Forgive and Forget

by Dickinson, Margaret

  There was a pause before Polly couldn’t help asking, ‘So where’s he working now then, if you know so much?’

  ‘In the market. With me. We both work for a bloke called Vince Norton. He runs one or two stalls on the market.’

  ‘Not Ida Norton’s husband?’ Ida Norton worked at the glue factory; Polly knew her from the time she’d worked there. She couldn’t stand the woman; Ida was a spiteful cow and a telltale to the management. She’d tried to wheedle her way into Roland Spicer’s good books, but, credit due to him, he’d seen right through her tactics. The other workers universally disliked her and it was rumoured that her husband – a market trader – wasn’t above bending the law to his advantage. A lot of shady deals went on behind the scenes, according to the other women.

  ‘Don’t buy owt from his stall, Polly lass,’ her friend at the glue factory, Nelly Rawdon, had warned. ‘You don’t know where it’s come from.’ Nelly, a big, jolly woman, had befriended the young girl on her first day at work and had told her many a titbit of gossip. But there was no malice in Nelly; she always ‘told the truth and shamed the Devil’, as she said herself.

  Polly felt her heart plummet. If it was true that he was now working for Vince Norton, there was no knowing what trouble Eddie might get himself into.

  And, she thought, just as Micky had gleefully predicted, Leo wouldn’t want to be associated with such a family.

  Polly worried through the night and, as dawn filtered through the thin curtains, she made up her mind to visit Mr Wilmott and find out exactly what had happened.

  Although Miriam, at just over eighteen months old, was walking well, she couldn’t manage long distances and the greengrocer’s was too far for the toddler to manage. So when she’d taken Stevie across the High Street to school, Polly set off with the perambulator in the opposite direction.

  ‘Morning, miss, what can I get you this fine morning?’

  Polly had never had occasion to meet Mr Wilmott in person, always relying on Eddie to bring home whatever they needed – or had been able to afford – in the way of vegetables and fruit.

  Now, facing the tall, thin man, who was peering at her benignly over steel-rimmed spectacles, she licked her lips nervously. She glanced around to make sure there were no other customers to overhear what she had to ask. ‘Mr Wilmott, I – I’m Polly Longden, Eddie’s sister.’

  The smile faded from Mr Wilmott’s face. ‘Ah.’

  ‘Is it true?’ Polly blurted out, her sleepless night making her rash. All her carefully rehearsed questions flew out of her head.

  The man sighed. ‘I don’t know what he’s told you.’

  ‘He’s told me nowt. I didn’t even know Eddie wasn’t still working here until Micky Fowler told me last night that – that you’d sacked him.’

  Softly, Mr Wilmott asked, ‘And did young Micky tell you why?’

  Mutely, Polly nodded, tears springing to her eyes as the last vestige of hope died. Oh, Eddie, Eddie, she was crying inside. Haven’t we had enough trouble in our family without something like this?

  Mr Wilmott sighed heavily. ‘I didn’t want to do it, lass, and I didn’t want to mek trouble for him. I just said I thought it’d be better if he found somewhere else to work. But I did warn him that he should keep his nose clean in future. Other employers might not be so lenient.’

  ‘What – what exactly did he do? Did he take money?’

  ‘No. Just fruit and veg.’

  ‘I see. So you didn’t ever give him stuff that was going off on a Saturday night, then?’

  ‘Oh yes, that. Yes, I did, but then I noticed he was taking the good stuff. And I never gave him that. I can’t afford to, lass. Only wish I could.’

  ‘So – so you didn’t give him some extra at Christmas as a – a bonus?’

  ‘Is that what he told you?’

  Dumbly, she nodded and her reply elicited another sigh from Mr Wilmott as he said heavily, ‘That’s when I noticed that some of the good stuff was going an’ all. After that, I kept an eye on him and, yes, I’m afraid he was taking things he shouldn’t have.’

  ‘I knew he was bringing some good veg and that home, but I thought he was paying for it. If I’d thought for one moment . . .’ She stopped and bit down on her lip to stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks.

  ‘Aw, lass, don’t upset yarsen. It’s done with now and by what I hear he’s working on the market, so he’s all right. There’s some good fellers on the market. Straight as a die, most of ’em are. They’ll keep him in line.’

  ‘Will they, Mr Wilmott?’ Polly said grimly. ‘Even Vince Norton? Will he “keep him in line”?’

  Mr Wilmott blinked behind his spectacles. ‘Is that who he’s working for?’

  When Polly nodded, all he said was, ‘Oh dear.’

  Twenty

  As she walked home, Polly pondered what she could do about Eddie. She didn’t want their father to know and she certainly didn’t want Leo to find out, but she knew she had to make Eddie aware that she knew.

  ‘But Dad’ll have to know Eddie’s working at the market now,’ she murmured.

  Miriam, hearing her soft voice, gurgled and smiled beatifically at her. ‘Oh, Baby, what would I do without you and little Stevie?’

  When she arrived home, Polly picked the little girl up from the pram and gave her an extra special hug and that afternoon she had a special treat for Stevie when she met him from school.

  ‘A whole bar of chocolate just for me?’ he asked with wide eyes.

  She ruffled his hair. ‘You’re a good boy, Stevie. Mind you always stay that way, won’t you?’

  Stevie nodded as he broke off a piece of the chocolate and put it in his mouth, but the next piece, Polly noticed, he put in Miriam’s chubby hand.

  He was such a good, kind little boy. The two younger children she cared for never gave her a moment’s trouble, but she couldn’t say the same for the older pair.

  To Polly’s relief, William took the news that Eddie was working in the market now with a disinterested shrug. ‘As long as he’s earning, Poll,’ was all he said. She didn’t want him to know why Eddie had left the greengrocer’s shop; she didn’t want a blazing row between father and son. But she resolved to have a quiet word with her brother when she could get him on his own sometime.

  The opportunity came the following week.

  ‘What are you doing home?’ Polly demanded when Eddie walked in, whistling jauntily, just after dinnertime.

  ‘Got the afternoon off.’

  ‘Oh aye, and what does Mr Wilmott say about you taking time off work in the middle of the week, eh?’

  Eddie frowned at her and she returned his gaze steadily.

  ‘I – don’t work for him any more,’ he said glancing away.

  ‘I know that,’ she snapped. ‘And I know why.’

  Eddie’s head shot up. ‘How—?’

  ‘Ne’er mind how. I just do. And I hear you’re working for Vince Norton.’

  ‘That’s right. What of it?’

  ‘He’s got a reputation, that’s “What of it?”’

  ‘He wheels and deals a bit. They all do, them market traders.’

  ‘Not like Vince Norton, they don’t. They’re straight. He’s not, from what I’ve heard.’

  Eddie shrugged. ‘Well, you heard wrong, didn’t you? He’s all right is Vince. And Micky too. He got me the job, so just you be nice to Micky. He’s more our sort than your precious copper. Run one of us in as soon as look at us, he would.’

  ‘Aye,’ Polly said. ‘And from what I’ve heard, he might have good reason.’

  ‘Oh, going to tell him, are we? Going to snitch on your own brother?’

  She stepped forward and thrust her face close to his. ‘I’m no snitch, as you put it. I’d never deliberately tell on you, Eddie. We’re family, but never, ever expect me to lie for you either, if it comes to it. Understood?’

  For a moment they glared into each other’s eyes in a battle of wills, but it was Eddie’s glance th
at fell away first. ‘Fair enough. You’ve made your point.’ As he turned away, he flung over his shoulder, ‘Just have to make sure you never find out what I’m up to, then, won’t I?’

  Polly didn’t like the sound of that – not one bit. But there was nothing else she could do, short of telling Leo.

  And she’d never do that.

  Whenever Polly opened the door to a knock it was in the hopes of seeing Leo, especially if it was on a night when her father was staying in and there was a chance she could go for a walk with Leo. She hadn’t dared to leave the little ones with Violet again, but she so longed to have some time alone with him. He was very good about it; he never complained but would come and sit in the Longdens’ kitchen with her when the rest of the family – apart from Miriam – were at school or at work. With his pattern of shift work, this was quite easy and on fine days they would walk in the park or stroll around the shops or the market, though Polly did her best to steer him away from the market. She didn’t want Leo to find out that Eddie was now working there, though she guessed he’d know anyway. Policemen knew everything: it was their job.

  But one Wednesday afternoon just before the family were to spend their second Christmas without Sarah, it was Roland Spicer who stood on the doorstep, twisting his cap nervously through agitated fingers. He’d become a regular visitor to the Longdens’ home, usually on Friday or Saturday nights when he would have tea with the family and then go to the pub with William.

  ‘Hello, Roland, what are you doing here? It’s only Wednesday.’ Then she caught his worried expression. ‘Is summat wrong? Is it yar mam? Is she worse?’ It was well known that poor Roland led a dog’s life at the beck and call of his invalid mother. His only respite seemed to be his work at the glue factory. Polly felt sorry for him and encouraged his weekly visits. In a roundabout way, it helped her too; William never came home drunk when he’d been with Roland.

  Now, Roland shook his head. ‘Could – could I have a word, Polly? In – in private, like.’

  ‘Of course. Come in. There’s no one home yet, ’cept Miriam. Stevie’s out playing with a mate in the next street, I think.’

  Roland nodded. ‘I know, I saw them. That’s why I – I thought the coast’d be clear.’

  Polly opened her mouth to say, ‘Oooh, Roland, what’s all the cloak and dagger stuff?’ but seeing he was genuinely anxious about something, she bit back the jovial remark and ushered him into the warm kitchen.

  ‘Cold, isn’t it? But then, it is December.’ She tried to make light conversation, but it wasn’t working. So she used Bertha’s tried and trusted remedy for all ills. ‘Cup o’ tea, Roland?’

  ‘Thank you, Polly. That would be nice.’ He sat down at the table and waited until the tea was made and she joined him.

  Always straight to the point, Polly said, ‘What is it, Roland? ’Cos I can see summat’s bothering you. If it’s not your mam, then is it summat at your work? At the glue factory?’

  He raised soulful eyes to look into hers. ‘Not really, Polly, but that’s where I heard about it.’

  ‘Heard what?’

  ‘Ida Norton’s off work because – because her husband’s been arrested for receiving stolen goods and the two lads that work for him are at the police station an’ all.’

  Polly gave a gasp and her hand flew to cover her mouth as she stared at him with wide, frightened eyes.

  ‘Oh no! You mean Micky and – and Eddie?’

  Solemnly, Roland nodded.

  Twenty-One

  ‘When I get me hands on the little tyke, I won’t half give him what for.’

  She was pushing Miriam into her coat and hat and thrusting her into the pram with such unaccustomed roughness that the little girl began to cry.

  ‘Here, let me,’ Roland said, getting up. ‘You get your coat on and I’ll see to her. There, there, pet,’ he soothed the child. ‘Polly’s not shouting at you. She’s just upset about something. Come on, dry those tears now.’

  Roland took a clean white handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed tenderly at Miriam’s cheeks. But Polly was far too agitated to notice; it wasn’t until much later that she would recall his kind action.

  ‘Now,’ he said, straightening up, ‘do you want me to come with you?’

  Polly pursed her lips and shook her head. ‘No, I’m going to ask Bertha to have Miriam for an hour or so and I’ll tell Stevie to go there too. Dad and Violet will have to fend for themselves for once if I’m not back.’

  ‘Mrs – Mrs Halliday? Leo’s mother?’

  ‘That’s right. She’ll look after the bairns and if Leo’s at home, he’ll help me.’

  ‘But he’s in an awkward position, Polly. I mean . . .’ Roland’s voice faded away.

  ‘You mean, if he’s been involved with the arrest?’

  Miserably, Roland nodded. ‘I – I know you’re walking out with him, but—’

  ‘He’ll help me, I know he will.’

  Roland gave a wan smile and didn’t argue any more.

  ‘Course I’ll have em, duck,’ Bertha said readily. ‘I don’t reckon anyone’s going to call for my services this afternoon.’ She chuckled. ‘Though you can never be sure with either those coming into the world or going out of it just when they’re going to decide to do it.’

  ‘Has Leo said owt?’

  ‘Eh? What about?’

  ‘Oh – nothing. I just wondered.’

  ‘You look a bit flustered, lass. Is owt wrong?’

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ Polly said grimly, ‘but our Eddie’s at the police station and I’m about to go and find out why.’

  Bertha’s mouth formed a round ‘Oh’, but she said no more.

  When Polly arrived at the station, it was to meet both Eddie and Micky just coming out.

  She stood near the entrance, her arms folded and tapping her foot on the ground. ‘They’ve not thrown you in a cell, then? More’s the pity.’

  To give him his due, Eddie looked white and more than a little shamefaced, but Micky was walking jauntily towards her as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Perhaps he hadn’t. Maybe – for once – she’d misjudged them both, for surely if they’d been under suspicion they wouldn’t be walking out of the station.

  ‘All been a big mistake. They’re still questioning Vince, but he’ll be out before nightfall,’ Micky told her and put his arm about her waist. She slapped his hand away and his pretended look of hurt incensed her even more. She turned to her brother.

  ‘Eddie . . . ?’

  ‘Leave it, Poll. I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘There’s nowt to talk about, Eddie,’ Micky said swiftly and Polly was quick to see the warning glance he gave her brother. So, she thought, not everything’s as hunky-dory as Micky would have her believe.

  Well, when she got Eddie on his own at home she’d soon get at the truth.

  But Polly could get nothing out of Eddie.

  ‘I can’t get a word out of him, Leo. Will you tell me?’

  Leo regarded her solemnly. ‘I can’t say much, Poll.’

  ‘But you know, don’t you?’

  ‘A bit.’

  ‘Then tell me. Please.’

  ‘Polly, lass, Leo can’t talk about police matters,’ Bertha cut in. ‘You should understand that.’

  Polly rounded on her. ‘But it’s my brother. How can I keep him out of trouble if I don’t know what’s going on?’ She turned back to Leo, pleading with her eyes. ‘Is it this Vince he’s working for? Is he a wrong ’un?’

  Leo sighed and shook his head. ‘He’s helping us with our enquiries, but more than that I can’t tell you.’

  ‘But Eddie – and Micky – are they involved? Are they in trouble?’

  ‘I don’t think so, but they might be called as witnesses if charges are made against Vince Norton.’

  Polly bit her lip. ‘And that’s all you’re going to tell me?’

  Leo glanced away, not wanting to meet her eyes, as he said stiffly, ‘I’m sorry, Polly, but it’s
all I can tell you.’

  She stared at him. There was more he could tell her, she was sure, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to do so.

  ‘I’ll go and ask Ida Norton, then,’ she muttered and made to rise, but Leo grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

  ‘No, don’t do that. Leave it, Polly. Stay out of it.’

  ‘Leo – it’s my brother.’

  ‘I know, I know, but you could make things worse for him if you try to interfere.’ He was silent a moment, seeming to struggle with his conscience before saying haltingly, ‘Look, I will say this. Vince will try to wriggle out of – of whatever he’s being accused of and he’ll try to lay the blame at someone else’s door. Anyone else.’ Now he met her gaze fully and held it. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  ‘I do,’ Bertha chipped in again. ‘He means, lass, that if you start asking too many questions, Vince’ll likely turn on the lads and put the blame on them.’ With a shrewd guess, she added, ‘Receiving stolen goods, that’s what he’ll have been doing. Do as Leo ses, love, an’ keep out of it.’

  Polly stared at him for another long moment before she nodded slowly, but as she walked home, pushing the pram, she felt that Leo – and to a certain extent Bertha too – had let her down.

  Once more, Polly was torn between telling their father and keeping the matter quiet. She decided – for the moment – on the latter course. If there was trouble, William would find out soon enough. But the days went by; Eddie and Micky went to work as usual and, at the end of the week when he handed over part of his wages to her, all Eddie said was, ‘Everything’s OK now, Poll. You needn’t worry any more.’

  ‘Needn’t worry?’ she snapped, her anxiety of the past few days making her short-tempered. ‘When you’re working for that – that crook?’

  Eddie grinned, seeming more relaxed than he had been for the past week. Even he’d seemed on edge. ‘He’s all right is Vince. They’re not charging him.’