Forgive and Forget

by Dickinson, Margaret

  ‘But he wanted me to give up working at the school, stay at home and look after him and Jacob, but I – I disobeyed him.’

  ‘Disobeyed him?’ William was genuinely puzzled, then his expression cleared. ‘Oh, I see it. You’re thinking of your marriage vows, eh? Promising to love, honour and obey. Is that it?’

  When Polly nodded, he laughed wryly. ‘Well, a lot of us men’d give our eye teeth to have our wives remember that particular bit of the service, lass. And I include your mam in that, an’ all. Sarah? Obey me? That’s a laugh!’

  Despite the seriousness of their conversation, a smile twitched at Polly’s mouth. ‘She was a strong woman, wasn’t she?’

  William nodded. ‘She was. And you’re very like her, Polly. You’ve had it tough in your young life, but I’ve never heard one word of complaint pass your lips. You’ve just got on with it. And now you’ve to do it again. But this time you must think of yourself. What you want. And if it’s Leo Halliday – and he still wants you – then you have my blessing.’ He heaved himself up from the chair. ‘That’s all I’ve got to say, lass.’ As he passed by her on his way out, he touched her shoulder. Quietly, in a voice that was not quite steady, he said, ‘You deserve a bit of happiness, Poll. Real happiness.’

  He left her sitting deep in thought in the dusk of a summer’s evening, watching the shadows lengthen in the backyard.

  Sixty-Nine

  It was the summer holidays, so there was no school. Her time was filled with caring for Jacob and cleaning the house from top to bottom. She threw out all the old musty bedlinen, tablecloths and curtains that Roland’s mother had stored for years in cupboards and ottomans.

  ‘Hello, duck, what brings you here?’ Albie greeted her and Jacob. ‘Now then, Jacob, me lad. We aren’t half missing you, me and the missus.’ He winked at Jacob. ‘We’ll be glad when school starts and yar mam lets us look after you again.’

  Polly smiled at him. ‘You’re very good to us, Albie, but Jacob starts school in September.’

  When she saw the big man’s face fall, she knew that he’d enjoyed having Jacob to care for almost as much as Selina had.

  ‘Aw, that’s a pity. My Selina’ll miss you summat rotten.’ His face brightened. ‘But mebbe yar mam’ll let you come round and see us after school, eh? Now, what can I do for you?’

  ‘I’m after some new material, Albie. I’ve been having a clear-out and we need some new curtains and cushions and, oh, all sorts of things, don’t we, Jacob?’

  The boy nodded solemnly. ‘Mam’s going to sew me some new sheets for my bed.’

  ‘You’ve got a sewing machine then?’

  Polly laughed. ‘Good Heavens, no! I do it all by hand.’

  ‘It’ll take you weeks and you’ll likely strain your eyes.’

  Polly sighed. ‘Well, I’ve plenty of time on my hands. Once Jacob’s in bed, there’s – there’s nothing else to do.’ Her voice trailed away and Albie couldn’t help noticing the wistfulness in her tone.

  ‘Mmm.’ The big man was thoughtful. ‘You need a machine if you’re going to do all that sewing, lass. Tell you what, you nip over to Vince’s stall. I know he’s got a nice little Singer sewing machine there.’

  Polly’s eyes widened and reading the meaning in them Albie laughed. ‘It’s all right. All above board, ’cos I know where it came from. An’ you tell him I sent you and he’ll treat you right, else he’ll have me to answer to.’

  ‘But I don’t know how to use one, Albie.’

  ‘Oh, that’s no problem. Selina’ll show you.’ He chuckled and nodded towards Jacob. ‘And it’ll give her an excuse to see this little chap.’

  Polly approached Vince Norton’s stall, feeling an unaccustomed nervousness.

  ‘Hello, Poll, what you doin’ here?’ Micky popped up from behind the stall and grinned at her.

  ‘I – er – Albie tells me Vince has got a sewing machine for sale.’

  ‘That’s right. Why, d’you want it?’

  ‘Er – well – yes. I think so.’

  ‘Going to take in sewing as well as teaching kids their A, B, C and wiping snotty noses?’

  Polly pursed her lips primly. ‘Behave yourself, Micky Fowler, else I’m off. Besides, what are you doing on Vince’s stall? I thought you didn’t work for him any more? I thought you’ve been with Albie since you came back?’

  Micky sobered at once. ‘I am, an’ I mean to keep me job with him, but we all help each other out now and again and Albie sent me across here this morning. Now let’s see if we can find this machine . . .’

  Later than evening, Micky struggled to Polly’s home with the sewing machine. He set it on the table.

  ‘Albie says Selina’ll come round in the morning and get you going.’

  Polly fingered the curve of the wooden case lovingly.

  There was silence between them until Polly looked up and found Micky watching her. ‘Are you all right, Poll?’ he asked softly.

  She forced a smile. ‘I’m fine.’

  He sighed and shook his head. ‘You can’t fool me, Polly. I’ve known you – and loved you – for a long time. Remember?’

  ‘Micky, don’t. Please don’t.’

  ‘It’s all right, I’m not going to embarrass you. I just want you to be happy, Poll. That’s all. Once, I was as jealous as hell of Leo and the way you loved him, but now I’d give anything to see you happy with him. Why don’t you – ?’

  She put up her hand as if to ward him off and said yet again, ‘Please don’t, Micky.’

  He said no more, but after he’d gone Polly was left feeling even more lonely and unsettled.

  Everyone was telling her that she and Leo should make up, but since Roland’s death the one person who’d been nowhere near her was Leo.

  It was the end of September when he finally came to see her, almost six months after Roland’s death.

  ‘How are you, Poll? Though I don’t really need to ask. I’ve been kept well informed.’

  ‘Really? Who by?’

  He gave a sideways grin. ‘Oh, just about everybody you could think of.’ He ticked them off on his fingers. ‘My mother for a start, then your dad, Violet – even Micky. And Stevie and Miriam weren’t to be left out either, and then there’s been – ’

  ‘Stop, stop!’ She put her hands over her ears, laughing. When she lowered them she was serious again. ‘But I did wonder why you didn’t come yourself.’

  He sat down uninvited as he said quietly, ‘I thought it best. I had to wait a decent interval, Poll – you know that – and I’m sure you feel the same. But now it’s time we had a good talk and – ’ he took a deep breath – ‘and I told you what it was that Roland said to me.’

  Slowly, she sat down too and waited, her fingers twisting in her lap.

  ‘He was so very sorry for what had happened between you when he first came home after the war and, by the end, Poll, he was the old Roland.’

  She nodded as tears constricted her throat.

  ‘All his concern was not for himself but for you and for Jacob. He regretted that he hardly knew his son and that too, he said, had been his own fault. He could have come home on leave a few times, and when the war ended he could have made more effort, he said, to get close to the boy, but he’d been so wrapped up in his own depression that he’d no thought for anyone else. Not you, not Jacob – not anyone.’

  Still Polly said nothing.

  ‘But, like I say, at the end there he was thinking of you both. He – he told me that you’d been a wonderful wife to him, even though he’d always known that you couldn’t love him in the same way that he loved you. But he said you’d devoted yourself to him and to making him happy.’

  Polly gave a sob and pressed her hand to her mouth.

  ‘He knew that you loved someone else. He – he knew you loved me and all he wanted was for you to be happy after he’d gone. He asked me if I still cared for you and I told him I still loved you with all my heart and I always would.’

  Tears now ra
n down Polly’s face, but Leo went on, ‘“Then marry her with my blessing and take care of my son,” he said.’

  Polly buried her face in her hands and wept openly. Now Leo moved across the space between them and knelt by her side. ‘Polly, my dearest, darling Polly, will you marry me?’

  For some time, Polly could not speak and then she heard herself saying, ‘I can’t, I can’t.’

  ‘Why not, darling? You do still love me, don’t you?’

  ‘You know I do.’

  ‘Then why? Are you afraid of the gossips, because – ?’

  ‘No, no. I – I just feel so guilty that I brought the flu to the house, that he caught it off me.’

  ‘Oh, darling.’ Leo was actually laughing, confident he could allay her fears, but they were far too deeply embedded to be brushed away so lightly.

  The guilt of years, the blame she’d carried for most of her young life, would not allow Polly to let herself be happy. She could forgive others, but she couldn’t forgive herself.

  Seventy

  ‘You’re being ridiculous,’ Violet stormed at her. ‘You’ll lose him for good if you don’t watch out. Even Leo won’t wait for ever. How he’s waited this long for you, I don’t know. I’d have found mesen someone else years ago.’

  Polly smiled weakly, but still Violet couldn’t persuade her. None of them could.

  Nelly had her say too. ‘If you’re bothered about the Hetty Fowlers and the Ida Nortons of this world, then you can forget them, duck. We all know them for what they are.’ She snorted with laughter. ‘Even Bert knows what his wife’s like. Why, he said to me the other night in the pub, “When do you reckon there’s going to be wedding bells, then?” Now would he say that if half the neighbourhood weren’t expecting it? And wanting it for you and Leo.’

  But Polly could not be persuaded. At last, when they’d all tried, Selina said calmly, ‘Why don’t you go up to the cathedral? It’s a lovely place to sit and think. Or go to a service on Sunday, if you like. We’ll have Jacob.’

  Polly smiled. The woman would do anything to get Jacob to herself for an hour or two.

  As she went home that evening, she paused at the end of her own street and looked up at the cathedral. She’d always wanted to see inside, but life had been so hectic she’d never made the time; now she felt drawn to it, felt the need to see for herself inside the building that stood guard over the city.

  She lay awake that night, a strange feeling of excitement that she couldn’t explain keeping sleep at bay. She didn’t fall asleep until dawn was already creeping through the new curtains that now hung at her window, thanks to Selina’s tuition with the sewing machine.

  And once again, she decided, she would take the older woman’s advice.

  Polly went alone and told no one. Jacob was playing happily at the Thorpes’ house and didn’t even ask where she was going, though she thought that Selina guessed.

  She walked along the High Street and climbed Steep Hill, the cathedral drawing her closer and closer. At last she stood in the square, staring up at the majestic building. She’d never been this close before, never even been to the top of the hill. She’d known it was big, but it towered into the sky, reaching up to heaven, Polly thought fancifully. She passed slowly through the archway and approached the huge door. From the interior, she could hear singing. She hesitated; she didn’t want to intrude upon a service. She just wanted to see inside, to sit a while and think.

  A man in clerical garb came to the door. ‘Come in, my child. You’re very welcome.’

  ‘Is there a service going on? I don’t want . . .’

  ‘No, no. It’s only choir practice. You’ll not disturb them, I promise.’

  She stepped into the cool vastness and looked about her in awe.

  ‘Your first time?’ the man asked gently. When she nodded, he chuckled. ‘It does take your breath away, doesn’t it? Now, can I help you at all?’

  Polly shook her head. ‘I – just came to see it.’

  ‘Then have a good look around, my dear, but if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered and the sound seemed to echo all around her.

  Polly wandered through archways and along the worn flagstones. She stepped into St Hugh’s choir and marvelled at the intricacy of the carved dark wooden stalls. She caught her breath at the magnificent rose windows, the smaller stained-glass windows and the stone effigies. She even searched for the imp – a stone gargoyle – and found him sitting cheekily at the top of a pillar. Then she sat down in the nave and stared around her at the vast splendour. She’d never imagined it would be so beautiful and regretted all the years that had passed when she’d revered the cathedral from afar but had never made the effort to visit it.

  She sat there for a long time, listening to the choir singing, until the cold seeped through her clothes and began to chill her. And then, without really forming proper words, proper sentences, she began to pray. It was more a feeling that crept into her, a sensation of peace enveloping her. The burden of guilt she’d carried for years slowly rolled away. Just as she had found it in her heart to forgive others, she felt herself forgiven and, most of all, she could forgive herself.

  At last she walked outside and lifted her face to the sky. She closed her eyes and revelled in the warmth of the bright September day. When she opened them and began to walk towards the archway leading to the top of Steep Hill, she saw a familiar figure leaning against the stone wall. She caught her breath and her steps faltered. He made no move, but his gaze was fastened on her face. Oblivious of everyone around them, Polly walked slowly towards him until she stood only a few feet away. Then she lifted her chin and said, ‘I love you, Leo Halliday. And, yes, I will marry you.’

  He pushed himself off the wall, strode towards her and swept her into a crushing embrace, raining kisses on her upturned face. She laughed and clung to him, returning his kisses.

  Gone were all her doubts, gone was all the misery of the past few years. Laughing, and with their arms around each other, they walked to the top of the hill and paused to look down over the city.

  ‘We’ve all been through so much,’ Leo murmured, sweeping his arm wide as if to embrace the city they both loved. ‘But we’re the lucky ones. We’ve survived. We’ll never forget those we’ve lost, but we’ve so much to look forward to now.’ He turned towards her and cupped her face with both his hands. ‘And we’ll never let anything or anyone come between us ever again.’

  ‘No, we won’t,’ Polly breathed, her face alight with a newfound joy at the thought of the happiness to come.

  Forgive and Forget

  Born in Gainsborough, Lincolnshire, Margaret Dickinson moved to the coast at the age of seven and so began her love for the sea and the Lincolnshire landscape.

  Her ambition to be a writer began early and she had her first novel published at the age of twenty-five. This was followed by twenty-four further titles including Plough the Furrow, Sow the Seed and Reap the Harvest, which make up her Lincolnshire Fleethaven trilogy. Many of her novels are set in the heart of her home county, but in Tangled Threads and Twisted Strands the stories included not only Lincolnshire but also the framework knitting and lace industries of Nottingham. The Workhouse Museum at Southwell in Nottinghamshire inspired Without Sin and the magnificent countryside of Derbyshire and the fascinating town of Macclesfield in Cheshire formed the backdrop for the story of Pauper’s Gold. Wish Me Luck returned to Lincolnshire once more and the county was also the setting for Sing as We Go. Part of the story in Suffragette Girl took place in Davos, Switzerland, but Sons and Daughters was set solely in the flat marshlands near the East Coast. Forgive and Forget centres on the rich history of the beautiful city of Lincoln.

  www.margaret-dickinson.co.uk

  ALSO BY MARGARET DICKINSON

  Plough the Furrow

  Sow the Seed

  Reap the Harvest

  The Miller’s Daughter

  Chaff upon the Wind

&nbs
p; The Fisher Lass

  The Tulip Girl

  The River Folk

  Tangled Threads

  Twisted Strands

  Red Sky in the Morning

  Without Sin

  Pauper’s Gold

  Wish Me Luck

  Sing as We Go

  Suffragette Girl

  Sons and Daughters

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  The characters in my story are entirely fictitious, but I do like to place them in real events. The research for this novel has been fascinating and I have learned so much more about the city I have always loved.

  My grateful thanks to Ann Yeates-Langley (formerly Wright) for all her wonderful help with some of the background material for this story. Ann is the co-author, along with Christopher Bray and Kirsty Grantham, of The Enemy in Our Midst, the Story of Lincoln’s Typhoid Epidemic.

  I am also indebted to the Lincolnshire Chronicle newspapers of the time, which gave a wealth of factual information on all the events.

  I would also like to thank the staff of the Museum of Lincolnshire Life in Lincoln, Lincoln Central Library, Lincolnshire Archives and Skegness Library for their wonderful help with my research. Thank you all.

  And last, but never least, my love and thanks to those members of my family and friends who read and comment on the scripts. Your help is invaluable and always appreciated.

  First published 2011 by Pan Books

  This electronic edition published 2011 by Pan Books

  an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited

  Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR

  Basingstoke and Oxford

  Associated companies throughout the world

  www.panmacmillan.com

  ISBN 978-1-447-20085-7 PDF

  ISBN 978-1-447-20067-3 EPUB