Polly's War Read Online Free PDF

him, since it was all the time they were to have.
    Missing, presumed killed in action . Cold, unfeeling words that would live with her for the rest of her life. How could anyone presume such a thing. Yet she knew that to continue to hope year after year was a kind of death in itself. She’d seen it happen to neighbours, to Doris-next-door for one. Mrs Shaw at the end house for another. Even after they’d sent back what was left of her eldest boy, she still left his razor out on the shelf, just in case.
    Lucy could never do that. It wouldn’t be fair on Sarah Jane or Sean. She’d taken the children upstairs to her room and explained it all, as carefully as she could. They’d looked at her dry-eyed and uncomprehending. Then, as if seeing their bewilderment brought it finally home to her, it had been Lucy who wept, which in turn started Sean off, and Sarah Jane who had comforted them all.
    After that Polly brewed tea, pot after pot, as if the hot steaming brew could put everything right. Sarah Jane put on her pink party frock, Lucy her best blue costume in an attempt to celebrate Benny home on leave, though her heart was no longer in it. And as if things weren’t bad enough, a row broke out as soon as Charlie emerged from the front parlour to find this young stranger lounging in his favourite chair by the kitchen fire.
    ‘I suppose you think you’re the only one who’s suffered during this dratted war?’ Charlie demanded, prodding a surprised Benny in the chest with one finger. ‘Well let me tell you there’s many a family round here can say different. Mary Lee for one. She went out to the Co-op for a bag of rations and came back to find her house and half of Hardman Street had been blasted off the face of the earth. There were many such.’
    ‘It’s good to see you too, Charlie,’ Benny drily commented. ‘How are you?’
    ‘He’s not been too well and that’s the truth.’ Polly flapped around the pair of them trying to keep the peace. ‘Hush, Charlie. Don't lay into him the minute he gets home. Glad we are to have our boy safe with us at last, are we not? Now sit   down and drink your tea and I’ll fetch you a bite of summat to eat.’ She tried not to meet her son’s puzzled gaze for Charlie had once been the gentlest of stepfathers. Whatever was ailing him was doing his temper no good at all.
    People came and went all afternoon. Gran refused to emerge from the Anderson shelter as usual, and the whole day took on a deep sense of unreality. They at least remembered to thank Aunt Ida for her contribution of a tin of spam and Uncle Nobby for enough lettuce and tomatoes from his allotment to turn them all into rabbits. But nobody felt like eating, for all the sacrifices that had been made to provide such a spread.
    Every now and then Polly would squeeze Lucy’s hand or whisper that presumed only meant the authorities hadn’t the first idea where he was. Some sort of bureaucratic mix-up and he was even now on his way home. Lucy tried to find comfort in these words and failed.
    The only time any of them truly managed to lift their spirits was for the sake of the children. Later that evening, Sean, bewildered by the strangeness of what should have been an extra special day, marched into the kitchen and made a grab for his uncle’s leg. ‘Have you not fetched me a present, Uncle Benny?’
    Benny, enjoying a glass of stout and a quiet read of the paper while his mother and Lucy washed up and tidied the table around him, gazed mystified about the room. ‘Did you hear summat, our Lucy? I reckon we’ve got a squeaking mouse in the house.’
    ‘I hope not,’ Polly said, with equal seriousness.
    ‘Well if we have, don’t expect me to oil it,’ Benny warned, making them all laugh and lightening the tension a little. Sean squealed with delight as his uncle swung him upside down before setting him back on his feet and suggesting he dig deep in his rucksack. ‘Fancy me forgetting. Fetch Sarah Jane. Go on, you.