William nodded. ‘Very nice too. He must be a nice bloke that Mr Wilmott. He was very good to us when Eddie worked for him. He must think a lot about our family. I don’t know why Eddie ever left him. He’d got a good job there.’ Polly held her breath. She’d never told her father the real reason behind Eddie’s departure from Mr Wilmott’s employ. But William answered his own question. ‘Still, I expect he didn’t want to be a delivery boy for ever.’ He pointed his knife towards Stevie. ‘But it’s a good start for you, an’ all. Just you mind you keep your nose clean and you’ll do all right there.’
They ate in silence until they heard the noise of the door opening and Eddie sauntered into the room.
‘Hello. Any tea going, Poll?’
Everyone, except William, stared at him. Then Polly, pulling herself together, said, ‘Get on with your tea, Miriam.’ Sitting beside her, she laid a warning hand on the girl’s knee and, when Miriam looked up, put her forefinger to her lips. Then she rose and went into the scullery to fetch the meal she had plated up for Eddie, half-expecting that the food would be wasted; she had not thought to see him come home as though nothing had happened.
But only minutes later the feared and anticipated knock came. Leo, wearing his uniform, stood there.
‘Where’s Eddie?’ he asked bluntly when Polly answered the door. ‘And don’t try to tell me he’s not here because I’ve just seen him come in.’
Her eyes widened at his brusqueness. No smile of welcome, not even a ‘Good evening, Polly.’
‘H-having his tea in the kitchen with the rest of us. Why?’
Leo made to step across the threshold, but Polly put up her hand, palm outwards. ‘Whoa, there. Just a minute, Constable.’
Leo’s expression softened a little and she saw the smile quirk at the corner of his mouth. ‘I’d just like a word with him, Poll. That’s all.’
‘Not while you’re in your uniform, you don’t,’ Polly snapped. ‘It’s official, I presume.’
Leo sighed and said heavily, ‘It’s official. Please, let me just have a word with him?’
‘Why, what’s it about?’
‘I think you know that only too well, Polly, don’t you? You were there. I saw you with Miriam and the Fowlers’ girl. You saw what happened. And if you’ve eyes in your head you’d have seen Eddie, an’ all. Alongside the troublemakers.’
‘I—’. She was tempted, very tempted, to lie. But she couldn’t. It was not in her nature. As she’d said outright to Eddie. ‘I’ll not tell on you, but I’ll never lie for you.’ And now the moment she had dreaded was here.
She pulled the door wider and said heavily, ‘You’d better come in.’
As she led him through into the kitchen the rest of the family all looked up. Only Eddie calmly continued eating his meal.
‘Hello, Leo, lad,’ William greeted him. ‘What brings you here?’
‘Official business, I’m afraid, Mr Longden.’ Leo’s glance rested on Eddie. ‘Could I have a word with Eddie, if you please?’
‘’Course you can.’ William pointed with his knife. ‘There he is. Large as life and twice as ugly.’
‘Eddie,’ Leo began, ‘perhaps this’d be better done in private.’
William frowned, sensing that perhaps all was not well. ‘You can say anything you have to say in front of us all. There ain’t no secrets in this family.’
If only that were true, Polly thought, her heart sinking. If Leo or any of his colleagues had seen Eddie throwing stones, then surely he was about to be arrested?
‘Sit down, lad, and tell us what this is all about,’ William said.
‘I prefer to stand, Mr Longden, thank you.’
‘Suit yarsen,’ William muttered and carried on eating, blithely unaware of the bombshell that Leo was about to drop.
‘Eddie, I saw you on the common today at the celebrations. I saw you amongst the troublemakers and I saw you throw a stone at one of the policemen’s horses.’
‘Not me, Officer.’ Eddie grinned. ‘You must have been mistaken.’
‘No, I wasn’t, Eddie, because Micky Fowler was alongside you. You threw the first one and then he threw a second, the one that actually hit the horse.’
Eddie shrugged, still braving it out. ‘Micky has other mates, y’know. It wasn’t me.’
‘Then can you tell me where you were between the hours of two and four this afternoon?’
Eddie frowned as if trying to remember. ‘Out and about, but I didn’t go anywhere near the racecourse.’
‘You did, Eddie, we seed you,’ Miriam piped up before Polly could lay a warning hand on her shoulder.
Eddie glared at his young sister. ‘Then you need glasses an’ all, our Miriam, ’cos I weren’t there. See?’
Miriam quailed beneath his angry look, turned and buried her face in Polly’s apron. Absently, Polly stroked the child’s hair, but her attention was still on Eddie – and Leo.
‘What’s been going on?’ Now William was getting heated. He stood up and turned to face Leo. ‘How dare you come into this house and accuse my son?’
Leo held up his hand. ‘Mr Longden, I have come here to warn Eddie, not to arrest him. Not this time, but if any of my colleagues saw him then it’ll be out of my hands.’ He turned back to face Eddie. ‘I’m giving you an official caution, Eddie. I have to do that. You were seen amongst the troublemakers at a serious incident of public disorder.’
‘You mean this is going to be recorded?’ William said. ‘He’s going to have a criminal record?’
‘No – no, I won’t report it, but I am warning him. Any more trouble and I won’t have any choice but to take the matter further.’
There was silence in the room as Leo nodded to them all, turned and left the room. No one – not even Polly – saw him to the door.
William sat down heavily. The silence lengthened until at last he asked, ‘Were you there, Eddie?’
‘Course I was. It was only a bit of fun.’
‘I don’t call fighting and throwing stones at the horses and jeering and shouting at the police fun,’ Polly snapped.
Eddie glowered at her. ‘No, well, you wouldn’t, would you? Miss Goody-Two-Shoes with a copper for a boyfriend.’
‘Fat chance there’ll be of that now, I shouldn’t wonder,’ Polly muttered and, freeing herself from Miriam’s clinging arms, she began to stack the dishes, clattering them together in her frustration and anger.
When, oh when, was this family ever going to think of her for once?
Thirty-One
In the July and August of 1911 the city suffered under a heatwave that was affecting the whole country and showed no signs of giving way. Day after day the temperatures soared into the nineties.
‘Oh, it’s so hot,’ Miriam whined. ‘Can I go and swim in the river with the others?’
‘No, you can’t,’ Polly snapped, feeling frazzled herself. ‘Want to catch typhoid like our mam did?’
The little girl’s eyes widened and her lower lip trembled.
Contrite, Polly swept Miriam into her arms. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. It’s this heat. It’s making everyone bad-tempered.’ She felt the child’s forehead. ‘You are hot, aren’t you?’
‘I keep going to the lavvy and I feel sick,’ Miriam wailed.
Now Polly was anxious. Rumour was rife that the hospitals were crowded with children suffering from heatstroke. One or two had even died, Polly had heard, and the thought terrified her.
‘Go and lie down on your bed and I’ll fetch some water to cool you down. You should keep drinking plenty and I’ll sponge you down.’
‘Will the water make me poorly, like it did Mam?’
‘No, no, not now,’ Polly reassured her swiftly. ‘The water’s quite safe for us to drink. I still boil it anyway.’
What she didn’t tell her sister was that there were rumours there might be a shortage of water if this heatwave persisted and there was no rain.
It seemed that Polly and little Miriam were not the only ones made fr
actious by the heat. William arrived home in a state of excited agitation.
‘We’re going on strike.’
‘What!’ Polly stared at him in horror. ‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s a national strike being called.’
‘Who by?’
‘The Transport Workers Federation.’
‘And who are they when they’re at home?’ Polly slammed his evening meal in front of him, wishing she had the courage to tip it over his head.
Strike indeed! She wished she could go on strike and put her feet up if only for a day. But no, women were expected to carry on with the housework and look after the family, no matter what.
‘What it says. It’s a collection of several unions that banded together.’ William grinned and thumped his fist on the table. ‘Gives us more strength. More clout.’
‘And who were you thinking of clouting? You’ll end up in jail one of these days if you don’t stop using them fists of yours. You and Mr Fowler both.’
William sprang up, towering over his daughter. ‘You watch your tongue, girl. Just show a bit of respect for your father.’
Polly, all five foot nothing of her, squared up to him. ‘I’ll show you respect when you deserve it. Strike, indeed. Whatever next?’
Suddenly, William’s anger died. He was strangely pensive as he said quietly now, ‘You’re so like your mam, Poll. That’s just what she’d’ve said. Miriam might look like her, but you’ve got her spirit. I pity the feller you marry, ’cos he’ll never wear the trousers in his own house.’
Accustomed to her father’s sudden mood swings, Polly smiled. ‘Oh, I think Leo can stand up for himself, don’t you?’
William eyed her, gave a grunt and then sat down. ‘So – you reckon you’re going to marry young Leo, do you? Bring a copper into the family. What d’you reckon our Eddie will think to that?’
‘Eddie won’t have any say in the matter,’ she said sharply. She paused and then asked, ‘So what’s started all this?’
‘You read the papers now, don’t you?’
‘When I’ve time.’
‘Remember the seamen’s strike back in June.’
‘Ye-es.’
The seamen had gone on strike in the middle of June, joined by all the workers employed by shipping companies. Under the enormous strain that the strike was causing, by the end of the month the employers had had to give in to the union’s demands. The seamen had won their battle and, encouraged by this, a wave of strikes hit Liverpool when the dockers walked out. In support, the seamen again walked out. The unrest had spread to transport workers and now, it seemed, the railway workers were involved.
She’d read all about it in the newspaper, but not for one moment had Polly envisaged trouble coming to Lincoln. This was the sort of thing that happened in other parts of the country, not in her city.
William was sitting gazing into the distance, making no move to start his meal.
‘What’s the matter, Dad? Aren’t you hungry? I know this heat makes you lose your appetite, but it’s your favourite steak and kidney pie.’
‘It’s not that, Poll. It’s just – well – there’s going to be trouble. I can see it coming and if there is, then me and your Leo will be on opposite sides of the fence, so to speak.’
Polly stared at him in horror and then sank into a nearby chair as her legs gave way beneath her.
‘I just hope you know what you’re doing, Dad, that’s all. You’re getting a mite too friendly with Bert Fowler all of a sudden. He’ll lead you astray, he—’
‘Don’t you think I’m man enough to make up me own mind? I don’t need to follow what others say.’
‘That’s exactly what you are doing—’
‘You mind your tongue, girl. I’ve told you afore, I won’t have any cheek from you or else . . .’
Polly stood on the hearth and faced him, her arms folded in front of her. The unrelenting heat was getting to them all, making everyone fractious and quarrelsome. ‘Oh aye, or else what, Dad? You’ll throw me out? I don’t think so. Where’d you be without me to do your cooking, your washing and cleaning the house to say nothing of looking after Stevie and Miriam? And, by the way, she’s sick. But I don’t expect you’ve had time to notice that, ’ave ya? Too busy organizing a strike so you can all have a nice few days’ holiday.’
‘It’ll be no holiday, girl, if this goes ahead. There’ll be no pay and if the employers—’
‘What? What d’you mean, no pay? How do you expect me to feed a family of six on nothing? And there’ll be another mouth to feed before long – in case you’d forgotten.’
William shot her an angry look. ‘I only wish I could,’ he muttered morosely, before adding, ‘but the strike won’t last long. They’ll have to give in eventually.’
‘Oh aye. Who? The employers – or the strikers?’
William glared at her again, but this time he made no reply.
‘Where are you going?’
Polly grabbed her father’s arm as he made for the door.
‘Out.’
‘I can see that, but where?’
‘Nowt to do wi’ you.’
‘I think it is.’
He whirled round and for a moment she thought he was going to hit her. ‘I said,’ he muttered through gritted teeth, ‘it’s nowt to do wi’ you.’
‘You’re going to join the picket line, aren’t you?’ The railway workers were now on strike and even workers from other trades had joined them. Picket lines were on duty near the level crossings on the High Street. Day after day the hot weather was unrelenting and a feeling of unrest and a strange excitement hung over the city.
‘What if I am?’
Polly folded her arms and glared at him. ‘Well, if you are, I wash me hands of you. I want nowt to do with any of it.’
For a brief moment William hesitated. Then his frown deepened and he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Please yarsen.’ He turned away and slammed the door behind him, leaving Polly staring after him.
Thirty-Two
‘What’s that noise?’ Violet asked. ‘It sounds like a swarm of bees. Oh, Poll, don’t let bees get into the house. I hate bees.’
Polly cocked her head on one side to listen. ‘They’ll not get in here, Vi, I shouldn’t worry.’ Then she went to the door and opened it. Returning to the kitchen, she said, ‘It looks like there’s a lot of people at the top of the road. I’ll just go and see what’s going on.’
‘It’ll be the strikers, Poll.’
They exchanged a worried glance. ‘And Dad’s out there somewhere with them. And Eddie too, more than likely. What if . . . ?’
‘You stay here, Vi. I don’t think you’d better take your little walk tonight. And don’t let either Stevie or Miriam leave the house.’
It was already gone nine o’clock and the two younger children were in bed; Miriam because of her age and Stevie because his work as delivery boy for Mr Wilmott tired him and he went willingly to bed now of his own accord, especially on a Friday night. The following day would be busy, there were always a lot of deliveries on a Saturday.
‘Be careful, Poll,’ Vi said, her voice quavering with anxiety. ‘There might be trouble. Mr Fowler’s bound to be there and if they’ve both been drinking . . .’ The suffocating heat was affecting Violet, now nearing the final month of her pregnancy, badly. Only in the cool of late evening when it was dark did she venture out to get some fresh air. But tonight she was going nowhere.
Polly left the house and walked up the street. At the top end, near the High Street, she could see crowds milling about. She hesitated and then, making up her mind, walked on.
As she rounded the corner, she stopped and put her hand out to the nearest wall for support. The High Street was thronged with hundreds of people, mostly men, standing in groups. She edged her way along the wall, trying to find her father or Eddie. Slowly, she made her way along the fringe of the crowd until she came to the Midland station’s level crossing, but she could see no sign of eith
er of them. So, she moved on, further up the street until she came to the second level crossing, which served the Great Northern line.
She could see at once what was happening; the crowd were preventing the gates from being opened to allow two waiting trains to cross the High Street.
‘This lot aren’t all railwaymen,’ she muttered. ‘There’s others here that have nothing to do with the strike. They’re just here to cause trouble. Just like at the sports.’
Anxiously, she scanned the faces, searching for her father or Eddie, but now the light was fading and she couldn’t pick out anyone she knew. Except Leo. Suddenly, she saw him standing in a group with other officers. She gasped as a senior officer shouted, ‘Charge!’ and the line of police moved forward, their batons raised.
To Polly’s horror, as they reached the milling crowds they began to hit out indiscriminately. Men, a few women, and even one or two youngsters, tried to flee from the whirling sticks. A man fell to the ground, his forehead bleeding. One of the constables was hit on the head by a stone. Women’s screams rent the air and men yelled and shook their fists, but the gates were opened and the first train edged its way forward.
Jeering and hooting from the crowd directed at the train driver and his colleagues now drowned the cries of fear. People crowded forward again, but both trains passed over the crossing and gathered speed. No doubt, Polly thought, the driver and his companions were relieved to escape safely.
Now that the trains had gone and the gates were opened once more for road users, Polly thought that the trouble would be over, but just then she heard the sound of breaking glass and saw that a mob of youths were throwing stones and bricks at the signal box. Through the gloom she saw the old signalman duck out of sight as a stone was hurled through the broken window and rattled onto the floor of the box.
Polly turned and hurried away, anxious now for her own safety. Nor did she want to be thought to be taking part in the demonstration that was rapidly getting out of hand. It was bad enough that members of her family were already involved, for amongst the hooligans throwing stones she had, at last, seen Eddie.
Forgive and Forget Page 17
