by Val Wood
Polly couldn’t believe her good fortune. She had been given a puppy and a pony. Her cup of happiness overflowed. If you could onny see me, Ma, she thought, and a lump came into her throat. Did you have to die to allow me all this? She put her hand to her face and still the tears flowed down her cheeks.
Clementina saw them and her face softened. ‘I felt the same when I was given my first pony,’ she said. ‘But I was only seven.’
Rosalie saw and understood. For her it was different. It was an adventure and not one she would have enjoyed if she had stayed in Hull.
‘Can we try now, Clementina?’ she asked. ‘No time like the present.’
‘Mm. Not sure if I can teach you both at the same time,’ she said.
‘I’ve got half an hour,’ Howard said. ‘What if you lead Rosalie, Clemmie, and I’ll take Polly?’
‘Yes, all right; although they’re not dressed for riding. You’ll need a proper riding habit, Rosalie. I’ll show you a catalogue later and you can choose something suitable. And we only have one pommel saddle, so—’ She glanced at Polly. ‘You’ll have to manage on an ordinary one and use longer stirrups.’
The horses were led to a mounting block and they were helped to mount. They were led round and round the yard to get the feel and motion of the ponies and both took deep exhilarated breaths.
‘Well done, ladies,’ Luke called to them, coming into the yard. ‘You’re doing well.’
‘Take me to him,’ Polly said to Howard.
‘Take him yourself,’ Howard said, and unfastened the leading rein. ‘Walk him over, nice and steady.’
Polly did so and pulled on the reins as she drew up next to Luke. Hero stopped and nuzzled into Luke’s outstretched hand.
‘I don’t know how to thank you, Mr Kingston,’ she said unsteadily. ‘I’m so grateful.’
He smiled up at her. ‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘If you’re going to be a country girl you must learn to ride. It was Anna who suggested that you both should have a horse, and’ – he leaned across to whisper – ‘she thought it would give Clemmie an interest teaching you both to ride.’
I don’t think she wants to teach me, Polly thought, but she nodded and expressed her thanks again. Then she dug in one heel and clicked her tongue, and to her delight and amazement Hero wheeled round and moved towards Howard.
‘Well done!’ he laughed. ‘You’ll be riding on the moor before the week’s out.’
Howard was right. Very soon they were out on the moor, Polly riding with abandon, exhibiting no finesse but possessing a surety which came naturally. Even Clemmie admitted that she was a natural and unafraid. Rosalie on the other hand carefully developed a sure seat, a straight back and an elegant posture.
They chose their puppies, which soon began to know them and greeted them with high-pitched yapping whenever they approached. Anna said that once they were house trained they would be allowed in the house, but not in the bedrooms, she emphasized, much to Polly’s disappointment.
They began to explore the moors, each day riding out a little further. They rode north to the top of Fylingdale Moor, on one occasion making a detour to visit the standing stone, Old Wife’s Neck, which Polly said she just had to see, even though Clementina said it was only a bit of old stone.
The early summer was warm and dry and occasionally they took food with them and stayed out all day, on one occasion going as far as Burndale before riding towards the village of Grosmont; then they turned about to ride back to Nab Farm with Howard’s warning that they must be home in time for supper ringing in their ears. He had written out details of places of interest for them, but told them how quickly the weather could change on the moor, the mist coming down so swiftly they could lose their bearings.
‘The moor might seem tranquil,’ he said, ‘but it can also be threatening and dangerous. Never take it for granted.’
Sometimes Clemmie would go with them, but once she had taught them the essentials of horsemanship and shown them the best views and the best rides she soon became bored, and as she had no conversation to speak of they became bored with her too.
Then one day Clementina announced that she was going to Scarborough to stay with her grandmother. When her father asked why now, she said airily, ‘There’s more to do there in the summer. Lots of visitors come to the Spa.’
She pronounced it Spaw. Polly wondered what she meant and later had to ask Rosalie.
‘It’s a place for taking the waters,’ Rosalie said. ‘Special mineral water which is supposed to be health-giving. I’ve never tried it. I wonder—’
‘What?’ Polly asked.
‘Well, should we go too, to Scarborough, and then return to Hull for a few days? I need to see if all is well with the house. Papa said he would go, but he hasn’t written to say if he did; and besides, we could do with some summer clothes. We only brought winter things.’
Polly gave a wry smile. Until she had been lucky enough to meet Rosalie, she had only ever had one set of clothing and it had to do for summer and winter. Two skirts and two bodices, one shift and a shawl. She and her mother took turn and turn about whenever any item of clothing wanted washing, and that was done in the summer, not the winter, for how would they ever get them dry?
‘It would be lovely to go and see ’castle at Scarborough,’ she agreed. ‘In daylight this time, and mebbe we could look at ’sea! But,’ she added anxiously, ‘will we come back here after you’ve been home?’
‘Of course!’ Rosalie gazed at Polly. ‘That’s what you want, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, yes. Please! I do.’
‘But you’d like to see Hull again? I don’t want to return alone.’
‘No, I’d like to go back,’ Polly said. ‘Mebbe I could go and see Mrs Walters. Or Sonny. We could visit him. Wouldn’t he be surprised!’
‘Ye-es,’ Rosalie was hesitant. ‘I’m not sure if that would be the proper thing to do, Polly. You know. He’s a single man, after all.’
Polly laughed. ‘Yes, I do know; but what difference does that make? He’s a friend, isn’t he?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Polly said the same thing to Howard when they told him they were considering going back to Hull, and hoped to see Sonny.
‘I’m sure Sonny will be pleased to see you again,’ he said. ‘He’ll be the envy of his friends having two beautiful ladies visiting him.’
His tone was jocular, but Rosalie thought there was a hint of concern, and then she was sure of it when he added, ‘But you will come back? You won’t desert us?’
He suggested that he should drive them to Scarborough with Clemmie and put them on the Hull train and that they could stay with his grandmother for a few days on their return. ‘She’d welcome your visit,’ he said. ‘She loves to have young people round her.’
They had met her at the wedding and found her charming. Rosalie said that would be most agreeable if Clemmie didn’t object.
‘Grandmother is my grandmother as well as Clemmie’s and Edwin’s,’ Howard said rather testily, which was quite unlike him. ‘She’s always pleased to see my friends.’
And so she was, when the following week they travelled to Scarborough in the carriage. Clementina took a large trunk with her, indicating that she was probably going to stay all the summer.
‘Members of the aristocracy visit Scarborough,’ she said loftily. ‘And some ladies come to catch a husband. I go to hear the concerts at the Spa,’ she said. ‘Grandmama goes with me and we meet up with her friends and their grandchildren. Of course,’ she added, ‘their mothers are there too, but we generally manage to escape and go shopping on our own, or else we take our swimming costumes and bathe in the sea – in a bathing machine, of course. And then there are the Pierrot shows which are such fun.’ She gave a little smirk which Polly was sure was for her benefit. ‘We have a lovely time; you just don’t know what you’re missing, Rosalie.’
Mrs Carleton was delighted to see them and disappointed that they were not staying that evening
. ‘You must have some lunch,’ she insisted, and assured them that they would not miss their train.
Her house was situated high up on Nicholas Cliff looking over the sea.
Polly gazed out of the window and was overwhelmed. ‘How wonderful,’ she said. ‘I’d no idea it would be like this. Look, Rosalie, there’s a lighthouse – and look, look over there on top of that hill. There’s ’castle!’
‘It’s a Norman castle.’ Mrs Carleton came up behind them. ‘Over the centuries there have been many attempts to destroy it.’ She smiled fondly. ‘But still it stands guard over this lovely old town. You must visit the Spa when you return and perhaps take the waters. Clementina likes to hear the concerts and I suppose it is a very romantic place to be when you’re young and the sea is sighing or frolicking and the moon shines upon it.’
Polly turned an enraptured face towards her. ‘Oh,’ she breathed. ‘I would love to see that, wouldn’t you, Rosalie?’
Rosalie agreed that she would, but she was becoming anxious that they might miss their train and so lunch was brought forward and Howard hurried them off as soon as it was polite to do so.
He helped them on to the train. ‘It will be a more pleasant journey than you endured when you came in February,’ he said. ‘But we’ll look forward to your return.’ He paused and then said, ‘Will you stay in Scarborough for the rest of the summer or will you write for me to come and collect you?’
‘Oh, we’ll write,’ Rosalie said. ‘I wouldn’t want to impose on your grandmother for so long.’
‘And besides,’ Polly said, ‘Hero and Damon and the puppies’ll miss us. We’ll have to get back for them.’
He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Of course they’ll miss you,’ he said, ‘and I’m sure everyone else will too.’
‘Thank you, Howard,’ Rosalie gave him her hand. ‘You’re very kind.’
‘Yes, you are,’ Polly said, impulsively giving him a kiss on his cheek. ‘Thank you.’
He touched his cheek. ‘I shan’t ever wash my face again,’ he said jovially.
‘Idiot!’ Polly laughed, and as the whistle sounded she shouted ‘Goodbye’ over the top of it.
‘Polly!’ Rosalie admonished her. ‘You might be giving Howard encouragement without meaning to.’
‘He knows I’m joking,’ Polly answered. ‘It was only fun!’
Rosalie shook her head. Polly was incorrigible and she wished that she could be so relaxed. It’s my upbringing, she thought. I have been taught to be always a lady and to act with decorum. I could never kiss a man in public as Polly just did, and I think Polly is wrong. I think Howard did take it seriously, in spite of his joking about never washing his face again. I think that Howard has a fondness for her. Or as Polly would say, ‘tekken a shine to her’!
It was raining hard when they arrived at Hull railway station and Rosalie insisted that they take a horse cab.
‘It isn’t far to walk,’ Polly said, ‘and we’ve hardly any luggage.’
‘No, we must take a cab. We shall get wet and cold and the house will be freezing. There’ll be no fire to welcome us, remember!’
Polly hid a smile. Rosalie didn’t know what it was like to endure life without the luxury of a fire or a hot meal cooked by servants. How would she ever have managed if she’d lived ’same life as I have? But she would have, she thought. It’s a matter of what you don’t have you don’t miss, and she admitted to herself that during the few months at Nab Farm she too had become used to the bliss of life with servants, when food miraculously appeared on the table, and clothes were washed without your lifting a finger, and you knew that someone would make your comfortable bed ready for the next time you got into it.
But it’s a drone’s life, she thought. I’m getting fat and lazy. Oh, I’m enjoying myself with ’horse and ’puppy and ’company, but where’s ’incentive to get up in a morning when I don’t have a job of work to go to, for I can’t by any means call being Rosalie’s companion, work!
The house was cold. A window on the top floor had been left open and the wind whistled through it and down the stairs, chilling all the rooms.
‘I’ll soon get a fire going,’ Polly said. ‘There’s plenty of wood and kindling. Shall I light it in ’kitchen, Miss Rosalie?’
She clapped her hand over her mouth and they stared at each other. Polly hadn’t called Rosalie Miss for months.
‘It’s cos we’re here,’ Polly said. ‘It just slipped out. It seemed ’natural thing to say.’
‘Then stop it at once,’ Rosalie said in a feigned harsh tone. ‘Or I’ll have to give you notice.’
‘Oh, please, miss.’ Polly clasped her hands together and fawned. ‘Please don’t do that. I’ll never get another job o’ work like this!’
They both laughed and Rosalie gave Polly a hug. ‘Oh, Polly,’ she said. ‘My life has changed so much since I met you. And all because of Sonny. I should thank him.’
‘We’ll seek him out tomorrow,’ Polly said. ‘But it’s getting late so let’s just get ’range going and ’kettle on for a cup o’ tea, and then shall I go out and buy a pie or something for supper?’
She had to consult Rosalie over such matters for she hadn’t any money of her own; she had refused the salary Rosalie wanted to pay her, saying she had no desire to buy anything for she had all she could possibly want: food, clothing and a warm bed. As far as Polly was concerned, those were the essential substances of life and she had them in abundance.
The next morning Rosalie said she would visit Mr Benjamin to find out if her father had made any decision about the house. She still hadn’t heard from him and had written again to remind him of his promise that he would come to see her before he travelled abroad with his regiment.
Polly said she would go shopping and buy enough food for the next few days, for they didn’t intend staying any longer than that. Both in their own way were missing the moor and the horses and the dogs.
‘I don’t miss Clemmie or Edwin,’ Rosalie said. ‘But I miss Uncle Luke and Anna. They are such kind people.’
‘And Howard,’ Polly declared. ‘You must miss Howard. I do already and we onny left yesterday.’
‘Really?’ Rosalie gave her a knowing look and a wry smile.
‘Oh, very funny!’ Polly exclaimed. ‘He wouldn’t look at me. Though he might at you.’
Rosalie laughed. What fun it was to discuss the possibilities of a romance with a friend. She couldn’t imagine ever having such a conversation with her former friends, without them taking it very seriously indeed.
Polly shopped for food at a grocery shop in Savile Street and bought chops from the butcher. It didn’t take her long, so she decided to continue on to High Street and see if there was anyone about that she knew. She walked with a jaunty step; she felt fit and well and full of energy, the result she knew of eating well and getting plenty of fresh air. But as she neared her old home area, she felt a despondency creeping over her.
Children were playing in the dirt-strewn courts and alleys behind High Street just as she had done and she wondered how she had ever survived. Just a few short months, she thought, and I, and my life, have changed completely.
She felt choked with emotion as she turned into the court and saw the dilapidated house where she and her mother had shared a room. She saw the uncurtained window and the dirty doorstep which they had always kept clean in spite of their privations, and stood looking with a sob in her throat and tears in her eyes.
Polly turned about, making a decision not to call on Mrs Walters, and headed for the main thoroughfare. The old lady had been kind towards her when her mother was dying, but, she thought, how would she feel if she saw me now, dressed in decent clothes, a shopping basket full of food over my arm? Would she be envious of my good fortune, scathing at the sight of me looking plump and healthy?
‘Polly! Is that you?’
It was an old quavery voice that hailed her and she turned reluctantly. Mrs Walters was waving a walking stick at h
er.
‘Yes, it’s me,’ Polly said and walked towards her. ‘How are you, Mrs Walters?’
‘All ’better for seeing you, Poll,’ the old lady said. ‘I bet you just knocked on my door and found nobody in?’
Before Polly could answer she went on, ‘Everybody’s in work, ’Lord be praised. And look at you! Dressed to ’nines and looking very perky. I’m glad you came to see us. Not forgotten your old pals, then, have you?’
Polly heaved a breath. ‘No, I haven’t, Mrs Walters. I’d never do that. You were very good to me.’
‘Ah, well! You were one of us, you and your ma, and we miss seeing you. Bet you wouldn’t come back though, would you? Still working for that nice young lady, are you?’
‘Yes,’ Polly said. ‘But not in Hull. She went to live in ’country and took me with her.’
‘Aye, I remember. That’s why you’re looking as plump as a chicken.’ Mrs Walters gave a grin, showing a mouth completely devoid of teeth. ‘I’m pleased to see it. Will you come in for a dish o’ tea?’
‘I can’t. I have to get back with ’shopping. Miss Rosalie’ll be expecting me,’ she said. ‘We’re not staying for more’n a day or two and then we’re catching ’train back.’
‘My, my,’ the old lady said. ‘What a treat. Well, good luck to you, lass. Don’t forget us, will you? And come back again some time.’
‘I will, Mrs Walters.’ Polly had a lump in her throat when she thought of how she had misjudged her old friend. ‘And I won’t ever forget you or how you looked after my ma. I’ll remember that to my dying day.’
‘A long time, then,’ Mrs Walters cackled. ‘Be seeing you, then, Poll.’ She waved her stick and turned into a nearby court and was gone.
Polly sniffed and felt for a handkerchief in her pocket and blew her nose. She took a breath. I shan’t ever worry about coming again, she thought. I should have known that decent folk are always pleased to hear of other people’s good fortune.
She cut across Lowgate and headed towards Charlotte Street Mews, intending to seek out Sonny. A man and woman were crossing the street and Polly approached them and asked if they knew where he lived.
