A Mother’s Sacrifice Page 32
Polly nodded reluctantly and Harry could tell she wasn’t comfortable. He saw Helen out and then offered to make Polly a cup of tea, thinking that talking about Glenda might put her at ease.
‘Polly,’ he said, ‘I’ve still got some stuff of your mother’s, a bit of jewellery and her compact. While I’m brewing the tea, if you go upstairs to the first room on the left you’ll find them in the dressing-table drawer. I’m sure she would have wanted you to have them.’
When Polly left the room, Harry walked through to the kitchen. Sending Polly upstairs served another purpose. He needed time to think about how much money he could afford to offer the girl. She might have inherited the house in Kent, and also have a job, so she wasn’t exactly on her uppers, but when the baby was born she wouldn’t be able to work for a while. Babies weren’t cheap to run and at that thought Harry chastised himself. ‘Cheap to run.’ Huh, the baby wasn’t a car.
No, it was his grandchild. He just hoped that it would be all right and not born deformed or funny, but if it was, well, they’d have to face that problem. He wondered if it would be a boy or a girl. He hoped for a girl, a perfect, pretty little thing, just like her mother and grandmother. What a shame Glenda was going to miss out on this, but then again, at least she’d been saved from the shame and hurt of how the child had been conceived.
Polly came back downstairs, walked into the front room and nearly took Harry’s breath away. She was wearing Glenda’s pearls. ‘Polly, you’re the absolute spit of your mother and she loved that necklace. It suits you, too,’ Harry told her gruffly, his emotions all over the place.
‘You … you used to hit her,’ Polly said, at last finding her voice.
‘Yeah, I know, and I won’t blame you for hating me. I was a rotten bastard to your mother and if I had caught up with your dad, well, let’s just say it was a good job I didn’t. Look, love, I’m trying to say I’m sorry, but I’m not making a very good job of it. Your mother was a good woman and deserved better than me. I hope your dad treated her well and gave her a good life.’
‘He did and they were very happy together. I didn’t know until after they died that they weren’t married! All those years and they were living in sin. It’s funny really, I’m a bastard and now … now I’m carrying another one.’
‘Now then, don’t you go saying things like that, and anyway, what does it matter? Your mother was with your dad for donkey’s years, far longer than she was married to me, and as far as I’m concerned that makes her as good as his wife. When I look back now, I can see that I drove her off. I just wish I’d got the chance to tell her that I’m sorry.’
‘It sounds like you really did love her.’
‘Yes, I did, and I never stopped,’ he told her, glad to see that her fear of him seemed to have gone. He’d seen that same fear in Glenda’s eyes and he didn’t want to see it in her daughter’s. ‘Come on now, sit down. I’ve made the tea so let’s get down to business.’
Polly sat at the table, fingering the pearls, and then said, ‘I’m not sure about this. None of this Johnnie business is your fault so I don’t think I can take money from you.’
She’s a lovely girl, thought Harry, Glenda would’ve been so proud of her. Unlike some women she wasn’t out for what she could get, she was just a very scared and vulnerable young woman facing an uncertain future, with no parents or husband to help her through it. An idea began to form and he asked, ‘Is this the first time you’ve been to Battersea?’
‘Yes, though it isn’t far from friends of mine in Croydon.’
‘Battersea ain’t a bad place, and not far from here there’s a lovely park with a funfair, a boating lake, a zoo and fountains.’
‘That sounds nice.’
Harry pressed on. ‘It’s not a bad place to raise kids and I’ve been doing a bit of thinking. I know I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, I’ve hurt people, and it’s time I made up for it. I don’t think you should be left to cope alone, so what I’m offering you and that grandchild of mine is a home here with me. I’m not filthy rich or anything, but I’ve been on my own for a long time with nothing much to spend my wages on, so I’ve got a fair few bob tucked away. It means I can look after you both when it comes to money and I’ll treat you like the daughter I never had. I think it’s what your mum would have wanted from me and, after what my son has done, it’s the least I can do.’
‘But what about your friends and neighbours? I won’t be able to hide that I’m pregnant.’
‘It’s none of their business, but no doubt when they see I’ve taken you in and your belly swelling, they’ll assume it’s Johnnie’s. There’s no need for them to know that he’s your half-brother, and Helen won’t open her mouth.’
Polly began to cry, which Harry hadn’t seen coming. He jumped up and fumbled around for a hanky to give her. She took it, wiped her eyes, sniffed, and then sat looking down at the table. Harry hoped she was thinking it over. He gave her a couple of minutes and then said, ‘It’s up to you, love. I won’t be offended if you turn my offer down.’
To Harry’s surprise Polly suddenly jumped up and kissed him on the cheek, saying emotionally, ‘I don’t care about the money. I was just dreading being left on my own. After listening to all you’ve said, who better to live with than my baby’s grandfather?’
Harry found that he was dead chuffed at the thought of Polly moving in with him. His house had never been a home since the day Glenda had left, and it was funny how things worked out, almost turning a full circle.
‘That’s all sorted then,’ he said with relief, ‘and I don’t know how you feel about this idea, but if you own that house in Kent you could rent it out. It would give you a bit of independence, your own money, but of course it’s up to you,’ Harry said, not wanting to sound controlling.
‘I think that’s a brilliant idea,’ Polly said, smiling and looking so much brighter than when she’d arrived.
Another thought crossed Harry’s mind. ‘There’s just one more thing … about Johnnie. Do you still want to tell him about the baby?’
‘I don’t know. What do you think?’
‘Well, love, if he doesn’t hear it from you, there’s a chance he might hear it from someone else, but after what he’s done I don’t suppose you’ll want him involved in the child’s life.’
‘No, I don’t think I do,’ Polly said.
‘There’s no need to worry about that now. It’s going to be many years before he’s released so we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Come on, get that frown off your face. When the time comes, trust me, I’ll take care of Johnnie.’
‘Yes, I really do think I can trust you,’ she said, ‘and because I realise that now, there’s something else. I think you should see this … I found it in my loft. It … it’s a letter my mother wrote to Helen, but never posted. She … she says that … that she’s going to have a baby, but she doesn’t know who the father is.’
Harry frowned as he read the letter, the paper yellow with age, dated at the top December 1947. It hit him like a tonne of bricks and he reeled in shock. ‘This … this means you could be mine! My daughter!’
‘Yes, I could be, though in my mind Frank will always be my dad.’
‘Yes, well, he’s the one who brought you up so I can understand that,’ Harry said.
‘I haven’t told anyone else about this.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe it’s for the best that we keep it just between ourselves, and though I may never know for sure if you’re my daughter or not, this settles it, my girl. When are you moving in?’
Polly smiled. ‘I’ll have to go back to Kent to hand my notice in at work and to sort out tenants for the house, but once that’s done I’ll be back.’
‘I’ll be looking forward to it, and in the meantime I’ll get the spare room decorated. After that I’ll see about getting a cot, and a pram.’
‘There’s no need to buy them yet. The baby isn’t due for six months.’
‘Well, I can still look
around, check them out. After all, I only want the best for the nipper and for my girl!’
Polly grinned and, patting her stomach, she said, ‘Did you hear that in there? I think you’re going to have the best grandad in Battersea!’
Q&A with Kitty Neale
1. Where do you get your writing inspiration from?
My stories are mostly set in and around the area of London where I grew up, and my working class roots are reflected in the lives of my characters. My books tell of the hardships and challenges faced by many families in the post-war era. Inspiration will begin when a character and a realistic situation pops into my head. From there, a story will form, though I often find myself writing something completely different from what I originally planned.
2. How do you get inside your character’s heads as you write?
I often feel like an actor but one with many roles all in the same film! I literally imagine I am the character I am writing about, and in my head I even have different voices for them. I place myself in the scene, and look at my surroundings, but I have to switch quickly from one character to another which is where it is useful to have the different voices.
3. What tips would you give to those who want to try their hand at writing?
Just do it! I wish I had started years before I actually did. I found there was a lot to learn about setting out a book with regard to things like punctuation, past and present tense, viewpoints etc., but don’t get too hung-up on the technicalities. Write your book, learn as you go along and if you’re lucky enough to get published, listen to the advice of your editor.
4. What is your own favourite literary character and why?
It has to be Bridget Jones. I think she has many aspects to her character and most women will find something about her they can relate to. She’s intelligent and funny, yet often awkward and goofy. It’s refreshing to have a heroine who isn’t drop-dead gorgeous. In fact, she’s a bit overweight but still very sexy.
5. How long does it take you to write your books?
How long is a piece of string? It can vary, depending if I’m ‘flowing’ or not. On average, I would say four to six months, but that’s not writing all day, every day. The trick is to resist the urge to keep going back and adding or changing what has already been done.
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About the Author
Kitty Neale was raised in South London and this working class area became the inspiration for her novels. In the 1980s she moved to Surrey with her husband and two children, but in 1998 there was a catalyst in her life when her son died, aged just 27. After joining other bereaved parents in a support group, Kitty was inspired to take up writing and her books have been Sunday Times bestsellers. Kitty now lives in Spain with her husband.
To find out more about Kitty go to www.kittyneale.co.uk.
By the same author
Nobody’s Girl
Sins of the Father
Family Betrayal
Desperate Measures
Lost and Found
Forgotten Child
Lost Angel
Mother’s Ruin
A Father’s Revenge
A Broken Family
Abandoned Child
A Daughter’s Disgrace
A Family Scandal
About the Publisher
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Table of Contents
Part 1, 1947
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Part 2, 1967
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Q&A With Kitty Neale
About the Author
By the Same Author
About the Publisher