The Pride of Polly Perkins

by Joan Jonker

  John stood in the doorway watching the women double up with laughter. Aggie he loved dearly, she was part of his life. But Fanny, only the size of sixpennyworth of copper, was fast catching up in his affections.

  The Mitchells were the first to arrive and Steve was goggle-eyed when he saw Polly in her green velvet dress, set off by the link of pearls. He thought she looked beautiful, but he couldn’t rid himself of a niggling jealousy.

  ‘My God, girl, yer look a proper toff,’ Dolly said. ‘Turn around an’ let’s have a good look at yer.’

  Her face beaming, Polly did a spin. ‘Isn’t it lovely, Auntie Dolly?’

  ‘It certainly is. They didn’t buy that from Paddy’s market!’ Dolly glanced at her son. ‘Doesn’t she look a treat?’

  ‘Yeah, she looks all right.’

  Dolly opened her mouth to ask if that was the best he could come up with, but the words never left her lips. Hadn’t she been thinking the same thoughts as she guessed were going through her son’s mind now? That Polly was going up in the world and it was difficult to imagine her wanting to go back to the life she knew.

  Ada looked anxious as she pulled Dolly to one side. ‘Was our Joey all right when yer left him with your Clare? I feel dead mean not letting him come to his sister’s birthday party, but he goes to bed every night at six o’clock; he wouldn’t be able to keep awake until ten, or whatever time the party finishes. And it’s school tomorrow, too!’

  ‘He was fine, girl, so don’t be worrying. I told him if he went to bed like a good boy for our Clare, you’d bring him loads of stuff home.’

  ‘I will, too. And Polly’s going to see him tomorrow, so that’ll make him happy. We’ll have to have a bit of a do for his birthday so he won’t feel left out.’ Ada turned to her daughter. ‘Polly, will you take the coats into the bedroom, sunshine, while I show Auntie Dolly the table?’

  Polly nodded, then handed Mr Mitchell’s overcoat to Steve. ‘You carry that an’ I’ll take your mam’s.’

  As soon as they were in the bedroom, Steve asked, ‘Who bought yer the beads?’

  ‘Justin gave them to me.’ Polly fingered the link of pearls. ‘They’re nice, aren’t they?’

  ‘What did he give yer them for?’ Steve asked, anger and jealousy fighting for supremacy. ‘He hasn’t got his eye on yer, has he?’

  Polly giggled at the thought. ‘No, we’re mates, that’s all.’ Then she saw how flushed his face was, and the hurt look in his eyes didn’t escape her notice. If she’d known he would be upset, she wouldn’t have worn the blinking necklace. ‘It’s only a cheap one – he probably bought it at Woolworths.’

  ‘I don’t know why he had to buy yer anything! If he starts gettin’ fresh with yer, I’ll thump him one.’

  ‘Justin wouldn’t know how to get fresh with a girl, he’s very young for his age. Yer’ll see for yerself when he comes tonight, he’s just a nice lad.’ Polly moved closer and smiled up at him. ‘Anyway, aren’t yer forgetting something? I’ve already got a boyfriend and I’ll never swap him for anyone else. These,’ she lifted the necklace, ‘don’t mean as much to me as your birthday present did. You gave me a lovely night out, a night I’ll remember all me life.’ Her brown eyes twinkled. ‘And the best part was me first kiss.’

  That brought a smile to Steve’s face. ‘I couldn’t get to sleep last night thinkin’ about it. Is there any chance of pinching one now, so I’ll have something to think about in bed tonight?’

  Polly glanced towards the open door. ‘It’ll have to be short and sweet.’

  The kiss was short, but it was sweet enough to satisfy Steve and restore him to good humour. A fact that wasn’t lost on his mother. She knew how her son felt about Polly, had always felt, and she didn’t want to see him hurt. In fact, even though she loved the girl as if she was her own daughter, Dolly determined that if she ever let their Steve down after leading him on, Polly wouldn’t half get a piece of her mind.

  Fanny came panting up the stairs. ‘There’s two women at the door, said their names are Sarah Jane and Irish Mary.’

  Polly clapped her hands in delight. ‘Why didn’t yer bring them up?’

  ‘Because I couldn’t get them both on me back! Ooh, yer daft nit!’ Fanny jerked her head in disgust. ‘That Mary will make it up here, but there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell of the old lady climbin’ all those stairs. She needs a couple of strong men to help her.’

  Steve was already on his way down, shouting over his shoulder, ‘Come on, Dad, give us a hand.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ John said. He’d heard so much about Sarah Jane, he couldn’t wait to meet her. ‘We’ll get a chair out of the downstairs office for her sit on and we’ll carry her up.’

  Sarah Jane, wearing her uniform of long black skirt, cream blouse and black woollen shawl, was acting shy. ‘Hello, sir, are you the Mr John I’ve heard so much about? I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.’

  Standing near, Mary closed her eyes. This was a side to the old lady she’d never seen and she wondered how long it would last. She’d give it ten minutes at the most.

  John took the old lady’s hand and smiled. She was everything Polly had said. A heavily lined face, toothless gums, hair scraped back and held in place with a tortoise-shell comb and spotlessly clean. A typical Liverpool Mary Ellen, and he had an artist friend who would just love to paint her. He’d ask Walter the next time he saw him, John thought, and if the old lady was agreeable, he’d commission the painting for himself.

  Steve came out of the office with a chair. ‘Here you are, Sarah Jane. Sit yerself down and we’ll carry yer up.’

  Les Mitchell winked at the old lady as he bent to grip one of the chair legs. ‘I’ve heard of people being carried around, but this takes the cake, this does.’

  Sarah Jane caught her breath when her feet left the ground. She grabbed hold of Steve’s shoulder for support and shrieked, ‘If I fall off here an’ break me bleedin’ neck, I’ll have yer guts for garters. D’yer hear what I said, lad?’

  ‘Sarah Jane, the whole street heard yer!’ Steve chuckled. ‘If yer fell an’ broke yer neck, yer’d have a hard time havin’ me guts for garters, wouldn’t yer?’

  ‘Don’t be givin’ me cheek, lad, or I’ll clock yer one. And don’t be looking up me skirt, either. If yer so interested, I’ve got me pale blue fleecy-lined bloomers on.’

  There’s going to be some fun tonight, John thought, bringing up the rear with Mary. Wait till Aggie and Fanny get together with this one! As she walked beside him, Mary was thinking, this poor man doesn’t know what he’s let himself in for.

  And while both their minds were on her, Sarah Jane was secretly enjoying herself. Her eyes were everywhere. It’s like a bleedin’ palace, she thought, and I’m being carried through it as though I was a queen. Just wait till I get to the pub tomorrow night and tell them. I bet they won’t believe me! Still, if they don’t they can sod off.

  Rebecca Denholme heard the front door slam and ran to the window to make sure her parents and brother were on their way to the stupid party. The fuss that everyone had made over Polly Perkins’s birthday, anyone would think she was somebody important, instead of a common flower-seller. But she wouldn’t be so highly thought of after tonight, not when they found she was a liar and a thief.

  Rebecca moved away from the window and walked to the ornate fireplace, her eyes on the small, fragile, beautifully crafted china figurine on the mantelpiece. It was her mother’s favourite – a slim girl with long flowing hair and a pink ballgown swirling around her ankles. When they discovered it was missing in the morning, the whole house would be in an uproar, her mother distraught. But it wouldn’t be missing for long because her father would be so angry he’d have the house searched. And they’d find it in Polly’s bedroom, in a drawer in the tallboy, hidden under clothes. This time tomorrow the thorn in Rebecca’s flesh would be gone, driven out by her father who wouldn’t tolerate a thief.

  With the figurine held close to he
r side in case Mrs Nightingale chose this time to come and build up the fire, Rebecca crept up the stairs feeling elated. She’d waited a long time for this but tomorrow her patience would be rewarded. She was so deep in thought she didn’t hear the front door opening, and when her name was called she nearly fell backwards off the top stair.

  ‘Steady on, Rebecca, you very nearly toppled over.’ Justin walked to the foot of the stairs and smiled at his sister. He’d been annoyed with her earlier when she’d flatly refused to go to the party, but he wasn’t one for harbouring ill feelings. ‘You haven’t been at Father’s port, by any chance?’

  With her hand behind her back, Rebecca ignored the jest and asked, ‘What are you doing back?’

  ‘Father forgot his cigar case, and you know how grumpy he can get if he hasn’t a cigar to chew on.’

  ‘I don’t know why he bothered to send you back for it, he’ll be home very soon. There’s no way he and Mother will be able to stand those dreadful people.’

  Justin sighed, unwilling to get involved in that argument again. Rebecca could be quite tiring at times. ‘Good night, sister dear.’ He spun on his heels and went into the drawing room. He found the cigar case on the small side table where his father had said it would be, picked it up and slipped in into his pocket. When he reached the door, he turned to look back in the room, a puzzled expression on his face. Then he shrugged his shoulders and reminded himself that his parents would be waiting for him at the corner of the street.

  The atmosphere at the party was very stiff and formal, and Ada groaned with dismay. The three Denholmes were seated on the couch, and facing them were the ones she called her gang. This included the Mitchells, Aggie and Fanny and Sarah Jane and Mary. Conversation between the two groups was so stilted it was agonising. John was doing his best, as was Charles, but they were fighting a losing battle. And so it stayed until Sarah Jane, Mary, and Aggie and Fanny were on their fourth bottle of stout.

  ‘Give us a song, Mr John.’ Aggie waved her glass at him. ‘Liven the place up.’

  ‘What would you like, Agnes?’ John felt like kissing her for starting the ball rolling. ‘How about Come into the Garden, Maud?’

  ‘Sod off, Mr John! It’s supposed to be a party, not a bleedin’ wake!’

  Charles could feel his tummy shaking with suppressed laughter. He turned his head to see Victoria’s mouth gaping and her eyes wide. He gave her a gentle dig and whispered, ‘Sit back and enjoy it, my darling. I think the fun is about to begin.’

  Hearing a few swearwords, and with four bottles of stout down her, Sarah Jane was now convinced she was amongst friends. ‘I’ll sing a little ditty for yer.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Can we have a bit of hush now for the singer.’ Again she cleared her throat before starting, ‘Oh, Auntie Mary had a canary, up the leg of her drawers …’

  Her mouth covered by Mary’s hand, Sarah Jane rolled her eyes. Her muffled cry of, ‘Are yer tryin’ to bleedin’ suffocate me?’ brought forth a burst of laughter which included Victoria’s and Justin’s. At last the ice had been broken.

  Mary took her hand away. ‘Will yer be after behavin’ yerself, Sarah Jane. Yer not at the pub now.’

  ‘God strewth!’ The old lady feigned anger. ‘If I’d have had any teeth, they’d have been down me throat by now.’ In an instant her mood changed to one of sweetness and light. She smiled across at Victoria and said, ‘Excuse me language, madam, I don’t often swear but there are times when it just slips out.’ After a nod of her head, she turned to Mary. ‘If yer won’t let me sing, then get up an’ give a turn yerself. I bet yer can’t sing a ruddy note!’

  ‘Is that right now.’ Mary bristled as she got to her feet. ‘Wasn’t it meself that was in the church choir back home?’

  Sarah Jane screwed her face up. ‘If yer start singin’ a hymn, girl, so help me I’ll drown yer out with Auntie Mary an’ her ruddy canary!’

  Mary waited until the laughter subsided, then feeling too nervous to face her audience, she fixed her gaze on a picture hanging on the wall. In a voice that rang sweet and clear, she silenced and captivated those who were now listening with admiration and wonder.

  ‘Oh Mary, this London’s a wonderful sight,

  With the people here working by day and by night.

  They don’t sow potatoes nor barley nor wheat,

  But there’s gangs of them digging for gold in the street.

  At least when I asked them, that’s what I was told,

  So I just took a hand in this digging for gold.

  But for all that I found there, I might as well be,

  Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.’

  When the song was finished, Mary lowered her head in embarrassment. But the thunderous applause and the shouts of ‘Encore!’ brought a smile of delight to her handsome face. She had discarded her shawl for the party and was looking a fine figure of a woman in her form-fitting chocolate-coloured dress. ‘Sure, that wasn’t me singing, it was the four bottles of stout.’

  ‘Then give her another one, Mr John,’ Aggie called. ‘It was a real treat, that was.’

  ‘As long as he doesn’t give her one of mine,’ Sarah Jane said, her face creased in a smile. She leaned forward to pat Mary’s arm and her voice was sincere when she told her, ‘Yer’ve been blessed with a fine voice, girl, one I could listen to all night. I’d be beholden to yer if yer’d give us another song.’

  ‘Uh, oh!’ Mary shook her head. ‘Let someone else have a go.’

  Heads turned as eyes sought a likely victim. It was Victoria who spoke first. ‘How about you, Charles? You haven’t got a bad voice.’

  Charles roared with laughter. ‘Victoria, my darling, if they don’t like John’s Come into the Garden, Maud, what do you think they’d say about my rendition of We’ll Gather Lilacs in the Spring Again?’

  Dolly was hugging the laughter to herself, wondering whether she dared say what she was thinking. But what the hell, it was only a joke. ‘We’d tell yer to sod off an’ put yer bleedin’ lilacs in water before they died off.’

  His shoulders shaking, Charles turned to find Victoria’s eyes brimming with laughter. ‘I did warn you, my darling.’

  ‘Oh, Charles,’ she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, ‘I haven’t laughed so much in my life.’

  And neither had Justin. He couldn’t take his eyes off Sarah Jane. At first he’d been disappointed. All he saw was an old lady with a lined face, no teeth and who spoke with a thick Liverpool accent. He couldn’t understand why Polly loved her so much. But it wasn’t long before he was seeing her in a different light. Her lined face was full of character, her eyes, when not twinkling with laughter, were tender and told of the compassionate nature she had. And as for her Liverpool accent, well, that was part of her. Her jokes wouldn’t be jokes if they were told in a posh voice. He wished he was as outgoing as Polly, because then he could do what he felt the urge to do, go over and give the old lady a big hug.

  ‘Ay, Ada,’ Dolly shouted, ‘get my feller on his feet, he can sing.’

  ‘Not on your life!’ Les shook his head vigorously. ‘I’m not makin’ a fool of meself.’

  Sarah Jane started clapping her hands, chanting, ‘We want Les, we want Les.’

  Pretty soon everyone in the room joined in, making a real racket. Dolly gave Ada the eye-eye, and they advanced upon the poor man. He was pulled, protesting loudly, to his feet. ‘Now,’ said Dolly, in a whisper loud enough for everyone to hear, ‘sing, yer bugger, sing.’

  ‘Ah, ray! I only know one song!’

  ‘That’s all we want, son.’ Sarah Jane winked at him. ‘As long as it’s clean enough for my delicate ears. Don’t forget I was brought up in a strict Catholic household.’

  Polly, sitting on the floor next to Steve, felt her cup of happiness was overflowing. This was turning into a party of fun and laughter, with everyone enjoying themselves. Her fears about Mrs Denholme and Justin had proved groundless; they were joining in the fun with gusto.


  Les, his face the colour of beetroot, glanced across at his wife and shook his fist at her. ‘Just wait till I get you home.’

  ‘Ooh, er!’ Dolly feigned coyness. ‘Don’t embarrass me in front of me friends, sweetheart. Try and control yer passion until we’re somewhere more private, but don’t squash it altogether, not now yer’ve made a promise.’

  Ada decided it was time to steer the conversation away from the direction Dolly was taking it. ‘Les, what about this song?’

  ‘Okay, you asked for it. I’ve told yer I can’t sing, so on your own head be it.’ Planting his feet apart and looking up at the ceiling, he began.

  ‘Two little girls in blue, lad,

  Two little girls in blue.

  They were sisters, we were brothers,

  And learned to love the two.

  Then one little girl in blue, lad,

  Won your father’s heart,

  She became your mother,

  I married the other

  And now we have drifted apart.’

  Les had a pleasant voice and the song was well received, but he sat down vowing never to go through that again. And if looks could kill, Dolly would have been a dead duck. But his wife wasn’t put off by a dirty look. She came over and clasped his head to her ample bosom, saying, ‘I’m proud of yer, my little ray of sunshine. Now, if we can get our Steve on his feet, the three of us can give a duet.’

  ‘Some hopes you’ve got, Mam,’ Steve huffed. ‘Anyway, a duet’s for two people, not three.’

  ‘Go ’way!’ Dolly let her eyes sweep across the smiling faces. ‘Yer see, the Mitchells are not only good singers, they’re clever as well.’

  Ada joined in the laughter as she made her way across to where John was standing. ‘It’s nine o’clock – shall I carry the food in or would it be better if they helped themselves?’

  John had deliberately kept his distance all evening, but now he looked at her with longing in his eyes. ‘Whatever you like, my … er, Ada.’

  ‘I’ll make the tea while you lead them to the dining room. The plates and serviettes are all ready, they can just help themselves.’