Polly's Pride

by Freda Lightfoot

  Murdoch was still talking, speech slurred and well-nigh incoherent, but louder in consequence as if to compensate. ‘Aren’t I your bleshed father? A man you should honour. Don’t you forget that shmall fact, Mary Ann. I’ve had a hard life, to be shure, but I’ve allus done me best by you.’

  ‘You’ve never given a thought to anyone but yourself.’

  He wagged a finger furiously at her, inches from her face. ‘I’m here to stay and there’s not a damned thing you can do about it.’

  Charlie arrived an hour later to find Polly weeping over her wrecked kitchen. Realising what had occurred, his heart filled with pity for her. He longed to put all her problems right, to make her life sweet and fresh and new. Surely he could do that for her.

  On seeing Charlie she began to storm and rage, to tell him what he could plainly see with his own eyes. He waited till she ran out of breath then said in his quietest voice, ‘I want to look after you, Polly. To be a part of this family. Isn’t it time we set a date?’

  Looking into his sorrowful face, all the despair and temper drained out of her and Polly wrapped her arms about him, resting her head against his chest.

  ‘Aw, you see how the old drunken sot has come between us already.’

  ‘We could be wed in three weeks or so, if you’ve a mind. Wouldn’t that be grand?’

  Sadly, the presence of her father had only confirmed Polly’s determination to set her own life in order first. She pulled away from him, and struggled to explain some of this to Charlie. ‘Sure and I’d marry you tomorrow, m’darlin’, but besides not wanting to land you with the problem of Da, I must give me children time to get used to the idea, used to a life free from Joshua breathing down their necks. Lucy will be able to invite her young man home for tea, which is how things should be done. Benny can begin to feel strong and secure again. He’s thrilled to have a bit of a job at the warehouse, but before you know it he’ll be leaving school, then he’ll find himself proper work and a young lady I shouldn’t wonder, and I’ll have lost him.’

  Charlie looked startled, as well he might by this catalogue of events still some time in the future. ‘What has all of that to do with us?’

  ‘Don’t we need time to get to know each other a bit better first?’ Can you not understand that? Just let me get rid of the old man, and me children established, and then I’ll put it to them about you and me.’

  ‘They’re not daft, either of them. They know we mean to wed. And I don’t mind about your da, really I don’t. He’ll no doubt take himself off one morning as suddenly as he came.’

  ‘I wish I could believe that.’ Charlie saw again the dark clouds gathering in her greeny-grey eyes at the very notion of Murdoch’s becoming a permanent fixture.

  ‘We can’t keep letting other people dictate our lives for us, Polly. I want you for my wife.’

  But she refused to discuss the matter further. She felt too tired from the disturbed nights of hearing her father come home the worse for drink; exhausted from lying awake worrying about her future with him; worrying over Joshua; the commitments she had taken on; even the children. So instead she simply kissed Charlie in an absent-minded fashion, to cheer him even as she gave her refusal. ‘And so I will be. Just give me a wee while to sort this whole mess out.’

  The kiss didn’t seem to have done its work for he was frowning down at her, looking disappointed and hurt. Then he voiced the worry that had niggled at the back of his mind for weeks. ‘Don’t you think it mighty odd that Murdoch should appear so unexpectedly, out of the blue like that? How d’you reckon he found your address?’

  Polly swept up the last of the broken shards of crockery and dumped them in the bin. She was hardly listening, certainly not taking in the implications of his words. As she reached for a cloth to start cleaning the mess off her newly painted walls, she was concerned only with the agonies of daily life with her despised parent.

  ‘Don’t you see, this could all have been planned?’ Charlie persisted. ‘It’s Joshua who’s set this up. And if you let the wedding be put off, then he’ll have won.’

  For once, Polly refused to place the blame upon her brother-in-law, being far too determined to cast her own father as the villain of the piece. As she sloshed soapy water into a bucket, her words came out all tight and clipped. ‘I’ve no time for the fuss of a wedding just now. Haven’t I the warehouse to see to, as well as everything else? I’ve to work even harder to pay all this rent I’ve taken on. So will you stop harassing me, for pity’s sake!’

  He stepped away from her. ‘Drat your stubbornness, Polly. You’re a fool to yourself at times.’

  They both fell silent, hot and bothered by the path down which their heated words had led them. Charlie glowered and sulked; Polly, half glancing at his face, recognised the depth of his hurt and anger by the hard set of his jaw. Oh, but wasn’t it her and Matthew all over again? Why couldn’t a man ever understand that sometimes you had to trust to instinct, and hope that time would resolve matters? She felt utterly devastated, stretched to the limits of her endurance, as if she’d been put on a rack. Her life seemed to consist of walking on tightropes, desperately trying to keep everyone happy.

  And where was the hurry anyway? She felt quite secure in his love for her, certain he would wait, no matter how long. She knew that Charlie needed her, that he would always be here by her side. There really wasn’t any need for her to worry about him. But his next words challenged even this long-cherished belief.

  ‘I have to go away on a bit of business,’ he suddenly announced, voice strangely cool and distant. ‘Perhaps it’s no bad thing. It’ll give us both time to think.’

  She stared at him. ‘Think? About what?’

  ‘About us. About how important we are to each other.’

  Polly fell silent, struggling to absorb the message he was giving her and not much caring for it. ‘Where are you going exactly? What kind of business?’ Fear was closing her throat and she could hardly believe what she was hearing.

  ‘Liverpool. There’s a bloke I need to see.’

  ‘Why would you have to go to Liverpool?’ It might have been the ends of the earth.

  ‘I’ve told you, a bit of business has come my way. You don’t mind?’

  ‘Ach, why would I mind? Its no business of mine what you do.’ And she turned away, dipped the scrubbing brush in the soapy water and began to scrub.

  It was their first real quarrel and it ended with Charlie marching away and Polly bursting into tears.

  Lucy hugged herself with delight. Life was so much easier now that she wasn’t glancing over her shoulder half the time. With a home of their own, Uncle Joshua couldn’t watch her every move as he had before.

  Tom continued to take her regularly to the Picture-drome or to the Palais. Sometimes they went to Joe Taylor’s dance hall or even as far as Belle Vue. Nothing was too good for her, so far as Torn was concerned. And no longer did she have to hide the scarlet dress and shoes behind the lavatory, but was able to walk out in them bravely, knowing that although her mother would also probably disapprove, she was too absorbed in her business, and with the unexpected arrival of Murdoch, to notice what her daughter got up to.

  Lucy could meet Tom whenever and wherever she wished. There were many days when he didn’t have much money at all, and they’d have to be content with a walk by the canal or a tram ride. But it didn’t matter to Lucy, so long as they could be together. Life was sweet.

  Polly was missing Charlie more than she’d thought possible. He’d been away for two whole weeks and she couldn’t understand what was taking him so long. It frightened her that they’d parted on a quarrel. Was he staying away deliberately? Would he perhaps find himself another woman, one without the encumbrance of a drunken father and two youngsters hell-bent on growing up too fast?

  In truth, if it hadn’t been for the fact that she was kept so busy she might have felt a good deal worse. Improved relations with her mother-in-law helped and the two women would often sit and ea
t their sandwiches together at dinner time, chatting over the morning’s work and whatever the next task of the afternoon would be. Without Big Flo’s sensible, down-to-earth good humour, Polly felt she might not have survived Charlie’s absence half so well.

  ‘And how’s your dad shaping up?’ Big Flo asked. ‘Still keeping off the bottle, is he?’

  ‘He’s been sober for a whole week, which is a record so far.’

  ‘He’ll have to join our Band of Hope or the Reccabites. They’ll help keep him on the straight and narrow. Trust in the Lord, that’s what I say,’ which made Polly giggle. The thought of her father joining a non-conformist temperance organisation was beyond even her hopes.

  ‘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.