21st December

It’s getting colder and colder every day. That’s why I haven’t been writing. For the past few days my hands have been too cold to even function properly and I’ve been worried about losing them at work. Or maybe they’ll go blue, like the old man’s fingers at Jane’s house did, and just fall off. Polly has been very kind and has made gloves for us all out of one of her own aprons. Granted it was old, but the kindness was overwhelming. I drew her into a hug and began to cry with happiness. For the first time in days I will be able to feel my fingers.

“You are a strange little lass, aren’t you,” she says, laughing. I get the feeling she’s laughing at me, but I don’t care, my hands are warm.

          I notice on the scraps left of the apron the initials MW and I ask her whose they are and she answers her own. I tell her that I knew for a fact that Polly does not begin with M and she agrees. It is only then, after about ten years of living with her that I learn that Polly is not her real name. Her name is Mary. I ask her how come she ended up being called Polly by people and she says Polly is a version of Molly and Molly is short for Mary.

          “Molly isn’t short for Mary,” I exclaim, “It’s the same length sounding and longer writing.”

          “Well aren’t you a clever clogs,” she smiled.

          “Spurred on by this comment, I say, “And changing Molly into Polly is a silly idea. If that is the case we might as well call Millie, Pillie.”

          She laughs again, “Are you going to continue insulting my name or are you going to go to work?”

          I tell her I meant no offence, that I was about to leave for work and, once again, thanked her for the gloves.

          However, it unsettled me that I had lived with a person for most of my life and had not even known her real name and from that moment on I have spent more time with the Whites. Asking them questions and, more importantly, learning they’re names. Tim’s full name is Theodor and Lulu is Louisa, at least her short name made sense. I was right in thinking Ma Whites’ name was Cynthia and Pa Whites’ name is Joseph.

          I’ve also learnt that our families have something in common. Both have lost their oldest child, although the dead Whites’ child wouldn’t be a child if he were alive. He’d have been a strapping man of 21. I think his name was Lucas. But they have also lost a younger sibling six years ago and this child I remember. One day he was there, the next he was gone, my tiny head didn’t understand that my play pal, Benjamin, had gone for good.

          That is one of the many things I don’t understand. Why would our God, who is said to be all powerful and kind, take away a child’s life? When I asked Ma that she told me not to be so blasphemous and hit me.