Читать книгу Sins of the Father - Kitty Neale - Страница 16

Tom scowled as Horace Bell left the pub. Bloody skinflint! He had been tempted to tell the uppity sod that he could forget marrying Emma, but common sense prevailed. He needed someone to take the kids on–the sods were driving him bloody mad–and if things went well with Polly, he might be able to tempt her with a rent-free flat. She might balk at the idea of taking on five kids, but Dick would be one less, old enough now to find a place of his own. Mind you, he’d miss the lad’s money, but once Emma was married to Horace Bell, she was sure to tip him a few bob.

He licked his lips as he pictured Polly. Unlike Myra, who had been a smasher when he married her, Polly’s face wasn’t much to look at, but her figure was enough to tempt any man. She wasn’t very tall, but nicely rounded, and as time was called in the pub, he decided to pop round to see her.

She lived in the next street, and another plus was that she didn’t have any nippers of her own. As he knocked on the door, Tom was a little nervous. It had been a long time since he’d done this courting lark, and though Polly always stopped to have a word when she saw him, her smile warm and holding a coy invitation, he hadn’t asked her out yet.

Her eyes rounded when she saw him on the step, but she soon regained her equilibrium.

‘Tom, what a nice surprise! What can I do for you, love?’

‘Er…I was wondering if I could have a word.’

‘Of course you can.’

‘Can I come in?’

Polly frowned and leaned forward, her eyes flicking up and down the street. ‘Yeah, all right.’

Tom following the woman along a long narrow passage and into a small back kitchen. He glanced around. It wasn’t much, but spotless, and that was another point in Polly’s favour. ‘Do you fancy a drink, Tom?’

‘I wouldn’t say no.’

‘I’ve only got a bottle of gin but you’re welcome to a snifter. Take a seat, love.’

Tom watched as Polly found two cups. Having opened the bottle she poured them each a good measure, her smile rueful.

‘I hate Sundays, Tom. It’s a family day and rotten on your own. I ain’t much of a drinker, but on Sundays this is my special treat and it gets me through. Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?’

Tom took a swig of gin and grimaced. He wasn’t fond of the stuff, but it gave him a bit of Dutch courage. ‘Well, girl, I was wondering if I could take you out one night.’

‘Me! You want to take me out?’

Tom chuckled at the expression on her face. ‘Well, there ain’t anyone else here and I wasn’t talking to the wall.’

She didn’t respond, only taking another sip of gin, but then their eyes met and she smiled. ‘Blimey, this has come as a bit of a shock.’

‘Leave it out, Polly. You must have twigged that I fancy you.’

‘No, not really. I know we’ve had a chat now and then, but I thought with you losing your wife less than a year ago…well—’

Tom broke in, ‘I’m just asking you out for a drink, that’s all. There’d be no strings attached, and as for Myra, I know she wouldn’t want me to sit at home moping.’

‘No, of course she wouldn’t. Your wife was a lovely woman. It’s awful that she died so young.’ Polly paused for a moment, then said, ‘All right, Tom, you’re on.’

‘Smashing. How about tonight? We could walk over to Chelsea and have a drink in a pub by the river.’

Polly shook her head. ‘If it’s all the same to you, Tom, I’d rather stick to our local. Some pubs still frown on women and I’d feel a bit uncomfortable. The landlord in the King’s Arms doesn’t turn a hair as long as I use the saloon bar.’

‘Leave it out, love. Times are changing. Still, if you’d feel more comfortable in our local, it suits me. How about I pick you up at eight?’

‘Yes, that’s fine. Now would you like another drink?’

‘Yeah, why not? I’ve nothing to rush home for.’

‘Oh, well, how about staying for a bite to eat then?’

‘I’d like that,’ Tom said, relaxed now and leaning back in his chair.

He watched as she began to bustle around, a small smile on his face. Polly was a bit of all right, no oil painting, but a man could drown in those tits. Christ, he needed a woman and he wondered how long it would be before he could get her into bed…

Polly too was thinking hard as she prepared a cold meal. Christ, fancy Tom Chambers asking her out! They had both grown up in this area, and she’d seen him turn from a gawky schoolboy into a smashing-looking bloke. He’d had his pick of the girls, and it had been no surprise when he had chosen Myra. She had been a beauty, tall and leggy with natural blonde hair, but Polly had to admit that she’d gone down over the years. Mind you, with having that brood of kids it wasn’t surprising.

She glanced surreptitiously at Tom, still unable to believe that he was sitting at her table. She had always fancied him, but he’d hardly looked her way until now. Polly sighed heavily. She craved men’s arms around her, liking a bit of slap and tickle, but lately was growing fearful of her reputation. Gossip was spreading, keeping her indoors more than usual, and if anyone else had asked her out at the moment, she’d have said no.

As Polly turned to carry the plates to the table, their eyes met and Tom winked, his smile warm. Her hands shook. God, he was gorgeous.

‘It’s only a bit of Spam, tomatoes, bread and pickle.’

‘That’ll do me, love.’

They sat facing each other. With her throat constricted with nerves, Polly was hardly able to swallow her food, but what did it matter? It wasn’t food she wanted, it was Tom Chambers. She wanted to drown in his arms, to feel his lips on hers, and then the thought of what might follow had her fidgeting with desire in her chair. Christ, she didn’t want to ruin her chances, didn’t want Tom to think her brazen. She would have to go carefully.

‘You’re only picking at your food, Polly. Are you feeling all right?’

‘Yes, I’m fine. I’m not very hungry, that’s all.’

As their eyes locked it was as if some sort of unspoken signal passed between them.

Tom stood up, holding out his hand. He said, ‘Shall we go upstairs?’

Despite her desires, Polly hesitated. As much as she wanted Tom, if she slept with him now he’d think her a tart and that was the last thing she wanted. There were those around here who already thought it was true, and if gossip reached his ears he’d believe it.

‘Tom, we can’t.’

‘Of course we can. I can see by the look in your eyes that your need is as great as mine.’

‘It…it wouldn’t be right. Anyway, I…I’m not that sort of woman.’

‘Of course you’re not, but what harm would it do? We’re both free, both lonely, and I wouldn’t think any less of you. Mind you, there’s only one thing.’

‘Oh, and what’s that?’