by Joan Jonker
But Polly held on to the battered suitcase. She was supposed to be a junior maid, Lucy wouldn’t be very happy at having to wait on her. ‘No, I’ll take it up, Mr Denholme.’
Mrs Nightingale was bristling. ‘Lucy’s busy serving breakfast, Mr Denholme. She can’t be spared at the moment.’
Polly’s eyes and the cook’s tone of voice weren’t lost on Charles. He warned himself to be careful not to put the girl in a position where she was out of favour with those she had to work with. ‘We’ll leave the case here, then, Polly, and you can take it up when Cook has told you what your duties are. I have already explained to Mrs Nightingale that today is not a normal day, and that tomorrow you will be at her disposal from seven-thirty until ten o’clock when the children begin their lessons. So now that I have seen you arrive safely, I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Mrs Nightingale, who I am sure will advise and help you. I will be going into the office until lunch-time, but if you have any problems, my wife will be here to listen to them.’
‘Thank you, Mr Denholme.’ Polly watched him leave with dismay. She was aware from Lucy’s lack of welcome and Mrs Nightingale’s cold response that she wasn’t wanted. Why, she didn’t know. She’d done nothing to upset them, so why had they taken a dislike to her?
‘Come along, Perkins, don’t stand there looking gormless.’ The cook pointed to the end of the long kitchen table. ‘There’s yer overall, put it on an’ start on those dishes in the sink. Lucy will be bringing more through as the family finish their breakfast.’
Polly put the overall on and rolled up her sleeves. Her mam had told her to be polite, but the cook wasn’t polite. She hadn’t asked her to do the dishes, she’d ordered her to. And a smile wouldn’t go amiss, either!
She was up to her elbows in soapsuds when an arm came around the side of her and dropped a stack of plates into the sink, causing the water to splash all over Polly’s clothes. She turned quickly, intending to ask the person responsible why she couldn’t have left the plates at the side instead of throwing them in the water, but Lucy’s raised eyebrows and look of hostility was daring her to complain. It was almost as though she wanted her to lose her temper. So biting on her bottom lip and rubbing the back of her hand across her chin where the suds had landed, Polly turned her back on the maid, deciding she wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. If she walked out now she’d be giving in to them. And she’d have to face the questions that would be asked of her from her family and friends, and the teachers at school. They’d think she was a failure, not up to doing the job. So with tears stinging the back of her eyes, she worked hard to keep up with the mounds of dishes that kept appearing.
It was a quarter to ten when Victoria Denholme walked into the kitchen and took the cook and maid by surprise. The only time their mistress appeared was at about four o’clock each afternoon to discuss the following day’s menu. They weren’t expecting her now as they sat at the long, scrubbed white table, drinking tea, eating toast and enjoying a light-hearted conversation while Polly stood at the sink finishing off the pans and cutlery. She had her back to the door and didn’t realise Mrs Denholme was in the room until she heard her speak.
‘Mrs Nightingale, has Polly had a drink and something to eat?’ Victoria’s face was stern. She could tell at a glance that the girl had not been included in the conversation and in all probability hadn’t even been asked if she would like a drink.
‘No, Mrs Denholme.’ The cook looked shamefaced. ‘I was waiting for her to finish the dishes then I was going to make her some fresh toast.’
‘Really, Cook, you do surprise me – and I have to say I’m disappointed. You were well aware that Polly’s due in the study at ten o’clock. Now please make her something to eat while she goes to her room to freshen up. And from now on it is up to you to see she is never late for the first lesson of the day. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, Mrs Denholme.’ The cook glanced over to where Polly was watching and listening. ‘Go to your room, Perkins, and get washed and comb yer hair.’
Polly smiled at Mrs Denholme on her way out. It was a smile of gratitude. Victoria waited until she was out of earshot before looking first at the cook, then the maid. ‘Her name is Polly and that is how I would like you to address her, do you understand?’
When their mistress had left, the cook turned on Lucy. ‘If we’re not careful we could end up losing our jobs. Mr Charles is taken with the girl, and from the sound of things, so is the mistress. I’ve no intention of being turfed out on the street, Miss Rebecca or no Miss Rebecca. So in future I’m goin’ to treat Polly as I treat you. After all, the girl’s done me no harm.’
‘But you know what Miss Rebecca said,’ Lucy cried. ‘And yer know how wicked she can be.’
‘Oh, I know how wicked she can be all right! I’ll never forget what she did to the maid we had before you. Got poor Rose the sack, that’s what the little faggot did.’
‘I know,’ wailed Lucy, ‘an’ she told me she’ll get me the sack if I don’t do as she says.’
‘You can please yerself,’ grunted Mrs Nightingale. ‘Me, I’m goin’ to do as I’m told by them what pays me wages, not what snooty Miss Rebecca tells me. If you’ve got any sense yer’ll do the same. Get out of that young madam’s clutches before it’s too late and yer find yerself on the street lookin’ for work.’
Justin was already behind his desk and Polly blushed with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure when he smiled and raised his hand in greeting. ‘Good morning, Polly.’
‘Good mornin’, Master Justin. Good mornin’, Mr Westly.’
‘And good morning to you, Polly.’ The tutor gave her a warm smile. ‘Did you manage to do the essay? It would help me understand what stage your education has reached.’
Polly produced a book from behind her back. ‘I’ve written a story about me friends. I hope it’s what you want.’
‘I’ll check while you’re doing the lesson I’ve set for today, which is a question and answer one on geography. You did say you were quite good at geography, did you not?’
Polly grinned, feeling that in this room she was amongst friends. ‘Well, I know New Brighton’s over the water, Mr Westly.’
He chuckled. ‘That’s as good a place to start as any.’
Justin too was amused. ‘Jolly good answer, Polly. I must remember to tell Father, he does so enjoy a joke.’
Mr Westly took the cheap penny exercise book and as he placed it in front of him he nodded to the extra desk that had been placed on the left of Justin, which meant he would be sitting between Polly and his sister. ‘That’s your desk and you’ll find everything you need inside. Master Justin will help you.’
Polly’s bright smile flashed again. ‘I’ll just watch what he does an’ copy him.’
‘Don’t copy my answers,’ Justin said. ‘I’m a real dunce.’
‘In that case you’d better copy me.’
Polly’s remark had them laughing and it was at that moment Rebecca barged into the room. She was in a filthy temper because her mother had refused to buy her a new party dress, and walking in on the happy scene added fuel to her anger. She gave each of them a withering look before crashing down on the chair behind her desk. ‘Close the door, Perkins.’
Mr Westly shook his head in dismay, Justin gasped, and Polly froze. They could sack her on the spot, do anything they liked, but there was no way she was going to be spoken to like that.
‘I said, close the door, Perkins.’ The words came through teeth clenched with rage. ‘Are you deaf?’
‘No, I’m not deaf. I heard you all right, but I have no intention of closing the door. You were last through it, you close it.’
‘I should jolly well think so!’ Justin, for the first time in his life, was ashamed of his sister. He’d put up with her tantrums over the years because it seemed the easiest thing to do. But she really had gone too far this time. ‘Good for you, Polly!’
‘She’s a servant.’ Rebecca had quite a pretty face, b
ut right now it was marred by the look of insolence. ‘She gets paid to do as she’s told.’
‘Not while she’s in this room, Miss Rebecca.’ Tom Westly dared to speak out because he knew Justin would back him if the girl went running to her father with the lies that came so readily to her lips. ‘Polly is a pupil, just as you are.’
‘How dare you put a common flower-seller on a level with me! Apologise right now or I shall tell Father the minute he comes in.’
‘There’s no need to wait for Father,’ Justin drawled, deciding he’d had enough of his sister’s bad temper and equally bad manners. ‘I’ll go and fetch Mother.’
‘Don’t bother, Master Justin.’ Polly pushed herself up from her chair. ‘I’ll close the door, but it’ll be on me way out. I don’t have to put up with the likes of your sister. My mam told me to be well-mannered and polite, but our neighbour’s cat’s got more manners than Miss Rebecca. And,’ she added defiantly, ‘it’s nicer-looking.’
Tom Westly was enjoying himself more than he ever had in the eight years he’d worked with the Denholmes. What a pity it would be if young Polly walked through the door and never came back. He wasn’t in a position to do anything about it, but the young master was. ‘Master Justin, I think perhaps you should go for your mother. I believe Miss Rebecca owes Polly an apology.’
Justin was halfway across the room when his sister pushed past him and banged the door shut. She knew she’d gone too far and didn’t relish a tongue-lashing from her parents. ‘For heaven’s sake, all this fuss over closing a stupid door! Now, can we get on with our lessons? This is supposed to be a classroom.’
Knowing this was the nearest to an apology they were likely to get, Justin touched Polly’s arm. His eyes were kind, sympathetic and bright with suppressed humour. ‘Sit down, Polly, please. I’d say the match was a draw, wouldn’t you?’
Polly couldn’t help but smile as she mouthed, ‘I’ll do better next time.’
If Ada had known the problems her daughter was having, it would have been another burden to add to her worry over Tommy. She couldn’t get him out of her mind. When it got to one o’clock she could bear it no longer. ‘John, can I ask yer a big favour?’
‘My dear Ada, of course you can.’ He studied her face. ‘I have noticed you’ve been very quiet today, but I put it down to your being upset over Polly. Is something else bothering you?’
‘It’s Tommy. He wasn’t a bit well yesterday and when I asked the Matron she said he’d had a relapse. I was wonderin’ if yer’d ring the hospital for me an’ see how he is?’
‘Shall I get the number and you can speak to them yourself?’
Ada shook her head. ‘I’m no good on the telephone, I wouldn’t know what to say. And I’m a coward, too, I’d be frightened of gettin’ bad news.’
‘The news won’t be any different if I ring, my love, but you poppy off to the kitchen and I’ll get through to them.’
Ada was spooning carrots into a vegetable dish when he came into the kitchen. ‘His condition is still the same.’
‘Is that all they said?’
‘Ada, hospitals are renowned for not giving information over the phone. But had Tommy’s condition worsened, they would have said so. If you’re concerned I’ll ring again later, just before you go home.’
‘No, John, that won’t be necessary. As you said, if he’d got any worse they would have told yer. But would yer mind ringing again temorrer for me? I am worried about him.’
‘I’ll ring every hour if it will ease your mind.’ John ran a finger down her cheek in a soft caress. ‘If I could I would take all your cares and worries away. You know that, don’t you, my darling? You know what my feelings are for you, how deep they are.’
Ada took his hand and pressed it to her face. ‘What I do know, John, is that I couldn’t have managed the last year without your kindness and affection. I would have been the loneliest woman in the world.’
Chapter Twenty
‘Yer look worn out, girl! Here, sit yerself down.’ Dolly moved a newspaper off the couch and pressed on her neighbour’s arm. ‘Take the weight off yer feet for a few minutes.’
Ada’s sigh told of the weariness she felt. ‘I could do with goin’ to bed and not gettin’ up for a month.’
‘I don’t know how yer’ve kept up.’ Dolly pulled a chair from the table and turned it to face her friend. ‘Yer’ve certainly had yer bellyful of worry the last six months. It’s a wonder yer haven’t had a nervous breakdown. Me an’ Les were sayin’ that only last night.’
‘I haven’t had time to have a nervous breakdown, Dolly. What with goin’ out to work, tryin’ to get to the hospital a few times a week, and me housework and shopping on top, it’s been a nightmare!’
‘But Tommy’s on the mend now, isn’t he? That should make yer feel a bit easier in yer mind.’
‘The doctor said he’s slowly beginning to respond, but to me he doesn’t look any different. And it’s getting on for two years, Dolly – two long years. But if I’m tired and fed up, can yer imagine how Tommy feels? It’s enough to drive him mad, lying in that place not knowing how long he’s in for, or even if he’s ever goin’ to get better. He’s got to the state where he’s lost interest in everything except me and the kids. At one time he used to talk about comin’ home and gettin’ a job, but he never mentions it now.’
‘Wait until he picks up a bit more, then he’ll come on in leaps and bounds, you’ll see.’
‘I could cope better if I wasn’t so blinkin’ tired all the time.’ Ada smothered a yawn. ‘I never realised how much I relied on our Polly until she’d gone. They say yer never appreciate what yer’ve got until yer lose it, and it’s true, both in Tommy’s case and our Polly’s.’
‘She’s settled in all right, hasn’t she? An’ I’ll tell yer what, they don’t half dress her well. That coat she ’ad on the other night when she came to see our Steve must have set them back a pretty penny – real velour it was.’
‘Yes, they’re good to her, no doubt about that. An’ she gets on well with them all, except the daughter – she can’t stand her. But I’ll say one thing about our Polly, she’s got her feet firmly on the ground. She won’t let them change her.’ Ada’s expression was proud. ‘She still wears her old coat when she goes down to help Sarah Jane. I thought Mr Denholme would put a stop to that, but no, when she has a few hours off she comes to see me for ten minutes then she’s down to Bold Street to give her adopted grandma a helping hand.’
‘There’s nowt like seeing life from both sides, girl, it’ll stand her in good stead when she gets older.’ The wooden chair creaked in protest when Dolly leaned her weight back on it. ‘I’ll ’ave to go down and meet this Sarah Jane one day, see what she’s got that I haven’t. Our Steve thinks the world of her, goes down on a Saturday straight from work come hail, rain or snow. Yer should see the bleedin’ face he pulls if I ask him to do a job, but he’d do anythin’ for her.’
‘She is a love,’ Ada said. ‘A real colourful Liverpool character – got an answer and a joke for everything. But I don’t think Sarah Jane is the main attraction. Steve knows our Polly will get down there if she possibly can.’
‘Aye, they’ve never wavered in their friendship, those two. She didn’t forget his birthday last week, sent him a nice card. An’ he’s savin’ up to take her to the pictures the week after next, on her fourteenth birthday. I told him he’s got to ask you first, so when he does, don’t let on I’ve said anything, pretend to be surprised.’ Dolly pursed her lips and nodded her head. ‘I’m beginning to think there’s a good chance of me becomin’ Polly’s ma-in-law one of these fine days.’
Ada lifted her hands in mock horror. ‘Heaven forbid that that should happen to a daughter of mine. A fate worse than death.’
‘Don’t get bleedin’ cocky, Ada Perkins, or I’ll biff yer one! Anyway, how come yer home this time of the day?’
‘Mr John said I looked terrible and made me leave early, with strict instructions to g
o to bed the same time as Joey.’
‘He’s a good boss to have, that feller. Yer certainly landed on yer feet with him.’
‘He’s the nicest man I’ve ever met, Dolly, and that’s the truth. I’d have been in Queer Street without him.’
Dolly was smiling but her eyes sent out the signal that her question was serious. ‘Nicer than Tommy?’
‘I wasn’t counting Tommy, he’s me husband and I love him. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see Mr John for the kind man he is, does it?’
‘No, it doesn’t, girl, as long as yer don’t forget yer’ve got a husband.’
‘I’ll never do that,’ Ada said. ‘Not in a million years.’
Ada was thinking of her husband as she ran the iron over one of John’s shirts. Her worries about him hadn’t lessened, because as far as she could see he wasn’t improving at all. And after two years, surely to God if he was going to get better there would be signs of it by now, but she couldn’t see any light at the end of the tunnel.
She was so deep in thought she didn’t hear John come up behind her, and when he touched her cheek she nearly dropped the iron. ‘Yer gave me the fright of me life!’
‘You were miles away, in a little world of your own.’ He cupped her chin and gazed into her eyes. ‘If you have any worries, my love, I wish you’d share them with me.’
‘I was thinking about Tommy.’ Ada turned her head and went back to her ironing. ‘I can’t understand it. He never talks about coming home now, doesn’t seem to have any will to live.’
John caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Polly standing inside the door. How long she’d been there he didn’t know, but there was a strange look on her face. ‘Hello, Polly, come on in, don’t stand at the door.’
Ada looked up with a smile. ‘Hello, sunshine.’ She shook the shirt before folding it neatly and hanging it on the clothes maiden. ‘I’m glad to see yer.’
There was no answering smile on Polly’s face as she stepped further into the room. ‘Isn’t me dad goin’ to get better?’