Free Forgive and Forget by Margaret Dickinson Page B

Longdens and for the city folk settled into a new routine. Things could never be quite the same as they had been before, either in the family circle or in the wider community. The city had been cruelly hit by the tragedy. Over one thousand people of all ages and from all walks of life had suffered with the disease and there had been more than a hundred deaths. The Council promised to take steps to improve the water supply but, whatever they did, it would take some time to achieve. There was still a lot of wrangling between those in authority and the public, but now, thankfully, William did not involve himself with it.
    Polly could not concern herself with the wider issues; her daily life was difficult enough. She worked from early morning until last thing at night, cooking for the family, washing, cleaning the house and caring for the baby. Thankfully, no one else in the family had contracted the disease and though, eventually, the citizens of Lincoln were assured that their water supply was now safe, Polly – no doubt along with many others – continued to boil all the water they used for drinking and cooking.
    Polly Longden wasn’t going to take any chances.

Twelve
     
    Polly had no heart to take the younger ones to the annual horse fair that came to Lincoln in April. The previous year William and Sarah had taken them, Stevie, just turned four, riding on his father’s shoulders to get a better view and Violet holding her mother’s hand. Only Polly and Eddie had been thought old enough to be trusted to wander about on their own. Horses lined both sides of the High Street, being trotted up and down when a buyer seemed interested. And then there was the sheep fair, and the pleasure fair that came around the same time, with all manner of stalls and rides. Polly’s favourite was the helter-skelter – climbing to the very top and then whizzing round and round and down and down, the view around flashing by in a blur. And a huge treat had been a toffee apple each. As she remembered, she could almost taste the sweet sticky toffee with the tangy apple beneath. Violet had dropped hers and cried floods of tears until Sarah, relenting for once, had bought her another.
    Tears filled Polly’s eyes as she thought about the carefree happiness of that day and knew it could never come again.
    ‘I can’t afford for us to go to the fair this year,’ she told a tearful Stevie, ‘but we can go and watch the horses if you like.’
    So, on the day the horses were due to arrive, pushing the unwieldy perambulator carrying Miriam, she took him into the centre of the city to watch the horse-trading.
    ‘Why, there’s hardly anyone here,’ she gasped in surprise. Only a few horses and their dealers had gathered in the High Street. ‘Where is everybody?’
    Overhearing her, a man at her side said glumly, ‘Staying away, that’s what. Frightened of catching the typhoid, they are. It was the same a few weeks back at the races.’ He nodded towards the horses. ‘There’s just not the people about. Neither traders nor buyers. I reckon the sheep fair’ll be the same.’
    ‘What about the pleasure fair? Will it still come?’ Polly asked.
    The man shrugged. ‘I dunno. It clashes with Easter this year and several of the fairground folk have regular places for Easter.’ He sniffed. ‘Still, it probably dun’t mek any diff’rence. They might not come anyway.’
    But on the Wednesday after Easter Eddie came home to say that the roundabouts and shows were arriving on Monks Road. Polly had no pennies for rides and toffee apples this year. Stevie was an amiable little boy and never whined for what he couldn’t have. Somehow, young as he was, he seemed to understand their plight. Not so Violet. She tossed her curls and wheedled a penny out of her father when he came home with his wage packet at the end of each week.
    On the Thursday morning Eddie and Violet disappeared soon after breakfast. Polly sighed. Instead of being able to run to the