‘And where was Mr Halliday when all this was going on?’
‘Safely at home where he should have been and where your father – and your brother – ought to have been.’
‘I’m sorry, Poll,’ Leo said heavily. ‘There were no other arrests last night, but there will be more.’
A new fear shot through Polly. Eddie? Did Leo know that Eddie had been there too?
‘How – how d’you mean?’
‘We know the names of the ringleaders. They’ll be rounded up and charged.’
Now she rattled the newspaper at Leo. ‘But it says here a settlement’s been reached—’
‘Not exactly,’ Leo said, surprisingly gentle now. ‘They’ve agreed to a Commission being set up to look into it. That’s all. It doesn’t mean the strikers have got what they want. At least, not yet. That’ll depend on what the Commission reports.’
‘But they’re reinstating all the strikers if they go back to work at once. There won’t be any more trouble surely?’
Now Leo’s face was grim once more. ‘We’re going to make damn sure there isn’t. Another one hundred and fifty soldiers arrived yesterday to help guard the railways. There’ll be no more trouble, Poll, I can assure you of that.’
Polly stared at him and then asked softly, ‘But how can my dad get his job back if he’s locked up in a cell?’
‘I’m sorry about that, Poll. But I had to do my duty.’
‘Your blasted duty!’ Polly raged. She stood up and suddenly felt light-headed. She realized that she’d had nothing to eat since yesterday dinnertime. With the anxiety over her father’s arrest, she’d had no tea the previous day. And this morning she’d run out early to get a newspaper. Then the news it contained had quite driven all thoughts of breakfast from her mind. She put her hand to her head and swayed. Concerned, Leo rose and put out his hand.
‘Don’t – ’ Polly gasped. ‘Don’t touch me.’
‘Poll, don’t be like that. I – I had to do it. I’d no choice.’
‘Yes, you did. You needn’t have been the one to arrest him.’
Leo’s face was bleak but his expression hardened as he asked quietly, ‘What sort of an upholder of the law would I be then?’
Polly thrust her face close to his. ‘A compassionate one who thought about the girl he’s supposed to love.’
‘I do love you, Poll, you know I do, but—’
Polly was scarcely aware of Bertha muttering, ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ and quietly leaving the room.
‘There shouldn’t be any buts between us. Love should be unconditional.’ Her voice softened and trembled with the love she felt for him and the overwhelming sorrow that it was slipping away from them.
‘And have you always been honest with me, Poll?’ he whispered. ‘I think you’ve always known more about Eddie’s antics than you’ve let on.’
Polly glared at him, but now she couldn’t answer. The conflict between her love for Leo and loyalty to her family was tearing her apart. At last she muttered, ‘I’m going. I’ve Violet and the youngsters to see to.’
As she turned and moved away towards the door, Leo said, ‘I’ll see you later, Poll. And I’ll let you know what’s happening about your dad.’
She whirled around to face him. ‘Nothing would be happening to my dad if it hadn’t been for you.’
When she got back home, it was to find Stevie alone in the kitchen, wolfing his breakfast.
‘Where’s Miriam?’
‘Cooing over the baby,’ he answered.
Stevie, still blithely unaware of William’s arrest, grinned, ‘He’s a grand little chap, isn’t he, even though he’s been yelling this past hour?’
‘Oh dear, I’d better go up and help her. Maybe Vi’s having trouble feeding him.’
She was moving towards the door leading to the staircase when Stevie said, ‘I’ll be off then.’ Stevie had been working extra hours for Mr Wilmott since the start of the school holidays. He stood up and laughed as he asked, ‘By the way, where’s Dad? Gone off to the picket line already?’
Slowly, Polly turned back to face him. ‘Sit down a minute, Stevie love.’
‘I can’t, Poll. I ought to go.’
‘There was a lot of trouble in the city centre on Saturday night.’
‘I know all about that. I spent all yesterday clearing up all the glass. They tore down the boards Mr Wilmott put up and still smashed his windows. We had to throw a lot of fruit and veg away. There was glass all over it – at least what didn’t get pinched,’ he added grimly.
‘Stevie – Dad – ’. She ran her tongue around her lips. ‘Dad was involved in the trouble and – and he – he’s been arrested.’
Stevie was suddenly still. ‘Arrested! When?’
Polly nodded. ‘Last night. Before you got home.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me last night?’
‘You were so late home, I – I – ’
He moved to her and put his arms around her. ‘I was helping Mr Wilmott, Poll. He was in a right state about all the mess and everything that the looters had nicked. I had to stay, but I wouldn’t have done if I’d known what was going on at home. So – where is he now? Is he going to be charged?’
‘I expect so.’
‘Then hadn’t we better find out where he is and what’s going on? Can Leo help?’
Tears filled Polly’s eyes as her legs gave way beneath her and she slumped into a chair. She covered her face with her hands and wept.
Stevie touched her shoulder. ‘What is it, Poll? Tell me.’
She raised anguished eyes to look up at him as she whispered, ‘It was Leo who arrested him.’
Now Stevie too sat down again and took her hands in his. ‘Oh, Poll, no.’
They sat together for some moments, clinging to each other’s hands for comfort but neither could find any words to say. The thin wail of a hungry baby brought Polly to her feet.
‘You go, love. Mr Wilmott’ll likely need your help again this morning. Go on.’ She gave him a gentle push. ‘But don’t tell him about Dad. He’ll find out soon enough,’ she added grimly. ‘Everybody will. But we’ll keep quiet about it as long as we can.’
For the rest of the morning, she helped Violet with the baby. It took a while for the tiny infant to take to the breast, but once he’d got the hang of it he suckled greedily. Violet pulled a face. ‘It hurts, Poll.’
‘It’ll be tender for a bit, I expect, but you’ll soon get used to it.’
Easy tears filled Violet’s eyes. ‘I don’t want to get used to it. I never wanted a baby and I still don’t.’
Polly stood at the end of the bed and wagged her finger at her sister. ‘Now you just listen to me, Vi. It’s not this little mite’s fault he’s been born, so you just love him as he deserves to be loved. I don’t want to ever hear you say again that you didn’t want him. You hear me, Vi? That’s a terrible thing to say. Poor little man.’
‘Then you have him. Like I said before, let’s pretend he’s yours and I can go back to work.’
Polly watched the tiny child, still red and wrinkled from the birth, sucking happily at his mother’s breast, quite unaware of the feelings his arrival had wrought. Polly felt an overwhelming tenderness for the helpless infant. She couldn’t understand why Violet didn’t feel the same. Surely, every mother felt a surge of protective love for her offspring?
But maybe Violet wasn’t a natural mother.
In answer to her sister’s preposterous suggestion, Polly said quietly, ‘He’s your baby, Violet. You’ll come to love him, I know you will.’ And though she tried to put every ounce of confidence into her words that she could muster, she had serious doubts that Violet would ever act like a proper mother should. ‘I’m going out for a while,’ Polly went on. ‘You’ll be all right?’
‘I suppose so,’ Violet muttered morosely.
As Polly rounded the corner, she was appalled yet again by the devastation that met her eyes. The High Street was quiet now, subdued. There were f
ew people about. Mostly, they were shopkeepers or their employees sweeping up the broken glass and rubble from the damage the marauding hooligans had caused. Policemen were patrolling the streets and seemed to be taking statements from people. Polly walked on slowly, taking in the scene of destruction the violence had left. The brewery offices near the station still smouldered.
As she passed the level crossings and neared the main shopping area, she caught snatches of conversation.
‘They’ve not only smashed me windows,’ she heard one shopkeeper complaining to a policeman with a bandage around his forehead beneath his helmet. He had his notebook in his hand and was writing down everything the man was telling him. ‘They’ve been looting in me shop. I’ve lost no end of stock.’
‘Can you give me precise details?’
‘Not yet. I’ll need to check me stock lists. But don’t you worry – I’ll let you know, Officer.’ The man was angry, waving his arms and shaking his fist, not at the officer attempting to do his duty but at the unknown miscreants who had damaged his property and made off with his stock.
Polly shuddered and walked on, but the scene was the same right along the High Street. Here and there she saw dark patches still staining the roadway, blood. So many had been injured, Leo amongst them. She wondered if anyone had been killed and a tremor of fear ran through her once more. What if her father was accused of being the cause of someone’s death?
He could hang for that.
Unable to stand the sight of the devastation, Polly turned for home, feeling nothing but shame that her father had taken part in such a dreadful event in their beautiful city. As she was about to turn the corner back into her own street, she paused and turned her gaze up to the cathedral, still standing proudly on the hill. But now she fancied the Cathedral of the Blessed Virgin was looking down sorrowfully on her people.
It was one thing, Polly thought, to stand up for your rights, to fight for better conditions of employment and a fair wage, but it was quite another to create havoc and chaos in its cause. Now Polly, once so sure of her beliefs, felt suddenly bereft and very much alone. Her mind – and her heart – were in turmoil. Her father was in a prison cell, the love between her and Leo lay in tatters and now she must again shoulder the responsibility for the rest of her family.
Despite the warmth of the August morning, Polly shivered and ran the rest of the way home, closing the door behind her against the rest of the world.
Thirty-Seven
‘Do you know, they’ve nicked half Mr Wilmott’s stock?’ Stevie was indignant when he arrived home from work that evening. ‘Now we’ve had time to straighten things up a bit, we can see what’s gone.’
‘Never! How dreadful.’ Polly sighed and shook her head. ‘I can hardly believe this is happening. I didn’t think there were people like that in our city. Not our beautiful Lincoln.’
Stevie put his arm around her shoulders. Though only eleven, he was already as tall as she was. ‘It’s not the city’s fault, nor most of the people who live here. They didn’t want what happened last night any more than we did.’
Polly glanced sideways at him. ‘But our dad was one of the ringleaders,’ she whispered. ‘How are we ever to live it down?’
‘I don’t know, but we’ll have to try. Same as we have to live with Eddie not always being on the right side of the law. They’re family, Poll, and we’ve got to stick by ’em.’ He gave her arm a squeeze and went on, ‘And talking about family, how’s my new nephew doing and have you told Violet about Dad?’
‘He’s fine and, yes, Vi knows.’ Polly bit her lip and then went on haltingly. ‘Stevie, she’s still saying she doesn’t want the baby. I – I thought she’d love him when he came, but all she can think about is herself.’
‘That’s our Vi.’ Stevie laughed wryly. ‘Don’t worry, Poll. She’s maybe feeling a bit low after the birth. I expect it’s a difficult thing to go through.’
Polly glanced at him admiringly. He was so sensible for a young boy.
‘Perhaps you’re right.’
‘Where’s Eddie? Does he know?’
Polly shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea where he is. He’s not been home since Saturday night – well, early Sunday morning when he brought me home. Have you seen him since then?’
‘I heard him moving about yesterday morning, but he’d disappeared by the time I came down. I expect he went to see if there was any damage at the market.’
A sudden knock at the door made them jump and they stared, wide-eyed with fear, at each other.
‘Do you think that’s the police?’ Polly whispered.
‘I don’t know. What shall we do? Pretend no one’s here?’
At that moment, the baby chose to start wailing.
Polly grimaced. ‘Fat chance of that now. I’d better see who it is.’
She opened the door to find Micky Fowler on the doorstep. He was grinning from ear to ear and carrying a moth-eaten teddy bear. ‘I hear tell I have a son.’
‘Oh really? Decided to acknowledge it’s yours now, have you?’
Micky shrugged. ‘I never said any different. That was me dad trying to find an excuse for me not to marry her if I didn’t want.’
‘Well, you didn’t, did you?’ Polly snapped.
Micky’s face was serious. ‘Polly, I only went with your sister because I couldn’t have you. You know that—’
‘Keep your voice down. I don’t want the whole street knowing.’
‘I don’t mind who knows how I feel about you. How I’ve always felt.’
‘Well, I love my sister – and her little boy. And I won’t have her hurt.’ Pointedly, she added, ‘Not any more than she already has been.’
‘So, there’s really no chance for us? For you and me, Polly?’
For once she could see that Micky Fowler was serious. Mutely, she shook her head.
He gave a deep sigh and then seemed to square his shoulders. ‘Anyway, I’d still like to see me son.’
Polly pulled the door wider open; ‘I’ll ask her.’
As he stepped inside, Micky said, ‘What’s she called him?’
Despite all her worries, Polly suddenly found herself smiling impishly. ‘Michael Fowler Longden.’
Micky’s face was a picture of incredulity and sheer delight and it was the only thing that was to bring laughter into Polly’s life in the weeks that lay ahead.
Eddie came home that night, whistling merrily as if nothing had happened.
‘Have you heard owt about Dad?’
Eddie blinked. ‘Dad? What about Dad? Isn’t he here?’
Polly explained and Eddie’s jauntiness died instantly.
‘Where were you last night? I’ve been worried sick.’
‘I’ve been with Vince, clearing up the mess and setting his stall up. It was late by the time we finished so I stopped at his place last night.’
‘Oh aye,’ Polly said grimly. ‘Got some nice new stock, have you? Boots and shoes, by any chance?’
Eddie glanced at her, but she noticed that he did not deny it.
‘Eddie, have you heard any more news about the strike?’ Stevie asked, trying to steer Polly away from asking Eddie too many awkward questions.
‘Most of ’em are back at work, but there’ve been one or two arrests and they say there’ll be some more. But I didn’t know that Dad was one of them.’
‘Have you heard what’s going to happen to them?’
‘They’ll be sent before the magistrates.’
‘When?’
Eddie shrugged. ‘Tomorrow, mebbe, or the next day.’
Stevie put his arm around Polly’s shoulders. ‘Don’t worry, Poll. He’ll be home by the weekend. You’ll see.’
On the Wednesday night after the weekend riots, Eddie came rushing in.
‘There’s a fire in the next street. You can see the flames from here.’
Polly hurried out into the street. Smoke was billowing upwards and flames licked the night sky.
‘What’s on fire?’
‘The motor works.’
‘Are the firemen there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then we’ll stay well out of the way. You too, Eddie.’ She gripped his arm. ‘Please, listen to me for once.’
‘Don’t worry, Poll. I’m not stupid. There’ll be more arrests after this, specially if anyone’s hurt.’
‘Is it still to do with the strikes?’
Eddie shrugged his shoulders, but his gaze was still on the flames. Even from here they could smell the smoke and hear the shouts of those trying to put the fire out and hear the screams of women afraid for their homes.
‘But why now? The strike’s settled.’
‘Maybe somebody,’ Eddie murmured, ‘didn’t like a member of their family being arrested.’
Polly gasped. ‘Oh, Eddie—’ she breathed, but before she could say any more, he shook off her hand and went back into the house.
Polly’s anxious gaze went back to the glow over the rooftops. ‘Please, just don’t let anyone get hurt.’
When Polly went to the magistrates’ court the following day, she learned to her horror that there had already been one fatality caused by the fire and that another person was in hospital with serious injuries.
She felt so sorry for their families. Brother or not, she thought grimly, if Eddie’s had owt to do with the fire, I hope they do come for him. In the meantime, she had to sit and watch helplessly as her father, alongside other men who’d been arrested since, came before the bench. As they stood, crowded together, the charge – the same for all of them – was read out. The language of the law, Polly found, was so stilted and convoluted that she didn’t understand exactly what they were being accused of.
‘What’s it mean?’ Polly whispered to the man sitting next to her. ‘I don’t understand it.’
‘Nor do any of us, lass,’ he whispered back. ‘Why these men? Why’ve they been singled out, I’d like to know? One of them’s me brother and I don’t reckon he did owt except support his mates in the strike.’
‘Is he on the railway?’
‘Nah, none of ’em are. He’s just a labourer, but he likes to stick up for the rights of the working man.’ He sniffed. ‘And look where that’s got him.’
Forgive and Forget Page 20
