Pretty Lady Read Online Free Page A

the canteen helper stared at her anxiously.
    â€˜Just a bit tired, that’s all.’ Polly tried to smile.
    â€˜Glory be to God! – that’s never all you’re eating? It wouldn’t keep a bird alive.’
    â€˜It’s as much as I want right now.’ Polly bit down on her irritation. The woman meant well, there was no point in taking it out on her. ‘I’ll be having a big tea when I get home tonight.’
    â€˜Well ...’ Reluctantly, the woman tilted the teapot and let the dark liquid pour into the waiting cup. ‘If you’re sure ...’
    â€˜I had a big breakfast, too,’ Polly lied reassuringly. ‘I’ll survive.’ For a little while longer.
    â€˜I don’t like your colour – and that’s a fact. You’re pale as death.’
    â€˜I’m all right.’ Polly reached out and firmly took the cup of tea from her hand. With conscious effort, she straightened and carried her tray to an unoccupied table in the far corner of the canteen, walking briskly.
    Once there, she sank into the chair limply, closing her eyes. The spurts of effort cost more every time.
    â€˜You look like death-warmed-over.’ The sharp voice cut at her. ‘Are those pills doing you any good at all?’
    â€˜I’m all right.’ She picked up her cup with both hands, steadying it against Vera’s sharp, prying eyes. This was the second person within a few minutes to speak of death – was it written so prominently on her features already?
    â€˜Those pills,’ Vera kept probing. ‘Are you taking them the way you ought?’
    â€˜I have been.’ She didn’t look up. ‘I’ve only just run out. I’ll be going to the doctor’s tonight and getting some more. Then I’ll be fine.’
    â€˜You ought to ask him for something stronger. I don’t believe those are helping at all. Make him give you something different. If you want my opinion –’
    No one ever wanted Vera’s opinion, but she gave it anyway. She was a good soul, basically.
    â€˜I think you ought to see Mr Brady.’
    Mr Brady was a surgeon. Polly stiffened and saw the small sharp eyes sparkling as Vera realized she’d struck home.
    â€˜You’ve got to look after yourself, you know.’
    Polly recognized her mood. Vera was determined to say her say. You could not tell Vera to mind her own business. She considered this her business. Vera had not only got her the job at the hospital, but she was Brian’s eldest sister – the only one in this country.
    Vera’s interference was sanctioned by ties of family and friendship. Sometimes she pushed them too far. This was going to be one of those times.
    â€˜You’ve got to think of the children, you know.’
    As though I thought of anything else. ‘I do,’ she said. Anyone else would have been warned off by her tone. But not Vera.
    â€˜How is poor Denny?’ It was why she had come over, the subject she was determined to re-open and pursue. ‘Is he any better?’
    â€˜He isn’t any worse.’ That was what Vera really wanted to know. Vera had never been able to reconcile herself to Denny’s condition, had never brought herself to accept the fact that there would never be any change in it. There would be no great dramatic recovery in which Denny suddenly would achieve a forward stride to bring him into step with his generation. Nor would there be any rapid degeneration leading to debilitation and death. Denny was Denny –and always would be. He was perfectly happy in his own way, he was strong and healthy. He was just ... wanting.
    â€˜Have you heard any more about that Mary-Maureen? How she is? Sure –’ Vera sighed deeply – ‘that was a terrible thing. It was only God’s own mercy the child didn’t die.’
    That was Vera’s idea of being oblique, of subtly pointing out the dangers in allowing the