Forgive and Forget

by Dickinson, Margaret

  Roland, however, was blithely unaware of the true reason for the pretty blush on her cheeks as she murmured, ‘Thank you, Roland. I will come out with you tomorrow night.’

  Forty-One

  It wasn’t until they were sitting in the fancy restaurant that Roland realized how hungry Polly was. She devoured every course that was put in front of her and cleared each plate of every scrap. At first, when she kept her eyes down and concentrated on the meal, he’d thought it was because she was still anxious about being recognized, that she didn’t want eye contact with anyone else in the room. But by the end of the meal, when she sat back with a smile and looked about her, he realized just how famished she’d been.

  Fortunately for Polly, this was not one of the places she’d visited with Leo, so there were no poignant memories to spoil her enjoyment. And she even managed, for an all too brief couple of hours, to put thoughts of her father and the concerns of her family out of her mind.

  ‘Oh, Roland, that was wonderful. Thank you.’

  He reached across the table and touched her hand. ‘We’ll do it again, Polly. And soon.’

  She smiled thinly, feeling so guilty that she could not share this wonderful food with the rest of her family, but quite unable to refuse the chance of another sumptuous meal.

  Over the next few weeks, times were still desperate for the Longdens, but now Roland brought more gifts for the other members of the family too when he realized just how hungry they all must be. And he took Polly out for an evening meal at least once a week. She was not daft and she knew exactly what he was doing and, more worryingly, why he was doing it. But she was powerless to stop him; she needed his help as she had never needed help before. For the sake of her family, she was trapped into accepting succour from a man she knew might be falling in love with her.

  She didn’t like doing it, but she had no choice.

  Just as, a little voice deep inside her reminded her, Leo had had no choice when he had arrested her father for his violent behaviour.

  It was July 1912 before William was released, having served the full nine months of his sentence. He might have been out sooner had he not got embroiled in a fight in the prison and lost the reduction in his sentence that the judge had given him.

  ‘Are you never going to learn, Dad?’ Polly had hissed at him across the table when she heard about the fight on one of her visits. William would not have admitted it to her, relying on the fact that his daughter would not understand the prison system and would think that a nine-month sentence meant exactly that. He was forgetting entirely that Polly had heard about the reduction to six months given by the judge at his trial. But when he came into the room where she was waiting for him, he was sporting a yellowing bruise around one eye.

  ‘There’s this nutcase on our landing and he started a fight when we were on exercise in the yard.’

  Polly pursed her lips. ‘So I take it you’re not going to get out at the end of six months now, like the judge said?’

  William glanced at her. So Polly did know. Trust Polly, he thought morosely, but then realizing what a heavy burden she was carrying during his absence, he murmured, ‘I’m sorry, Poll. Don’t tell ’em at home, will you?’

  ‘I’ll have to, Dad. They’re all expecting you home in April.’

  Now there was another three months to be added on to his sentence. Another three months to try to keep them all out of the workhouse.

  The weeks until his release dragged slowly and not only for William but for his family too. The other strikers – those that had not been imprisoned – had been reinstated in their jobs as part of the terms of settlement agreed upon to end the strike. But Polly realized that this would probably not be the case for her father; he would be branded a troublemaker and a jailbird. But at least with him back home, she could go out to work. And yet no one seemed prepared to take her on.

  The day she met William coming out of the doors of the jail should have been cause for celebration, but it was not. She was thankful to have him home and yet, in some ways, even more fearful about what would happen next – what he would do next. She’d thought a prison term would sober him, would curb his quick temper, but the fight had proved otherwise. If she had expected a cowed and broken man to emerge, she was mistaken; William Longden would never change. Not even a term in prison with hard labour had altered him.

  But nevertheless she was thankful to have him home.

  ‘I hope you’re not still seeing that bugger who got me put away,’ he said as he sat down in the kitchen.

  Polly rounded on him. ‘No, I’m not, but if you think you’re the innocent in all this, then you can think again. I’ll not forgive him for what he did, but I’ll not forgive you either for being the cause of it.’

  William glowered at her. ‘Don’t you dare speak to me like that, girl. I’m still master in my own house.’

  Polly stood in front of him, her arms folded. ‘Are you indeed? Then you’d better get out there and try and find some work.’

  Now William blinked. ‘Work? What are you talking about? I’ll be going back to me work on the railway.’

  ‘I rather think not, Dad. D’you really expect them to take you back?’

  ‘You said everyone had got their jobs back.’

  ‘Oh aye, they have.’ She leant towards him. ‘The ones that didn’t get caught for inciting a riot. The ones that didn’t get sent to jail.’

  He was thoughtful for a moment, before muttering, ‘I’ll go and see the boss, but first, Poll, you can get the tin bath in out the yard. I want to get the smell of that place off me. I hope you’ve got me some clean clothes ready?’

  ‘Aye, I have,’ Polly said grimly. ‘But you just want to be thankful I haven’t pawned ’em yet. Nearly everything else has gone.’

  He stared at her. ‘You’ve never been tekin’ our stuff to the pop shop?’

  Now she rounded on him in fury. ‘How else d’you think I’ve managed? There’s been very little money coming into this house for nearly a year – ’ she couldn’t resist the barb – ‘in case you’d forgotten.’

  Now, for a brief moment, William had the grace to look ashamed and for the rest of the day his sense of shame only grew worse. He returned home from the railway offices, defeat in every line of his thin, hunched shoulders.

  ‘You were right,’ he told Polly. ‘I’m sacked.’

  She sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Dad, but it’s no more than I expected. Have you seen the union man? Can he help?’

  William sat down heavily. ‘Doubt he’ll want to. But I’ll try him tomorrow. Looks like I’m being made a scapegoat.’

  ‘Dad, a lot of people got hurt that night and two men died in a fire that folks say were started by rioters. How’re their families going to feel for the rest of their lives, eh? Can’t you think about other folks for once?’

  ‘We were only standing up for our rights.’

  ‘Oh aye, your rights! What about those poor fellers that died? What about their rights, eh? They had a right to live, but they lost that because of you and your like.’

  ‘I didn’t start any fires, Poll, I—’

  ‘Only because I stopped you.’

  He glared at her. ‘I didn’t start the one at the brewery offices and I was banged up by the time the other one happened. Thanks to your precious boyfriend.’

  ‘He was only doing his duty . . .’ Polly stopped in surprise. The words had come out of her mouth of their own volition, as if she’d had no will to stop them.

  ‘Duty, was it? Was it duty to arrest innocent folks and bang ’em up for nine months?’

  ‘You were no innocent. You’ve brought shame on our family and on our lovely city. It’ll be a long time before any of us forget this.’ She turned away before he should see the tears in her eyes. ‘If we ever do.’

  Silent now, Polly dished up the meal she’d made from the half-rotten vegetables which Stevie had brought home the previous Saturday, and, unrepentant, all William said was, ‘We got better grub in pr
ison.’

  Forty-Two

  ‘Hello, Roland, what brings you here?’ William greeted him as he opened the door to a knock. Then he paused and looked closer at Roland’s face. ‘Summat up, lad? Come away in.’

  He ushered their visitor into the kitchen. ‘Sit down.’

  ‘Is – is Polly at home?’

  William pursed his mouth and shook his head. ‘No, she’s out job hunting.’

  Roland sat down in the chair near the range. ‘That’s the reason I’ve come. Well, one of ’em.’

  ‘Oh? Have you got something for her then?’

  Roland nodded. ‘I’ve always told Polly that there’d be a job for her back at the factory if ever she—’. He took a deep breath. ‘Of course, I haven’t mentioned it before because I thought she’d be getting wed.’ His voice trailed away and William noticed the anguish in his eyes.

  ‘Well, she’s not now,’ he said grimly. ‘And you know why.’

  ‘Yes.’ He paused and bit his lip. ‘Mr Longden, I’ve been coming round here quite a lot while you’ve been – away. And I’ve tried to get some work for her at the glue factory when I found out how tough things were for – for the family, but Mr Wainwright wouldn’t hear of employing her.’

  ‘Because of me, you mean?’

  Roland nodded miserably.

  ‘So has he changed his mind?’

  ‘No, but Mr Wainwright’s retired and – and I’ve been promoted to manager.’

  William beamed and slapped him on the back. ‘By, this calls for a celebration. We’ll have to go to the George and Dragon tonight.’ He paused and then asked, ‘So now you can employ who you like?’

  ‘That’s why I thought I’d come and ask her if she’s still looking for work.’

  ‘That’s very good of you, Roland. I’m sure she’ll jump at the chance. She’s been asking round, but there doesn’t seem much going at the moment – at least, not what she could do. I suppose she could go into service – she’s got a lot of experience in that.’ He pulled a wry face. ‘But it’d probably mean her living in and we’d miss her here.’

  There was silence between them for several moments before William prompted, ‘You said that was one of the reasons you’d come round. What’s the other?’

  ‘It’s my mother. She’s in hospital. They don’t think it’ll be long.’

  ‘Aw lad, I’m sorry.’

  Roland tried to smile. ‘Thank you, Mr Longden.’ Another pause, then he asked, ‘Do you think Polly will be home soon?’

  William glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘I reckon so. The youngsters’ll be coming out of school soon and she always likes to be home then.’

  On cue, the door rattled and Polly came in like a whirlwind. ‘By heck, but it’s blowy today. And it’s supposed to be summer. Hello, Roland.’ Her face sobered. ‘I’ve just heard about your mam. I am sorry.’

  Roland nodded, acknowledging her sympathy but saying nothing. William heaved himself up out of the chair. ‘I think Roland wants to talk to you, Poll, so I’ll mek mesen scarce.’

  Once alone with Polly, Roland explained swiftly about his promotion and added, ‘There’s a job going at the factory, if – if you want it.’

  Polly’s face lit up. ‘Really? Oh, Roland, how wonderful.’

  ‘I’m so sorry I couldn’t manage it before, but old Wainwright . . .’

  ‘It’s all right. I understand.’ Then Polly put her head on one side. ‘Roland, you’re not making a place for me, are you?’

  ‘Well—’

  ‘Roland, I don’t want to take someone else’s place. I don’t want you sacking someone—’

  ‘Oh no,’ he said swiftly. ‘I wouldn’t. I mean – I know you wouldn’t want me to do that. But I can make a case for an extra pair of hands. Luckily, we’re busy just now. And then, when there is a vacancy, I just won’t fill it, if you see what I mean.’

  Polly wasn’t sure she did, but she was grateful to be offered a job. She’d tramped the city all morning and the only offer had been scrubbing floors at a pittance of a wage.

  ‘When do I start?’

  ‘Monday, if you like.’

  ‘I do like. And thank you, Roland. Thank you very much.’

  The silence lengthened between them when he made no move to leave.

  ‘Polly,’ he said hesitantly at last, ‘maybe I shouldn’t be saying this now and – and it’s just between us. But my mother’s not going to live – they’ve said so. It’s only a matter of time and – and when she’s gone – I mean, after a suitable time, would you – could you consider marrying me?’

  Suddenly he leapt out of his chair and almost threw himself to his knees in front of her. He grasped her hands and looked up beseechingly into her face. ‘Polly, I’ve always loved you. You must know that. I’d do anything to make you happy. And once we were married, you wouldn’t have to work. I’d take care of you, I promise. I know – I know you don’t love me, but – we’re friends, aren’t we? And – and I love you so much, Polly.’ It was a long speech, probably the longest Polly had ever heard him make, and an impassioned one. But it was one that shocked and embarrassed her. And yet she’d always known that he was fond of her. His eyes had followed her around the room and she would have been stupid not to have noticed the adoration in them. And just lately, when he’d taken her out for a meal each week, she’d seen it more and more. But Roland had always known that it was Leo she loved. Things were different now, though, and Roland was offering her a respectable marriage.

  The silence had been so long between them that he prompted, ‘Polly, will you at least think about it? Maybe I shouldn’t have just blurted it out like that and before my poor mother’s even gone. What must you think of me?’ Suddenly, he looked embarrassed and ashamed of his own impetuosity. But she couldn’t blame him. She could see things from his point of view.

  When she’d worked at the factory for the short time before her own mother had died, she’d heard the women talking about the young man who was their foreman.

  ‘Poor old Roland,’ they’d said, in their kinder moments. ‘Such a dull life he’s always had.’

  ‘Why? What d’you mean?’ Polly had asked, for even then he’d been some kind of benefactor to her. And this hadn’t gone unnoticed by the other women.

  ‘You could liven his life up for him, Polly. He’s got his eye on you and no mistake.’

  ‘His father died young and he’s been a mother’s boy for years,’ Nelly Rawdon, a kinder soul than some of the other women at the factory, had told her. ‘Even as a little lad, he wasn’t allowed to play out in the street with the other lads. And now she’s an invalid, he’s no life at all.’

  ‘Wish he’d got his eye on me,’ one woman had grumbled. ‘She always gets the easy jobs.’

  ‘Now, now, Ida. No sour grapes.’ Raucous laughter had followed the admonishment, but at only thirteen Polly’s face had burned at the suggestion that she was being favoured by the foreman, who seemed, then, to be so much older than she was.

  But now, sitting with her hands held tightly in his, her overriding instinct was to pull away. She was angry with Leo, could never forgive him, but she still loved him and was heart-sore at their broken romance. But, she asked herself, though she would never marry Leo, was it fair to marry someone she didn’t love just to get a husband, a family and a home of her own? Was it fair on Roland, who was a lovely man? Was it even being fair to her? She needed time to think.

  Polly swallowed and made herself squeeze his hands in return. The spark of hope that lit his eyes humbled her.

  ‘Roland, this is so sudden – ’. She laughed nervously, realizing she was sounding like some foolish heroine from a romantic novel.

  ‘I know, I’m sorry.’ He gave her hands one final squeeze and then pulled away. Standing up, he picked up his cap. ‘I’ve sprung it on you. But, Polly, whatever you decide, I shall understand. I shall always be your friend, if I can’t be anything else.’ He smiled and then, pulling on his cap, he said with a
forced brightness, ‘See you on Monday morning, then.’

  She nodded as he turned towards the door and left her sitting there, staring into space.

  ‘Dad, I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘What about, lass?’

  William was sitting in his chair near the range, where he spent most of his time now. He had given up even the pretence of trying to seek work.

  ‘Roland has asked me to marry him.’

  ‘Ah.’ He bit down on his empty pipe. There was no money now for tobacco. ‘I thought as much when he came the other day.’ He paused and then prompted, ‘And?’

  ‘Well . . .’ She avoided meeting his gaze. ‘I – I’m fond of him. He’s a nice man, but . . .’

  William’s tone hardened and he couldn’t hide the bitterness as he said, ‘But you’re still carrying a torch for that copper. Look, Poll, I didn’t want any of this to happen, but it has, and we’ve all got to live with it.’

  Polly’s head shot up. ‘I know, Dad, I know. I’d never marry Leo. Not now, but . . .’

  William’s eyes softened a little. ‘But you can’t help how you still feel about him, is that it?’

  Miserably, she nodded. ‘I hate him – hate him – for what he did, but I still can’t stop thinking about him, remembering the good times before all the trouble started.’ She didn’t add, though she was thinking it: and I hate you for your part in it all.

  Her father sighed heavily. ‘You can’t turn your feelings off like a tap, I suppose. Oh, I’m no good at all this sort of talk. You need a woman to talk to.’

  The thought lay unspoken between them; you need a mother. But her own mam was gone and now the only other woman who’d been a shoulder to lean on in troubled times, Bertha Halliday, was lost to her too.

  ‘All I know is,’ William went on, ‘Leo’s different to us. Seems to me, he’ll always put his job and what he sees as his position, his duty, if you like, before anything else. Before you, before his family – before anything. He’s already proved as much, hasn’t he?’