrap with delight. When they had finished and Tom had returned the dishes to the counter, they both sat shyly holding hands. Lucy struggled to think of something witty or funny to say to make him laugh. He wasn’t even looking at her, or smiling, but seemed to be frowning very seriously. She began to worry that something had gone wrong, Perhaps he was bored with her already, or had seen another girl he liked better. Her stomach tightened painfully at the thought.

  At length Tom spoke, addressing the toes of his polished boots. ‘There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while now, Lucy.’ He took a breath. ‘Will you be my girl? You’re the best-looking lass in the whole dance hall, and I’d really like it if you would. Will you?’ The words tumbled from out of his mouth as if he couldn’t get them out fast enough.

  Lucy was so thrilled she could hardly speak. With her own eyes fixed on her scarlet shoes, and feeling her cheeks must surely match them in colour, she nodded. ‘Of course I will, I’ve been wanting you to ask me that for
ages.’

  ‘Oh, Lucy, that’s grand.’

  They cast a sideways glance at each other then, all pink-cheeked and smiling. The broad sweep of carpeted staircase, even the ballroom, seemed tinged with rose pink to their eyes. Wasn’t this what she had dreamed of, night after lonely night?

  Grinning from ear to ear, Tom took her hand firmly in his own. ‘The band’s back. Let’s dance.’

  Oh, how she loved him! How she loved life. It was all so wonderful. Lucy also loved the feel of the scarlet dress swirling about her bare legs, and hearing the red shoes pattering on the wooden dance floor, such a welcome relief from her clomping clogs. Tom looking equally grand in a grey suit and his best boots. What a fine couple they made.

  ‘We’ll come here again,’ he announced, as if he wasn’t in the least concerned about how such treats might be afforded. ‘We’ll come regular now.’

  And as they walked home he told her all about the good job he had on the railways, how he meant to do even better in future, just in case he should happen to wed within the next year or two. Then he drew her into the shadows of the ginnel and kissed her, and Lucy discovered what it felt like to be weak with love.

  Polly kept her promise and over the following weeks met Charlie just as often as she could, for all it was never easy to escape. Big Flo grew suspicious that not all her outings were concerned with carpets. Joshua spent a great deal of his time out and about on NUWM business, even so Polly continued to take great care since he was unemployed and his movements unpredictable.

  Determined as she was to live her own life, Polly worried that if she saw Charlie at the cafe for lunch, or walked with him in the afternoon, they might accidentally run into Joshua. She was constantly glancing over her shoulder for fear he would appear, like a bad genie. It was all dreadfully nerve-wracking.

  But although she remained jumpy as a kitten, she continued to take the risk. Joshua had no rights over her. He wasn’t her husband, for God’s sake. Just to see how eagerly Charlie came to her filled her with joy.

  They snatched moments together whenever they could, always in different places so as not to run the risk of being spotted by any of Joshua’s old work colleagues either. They walked by the canal, or mingled with the crowds in the city centre, looking in shop windows on St Anne’s Square or marvelling at the glitter of jewellery in Hancock’s windows in King Street, as if they had money in their pockets to spend.

  They might catch a tram, buying a twopenny ticked from the clippie’s rack, and sit for as long as they could on the hard wooden seats, just so they could hold hands and be together. Their favourite trip was sitting on the open top deck of the Number Two to Heaton Park on a lovely sunny day, though they would scarcely have noticed had it rained.

  And all the time they talked. Charlie would describe what work he had managed to get that week: perhaps a bit of casual labour chopping and selling wood, or a few days’ work in a warehouse, or if all else failed minding his friend’s fruit and vegetable barrow. Polly would explain how she must make a success of her business in order to ensure a good future for her children. But also they talked of themselves, their feelings for each other, and of nothing in particular, as lovers do.

  The first time he kissed her, Polly thought she might die of pleasure. It was gentle and exciting all at the same time. His lips against hers were sweet and yet demanding. She knew, deep down, that she was falling in love, and why shouldn’t she? He’d made it plain he felt the same way about her.

  ‘I want us to walk out proper,’ he said. ‘Not creep about, in this hole-in-a-corner fashion, like a young lad and lass on the monkey walk.’

  She urged him to be patient, explaining how difficult her life still was, how she was constantly asked to account for her every movement. The children, of course, had to be considered too. They’d already guessed she was up to something, and Polly was anxious to put their fears at rest, carefully explaining to them that her friendship with Charlie did not mean she had forgotten Matthew.

  ‘He’ll always have a special place in my heart, as will you two. But one day won’t you both grow up and love someone else besides me? And won’t I be on me own then? So I hope you don’t mind if I look for a bit of happiness myself. We can love more than one person at a time, after all.’

  Lucy smiled and hugged her, happy for her mother. Benny looked rather worried. ‘I’d never leave you, Mam.’

  ‘Course you will, one day, when you’re a grown man and take a wife and have children of your own. It’s only right and proper.’

  He considered this for a moment, rather liking the sound of it. ‘But you’ll not leave us now, Mam, will you?’ he asked, just to be sure, and Polly wrapped him close in her arms.

  ‘Not even a bolt of lightning let alone Joshua’s evil temper, could drive me away from my precious children.’

  Her brother-in-law did appear far more agreeable nowadays. Following the showdown over money, he seemed to have accepted that Polly was starting up her business again.

  She did once hear him having something of a disagreement with Big Flo, apparently over the old woman’s helping her at the warehouse, since Polly heard her mother-in-law remark that she was too old to be dictated to, and big enough to do as she pleased. Rarely did Flo stand up to her son so Polly had felt flattered and a little puzzled by this increasing show of solidarity. But that seemed to represent a turning point. He’d made no further comments after that, except to express satisfaction she was contributing at last - as if he hadn’t been the one stopping her from getting out and about, or back to work, through all those long dreary months.

  Joshua agreed that she might visit neighbours, the local shops and market, or simply go out for a walk with her children if she’d a mind. Nevertheless he instructed Big Flo to watch her like a hawk. He wasn’t to know that his mother at once informed her daughter-in-law of this fact. For all she strove to keep a foot in each camp, she was leaning more and more in Polly’s favour.

  ‘Where you off to now?’ she would ask, adopting an aggrieved expression whenever Polly pulled on her shawl - and then she’d fasten a large pin at the neck for her, concerned she should keep warm and take good care of herself.

  ‘Just down the market, Flo. We have to eat.’

  ‘Don’t be late back, mind, or you’ll catch it,’ she’d whisper. ‘We don’t want no awkward questions, do we? Our Josh don’t have the patience Matthew had, so take care who you talk to down there, lass, or who’s watching you. There are eyes everywhere, don’t forget.’ And she’d tap the side of her large nose with one finger, giving a knowing wink as if they were conspirators with a shared secret.

  Surely, Polly thought, Big Flo didn’t know about her and Charlie, did she? Could she have guessed?

  Sometimes all this subterfuge made her feel as if she were a young girl like Lucy, who Polly guessed was secretly courting young Tom Shackleton, and not a grown woman at all. Joshua had, at first, tried to insist that she give a detailed outline of her destination and anticipated time of return.

  ‘Sweet Jesus, I’m not a child, nor one of your weavers needing to clock in and out!’ she’d said, outfacing him. ‘The hell with that.’

  ‘If you blaspheme, I’ll wash your mouth out with carbolic soap, whether you’re an adult or not,’ he’d calmly informed her.

  And looking into his cold eyes, Polly experienced a prickle of unease between her shoulder blades, fearing for a moment that he might very well carry out the threat. Even so, she refused to be confined. ‘I apologise for the language,’ she conceded. ‘Sure and you’d try the patience of a saint. Even so, I’ll come and go as I please without asking your permission, Joshua Pride.’

  Once outside the front door of number twenty-three, she’d turn in quite the opposite direction from the alleged objective of her errand and hurry straight into Charlie’s arms, wherever it was he waited. Desperate to see him, she became more reckless and daring than she knew to be quite wise, but didn’t seem able to help herself. Besides, Joshua
may be peeved by her increasing rebellion but they’d been so careful she was quite certain he didn’t suspect the truth.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Joshua guessed that something was afoot, though what exactly he couldn’t quite decide. This sudden and frequent desire to visit the market, or call on neighbours Polly had never previously bothered about, filled him with deep suspicion. It was bad enough that she had defied him over the matter of the carpets, but whenever he challenged her on the subject, she’d say she was out buying stock, or living her life, as if she surely had a right to do. In his opinion, she had no such right. She was becoming far too independent.

  Nothing, in fact, was going his way at the moment.

  The latest NUWM meeting had been a disaster as Joshua had failed to secure the post of chairman. Cal Eastwood, of all people, had been granted that honour. He’d sent his henchmen round, urging everyone to vote for him, claiming Joshua was too radical.

  This was a severe blow to Joshua’s political ambitions. He hadn’t devised all those clever money-making schemes to have some other man spend the funds and take all the glory. And having Cal Eastwood as chairman would badly affect his ability to take what Joshua considered proper recompense for the services he rendered as treasurer. Pilfered money had become a vital part of Joshua’s income. But Cal wasn’t one to miss a trick.

  ‘Don’t feel badly. You’ll happen be lucky next year,’ the victor had magnanimously consoled him, before going with his mates to celebrate over a pint or two in the Gaping Goose. Joshua declined an invitation to join them. Next year seemed a long way off. Who knew what state the organisation, or the country, would be in by then?

  So far as Joshua was concerned, the NUWM seemed to be losing its edge. It had not allowed him to make any significant mark on the public consciousness. Most of the newspapers, local and national alike, had refused to write about it in any positive way. The greatest public sympathy had been won by the hunger marchers of Jarrow, who had no connection with the NUWM at all, were non-political, and as a result had received the best publicity.