Poppy (5 page)

‘I’m surprised no one else heard it,’ Freddie went on. ‘As it was, I was out there in the garden on my own.’ He paused, then added, ‘All alone – apart from the beautiful and mysterious lady of the lake.’

His mother gave a peal of laughter. ‘Freddie, you are too ridiculous!’

Freddie’s eyes flickered up and locked briefly with Poppy’s. ‘What strange times we live in,’ he murmured.

Chapter Five

The Spinney,

Mayfield

5th April 1915

My dearest girl,

Many thanks for your letter. I write with news of your brother, who has at last stirred himself to answer Kitchener’s call. You may have heard of the Old Pals units which have been formed to enable lads from the same area to join up and fight together. Well, Billy has enlisted with a dozen of his pals from the football club. Between you and me, he could do little else after repeated enquiries from all and sundry as to what he was doing to help us win the war! He has gone for training in Watford, and will come back here for a couple of days before being posted. I will let you know any news. I am worried for him, of course, but rather proud that he is prepared to fight for our country in her hour of need.

What an exciting trip you had to London to meet Miss Luttrell – and how generous of her to offer to make you an allowance if you become a VAD. I’d be so proud if you decided to do this! I am proud of you anyway, dearest child, so don’t let me influence your decision. Whatever
you
think is best will be right.

Everyone wants to do their bit for their country now. At the factory we used to make cardboard boxes for tinned food, now we are making boxes for munitions. As I fold and seal them I think to myself that a Tommy in some foreign field will be handling this box soon. I am tempted to pop in an encouraging note or one of my homemade toffees!

Jane and Mary join me in sending all our best love and wishes for you to keep safe. Do let me know what you decide. On the back of this letter is Billy’s address – I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.

Your loving mother

Poppy received the letter just before the servants got an unexpected summons to attend Mrs de Vere in the green drawing room and, thrilled that her brother had joined up, thought afterwards that it probably made some difference as to what she decided to do.

There were nine servants working at Airey House. Some years back, when both young ladies had been at home, there had been twenty-two, including a tutor and governess, but thirteen had now either gone off to fight or were doing war-related work. Those who remained had their own ideas about why they might have been called in to see Mrs de Vere, and expounded these as they went up the back stairs to the drawing room.

‘We’re going to have to put more hours in,’ Joy, Mrs de Vere’s personal maid, said. ‘We’ve got half the number of servants here that we had two years ago so I reckon we’re going to be asked to do two jobs!’

‘No, I reckon they’re going to reduce our pay and say it’s to help the war effort,’ said one of the valets. ‘And then what they save will go in Old Man de Vere’s back pocket.’

‘Bet they shut up half the house and send most of us packing,’ another said.

‘I hope they don’t stop us from having a bath on a Friday night!’ said Poppy.

Outside the green drawing room, Cook and Joy jostled a little for position and then, in the absence of either butler or housekeeper, Cook knocked and was first through the door.

‘I expect you’re all terribly worried about your positions here,’ Mrs de Vere began.

The more loyal of the servants said that they were and tried to look anxious, although the truth was that they were not too worried about losing their places because of the money that could be earned from other sorts of employment now.

‘And I’m afraid I have to confirm your worst fears by saying that, sadly, Mr de Vere and I will not be needing many of you for very much longer. We’re moving to our much smaller country house in Somerset. Here we’ll be well away from the firing line, and be able to manage with minimum staff.’

Poppy waited, wondering if she was going to be part of that minimum staff. Surely Mrs de Vere would need a parlourmaid? On the other hand, now that even Billy had at last heard the call of his country, shouldn’t she up and leave too?

‘Begging your pardon, but when will you be going, ma’am?’ asked Cook. ‘Only, I’ve just ordered a jointed pig from the butcher to put in the ice house.’

‘We’ll be going as soon as we can get packed up – I hope by the end of May,’ Mrs de Vere said. ‘And I’m very pleased to tell you that this house will be taken over for the duration of the war as a cottage hospital for injured army officers.’ She gave a faint smile. ‘There’s no ice house in our Somerset home, so we’ll leave the officers the jointed pig with our compliments.’

The servants exchanged glances.

‘That’s me for bomb-making then,’ Molly whispered to Poppy. ‘I’ll be helping the war effort
and
helping double my pay.’

Mrs de Vere went on, ‘We will need a small core of staff, so I should like to retain Cook, my own maid Joy, and Poppy. Mr de Vere will still want George, of course – he still needs a valet.’

Poppy’s heart gave a little jolt. She’d been half hoping that Mrs de Vere would say she didn’t need any of her Mayfield staff, then the decision about whether to apply for work as a VAD would have been made easier.

‘If Cook, Joy and Poppy would stay behind for a moment, the rest of you can resume your duties until the end of the month,’ Mrs de Vere said. ‘You’ve all been most diligent and hard-working, and I shall be delighted to supply you with whatever references you require to obtain new positions.’

‘I trust you’ll be happy with me in the country, Poppy,’ said Mrs de Vere, when the unwanted servants had left, muttering to themselves.

‘Thank you, madam,’ Poppy said uncertainly.

‘As your duties will be a little more diverse, there may be an increase in your wage packet after a few months.’ Mrs de Vere got up, walked to the window and scanned the skies. ‘It’s very quiet in Somerset, and we shall be able to keep out of the worst of the war. No Zeppelins there, at least!’

‘No. Thank you, madam,’ Poppy said. Then, rather unexpectedly, she found herself adding, ‘But, do excuse me, unfortunately I won’t be able to join you.’

‘
What?
’ Mrs de Vere turned, shocked. ‘Why ever not?’

Poppy’s heart was beating fast; she found herself almost as startled as Mrs de Vere. ‘Because I’ve decided to take a voluntary position with the Red Cross.’

‘Really?’ Mrs de Vere said in astonishment. Cook and Joy turned to stare at her.

Poppy nodded. ‘I hope to be trained in first aid and nursing.’

‘I see. You’ve obviously looked into it.’

‘Not really. I haven’t even applied yet. It’s just . . . I think I ought to do something to help the war effort.’

Mrs de Vere was not able to make the slightest objection to this. ‘Very well,’ she said, at last. ‘I’ll be sorry to lose you, Poppy, but you must do what you think right. If you wish to, you may stay on at Airey House while you make the necessary arrangements.’

‘Thank you, madam.’

Poppy left the room and, feeling an urgent need to catch her breath, sat down on the back stairs for a moment and counted to ten very slowly. She was going to start something new and completely unknown. Once she’d left Airey House she might never see it or its occupants ever again. Any of them. Not even Freddie de Vere.

She counted ten deep breaths, allowing her thoughts to drift and settle. Leaving Airey House was the best thing she could do in so many ways, she told herself. She would be helping the war – and she would also be getting away from the absurd, dangerous, completely foolish way in which she had begun to regard Freddie de Vere.

‘The bluebells are out in the woods,’ Freddie said the next morning, catching Poppy on her own as she cleared away the breakfast things. ‘Acres of them. I suppose you couldn’t come for a . . .’

Shocked and pleased in equal measure, Poppy quickly shook her head. ‘No, I couldn’t possibly!’

‘Unless you . . .’

But Mrs de Vere reappeared from the next room and Freddie went quiet while Poppy, blushing furiously, carried on clearing the table. No more was said, but that evening, on going to bed, she found a jam jar stuffed with bluebells outside her door.

Airey House

Mayfield

Herts

18th April 1915

Dear Miss Luttrell,

You’ll be happy to hear that I’ve decided to take your advice about becoming a VAD and am writing to the address you gave me in London to request an interview. As you kindly suggested, I will give them your name as a referee, and Mrs de Vere said she would also supply me with a reference. The de Vere family have announced they are to leave Mayfield to live in Somerset for the duration of the war, so it has all worked out very well. Airey House is to become a hospital and convalescent home for officers.

I do hope I give a good interview at Devonshire House. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything from them. I’m rather nervous and not at all sure that I’ll be brave enough to face up to all the horrid things I might see, but I have been telling myself that if our boys are courageous enough to fight, then surely I ought to be courageous enough to care for them afterwards.

I did send (anonymously!) the white feather to the younger son, Freddie, and though it caused him acute embarrassment it hasn’t made him join up. I’ve noticed him wearing a triangular brass badge lately – Cook says this is to show he is in a reserved occupation in case anyone tries to give him another feather.

With love and grateful thanks,

Poppy

It took several weeks for the interview to be arranged at Devonshire House and Poppy carried on working for the de Veres during this time. She wondered if someone might have told Freddie she was leaving, but didn’t know for sure. The move to Somerset was taking longer than anyone had anticipated, with much furniture going into storage and members of the family travelling backwards and forwards to the country to take precious or delicate objects that couldn’t be trusted to the removal men (or, a wartime novelty, removal
women
). Occasionally Poppy’s path would cross with Freddie’s, but they were never alone together and Poppy was beginning to think that she had imagined the night-time liaison on the lawn. When she thought that, she would smile wryly, for it had hardly been a
liaison
at all – they’d merely exchanged a couple of glances and almost held hands. Besides, he had an elegant, accomplished and beautiful young lady in his life. Who in their right mind would prefer a parlourmaid to the glowing Miss Cardew?

Poppy’s preparations for her interview included looking through the book on home nursing that was kept in Cook’s parlour, and reading the minute instructions on the bandages and antiseptic creams in the first-aid box. Unfortunately the nursing book was mainly about pregnancy and childbirth, so wasn’t very useful, but she learned a little about pressure points and the importance of cleanliness from the instructions on the packets of bandages.

This scant knowledge did not give her much confidence, and by the time she got off the train at Euston and caught a bus towards Piccadilly Circus, she felt quite hollow with nerves. Twenty minutes later, wishing herself anywhere but there, she found herself going through the black and gold wrought-iron gates at Devonshire House.

There were two middle-aged matrons interviewing potential trainees for Voluntary Aid Detachments and they seemed nice enough. They were brisk and businesslike, however, and when Poppy tried to make the smallest of light-hearted remarks about the awfulness of London traffic, they did not respond.

They wanted to know about Poppy’s background and she told them that she’d been head girl and then won a college scholarship, but had been unable to take it up.

‘Since leaving school I’ve been working for the de Vere family,’ she explained. ‘First in the kitchens and most lately as a parlourmaid.’

‘Ah yes, the de Veres,’ said the smaller, bird-like matron, as if she knew them.

‘But
in service
,’ said the other doubtfully.

‘I expect that means you’re probably very good at taking orders,’ said her colleague.

Poppy nodded emphatically. ‘Yes, I am.’

‘But how do you intend to maintain yourself?’ the first asked. ‘You must be aware that the positions are voluntary.’

Poppy explained about her old schoolteacher’s generous offer. They nodded and exchanged a word or two between themselves, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying.

‘And, Miss Pearson, what are your people doing to help the war effort?’ the smaller matron asked.

Poppy was relieved that she could give the right answers. ‘My father’s dead, but my brother has recently begun training with a local division of the army and my mother works in a factory at night, making munition boxes.’