Poppy's War (21 page)

He gave her shoulders a quick squeeze, clearing his throat. ‘It’s all right, kid. Understandable, but this is meant to be a happy occasion. Don’t let Mabel see you crying. She was very cut up about what happened too. We don’t want to spoil her big day.’

‘Nobody bothers about me,’ Mrs Tanner muttered, holding out her glass. ‘What has an old woman got to do to get another drink round here?’

‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough, Ma?’ Joe said anxiously. ‘You’ll be too squiffy to go to the register office if you drink much more.’

Mrs Tanner opened her mouth to reply but she closed it again as Mabel entered the room and did a twirl. ‘How do I look, Joe?’

He shook his head. ‘Bloody marvellous, ducks. You look a million dollars.’

‘You look lovely,’ Poppy said sincerely.

Mabel’s cheeks glowed pink and she puffed out her chest. ‘It took all my savings, and it’s rayon not silk, but you’d never know, would you?’

Poppy shook her head. ‘Of course not.’ She would die rather than say that the blue and white floral dress with its padded shoulders and belted waist might be a clever high street copy, but it was nothing like the fashionable silk gowns that Pamela Pallister wore. If Poppy were to be completely honest she would have to admit that Mabel’s dress emphasised her bulges and made her look rather podgy, but even under torture on the rack the truth would not be dragged out of her. She would not wish to see the happiness fade from Mabel’s pretty face or the loving look in Joe’s eyes wiped away by a careless word. ‘You look absolutely beautiful, Mabel. Joe’s a lucky man.’

Joe leapt to his feet as something in the street outside caught his eye. ‘It’s my mate Dennis. Our lift is here. I know it ain’t done for the bride and groom to travel together, Mabel love, but needs must.’ He moved to Mrs Tanner’s side and helped her from her chair. ‘Can you manage to walk or shall I carry you, Ma?’

She shook her stick at him. ‘Get away from me, you big lump. I ain’t so crippled I can’t walk a step or two to the taxi.’

Mabel was in the middle of securing her blue straw hat with a hatpin. She paused, exchanging glances with Joe. ‘It’s not a taxi, Mum.’

Poppy’s hand flew to her mouth as she smothered a giggle. Outside she could see a brewer’s dray decorated with white ribbons. The sturdy Shire horse had bows tied to its mane and the driver wore a rather battered top hat. Suddenly everything settled into perspective and she put all thoughts of Squire’s Knapp and the elegant Carroll family out of her mind. This was how things were done here in Ilford, and it was wartime when everything was topsy-turvy. This was her real family and she was determined to have fun.

The ceremony was simple and of necessity brief as there were two other couples waiting to be married. Poppy had a lump in her throat as Mabel, looking every inch the radiant bride, left the register office on Joe’s arm. Mabel’s Uncle Fred had a box Brownie and he took several photographs in the vestibule, making everyone stand in line and say ‘cheese’, which also made Poppy want to giggle. Outside it had started to spit with rain and, despite her protests that she was the eldest sister and in a poor state of health, Mrs Tanner was crammed in the back seat of Uncle Fred’s Austin Seven with Auntie Dottie, while Auntie Ida sat in the front.

Poppy was relieved that there was no room in the car for her as she preferred riding on the dray. She made herself as comfortable as possible on an old
mattress
that had seen better days and was only fit for a rubbish tip, while Mabel and Joe sat on the driver’s seat next to Dennis, who seemed to have something wrong with his legs and walked with a strange lop-sided gait. He had insisted on lifting Poppy onto the dray, but she did not like the way his hands had lingered around her waist or the look in his eyes as he glanced at her bare legs. She was beginning to wish she had worn the hideous lisle stockings that she had been compelled to wear to school in winter. No man in his right mind would ogle a girl in lisle stockings, unless he was completely desperate.

Back at the house everyone filed into the front room and there was an uncomfortable silence as if they were all waiting for someone to strike up a conversation. Poppy had seen more cheerful faces in the doctor’s waiting room, but she could think of nothing to say. Mrs Tanner had ousted her sister Dottie from the chair by the fire and the pair of them were left glowering at each other after the battle of wills. Mabel left the room saying she was going to fetch the sandwiches, and it seemed that the party was doomed to be more like a wake until Joe produced a crate of brown ale from beneath the table. He poured sherry for the ladies and filled pint mugs with beer for the men.

‘Down the hatch.’ Uncle Fred took a hefty swig of beer.

Auntie Ida raised her sherry glass. ‘To the bride
and
groom,’ she said, staring pointedly at her husband.

Uncle Fred flushed brick red and cleared his throat. ‘Yes, of course. The bride and groom, God bless ’em.’

‘Well done, Joe.’ Dennis slapped him on the back. ‘You’ve got yourself a real smasher.’

Mabel had just come into the room carrying a plate heaped with sandwiches. She bobbed a curtsey. ‘Ta ever so, Dennis. You tell him that often enough and maybe he’ll believe you.’

Joe slipped his arm around her waist. ‘I know it already, ducks. I’m the luckiest man alive.’ He planted a smacking kiss on her cheek.

‘Never mind the canoodling,’ Mrs Tanner said crossly. ‘I’m starving. Give us a sandwich, Mabel.’

It might not have been the best beginning to a party, but the ice was broken and as the beer and sherry went down, the conversation picked up. Mabel handed round meat paste sandwiches and slices of Victoria sponge cake. Auntie Dottie nibbled a sandwich having first opened it up and inspected the filling. ‘Couldn’t you get any tinned salmon, Mabel? We always had salmon and cucumber sandwiches at family weddings.’

‘No, Auntie. They’d run out at the Home and Colonial.’

‘You should try Waitrose, dear,’ Auntie Ida said, helping herself to cake. ‘I always shop there and have my order delivered.’

‘Stop showing off, Ida,’ Mrs Tanner said, scowling. ‘I expect you get stuff on the black market anyway. I reckon that Fred’s one of them spivs you hear talked about on the wireless; making money out of other people’s hardship.’

‘Hold on, Maggie,’ Fred protested, gulping down a tot of brandy from a bottle that Joe had found at the back of the cupboard. ‘I’m no spiv. I’m an auctioneer and businessman.’

‘Same thing,’ Mrs Tanner muttered. ‘Fill me glass up, Joe.’

‘Have you tried the cake, Poppy?’ Mabel wafted the plate under her nose. ‘I made it myself. I couldn’t get any fat so I used liquid paraffin. It rose a treat in the oven. Do have a bit before the gannets eat the lot.’

‘Thanks, it looks lovely.’ Dutifully, Poppy took a slice. She bit into it and managed a smile. ‘It’s super. You’d never know the difference, Mabel.’ She tried not to think of the feather-light sponges that Mrs Toon made without the aid of liquid paraffin, or the warm scones straight from the oven served with homemade raspberry jam.

It was getting dark, and the blackout curtains had to be drawn before Mabel switched on the light. The sandwiches had been consumed and there were only a couple of slices of cake left on the plate. Joe’s crate of brown ale was emptying fast and the level in the sherry bottle had gone down considerably. Uncle Fred went out to his car and returned with a bottle of gin and another of whisky. ‘Go easy on the
measures
,’ he told Joe in a low voice. ‘Dennis got me these.’ He tapped the side of his nose and winked.

There was a sudden lull in conversation and Dennis leapt to his feet. ‘Come on, folks, this is a wedding, not a wake. Let’s have some music.’ He limped over to a small upright piano that stood in the corner shrouded in a chenille cloth. ‘The old harp in a coffin,’ he said, laughing loudly. ‘Any requests?’ Without giving anyone time to answer he sat on the piano stool and began a rendering of ‘Roll out the Barrel’ with more enthusiasm than artistic merit.

Joe pushed the settee back against the wall and moved the armchairs into the bay window. He took the cake plate from Mabel and put it down on the table. ‘May I have this dance, Mrs Brown?’

‘Ooer, that doesn’t half sound good,’ Mabel said, flinging her arms around his neck. ‘Delighted, I’m sure, Mr Brown.’

‘There’s nothing like a good wedding, I say,’ Auntie Ida said, draining her glass. ‘Get us a drop of mother’s ruin, love.’ She held it out to Poppy. ‘Two fingers of gin and a dash of water.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Poppy went to fetch the bottle from the table.

Dottie nudged her elder sister. ‘Ain’t she got lovely manners, Ida? That’s what comes of living with toffs.’

Ida peered at Poppy through narrowed eyes as if she were having difficulty in focusing. ‘Yes, I heard
you’d
been evacuated to the country, dear. Nice place, is it?’

‘Very nice.’ Poppy poured the gin, guessing the amount, and added a splash of water. She handed it to Auntie Ida. ‘I hope that’s to your liking.’

‘So tell us about the people who took you in.’ Auntie Ida patted the empty seat on the settee. ‘Sit down, dear. We want to know everything.’

Next day Poppy made the return journey to Dorset. She had left Ilford early in the morning and arrived at Barton Lacey station late in the afternoon. Trains had been cancelled or simply delayed. She was tired and hungry and it was a good two-mile walk to Squire’s Knapp. This time there was no Jackson waiting for her in the Bentley and she had no other option than to go on foot. By the time she reached the house she had blisters on both heels and her small suitcase felt as though it was packed with bricks instead of a change of clothing and her toothbrush.

It was teatime and there was no one about on the estate. The sky was dark with rainclouds and the house looked shuttered and grey. The blackout curtains had already been drawn in the downstairs rooms and the front door was locked. She made her way round through the stables hoping to see one of the girls, but again there was no sign of life other than Goliath poking his great head over the stable door and whickering gently. She went to him and stroked his head, tickling his ears, which was what
he
seemed to enjoy most, but the rain had started in earnest and she hurried across the cobblestones to enter the house through the scullery. Again she seemed to have mistimed her arrival through no fault of her own. The table had been cleared and Cora, the girl from the village who had been hired to help out in the kitchen after Nancy’s sudden departure, was sweeping the floor.

‘Where is everyone?’ Poppy asked, setting her case down on the floor and warming her hands in front of the range.

‘Gone out. There’s a film show in the village hall.’ Cora continued sweeping.

‘Is Mrs Carroll at home?’

Cora frowned, leaning on the broom. ‘I think she wants to see you. That’s right, she does. You’re to go to the study as soon as you get here, that’s what she said. I remember now.’

‘Thanks.’ Picking up her case with a sigh, Poppy went in search of Mrs Carroll. She tapped on the study door.

‘Come.’

Mrs Carroll’s voice did not sound too inviting. She was leafing through a pile of papers and she did not look up when Poppy entered the room.

‘You wanted to see me, Mrs Carroll?’

Marina glanced at her, unsmiling. ‘Yes. take a seat.’ She set the documents aside. ‘How old are you now?’

Surprised by the sudden question and Mrs
Carroll’s
apparent loss of memory, Poppy sat down on the nearest chair. ‘Fourteen. I’ll be fifteen next April.’

‘Now that you’ve been reunited with your brother and he is a married man, you have a family of your own again. You’re too old to be kept here as an evacuee but you’re much too young to be taken on as a land girl. I know that’s what you wanted, but I’m afraid it’s impossible.’

‘But I do the same work as the other girls, ma’am.’

‘Nevertheless, I’d be flouting the law if I allowed you to continue. I overlooked your age in the past because you were orphaned and homeless, but now everything has changed, and I have no alternative but to send you home.’

Poppy stared at her aghast. ‘But it isn’t my home. I hardly know Mabel and her mother. Joe has gone back to his regiment and you promised Mum that I could stay here.’

‘That was a long time ago. Amy was paying for your schooling and you were helping to look after my grandson.’

‘But I can still look after Rupert. I love him and he loves me.’

Marina frowned. ‘Sentimental nonsense. I don’t doubt that you’re fond of the boy and he likes you, but then a two-year-old loves anyone who makes a fuss of them. Anyway, your room will be occupied by a professional nanny whom my daughter has employed to look after her son, and she will be
starting
at the beginning of next week. I’ve written a glowing reference for you to give to any future employer, and I’ve sent a telegram to your sister-in-law telling her to expect you tomorrow evening. I’m sorry, Poppy, I know you’ve settled down here and you’ve been very little trouble during your stay, but I have no choice. I wish you every success in the future, but you will leave Squire’s Knapp in the morning.’

Chapter Eleven

‘IT’S NOT BLOODY
fair,’ Edie said, hooking her arm around Poppy’s shoulders. ‘Mrs C is an old bat and I don’t care who hears me say so.’

‘Hush, keep your voice down.’ Jean glanced anxiously up and down the railway platform. ‘You’ll get us all sacked if you don’t watch your tongue.’ She patted Poppy on the cheek. ‘Not that I disagree with Edie. We’ll miss you terribly.’

Mavis came hurrying through the ticket hall clutching a bar of chocolate which she thrust into Poppy’s hands. ‘I used all my coupons for this, so don’t go sharing it around. It’s for you and you alone, love.’ Pushing Edie aside, Mavis gave Poppy a hug. ‘I can’t believe you’re leaving us.’

Close to tears, Poppy sniffed. ‘I don’t want to go, but she said I’m too young to be a land girl.’

‘She makes me sick,’ Edie said bitterly. ‘The old hypocrite. She was happy enough to let you slog away when it suited her, and play nanny to young Rupert, but now she’s no use for you you’re chucked out with the bath water.’