Poppy's War (28 page)

Lyon’s Corner House on the corner of Oxford Street close to Marble Arch was an imposing building. Poppy had been there once before when Mum and Gran had taken her up to see Father Christmas at
Selfridges
, and they had gone to Maison Lyons for afternoon tea to complete the treat. She had been so small that she had had to kneel on the chair in order to eat her Knickerbocker Glory, a sickly confection made with jelly, ice cream and tinned fruit, topped with meringue and whipped cream. Afterwards, on the way home on the Green Line bus which was travelling at a snail’s pace due to the pea-souper fog, Poppy remembered feeling terribly sick. Worse still, Gran had told everyone that it was her own fault for scoffing something that was almost as big as she was. Tonight she had no intention of disgracing herself in such a manner.

Dennis led her through the huge food hall, past counters piled high with chocolate boxes decorated with enormous satin bows, although they were probably empty and just for show nowadays, Poppy thought ruefully. It had always been her ambition to be given one of those luxurious boxes filled with delicious chocolates, but Dennis was guiding her away from the opulent array towards the stairs leading down to the Brasserie.

The cloakroom attendant raised her eyebrows when she was handed the brown paper parcel containing Poppy’s old clothes and shoes, but she checked in their outer garments without comment. At the entrance to the restaurant a maître d’ resplendent in a black swallow-tail coat greeted them solemnly and led them to a table beside a potted palm, while an orchestra consisting of rather elderly
musicians
played popular dance music. Dennis held out a chair for Poppy and she was about to sit down when someone called her name. She stood absolutely still, hardly daring to look round.

Chapter Fourteen

JEAN LEAPT UP
from her seat and rushed towards Poppy, holding out her arms. ‘It is you. I thought it was when I saw you come through the door, but you’ve grown up so much I can hardly believe it.’ She embraced Poppy in a hug.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I might ask the same of you.’ Jean turned to Dennis with a friendly smile. ‘And who is this?’

Poppy heard the words but they barely registered. Glancing over Jean’s shoulder she could see Guy and Algy seated at the next table. ‘Dennis,’ she murmured vaguely. ‘This is Dennis Chapman, my brother’s old school friend.’

‘Here,’ Dennis said, chuckling. ‘Less of the old if you don’t mind, kid.’ He held out his hand. ‘How do, Jean. Pleased to meet you.’

‘Hello, Dennis.’ She shook his hand, but there was a trace of coolness in her smile. ‘It’s nice to meet one of Poppy’s friends. Have you known her long?’

He opened his mouth to reply but Algy had risen to his feet and he moved to Poppy’s side, giving her a peck on the cheek. ‘Poppy, old thing. By golly, it’s good to see you looking so – so fine.’ He turned to
Dennis
, proffering his hand. ‘How do you do? Since the girls have forgotten their manners, I’d better introduce myself. Algy Fenton-Jones, and the grim-looking individual seated at the next table is Guy Carroll.’ He shot a meaningful glance in Guy’s direction.

Dennis shook Algy’s hand, but his expression remained neutral. ‘Dennis Chapman. Pleased to meet you, squire.’

Jean was saying something but Poppy’s gaze was fixed on Guy, who had risen slowly from his seat and was coming towards her, seemingly in slow motion. She had to remind herself to breathe. ‘Guy,’ she whispered.

He acknowledged Dennis with a brief nod of his head. ‘Hello, Poppy.’

‘Is that all you can say to the girl after all this time?’ Jean said with a teasing smile. ‘Just look at her, Guy. Can you believe that this is the same kid who helped out on the farm and was scared stiff of everything with hooves and horns?’

Algy slipped his arm around Jean’s waist. ‘Our food’s getting cold, darling. Perhaps we can catch up later, and give these two people a chance to order their meal.’

Jean squeezed Poppy’s hand. ‘Of course. It’s a special occasion, isn’t it? We sent you a birthday card, that’s if Mavis remembered to post it.’

Poppy shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. She did not have to look at Dennis to know
that
he was displeased. Resentment oozed out of every pore and if he had been a dog she was certain that his hackles would have been raised as he glared at Guy and Algy.

‘I haven’t forgotten your fourteenth birthday when we got you drunk on cider,’ Jean continued, apparently oblivious to the tense atmosphere. ‘D’you remember that evening outside the village pub, Guy?’

‘That was a long time ago.’

Her pulses were racing and she was certain that her heartbeats could be heard above the tune the orchestra was playing. She wished that Guy would relax and smile at her, but his expression was stony. She turned to Dennis, forcing her lips into what she hoped was a cheerful smile. ‘Dennis, I’d like you to meet Mr Carroll. His mother took me in when I was evacuated to the country.’

‘It’s Pilot Officer Carroll now, Poppy,’ Algy said proudly. ‘Guy was the first one to get his wings. I only made navigator.’

Guy and Dennis faced each other like opponents squaring up for a fight, but it was Guy who eventually broke the tension. ‘How do you do?’

‘Very well, mate. But don’t let us keep you from your dinner.’ Dennis hooked his arm around Poppy’s shoulders in a proprietorial gesture. ‘Best take a seat, love. The waiter wants to take our order.’

‘We’ll catch up after dinner,’ Jean said cheerfully. ‘I’ve lots to tell you, Poppy.’

‘I can’t wait to hear all the news.’ Even as the words left her lips, Poppy realised that it was not what Dennis wanted to hear. She eyed him warily. What had started out as an exciting evening was turning into something of a disaster. Guy and Dennis obviously disliked each other on sight, which was something she could not fully comprehend, and it led her to make unfavourable comparisons between them. Guy with his athletic physique and fine features looked every inch the fighter pilot hero as portrayed on the silver screen, while the part of Heathcliff might have been written with Dennis in mind.

‘We came here to eat, so let’s order before they close the damned kitchen.’ Dennis moved awkwardly to hold the chair for Poppy.

Some of the other diners were staring at him as people always did when they saw his odd shambling gait, and Poppy was torn between pity and exasperation. ‘All right,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But there’s no need to be rude.’

The waiter reappeared at Dennis’s side. ‘Are you ready to order, sir?’

‘Almost. Give us a couple of minutes, mate.’ Dennis opened the menu and stared at its contents, frowning.

Out of the corner of her eye Poppy could see the next table. Jean, Algy and Guy were laughing and talking as if they had not a care in the world. They were only sitting a couple of yards away from her but it might as well have been a mile.

‘What will you have, love?’

She shook her head. ‘You order for me, Dennis.’ His pleased smile made the small sacrifice of her independence worthwhile. Despite his outward display of confidence she realised that he felt ill at ease in the company of two men he considered to be his superiors. But now, to her chagrin, he was ordering their meal in a loud voice and speaking to the waiter in such a patronising manner that she wished she could crawl under the table and hide. She stole a glance over her shoulder and found that Guy was staring at her with a question in his eyes.

The meal dragged on. Poppy ate the food put before her but everything tasted exactly the same. She tried to look as though she was enjoying herself but she was painfully aware that Dennis was talking too loudly, laughing at his own jokes and generally putting on a show which was not entirely for her benefit. She stole a glance at Guy every now and then but all she saw was his profile. He appeared to have forgotten her existence and it saddened her. She had felt attractive and chic in her new clothes, but it seemed that Guy could hardly bear to look at her. Perhaps he would like her better if she wore her old jodhpurs and sweater and smelt of the stables rather than the Californian Poppy perfume that Dennis had generously included in her magnificent birthday present.

‘I’ll finish off your apple pie if it’s too much for
you
,’ Dennis said, reaching out to take her plate. ‘It’s a crying shame to waste good food.’

‘It was lovely, but I’m full. Thanks, Dennis, it was a lovely dinner.’

‘Three courses and coffee for one and six,’ he said with his mouth full of pie. ‘I call that a bargain.’ He raised his hand to beckon the waiter. ‘Oy, mate. The lady is ready for coffee, and you can bring mine too. It won’t take me long to clear me plate.’

Poppy rose to her feet. ‘I’m just going to powder my nose.’

He nodded his head and continued shovelling pie into his mouth as if it were his last meal on earth. Poppy made her way between the tables to the ladies’ room. She was joined moments later by Jean.

‘Are you all right?’ Jean asked anxiously. ‘You look a bit pale.’

Washing her hands, Poppy dashed cold water on her face. ‘It’s a bit stuffy in there, and I’m not used to eating such a lot of food all in one go.’

Jean opened her handbag and took out a compact and a lipstick. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Poppy, but how well do you know Dennis? I mean, he’s a lot older than you, and he’s … well, I don’t quite know how to put this, but I wouldn’t have thought he was exactly your type.’

‘Dennis is an old friend of the family. He’s been really good to me.’

‘I’m sure he’s got a heart of gold, but you’re just
sixteen
, little more than a child, and he doesn’t look like the sort who would take no for an answer.’

‘He’s not like that,’ Poppy said angrily. ‘Why does everyone have to judge people on outward appearances? Dennis is kind and generous.’

‘That’s a gorgeous gown. Did he buy that for you, by any chance?’

‘It was my birthday present.’

‘Then he’s generous to a fault.’ Making a moue, Jean put on her lipstick. ‘Just be careful, that’s all I’d say if I were your big sister.’

‘You’ve got him all wrong.’

‘I hope so, for your sake, but it’s obvious he’s got his eye on you, love. Things can get out of hand if you’re not careful. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

‘I’m not a kid any more, Jean. Dennis knows that I don’t want to get serious.’

‘Then we’ll say no more about it.’ Jean turned away from the mirror, smiling. ‘I’ve missed you, Poppy. We all have.’

‘I’ve missed you too, and Squire’s Knapp, but I’m probably better suited to nursing than I was to work on the land.’

‘And is that what you want to do? Nursing, I mean.’

Poppy nodded emphatically. ‘I’m back where I belong. I was always an outsider as far as Mrs Carroll was concerned.’

‘Marina Carroll is a first class bitch, Poppy darling.
She’s
the worst kind of snob, but she’ll get her comeuppance one day, just you wait and see.’

Arm in arm, they returned to the restaurant to find couples dancing to the strains of ‘A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square’. Algy claimed Jean and guided her onto the dance floor, and Poppy returned to her table. Dennis’s chair was empty. She hesitated for a moment, looking around, but he was nowhere to be seen. He must, she thought, have taken the opportunity to freshen up and she was about to resume her seat when she saw Guy walking towards her. He held out his hand. ‘May I have this dance?’

Her feet barely touched the ground as he led her onto the dance floor and took her in his arms. ‘I’m afraid I’d forgotten it was your birthday, Poppy. I’m sorry.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she murmured, lowering her gaze as she concentrated on her steps. He whirled her round to the strains of the waltz, but his silence forced her to raise her eyes to his face. ‘Have I done something to offend you, Guy?’

‘Whatever gave you that idea?’

‘You’ve been treating me like a stranger. I thought you were my friend.’

His expression softened and this time the smile reached his eyes. ‘I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. I suppose I was shocked to see the change in you.’

‘Do I look so awful?’

‘You’re beautiful, but that dress isn’t you, Poppy.’

‘How can you say such a thing? It’s the latest fashion, and anyway what do you know about women’s clothes?’

‘Not much, I admit, but it makes you look like a little girl dressed up in her mother’s frock.’

Suddenly the lovely red dress seemed tawdry and cheap, but Poppy was not going to let him see how much his criticism hurt. ‘I’m not a schoolgirl now, Guy. I’m a first year probationer nurse and I’m going to make nursing my career. I can’t remain a kid just to please you.’

His breath caressed her cheek as they were caught up in the crush of the other dancers. ‘I know, but I miss the old Poppy: the little girl with the lost expression in her eyes who fainted every time she saw a horse.’

His words made her heart swell with joy but his initial cool reception still rankled and she could not bring herself to forgive him so easily. ‘I’ve grown up a lot since then.’

‘You’re still an innocent. You shouldn’t be out alone with that fellow. He’s too old for you.’

Poppy met his intense gaze with a defiant shake of her head. There was an edge to their conversation that was unexpected and strange. She had thought they would slip easily into their old companionable relationship, but something had changed and she was not sure what or why. ‘You’re wrong about Dennis.’

‘You don’t know what I’m thinking, unless of course you can read my mind.’

‘I know you well enough to tell when you disapprove of something or someone.’

‘He’s a type, Poppy. And I don’t like to see you with an older man who might take advantage of your youth and inexperience.’

‘That’s just not fair, Guy.’

‘What’s he been saying to you?’ Dennis tapped Guy on the shoulder. ‘The lady is with me, squire. In case you’ve forgotten.’

They were in the middle of the packed dance floor and had barely been moving. Guy stopped and turned his head to glare at Dennis. ‘This is my dance.’