Forgive and Forget

by Dickinson, Margaret

  ‘Why won’t you let us go, Polly? It’s only rain.’

  ‘It’s not on.’ Polly ruffled Miriam’s hair. ‘It’s no good going. Nobody’ll be there.’

  Tears ran down Miriam’s cheeks. ‘Not never?’

  Polly knelt down in front of her little sister, the child who was more like her own than a sibling. She’d cared for her since her birth and felt as if she were her mother. ‘Don’t cry, ducky. “Postponed” means put off. They say it’s going to be next Saturday instead.’

  Miriam began to smile through her tears. ‘So we can go next week?’

  Polly nodded. ‘But only if you’re good, mind.’

  Miriam clapped her hands. ‘Oh, I will be, I will be. And Stevie too? He can come?’

  ‘Of course he can. That is . . .’ She stopped. No one else in the family knew that at this very moment Stevie had gone in search of a Saturday job with, of all people, Mr Wilmott, the greengrocer on the High Street. Only Polly knew.

  ‘I reckon you’ll get short shrift, love,’ Polly had said when he’d told her his plans. ‘Mr Wilmott got rid of our Eddie because, well, because he didn’t want him any more.’ She’d no intention of telling Stevie just why Eddie had left the man’s employ. Mr Wilmott might tell him himself, of course, but Stevie wasn’t going to hear it from Polly’s lips.

  ‘But I’m not our Eddie,’ Stevie had countered quietly.

  Polly had regarded the boy solemnly. He’d grown so much in the last couple of years; she still had trouble keeping him in clothes and shoes. But he looked much older than his eleven years and had a maturity far beyond that age too. Perhaps, she thought, if Mr Wilmott was a fair-minded man he would give the boy a chance and not judge him by his brother’s behaviour.

  ‘Stevie’ll be back home in a bit,’ Polly said now to Miriam. ‘And we can ask him.’

  But far more important matters were weighing on Polly’s mind than the coronation celebrations or even Stevie’s job. Violet had no longer been able to hide her condition and she’d been forced to give in her notice at the store.

  ‘For heaven’s sake don’t wait to be dismissed,’ Polly had warned her. ‘If you ever want to go back, they’d never have you if you get the sack. They’d remember.’

  ‘They’d never have me back there anyway,’ Violet said morosely. ‘They’ll find out and they’d never employ an unmarried mother, now would they?’

  Polly had sighed heavily. ‘No, I suppose not.’

  ‘I tell you what, though – ’ Violet had brightened visibly as a thought struck her. ‘After I’ve had it, we could pretend it’s yours and then I could go back.’

  Polly had gaped at her, appalled by such a suggestion. Really, the girl was impossible. Violet had no thought for her sister’s reputation and would have happily put the blame on Polly just so that she, Violet, could keep her fancy job.

  ‘Oh no, you don’t, my girl. I’ve given up enough for this family. What on earth would Leo say to such a suggestion and besides, how would you explain an absence from work of about three months at least?’

  Violet had pouted. ‘I could be ill. I could get Dr Fenwick to write them a letter saying I was – I was suffering from – from – well, he’d think of something.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Violet,’ Polly snapped. From being sympathetic at first with her sister’s predicament, feeling herself partly to blame, Polly was fast losing patience with her. Since Micky Fowler had refused to marry her – indeed he never came near the house now – and the Longden family had rallied round and promised to look after her, Violet had begun to take advantage of her family’s goodness and had returned to her selfish, self-centred ways.

  Polly leant closer as she said firmly, ‘Doctors don’t lie for their patients, Vi.’

  Violet stared at her with wide eyes. ‘But we pay for his services, Poll. Of course he would.’

  ‘No, he wouldn’t and don’t you ever dare to suggest such a thing to anyone.’ She lowered her voice as she added, ‘For your information, Dr Fenwick never charged us anything when – when Mam died or Dad was sick. And I’ve heard it said that he didn’t charge a lot of his patients at the time of the typhoid. He’s a good man is Dr Fenwick, so don’t you go saying such wicked things about him. D’you hear me?’

  Violet didn’t answer but glowered at her sister as her wonderful idea was torn apart.

  The following morning she handed in her notice, telling the head of the millinery department that she had secured a better job.

  ‘Well, I can’t think where you’ve found a better job than at Mawer and Collingham’s,’ Miss Carr had sniffed.

  ‘It’s a smaller emporium.’ Violet had elaborated on her own invention, adding slyly, ‘I shall have more responsibility than I have here and the – the owner has promised to learn me – to teach me – how to make hats.’

  Miss Carr had eyed her sceptically. ‘And where is this wonderful place of employment, might I ask?’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly say, Miss Carr. She asked me to keep it completely confidential.’ Artfully, Violet leant closer and whispered. ‘She wants to get rid of the girl she’s got now and she doesn’t want her to get to hear that she’s being replaced.’

  ‘I – see,’ Miss Carr said slowly. ‘So you’re giving a week’s notice, I take it?’

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ Violet said regretfully and this feeling was real; she was very sorry to leave her position. She’d thoroughly enjoyed working in the grand store and would miss mixing with a better class of people than she believed her own family to be. And she said as much, adding pertly, ‘But if you feel you could give me a reference, Miss Carr, I’d be most grateful.’

  ‘I thought you said you’d already acquired another post.’

  ‘Oh, I have, I have,’ Violet said airily and then added flatteringly, ‘but a reference from someone like you, Miss Carr, might be so useful in the future.’

  ‘Mm.’ The woman regarded her for a moment and then appeared to relent. ‘Well, you have been a good and willing worker and whilst you’re leaving me in something of a predicament – ’ she sighed dramatically – ‘how I hate having to train someone new up – it would be churlish of me to refuse you.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Carr.’

  As Violet walked home at the end of her final day at the store, carrying the precious letter of recommendation in her handbag, she couldn’t help congratulating herself on how she’d been able to dupe the older woman.

  And now as Polly tried to comfort Miriam over the postponed outing – a special treat for the Longden family – she was worrying how she was going to manage without Violet’s contribution, albeit reluctantly given, to the family’s budget.

  Stevie, even if he got the job, would only be giving her a few pennies a week, but every little was going to help.

  There was a knock at the door and Polly jumped. When she opened it, she found Dottie Fowler there.

  ‘Hello, Polly. Can Miriam play ’cos Mam says we can’t go to the cel’brations on the common next week.’

  ‘Of course you can, Dottie. Come on in. You can both play in the bedroom, but don’t make a mess up there,’ she called after them as they pounded up the stairs.

  Polly busied herself making tea for her father when he came home, but she was anxiously listening for Stevie’s return.

  He came at last, beaming from ear to ear. ‘He’s given me a chance. A month’s trial he said.’ His expression sobered and he frowned. ‘He said, “So long as you’re not like that scallywag of a brother of yourn”. What did he mean, Poll?’

  Polly sighed. She’d no choice now but to explain it to Stevie. When she had finished, Stevie looked shocked. ‘I knew he was a bit of a tearaway. Likes a drink on a Sat’day night and isn’t above getting into a fight now and again. But – but I didn’t think he – he was a thief.’

  ‘He said he thought it was all right because Mr Wilmott had given us vegetables and fruit that were going off and that he couldn’t sell.’ She smiled wistfully at th
e memory of those dark, troubled times and the kindness of the man she hardly knew. ‘But Eddie started taking stuff that was still saleable and Mr Wilmott sacked him. He had no choice, but he’s a good man to give you a chance. I hoped he would because you’re nothing like your brother.’

  ‘No,’ Stevie said vehemently, ‘I’m not.’ He paused and then asked, ‘So you don’t think I’ll be getting any unsaleable stuff? Because, to be honest, I thought that would help us out more’n anything. I mean, I won’t get paid much.’

  ‘You’ll have to see. But you must only bring home what Mr Wilmott gives you himself.’

  Stevie nodded vigorously.

  In the middle of the week Leo said, ‘I’m taking you out tomorrow night. Violet can stay with the youngsters. She owes you that much.’

  Polly clapped her hands like an excited schoolgirl. ‘Where are we going?’

  Leo tapped her nose playfully. ‘You’ll see. It’s a surprise. But it’s not a meal, so have your tea first.’

  ‘Best frock, is it?’

  ‘Absolutely!’

  When Leo called for her the following evening, they walked up the street together arm in arm, declaring proudly to the whole world that they were ‘walking out together’. Standing in the doorway, Violet watched them go, scowling and resentful that she was forced to stay in when everyone else was out enjoying a fine, summer’s evening. She glanced down the street and saw Micky leaning against the wall of his own home. As he raised his hand to wave, Violet stuck her nose in the air, turned away and flounced back into the house, slamming the door so hard that the sound echoed down the street, reaching, as she’d fully intended it should, Micky’s ears. But Micky Fowler only smiled.

  Leo and Polly turned to walk up the High Street.

  ‘We’re going to the Corn Exchange. They’re showing pictures of the coronation. I thought you’d like to see them.’

  Polly beamed. ‘Oh, Leo, how lovely.’

  For the next hour or so, Polly and Leo sat in the darkness holding hands, watching the jerky scenes of the procession in London on its way to Westminster Abbey.

  ‘It’s the King,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, Leo, look at all his beautiful robes. Is that what they call ermine?’

  Leo smiled indulgently at her obvious enjoyment. It warmed his heart to see his Polly so happy. He squeezed her hand, silently vowing that he would always do his best to make her happy for the rest of their lives.

  Then came the Royal Naval Review at Spithead with the ships going through a series of, what looked like, to Polly, very complicated manoeuvres. And finally, there was the royal yacht and the King himself.

  ‘He does look very grand,’ Polly whispered, ‘but so serious.’

  ‘I expect it’s a serious business being King,’ Leo murmured. ‘A lot of responsibilities and they say he has a very strong sense of duty.’

  ‘Just like you, then,’ Polly teased and hugged his arm to her.

  Later, as they walked home through the dusk, Leo drew her into the shadows, put his arms around her and kissed her long and hard. ‘Oh, Poll, let’s get married soon. I do love you so. Don’t keep me waiting. I know I said a year, but let’s do it soon. Please, Polly.’

  She kissed him back soundly and whispered, ‘Oh, yes, Leo. Yes, please.’

  The following Saturday – the day of the postponed coronation festivities – Stevie was due to start his new job.

  ‘Can’t you come with us to the cel’brations?’ Miriam wailed afresh. Stevie knelt in front of her and took her hands. ‘I’ve got a job with the greengrocer along the High Street and I start today. I’m sorry to miss the fun – I was looking forward to it too – but this is much more important.’

  Miriam sniffed and nodded. Young though she was, she already knew that the family had little enough to live on, and she’d also understood that Violet wasn’t going to her job at that lovely shop any more, though the little girl did not understand the reason for it. Not yet.

  ‘So,’ Stevie was saying, ‘you go with Polly and Dottie and bring me back something nice. All right?’

  Miriam nodded, her curls bouncing.

  So, whilst Stevie, his stomach churning with excitement and a little trepidation, set off to begin his first job, Polly, with Miriam and Dottie skipping along beside her, set off for a day of jollification to celebrate the crowning of the new King.

  Thirty

  Stevie arrived home that evening, jubilant and bubbling with the success of his first day in proper work and expecting to be greeted by happy faces after their day’s outing. He struggled in with a box of half-rotten vegetables, declaring at once, ‘Mr Wilmott gave me these, Poll. I promise.’ He dumped the box on the table and grinned at the three girls sitting either side of the fireplace. His smile faded.

  ‘What? What’s the matter?’ When no one answered him, he said again, ‘He did give me this stuff, Poll. Honest.’

  ‘It’s not that, love,’ Polly said dully.

  ‘Then – what is it?’

  Violet, who hadn’t been able to go because her condition was now very noticeable, said, almost with a smug satisfaction, ‘There was trouble at the celebrations. A group of louts started a ruckus.’

  ‘They was fighting, Stevie.’ Miriam put in, her face still streaked with salty tears. She hiccuped as she added, ‘I tried to bring you summat – a balloon, but it got bursted.’ Fresh tears welled. ‘A horrible boy bursted it.’

  Stevie stroked her hair. ‘Don’t worry about me, love. I’m just so sorry your day’s been spoilt.’ He glanced again at Polly, raising his eyebrows in question. ‘But you’re both safe. That’s all that matters.’

  Polly met his gaze with troubled eyes. ‘Yes, we’re all right.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Stevie said, sitting down and preparing to listen. He could see that both his sisters were upset and needed to talk about it. ‘I heard they held some of the events on Wednesday after last week’s postponement. And everything went off all right then. So – what went wrong today?’

  ‘There were thousands of people there, Stevie,’ Miriam said, her tears drying now she had a willing listener. ‘All milling about and hardly any policemen.’ She cast a glance at Polly. ‘Leo was there. We saw him, but I don’t think he saw us. Least, he didn’t come and speak to us.’

  Violet laughed. ‘He wouldn’t want to be seen speaking to troublemakers.’

  ‘We weren’t making any trouble,’ Miriam said indignantly. ‘But your Micky was. He—’

  ‘That’s enough, Miriam,’ Polly said as Violet’s face fell.

  ‘He’s not my Micky any more, it seems,’ she muttered.

  ‘What caused the trouble then?’ Stevie said, trying to divert the conversation away from Micky Fowler again.

  Polly frowned. ‘I’m not sure, but someone said it was because they were trying to charge for admission to the grandstand when the sports were supposed to be free for everyone.’

  ‘And the crowd got nasty?’

  ‘Well, just some of them, I suppose. But when a few of them started protesting others joined in and – and it sort of spread. Folks were milling around the winning post and the races couldn’t take place properly. The officials seemed helpless.’

  ‘A policeman came on horseback, Stevie,’ Miriam put in. ‘And someone – ’ here she cast a swift glance at Violet before adding – ‘threw a stone, or something, and it hit the horse’s head.’

  ‘After that it was just chaos.’ Polly took up the tale. ‘The crowd flooded onto the course. And more folk started throwing things. They couldn’t run the races properly and—’

  ‘And Polly said we should come home. Out of the way.’

  ‘Quite right too.’ Stevie squatted down in front of her and took her hands. ‘I know it must have been awful to see, but . . .’

  ‘Stevie – Eddie was there.’ Polly glanced briefly at Violet before adding, ‘With Micky.’

  Before she could say more, Miriam cried, ‘It was Micky who threw the stone at the horse. We saw him. A
nd our Eddie was with him.’

  Horror-struck, Stevie stared at Polly. ‘Were they – I mean – did the police – ’ he swallowed painfully – ‘arrest them?’

  Violet screamed. ‘Oh no! No! Not Micky.’

  Polly and Stevie stared at her.

  ‘Oh, never mind about your brother,’ Polly said bitterly. ‘All you can think about is the lad who’s shamed you.’

  Violet burst into noisy tears, whilst Stevie said gently, ‘Poll, don’t have a go at her. It’s not her fault.’ He paused and then asked hesitantly, ‘Did Leo see what happened?’

  ‘I don’t know. He could have done.’

  ‘Then, if I was you, I’d expect a visit later.’

  When William came home, Polly whispered to the family, ‘Not a word to Dad. Not yet.’ They all nodded agreement and tried to carry on as if nothing had happened, but news travelled fast and bad news, it seemed, even faster.

  ‘Heard there was a bit o’ trouble at the racecourse then.’ He glanced at Polly and Miriam. ‘You both all right?’

  ‘Yes, we’re fine,’ Polly said swiftly, setting his tea before him. There was no point in lying to him or trying to make out it was nothing much. He’d hear the news all too soon and it would no doubt be reported in the local paper. ‘We came away, didn’t we, Miriam?’

  The young girl nodded and dipped her head so that her long hair hid her face. ‘They bursted my balloon,’ she muttered.

  ‘What did you say, lass?’

  Polly cast a warning glance at her sister. ‘Her balloon got burst – the one she was bringing home for Stevie. She’s upset about it, that’s all.’

  At the mention of Stevie William’s attention was diverted. ‘And how did you get on today, son? All right?’

  ‘Fine, Dad. Mr Wilmott gave me some veg.’

  ‘It’s what you’re eating now,’ Polly put in. ‘I cut all the bad bits out, but there was still enough for our teas.’