A Mother’s Sacrifice

by Kitty Neale

  ‘An … ac–accident?’ Johnnie stammered.

  ‘Yes, it was some sort of explosion, gas I think, and it killed her and Frank. Awful business, they were such a nice couple, what a waste. I’m so sorry to be the bearer of bad news.’

  ‘Right, thanks,’ Johnnie managed to say but he felt sick inside as he walked up the small street where his mother had lived. If only Helen had told him the truth earlier. Now it was too late and he would never meet his mother. He felt sad, but then questioned his feelings, wondering why he was so upset about losing someone he had never met. It was the thought of having a mother – a mother’s love, something he had never known.

  He wasn’t looking forward to telling Helen, who would probably be devastated. His mind was in a whirl of conflicting emotions and he couldn’t face going straight back home to London, not without a couple of stiff drinks first to calm his fractured nerves.

  He wandered aimlessly through the small village, hoping that he would come across a pub or at least an off-licence. He could have kicked himself for not questioning the old woman further but the shock of the news of his mother’s death had been enough to take in. He wondered where she was buried or if he had any other long-lost relatives that had attended her funeral. He would never know and supposed it was water under the bridge now, but it didn’t stop him pondering the possibilities.

  He turned a corner and spotted on the other side of the road a whitewashed building with a thatched roof. A hanging sign read ‘The Oak and Ivy’. Relieved to have found a watering hole, Johnnie darted across the quiet street, eager to get a brandy down his neck.

  Just as he stepped off the pavement, he heard a shrill scream and turned in the nick of time to see a young woman on a push bike hurtling towards him. With only seconds to spare before she would collide with him, the woman sharply swerved her bike to the left, narrowly missing Johnnie. He watched in dismay as the back wheel of the bike skidded around to the front, causing the woman to unceremoniously lose her balance and tumble to the ground, leaving the bike lying a couple of feet away from her.

  Johnnie dashed over to check if the woman had been injured but she was already getting to her feet.

  ‘You stupid idiot!’ she exclaimed as she brushed her trousers down. ‘You walked out in front of me without looking to see if the road was clear. Don’t you know how to cross a road?’

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ Johnnie replied. ‘I should join The Tufty Club,’ he added with a smile, hoping that a bit of humour would soften her annoyance at him.

  ‘Yes, you should. A five-year-old would have more road sense than you.’ She took a couple of deep breaths, seeming to relax a little as she looked at him. ‘Oh, well, no harm done,’ she said at last. ‘Just look where you’re going in future.’

  Johnnie was pleased that the woman appeared to have calmed down and was unhurt. Her strikingly pretty looks hadn’t gone unnoticed by him and he wondered if he could use the situation to his advantage. As he helped her lift her bike from the ground, he decided to chance his luck.

  ‘I really am sorry for being so careless. I was on my way to that pub over there. Would you join me and let me buy you a drink to say sorry?’

  The woman hesitated before answering, ‘That’s very kind of you but I’m just on my lunch break and was actually popping home for a bite to eat. Thanks all the same.’

  ‘Well, I’m guessing they do food in the pub so will you allow me to buy you lunch?’ Johnnie asked, undeterred.

  ‘Thanks, but there’s really no need to.’

  ‘But I’d like to,’ Johnnie answered quickly.

  There was a short pause, then she said, ‘Thanks, I’d like that, but we’ll go halves.’

  ‘No way, a gent always picks up the tab,’ he insisted.

  ‘Oh, so you’re a gentleman, are you?’

  ‘Too right I am,’ Johnnie said, taking her arm as they crossed the road. ‘I’m Johnnie, by the way, nice to meet you.’

  ‘Hello, Johnnie, I’m Polly. You’re not from round here, are you? I haven’t seen you in these parts before.’ She was very pleasant and he thought he could detect a slight trace of a London accent, but maybe as this was Kent it was a local dialect.

  ‘No, I came up from London on the train to visit an old friend but they’ve moved on so I’ve found myself a bit stranded. Lucky I bumped into you, literally,’ Johnnie said with a laugh. Not wanting to go into detail about his mother, he had lied about the ‘friend’. Since running into this pretty lady, all thoughts about his mother’s death were rapidly fading …

  Polly was warmly greeted by the pub landlord and the few customers in the bar, but all eyes were on the good-looking stranger who sat with her.

  ‘Ignore them,’ Polly said quietly to Johnnie. ‘They don’t know you so they’re just curious.’

  ‘Have you always lived in this village?’

  ‘Yes, all my life until recently. I lived in Croydon for a while, but it didn’t work out so I came back here a couple of weeks ago.’ Polly hoped that Johnnie wouldn’t press her on why it hadn’t worked out in Croydon as it was something she would much rather not talk about. It broke her heart to think about Katy, still on remand and awaiting trial, and a part of her dreaded having to appear in court. After what had happened with the Purvis brothers she was still nervous of men and had almost refused Johnnie’s offer to join him, but there was something about him that made her feel safe.

  ‘I live in Battersea and Croydon isn’t that far away,’ Johnnie said, breaking into her thoughts. ‘You must find it a lot quieter here – it’s such a small village. What do you find to do when you’re not at work? And what do you actually do for work?’

  ‘I work in the garden centre just outside the village and when I’m not there I read, watch the telly, and at weekends, weather permitting, I like to look after my own garden. I realise that probably sounds boring to a sophisticated Londoner but it suits me just fine. I like a quiet life and the easy pace,’ Polly told him. After what she had been through, it was true.

  ‘It doesn’t sound boring to me. It sounds idyllic, and I wouldn’t mind a bit of peace and quiet. London is all right, but I’ve never seen a place like this before and it’s a bit of an eye-opener … I love it!’

  Polly liked the twinkle in Johnnie’s eye and was surprised to find herself so relaxed in his company. She realised she didn’t want their lunch to end.

  ‘I expect you’ll be heading back to London soon,’ she said, fearing that she might never see him again.

  Johnnie glanced up at the big clock on the wall. ‘Blimey, is that the time already? I suppose I should, and you’ll be needing to get back to work. Time flies when you’re having fun. Polly, I would love to see you again. Do you want to meet up when you’ve finished work? If I can find a bed locally for the night, I can make my way back to London tomorrow.’

  Polly hadn’t been expecting him to be quite so forthright and felt her cheeks flush. For a fleeting moment she considered offering him a room at hers but then decided against such a reckless idea. She had only just met him and for all she knew he could be another rapist, and she wasn’t going to risk being alone with him.

  ‘They do rooms here, with breakfast,’ she said, ‘so have a word with the landlord. It would be lovely to see you again.’

  Johnnie went to the bar, paid for their meal and came back to the table flashing a wide smile. ‘That’s me sorted for the night, and as it’s Sunday tomorrow, do you fancy spending a day in the country with a stranded Londoner? Or would having to put up with me for dinner tonight and a day of it tomorrow be too much for you?’

  Polly had hoped that this meal with Johnnie wouldn’t be their last but felt a surge of disappointment as she realised she already had commitments for later.

  ‘I like that idea but I’ve just remembered that I’ve promised my boss that I’ll work late tonight. We’ve had a big delivery that needs sorting out and there’s loads of repotting to do. I’m so sorry, Johnnie, but tomorrow I’ll make us
a picnic,’ she offered, ‘and I know just the place to take you. If you can ride a push bike you can use my dad’s.’

  ‘Of course I can, though as I ain’t been on a bike since I was a kid I might be a bit rusty. And don’t worry about this evening, I understand. I’ll waste my time in here tonight, no big deal.’

  For the first time in ages, Polly felt a rush of happiness. It would be lovely to spend a day in the countryside with this good-looking man, and somehow she felt that she could almost trust him.

  With plans for the next day finalised, Johnnie walked Polly to her bike, which she’d left leaning against a wall outside. As she mounted it, Polly turned to look up at him and found that he reminded her of someone, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on who it was. Her eyes lingered on his mouth and, unexpectedly, she found herself hoping that he would kiss her goodbye, even though she had only just met him.

  ‘So, I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ she said as an awkward silence fell between them.

  ‘Yeah, and thanks, Polly. I had a really good time.’

  ‘Yes, me too.’

  ‘Well … see you soon then,’ Johnnie said but made no attempt to leave.

  ‘I–I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodbye,’ she said, still looking up into his face, and wishing she was brave enough to at least kiss him on the cheek.

  Johnnie suddenly put his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her towards him for a kiss, but he had misjudged slightly and his lips ended up partly on her chin. Then, just as swiftly as he had reached for her, he let her go and turned to run back into the pub.

  Polly had tensed, but instead of fear she found herself thinking that though Johnnie appeared worldly-wise, he’d just shown that he was far from experienced. It made her smile and any doubts about him dissipated. He was a nice young man and nothing like the Purvis brothers.

  Polly raised her eyes to the sky as she cycled along the country road. The shining sun always made her think of her parents and as she arrived at work and parked her bike, she wondered what her mum would’ve said if she was still alive to see the goodbye kiss. She smiled to herself as she imagined the scenario, the unrelenting questions she would have faced. Oh, yes, thought Polly, her mum would’ve had plenty to say if she had seen her kissing Johnnie!

  Helen flicked through the three television channels but wasn’t taken by any of the programmes, least of all Match of the Day. Saturday nights were normally pretty dull but tonight she was growing increasingly concerned about Johnnie, who had promised to come and see her as soon as he returned from his visit to Glenda. Maybe it went so well that he stayed the night there, she reasoned.

  Now that Maude had passed on, it had been such a relief to finally tell Johnnie the truth about his mother, though despite Johnnie’s reassurances she was still petrified that Harry would find out. Still, at least Johnnie would get to know his mother now, and better late than never.

  She could just imagine Glenda’s face when she opened the door to find Johnnie standing there. It would have been a very emotional meeting for them both and she couldn’t wait to hear all about it. Helen glanced at the clock, and seeing that it was now past ten she doubted Johnnie would be back tonight. With a sigh she gave up on the television, made herself a cup of Horlicks and climbed under her pale-green candlewick bedspread, intent on finishing her latest historical novel, Cousin Kate.

  As Helen tried to read, to lose herself in a different world for a while, memories of 1947 kept swimming around in her head and most of them were not good. Harry had been the cause of so much upset in those days and the catalyst for Glenda’s departure from Battersea. Not to mention the reason for Betty Howard’s death. Although Maude had told her that Harry was a different man now, Helen still despised him and felt no pity for his lonely existence. She wondered what had become of Billy Myers, the man who had tried to blackmail her, and the one who had told Harry about Glenda’s affair, something she could never understand, especially as Frank was his own flesh and blood. She had despised Billy Myers too, and though it had all happened so many years ago, the memories remained.

  Helen put her book down to switch off the bedside lamp in the hope that she would succumb to sleep and not be plagued all night by Harry Jenkins and Billy Myers, yet no sooner had she closed her eyes than the occupants above her on the twelfth floor began to blare out ‘Jumping Jack Flash’. She wouldn’t have minded so much if they were playing the Beatles or Tom Jones, but she couldn’t stand the Rolling Stones.

  The sun shining through the curtains woke Johnnie from his slumber. As he opened his eyes it took him a short while to fathom where he was. He was tired after being awake for much of the night, first thinking about his mother, then fantasising about Polly. He was overwhelmingly attracted to her and her gorgeous figure. He could only hope that she felt the same way too.

  Johnnie groaned and threw back the covers. He had kissed her, a fumbled, embarrassing kiss, but a kiss all the same. He’d have to try to do better today.

  As he started to get dressed, Johnnie thought about the events of the previous day. His mind was a mess, full of conflicting thoughts and feelings. This wasn’t supposed to have happened. On the train from London, he’d imagined his mother opening the front door and instantly recognising him before taking him into her arms and then excitedly introducing him to Frank. Finding out she was dead had been such a shock. It had thrown him off kilter, but then meeting Polly so quickly felt a bit like fate, and she had cheered him up no end. He couldn’t wait to see her.

  A loud knock on his door made him jump and a voice called, ‘Breakfast is ready, Sir.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Johnnie called back, ‘I’ll be down in a tick.’

  The thought of breakfast turned his stomach after the amount of ale he’d consumed last night, but the anticipation of seeing Polly, her picnic and those deep-brown irresistible eyes was more than enough to drag him down the stairs.

  It was only five past nine and Polly’s excitement was already growing even though it would be another two hours before she would go to meet Johnnie.

  By eleven the housework was done, the picnic packed, the bikes oiled and leaning against the shed ready for the off. Polly couldn’t quite believe that she was so eager to see Johnnie. Since she’d been raped, she hadn’t expected to ever want a man to touch her again, but she felt drawn to Johnnie and spent most of the night tossing and turning as she imagined him holding and kissing her.

  She’d taken extra care when getting herself ready for their date, but didn’t want to look like she’d tried too hard so had chosen pink Capri trousers and an off-the-shoulder white lace top. By the time she had to leave, Polly felt like a headless chicken as she ran around the bedroom, not knowing what she was looking for but flapping about all the same. Pull yourself together, she thought, and drew in a deep breath before checking herself in the mirror for the umpteenth time.

  She placed the picnic in a basket on the front of her bicycle and set off for the Oak and Ivy, wheeling both her own bike and her dad’s, one on either side of her. She knew she could have let Johnnie come to her house and pick her up, but though she felt drawn to him, she was still being cautious and wanted to hold back from showing him where she lived. It was unlikely that he was a rapist and she knew she was probably worrying over nothing, but she had spent less than an hour with him and reasoned that it was better to be safe than sorry.

  With her heartbeat quickening she rounded the corner and was delighted to see Johnnie waiting outside for her. ‘Hi, Johnnie, right on time,’ she said, hoping that she sounded casual though her heart was now beating so fast that she could hardly catch her breath.

  ‘Hello again, Polly. You look really nice. Thanks for bringing the bike for me.’ The sun was behind Johnnie and shining on his thick, black hair which he wore greased back with a small quiff at the front. He was wearing the same jeans and white shirt that he had on yesterday but it looked as though the shirt had been freshly washed.

  ‘This is a great village. Do you liv
e here by yourself?’ Johnnie asked, casting his eyes over the stone cottages.

  ‘Yes, it is great and yes, I live alone now but I wish I didn’t.’

  ‘Oh, why’s that?’

  Polly hesitated, but then said, ‘My … my parents were killed … in … in an accident.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Polly said, pushing her sadness to one side. It was a lovely day, the sun was shining and she wanted to try to enjoy life again. ‘How are you getting on with my dad’s bike?’ She tried to stifle a laugh as Johnnie wobbled, obviously out of practice.

  ‘So much for the old saying, “It’s like riding a bike,”’ Johnnie said, laughing as they rode along the country lane side by side. After a little while, though, he seemed to get the hang of it. Light conversation flowed easily between them until they reached the place Polly had suggested, where there was a small lake with a weeping willow on the banks – the perfect place to lay the picnic blanket.

  ‘I used to ride out here with my mum and dad,’ said Polly, recalling the many happy times she had been here before. ‘My dad threw me in that lake more than once. It’s where I learned to swim.’

  Johnnie looked around him and then at Polly before taking her hand in his. ‘I can see this is a special place to you, so thanks for sharing it with me.’

  She looked up at him and, sensing that he was going to kiss her again, her heart quickened. This time when he dipped his head the kiss was long and tender, very different from the misjudged one of the day before. His tongue explored her mouth and aware of his mounting passion she panicked and pulled away. ‘No, don’t!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Polly, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that you’re so … so special, and different from any other girls I know.’