Poppy's War (8 page)

When it came to Poppy’s turn, she stood up and began to read, but she was nervous and the words leapt about the page like a mass of squiggly tadpoles.

‘Speak up, Poppy,’ Miss Morris said sternly. ‘We all want to hear the story, but we can’t hear if you whisper.’

A snigger from Sid made Poppy even more determined to do her best. As she launched once again into the story she forgot that she was in a hostile environment. Ignoring the stares of the village children and the smirking face of Sid Guppy, she forgot that the room smelt of unwashed bodies and blackboard paint with overtones of dust and chalk. She became enthralled in the tale of pirates and buried treasure, and as she read the class quietened down and began to listen. Poppy was transported to
another
world and it was almost a shock when Miss Morris told her to stop.

‘Thank you, Poppy. That was very good indeed. You may sit down.’

Poppy sat down but an excruciating pain made her leap from her seat with a yelp of pain. Sid sniggered and a ripple of laughter ran through the class. Poppy found a drawing pin embedded in her right buttock and she wrenched it out, gritting her teeth and blinking hard in an effort not to cry.

‘Good heavens, girl. What’s the matter?’ Miss Morris hurried along the aisle between the desks. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I was stung, miss,’ Poppy said, clutching the drawing pin in her fisted hand.

‘It must have been a wasp. Children, you must be careful. Wasps get very sleepy at this time of year. Poppy, you’d better come into the kitchen and we’ll find something to put on it.’

Poppy followed Miss Morris into the tiny kitchen.

‘Now what is best?’ Miss Morris said, opening a cupboard and peering inside. ‘Vinegar or blue bag? It will have to be vinegar. Show me where it hurts.’

Amy was waiting at the school gate when Poppy flew out of the building ahead of the rest of the children. She had managed to kick Sid Guppy on the shins before he got the first punch in at break, and although she had been severely reprimanded Miss
Morris
seemed to have a fair idea who had started the fight.

Amy greeted her with a sweet smile. ‘How was your first day, Poppy?’

‘I’m never going back there.’ Crossing her fingers, Poppy hoped that Amy would not notice the ink-stain on the back of her blouse.

‘Oh, surely it can’t have been as bad as that?’

‘It was worse! I’d rather be bombed in West Ham than go back in there.’

Amy stood aside as a stream of children poured out of the school and raced off in different directions shouting and screeching as if they had just escaped from the zoo.

‘What happened to upset you so much?’

‘I can’t tell you.’

‘We’ll see about that. It’s my guess you’ve been bullied and I won’t stand for it.’ Taking Poppy by the hand Amy marched her back into the school. ‘Wait here by the coat racks. I’m going to sort this out once and for all.’

Poppy watched in amazement as sweet and gentle Amy turned into an avenging angel and stormed into the classroom, slamming the door behind her. Sid poked his head round the outer door and grinned at her. ‘I’ll get you tomorrow, Popeye. See if I don’t.’

‘Bugger off, Sid Guppy.’

His shocked face was reward enough for Poppy. He turned and fled as Amy and Miss Dobson
strolled
out of the classroom, smiling and obviously on good terms.

‘I don’t care what you say. I’m not coming back,’ Poppy said before either of them had a chance to speak.

Amy took her by the hand. ‘There’s no need to worry, Poppy dear. Miss Dobson and I have had a chat about you and we both agree that you’re in the wrong school. I’ll take you home now and tomorrow we’ll go and see the headmistress at the girls’ grammar school in Fairford.’

Sid was leaning against the wall outside the playground with his hands stuffed into his pockets, whistling tunelessly as he kicked windfall crab-apples through the school gate posts. Holding her head high, Poppy walked past without looking at him. She heard him mumble something under his breath, but a frown from Amy was enough to silence him and he ambled off towards the village.

Guy’s roadster was parked in the lane at an eccentric angle. ‘Hop in,’ Amy said, peering into her large brown suede handbag. ‘As soon as I’ve found the wretched car key we’ll be on our way.’

The golden September sun had warmed the leather seat, and Poppy settled down, waiting patiently while Amy fumbled in the bottom of her handbag.

‘Got it,’ Amy said, climbing in beside her and stowing her bag on the floor by Poppy’s feet. ‘I should either get a smaller handbag or stop putting
everything
in it but the kitchen sink.’ She slanted a mischievous smile at Poppy. ‘Hold on. I can’t promise to drive this thing as well as Guy, but I’ll do my best.’ She started the engine and after a few bunny hops they were speeding through the lanes, sending up clouds of dust and dry leaves. Poppy admired the way that Amy handled the car, but all the same she could not help wishing that it was Guy in the driving seat. She was immediately ashamed of herself for harbouring such mean thoughts when Amy had shown her nothing but kindness. Even so, she could not hold back the question that was tingling on the tip of her tongue. ‘Has Guy come home?’

‘No. He left the car so that I could have use of it while he was away in London.’

‘But he will come home soon?’

Amy was silent for a moment as she concentrated on the road ahead. She changed gear in order to negotiate a steep bend, and once they were back on the straight she glanced at Poppy with a smile. ‘If I tell you a secret, will you promise on your honour not to tell anyone else?’

‘Cross me heart and hope to die.’

‘Guy has gone up to London to enlist in the Royal Air Force. He doesn’t want Mr and Mrs Carroll to find out until it’s a fait accompli.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Guy will tell his parents when it’s too late for them to try to stop him. He’s had some flying
experience
at university, and he’s keen to join up.’

‘Hell’s bells and buckets of blood,’ Poppy said with feeling.

A gurgle of laughter escaped Amy’s lips. ‘It’s not considered polite for young girls to use that sort of language, Poppy. I don’t give a tuppenny damn, and don’t repeat that either, but I’m afraid others might find it offensive.’

‘I’ll button me lip in future.’

Amy crunched the gears as they reached the crossroads and the engine stalled. ‘Bloody thing! One day I’ll get the hang of driving this beast, but don’t you dare tell Guy that I made a mess of driving his precious car.’

Poppy’s heart swelled with pride. She shared a secret with Amy, and, for the first time since she had arrived in Dorset, she felt a sense of near belonging.

The headmistress at Fairford Girls’ Grammar School was reluctant to consider taking Poppy as a pupil unless she passed the common entrance examination. Most of the conversation during her initial interview passed over Poppy’s head. She perched on her seat and whiled away the time looking round the oak-panelled study, which was lined with bookshelves and group photographs of past and present hockey teams. A glass-fronted cabinet was filled with silver cups, which was depressing as she was not very keen on sport. Amy’s voice never rose above a pleasant murmur but she countered every excuse
that
the headmistress put before her as skilfully as any lawyer. The conversation turned to talk about fees and Poppy, only half listening, thought she heard Amy promise to be responsible for the financial obligations, but the interview was suddenly over and the headmistress was shaking Amy’s hand. Poppy realised with something of a shock that she had been enrolled as a pupil at the posh girls’ grammar school.

Without giving her a chance to protest, Amy whisked her off to the school outfitters in Fairford and Poppy was kitted out with a navy blue gymslip, three white blouses, two navy blue cardigans, and several sets of underwear including hideous navy blue knickers with a pocket for a hanky. Who in their right minds would want to tuck their hanky in their bloomers, Poppy thought in amazement? She was still puzzling over that when she tried on a school blazer and a black barathea overcoat. Amy told the shop assistant to pack everything and have it taken to the car, which impressed Poppy no end, but she could not help worrying. This must be costing Amy a fortune. Her worst fears were realised as she peered over Amy’s shoulder as she was about to sign the bill.

‘That’s an awful lot of money.’

‘What’s the matter?’ Amy hesitated with her pen poised above the invoice book.

‘My mum and dad can’t afford all this stuff. I don’t think Dad earns that much in a week.’

Amy smiled. ‘You mustn’t worry about things like that. I can easily afford to treat you, and anyway this is wartime and we must all do our bit.’ She wrote her signature with a flourish. ‘Come along, Poppy. You need new shoes. You can’t go to school in sandals with the toes cut out.’

‘Mum does it with a razor blade,’ Poppy said, hurrying after her as Amy made her way out of the store. ‘It stops me toes from bending double inside the sandals and they do another season. Shoes cost money, a lot of it, and you’ve already spent a fortune on me.’

‘As I said, that’s not your problem, Poppy. I’m not letting you start school at a disadvantage.’

The next stop was the shoe shop, and by this time Poppy was past protesting. She sat in silence while her feet were measured and she was fitted with a pair of black lace-up shoes, plimsolls and hockey boots. She felt quite faint when the assistant handed the sales slip to Amy but, as in the other store, it appeared that Amy had something mysteriously called ‘an account’ and no money changed hands.

Poppy wished that Mum and Gran could see her now as she carried her parcels to the car. She promised herself that she would go to the nursery as soon as they arrived home. She would sit down to write a long reply to Mum’s letter, which had arrived that morning. She had read it and wept, even though Mum’s words had been encouraging and filled with the hope that they would be together again by
Christmas
. It was only a few months away, but that seemed like a lifetime to Poppy.

Poppy started at the prestigious girls’ school on the following Monday. The girls in her class were neither friendly nor unfriendly. She was the first evacuee to attend the school and the girls treated her with a certain amount of reticence, but at least no one attempted to bully her. She actually preferred to be left alone as she struggled to learn the rules and regulations. She threw herself into her studies with an enthusiasm that brought plaudits from her teachers, and her days drifted into a set routine.

Breakfast in the nursery was delivered by a silently resentful Violet. Poppy left the house alone and unnoticed as she began the long walk to the main road where she caught the bus to Fairford. She returned in the afternoon on the four o’clock bus, and after tea, also eaten in solitary state, she set about her homework, after which she was free to read or write long letters home.

Her residence in the house was barely acknowledged by Mr and Mrs Carroll, unless they happened to pass her on the stairs. Edwin always enquired solicitously about her schoolwork, and Marina spoke politely but always looked faintly surprised to see her, as if she had forgotten that Poppy was living in the same house. If it had not been for Amy’s faithful visits on Saturday afternoons, Poppy would have lived a monastic existence, suspended between the
two
worlds of upstairs and below stairs, and belonging to neither. Amy always came armed with a new letter from Guy which she read to Poppy as they ate lunch in the Cosy Corner Café in Fairford or took afternoon tea in Nan’s Pantry on the other side of the High Street. When she came to some passages, Amy would blush rosily and skip the next few lines, leaving Poppy in no doubt that these must be very personal and filled with love and kisses and all that stuff. If Amy had not been her friend, she would have been deeply jealous.

With Christmas not far off, Amy decided that Poppy should have some pocket money, something unheard of in the Brown family. Poppy had tried to refuse but Amy gave her a shilling every Saturday afternoon, telling her that it was hers to save or spend as she pleased. Poppy hoarded it faithfully, hiding the coins in the toe of an old sock under her mattress in the night nursery.

September quickly faded away into October. The days became shorter and the leaves were whipped off the trees by the boisterous south-westerly gales. The hedgerows grew bright with scarlet berries, and the newly ploughed fields stretched as far as Poppy’s eyes could see in a rolling patchwork of ribbed umber earth, tipped with white chalk where the subsoil pushed to the surface. The undulating countryside looked so peaceful from the bus as Poppy travelled to and from school that it was almost impossible to imagine that the country
was
at war. Mum’s letters were filled with hope that they might be together again very soon as the expected bombing of London had not occurred, and everyone said that the war would soon be over.

By the end of the first week in December Poppy had saved up the magnificent sum of twelve shillings, which she intended to spend on Christmas presents. She could barely control her excitement as she set off with Amy on their customary Saturday outing to Fairford. Amy left her in Woolworth’s while she visited the hairdressers in South Street, and Poppy spent a happy hour browsing amongst the counters heaped with exciting things. It was the first time she had ever had money to spend as she pleased, and she walked up and down the aisles, her feet echoing on the bare wooden boards, carefully working out how far her money would go. After much deliberation, she bought a white lace-trimmed hanky for Gran and a brooch in the shape of a flower for Mum; a woollen scarf each for Dad and Grandad and a pair of gloves for Joe. She selected a string of pearl beads for Mabel and a book of nursery rhymes for Rupert. Mr and Mrs Carroll obviously lacked for nothing, and she decided on a colour photograph of Durdle Door with a calendar suspended from it by two pieces of pink tape. For Amy she chose a blue chiffon headscarf, and for Guy she purchased a St Christopher medallion which claimed on the label to be
genuine nine carat gold-plated
. It took her last penny
to
buy it, but Poppy was so proud of her purchase that she ran all the way to the hairdressers and burst into the cubicle where Amy sat beneath the hairdryer reading a copy of
Modern Woman
.