The Pride of Polly Perkins

by Joan Jonker

  Polly’s heart felt lighter as she walked the short distance from Percy Street to Faulkner Square. Once she’d got it all off her chest, her mam would advise her and everything would work out fine.

  She was surprised to find the front door ajar, then noticed that the front steps had not long been scrubbed, so Fanny was probably in the kitchen. She thought about calling out to announce her arrival, but decided against it. If the little woman saw her she’d keep her talking and Polly didn’t want to waste any precious time. So she ran lightly up the stairs and made her way to the drawing room where she could hear voices. There was a greeting on her lips but it was never uttered as she took in the intimacy of the scene before her. Mr John had his arms around her mam and was stroking her hair as he whispered words Polly was too shocked to hear. She felt as though she’d been turned to stone, horrified at what she was seeing. For what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was merely a few seconds, she was rooted to the spot, unable to move or speak. She wanted to run towards the couple who were unaware of her presence, to scream and hit out at them, tell them they were wicked and she hated them for what they were doing when her dad was lying in hospital. But her feet refused to move and her mouth stayed silent. Then her stomach started to churn and she knew she was going to be sick. So she forced herself to quietly walk along the hall, down the stairs and out into the street. Her head was thumping as she hurried to the nearest side entry, and once out of sight, she bent double and retched until her tummy and throat ached. She tried to blot out the picture of her mam in Mr John’s arms, but it wouldn’t go away, it was imprinted on her mind. She thought of her poor dad in hospital, and at that moment came the hatred for the man and woman she’d seen wrapped in each other’s arms. She’d never speak to them again, didn’t ever want to set eyes on them. Ten minutes later she emerged from the entry, white-faced and red-eyed, but with her head held high.

  ‘Have yer got a cold?’ Steve asked, his face anxious as he gazed at Polly. ‘Yer eyes are all red and puffy.’

  ‘Yeah, they’ve been running all day, and me nose.’ Polly had decided not to tell a soul what she’d seen. She felt so sad, so let-down and lost, but the secret would stay with her. The only emotion she could feel for her mother was one of disgust, but she was still her mother and she wasn’t going to discuss her with anyone, not even Steve.

  ‘I don’t want to stay out long, Steve, ’cos I don’t feel so good. I’ll get Mrs Nightingale to make me a hot drink and go to bed early.’

  ‘Have yer told the Denholmes yet that yer leaving?’

  Polly knew the question would come and had been dreading it. She didn’t want to live at home now, not after what she’d seen tonight. Every time she looked at her mother she’d see her in Mr John’s arms and she couldn’t live with that. Not without making her feelings of abhorrence known. To pretend everything was all right would be living a lie and Polly knew she could never do that. The only thing that would take her back home now was if her dad came out of hospital.

  ‘No, I haven’t said anything yet. In fact, Steve, I think I’ll stay on a bit longer. I like it there, they’re very good to me, so why leave a place I like to go and work in a factory?’

  Steve put a hand on her arm and pulled her to a stop. ‘But you promised, Polly! You can’t go back on a promise. I’ve been looking forward to seeing yer every night, counting the flippin’ days.’ He was so disappointed and hurt he was near to tears. ‘Anyway, what’s wrong with workin’ in a factory? Do yer think yer too good for that now?’

  ‘No, of course not! I’m not a snob, Steve Mitchell!’

  ‘Then why won’t yer come home? If you asked me to do something, and I was able to, then I’d do it ’cos of the way I feel about yer. I thought yer felt the same about me.’

  ‘I do, Steve, honest. And I will come home – but give me a bit more time, that’s all I ask.’

  ‘No, Polly, you made a promise and I want yer to keep it.’ Hurt and jealousy were two of the emotions Steve was feeling. Hurt because she was letting him down, jealousy because he believed the longer she stayed with the Denholmes, the more chance there was of losing her. She’d get so used to living the good life she’d never settle down again in a two-up two-down terrace house. And that is all he’d ever be able to offer her. ‘Come home, Polly, please?’

  Polly came very near then to telling him the real reason why she didn’t want to live at home any more, but something kept her back. ‘It cuts both ways, yer know, Steve. You want me to give in to you, but you won’t give in to me, will yer? I’m only asking for a bit more time.’

  Steve shook his head. ‘The longer yer stay there, the less chance there is of yer ever leaving. Yer’ve changed already, can’t yer see that? Now yer think yer too good to work in a factory. Next thing, yer’ll be thinkin’ yer too good for me.’

  Polly closed her eyes. This was the worst day in her life. But she had to hold out, she couldn’t bear the thought of having to face her mam every day, knowing what she did. ‘I never said I was too good to work in a factory, Steve, and I certainly don’t think I’m too good for you. Ever since we were kids I’ve known there was something special between us and I still feel the same. You are the only boy I’ve ever wanted, or will want.’

  ‘But yer still won’t come home?’ Steve’s eyes were begging. In his mind’s eye he could see Polly on her birthday dressed up in the finery bought by the Denholmes. And he could see Justin in his suit of fine wool, the likes of which Steve would never be able to afford. ‘Not for my sake, Polly?’

  ‘I could ask you the same thing, Steve. Give it a bit longer, just for my sake.’

  Steve shook his head. He was so hurt he wanted to hit out. ‘No, Polly, I won’t give it a bit longer. You either keep your promise or that’s it, we’re through.’

  ‘Oh, you can’t say that, Steve!’

  ‘I’ve said it and I mean it. Are you coming home for Easter, Polly, or not?’

  ‘Can’t we talk about it another time, Steve? I don’t feel very well right now.’

  ‘No, no more talking. Yer’ve been fobbing me off for weeks. You and me are finished.’ Steve turned on his heels. ‘Goodbye, Polly.’

  Polly watched him walk away, tears streaming down her face. She wanted to run after him, promise him the earth, but pride and her mother’s secret held her back. And because she needed to vent her anger on someone, she placed the blame on her mother’s shoulders. The woman she’d always idolised, who she thought could do no wrong.

  Ada was on her knees dusting the carved spindles of the staircase when John came on to the landing. ‘I’m going out for a few hours, Ada, but I’ll be home for dinner.’ He usually stopped to chat for a few minutes, tell her where he was going and why, but today he volunteered no information and after a brief wave he was on his way. It crossed Ada’s mind that he appeared distant, as though he had something on his mind, but she put it down to him having an important appointment to keep.

  John tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he drive through County Road and Rice Lane towards Fazakerley. Whether he was doing the right thing remained to be seen, but to him there was no alternative. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t do all in his power to stop the anguish that Ada was suffering and had suffered for so long. He turned into the hospital gates, telling himself he wanted Ada more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life before, but the price was too high. He wasn’t so selfish he would wish another man dead so he could have his wife.

  The nurse looked surprised to see him. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but it’s not visiting time.’

  ‘I am aware of that, my dear, but I would like to see Mr Perkins on a very important matter.’

  His air of confidence and his impeccable attire swayed the nurse. ‘I’ll have to ask Matron but I’m sure it’ll be all right.’

  With a stern look on her face, Matron eyed John up and down. ‘You may see Mr Perkins but I must ask that you don’t stay too long. He is very weak and tires quick
ly.’

  Tommy was lying flat on his back staring at the ceiling when he heard the nurse talking. He turned his head on the pillow to see her walking down the ward with a man by her side. There was something vaguely familiar about the man’s face but Tommy thought he must be imagining things; the well-dressed stranger certainly wouldn’t be coming to see him. So he was surprised and curious when the pair stopped at the foot of his bed and the nurse told him, ‘You have a visitor, Mr Perkins.’

  ‘You may not remember me, Mr Perkins, it’s many years since we met. I’m John Roscoe – does that ring a bell?’

  ‘I thought yer looked familiar but I couldn’t place yer. Now I know, yer our landlord and me wife works for yer.’

  When Tommy tried to sit up the nurse moved quickly to help. She propped him up on the pillows and gently warned, ‘Don’t overdo it, Mr Perkins, take it easy.’ She smiled at John before hurrying to catch up on her duties.

  ‘Have yer been visitin’ someone in here, Mr Roscoe?’ Tommy asked, looking puzzled. He couldn’t think of any other reason for the man to be here.

  John shook his head. ‘No, I came to see you. But it’s not very comfortable standing, so shall I fetch one of those chairs?’

  Tommy waited until John was settled, then asked, ‘There’s nothing wrong with Ada or the kids, is there, Mr Roscoe?’

  ‘No, they’re fine.’ John ran a finger around the crown of the bowler hat he was holding between his hands. ‘Before I tell you why I’m here, I would be grateful if we could dispense with formalities. I’m John and you’re Tommy, is that all right with you?’

  ‘It suits me.’ Interest was beginning to stir in Tommy. What the hell had the bloke come for?

  ‘I believe Ada will have told you the circumstances under which she came to work for me so I won’t go over those details again. My real reason for coming to see you is to set the records straight. I want you to hear me through without forming any conclusion until I have finished what I came to say. Will you do that, Tommy?’

  ‘Yer’ve got me fair flummoxed, John, but yes, I’ll listen to yer.’

  John sighed. ‘This isn’t easy for me but I’m doing it for Ada’s sake, and the children.’ He held Tommy’s gaze. ‘Yesterday, I held your wife in my arms and I kissed her.’ He heard the sharp intake of breath and held up his hand. ‘Please hear me out. I held her, as I have often done in the past, to comfort her. She was crying, and my shoulder was there for her to cry on. The last two years have been hard for Ada, worrying about you and trying to earn enough money to keep the home together. And I was also looking for comfort as my own marriage was causing me great unhappiness. So we were two people in need of comfort, warmth and companionship. We helped each other. But your wife has never betrayed you, she loves you deeply.’

  John ran a hand across his forehead, hoping his words were doing justice to the situation. ‘I am not going to lie to you. I will admit that I’m very fond of Ada – she is everything I would want in a woman. It is because I hold her in such high regard that I am here today. Her happiness is more important to me than anything else, and her happiness lies with you.’

  Tommy looked at the now bowed head. His emotions were all mixed up together, but through them all came respect for the man who had the guts to come here today and say what he had. ‘Have you finished, John?’

  ‘No, I’ve set the record straight regarding Ada and myself, but I haven’t told you why she was crying yesterday, and on many other days during the last two years. She feels that you’ve lost the will to live, that you don’t want to get better. Is that true?’

  Tommy’s head dropped back on the pillow. ‘After two and a half years in this place, anyone would lose the will to live. And what would I have to offer my family if I did get better? I’d never be able to work again. I’ll never be fit enough to do labouring, which is all I’m good for. I’d be a burden on Ada, and the children. They’d have to work to keep me, and what would that do to a man’s pride?’

  John leaned forward. ‘If that’s the way you’re thinking, Tommy, then you’ll never get better! You’ve got a wife in a million and two lovely children – isn’t that enough for you? I’d give my right arm to be in your shoes, believe me.’

  ‘It’s easy for you to talk, John, if yer don’t mind me saying so. You’ve never seen yer kids running around in second-hand clothes, never seen them shivering because there’s no money for coal to light a fire. It pulls a man down when he can’t support his family in even the bare necessities, takes his pride away, makes him feel he’s a failure. In fact, it makes him feel they’d be better off without him.’

  ‘Now you’re going to get some plain talking from me, Tommy! Don’t you know that while you’re lying here feeling worthless, your wife and kids are saying prayers every night for you to get better? They may as well save their breath because from what I’ve heard, you’ve made up your mind you’re never going to get well. Doesn’t say much for the love you profess to have for them, does it?’ John was letting his anger show. ‘You said you’ll never be able to get a job, but how do you know that? There’s plenty of light jobs you could do, if you had the mind.’

  ‘Oh, aye, and who’s going to employ someone who’s had consumption? They’d send me packing with a flea in me ear.’

  ‘I’ll give you a job,’ John said. ‘A job as a rent-collector that would have you out in the fresh air every day – just what you need.’

  ‘I don’t want yer to offer me a job out of pity.’

  ‘For God’s sake, man, why are you so stubborn? I wouldn’t offer you a job out of pity, but out of friendship. Your wife and children, and your neighbours, the Mitchells, have become like a family to me. If I offered Les Mitchell a job, d’you think he’d turn it down because he thought I was only feeling sorry for him? Not on your life he wouldn’t. He’d grab it with both hands and be thankful.’

  Tommy was silent as his thin fingers plucked at the cover on the narrow hospital bed. Then, after a thoughtful few minutes, he said, ‘Ada’s told me how good yer’ve been to her and the children. And to the Mitchells, Sarah Jane and them all. You’re a good man, John, and I’m grateful to yer. But with the best will in the world I can’t just wave a magic wand and make meself better.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting you can, Tommy. But if you start thinking positive it would help. Don’t be a defeatist, tell yourself that you’ve got a job to go to when you get home, a loving wife and two beautiful children. Make up your mind you’re going to fight this illness. Don’t be content to just lie there and die.’

  They heard loud brisk footsteps and when they looked up, Matron was marching towards the bed. ‘I think Mr Perkins is due for his nap now.’

  John stood up. ‘I’m coming, Matron, and I thank you for allowing me to see my friend. I just want one more minute and then I’ll follow you.’

  Feeling like a schoolgirl being dismissed by her teacher, the Matron meekly left them alone.

  ‘Just keep this in your mind, Tommy. Your wife has waited over two years for you. In that time she had never denied or betrayed her love for you. She needs you, so don’t let her down.’

  ‘John, did yer mean what yer said about givin’ me a job, if I ever get out of here?’

  ‘I don’t make idle promises, Tommy. Of course I meant it.’

  Tommy stuck his hand out. ‘John, ye’re a real gent.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It was a week to the day that Polly had seen her mother in the arms of Mr John and since Steve had stormed off and left her. She hadn’t seen either of them since and it had been the most miserable week of her life. Mr John had rung to say her mother was worried that she hadn’t been to see her, but she’d told Mr Charles to tell him she had a tummy upset and would go when she felt better. She couldn’t make that an excuse for much longer and she was dreading her mother coming around to see her because Polly knew she’d have to tell her the real reason … that she didn’t want to see her ever again for two-timing her sick dad.


  But although she wouldn’t let the thought linger in her mind, Polly missed her mam something terrible. It was like a continual ache in her heart. And she grieved over Steve, too. She’d toyed with the idea of going down to see Sarah Jane on Saturday, knowing he’d be there, but her pride held her back. Besides, nothing had changed; she still had no intention of going back home to live.

  The change in Polly was causing concern to everyone in the Denholme residence. Her laughter no longer rang out, and when she forced a smile it didn’t reach her eyes. She looked pale and drawn and showed little enthusiasm for her work in the house or in the classroom.

  While Polly sat on her bed feeling alone and unloved, Charles and Victoria were discussing her in the drawing room. ‘There is definitely something worrying the child, Charles, but what?’

  ‘I don’t know, my love, I wish I did. When I ask, she says she’s all right. I can hardly force her to tell me anything against her will.’

  ‘I know she hasn’t been going out on her nights off, which means she hasn’t been seeing her boyfriend.’ Victoria fingered the amber necklace she was wearing as she crossed her shapely legs. ‘I wonder if they’ve had a tiff and she’s pining?’

  ‘I should think there’s more to it than that,’ Charles said. ‘She hasn’t been to see her mother for a week, and that’s most unusual. I find the whole situation very odd.’

  ‘Another thought, Charles – perhaps she’s worrying about her father. Why don’t you ask if she’d like to see him? I’m sure the hospital would allow a short visit.’

  ‘I really don’t know whether that would be a good thing or not, my darling. She was distressed last time she saw him, remember?’

  ‘I still think it’s worth a try,’ Victoria insisted. ‘She is such a delightful child I don’t like to see her so unhappy.’

  ‘I agree we must do something. We can’t let things ride or she will make herself ill.’ Charles stubbed his cigar out in the heavy glass ashtray. ‘Ring for Lucy and ask her to bring Polly down.’