Poppy's War (7 page)

‘You all know that I’ve just come home from Switzerland,’ Amy said in a voice that shook with emotion. ‘I went into the sanatorium a year ago and I was alone, away from those I love. Mummy and Daddy were away in Singapore and Aunt Jane was too old and crippled with arthritis to cope with travelling all that way to visit me. I was scared stiff, just as this child must be now. I was amongst strangers and I hardly spoke any French and no German at all because I was a complete duffer at school.’

‘That was quite different, Amy,’ Marina said, raising her voice to make herself heard above the sympathetic murmurs. ‘You were ill and you were there to be cured.’

Edwin frowned at her over the top of his spectacles. ‘Let Amy finish, my dear.’

‘Go on,’ Guy said with an encouraging smile. ‘You’re doing splendidly, darling.’

Amy took a deep breath. ‘I think all that Poppy needs is someone to spend a little time with her. I had to learn the rules and regulations in the sanatorium and it made things easier when I had grasped a little of their language. I think it’s terribly unfair to take a child out of her own environment and expect her to fit in immediately.’

‘Well said, Amy.’ Guy took her hand and raised it to his lips.

Pamela bent down to snatch Rupert up in her arms as if he were in imminent danger. ‘I don’t trust her to look after Baby.’

‘She’s only a child herself,’ Amy said angrily.

‘She’s a wildcat,’ Pamela argued. ‘If she’s prepared to push Violet down the stairs who knows what she might do to my son?’

‘Absolutely,’ Hector said, ruffling Rupert’s hair in an absent-minded way. ‘Can’t be too careful when there’s a little one involved.’

‘I think you’re being very unfair,’ Amy protested. ‘I feel very sorry for Poppy.’

Marina reached for her glass and put it to her lips. ‘So may I take it that you are offering to tame the wild beast?’ She drained the glass and held it out to her husband. ‘I’ll have another, Edwin. I can feel one of my heads coming on.’

Obediently, as if he had been trained to obey the slightest command, he poured her another drink and placed it in her hand. He turned to Amy with a worried frown. ‘My dear girl, are you willing to give
up
your time and spend it with one young evacuee when there are so many more important things to do now?’

‘You are supposed to be resting, sweetheart,’ Guy added gently.

‘I haven’t forgotten, but if Poppy is prepared to let me help her, I’ll be glad to spend some time with her.’

‘Do you hear that, Poppy?’ Edwin said sternly. ‘Will you be guided by Amy and do just as she tells you?’

‘I’ll do anything she says, sir. She looks like an angel.’

‘She is an angel, kid,’ Guy said, smiling. ‘And if you play her up or tire her out you’ll have me to answer to.’

The awkward silence that followed was broken by a squawk of protest from Rupert who began to wriggle violently in his mother’s arms. ‘I’m taking Rupert back to London with me,’ Pamela said, setting him down on the carpet. ‘I’ve changed my mind about leaving him here. I’d sooner risk the bombs, Mummy.’

‘Quite right, my dear,’ Hector said, eyeing his son, who was trying to climb up his pinstripe trouser leg. ‘Perhaps someone should ring for Violet to take him back to the nursery. Has the boy been fed?’

‘He’s eating with us, darling. It’s Sunday.’ Pamela tucked her hand in the crook of Hector’s arm. ‘And Rupert hasn’t seen his father for almost a fortnight.’

Olive poked her head round the door, peering in nervously as if she expected to find that the invasion had begun and the room was filled with German soldiers. ‘Luncheon is served, ma’am.’ She retreated hastily, closing the door behind her with a dull thud.

‘You’d better return to the nursery, Poppy,’ Marina said, rising from her chair. ‘Violet will bring you your lunch on a tray.’

Poppy made a move to leave but Amy had her firmly by the hand. ‘If you wouldn’t mind too much, Mrs Carroll, I think it would be a nice gesture to allow Poppy to eat lunch with us today.’

Marina looked as if she was about to argue, but Guy forestalled her. ‘It’s not every day we declare war on Germany, Mother. I’m sure that the kitchen is in such an uproar that the poor child wouldn’t get fed if she had to rely on Violet.’

‘The damned Germans have a lot to answer for already,’ Marina said bitterly. ‘Come along, Edwin. The rest of you can do what you like.’ She stalked out of the room followed by her husband.

The rest of the family filed out of the drawing room in a respectful crocodile, which reminded Poppy of the animals going into the ark two by two. She was considering this when Amy took her by the hand.

‘Come along, Poppy. You shall sit next to me.’

‘Thank you, miss.’

‘You call me either Amy or Miss Fenton-Jones, but as I call you Poppy, which is a very pretty name
by
the way, I think it only fair you should call me Amy.’

Poppy felt oppressed by the Carrolls’ formal dining room. The vast mahogany table seemed to stretch into eternity. The cutlery was confusing and she watched Amy carefully to see which spoon she used for the soup and which knife and fork was right for the fish course. By the time the roast lamb was served, accompanied by an astonishing array of vegetables, Poppy was feeling more at ease, although she had never seen anything as grand as the feast set before her. She memorised each small detail, from the cut crystal wine glasses which she was not allowed to use, and had to make do with a beaker of water, to the delicately patterned bone china dinner service, which must have cost an arm and a leg. She would write about it in her next letter to Mum and Gran.

After lunch Poppy would have been quite glad to slink away to the nursery but Amy insisted that they go for a walk as the doctors had stressed that she needed plenty of fresh air and exercise. Poppy plucked up courage to ask if they could post her letter and Amy not only agreed wholeheartedly but also persuaded Mr Carroll to donate a postage stamp. Amy and Guy walked hand in hand with Poppy following a discreet distance behind them, clutching the envelope in her hand. She could not hear what they were saying to each other but it was obvious that they were stepping out together in the
same
way as Joe and Mabel. By the time they reached the post box in the village Amy was breathless and had to sit down on the nearest wall.

‘You’ve overdone things,’ Guy said anxiously. ‘We shouldn’t have walked so far.’

‘Nonsense, Guy. I’m perfectly well. It’s just a little stitch.’

He took her slender wrist in his hand and consulted his watch. ‘Your pulse is racing.’

‘Oh, so you’re a qualified doctor now, are you, Guy?’

‘Not for another two years, but I can tell a racing pulse when I feel one.’

Poppy gazed up at him lost in admiration, but his attention was focused on Amy. She did look very pale and Poppy wondered if she was going to faint. ‘My gran sniffs smelling salts when she has a funny turn.’

Amy smiled and squeezed her hand. ‘Thank you, but I’m quite all right, really.’

‘We’ll get you home at once.’ Without a by your leave, Guy swung her effortlessly into his arms, and despite Amy’s protests he strode off down the lane with Poppy hurrying along at his side. It was like something out of a film, she thought, quickening her pace in order to keep up with him. He was Errol Flynn carrying Maid Marian into Sherwood Forest. Poppy stole a sideways glance at his determined profile. I wouldn’t make a fuss like Amy, she thought enviously, but Amy looked far from happy.

‘Put me down, please, Guy. I’m fine, honestly.’

‘You’re not fine and this is good for improving my biceps, which I need if I’m going to be selected for the hospital rowing eight. Keep up, Poppy. We don’t want to have to come back to find you.’

Amy laced her fingers together behind Guy’s neck. ‘I didn’t know you liked rowing, Guy. I’ve missed so much this last year, and you’re a terrible correspondent.’

‘And you may look as if a puff of wind would carry you away, Amy, but you’re quite a weight, my girl.’

Poppy jogged along at his side, wishing that she was fair and lovely like Amy, instead of being sallow-skinned and dark-haired. She made a firm decision to include Amy in her prayers that night, along with Mum, Dad, Joe, Grandad, Gran and little Rupert. She was still burning with shame that the family thought she was unfit to look after him. She would miss his small body cuddling up to her in bed at night.

When they arrived back at the house Poppy was dismayed to see Miss Pamela standing by their car with Rupert clutched in her arms, while Jackson loaded luggage into the boot. Rupert chortled with delight when he spotted her and began to struggle but his mother gave him a sharp reprimand and he started to cry. Poppy longed to rush over and comfort him, but she did not dare.

Guy set Amy down at the bottom of the stone
steps
leading up to the main entrance. ‘I’d better drive you home, Amy.’

She reached up and kissed him lightly on his cheek. ‘Not yet, Guy. I’m going to see that Poppy is settled in the nursery, and I’ll have a word with Cook to make sure she gets some tea or otherwise I’m afraid they’re in such turmoil below stairs that they may forget all about her.’

‘Tell Mrs Toon she’ll have me to deal with if anyone takes it out on Poppy. I’ll just go and say cheerio to Pam and Hector.’ He strolled off in the direction of the Pallisters’ car leaving Amy and Poppy to negotiate the steps.

Inside the entrance hall, Poppy stopped at the foot of the stairs. ‘You shouldn’t walk up all them stairs if you’re tired, miss – I mean Amy. I know the way now, ta.’

‘You’re a sweet girl, Poppy. I am a bit tired but I wouldn’t admit it to Guy. He worries about me.’

With one foot on the bottom tread, Poppy hesitated, turning to Amy. ‘You won’t forget about me, will you?’

‘Don’t worry about anything. I’m going to speak to Mrs Toon now, and tomorrow morning I’ll be here bright and early to take you to school. You’ll soon settle in, and you’ll feel happier when you’ve got some friends of your own age.’

‘Will Guy come too?’

‘No, I’m afraid not. He’s going to London tonight and he may not be back for quite a while.’

Chapter Four

THE HEADMISTRESS OF
the village school greeted Amy and Poppy with an air of tired resignation. ‘I don’t know how we’ll cope, Miss Fenton-Jones. We’re terribly overcrowded, and with more evacuee children expected. I think we’ll have to work out some sort of shift system for teaching.’

‘Poppy’s had a particularly difficult time, Miss Dobson. She needs friends of her own age.’

‘Well, I’m not sure that’s going to happen. You haven’t seen the rest of my new pupils.’ Miss Dobson eyed Poppy as if she were about to bite a chunk from her plump leg. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. Most of them are vermin-ridden and I doubt if half of them are literate, let alone toilet-trained. I just don’t know how we’ll cope.’

‘I’m certain you’ll manage splendidly, but I’d be most grateful if you could keep an eye on Poppy. If anything goes wrong this is my phone number at home. I don’t want Mrs Carroll to be troubled unnecessarily.’ Amy scribbled something on a page torn from her diary and handed it to Miss Dobson, who was immediately called away by a summons from an apparently desperate younger teacher.

Amy gave Poppy a hug. ‘There are lots of children in the same situation as yourself, and I’m sure by the end of the day you’ll have made new friends.’

Poppy nodded dumbly and swallowed hard. There was a subdued but menacing babble of noise emanating from the classroom and she was not convinced, but she managed a weak smile and opened the door. Something flew past her head and as it hit the wall she realised that it was a pellet of blotting paper soaked in ink. It exploded in a blue-black starburst and slid down the brown paintwork to land in a dark puddle on the bare floorboards. As she stepped into the room she found her way barred by a boy with an unpleasant expression on his foxy face. ‘I know you,’ he said in a whisper. ‘You’re the kid what pushed Violet downstairs. Could’ve killed her.’

Poppy backed away and found herself pinned to the ink-covered wall. ‘It was an accident.’

‘Sid Guppy, I won’t tell you again. Sit down.’ There was a note of resignation in the young teacher’s voice.

‘Better watch out for me at break-time, Popeye,’ Sid hissed.

‘I won’t tell you again, Sid Guppy.’

‘Yes, Miss Morris.’ He slithered onto a seat, pulling a face at Poppy under cover of wiping his nose on his sleeve.

‘What’s your name?’ Miss Morris pointed a ruler
at
Poppy. ‘I’ve called the register and you don’t seem to be on it.’

‘Poppy Brown, miss.’

‘Sit down and I’ll take your details later. Now, children, Miss Dobson is going to divide you into groups according to age. Come to the front when your name is called.’ She handed the register to the headmistress.

To her dismay, Poppy found herself sharing a desk with Sid Guppy. She tried to protest but she found herself ignored by the hard-pressed teachers as they marshalled their classes together and herded the younger children into another room. Making her way to her seat Poppy was met by grinning faces and subdued sniggers.

Vera Brice, who had been in Poppy’s class at school, shot her a sympathetic glance. ‘Look at your back,’ she whispered. ‘You’ve got ink all over your blouse.’

Poppy acknowledged this piece of information, biting her lip. Mrs Carroll would kill her when she got home. The blouse had belonged to Miss Pamela and probably cost a small fortune.

‘Hurry up and sit down, Poppy. We’ll begin with reading.’

Poppy put as much distance between herself and Sid as was possible. She knew that he was laughing at her, but she refused to look at him.

Miss Morris placed a pile of books on the front desks, and they were passed backwards in an
orderly
fashion by the girls and a disorderly one by the boys, who earned a sharp rebuke. The story was
Treasure Island
and Poppy sighed with relief. She was more than familiar with the adventures of Jim Hawkins and Squire Trelawney. Here she was on familiar ground and she began to relax. The reading began with the front row and some of the children stuttered and stumbled over the words, mumbling tonelessly. Some of the evacuees could read well but there were some, including Colin, who found it almost impossible. He had to be taken to the boys’ toilets by one of the older girls when he suffered yet another little accident.