Fire And Hemlock Part 11

She was given the part of Pierrot, poor Pierrot, mournfully in love with Columbine, who, of course, was thoroughly in love with Harlequin. It did not seem to Polly to be quite Nina's thing. But when rehearsals first started, Nina harked back to her glorious career as King Herod in Juniors and decided she would be a great actress, after all. "Mr. Herring's ideas are magic!" she told everyone, Polly included, and so enthusiastic was she that Polly was persuaded to join the Drama Society too. She joined, and was made one of the chorus of clowns.

It soon became apparent to Polly, as she obediently did handstands and rolls with the other clowns, that Nina's ideas and Mr. Herring's were about as different as ideas could be. Nina wanted to rant and wave her arms about. Mr. Herring explained that he was wanting to put on a version of the old Italian pantomime in what he called "stylized semi-dance form." It was not easy to stylize Nina. If she had to be mournfully in love, she thought at least she should sing.

"No," said Mr. Herring. "The whole idea is to have dumb show to music. Think of it as a sort of ballet."

But Nina said she was sick of semi-dance. She made up a song-which owed quite a lot to Doors-which she intended to sing during the performance when it was too late for Mr. Herring to stop her. n.o.body thought she would dare. "Yes, I will!" Nina said. "This is it. Listen." She balanced a chair on a desk before Geography on Tuesday morning and stood on both and sang. The chair slipped and Nina went cras.h.i.+ng down into the project on South America. She broke the project. She also broke her gla.s.ses and sprained her ankle.

Mr. Herring seized the opportunity to get rid of Nina. "The show must go on!" he said gleefully, and he made Polly Pierrot instead.

When Nina came back to school in her spare gla.s.ses, with her ankle strapped up, she took it quite calmly. "I've gone off acting," she said. "I'm heavily into guitar-playing instead." But, because of what her parents would say, she consented to join the chorus ofclowns, where she annoyed Mr. Herring considerably by calling advice to Polly all the time.

Polly enjoyed being Pierrot. It was quite easy to pretend to be crossed in love, because Columbine was a very pretty Third Year girl called Kirstie Jefferson. Polly and Nina much admired Kirstie. On the other hand, neither of them liked the red-haired girl called Fiona Perks, who was Pierrette. Polly did not find it at all easy to pretend to love Fiona at the end. But that was the only difficulty. As rehearsals went on, Mr. Herring discovered that Polly could do flip-flops and cartwheels, and he made her do them, slowly and sadly. The part of Pierrot became strange and circus-like. Polly found she had become as enthusiastic about the pantomime as Nina had been, and she wanted to make sure Mum and David came to see it at the end of term.

"You will will come and see it, won't you?" she said rather often. come and see it, won't you?" she said rather often.

Ivy said neither yes or no. She was in a bad mood. She and David did not seem to Polly to be getting on very well.

"You'll have to tell me soon," Polly said two weeks before the performance. "We'll be getting the tickets tomorrow."

"Will you shut up about that!" Ivy exploded. "I've told you before what I feel about your school shows. Solid boredom!"

"But this is different, Mum," Polly persuaded. "It's not a Nativity. It's supposed to be what pantos used to be before they started being d.i.c.k Whittington and things. It's more of a dance. My part's a sort of mourning acrobat."

"Oh it's arty, is it?" Ivy said disagreeably. "Then definitely no. I did my bit when you were in Juniors, and that's it it as far as I'm concerned." as far as I'm concerned."

"Come on, Ivy. Where's the old esprit de corps?" David intervened. "It won't hurt to go."

"You keep out of this," said Ivy.

"I'd like to see Polly Gorgeous do her stuff," David said unwisely. "I bet she's terrific!"

Ivy rounded on him. "Gorgeous, is she? I've watched you, David.You've been making up to Polly on the sly for months now. You're always trying to get her on your side. Just leave off, will you!"

David began to be seriously alarmed. He gave Polly a look which warned her not to say anything about the notes to Mr. O'Keefe, and protested, "But that's nothing but good old togetherness, Ivy! I don't want Polly to hate me!"

"Hate you! She'd walk through fire for you these days, and you know it!" Ivy said. "Wouldn't you, Polly?"

"Oh, I wouldn't put it quite so high as that," David said. "Would you, Polly?"

Polly stood there, with Ivy looking at her angrily and David pleadingly, and did not know what to answer. If she said she hated David, Ivy would be angry. If she agreed with Ivy, David would be in trouble. "He's all right," she said. "But what about the pantomime, Mum?"

"Don't change the subject," said Ivy. "Hear that, David? 'All right,' she said. When Polly says a thing like that, she means it. I know Polly. You've got her eating out of your hand, and I'm not having it!"

Polly was annoyed at having her careful answer made to mean the wrong thing. "That's not not what I meant!" she said. "You don't know what goes on in my mind. n.o.body does." what I meant!" she said. "You don't know what goes on in my mind. n.o.body does."

"Yes I do," said Ivy.

"Better scarper, Poll," David said warningly.

"That's it! Advise my daughter what to do!" Ivy said.

Polly took David's advice and went upstairs to do her homework, where she sat against the glopping cistern instead and read The Castle of Adventure The Castle of Adventure. It made a relief from the rather difficult books Mr. Lynn kept sending, and it almost distracted her from the sound of Ivy's voice downstairs. Eventually Ivy's voice stopped. Then Ivy came in and sat on Polly's bed.

"Sorry about that, Polly," she said. "Still, it's cleared the air and we know where we stand. Happiness depends on being honest. David's been quite honest with me now, and we've settled to goaway for a bit together, to get to know one another again. I've rung Granny, and she says she'll have you till we get back. Would you mind terribly? We'll be back before Christmas-promise."

That meant they were not coming to the pantomime. Polly moved her shoulders against the cistern cupboard and sighed. "That'll be fine, Mum," she said n.o.bly. "Have a good time."

"I knew you'd say that," Ivy said, which made Polly feel rather low. She would have liked Ivy to notice how n.o.ble she was being.

Still, it was good to go and live in Granny's biscuit-smelling house again, and to lie in Granny's spare bed staring up at her Fire and Hemlock Fire and Hemlock picture. She was sure now that the picture was valuable. She was guiltily convinced it must be, since the other pictures she had chosen for Mr. Lynn had one and all turned out to be worth such a lot. She was still astonished that the Perry Leroys had not come and asked to have this one back too. picture. She was sure now that the picture was valuable. She was guiltily convinced it must be, since the other pictures she had chosen for Mr. Lynn had one and all turned out to be worth such a lot. She was still astonished that the Perry Leroys had not come and asked to have this one back too.

At school, rehearsals became frantic, and Drama Society members were allowed to miss English in order to rehea.r.s.e. Nina's Mum was helping with the costumes. She came to school almost as often as Nina in order to sew clown suits. Everyone in the pantomime and the other two plays was given a book of five tickets to sell to their relatives. Granny bought one of Polly's.

"Of course I'll come," she said. "I wouldn't miss it for worlds. I wish I could sell the rest for you, but all my friends are such old ladies you'd never get them to stir." Granny's main friends were Mrs. Gold and Mrs. Ormond, and they were indeed old. Granny always said, "I call one Aches and the other Pains. The rest of the people I know are just Grumbles and Moans."

Polly, left with four useless tickets, was struck with a very daring idea. She had been longing to write to Mr. Lynn. She wanted to tell him about the pantomime, and also of a new idea she had about the Obah Cypt. And here was a way of doing it without Seb getting to know.

She went to school with her tickets and a clean new envelope with a stamp on. At the end of the morning she went to where Nina was sitting on the teacher's desk waving a book of tickets and bawling, "Two more tickets for Sat.u.r.day! Two more tickets only forthe greatest show on earth!"

"I'll swop you those two tickets for my four," Polly said. "If you'll do me a favor."

"Done!" Nina said. She loved selling tickets. "What's the favor?" "Write something on them and address the envelope for me," saidPolly.

"O.K.," said Nina. She lay full length along the teacher's desk and poised her pen expectantly over the tickets. "What do you want written?"

It felt a bit silly now Polly came to it. Polly went pink as she dictated, "I am in this. Call me Pierrot. The O.C. is an egg-shaped locket with T.C.'s hair in it."

"Wow!" said Nina. "Mysteries! Is that all?"

"Yes. Now address the envelope," Polly said, and dictated Mr. Lynn's address.

"Hey!" exclaimed Nina. "Isn't that the strange man your Granny-?"

"Maybe," said Polly, and firmly removed the envelope. She put the tickets in it and stuck it down. Leaving Nina waving her book of four tickets and bawling, "Four tickets for Friday now! Four whole tickets! Bargain of the century!" Polly took the addressed envelope away to the school hall. She peeped in and found, as she had hoped, Nina's Mum was in there with four other Mums, sewing diamonds of color onto Harlequin's suit.

Polly went up to Nina's Mum. "Mrs. Carrington, do you think you could post this letter for me?" She was not going to trust Nina with anything so vital. Nina's Mum was a good deal more reliable.

"Yes of course, dear," said Mrs. Carrington, and put the letter in her rush basket, with one corner sticking out so that she would remember it. Polly thanked her gratefully, and even went on being grateful when Mrs. Carrington turned to the other Mums while Polly was going away, and said in a loud whisper, "Poor kiddy! Broken home, you know. I always try to help her." But Polly had long known where Nina got her tendency to gossip from, and it did not bother her much. Her main feeling was triumph at the cunningway nothing of that letter now had anything to do with her.

The costumes were finished and tried on. Polly had to practice in hers because the sleeves were so long and drooping-after which Nina's Mum had to take the costume away and wash it before the Friday performance. It was white, with enormous black bobbles down the front. When she was dressed in it for the show on the Friday, with her hair pushed away inside a black cap kept firmly in place with sixteen hairgrips, Polly spent some time in front of the mirror in the back room, admiring herself. The Art mistress had given her a white face with purple lips and had spent a long time carefully painting an enormous black teardrop just under Polly's right eye. In the mirror Polly was rodlike and droopy at once. She could have been a bleached version of the smaller, disconsolate clown in Mr. Lynn's stolen Pica.s.so.

She was swept away from the mirror by the two other sets of actors. The show was in three separate bits so that everyone in the Drama Society could do something. The Sixth Form were doing a one-act play about a delinquent boy in prison. The Fourth and Fifth Years were doing extracts from The Importance of Being Earnest The Importance of Being Earnest, and the pantomime came last. There had been arguments about how late this made it for the Second and Third Years, but Mr. Herring had insisted. He said it was traditional. But it was perhaps unfortunate that none of the three groups, or the orchestra, had really rehea.r.s.ed together before that night.

Polly went to part the curtains just a tiny crack, to make sure Granny was in the audience. She was. In the middle, near the front, looking small but royal in her old fur coat. The mutter of talk from all the parents out there made Polly's stomach squiggle.

The orchestra played the overture they had not rehea.r.s.ed quite enough. A number of people behind the scenes said it was a pity someone had chosen such modern music. Somebody else pointed out that it was, in fact, tunes from Oklahoma! Oklahoma! The curtains were drawn. And everything proceeded to go wrong. In the first play the delinquent boy turned out not to have bothered to learn his lines. He made them up as he went along, with such freedom and eloquence that the people acting with him just did not know what to do and simply went to pieces. Everyone would have been glad ofthe interval, except that no sooner were the curtains drawn than the lights failed and left the audience in darkness. In the dark, Mr. Herring tried to make a speech explaining this, but the delinquent boy had so unnerved him that he said, "We'll have you in darkness again any minute now." The audience clapped him for that. The curtains were drawn. And everything proceeded to go wrong. In the first play the delinquent boy turned out not to have bothered to learn his lines. He made them up as he went along, with such freedom and eloquence that the people acting with him just did not know what to do and simply went to pieces. Everyone would have been glad ofthe interval, except that no sooner were the curtains drawn than the lights failed and left the audience in darkness. In the dark, Mr. Herring tried to make a speech explaining this, but the delinquent boy had so unnerved him that he said, "We'll have you in darkness again any minute now." The audience clapped him for that.

The lights came on again for The Importance of Being Earnest The Importance of Being Earnest, but disaster is a very catching thing. The two boys playing Algy and Ernest forgot their lines. They were supposed to be strolling round a table eating cuc.u.mber sandwiches as they talked. When their minds went blank, all they could think of to do was to go on walking round and round the table, eating sandwiches. n.o.body realized that anything was wrong. " Help Help!" Algy said hoa.r.s.ely at last over his shoulder. The stage manager promptly put all the lights out. He said afterward it was the most helpful thing he could think of, but it caused utter confusion, because the prompter could not see to tell Ernest and Algy what to say.

The pantomime players went on, thoroughly undermined but determined to do better. Harlequin and Columbine met among the clowns. Harlequin, as he fell in love, trod on Columbine's dress, which at once came in two pieces with a mighty ripping sound. Kirstie Jefferson, luckily, was wearing tights underneath and she managed to carry on as if this was meant to happen. Nina was so impressed by Kirstie's coolness that she stood staring at her admiringly and forgot to go off the stage with the rest of the clowns. She was forced to loiter miserably at the back of the stage, getting in everyone's way, until she noticed Mr. Herring fiercely beckoning from the wings. Whereupon she sprinted for the wings and cannoned heavily into Polly as Polly came on. Polly reeled onto the stage like a drunk and was further put off by hearing an extraordinary noise from the orchestra, where the girl playing her melancholy tune on a violin had made a terrible mistake. It was so unlike the taped tune Polly had practiced to that she fell over doing her first cartwheel. She tried to get up, but her foot was on one of her trailing sleeves and she fell flat on her back. The audience thought this was meant to happen and laughed heartily. This drowned the noise of the violinist bursting into tears.

"Never mind," whispered Fiona Perks as Polly lay miserably ather feet. "Nothing's broken."

Polly gazed up at Fiona's made-up face and thought that this was exactly the irritating sort of thing Fiona Perks would would say. "Nothing! Only my spirit!" she retorted as she struggled to her feet. say. "Nothing! Only my spirit!" she retorted as she struggled to her feet.

"Wasn't it awful awful!" she wailed to Granny afterward.

"So-so," said Granny. "I enjoyed most of it. And it's no more than you'd expect on a Friday."

Granny, Polly thought, was probably the most superst.i.tious person in the world. Even the Superst.i.tion Club at its height had not been a patch on Granny. She tried to smile. "I wish you'd come tomorrow instead. I bet we get it perfect tomorrow."

And of course they did. Everyone was ashamed of Friday. The delinquent boy spent all Sat.u.r.day learning his part. Algy and Ernest came early in order to rehea.r.s.e their sandwich scene. The Science master worked on the lighting for hours, and Mrs. Jefferson put Kirstie's dress back together with tape to make sure it stayed. Even the orchestra tried to pull itself together.

The show went like a house on fire, as Nina kept saying. Nina's parents were there that night, to her great glee. She kept going to the curtains and looking out at them, and getting in the way of all the people waiting in the wings. Polly was rather nervous. She was meanly glad when, just after the first interval, Mr. Herring took Nina by the scruff of her clown suit and threw her into the girls' dressing room.

"I was only looking!" Nina grumbled at Polly. "It's interesting seeing everyone. Your strange man is sitting near the back. Did you know?"

Cold fear hurt Polly's throat for a moment. "Seb? Or Mr. Leroy?" Then she had a feeling that all this had happened before. "You mean my Dad?"

"No, stupid, the one you sent the tickets to," said Nina.

"What!" Polly exclaimed. She shoved Nina aside and sped to the stage. The audience was rows of dim pink blobs, but she saw Mr. Lynn's gla.s.ses glinting near the back. There was no mistaking the angle of them as they sat on his nose. "Good heavens!" she heardherself say. heavens!" she heardherself say.

"What do you expect-if you go and send him tickets?" Nina said behind her.

Polly turned round to tell Nina to keep her mouth shut about that and found Mr. Herring bearing down on them. Both of them fled back to the dressing room, Polly laughing like an idiot. She could not remember ever having been so pleased, or so flattered, or so nervous about anything in her life before. And she was sure she was going to make a worse mess of the pantomime even than Friday.

But when the time came and the orchestra started the clown music, a sort of steely goodness came upon Polly. She suddenly knew she was going to be excellent. She came drooping onto the stage exactly right, and this time the girl playing the melancholy tune on the violin got it exactly right too. Polly turned slowly through Pierrot's first cartwheel, with her legs drooping just as they should, and she had a sudden sense, as she turned, that she was part of a transparent charmed pattern in which everything had to go in the one right way because that was the only way it could could go. She came out of the cartwheel and went on her knees to Kirstie Jefferson, with her drooping sleeves imploringly raised. The violin sang along. And the audience began going "O-oh!" half jeering at Pierrot, but half on his side too. They went on doing it, and that was right as well. The pattern had been there always, even though they were all making it just at that moment. Polly went through her part in it with a sort of wondering, alert stillness inside. It was right. It was even right when Kirstie laughed at her and went off with Harlequin. Polly mourned, and the clowns whirled round her, making another part of the pattern. And the audience cheered so much when Fiona Perks came and offered her pink paper heart to Pierrot that Polly felt a real gush of liking for Fiona. She swapped pink paper hearts with her, both of them laughing lovingly, like people enormously relieved about something. go. She came out of the cartwheel and went on her knees to Kirstie Jefferson, with her drooping sleeves imploringly raised. The violin sang along. And the audience began going "O-oh!" half jeering at Pierrot, but half on his side too. They went on doing it, and that was right as well. The pattern had been there always, even though they were all making it just at that moment. Polly went through her part in it with a sort of wondering, alert stillness inside. It was right. It was even right when Kirstie laughed at her and went off with Harlequin. Polly mourned, and the clowns whirled round her, making another part of the pattern. And the audience cheered so much when Fiona Perks came and offered her pink paper heart to Pierrot that Polly felt a real gush of liking for Fiona. She swapped pink paper hearts with her, both of them laughing lovingly, like people enormously relieved about something.

As soon as the curtains closed on their last bow, Polly burst off the stage and struggled through crowds of people getting changed, out into the cold, stinging dark of the carpark, to catch Mr. Lynn. He was unlocking the door of the horse-car, about to get in. MaryFields was with him. Polly slowed down and approached rather hesitantly. But they were clearly expecting her. They both turned round.

"h.e.l.lo, Polly!" they both said. "Did you like it?" Polly asked.

Mr. Lynn nodded. Mary Fields said, "Oh, enormously! You were terrific, Polly. You ought to take up gymnastics seriously-or acting, for that matter. Shouldn't she?" she asked Mr. Lynn.

"Quite possibly," he said. Polly knew he did not really agree. She thought it was because he knew there were other things she could do better than those, but she wanted to make sure.

"Frankly," Mary said to Polly, "I wasn't too keen when Tom insisted on coming all this way. You know the way he drives. But it was worth the sacrifice. Really."

'Thanks," Polly said. She did not like Mary Fields, and she could tell Mary still did not like her, but she could tell Mary was truly meaning to be generous. She smiled warmly at her, and felt the white make-up on her face crinkle. "What was wrong?" she asked Mr. Lynn.

"Nothing," he said. "It was sheer magic, mostly because of you. But do you really want to be called Pierrot?"

"A joke," Polly explained, embarra.s.sed because Mary Fields was standing there with her hands in her pockets, s.h.i.+vering. "A mixture between Polly and Hero."

"Yes I got that," Mr. Lynn said. He laughed, and put out a hand and rubbed Polly on the top of her little black cap. "Good night, Pierrot. You were splendid. But we have to go. See you."

Polly stood back while the horse-car started with a snarl. She watched its headlights come on like angry eyes and watched it leap into motion as if someone had kicked it in the rear. She waved a drooping sleeve after it and went in to change.

Changing took quite a while. Polly's clothes had got scattered by numbers of people all too excited by success to be careful. By the time she had found them, everyone else had gone. Polly came out with her hair down, but still with a chalk-white face, to find thelast people distantly banging car doors and shouting "Good night!" She felt dejected. She did not feel like walking all the way to Granny's alone. Some of the roads were quite dark. But it was too late to cadge a lift now. She set off, turning left out of the school gate, under the streetlight.

Immediately there was a tall person walking beside her. Polly could see him, sideways from behind her hair, and hear his feet heavily hitting the pavement. But she could not bring herself to look properly. She knew it would be Seb. The trick with the tickets had not worked and Seb knew. Her heart banged and she walked faster. The heavy walker beside her kept up with her. Polly could feel him waiting for her to be scared enough to look round. She put off looking, and put it off, until she came to the next streetlight, and then she could not bear not looking any longer. Her made-up face with its black teardrop turned almost helplessly toward the left. Her black-rimmed eyes met the heavy face and black-pouched eyes of Mr. Leroy.

Polly rather thought she stared at him like a rabbit. Mr. Leroy stared back sarcastically. His expensive coat made him look big as bear. He smelled of fine cloth and expensive living. Instead of an umbrella this time, he was carrying one of those shooting-sticks with big rings for a handle that unfold into a seat. He swung it while they stared, gently and unpleasantly.

"You keep ignoring warnings, don't you, little girl?" he said.

"Why?"

"And why why to you too!" Polly retorted. She was so frightened that she seemed to have gone right out the other side, into bravery again. "Why? to you too!" Polly retorted. She was so frightened that she seemed to have gone right out the other side, into bravery again. "Why? You You tell tell me me!"

"Laurel," said Mr. Leroy, gently swinging his stick, "my wife, is rather a special person. What's hers is hers for keeps. So, to put it bluntly, keep your thieving hands off, little girl. This is the last warning you'll get."

"What about Mary Fields?" Polly asked angrily. "Do you give her her warnings too?" warnings too?"

"Mary Fields," said Mr. Leroy, "hasn't been inside Hunsdon House. Or," he added, with a specially hard and sarcastic look,straight into Polly's face, "taken anything away from there."

Polly knew then that Mr. Leroy knew all about the Fire and Hemlock Fire and Hemlock picture hanging in Granny's house above her bed, and maybe about the stolen photograph too. The jolt of guilt that gave her, and the jolt of yet more fear, seemed to shock a lot more courage into her. "You've no right to keep warning me," she said. Her voice sounded so firm it surprised her. "It's none of your business what I do. You don't own people-you or Laurel." picture hanging in Granny's house above her bed, and maybe about the stolen photograph too. The jolt of guilt that gave her, and the jolt of yet more fear, seemed to shock a lot more courage into her. "You've no right to keep warning me," she said. Her voice sounded so firm it surprised her. "It's none of your business what I do. You don't own people-you or Laurel."

Mr. Leroy's stick stopped swinging and poised, raised. Polly flinched, thinking he was going to hit her with it, but she managed not to cower away. "Do you think you're safe or something?" Mr. Leroy said. He sounded almost astonished. "Do you truly think that pendant you wear is going to keep you safe?" Polly's hand dived to make sure of the opal pendant. It was still there, a well-known little lump under her sweater. "It won't," said Mr. Leroy. "I got its measure a while back. Now will you heed my warning?"

"No," said Polly. She meant it. But one part of her mind suddenly stood away from the rest and wondered. Is this me saying that? What's so worth getting in a fight with Mr. Leroy about?

Mr. Leroy's stick swung and stopped, pointing at Polly. "In that case," he said, "prepare to regret it, little girl. Believe me, you'll regret it. You haven't even begun to see what can happen to you yet." The pointing stick poised, not quite hesitating. "You're very young," Mr. Leroy said. "You've got angry and decided to be defiant. Change your mind."

Polly found she was shaking her head. Why? asked the other part that found her doing it. He's right.

"Or perhaps you don't understand?" suggested Mr. Leroy.

The part of Polly which seemed to be questioning everything at once agreed. No, you don't understand, do you? You could have got it all wrong. He's probably only accusing you of stealing pictures. Say you'll give them back before he goes to the police. But the main part of Polly had no doubt at all. She said challengingly, "Then you make me understand. You say what it's about."

"All right," said Mr. Leroy. "We are talking about Thomas Lynn.

Now, for the third time, will you do as you have been told?"

"No!" Polly almost shouted. The two parts of her came together into a pillar of white anger. "I told you no, and I mean mean no!" no!"

"You silly little girl!" said Mr. Leroy. The stick swung a little further, to point properly at Polly, and then swept contemptuously away. Mr. Leroy turned as the stick swung, and walked off down the street, a triple rhythm of two heavy feet and the sharp tweet tweet of the stick hitting the pavement. of the stick hitting the pavement.

Polly hurried home to Granny's, expecting horrors to jump out at her at every corner. She made herself walk, though, and not run, because she did not want Mr. Leroy to know how terrified she was. She was sure he knew everything she did.

"What's up, love?" Granny asked while she was helping Polly take the white off her face. "Didn't it go well again?"

Polly did not dare talk about Mr. Leroy in case he knew and did something to Granny. "It was magic!" she said. "And I was superb!"

"That sounds like your friend Nina, not you," Granny said. "Didn't Mr. Lynn come after all, then?" Polly stared at her. Granny chuckled. "No, I'm not a mind-reader. He rang up and asked if you'd really like him to come. I told him about yesterday, and about Ivy being away, so he said he would."

So was this how Mr. Leroy knew? Polly wondered. Or was it through Nina somehow?