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Polly

Page 16

by Betty Neels


  Deirdre gave a tinkling laugh. ‘Oh, well, I suppose I’ll have to tell you—Sam wanted to keep it a secret from everyone, but I insisted that we must tell you. You’ve been seeing quite a lot of him, haven’t you, and we began to think…’ She paused and laughed again. ‘Well, you know how it sometimes is—you may have mistaken his interest in you.’

  She watched Polly’s pale face flush, well pleased. ‘Sam is so interested in people—he wanted to see how you would make out as a nurse. He was so certain you wouldn’t finish your training—not the type, too…’ she paused again: ‘countryfied explains it, I suppose, and too wrapped up in Greek and Latin.’

  She waited for Polly to speak and when she didn’t: ‘You’ve no idea what Sam was going to say to you?’ she asked sharply.

  ‘No,’ said Polly quietly, and thought that wasn’t quite true. She had hoped—well, when he’d been talking to her a tiny flame had begun to flicker, too small for her to feel more than a vague excitement at what he was going to say. The flame flickered now and died. She had her face nicely under control when Deirdre went on: ‘We’re getting married in two days’ time, very quietly. I wanted a big wedding, but Sam says he won’t wait any longer. Of course, Mother and Father are furious—I’m the only one, you know, and they wanted a big affair.’ She stared at Polly. ‘Did Sam say he was coming back?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, well, I’ll tell him he needn’t bother now—you don’t need to see him again, do you? I’ll tell him all the usual things, shall I? Congratulations and so on. I must be going—we’re dining out.’ She sniffed delicately. ‘There’s a frightful smell of cooking—I suppose it’s your supper. You must have found living in Sam’s house very different from this.’ Her eyes took her in and the comfortable shabbiness of the pleasant room.

  Polly didn’t answer that. She went to the door and opened it, then led the way across the hall and pushed the half open front door wide. And when Deirdre was outside she shut it again; she heard Deirdre’s indignant snort at such cavalier treatment.

  She leaned against the door, listening to the car being driven away, then walked slowly into the dining room. They all looked at her pinched pale face and her mother said: ‘Come and sit down, love,’ and started to put food on to a plate.

  Polly sat obediently, accepted the plate and pushed its contents round without eating anything. Presently she said in an expressionless voice: ‘Sam’s getting married in two days’ time. Deirdre came to tell me. That’s why he came to see me, he said he had something to tell me…’

  Her father spoke. ‘I imagine Sam will return. If he wanted to tell you this himself—he’s that kind of man.’

  Mrs Talbot started to collect up the plates and Cora took them out to the kitchen and everyone made small talk while they ate the strawberries and cream, and when they’d finished Cora and Marian offered to wash up and Ben went away to do his homework.

  ‘You’ll want to talk to your mother,’ said Mr Talbot, and left them there still sitting at the table.

  ‘You don’t have to talk about it, love,’ said Mrs Talbot, ‘but is there anything we can do to help—do you want to do anything?’

  ‘I don’t want to see Sam again,’ said Polly slowly. ‘You see, I love him very much and I couldn’t bear it if he found out. Deirdre said he wouldn’t—come back—there was no need, but I’m not sure about that. Mother, could I go to Aunt Maggie’s? Just for a week or two. I’ve got enough money for the fare.’

  ‘I don’t see why not, darling. Shall you write to her?’

  ‘I’ll ring her up—now. I can catch the early morning bus to Birmingham from the village and catch the ten-thirty from there—the one you and Father caught last year.’

  ‘You’ll have to change at Crewe,’ said her mother faintly. ‘Must you go so quickly, Polly?’

  ‘Yes, Mother—please. You see, when I come back Sam will be married and it’ll be over and done with.’ She sighed. ‘It was silly of me, wasn’t it, to fall in love with someone who’s never given me so much as a second glance.’ She got up and set her chair neatly in its place. ‘I’ll ring Aunt Maggie now and pack a bag.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT WAS half past six and full daylight by the time Sam stretched his back, stood while the nurse untied his gown, stripped off mask and gloves and left the theatre. He had operated throughout the night on the small battered bodies which had been brought out of the ruins of a tenement block, and now he gave careful instructions to his Registrar, bade everyone a pleasant good morning and went to the consultants’ room. Presently he would shower and shave, but now he needed to sleep for an hour.

  By eight o’clock he was his usual elegant self, eating breakfast with Joseph and the Registrar, and half an hour later he was back on the ward, checking his patients of the night and doing a round, unworried by the chaos of breakfasts, baths and treatments.

  ‘I shall be away for the rest of the day,’ he told his Registrar. ‘Get Mr Toms if you’re worried but you can reach me after six o’clock at my home—if I’m not there Jeff will know where I am.’ He checked on his way out of the ward. ‘Joseph, I’d almost forgotten—Jane is coming to lunch tomorrow, isn’t she? Well, that’s still on, though I think we’ll have to rearrange things. I’ll give you a ring this evening. It’s a short list in the morning, there should be enough time.’

  Joseph grinned. ‘Yes, sir. But what about Polly—someone said she’d left.’

  ‘She’ll be there, Joseph,’ said the Professor imperturbably.

  He left the hospital and got into the Bentley, and half an hour later he was at the Talbots’ house.

  Mrs Talbot met him at the open front door. ‘Sam! Deirdre said you weren’t coming back.’ Her eyes searched his impassive face. ‘You’re tired—you’ve been up all night, of course—that block of flats with all those children sleeping.’

  He smiled faintly. ‘Where’s Polly, Mrs Talbot?’

  She said in a whisper: ‘Gone to Scotland. Oh, Sam, Deirdre said…’

  He took her gently by the arm. ‘Deirdre seems to have said a good deal. Perhaps you would tell me about it.’

  ‘Yes—oh yes, of course, Sam. Come into the kitchen and we’ll have coffee.’

  As she filled the mugs he asked: ‘Why Scotland?’

  ‘It was as far away as she could go…’

  He laughed then, a bitter laugh, so that Mrs Talbot’s tongue was betrayed into exclaiming: ‘She loves you, Sam, that’s why she had to go away. She couldn’t bear to be here, knowing that you and Deirdre are going to marry.’

  He put down his mug. ‘I think perhaps you might tell me exactly what happened, Mrs Talbot.’

  It took quite a time, for Mrs Talbot was worried and upset and kept adding bits she had forgotten, but finally Sam spoke. ‘I’ll find her at Crewe.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘There’s half an hour to wait there, you say? I should make it easily. But first let me set your mind at rest, Mrs Talbot. Deirdre and I broke off our engagement before Diana’s wedding, although we said nothing as I didn’t want Diana’s day to be spoilt.’ He got to his feet, looking down at her. ‘I’m going to marry Polly, if she’ll have me.’ He bent and kissed Mrs Talbot’s cheek. ‘You’ll make a delightful mother-in-law.’

  At the door he turned to smile at her. ‘We’ll ring you later.’

  Mrs Talbot found her voice. ‘Sam, you’re tired to death, you can’t drive all that way—it’s too far!’

  ‘Never too far to be with my Polly,’ he told her.

  Polly sat wedged between an old man with a bad cough and a fat lady who wanted to talk. The bus to Birmingham had been late getting in and she had had to hurry to catch the train to Crewe, so unexpectedly full that she had given up looking for a window seat and at the last minute insinuated her small person between her neighbours. It was already quite warm and the boy opposite her was smoking endlessly, so it was a relief when she recognised the outskirts of Crewe.

  The station was crowded with people milling around th
e platforms, so it took a few minutes to get herself and her case from the train and over the bridge to the right platform. The train was running a little late, a muffled voice over the Tannoy told her, so she took herself off to the buffet. A cup of coffee would pass the time, and something to eat. She had had almost no breakfast, despite her mother’s gentle nagging, and now she felt famished. The journey ahead would be lengthy and she supposed that somewhere on the way she would have to eat; it would be late by the time she reached Aunt Maggie’s and she couldn’t expect that lady, however good-natured, to cook a hot meal for her.

  Just for a moment she wished most desperately to be home again—indeed, the feeling was so strong that she might have picked up her case and gone back over the bridge and caught the next train back to Birmingham, only by now there was a solid queue behind her, and those in front were already at the buffet counter. She got her coffee and what looked like a plastic sandwich wrapped in more plastic and went to sit at one of the crowded tables. There were five other people there; a youngish woman with two toddlers, an elderly lady in a disastrous hat and three important-looking men with briefcases. They were talking together in low voices and scarcely looked at her, the toddlers were crying while their mother drank her coffee, taking no notice of them at all, only the elderly lady looked her over slowly and then went on drinking. Polly, sipping her own tasteless drink, began, quite against her intention, thinking about Sam. Tomorrow would be his wedding day—and that reminded her suddenly that that was to have been the day when Joseph and Jane were to have had lunch with him. She supposed they would go to the wedding instead; after all, Deirdre would have to have a few guests, however quiet the occasion was to be.

  Polly, in her mind’s eye, saw the girl, draped in the very latest fashion, standing beside Sam in the village church. The picture was so vivid that she felt the tears prick her eyelids. What a fool she had been—she should have stuck to her Latin and Greek. She blew her nose vigorously and gave the elderly lady a defiant look.

  The three business men were getting ready to go, but she didn’t look up at the small commotion they made. Sam’s voice, very gentle in her ear, turned her giddy for the moment.

  ‘What,’ he asked, ‘is that revolting thing on the table?’

  ‘A s-sandwich.’

  Sam picked it up and looked at it closely. ‘Someone should write to The Times about it,’ he observed, and smiled at the elderly lady who, taken aback, smiled in return. The toddlers were still crying, but he ignored them. ‘The car’s outside,’ he said to Polly, and took her shaking hand in his. And then: ‘I said I’d come back, my darling.’

  Polly sought for words and because she couldn’t find any to fit the occasion, looked at him. He was smiling a little, watching her intently, but tired lines were etched in his face still.

  ‘Sam,’ she said uncertainly, ‘I don’t believe you’ve had any sleep—you look all in. And why are you here? Tomorrow’s your wedding day.’

  It hurt to say that, but she felt better when she had.

  ‘No, it’s not. Tomorrow we’re entertaining Joseph and Jane to lunch, or had you forgotten?’

  ‘But Deirdre said…’ And then: ‘How did you know where I was?’

  He ignored the elderly lady, who had bent forward a little so that she could hear what they were saying.

  ‘Your mother told me. Polly, darling Polly, Deirdre and I broke off our engagement before Diana got married, but I insisted that we kept quiet about it so that it wouldn’t spoil her day.’ He took her other hand in his and smiled at her so tenderly that she felt weak inside. ‘I knew I could never marry her. One look at you, earnestly telling me to have a cup of coffee, and I was lost.’

  ‘But I’m going to Scotland…’

  ‘Another time, dearest girl. We’ll go together—a splendid place for a honeymoon.’ He glanced across at the elderly lady, taking in every word. ‘Don’t you agree, madam?’ he asked her.

  The elderly lady looked surprised. ‘Me? You’re asking me?’ she wanted to know. ‘Bless you both, I couldn’t think of a better place to go.’

  She got up reluctantly and walked away, pausing to look back before she disappeared into the crowd. Polly chuckled. ‘Sam, how could you? I mean, we’ve never seen her before.’ She remembered something. ‘You said I’d never make a nurse, and I dropped that bowl…’

  ‘Of course you’ll never be a nurse. You’ll have more than enough on your hands with me to look after and the children to bring up.’

  ‘But you didn’t like me—you said…’

  He bent and kissed her very gently, which made the young woman stare. ‘Oh, but I did—I loved you to distraction, and it’s getting worse every minute. But at first I didn’t quite believe it, so I made a kind of smoke-screen of ill humour and of coldness.’ He said quietly: ‘I’ve been so very afraid of losing you, my pretty.’

  Polly gave a little choking laugh. ‘Dear Sam—I didn’t like you at first, you know, and then I discovered that I loved you.’

  ‘So you decided to be a nurse and forget me?’

  The young woman stubbed a half-smoked cigarette in her saucer and went away, dragging the still howling children with her.

  Polly looked down at the large, firm hand holding hers so gently. ‘I could never forget you,’ she said very softly.

  The hand tightened and she felt a pleasant tingle of excitement.

  ‘I shall take care you don’t,’ said the Professor firmly. ‘And here’s something to think about until we can go somewhere quiet.’

  He put an arm round her and held her close and kissed her thoroughly.

  ‘Sam,’ said Polly weakly, ‘we’re in the middle of Crewe Station.’

  He looked around him. ‘So we are. I thought it was paradise.’ Such a satisfactory answer that she kissed him back.

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-0411-9

  POLLY

  Copyright © 1984 by Betty Neels.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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