Christmas at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 27
‘It goes very well with… whatever it is you’re wearing.’ Polly had got dressed in a hurry.
She kept staring at the ring, her eyes full of tears.
‘You’re part of my life,’ she said, slowly. ‘The most important part. Maybe you should come after all.’
‘The thing I love most about you,’ said Huckle, ‘is your decisiveness.’
She didn’t smile, just kept staring at the ring, shaking her head. Then, finally, ‘Okay, stay,’ she said. ‘Look after Neil. I’ll call you if I need you.’
Huckle pulled her forward, and she buried her face in his chest once more.
‘Are you sure?’
She nodded and attempted a weak smile.
‘And if I come out shouting GUN IT!, we break for the border, okay?’
‘Okay,’ said Huckle.
He watched her small frame disappear into the vast hospital, looking very alone. Her head was held high; you wouldn’t have known from looking at her the turmoil she was in. That’s my girl, he thought.
Neil eeped enquiringly.
‘I don’t know either,’ said Huckle. And he left the bike on the grass verge and went off in search of coffee.
Chapter Fifteen
It was slightly absurd, Polly thought as she looked out for Carmel, who’d said she’d be waiting for her by the entrance, that it had never crossed her mind that she might be black. Too long living out in the country, no doubt. It didn’t matter, though, as the soft-voiced woman with the very short hair came directly towards her. Her face was drawn.
‘Sorry. Sorry, are you… are you Polly?’
That was it, Polly thought later. The final chance; her last opportunity. She could have lied, could have said no, sorry, you must have someone else in mind. She could simply have turned round, walked back out into the exquisite December morning.
The woman’s hands were trembling, Polly noticed. Trembling almost as much as her own, which she’d jammed in her jeans pockets.
She cleared her throat.
‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘Yes, I am.’
The hospital was vast. Endless pale, identically lit corridors. It reminded Polly oddly of a ship, crewed by men and women in green scrubs and white tops, sailing – well, where? From birth to death, she supposed. Travelling on. Pregnant women walked slowly up and down, interspersed with the elderly; people were wheeled around, some missing limbs, many pale and grey-faced. Carmel didn’t seem to notice. But then she wasn’t desperately trying to hang back as Polly was; wasn’t trying to spin out time before some kind of reckoning had to be met.
‘He saw you in the paper,’ said Carmel. ‘He stared at it for ages. I didn’t know what was up with him.’
She looked at Polly, really looked at her. Then she laughed.
‘What is it?’ said Polly, thrown. She twiddled her new ring, a talisman to remind herself that things weren’t so bad, no matter how strange the situation she found herself in.
‘You… I mean, it’s undeniable. Do you remember when Boris Becker had a baby in a broom cupboard?’
Polly didn’t say anything, and Carmel’s face dropped.
‘I’m so sorry, love. I’m just nervous.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I knew I’d say the wrong thing. I’m so sorry. I’m…’
She looked at Polly again, then turned her face away, shaking her head.
‘You see, until the paper… and until he got sick the first time… I had absolutely no idea you existed.’
Polly hadn’t wanted to hear it, but there it was. She was invisible. She had been airbrushed out of his life completely, just as she had always thought. She came to a halt in the middle of the corridor.
‘You didn’t know?’
Carmel stopped beside her.
‘No. Not until two weeks ago.’
‘You never knew anything about me?’
Carmel shook her head. ‘I thought he told me everything.’ She paused. ‘Turned out I was wrong.’
‘What did he say?’
Carmel sighed. ‘Oh Polly, I wouldn’t want to… I mean, your mum…’
‘Forget about my mum,’ said Polly, shaking with anger. ‘He did. Tell me. What did he say?’
‘He said it was a one-night stand,’ said Carmel. ‘He was a travelling sales rep. He said it had just happened…’ She gave Polly a look. ‘We were married very young. He travelled about. His family… They didn’t want him to marry me in the first place. Things were a bit different back then.’
Polly nodded.
‘He calmed down, you know. After the children. He just got married young and he was a good-looking chap, and there was a lot of opportunity…’
It sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
‘My mum was not an opportunity,’ said Polly, with barely concealed fury.
Healthcare workers and patients were having to move around them, standing stock still in the middle of the floor.
Carmel shrugged.
‘No. No. I’m sorry. I’m saying the wrong thing again. You’re right. It was just… I’m so sorry. I think it was just one of those things that happened.’
‘I’m just one of those things that happened?’
‘Oh dear,’ said Carmel. ‘I’m making things worse. I’m sorry. You have to realise this was as much of a shock to me as it is to you. And when he saw you in the paper… He’d been ill already, and he just gave the biggest sigh. Like it was a weight on his chest. I have never known a man apologise so much.’
Polly blinked in fury.
‘I imagine there was probably more than an apology back then,’ she spat. ‘He probably offered to get rid of me.’
Carmel stared straight ahead.
‘I don’t know,’ she said.
Polly thought back to her mother’s face: so perpetually weary, disappointed in the world. She tried to imagine what must have happened when Doreen had realised she was pregnant. Did she go to the doctor? Twenty years old, but so sheltered, still living at home; she must have been terrified.
Did she turn up at his work when she found out? Did she go round to his house, to be met by this gorgeous, immaculately groomed woman, and bottle it? Did she trail home afterwards, tears running down her face, all her hopes and dreams for the future gone, exploded in one night’s madness; one night Polly’s so-called father professed to barely remember? A night that meant exactly what she had always suspected: nothing. Nothing at all. She meant nothing.
She kept staring at the ring, her eyes full of tears.
‘You’re part of my life,’ she said, slowly. ‘The most important part. Maybe you should come after all.’
‘The thing I love most about you,’ said Huckle, ‘is your decisiveness.’
She didn’t smile, just kept staring at the ring, shaking her head. Then, finally, ‘Okay, stay,’ she said. ‘Look after Neil. I’ll call you if I need you.’
Huckle pulled her forward, and she buried her face in his chest once more.
‘Are you sure?’
She nodded and attempted a weak smile.
‘And if I come out shouting GUN IT!, we break for the border, okay?’
‘Okay,’ said Huckle.
He watched her small frame disappear into the vast hospital, looking very alone. Her head was held high; you wouldn’t have known from looking at her the turmoil she was in. That’s my girl, he thought.
Neil eeped enquiringly.
‘I don’t know either,’ said Huckle. And he left the bike on the grass verge and went off in search of coffee.
Chapter Fifteen
It was slightly absurd, Polly thought as she looked out for Carmel, who’d said she’d be waiting for her by the entrance, that it had never crossed her mind that she might be black. Too long living out in the country, no doubt. It didn’t matter, though, as the soft-voiced woman with the very short hair came directly towards her. Her face was drawn.
‘Sorry. Sorry, are you… are you Polly?’
That was it, Polly thought later. The final chance; her last opportunity. She could have lied, could have said no, sorry, you must have someone else in mind. She could simply have turned round, walked back out into the exquisite December morning.
The woman’s hands were trembling, Polly noticed. Trembling almost as much as her own, which she’d jammed in her jeans pockets.
She cleared her throat.
‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘Yes, I am.’
The hospital was vast. Endless pale, identically lit corridors. It reminded Polly oddly of a ship, crewed by men and women in green scrubs and white tops, sailing – well, where? From birth to death, she supposed. Travelling on. Pregnant women walked slowly up and down, interspersed with the elderly; people were wheeled around, some missing limbs, many pale and grey-faced. Carmel didn’t seem to notice. But then she wasn’t desperately trying to hang back as Polly was; wasn’t trying to spin out time before some kind of reckoning had to be met.
‘He saw you in the paper,’ said Carmel. ‘He stared at it for ages. I didn’t know what was up with him.’
She looked at Polly, really looked at her. Then she laughed.
‘What is it?’ said Polly, thrown. She twiddled her new ring, a talisman to remind herself that things weren’t so bad, no matter how strange the situation she found herself in.
‘You… I mean, it’s undeniable. Do you remember when Boris Becker had a baby in a broom cupboard?’
Polly didn’t say anything, and Carmel’s face dropped.
‘I’m so sorry, love. I’m just nervous.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I knew I’d say the wrong thing. I’m so sorry. I’m…’
She looked at Polly again, then turned her face away, shaking her head.
‘You see, until the paper… and until he got sick the first time… I had absolutely no idea you existed.’
Polly hadn’t wanted to hear it, but there it was. She was invisible. She had been airbrushed out of his life completely, just as she had always thought. She came to a halt in the middle of the corridor.
‘You didn’t know?’
Carmel stopped beside her.
‘No. Not until two weeks ago.’
‘You never knew anything about me?’
Carmel shook her head. ‘I thought he told me everything.’ She paused. ‘Turned out I was wrong.’
‘What did he say?’
Carmel sighed. ‘Oh Polly, I wouldn’t want to… I mean, your mum…’
‘Forget about my mum,’ said Polly, shaking with anger. ‘He did. Tell me. What did he say?’
‘He said it was a one-night stand,’ said Carmel. ‘He was a travelling sales rep. He said it had just happened…’ She gave Polly a look. ‘We were married very young. He travelled about. His family… They didn’t want him to marry me in the first place. Things were a bit different back then.’
Polly nodded.
‘He calmed down, you know. After the children. He just got married young and he was a good-looking chap, and there was a lot of opportunity…’
It sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
‘My mum was not an opportunity,’ said Polly, with barely concealed fury.
Healthcare workers and patients were having to move around them, standing stock still in the middle of the floor.
Carmel shrugged.
‘No. No. I’m sorry. I’m saying the wrong thing again. You’re right. It was just… I’m so sorry. I think it was just one of those things that happened.’
‘I’m just one of those things that happened?’
‘Oh dear,’ said Carmel. ‘I’m making things worse. I’m sorry. You have to realise this was as much of a shock to me as it is to you. And when he saw you in the paper… He’d been ill already, and he just gave the biggest sigh. Like it was a weight on his chest. I have never known a man apologise so much.’
Polly blinked in fury.
‘I imagine there was probably more than an apology back then,’ she spat. ‘He probably offered to get rid of me.’
Carmel stared straight ahead.
‘I don’t know,’ she said.
Polly thought back to her mother’s face: so perpetually weary, disappointed in the world. She tried to imagine what must have happened when Doreen had realised she was pregnant. Did she go to the doctor? Twenty years old, but so sheltered, still living at home; she must have been terrified.
Did she turn up at his work when she found out? Did she go round to his house, to be met by this gorgeous, immaculately groomed woman, and bottle it? Did she trail home afterwards, tears running down her face, all her hopes and dreams for the future gone, exploded in one night’s madness; one night Polly’s so-called father professed to barely remember? A night that meant exactly what she had always suspected: nothing. Nothing at all. She meant nothing.
