by Pam Weaver
She said nothing and he was desperate now. ‘London City Missioners tell me they can wed us but it’ll have to be in their hall.’
‘Then why didn’t we go there?’ she asked.
‘’Cos you said you wanted a proper church, Poll.’
‘Oh, Jack …’ She reached out and touched his face. Her cold fingers caressed him, featherlight. Jack closed his eyes, savouring the moment.
Pineapple Jack wasn’t given to romantic gestures but as she took her hand back, he grabbed it and kissed her palm. ‘I’m sorry Poll.’
She smiled. ‘Let’s do both, Jack.’
He nodded and she slipped her arm in his.
Walking up the aisle, Polly didn’t seem aware of the dust, destruction and damage all around her. A rat darted across the end of one of the pews and Jack held his breath, glancing anxiously at her face, afraid she might see.
‘Are they going to build another church here, Jack?’
‘The trains are coming, Poll,’ said Jack. ‘One day Charing Cross will be the railway capital of London.’
‘Perhaps the passengers would like some of your pineapple pieces?’ Polly said casually.
‘And your pies,’ he said.
All at once he stopped.
‘What?’ she said quietly. ‘What is it, Jack?’
‘Refreshments for railway passengers …’ He was thinking aloud. ‘I got some money saved. If we can’t get a place on the station itself, we’ll rent a place nearby. I can get some good stuff from the market. You could bake and when the passengers come—’ He stopped mid-sentence, suddenly embarrassed by his own enthusiasm.
Polly threw back her head and laughed. ‘Why wait for the railway passengers?’ she said. ‘The gangers who are going to build the station will need pies and pineapples too. We could set up another hut for them.’
He smiled slowly, his head whirling with plans. ‘You’re good for me Poll. You got a level head under them pretty curls.’
They continued their walk up the aisle.
‘Are you ready, Jack?’ said the parson and they reached the rail.
Oh, yes, thought Jack. Marrying Polly was the best idea he’d ever had … apart from selling those pineapples … He was on his way up in the world and she’d be just the right gal for him. A lifelong commitment. The idea had always scared him before, but not with Poll. ‘Ready?’ he said, looking directly at her.
‘Oh yes, I’m ready.’
Polly made all of her promises looking directly into his eyes.
‘For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, ’till death us do part …’
And as he returned her gaze, Pineapple Jack could feel his pulse quicken. She was lovely … so lovely …
‘You may kiss the bride,’ said the parson.
When Pineapple Jack reached out his hand and tenderly lifted her wayward curl to kiss her cheek, something wonderful surged in his heart.
‘Poll,’ he whispered for her ears only. ‘I … I just want you to know, gal, that I’ll always do my best by you.’
‘Thank you, Jack.’
‘And …’
‘And?’
‘And, I love you.’
Polly smiled up at him with tears in her eyes. ‘Then I have everything I have ever wished for, Jack.’
When the ceremony was over, he paid the parson and gave One-eyed Tom enough to buy a drink. Then the two of them walked from St Dunstan’s onto the street.
‘I’ll get on to the London City Missioners straight away, Poll,’ he said.
‘Promise?’
‘I promise,’ he said earnestly.
‘Tomorrow?’
‘First thing tomorrow.’
She lifted her face and he bent to kiss her. At first it was slow and tender, but as his kisses grew in intensity she did nothing to stop him.
After, they walked to his place and she went willingly inside. ‘Oh Poll,’ he groaned as she snuggled into his arms.
‘We’re together now Jack,’ she said. ‘Everything in common, share and share alike. I belong body and soul to you now.’
He regarded her for a second. ‘But you said …’ he began.
‘I said a lot of things,’ she admitted, ‘but that was before you told me you loved me. I trust you, Jack. You’re a man who keeps his promises.’
He kissed her again and after a while he lifted her onto his bed.
‘Share and share alike,’ he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
She nodded. ‘That’s right, Jack.’
‘Then what’s the secret ingredient in your pies, Poll?’
She cuffed his shoulder playfully then surrendered herself to the man she loved.
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About the Author
Adopted from birth, Pam Weaver trained as a nursery nurse working in children’s homes, premature baby units, day nurseries and at one time she was a Hyde Park nanny. A member of West Sussex Writers since 1987, her first novel, A Mother’s Gift (previously published as There’s Always Tomorrow) was the winner in the Day for Writers’ Novel Opening Competition and was bought by HarperCollins Avon. Pam’s novels are set in Worthing during the war and the austerity years which followed. Her inspiration comes from her love of people and their stories and her passion for the town of Worthing. With the sea on one side and the Downs on the other, Worthing has a scattering of small villages within its urban sprawl and in some cases tightknit communities, making it an ideal setting for the modern saga.
By the same author:
Goodnight Sweetheart
A Mother’s Gift previously published as There’s Always Tomorrow
Better Days Will Come
Pack Up Your Troubles
Mother’s Day previously published as For Better For Worse
Blue Moon
Love Walked Right In
Always In My Heart
Sing Them Home
Come Rain or Shine
Short stories:
Emily’s Christmas Wish
Amy’s Wartime Christmas
Amy’s Seaside Secret
Memoir:
Bath Times and Nursery Rhymes
About the Publisher
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