Forgive and Forget

by Dickinson, Margaret

  Polly felt a flash of envy. How she’d love a night out at the theatre or just a walk into town without having to push the unwieldy perambulator; just a bit of time to herself to do anything she wanted would be nice. The words ‘It’s all right for some’ sprang to her lips, but she bit them back and instead forced a smile and said, ‘Have a good time. Tell us all about it when you get back.’

  As she saw them to the door, she said lightly, ‘See you again, Micky.’

  She felt his eyes on her, appraising her, and suddenly she felt uncomfortable. His glance was nothing like Leo’s – or even Roland Spicer’s. There was something unnerving about Micky Fowler’s glance and his ‘You certainly will, Polly.’

  Fourteen

  ‘So, what d’you think to Micky Fowler now, Dad?’ Polly asked when she returned to the kitchen.

  William wrinkled his brow. ‘I didn’t like the way he winked when I asked him what he did. As if I was in cahoots with him.’ He glanced at Polly. ‘And he was eyeing you up – I didn’t like that. You want to watch yourself. You’re growing up.’ For a brief moment his glance rested on her developing bosom, but he looked away swiftly. ‘Lads’ll be starting to notice you. Eh, dear me – ’ he shook his head sadly – ‘this is when I miss yar mam the most. How am I supposed to guide lasses?’

  Polly put her hand on his shoulder and said softly. ‘I know what’s what. And I’ll mek sure Violet does very soon, ’cos she’s growing up an’ all. Don’t you worry about us. It’s Eddie you need to keep an eye on.’

  ‘I thought he’d been a lot better just lately. Since he started working full-time for Mr Wilmott, he’s seemed steadier.’

  ‘Oh, he works hard and the stuff he still brings home on a Saturday night is a boon, but—’

  ‘But what lass,’ William prompted. ‘Out with it, ’cos I know you’re not one to find fault with others unless there’s a good reason.’

  Polly was thinking fast. How could she get the message across to her father without bringing Leo into it? ‘It’s just – it’s just – well – he goes out nearly every night now with his mates. We don’t know where he is or what he’s doing.’

  ‘He doesn’t sound to be getting into mischief if he’s going to the theatre.’ William smiled. ‘Very grand, I’d call that.’

  Polly eyed him sceptically. ‘If he really is going to the theatre.’

  William raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Don’t you believe him?’

  ‘There was a funny sort of look that passed between them when Micky said that’s where they were going. I just wondered if he – Micky, I mean – was showing off, like. Trying to impress.’

  William was thoughtful. ‘You could be right,’ he said slowly. ‘We’ll keep an eye on him. On both of them.’

  Polly went to bed satisfied. She’d got the seed of doubt sown in her father’s mind without revealing that Leo had given her the first warning.

  Long before Eddie came home, Polly fell asleep dreaming of the handsome young policeman in his dark uniform, his lopsided smile and his blue eyes, but her lovely dream was spoiled by Micky Fowler throwing snowballs and knocking Leo’s helmet off.

  The next time Micky Fowler knocked on their door Violet answered it.

  ‘My, my, another pretty sister,’ Polly heard Micky’s saucy greeting and pursed her lips. But she was obliged to make the boy welcome; if they were to keep an eye on him and Eddie, then they must all appear friendly and welcoming.

  ‘Come away in, Micky,’ she called. ‘I reckon you must’ve smelt me baking.’

  Bread, scones and a sponge cake lay on the table cooling. Money, though still tight, was a lot easier now both William and Eddie were earning, and just now and again Polly managed to make a special treat for the family. As he came into the kitchen, Micky’s eyes lit up.

  ‘By heck, have you made all this?’ Micky winked at her. ‘You’ll mek someone a grand wife one day.’

  Violet sidled up to him. ‘I helped. I kneaded the dough and then put it in the hearth to let it prove.’ She put her head on one side coquettishly and simpered, ‘Won’t I make someone a good wife too?’

  Micky laughed. ‘Of course you will, pretty Violet.’

  Polly bit the end of her tongue to stop it making some sharp retort. It was bad enough if he was leading her brother astray, but now watching Violet looking up at him with adoring eyes, a new anxiety crept into Polly’s heart. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to make him so welcome in their home.

  At that moment, there was wail from upstairs and Polly was obliged to leave them and go to see to the baby, though Miriam was no longer a baby really. She was almost a year old and already pulling herself up in the cot – the cot that Leo had repaired and painted.

  Polly smiled as she remembered the day – it had been whilst her father was still in hospital – that Leo had knocked on the door. She’d opened it to find him and his father carrying the cot between them.

  Amidst all the anxiety and sadness, Leo’s kind gesture had brought tears to her eyes.

  ‘We’ll put it up for you, if you like. Where d’you want it?’

  ‘In – in the bedroom – with me an’ Vi. But there’s not much room.’

  The two men had carried the pieces upstairs, moved the bed that Polly and Violet shared to one corner of the divided room and put the cot up in the other corner behind the door.

  ‘It’s wonderful,’ Polly had said gratefully. ‘Thank you so much – both of you.’

  And now Miriam was standing up in it and soon she’d be walking. How the time had flown.

  Whilst she was changing the little girl, Polly heard Eddie clatter down the stairs and the two boys leave by the front door. When she carried Miriam down, it was to find Violet still sitting at the table, a dreamy expression on her face.

  ‘Which do you want to do, Vi? Look after Miriam or put the baking away?’

  With a sigh, Violet got up and held out her arms for the child. Handing her over, Polly thought: Always opting for the easy job, is our Vi. But then she castigated herself for her uncharitable thought. It was a great help to her when someone would mind the baby whilst she got on with the household chores. But Violet was good with the little one. She never lost patience and always seemed to have Miriam smiling and gurgling happily in moments. Stevie was at school now and though Violet was still there too, she’d be twelve in the coming March and already she was fidgeting to leave and start working. She was growing up so fast; too fast, to Polly’s mind. Already the girl went into town on a Saturday with her friends – with or without Polly’s permission. And Polly’s worries over Eddie were nothing beside her anxieties for her younger sister. She wished she could talk to her father about her fears for them both, but he’d never been the easiest man to confide in. Despite her brave assertion that she’d be able to guide her younger sister, Polly still felt the need for an older woman’s counsel. Violet was going to be a handful, Polly could see that already by the way the young girl had flirted – and yes, there was no other word for it – Violet had flirted quite brazenly with Micky Fowler.

  If only their mother was still here . . .

  Mrs Halliday, Polly thought with a sudden smile. I can talk to Leo’s mam about anything. She’ll understand.

  ‘Come away in, lass, and sit yarsen down. Eee, let’s have a look at this little one,’ she added, her eyes softening as she reached to take Miriam from Polly’s arms. ‘My, she’s growing. She’ll be walking before you know it and then you’ll have your hands full.’

  ‘I reckon I’ve got my hands full now, Mrs Halliday,’ Polly blurted out, almost before she’d got into the kitchen and sat down.

  Bertha Halliday’s shrewd glance raked the young girl’s face. ‘Summat wrong, lass? Out wi’ it then.’

  Polly sighed.

  ‘Mebbe I’m making summat out of nothing, but I’m not sure I like the company our Eddie’s keeping.’ Once again, she made no reference to Leo’s warning.

  ‘Ah.’ Bertha placed a fireguard in front
of the open fire and then set Miriam down on the hearthrug where they could both watch her. She tipped some battered toy bricks onto the floor for the baby to play with.

  ‘I take it you’re talking about Micky Fowler?’

  Polly nodded.

  ‘Well, his family’s a bit rough, I grant you, and his older brother’s been in a bit of bother with the police. Oh, it’s common knowledge,’ she added swiftly, anxious not to let Polly think she was breaking any of her son’s confidences. ‘Leo doesn’t tell me about his work and I never ask. It wouldn’t do.’

  Polly hoped Bertha would think the redness in her cheeks was caused by the fire’s heat. But the woman’s words had told her just what a risk Leo had taken in warning her about Eddie and his cronies. The thought warmed her.

  ‘He’s never been in prison,’ Bertha went on. ‘The brother, I mean, but he ended up in court once and was – what do they call it? – bound over.’

  ‘So, what do you think of Micky?’

  Bertha wrinkled her forehead before answering. ‘Not much, if I’m honest. He’s a cheeky little varmint, an’ he’s already eyeing up the lasses, young though he is.’

  ‘I reckon he’s about a year older than me, isn’t he?’

  ‘He’s fifteen,’ Bertha replied promptly. ‘I know, ’cos I delivered him and I keep a diary with all the birthdays of the kiddies I’ve helped bring into the world.’ Now the older woman met Polly’s gaze. ‘It’s you I’d be more worried about than your brother. Falling for the young rascal’s charms.’

  Polly laughed aloud. ‘Oh, you’ve no need to worry about me, Mrs Halliday.’ Then her laughter died. ‘But I tell you who I am worried about. Our Violet. Her face lights up when he comes to call for Eddie and, if she knows he’s coming, she puts a clean pinafore on and a pink ribbon in her hair.’ At the mention of the ribbon, Polly was reminded of what Violet was capable of, and her anxiety deepened.

  Bertha nodded. ‘Violet’s getting to the age when she’ll start being aware of boys – I mean in a romantic way.’

  ‘But she’s so much younger than him. Too young to be thinking about – well – that sort of thing.’

  ‘Girls grow up quicker than boys.’ Bertha sighed and nodded towards her. ‘Look how you’ve had to grow up sudden, after your poor mam died. No one thinks of you as a child any more.’

  Far from making Polly feel sad because her childhood had been snatched away from her, Bertha’s words brought a warm glow to her heart.

  If only Leo would see me as a grown-up too, she thought.

  Fifteen

  In November, there was great excitement in the city when an electrified tramway replaced the old horse-drawn one.

  ‘Let’s go on the new tram, please,’ Violet begged and even quiet little Stevie looked hopeful.

  Polly shook her head, ‘We’ll go and see it, but I’ve no pennies to spare to take you on it. You can watch though.’

  Violet pouted and Stevie looked disappointed, but it was all Polly could offer. On the day the new tram was to run for the first time, Polly wrapped the children warmly and pushed Miriam in the pram with the other two walking beside her up the High Street to where the tram was to make its very first trip. The streets were crowded, the people buzzing with excitement as the dignitaries climbed aboard. The tram was bedecked with flags and bunting and crammed with as many people as it would hold. There were so many on the top deck that Polly was afraid it would topple over.

  ‘There’s Leo,’ Violet cried and began to wave.

  Two or three constables were standing near the tram, keeping order, Polly supposed.

  ‘He’s not waving back.’ Violet was disappointed.

  ‘He can’t. He’s on duty.’

  ‘He could. He could at least wave.’

  As Polly watched him, her heart beat faster. He looked so handsome in his uniform and so solemn. No cheeky grin today. Then, as the crowd moved and he saw them, he met Polly’s gaze. He didn’t smile, he didn’t wave, but very slowly and deliberately, he winked at her.

  Polly stifled a giggle and gave him a little wave in return to show that she had noticed. Then the milling crowd moved in front of her once more, blocking her view, as they surged forward when the tram began to move. A cheer went up and men and boys threw their caps in the air.

  As it moved away down the High Street, the crowd began to disperse, either to follow its route or to go home.

  ‘Come on, we’d best get home,’ Polly said.

  ‘I wish we could have ridden on it,’ Violet whined. ‘It’d’ve taken us home.’

  ‘So it would,’ Polly said brightly. ‘But unless you want to go without your dinner for the rest of the week, we can’t afford it.’

  Violet pouted but said no more.

  Miriam’s first birthday, four days before Christmas, was marked by a very quiet celebration; the day brought poignant memories back for them all. Polly baked a special cake and iced it and the family clubbed together and bought a second-hand teddy bear. It had seen better days, but the little girl loved it.

  And the first Christmas without Sarah was always going to be difficult for the whole family, but Polly was determined to make the best of it for the sake of the youngsters. Each week she saved a few pennies so that she could buy little gifts. There’d only be one each with perhaps an apple or some chocolate as a special treat in the bottom of their stockings.

  ‘D’you think Mr Wilmott will give you some veg on Saturday night as usual?’ Polly asked anxiously. Christmas Day fell on the Monday and if she hadn’t got everything she needed for the day by Saturday night, she doubted she’d find a shop open on a Sunday.

  ‘I dunno.’ Eddie shrugged. ‘He might ’ave sold out by then. He ses it’s always hectic at Christmas. Best time of the year for trade, he ses.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Polly chewed her lip.

  ‘Look, Poll, I’ll ask him—’

  ‘No, no, don’t do that. I don’t want him to think we’re beggars. We’re very grateful for all he lets you bring home every week. I don’t know where we’d’ve been without it, specially when Dad was ill.’

  ‘Union Workhouse, most likely,’ Eddie said cheerfully, but Polly shuddered. Thoughts of ending up in the workhouse overshadowed the lives of all those who struggled to make ends meet.

  But on the Friday night Eddie arrived home tottering under the weight of a box full of vegetables. Breathless, but grinning from ear to ear, he dumped it on the table with a flourish.

  ‘There’s the usual stuff that’s going off a bit, but he’s given us some good stuff an’ all. Mr Wilmott ses I’m such a good worker I deserve a bonus at Christmas. There’s even a bit of holly for you to decorate the house.’

  ‘How wonderful.’ Polly unpacked the box carefully. ‘Oh, I must call in tomorrow and thank Mr Wilmott myself.’

  ‘No, don’t do that,’ Eddie said swiftly. ‘He – it’d embarrass him.’

  ‘Would it? Because I don’t like not to say thank you for all this.’

  ‘I’ll tell him you said “Ta”.’

  ‘I hope you’ll thank him properly, Eddie,’ Polly said primly. ‘From all of us.’

  ‘Course I will. Right, where’s me tea, ’cos I’m off out?’

  Polly hurried to get it ready, anxious that her brother should be ready when Micky arrived. He seemed to be calling earlier and earlier for Eddie these days and spent the time whilst he was waiting chatting to Polly.

  Tonight was no exception and whilst Eddie washed in the back scullery, Micky sat near the fire and watched Polly clearing away the tea things.

  ‘Yar dad gone out already, has he, Poll?’

  ‘He’s not home from work yet.’

  ‘Nor’s my dad.’ He grinned. ‘It’ll be some union meeting. Big union men are my dad and yourn.’

  Polly looked up with worried eyes. ‘Is there trouble?’

  Micky grinned. ‘More’n likely if them two’s involved. It’s the only time they agree – and then not always.’

  Polly
stacked the crockery carefully and was about to carry it through to the back scullery when Micky said, ‘Poll, would you go out with me one night? Just for a walk or – or summat? We could go to the theatre, if you’d like that.’

  ‘It’s – it’s very kind of you, Micky, but I can’t leave the little ones. Violet’s not old enough to look after them.’

  ‘Wouldn’t your dad or Eddie stay in? Just one night?’ He rose and went to stand close to her. From his pocket he pulled out a sprig of mistletoe and waved it above their heads. ‘Just a little kiss, Poll. It’s nearly Christmas.’

  Polly shuddered. How she’d longed to hear these words said to her by Leo. But it wasn’t Leo saying them – it was Micky.

  ‘You’ll be lucky, Micky Fowler.’ But she forced a smile as she said the words and managed to make them sound teasing, almost as if she was playing hard to get. She didn’t want to fall out with him.

  His face fell but then he grinned and shrugged. ‘Oh well, it’s your loss. I’ve got ’em queuing up for me, y’know.’

  ‘I’m sure you have, Micky, you’re a good-looking lad. And thanks for asking me out, but I can’t. Not yet awhile.’

  ‘Then I’ll just have to keep on asking, won’t I, until you say yes.’

  After Eddie and Micky had gone, Polly sat down by the fire and let out a huge sigh of relief. She hoped that that was the end of it. But she rather feared it wouldn’t be.

  As Polly was banking down the fire that night and preparing for bed, she was still anxious, but now it was not about Micky and his advances but more about her father; he still hadn’t come home after work.

  When there was a knock at the door, her heart leapt and she flew to open it. When she saw Leo standing there she felt both a thrill of delight and stab of fear. But then she realized that he wasn’t in uniform. So this wasn’t an official visit and he was carrying a huge parcel.

  ‘H-hello,’ she stammered and felt the colour rise in her face.

  ‘Hello, Poll. Mam’s sent this down for you. Can I come in? It’s a bit heavy.’