Polly's Angel (29 page)

Which was why they were now steaming slowly into Devonport dockyard but although this might make things difficult for some members of the crew Sunny realised that it did not worry him at all. He was studying hard and knowing he would be given some leave while the ship was undergoing repairs he was considering staying at the sailors' home in Plymouth instead of returning by rail to Portsmouth and his mother.

The truth was that Sunny had begun to find his mothers ‘guests' an embarrassment when he returned home unexpectedly, as he so often did. To find a boy of his own age or even younger at the breakfast table was somehow humiliating and though Sunny avoided such encounters whenever possible it did not make his leaves either easy or comfortable. But if he stayed in Devonport he could have some leave and get stuck into his books. He had another exam ahead of him and he was determined to pass, because he was beginning to enjoy his job. Signallers had to do a great many things other than learn how to read and send morse and to use the big Aldis signalling lamps for ship to ship messages. Folk thought it was all done by radio these days, but unless you wanted the enemy to know your every move – and secrecy was particularly important with the slow-moving ships in a convoy – you had to maintain radio silence once you were out of port. This meant that a signal, which could ideally be seen only by the ship to which it was addressed, was of the first importance, and Sunny had begun to realise that he relished the nature of his job and the standing which it gave him amongst the ship's crew. So he had studied on board ship whenever he was not actually on watch, and meant to pass this particular exam with flying colours so that he might, in the fullness of time, become a yeoman signaller, the right-hand man of his captain and someone who would indeed be of vital importance to his ship.

‘Hey'up la'! Dreamin' of your sweetheart or a nice cool pint?'

Sunny jumped and turned to face the speaker. ‘Dempsey! Warra' you trying to do, give me a bleedin' heart attack? I was just wondering whether to stay on Devonport and get some studying done. I've got an exam coming up and there's too much coming and going in me Mam's house for me to work. She won't know I've docked so there'd be no hurt feelin's although a week or so in the sailors' home ain't much bleedin' fun. If we were still livin' in Liverpool it would be different; I've a heap of pals there what'd let me work in their parlours if I were desperate but I don't know anyone in Pompey apart from me Mam – she's always busy . . .'

‘Why not come back wi' me, old feller, same as you did last Christmas an' you can see all your old pals. Jest ask for a warrant to the ‘Pool, ‘stead of one to Pompey. The skipper won't notice where you're bound unless you're not back in time. What say, old pal?'

It was a generous offer, but Sunny had no doubt that Dempsey meant every word and after only the slightest of hesitations he accepted.

So thus it was that Sunny left the
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later that day with his old friend Dempsey – both Liverpool bound. It had been a while since he had been to Liverpool and he was looking forward to seeing his old friends, particularly Polly. He had written to her at least once a week and she wrote back with great regularity, though the letters could only be sent and collected when he was in port which made the correspondence a somewhat jerky one, but it wasn't the same as meeting, he reflected now as he and Dempsey strode towards the station. Meeting Polly would be wonderful – he just hoped she could arrange for some time off so that they could see more of each other.

There were his old friends, too. A good few of them had joined up, mostly going in the navy, as he had, so maybe there would be others on leave, too. And he liked the Dempsey family though he appreciated that with the overcrowding in their small house, studying for his exams would be difficult. However, Mr and Mrs O'Brady seemed like the sort of parents who would want a feller to get on. It was quite possible that when he told them he needed somewhere quiet to study, they might offer him the use of their front parlour, which would naturally enable him both to see more of Polly and to win her parents over.

On the station he and Dempsey learned without surprise that their train was running four hours late, so they decided to go back into the town and get themselves a meal – in fact they were on their way out of the station when something else occurred to Sunny. He would send Polly a telegram telling of his imminent arrival so that she might prepare her parents and, possibly, even meet him. He told Dempsey what he meant to do and the two young men went straight to the nearest Post Office where Sunny wrote and discarded half a dozen telegram forms before deciding that brief was best.

‘That took you long enough,' grumbled Dempsey as Sunny rejoined him on the pavement. ‘You and your girlfriends, old feller! Now let us get ourselves some grub.'

Polly was home from work and making tea when the knock came at the door. Since her mother now did war work, slaving away at Littlewoods, off Hanover Street, making parachutes for the Air Force on a huge commercial sewing machine, Polly and Peader between them quite often made the tea.

‘I'm not as young as I was,' Deirdre would say as she came across the kitchen, to drop wearily into a chair and accept the proferred cup of tea which either her husband or her daughter would be sure to make as soon as they heard the latch on the gate click. ‘I tell you, war work pays well and we have some fun, the girls and meself, but I'm fair wore out by the time I catch the perishin' tram home.'

So what with the hard work and the tram journey on a vehicle crammed with other tired workers, naturally it was a relief for Polly's mammy to find that the potatoes had been peeled, vegetables such as cabbage or carrots prepared, and some sort of main dish got ready by Polly. Peader was handy about the house and getting handier, but most of the actual cooking was done by Polly. A day sitting behind a typewriter and running messages was not particularly tiring, and besides, she liked to make a meal. The shortages of almost everything unrationed made meals a challenge although Polly was glad she rarely had to do the marketing. If one saw a queue outside a food shop one joined it so Peader was largely responsible for the shopping since he had more time to spare. It gave her a far greater sense of achievement than typing boring letters for old Mr Slater.

So when the knock sounded Polly ran to the door and took the small yellow envelope and found it was addressed to herself. For a moment her heart did a very peculiar tap dance of fear, for did she not have brothers in the forces, and friends, and a mammy who worked the other side of the city and could easily be in some sort of trouble? So without delay she tore the little envelope open whilst behind her, Peader said anxiously: ‘What is it, alanna? Not bad news, I hope to God.'

Peader had been sitting in the front parlour, with account books spread around him and his glasses perched on his nose. Naturally, Polly realised, he would have seen the telegram boy through the front window, and would have wondered, as she had.

But right now it was easy to reassure him. ‘It's all fine and dandy, Daddy,' she said, popping into the parlour and waving the short telegram in the air as she entered the room. ‘It's from me old pal Sunny, so it is. He's coming home on leave, should be in the city tonight, he just dropped me a wire to let me know.'

Peader's anxious look vanished at once and Polly realised that the telegram had done Sunny a good turn, even though he had probably not thought of it in quite that way; because he was so relieved that nothing bad had happened to any of his sons, Peader positively beamed at her.

‘And he's goin' to visit us, no doubt,' he said heartily. ‘Well, there's a thoughtful way to behave, alanna. And telegrams cost money, so they do. I hope he'll come round and see us as soon as he's able.'

Polly, assuring her father that no doubt Sunny would do so, returned to the kitchen and her work of dipping slices of liver into seasoned flour prior to frying it in the big pan with the onions she had already sliced and wept over; she smiled gleefully to herself.

It would be lovely to see Sunny after all this time. Oh, and Grace might meet him, because she would be arriving back for her leave the day after tomorrow. Polly frowned at the thought. She wondered how long Sunny's leave would be. She was longing to see him again, of course she was, but she could scarcely expect Grace to want to play gooseberry to the pair of them, and Grace was her best friend. If it came to a choice, Polly would plump for Grace every time. Still, what was the point in meeting trouble halfway? Grace had a week's leave but Sunny's was bound to be shorter. They might meet – that would be rather nice – but then Sunny would go back to Portsmouth and she and Grace would be able to enjoy themselves together as they had planned.

Sunny, knowing nothing of Polly's thoughts, however, took his time getting ready to go and see Polly the following evening. He knew from her letters that she worked for the Reliant Insurance Company during the week, which was on Exchange Flags, and had decided that it would be safer to meet her out of work, because you could never tell with parents. They might let bygones be bygones and treat him in a friendly fashion, or they might decide that they still did not want their little girl mixing with the likes of him and treat him coldly. In which case, he thought now, brushing his best bell bottoms with Dempsey's clothes brush, it might be as well to have a word with Polly first. If she gave him the go-ahead he would walk home with her and suggest going to a flick; but if she said her parents were still doubtful of him, they would at least be able to discuss what best to do.

Fortunately, Sunny was so eager to see his young friend that he arrived at the offices at four thirty, believing that she left off work at five, but he underestimated Polly's excitement at the thought of seeing her old pal again. Polly had got special permission to go at four thirty and as he arrived at the statue in the middle of Exchange Flags there was Polly, tripping down the steps of her office, not even looking around for him but heading in the direction of the tram stop.

For a moment Sunny stood staring, taking in the changes. His little Polly had been a lively and affectionate girl; now she was a young woman. She wore a white blouse and a navy skirt and carried a dark jacket of some sort over one arm, for it was a warm afternoon. She was bare headed, but the delightful bouncy curls that he remembered were pulled back from her face and tied into a bun at the nape of her neck with a piece of black velvet ribbon. She did not even glance round her as she crossed the flags so Sunny shouted.

‘Hoy, Poll!' he called, and as she turned towards him, it suddenly seemed the most natural thing in the world to fling his arms around her, lift her off her feet, and give her an exuberant hug. ‘Oh, Polly, ain't you grown up! And aren't you still the little smasher I remember! Give us a kiss!'

Polly, blushing a most becoming shade of rose-pink, laughed up at him and kissed his cheek, then pushed him back a bit so that she, in her turn, could take a good look at him. ‘You're taller,' she said in a rather awed tone. ‘And . . . and your hair's even more gold and you're brown as brown . . . Oh, Sunny, it's just wonderful to see you, so it is.'

‘It's nice to see you too, beautiful,' Sunny assured her. He took a quick look round, then drew her close again and bent to kiss her mouth, though she wasn't standing too much of that, he realised as she shoved heartily against his chest. ‘Oh, Polly, don't keep me at arm's length! It's been so long, and I've thought of no one but you ever since—'

‘Liar, liar, kecks on fire.' Polly chanted the old school taunt in a hushed but laughing tone, but she blushed even deeper as she did so, Sunny was pleased to notice. ‘I bet you've had twenty or thirty girlfriends since you and me went our separate ways. Not that it matters. It's now that matters, isn't it, Sunny? And you're coming home to tea, of course . . . Don't worry about Mammy and Daddy, they'll be right pleased to see you, they were so happy when your telegram arrived.'

‘Happy?' Sunny said wonderingly. He could not for the life of him see why a telegram from him should have made Polly's parents happy, even if they had quite forgiven him for his previous misconduct.

‘Well, yes,' Polly said. She dimpled up at him, mischief clear in her glance. ‘You see in wartime, everyone thinks that a telegram would be bad news, and I've brothers in the forces and me pals and all . . . so when I read your telegram out, they were just as pleased as could be. And Daddy said you were thoughtful to have sent it! So you'll come home with me, won't you, and have your tea wit' us?'

‘Thanks very much, I'd like to,' Sunny said, really gratified by Polly's words. They weren't bad old sticks, the O'Bradys, he decided, glancing down at Polly's animated face close to his shoulder, and they had the prettiest daughter although he didn't approve of her new hairstyle.

He said as much as they walked towards Tithebarn Street where they would catch a number 16 tram for home. As he spoke he put a hand up and tried to loosen her hair but it felt as though the ribbon had been glued into place and Polly, though she laughed, pushed his hand away and shook her head at him. ‘It takes me half an hour to get me hair flattened and tamed,' she said severely. ‘I've growed it and growed it but it won't go straight, it just loves to curl and curls aren't right for working in an office, or me boss doesn't think so at any rate.'

‘Well, I'm not your boss,' Sunny said as he put his arm round her and squeezed her waist. She really was a cuddlesome armful and the soft blonde hair so near his face smelled of sunshine and primroses. ‘Wish I was, though – why don't you join the Navy and come aboard the sloop
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so's we could be together all the time? You could be me cabin boy when I'm captain of the ship, like I will be one day.'