Free Poppy Day by Annie Murray Page B

all day, rushing out, even though Polly didn’t know, wouldn’t understand. ‘She’s aged a bit of course, but it was ’er awright. Oh Poll, I thought my ’eart was going to stop she gave me such a shock. She’s after me again, coming to find me . . .’
    ‘Mom, stop it!’ Polly shouted. She grabbed Olive by the shoulders, starting to shake her. ‘I don’t know what yer going on about. What woman? Why’s anyone going to be after yer? Yer ain’t done nothing, ’ave yer?’
    Olive’s face was crumpling like that of a terrified child.
    ‘Don’t!’ Polly cried harshly. She released her mother, frightened by the look in her eyes. ‘This’s got to stop, Mom. I can’t stand any more of it. Yer making a nervous wreck of me an’ all. Yer not making any sense.’
    ‘I’m sorry, Poll—’ Olive started crying, sobs breaking out from her throat. ‘I just can’t go on living round ’ere if she knows we’re ’ere. She’s wicked – evil . . .’
    Polly was close to tears herself. ‘Mom, I don’t know what all this is about. I’m worried about yer – yer don’t seem yerself at all lately. Please don’t talk like this. You’re frightening the life out of me. There’s no one after yer, is there? Why would there be?’
    As she spoke, Ronny came bumping down on his bottom from upstairs, took one look at his mom and started wailing in alarm.
    ‘Come up ’ere, bab.’ With a huge effort Olive rallied herself, sat Ronny on a chair and wiped her eyes and nose on her apron. ‘Don’t cry, son. I was just telling Poll ’ere that we’re going to move to a bigger ’ouse soon. Yer’d like that, eh?’
    Polly was protesting that they didn’t need to move anywhere when the door opened, setting the coats on the back of it swinging. The two of them froze. Jess walked in, preoccupied until she saw her aunt’s tearful face.
    ‘What’s going on?’ she spoke cautiously.
    Polly and Olive looked at one another. Olive stood up. ‘Nothing for you to worry about.’
    Jess felt about as welcome as a fox in a chicken run. She couldn’t get another word out of them, so she asked Polly later, upstairs.
    ‘She’s been acting real funny lately.’ Polly sat on her bed, twisting the sleeve of her cardigan round and round. ‘I’m bothered about ’er, Jess. The last couple of months – not going out, and now she’s on about seeing some woman who’s scared ’er half to death and she wants to move ’ouse. She won’t say why. I’m worried she’s going a bit, well, you know . . .’
    Jess sat beside her in the half-light. ‘She seems awright in ’erself – you know, not sick or anything. But you’re right – she does seem to be acting funny. I saw ’er the other morning looking out the window – up and down the road, worried like, as if she thought someone was coming. Who does she say this woman is?’
    ‘She don’t—’ Polly looked round at her, wide-eyed. ‘I’ve never heard ’er talk about this woman before. And the worst of it is, Jess – I’m not at all sure there is any woman!’

Nine
‘Oh sod it!’
    Jess caught the hem of her dress on her heel as she stood up from bending to wipe Ronny’s face. She heard the waistline rip.
    ‘Well it’ll have to stay like that – I ain’t got time to mend it now.’ More sewing, she thought grumpily. On top of all the mending she was doing for the family.
    No one took any notice. They were all rushing to get to work. Jess was in a bad mood because yesterday Mr Mather had announced Mrs Mather would be taking over again in the Coffee House and that she was no longer needed. Having seen Mrs Mather, a terribly thin, sallow woman, with a robust infant who looked as if he’d sucked the very life out of her, Jess had thought she’d be there for some time to come. But no. She’d have to look for a new job.
    ‘Yer’ve been a good worker,’ Mr Mather said. ‘If yer do want any of them references anywhere like . . . only yer’ll ’ave to write ’em.