Saturday 29 April – late afternoon at Bull’s Bridge lay-by
Polly tore along the lay-by, looking for Marigold, glad to be back and hoping that Verity was there, and Sylvia, too. Yes, they’d gone into London together, but whether they’d stayed there she didn’t know. If not, she’d give Verity a bottle of cider, and Sylvia apples stored from the autumn; otherwise they’d keep. They were rather wrinkled, but still good, because she’d eaten one on the train.
She wondered what Granfer would think of the cider? Much the same as Saul perhaps, who had said, ‘’Tis all right for holidays, but not for normal times.’ She had laughed then, and laughed now as she passed Mrs Porter, who was heading for the town with her string bag. Polly wished she had brought back something for Jimmy, but never mind. She’d listen to his reading. She called after Mrs Porter, ‘I’ll come along later to hear Jimmy read, or he can come to us. Or perhaps he has homework to be marked? I had a lovely holiday, Mrs Porter, a simply lovely holiday.’
Mrs Porter waved and called, ‘That be good news, Polly.’ But she sounded a bit strange.
As Saul approached, Mrs Porter reached out and stopped him. Saul bent to listen and then shook his head. Mrs Porter patted his back and he walked on, kicking aside a stone. Polly shrugged. Oh well, perhaps everyone else was as tired as she’d been. She hurried on and saw washing fluttering on the line above Marigold’s hold. Well, someone was back. She started to run, but the clinking of the bottles would give the presents away, so she strolled, hoping Saul would catch her up.
She glanced over her shoulder, but Saul was talking to Steerer Brown now, who was shaking his hand. How strange. Further along, Ma Mercy on the butty York was calling something from her counter. Saul hurried to her. She handed him what looked like a scarf and gripped his hand, stroking it, before she disappeared along the top planks, while on Lincoln’s counter next to her Steerer Mercy tipped his hat.
She heard Saul call to Steerer Mercy, ‘I’ll cast yer off.’ He slipped the strap from the mooring stud and threw it onto the counter, and watched as Steerer Mercy tucked the tiller beneath his elbow, stood in the hatches, slipped the gear and was off. She heard the pat-patter of the engine from here as Lincoln motored out into the cut, picking up the butty as his stern drew level with the butty’s fore-end. It was all as it had been just three days ago, but it seemed the boaters thought she and Saul had been away forever, such was their attitude.
‘Polly – oh, Polly, how are you?’ It was Verity shouting from the roof of Marigold, along the lay-by, a bag of pegs dangling from her hand.
Polly called, ‘We had such a lovely time. I thought you might be in London, but you’re here.’
Verity looked confused, but then laughed. ‘It would seem so, or am I a mirage? We only had a day in town, Sylvia and I, that is.’
Polly shouted over the noise of the tannoy, ‘Did you have a good time? Every day was wonderful for us, and there were troops everywhere, British and GIs. Made me think of Al of Idaho, but I don’t think I would have recognised him if he’d come up and said “Boo” and waved a pair of stockings. Burton Bradstock is so pretty, but there was barbed wire along the cliff. After the war we’ll go, shall we, all of us? So write and tell Tom, thank you, for contacting Mrs Lamb.’
She quickened her pace as Verity slid from the cabin roof onto the counter, calling, ‘Are you really all right? You sound so—’
Sylvia interrupted from the butty-cabin doorway, cutting across Verity. ‘Verity, one of your sweaters is going to blow off – you’ve only pegged one side. Hello, Polly, fancy a cuppa?’
Sylvia jumped to the kerb, her blouse sleeves rolled up, and hurried to Polly, who had faltered, looking behind, because something wasn’t quite right. But no, there was Saul walking along with Thomo, who had hurt his hip on his last trip; his limp was bad, or was it just that Saul’s had improved to the point where it was non-existent? She sidestepped Sylvia, looking along the cut for Seagull and Swansong. There was Dog, sniffing. Ah, he must be with Granfer? But no, that was Thomo’s boat. She shaded her eyes, checking the chimneys of the moored boats. Where was Seagull’s with its extra brass ring?
Sylvia called, ‘Dog, look who’s here.’
Dog turned, then roared along, leaping at Polly, licking and whining. Polly handed her bag to Sylvia, and it clinked. Dog was barking and chasing her tail, then leaping at her again. Polly laughed, ‘Oh, Dog, oh darling Dog. You’re just the same, while everyone’s so …’ Dog wanted to play. Polly snatched an apple from the bag, and threw it. Dog roared after it.
Sylvia picked up the bag.
Polly said, ‘It’s cider from Dorset, and apples for you, Sylvia.’
Sylvia held on to the bag and slipped her arm through Polly’s. ‘Come on, tell us over a cuppa, and we’ll tell you about Lupino Lane in Meet Me Victoria.’ She raised her voice. ‘Come on, for heaven’s sake, Verity. You must have finished pegging up by now.’
Somewhere a motor sounded its horn. Elsewhere a child cried, a woman laughed. Polly stepped onto the butty, with Sylvia holding her arm, tightly. The bag clinked as Sylvia put it down on the counter. Verity ran along the motor-cabin roof, jumped down and over to the butty, slipping her arm around Polly’s shoulders as Sylvia carried the bag into the cabin.
‘I have broken biscuits for our cuppa; they were on offer in Southall,’ Sylvia called.
Dog leapt onto the butty roof, and Verity and Polly sat there with her. Polly knew that things only felt different because she’d been away. She listened to the barrage of chatter as Sylvia brought out the tea and biscuits, and she could smell supper cooking in the butty range. She looked again for Seagull and Swansong, but could see no sight of the chimney, and no sight of Granfer.
As Verity and Sylvia talked of the songs they’d heard at the theatre, and Sylvia sang the first verse of ‘You’re a Nice Little Baggage’, Verity shouted over her, telling Polly about Bill Fish, the cheeky, cheerful porter who hoped to marry Dot, but needed a promotion. ‘And oh, we didn’t know if he would get it, did we, Sylvia?’
Sylvia studied her tea, shaking her head. ‘It was really good fun, wasn’t it? I haven’t been to a London show ever, but the singing … It was as much fun as the pub.’
Silence fell for a moment, and Sylvia looked past Polly to Verity, as though asking a question.
Polly said, ‘Did you feel it seemed strange to come back, too? And where’s Seagull? Has Granfer gone on?’
Verity shook her arm, spilling Polly’s tea. ‘Oh, never mind that. It was just so lovely to see live theatre, and such excitement, even if it is just acting …’
On and on the two girls chattered, and now Verity was down on the counter, acting out a scene. But here too was Saul, at last, standing on the bank in front of Marigold. He had her grip, which he put on the motor counter. Polly watched him, not listening to Verity, not drinking her tea or eating her biscuit, because she could see his face.
At last she understood and slipped from the cabin roof, dropping her mug. It smashed on the counter. Dog barked, startled. Polly kept her eyes on Saul, as Dog jumped from the roof onto the counter, whining beside her. Dog’s hair was bristly, warm and solid as Polly gripped her collar, and nothing else seemed solid. Nothing.
‘Shut up, Verity,’ she yelled. ‘Just shut up, all of you.’
Silence fell. Verity was beside her, reaching out. Polly brushed her away. For minutes Saul and Polly just looked at one another. He held out his hand, and somehow she was standing next to him on the lay-by, just the two of them; he taller than her, with his limp gone, with Seagull gone and Swansong, too.
‘Granfer has gone to Lettie,’ she said. It wasn’t a question.
Behind her, on the butty, she heard Verity. ‘Oh, Polly.’
It was all there, in those two words. The truth that she had known, deep inside. How could she not, because she wasn’t a fool, but then again she was.
She looked at the girls, and then at Saul. ‘You all knew.’ She swept her arm along the moored boats. ‘Everyone knew, and no one told me, no one made me see. You can’t go, Saul. How dare you go. They don’t want boaters; you’re needed here. There aren’t enough of us women.’
Saul was standing so close she felt his breath as he said, ‘Mr Thompson said I can. My leg is well enough, and I is needed.’
Polly was confused. ‘Mr Thompson, what’s he got to do with it?’
Saul shook his head, ‘I don’t rightly know, but he’s War Transport, and Mr Burton—’
Behind her she heard Verity groan, and Sylvia jumped down beside Polly. Her voice was fierce as she grabbed both Saul and Polly. ‘You are to walk along this towpath, and you are to talk, not shout. Then you are to go, Saul, or you will miss your train.’ She heaved them round, her pale face looking stern, her curls bouncing. She pointed. ‘Walk to the end, away from the boats. Walk.’
Without knowing quite what she was doing, Polly put one foot in front of the other, as Saul clutched her hand. ‘I didn’t know how to tell yer, and when I tried something always interrupted us, and I didn’t want to bring yer pain till I knew. I didn’t know how to tell yer, because yer Will was dead, and how could I let you lose someone else? But I were driven, from inside. I asked Tom how I could try again with the officials. ’E said to try and get someone who knew someone …’
Polly stopped. ‘You lied,’ she said.
‘I never said nothing,’ he answered.
‘That’s the same as a lie,’ she muttered, a great and terrible rage sweeping over her. And she pushed past Ma Needson, who was smiling and saying ‘’Ow do.’ The netted bag fell from Ma Needson’s hand, and potatoes rolled along the concrete. Saul stopped and picked them up, while Polly stormed on.
Ma Needson probably knew, too; everyone did. Well, bugger the lot of them; she didn’t have to stay with people like this, who kept secrets, who supported the lie. She’d leave, go home, because Verity and Sylvia knew, too. And Bet? Yes, what about Bet?
She strode on, remembering Fran, who must have known at Easter about Granfer and Lettie, because someone had cut her off when she was about to say something. Yes, she’d go home, that’s what she’d do, and leave this lot behind. They weren’t her people, any more than Saul was. And what would her mother say, left with Joe because Saul was swanning off?
She swung round just as Saul straightened and handed the last of the potatoes back to Ma Needson, who patted his arm. Polly called, ‘Don’t pat him – he’s a liar, that’s what he is.’
She ran back now, heading for Marigold. She’d pack and go home, right now. But then she stopped. Saul had said Mr Burton had helped. Mr Burton? How did Saul know how to reach her old boss? And what about Joe? Had Saul told him?
Saul caught her up and just stood at her side, Dog at her other. Both seemed to be waiting, Dog’s ears were down, her tail between her legs. And Saul, though his head was held high, looked unbearably sad. Polly’s heart twisted, but a lie was a lie. She whispered, ‘Joe? What’s to happen to him?’
He held her gaze. ‘Yer ma said she’d ’ave him.’
Polly’s mouth went dry, and tears threatened.
Saul reached out, took her hand. She snatched it free. Somewhere a motor was heading out; she heard the wash, the hoot, the geese honking as they flew – where? A distant train screeched. He said, ‘I made her promise not to say. I made ’er, you understand. It were me. I didn’t want yer upset without cause, so I waited until I knew. But I had to try to go. Something’s about to ’appen, yer can see that, and I have something in me that makes me need to help. If I can read about it, I can’t not do something.’
She almost screamed, waving her hand at the cut, ‘What’s this, if you’re not doing something? What the hell are we girls doing – nothing? And the boaters – nothing?’
He shook his head. ‘Yer too good with words, my Polly. But all I can say is—’
‘What about Leon? He might come back? Where will you be? Oh yes, I know, fannying about with a gun somewhere? What about Maudie, if she’s found? You’re just walking away, that’s what you’re doing.’
‘There’s Lettie and Granfer, if Maudie’s found. Yer ma said she’d help and ’ave Joe. Leon’s goin’ to trial, so yer’ll all be safe.’
Polly bit down the tears, let the rage surge. ‘So, it’s all tied up. Mum’s made it easy for you. I expect she got Mr Burton to pull strings, and Dad would have known, too. Anything to split us up, eh? You know she doesn’t want a boater’s life for me, you know it. Saul, how could you do this?’
She was beating at his chest, shouting, hitting that precious face. He grasped her hands. ‘Shh, shh,’ he said.
She kicked him. ‘Get away from me, I never want to see you again. You’ve taken everything, because I can’t go home, can I? Not when I hate them, not when they’ve done what they always wanted, just like Verity’s parents. You’ll be killed, like Will.’
Suddenly there was nothing. No anger, no anything. She stopped hitting, she stopped speaking. Yes, it would be the same all over again. Just like Will, Saul’d be killed, and now they’d all lied to her, there was no one left. Saul let her arms go. She turned, looking along the bank, both ways. Dog sat by her side, leaning against her leg. Polly said to her, ‘At least I have you.’
She heard Saul say, standing close, ‘Yer have us all. We all love yer, I tells yer, Polly. I didn’t think they’d really ’ave me, so I said to say nothing, cos I say again, I didn’t want to cause yer pain if I didn’t have ter. I’ll be back, I promise I’ll be back, cos I will never stop lovin’ yer. So where would that love go, if I didn’t come home, my Polly?’
He touched her shoulder. She shrugged him off. ‘Get your train, and do what you like with your love.’
She turned away, heard Saul’s sigh and then his footsteps diminishing. She waited until she could hear them no longer, and then she trudged towards the Marigold to pack all her clothes, not looking for a last sight of him. But Sylvia and Verity blocked the lay-by. She sidestepped, and they came with her. She sidestepped the other way. Again they blocked her.
Polly dug her hands in her pockets. ‘I’m leaving the cut. You can run the ruddy boats yourselves. You knew and said nothing, and now Saul’s gone, on a whim, because of your damned boyfriend, Verity. That’s who he’s copying, and you all helped him and never told me.’
Verity opened her mouth, but it was Sylvia who came up close, staring into Polly’s face. ‘You know perfectly well, Polly Holmes, that it has been tearing at him for a while – probably for months, if not years. Something is about to happen, we all sense that, and Saul did, too. Look at the activity we see on the bridges as the military pass over them; think of the loads we need to haul, the hours people are working at the factories. Your Saul was driven by something deep, something with which he agreed, and you can call it what you will, but for him it was duty.’
Polly tried to push past. It was Verity who held her back now. ‘Listen, darling, to the oracle, because she’s right. And do stop this unseemly tantrum; you are making a perfect fool of yourself, and of all of us women boaters. Tom’s gone, too, and many others.’ Verity raised her head as though to breathe, then looked her friend fully in the face. ‘Polly, do grow up. You’ve had him for this long, now you have to let him go.’
Sylvia added, ‘After this ridiculous display, you can see why he didn’t want to tell you, because he knew how much it would hurt. And what if the powers-that-be had said no, or the doc had said his leg wasn’t up to it? Nothing was certain, and you’d have hurt like this earlier and all for nothing. If you let him go like this, it’s you who is absolutely in the wrong. You should admire Saul, and love him, for his protection of you. Yes, it might have been wrong, in retrospect, but it is how it is. We’re sorry if it’s made it worse, aren’t we, Verity? But it was from the best of motives. As it was for everyone.’
Verity had pulled out her cigarettes and was frantically lighting two. She passed one to Sylvia, who miraculously took it and stuck it in her mouth, took one drag and choked. She handed it on to Polly. ‘I wish I smoked just at this moment, but I don’t, so perhaps you should have it, calm you down.’
Verity checked her watch. ‘He’s probably gone, but it’s worth getting a wriggle on, to make amends. Chop-chop.’
Polly shook her head, dropping the cigarette and stubbing it out with her boot. ‘I don’t want anything of yours.’ Even to her, it sounded ridiculous.
The other two girls now stood to one side, and Verity gestured Polly past. Sylvia said quite clearly, ‘If you don’t go, it will dog your life. Saul is so fortunate to agree with what he is being asked to do.’
Verity muttered, ‘Enough of all that twaddle, Sylvia. Let me just say, Polly Holmes, you’ll regret it, if you go away. But if you do, I’ll pack your bloody clothes for you and chuck them – and you – in the cut. You can then drag yourself out, dripping and as wet as you already appear, and tantrum off to heaven-knows-where, with my boot up your arse.’
Polly stood her ground. ‘Well, let me tell you that I won’t be going to my parents, because they helped Saul in order to separate us.’
Verity slapped her now, right across the face. It knocked Polly back on her heels, and stung.
Sylvia gasped, ‘Verity, that’s uncalled for.’
‘Well,’ Verity said, ‘it’s what you do to hysterical idiots, isn’t it? For pity’s sake, idiot, get yourself after that fine young man, because you might never see him again – just like many, many thousands might never see their loved ones again. After doing so, you can then feel sorry for yourself. But I warn you, we have pheasant for supper and you’re needed here, in this crew.’ Her tone changed. ‘We really do need you, darling; you’ve held us together, and up on our feet, so let us do the same for you. Besides, we’re seasoned boaters with a reputation to uphold, you know that. And don’t be absurd. Your parents accept you and Saul; why, they’ve even taken on Joe.’
Polly cried then, great gulping sobs. Yes, she did have somewhere to go; yes, the cut was here for her, and her memories, just as she had memories of Will; and yes, she was behaving like a complete and utter idiot. She ran then, still crying, along the lay-by and through the yard. The guard at the gate called, ‘’E hung about for a bit, for yer, but he’s gone on. Has a train to catch, ain’t ’e?’
She tore through Southall until the breath was ragged in her chest. What had she done? But all the time her thoughts were saying that Saul might have felt he had to go, but her parents had done nothing to talk him out of it. She saw her mum’s outraged face when she first realised that Polly and Saul were in love; heard her words of disapproval. Yes, she had taken in Joe; yes, she had asked Saul for lunch when Joe first arrived, but she had never spoken of any future for Saul and Polly. Her mum’s words still resonated, clearer now than ever: ‘Marry up – marry a solicitor, someone like Mr Burton, but younger.’
She pounded along the pavement. What if he’d gone? But then she spotted his back view, his grip in his hand, his head hanging down. ‘Saul, Saul.’
He swung round, dropping the grip, unsure, smiling and then not. She saw him brace himself for more wounding words, but instead she flung herself into his arms.
‘I love you. Come back when it is over, do you hear me?’
His kiss was gentle. ‘I will. Yer know I will.’
She knew nothing of the sort, but nodded.
‘I’ll write to yer, cos I can do that, thanks to yer and Verity. She’s yer friend, and Sylvia, yer remember that; and don’t leave the cut, we need the cargoes.’ He picked up his grip. ‘I have to go.’ He was backing away from her. ‘Love yer parents, Polly, like they love yer. I wouldn’t let ’em tell you, I made ’em promise, but I’ll thank yer ma for the rest of our lives, because she ’elped me do it, cos she knew I must.’
Polly listened, watched and loved him, but her fury hadn’t really died, and as Saul disappeared into the station, past the stinking sandbags, she made for the telephone box, the pain tearing her into pieces.
She asked for the number and pressed Button A. ‘Mum?’
‘You know, don’t you, about Saul?’ her mum asked. ‘I’m sorry, but he needed to go and didn’t want you hurt unnecessarily, so requested secrecy.’
The pain was worse now. ‘You could have said Mr Burton wouldn’t help. But oh no, Saul’s gone and you have a replacement son, Joe; and I have a space for someone to fill – someone more suitable. I hate you. I will never see you again, or Dad.’
‘Polly.’ It was a shriek, full of pain.
Good, because it couldn’t begin to match her own feelings. She slammed down the receiver, resting her head on the glass of the telephone box. Her mouth tasted sour, her mind ran in circles. She was tired, and the holiday seemed a sham, and she walked out of the telephone box and back to the depot, and work.