Polly and the End of Day.

Polly began to undress ready for bed; the attic room was cold; she hurried out of her maid’s uniform and into her nightgown. She heard Susie sniffing from the bed; sniff sniff, sniff sniff. Bloody cold. All I need all night is her sniffing and coughing. Folded the uniform over a chair; looked at the black woollen stockings with the tiny hole. Must sew that or I’ll have old Gripe on at me. She put the stockings on the chair. Her fingers felt cold already. She glanced over at Susie lying in bed; her head on the pillow, her skinny body snuggled down beneath the sheet and blankets and the thick bedcover that Miss Anne had given them when she came last. Good she is the Elmore’s daughter. Not penny-pinching like her parents. More sniffs from Susie.1

“I hope you’re not going to lie there sniffing all night,” Polly said.2

Susie said nothing, but sniffed again; pulled the blankets tighter around her.3

“I’m sorry I smacked your face,” Polly said, “but when Dudman said you told tales on me I got angry.” She stood and stared at Susie snuggled down like a mole.4

Susie poked her head out of the blankets and gazed at Polly. “You didn’t have to hit me,” Susie said. “He said that if I didn’t tell the truth, I’d be thrown out with no references, and I was always told by dad to tell the truth, and if I didn’t I was given a beating, and so I always tell the truth, but I didn’t mean to tell tales, but it was true and well I was frightened.” Susie paused, her thin face, pale as the moon, pleaded forgiveness.5

Polly pouted, sighed, shrugged her shoulders, went to the window, and looked out at the roofs of the houses in their part of London. It was dark, but street lamps lit up the ghostly sight.6

“Mr Dudman stared at me with those eyes of his; you know how they frighten me; how he can make my life hell if he wants to and he seemed to know about you and Master George; and the way he said it, I thought it was already known by him, and I didn’t mean to let it come out, but he asked me where you went at night when Master George was here, and I said I didn’t know, but he said, I did, and I didn’t want to tell lies because of my dad, and the beatings and so…” Susie stopped; she saw Polly stare at her and put a finger to her lips to indicate for her to shut up.7

Polly sighed. I’d given her a bloody beating if I’d caught her after seeing Dudman, she mused, walking from the window, pulling a shawl around her shoulders, standing by the bed. She gazed at the pale features; the teeth biting the lips; the staring eyes; the thin fingers clutching at the blankets. She pulled out the chamber pot from under the bed and urinated. The chamber pot sounded a tune. The air whiffed of urine. Susie sniffed. Polly pushed the chamber pot back under the bed, climbed into the bed beside Susie, and pulled up the sheet and blankets to her chin. The bed was cold. Her feet searched for a place of warmth. Touched Susie’s feet, slightly warm. Better. Rubbed her feet against Susie’s. 8

“Your feet are cold,” Susie moaned,” and it’s taken me quarter of an hour to get this warm; now you’re here; God it’s cold, now; I’ll have to get all warm again.” She searched out Polly’s body with her thin fingers; clutched her waist.9

“If I’d got you earlier, I’d have bloodied your skinny nose, and pulled your hair out,” Polly said, feeling Susie’s fingers clutch at her and pull her closer against cold.10

“You smacked my face,” Susie moaned, pulling Polly closer, smelling the mixture of body odour and soap, the feel of cotton and body.11

“I’d have murdered you earlier when Dudman told me what you said,” Polly said, sensing Susie close, her thin fingers searching out her body.12

“ Didn’t mean to, “ Susie whispered, “ I wasn’t thinking what I was saying; I was frightened of being thrown out, and where I would go in the dark of London, as I don’t know anyone, and he seemed to know, Polly, he seemed to, and when I was told to tell the truth, I thought of my dad…” 13

Polly put a hand over Susie’s mouth. “Hush. You’ve told me. I know what he’s like.” 14

Susie nodded her head. She sniffed. Smelt Polly’s hand; sensed the fingers against her lips. She wanted to hold Polly; wanted to have her close to her.15

She pushed Polly‘s hand away from her mouth. “I thought he was going to tell Lady Elmore or his Lordship, and that they’d be angry with me, and then you’d be out in the street and me, too, Polly, me, too,” Susie said anxiously, in case Polly should kick her out of bed onto the wooden floor.16

Polly sighed. Felt Susie’s hands holding on for dear life onto her nightgown. “Don’t ever tell Dudman about me again, do you hear?” Polly said in a harsh whispered voice. “I don’t care what he threatens you with, because next time I’ll beat you black and blue, and probably strangle you, you skinny mare,” Polly added. She felt Susie’s lips kiss her cheek. Sensed the fingers holding her nightgown tighter. “I’ll forget about it this time, but remember what I said.”17

Susie nodded; smiled weakly. “You’re going to miss Master George tonight,” Susie whispered. 18

Polly nodded and sighed. Thought about George’s empty bed; thought about she and he last time together; thought about the lovemaking, the breathing, the warmth, and the glow of it all.19

“What’s it like?” Susie whispered.20

“What’s what like?”21

“What you do in bed with Master George?”22

Polly sighed. Scratched her behind. “Better than lying here with you,” Polly said.23

“What do you do?” Susie enquired, feeling Polly’s hand on her hip.24

“You’ll find out one day, if you’re lucky.” Polly closed her eyes; thought about George out in France with his regiment and the deaths daily in the war.25

“Danny the footman told me some things but they were dirty things and made me blush and he kept on about what people did and I didn’t like it and he said what men did to women and…” Susie stopped. Polly was crying. She thought she was at least. It sounded like her crying. “What’s up Polly?”26

Polly had suddenly become overwhelmed with feelings, thoughts, and images of George and memories flooding her mind and Susie going on about things. The silly mare. She couldn’t help the tears now; couldn’t hold back; sensed Susie’s hand and her words meaning well, felt Susie’s kisses and caresses, wished they were George’s; wished he was there with her; wished he was making love to her as they did last time; wanted him to hold and enter her. She sniffed; sighed. Wiped her eyes on her nightgown. Her eyes felt full; her throat choked up. She sensed Susie hugged her tight; sensed the kisses; wished it was George; wished it was he; wished it was he, wished it was, but knew it wasn’t he who kissed and hugged her now, but it was comforting, it was all there was now, nothing more, nothing less, and somewhere far off, a church bell rang, and echoed across the night sky of London, and into the cold attic where they lay huddled against the cold, and buried beneath the blankets like two moles beneath ground, warm and close. 27