‘Perhaps Father Christmas will bring you a motorcycle this year.’ Polly smiled back at her.
‘One can only hope!’ Phil sighed. ‘Just think, it’s only another couple of months until we qualify. I can’t wait, can you? I’m hoping they’ll assign me somewhere a bit closer. Preferably with a decent bus or tram service!’ She turned to Polly. ‘How about you? Do you have any particular preference for where you want to go?’
Polly shook her head. ‘I really don’t mind.’ But her heart was heavy. She didn’t like lying to Phil, but she didn’t want to tell anyone what had happened with her mother.
She was upset and furious that Bess had given her the ultimatum. Deep down, she knew it meant nothing; Miss Gale certainly wouldn’t make her leave, whatever her mother might threaten. But Polly also knew she couldn’t go on working alongside Bess when there was so much bad feeling between them.
In any case, her choice was made. Her future happiness lay with Finn Slater.
‘Don’t look now, but your friend is coming this way,’ Phil hissed.
Polly looked round in a panic to see Matthew Elliott gliding towards her, looking angelic in his snowy white surplice, his light brown curls like a fluffy halo around his head.
‘Polly,’ he greeted her stiffly. ‘How are you?’
He put out his hand but Polly ignored it. She couldn’t bear to touch him or even look at him after all the trouble he’d caused.
Phil moved in smoothly, taking the curate’s hand. ‘I’m Phil,’ she said. ‘Phil Fletcher. We met at the dance?’
‘Oh. Oh yes, of course,’ Matthew replied absently, his gaze still fixed on Polly. She turned away from him and joined the slow tide of people moving towards the doors.
Phil caught up with her outside. It was bitterly cold, and the first tentative flakes of snow were beginning to drift out of the velvety black sky.
‘That was a bit rude, wasn’t it?’ she said. ‘You could have shaken the poor man’s hand!’
‘He was lucky I didn’t punch him on the nose!’ Polly replied with feeling.
Phil sent her a sideways look. ‘Oh dear. What did he do to you?’
‘You don’t want to know,’ Polly muttered.
As they passed the corner of the church, out of habit she glanced back over her shoulder towards the sexton’s cottage. Her heart lifted with surprise and delight to see a light glowing in the window.
‘You go on ahead,’ she said to Phil. ‘There’s someone I need to see.’
‘Now?’ Phil looked at her watch. ‘It’s nearly midnight!’
‘Please?’ Polly begged.
Phil sighed. ‘Oh, all right. You’re lucky Dottie won’t be locking the door tonight because of Midnight Mass. But don’t be too late, will you?’
‘I won’t,’ Polly promised.
‘And remember, if you do get caught, you’ll have to answer to your mother, since she’s in charge while Miss Gale is away,’ Phil warned.
‘I know,’ Polly said.
She watched Phil catch up with the other nurses and they all disappeared through the lych gate together. Then Polly turned and retraced her steps, back up the path past the church to Henry Slater’s cottage.
Before she knocked, she looked in through the window. The curtains were open and she could see Finn sitting in his grandfather’s old armchair, gazing moodily into the dying embers of the fire. He looked distracted, as if he was a million miles away.
She tapped gently on the window, startling him out of his reverie. He jerked upright and swung round to stare at the window. When he saw her, a strange expression flitted across his face. If Polly hadn’t known better, she would have sworn it was dread.
He came to the door and flung it open. ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.
‘We’ve just been to church so I thought I’d call in and see you.’ Polly smiled at him. She expected him to reach for her, to pull her into the warmth of his arms. But instead he stood rooted to the spot, his face a blank mask. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’ She shivered, stamping her feet to bring some life into them. ‘It’s rather cold out here.’
‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘Granddad’s a bit restless tonight. I don’t want to disturb him.’
Polly looked at Finn’s rigid, expressionless face. Suddenly she felt cold seeping through her, and not just from the icy flakes that pattered against her face.
‘I told my mother about us,’ she said. He nodded, his face still blank. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?’ He was silent. ‘Finn?’
His silence frightened her. The past day or so had been horrible, and all she wanted was for him to hold her, to reassure her that he loved her and everything would be all right.
But he seemed cold, offhand, almost uninterested.
‘Finn, say something!’ She laughed nervously.
He looked at her, his expression bleak. ‘I don’t think we should see each other any more,’ he said.
It took her a moment to realise what he’d said. But even then she couldn’t bring herself to believe it.
‘I – I don’t understand. What are you saying?’
‘I said it plainly enough, didn’t I?’ His voice was harsh. ‘I don’t want to be with you.’
Job pushed past Finn to greet her, nudging her gloved hand with his nose. Polly wanted to cry but she felt too numb. ‘But I thought … You said you loved me.’
‘I was wrong, wasn’t I?’
Finn was staring down at the worn stone step as he said it.
‘Look at me,’ she said.
‘Polly …’
‘Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to be with me!’
Even Job seemed to realise something was wrong. He stopped nudging Polly and sat on his haunches, looking up at Finn.
Slowly, he raised his gaze to meet hers. They were standing so close she could see the shadow of stubble on his strong jaw, and the inky rings that circled his stormy grey irises.
‘I don’t want to be with you,’ he said.
She gazed into his eyes and saw something lurking in their depths. A look of utter wretchedness.
And then she knew.
‘You’ve spoken to my mother.’
The fight seemed to go out of him, his broad shoulders sagging. ‘I don’t want this,’ he said, his voice ragged. ‘I don’t want you to give up everything for my sake.’
‘But it’s what I want.’
‘It’s not what I want. I couldn’t live with myself if you did that. I can’t let you give up your future.’
‘You are my future,’ said Polly, reaching for his hand. She felt the fleeting warmth of his touch before he pulled away.
‘No,’ said Finn. ‘Not any more.’
He stepped away, putting distance between them. Polly felt him retreating from her, his warmth diminishing. ‘You can’t do this,’ she pleaded. ‘I love you.’
‘And I love you too,’ he said. ‘That’s why I have to do this.’
At three minutes past midnight on Christmas Day, little Ivy Jenkins came screaming into the world, much to the delight of her parents, Mary and Joseph.
‘Can you believe it?’ Ellen Jarvis marvelled as she and Bess made their way home, cycling carefully through the dark, frozen streets. ‘A child born on Christmas Day to Mary and Joseph!’
‘Not exactly in a stable, though,’ Bess said. Although a tiny back bedroom in a Quarry Hill tenement wasn’t much better, when she came to think about it.
‘And no choir of angels either. Unless you count those drunks coming home from the pub!’ Ellen laughed.
‘I’m glad it wasn’t a boy,’ Bess said. ‘Heaven only knows what they might have decided to call him.’
‘Ivy’s a nice name. And I daresay we’ll be called out this time next year for Holly’s birth, too!’
‘Not me!’ Bess shivered. ‘This is the last time I do a night shift at Christmas. I’m getting too old for this lark.’
‘Perhaps this time next year your Polly
will have qualified as a midwife.’
Bess said nothing as they turned the corner into Steeple Street. The district nurses’ house was in darkness, its steeply gabled roofs and Gothic pinnacles black on black against the night sky. Light from the street lamps caught the lazily drifting snowflakes.
‘Looks like we’ll have snow for Christmas,’ Ellen said.
‘It’ll make the roads treacherous if we get called out.’
Ellen laughed. ‘Bess Bradshaw! Don’t you have any romance in your soul at all?’
Bess felt a stab of regret. ‘It doesn’t seem like it,’ she said grimly.
She would have liked to go straight to her warm bed, but Ellen insisted they toast the arrival of Christmas Day – and baby Ivy – with a glass of sherry.
They were just finishing their drinks when the other nurses returned from Midnight Mass, shivering and shaking the snow off their coats.
‘Where’s Polly?’ Bess asked.
‘She’s – um – just following on behind.’ Phil Fletcher looked away guiltily.
‘Is she now?’ Bess’ mouth firmed. She had a very good idea where her daughter was.
‘You mustn’t worry about her, Bess. She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.’ Ellen Jarvis laid her hand on Bess’ shoulder. ‘Here, have another drink. This is turning into quite a party, isn’t it?’ She offered the sherry bottle, but Bess put up her hand.
‘No, thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m off to bed.’
Ellen looked disappointed. ‘Are you sure you won’t stay and celebrate with the rest of us?’
‘Thanks, but I don’t feel like celebrating. And see you clear all those glasses away before Miss Gale comes back tomorrow, or she’ll never leave me in charge again!’ she added.
Bess left the other nurses laughing in the common room and trudged up to bed. Part of her wanted to wait until Polly came home so she could hear what she had to say for herself. But deep down she knew she was too exhausted to face another argument, and another part of her was nervous that Polly might not come home at all. For all Bess knew, she could be planning a second elopement. The two of them might even be on their way now, heading north through the snow …
Bess undressed quickly and got into bed, but the heavy blankets offered no warmth and she lay under them shivering with nervous anticipation of what the next day would bring.
She didn’t have to wait long to find out. Shortly after the other nurses went to bed, their voices ebbing and flowing on the landing as their doors closed, she heard Polly come home.
Bess listened to her daughter’s footsteps on the stairs. She made no effort to tread softly. Bess could feel anger emanating from every step.
She got up, pulling her dressing gown around her just as the door opened.
Bess saw her daughter, and it was all she could do to stop herself from rushing to her and gathering Polly into her arms. The poor girl looked distraught, her eyes red-rimmed in a white, bloodless face. But that wasn’t Bess’ way. So instead she retreated behind her familiar wall of bitterness and sarcasm. ‘You’re still here then?’
‘Yes,’ Polly muttered. ‘I’m still here.’
‘And will you be staying?’
‘It looks like it, doesn’t it?’
Bess’ heart crashed against her ribs in sheer relief, but she daren’t show it. She put out her hand to grip the bedpost. ‘What made you change your mind?’
‘As if you didn’t know!’ Polly’s voice was harsh. ‘You talked to Finn, didn’t you?’ she accused.
‘Did he tell you that?’
‘No, he wouldn’t tell me anything. But I know it was you. You couldn’t leave it, could you? You couldn’t bear to let me be happy. You had to try to ruin it all.’
Bess lifted her chin. ‘I don’t like to see you upset,’ she said calmly. ‘But I’d be lying if I said I was sorry. He was no good for you, Polly.’ She took a step towards her daughter. ‘I don’t want you to throw your life away. You’re going to qualify soon, and then—’
‘And then what?’ Polly flung back at her. ‘What do I have to look forward to? Growing old and bitter on my own like you?’
She looked around the room. Her expression had gone from distraught to full of dark, twisted malice.
‘I don’t want to live like this, in a mean little room with no memories. Look,’ she said, gesturing at the bare walls. ‘Look around you. You’ve got nothing, have you?’
‘Polly—’
‘It’s true. This is all you’ve got.’ She picked up the pot from the dresser and stared at it. ‘Just some ugly little ornament. I bet you can’t even remember where it came from, can you?’
‘Polly, please. Just calm down, and—’
‘I don’t want to calm down!’ Polly’s voice rose. ‘I’m sick of you ordering me about, telling me what I can and can’t do, what I can and can’t think, who I can and can’t fall in love with. I’m not a child, and you can’t treat me like one, not any more. I won’t let you!’
Bess took a step back. She had never seen her daughter so angry. Her sweet, gentle Polly was gone, replaced by a furious demon.
‘I could have been happy,’ she said, her voice hoarse with anger. ‘I had someone who loved me, but you couldn’t bear that, could you? You had to go and ruin it all for me, just like you ruin everything!’
‘I don’t – I only want the best for you.’
Polly threw back her head and laughed. ‘Don’t make me laugh! You’ve never wanted the best for anyone in your life. All you ever do is make people as miserable as you are. You just can’t stand to see anyone happy, can you? You always hated to see Dad laughing and joking with me, and now you don’t want anyone to love me. You’re only satisfied when I’m living here, where you can keep an eye on me, living a miserable little existence just like you. Well, I’m not going to do it. I’m sick of trying to please you. I hate you, and I hate everything about you!’
Polly threw the pot at the wall. It shattered into pieces, sending fragments of pottery and hairpins skittering all over the polished floorboards.
And then, all at once, the strength seemed to leave her and she sank down on the floor, her knees buckling under her, and started to sob; great keening sobs that racked her whole body.
Bess watched her, helpless in the face of such terrible grief. She had never seen her daughter like this.
Behind her, the door opened and Ellen Jarvis appeared in her nightgown.
‘What is going on?’ she said. ‘I heard – Polly?’ She looked at the sobbing girl on the floor. ‘Oh Polly, my dear, what is it?’
Ellen immediately dropped down beside her and put her arms around the girl. Bess watched her rocking Polly in her arms like a baby.
Why couldn’t she do that? Bess wondered. She desperately wanted to, and yet she couldn’t allow herself to break down the wall she had built around herself. The wall that kept her safe, but also separated her from everyone she loved.
Finally, Polly calmed down, her sobs quietening to a whimper.
‘What’s going on?’ Miss Goode whispered from the doorway. The other nurses had crowded in behind her. ‘Is Polly all right?’
‘She’s quite well.’ Ellen Jarvis took charge of the situation. She summoned Phil Fletcher forward with a wave of her hand. ‘Miss Fletcher, would you take Polly away and help get her ready for bed, please? It might be as well if you stayed with her, since Miss Sheridan is away.’
‘Yes, Miss Jarvis.’
Once Phil had ushered Polly away, the other nurses returned to bed and Ellen closed the door to Bess’ room.
‘Now,’ she said. ‘What on earth was that all about?’
Bess didn’t look up from where she was kneeling beside her bed, carefully gathering up the broken shards of pottery. ‘It was my fault,’ she said. ‘Polly was angry, and I don’t blame her.’
‘Here, let me help you.’ Ellen bent down beside her and started picking up the broken pottery. There seemed to be a million pieces, far more than Bess
would ever have imagined for such a tiny pot.
‘It take it it’s over, then? Between her and the young man?’ Ellen said. Bess nodded. ‘You must be very relieved.’
Bess paused for a moment to examine her feelings. All kinds of emotions were going through her, but she wasn’t sure if relief was one of them.
‘I don’t know about that. I’m beginning to think you were right,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have interfered.’
Ellen Jarvis sat back on her heels. ‘What’s this? Are you going soft in your old age, Bess Bradshaw? It’s not often you admit you were wrong.’
‘Perhaps I should have done it more often,’ Bess mused. ‘Then happen I wouldn’t be in this position.’
Ellen was silent for a moment and Bess tensed, knowing what was about to come.
‘I was thinking,’ she said slowly. ‘Perhaps if you told Polly about—’
‘No,’ Bess cut her off. ‘I know what you’re going to say, and the answer is no.’
‘It might help her to understand?’
‘No,’ Bess repeated. Her hands shook as she picked up another fragment of pottery. ‘I mean it, Ellen. I don’t want her to know anything about it.’
‘But it’s so unfair …’
‘Unfair or not, it’s best Polly doesn’t know. And I don’t want you saying anything either,’ she warned.
‘Of course I won’t, not if you don’t want me to,’ Ellen said. ‘But I think you’re making a mistake, Bess, I really do.’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?’
Ellen picked up a shard of pottery and considered it carefully. ‘You know, I’ve always thought this was an odd little ornament,’ she said.
‘Polly made it at school, when she was a lass.’ She’d made it for her father, but Bess had still treasured it.
Ellen smiled sympathetically as she handed the piece of pottery over. ‘I’m sure it can be mended,’ she said kindly. ‘A bit of glue and it will be as good as new.’
Bess looked down at the fragments in her hand. It was a shame the same couldn’t be said for herself and Polly.
There was an odd atmosphere in Steeple Street the following morning. Everything felt subdued and drained, like the morning after a heavy storm. Except unlike a storm the air hadn’t been cleared. It was still charged with electricity, as if something might happen at any moment.
The Nurses of Steeple Street Page 28