Poppy's War (17 page)

‘You poor little sod,’ Edie said with feeling.

*

Whether it was from innate generosity or the fact that she had enjoyed a few sherries before lunch and a glass of wine with her meal, Marina gave Poppy permission to search the attics for anything that the land girls might need to make them more comfortable, and Poppy could not wait to pass the information on. Edie, Mavis and Jean were only too delighted to spend the afternoon exploring the top floor of the house, which had once been the servants’ quarters but was now disused, as Mrs Toon had a small flat on the third floor adjacent to the nursery suite, and Violet went home each evening.

After a happy couple of hours foraging they found a cedar-lined chest filled with woollen blankets, several oddments of carpet and a couple of threadbare but useable rugs. Edie whooped with glee when she discovered a zinc bath hidden beneath a dust sheet and Mavis found some enamel ewers and a china washbowl set patterned with cabbage roses and violets. Jean uncovered a Victorian burr walnut dressing table mirror, which she insisted would come in handy if and when they had time to put on makeup, and Poppy almost trod on a small oil painting of Squire’s Knapp in the days when people rode about in carriages. She tucked it under her arm, intending it for her room. She was certain that no one would mind as it was dusty and obviously long forgotten.

It took several trips to ferry everything down four flights of stairs and across the stable yard to the tack
room
. It was dark by the time they fetched the last rug and the bathtub, but there was a general feeling of a job well done. Mavis had proved to have a knack with combustibles and had the fire roaring up the chimney in the tack room, and had even managed to light the pot-bellied stove in their dormitory. In the glow of the paraffin lamps the room looked almost homely with a patchwork of carpet and rugs on the newly swept and scrubbed floor, and the blankets neatly folded on the beds.

Poppy felt quite envious as she left them to finish unpacking their things in readiness for work next day, but she had the painting to put on the wall by her bed. She could look at it as she drifted off to sleep and pretend that it was her home with Mum and Dad, Gran and Grandad living there too, and of course Guy.

It was hard to return to school next day knowing that the girls were being put to work on the home farm, but Poppy had no alternative. She had let slip to Mavis, in a burst of confidence while they were sorting through the cedar chest for blankets that were not too moth-eaten, that she would be fourteen next Saturday. Of course Mavis had told Jean, who immediately passed the news on to Edie, and they had wanted to know if she was going to have a party. Mavis had been quite upset when Poppy shrugged her shoulders and said that she doubted if anyone in the big house would be the least bit interested. It was at times like these that
homesickness
took over and she felt a million miles from her family.

After school Poppy could barely contain her excitement as she travelled home on the bus. She was eager to see the girls again and instead of going straight to her room, as she would normally have done, she ran to the stables. But the only person there was Sid, who was looking distinctly gloomy.

‘What’s up?’ Poppy asked breathlessly. ‘Why the long face?’

He continued shovelling a mixture of straw and dung into a wooden handcart. ‘Mr Carroll has bought a new shire horse and he expects me to work with it. I’m a stable lad, not a bloody farm hand.’

‘It’s still a horse, and you like working with horses.’

‘That don’t include pulling a plough and towing a hay wagon. I wanted to get a job in a racing stable and train to be a jockey. Now they’re going to turn me into a farmer.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Poppy murmured. ‘I really am, Sid, but I was looking for the girls. D’you know where they are?’

‘Powdering their noses, I expect. It’ll be me who does the heavy work while they sit back and watch.’ He stomped off into the stall and resumed sweeping, sending flurries of straw smelling strongly of ammonia onto the cobblestones.

Poppy was not dressed for walking across muddy fields and she decided to change out of her school
clothes
before going in search of the girls. As she entered the house by the back door she could hear the sound of voices in the kitchen. She hurried through the scullery and found her new friends seated round the table munching thick slices of bread and jam. The aroma of freshly baked bread and hot tea, with just a hint of sweet strawberry jam, made Poppy’s mouth water.

Jean saw her first and she waved. ‘Come and join us, Poppy. How was school?’

‘I hated school,’ Edie said, pointing a jammy knife at Poppy. ‘Don’t tell me you like it, kid.’

‘Sit down and have a cup of tea.’ Mrs Toon took a cup and saucer from the dresser. ‘Don’t take any notice of her, Poppy. You’ll need a good education if you’re to get on in the world.’

‘My back is killing me,’ Mavis said, moving her head from side to side and frowning. ‘We’ve been picking huge chunks of chalk out of the soil all day. I’m sure I must have done myself an injury.’

‘Never mind that now.’ Jean patted the empty chair beside her. ‘Sit down, Poppy. Were your ears burning today?’

Poppy slid onto the hard wooden seat, shaking her head. ‘No, why?’

‘Because we was talking about you,’ Edie said, cutting in before Jean had a chance to explain. ‘We’re going to celebrate your birthday on Saturday. We’re taking you to the pub.’

Mrs Toon put the teapot down on its stand with a
thud
. ‘She’s too young for that sort of thing, miss. Don’t you lot go leading her astray.’

On Saturday evening the sun came out in between the April showers and raindrops sparkled on the hedgerows like diamond necklaces. Poppy waited in the lane outside the wrought iron gates. It had been decided by the committee of three, Jean, Edie and Mavis, that it would be best if Mrs Carroll was kept in ignorance of their little jaunt. Not, they said, that they were doing anything wrong, but she might not think it appropriate to take a fourteen-year-old to the pub.

Suddenly nervous, Poppy shifted from one foot to the other. She felt incredibly grown-up and smart in the dress that Mavis had altered to fit her. The pale green crêpe de chine afternoon gown, which had once belonged to Miss Pamela, was almost the exact shade of the new shoots on the blackthorn, and Mavis assured her that it brought out the colour of her eyes. She had helped to tame Poppy’s dark curls so that when released from the plaits she normally wore her hair floated around her head and shoulders in a cascade of shining waves. Poppy did not possess any stockings but Mavis had filched some gravy browning from the pantry and had shown her how to rub it on her legs so that it was a fair imitation of silk stockings. She had produced an eyebrow pencil and proceeded to draw a line up the back of Poppy’s legs, although it had been difficult not to laugh and
wriggle
about as it tickled. At the sound of approaching voices, Poppy peeped round the corner and a shiver of excitement ran down her spine as she saw the girls, dressed to the nines, strolling arm in arm along the avenue of budding copper beeches.

‘Happy birthday, Poppy.’ Edie grabbed her round the waist and gave her a twirl. ‘My, you look the bee’s knees. Doesn’t she, girls?’

‘She certainly does,’ Jean agreed, smiling. ‘You look super, Poppy.’

‘Thanks to Mavis,’ Poppy said shyly.

Mavis shook her head. ‘Nonsense. I just did a few tweaks, that’s all. Who does she remind you of, Jean?’

‘I don’t know, but she looks terribly grown-up.’

‘Yes, you do,’ Mavis insisted. ‘I bet Edie can guess who I mean.’

Edie angled her head, staring thoughtfully at Poppy. ‘Well, it ain’t Harpo Marx.’ She slapped Poppy on the shoulder. ‘Don’t look so worried, kid. I was only joking.’

‘Vivien Leigh,’ Mavis said impatiently. ‘Vivien Leigh in
Fire Over England
. I saw it at the Odeon three times. She could be her double.’

‘Well, come on, Viv,’ Edie said, linking her hand through Poppy’s arm. ‘Let’s celebrate your birthday in style.’

‘Let old Hitler invade now,’ Mavis said happily. ‘We’ll show him who’s who round here.’

Edie began to sing a rather rude song about
Hitler’s
anatomy which struck Poppy as being terribly daring and very funny, and she hardly noticed that they walked the best part of two miles to the Rose and Crown. Situated on the edge of the village green, surrounded by thatched cottages and facing the duck pond, the pub boasted two bars: the public bar for the farm labourers and working men and the saloon bar for passing trade.

‘You’d better not come inside, Poppy,’ Mavis said, glancing round as if she expected Marina to leap out of the pond like Venus rising from the sea. ‘It’s a lovely evening. We can sit outside.’

Poppy was disappointed but she did not want to spoil things by acting like a baby. She perched on a wooden bench, taking care not to move about too much in case she snagged her skirt on a splinter. Edie, Jean and Mavis had disappeared into the pub, and it seemed to Poppy that they were taking their time over buying drinks. Perhaps there was a queue at the bar, although the other tables outside were empty, and there was a definite chill in the air as the sun sank in the west. She shivered, wrapping her arms around her body in an attempt to keep warm. She was determined to enjoy her first real taste of freedom since Amy had left for Singapore. She had hoped to hear from her but so far there had been nothing in the post. She wondered if Amy had written to Guy and then chided herself for being so silly. Of course Amy would have corresponded with her fiancé; she
loved
Guy and it was only the war that had caused them to separate.

Just as Poppy was beginning to think she had been forgotten, Edie breezed out of the pub and thrust a half-pint mug in her hands. ‘It’s only cider, love. It’ll warm the cockles of your heart.’

Mavis took a seat beside Poppy. ‘Are you sure it’s not alcoholic, Edie?’

‘Nah! They give that stuff to babies. Here’s to you, Poppy. Happy birthday.’

Jean shivered and wrapped her cardigan around her shoulders as she sipped a glass of something dark and red. ‘Yes, happy birthday, Poppy. Here’s how.’

Poppy had not the faintest idea what ‘here’s how’ meant, but she echoed it anyway and took a long draught of cider. It was refreshingly tangy and tasted of apples. She drained the glass. ‘Thank you all, that was lovely. Can I have another?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Jean said warily.

‘Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport,’ Edie said, laughing. She took Poppy’s glass. ‘Okay, kid. But drink it a bit slower this time.’

Poppy felt pleasantly muzzy as she sipped her drink. Edie was telling jokes, most of which she did not get, but the others were laughing, and Poppy did her best to join in, but suddenly she began to feel very strange. She rose to her feet, but the world began to spin around her and she fell back onto the bench.

‘Oh heavens, she’s drunk.’ Jean leapt to her feet. ‘We’d best get her home, girls.’

‘Don’t look now but there’s a bloody great limo pulled up,’ Edie said in a low voice. ‘And there’s two chaps in uniform getting out. I think someone must have phoned the cops. Now we’re for it.’

Chapter Nine

‘I’M PERFECTLY ALL
right,’ Poppy said, rising unsteadily to her feet. She peered into the gathering gloom and for a moment she thought she must be extremely drunk. ‘It’s not the police,’ she murmured, waving frantically. ‘Guy, it’s me. Over here.’

‘Guy!’ Jean and Mavis spoke as one.

‘That’s torn it,’ Edie said gloomily. ‘The boss’s son complete with reinforcements. Bloody hell.’

Guy strode towards them with Algy hot on his heels. Behind them, Poppy could just make out Miss Pamela and her husband. She wondered why they were staring at her and decided it must be her posh frock. She lurched towards Guy, holding out her arms. ‘It’s my birthday, Guy. Have you come to join the party?’

‘What’s going on here?’ he demanded. ‘Who are these people, Poppy?’

Jean slipped her arm around Poppy’s shoulders. ‘Excuse me, Mr Carroll, but I resent your tone. We brought Poppy out to celebrate her birthday, which everyone in your house seemed to have overlooked. The poor kid would have been totally ignored but for us.’

Guy recoiled, staring at Jean in surprise. ‘I’m sorry, who are you?’

‘Jean Hodge, and my friends are Edie and Mavis. We’re in the Land Army and we work for your mother.’

‘How do you, Miss Hodge?’ Algy said, shaking Jean’s hand. ‘You’ll have to excuse my friend; he’s a bit over-protective of young Poppy, but then she’s just a kid and she really shouldn’t be drinking alcohol, so he has got a point.’

‘Thanks, Algy,’ Guy said, frowning. ‘I can speak for myself.’

‘Guy, what on earth is going on?’ Pamela’s voice was shrill and impatient. ‘Mummy will be wondering what’s happened. She was expecting us half an hour ago and Rupert should have been tucked up in bed an hour ago.’

‘Rupert,’ Poppy said, smiling. ‘Where’s my boy?’

‘We’re coming, Pam.’ Guy took Poppy by the hand. ‘I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day. I’m taking you home.’

Edie stepped forward, sticking her chin out. ‘What if she don’t want to go, mister? Doesn’t she get a say in this?’

‘She’s drunk,’ Guy said drily. ‘I don’t think she knows where she is or what she’s doing. Come along, Poppy.’

‘But Guy, we were having a good time.’ Focusing on his face with difficulty, Poppy could see that he
was
not going to take no for an answer. ‘Oh, all right, but you’re being mean.’

‘That’s a good girl,’ Algy said, nodding his head and smiling. ‘You go with Guy, and I’ll stay here and see the ladies home. It’s not safe for young women to walk the country lanes alone at night.’

‘I never could resist a man in uniform, but I think we might be safer without you, mate,’ Edie said, chuckling. ‘Don’t let that put you off, though. Mine’s a gin and water. Make it a double seeing as how it’s turning a bit chilly.’

Next morning Poppy woke up with a dry mouth and the hint of a headache. The beautiful silk dress was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, and as she swung her legs over the side of the bed she thought for one horrible moment that she had contracted some hideous skin disease. She stared in horror at her mottled skin, but then she remembered that it was simply gravy browning which was smudged and streaked. Gradually it was all beginning to come back to her, including the humiliating car journey home with Pamela going on and on about the evils of drink, which was a bit hypocritical coming from someone whose family drank wine at almost every meal and were not averse to a sherry or two before dinner. Poppy had made herself as small as possible in the corner of the back seat, hoping that Miss Pamela would grow tired of berating her, but Mr Pallister had also gone on and on until her head was
spinning
. She had taken a little comfort when Guy held her hand, giving it a squeeze as if to say everything was all right, even though she knew it was not and she hadn’t heard the last of this by a long chalk.