One Night Only (182 page)

“
Y
o
u
mus
t
b
e
Polly?
”
sai
d
T
revor
’
s
mothe
r
.
“Gina talk
s a
lo
t
abou
t
you
.
Y
ou’v
e
bee
n a
grea
t
support
.
Thi
s
is
jus
t
s
o
har
d
t
o
tak
e
in.
”

Sh
e
wa
s
shakin
g
to
o
bu
t
Poll
y
ha
d
a
feelin
g
that
,
unlike he
r
son
,
Mr
s
Humphrie
s
wa
s
shakin
g
wit
h
fea
r
fo
r
her daughte
r
-in-la
w
an
d
grandson
.

“Hav
e
yo
u
see
n
he
r
o
r
Danny?
”
sh
e
asked
.

“No
,
I
didn
’
t
se
e
Dann
y
–
h
e
wa
s
aslee
p
–
the
y
sai
d
he
’
s
oka
y
bu
t
fo
r
th
e
broke
n
leg
,
thoug
h
h
e
doesn
’
t
see
m
to remembe
r
much
.
Bu
t
I
sa
w
Gin
a
.
.
.
Gin
a
i
s
.
.
.
”
Polly
’
s
voic
e
brok
e
whe
n
sh
e
sai
d
Gina
’
s
name
.

“
T
ak
e
you
r
time
,
love,
”
sai
d
Mr
s
Humphries
.
“Thi
s
is
a
terribl
e
shoc
k
t
o
al
l
o
f
us.
”

“She
’
s
stil
l
unconscious,
”
sai
d
Poll
y
.
“The
y
wouldn
’
t go
into
any
detail
with
me
–
they
want
to
talk
to
T
r
evo
r
.
”

T
revo
r
le
t
ou
t
a
monstrou
s
sig
h
an
d
hi
s
mother supporte
d
hi
m
a
s
hi
s
shoulder
s
heave
d
i
n
sorro
w
.

“
T
ak
e
m
e
t
o
se
e
he
r
,
please,
”
h
e
said
.
“
I
wan
t
t
o
se
e
my
wif
e
an
d
son.
”

Rut
h
fel
t
lik
e
a
prope
r
stalke
r
.
Sh
e
wa
s
i
n
he
r
ca
r
on Scotstow
n
Par
k
i
n
Belfast
,
th
e
radi
o
turne
d
dow
n
lo
w
,
sunglasse
s
on
,
viso
r
down
,
an
d
wa
s
watchin
g
th
e
comings
an
d
going
s
o
f
a
neighbourhoo
d
tha
t
wa
s
unfamilia
r
and
ful
l
o
f
ba
d
memories
.

He
r
mother
’
s
hous
e
wa
s
stil
l
exactl
y
th
e
sam
e
–
a
little bungalo
w
i
n
th
e
north-wes
t
o
f
Belfas
t
wher
e
retired couple
s
live
d
i
n
neighbourl
y
bliss
.
Th
e
re
d
doo
r
wit
h
the hug
e
gree
n
pot
s
a
t
eithe
r
sid
e
wa
s
a
s
shin
y
an
d
perfec
t
as i
t
ha
d
alway
s
been
.
Th
e
whit
e
ne
t
curtain
s
wer
e
still
gleamin
g
an
d
th
e
summe
r
sea
t
tha
t
use
d
t
o
b
e
a
t
thei
r
old hous
e
wher
e
the
y
live
d
wit
h
thei
r
da
d
sa
t
underneat
h
the fron
t
windo
w
.

Rut
h
though
t
o
f
he
r
da
d
an
d
ho
w
h
e
ha
d
mad
e
that
summe
r
sea
t
wit
h
hi
s
ow
n
hands
.
H
e
wa
s
a
fin
e
tradesman
an
d
h
e
ha
d
alway
s
mad
e
sur
e
tha
t
thei
r
youn
g
live
s
were
ful
l
o
f
adventure
s
an
d
memories
.
Rut
h
smile
d
a
s
she
though
t
o
f
hi
m
buildin
g
a
tree-hous
e
i
n
th
e
garden,
makin
g
a
seesa
w
fro
m
ol
d
bit
s
o
f
wood
,
lightin
g
little bonfire
s
a
t
Hallowe’e
n
an
d
the
n
bobbin
g
fo
r
apple
s
a
t
the
kitche
n
tabl
e
whil
e
he
r
mothe
r
hovere
d
roun
d
them
impatientl
y
wit
h a
te
a
towe
l
i
n
cas
e
an
y
o
f
th
e
wate
r
would
spill
.

Bu
t
th
e
summe
r
sea
t
ha
d
alway
s
bee
n
s
o
specia
l
t
o
he
r
.
Sh
e
woul
d
si
t
b
y
hi
s
sid
e
an
d
liste
n
t
o
storie
s
o
f
day
s
gone b
y
whe
n
h
e
wa
s
a
youn
g
bo
y
growin
g
u
p
i
n
th
e
villag
e
of Cranmore
.
H
e
le
t
he
r
carv
e
he
r
nam
e
o
n
th
e
sea
t
an
d
he carve
d
hi
s
nam
e
o
n
th
e
othe
r
side
.
I
t
wa
s
lik
e
thei
r
secret
chattin
g
plac
e
a
t
th
e
botto
m
o
f
th
e
garden
.
I
t
wa
s
a
tranqui
l
plac
e
Rut
h
woul
d
escap
e
t
o
whe
n
sh
e
wa
s
feeling
sa
d
o
r
lonel
y
.
I
t
wa
s
th
e
onl
y
plac
e
wher
e
sh
e
woul
d
feel
lik
e
sh
e
belonge
d
sometimes
.
Sh
e
love
d
tha
t
summe
r
seat an
d
th
e
memorie
s
i
t
hel
d
an
d
no
w
i
t
sa
t
outsid
e
a
house wher
e
sh
e
wa
s
no
t
welcome
.
Sh
e
stare
d
a
t
i
t
an
d
hear
d
her father
’
s
gentle
,
sorrowfu
l
voic
e
i
n
he
r
head
.