The Poppy Factory (29 page)

The two of them laughed, apparently at some unspoken joke, then kissed each other on both cheeks in the usual way. She could hardly bear to look, but sensed that the kisses were especially tender and lingering. The woman was the last guest in the queue, so the reception line broke up and the pair of them walked together into the main part of the marquee. They seemed perfectly paired – both slim and long limbed, with the same skin tone and similarly fine facial features, high cheekbones and full lips. Hers were painted bright crimson.

Jess froze as he caught her eye and led his new friend towards her. ‘Jess, this is Nerissa. Nerissa, my girlfriend Jess,’ he shouted over the well-lubricated hubbub. She took the proffered hand and tried to smile. It was a limp, long-fingered handshake, as though its owner couldn’t really be bothered to make an impression.

‘Ahm soo pleased to meet you,’ Nerissa drawled – an American, or perhaps Canadian accent? ‘Nathan and I go way back, don’t we?’ She put a hand up to his cheek in a shockingly intimate gesture which, to his credit, he seemed to find embarrassing. Or was it a flush of excitement that glowed beneath his skin?

‘And did you know Nate was going to be here?’ Jess could hear the sharp edge in her voice, and hoped he would notice it too, to understand how painful this meeting was for her.

‘Nope, no idea,’ Nerissa said. ‘It’s just a wunnerful surprise, isn’t it, Nathan?’

‘We met in Australia when I was travelling,’ he said, apparently completely unaware of Jess’s discomfort. ‘We were at a gig together – Nerissa’s a great singer.’

‘Drinks anyone?’ Jess hailed a passing waiter, helped herself to a glass of champagne and took a slug that half emptied it.

‘Melbourne, wasn’t it? That awful dive in Brunswick Street? That terrible band?’ They giggled conspiratorially at the mutual memories. ‘Who’d have thought I’d meet you here, Nathan, all dressed up in your penguin suit?’

‘And how do you know Barnie and Anna?’ Jess asked, finishing off her drink, replacing the empty glass and taking a full one. Nate would be glaring at her, she knew, but she chose not to look at him.

‘Oh, I’ve known Anna for years.’ Nerissa waved her elegant hand airily. ‘We’ve worked on dozens of shoots together in New York. She’s such a pro.’

‘And you had no idea Anna was marrying Nate’s best friend?’ Jess asked. ‘That Nate was going to be best man at her wedding?’

‘Nope. Like I said, it’s a complete coincidence.’

Coincidence? She meets Nate in Australia, and Anna in New York? Then she turns up here and Nate knows nothing about it. I don’t think so, Jess thought.

‘You’re a
model
now?’ Nate asked. ‘Is there no end to your talents?’ The look of naked admiration on his face was almost too much to bear.

‘Yeah. Got scouted when I got back to New York. Been doing it ever since. It’s a boring existence, but you get to travel, and if one wants to live in Manhattan one has to pay the rent somehow, if you know what I mean?’

‘But you have such a great voice.’ He turned to Jess. ‘You should hear Nissa singing the blues. It’s enough to send shivers down your spine.’

Nissa indeed. Pet names now. This was purgatory. How long would it be before they served the wedding breakfast, so they could get away from this woman?

A few moments later the bell sounded, and she and Nate were ushered to the long top table on a raised daïs at one end of the marquee. The settings were laid only along one side, with Jess at the very end, next to Nate. On his other side was Barnie’s mother, and he spent what seemed like ages talking to her, leaving Jess feeling like a lemon, or was it a gooseberry? Some sour kind of fruit anyway – that was certainly how she felt. She accepted the wine poured by the waiter and stared out across the guests taking their seats at the round tables below, wishing she could be among them. No, what she actually wished was that she could run away from this whole terrible affair, taking Nate with her, back to the safety of his flat.

She downed her glass and felt the alcohol doing its work, easing the edges of her anxiety. In the distance she could see the crimson feathers in Nerissa’s hair fluttering like a flag, noticed the curious and admiring glances of her table companions, watched them turn to engage her in conversation and saw how she instantly became their centre of attention.

At last Nate turned to her. ‘Are you okay?’ She nodded, unable to find the right words. Was he blind? Could he not see how miserable she was? ‘Watch the booze, Jess. Please?’

‘Oh for Christ’s sake, it’s a wedding,’ she said, allowing the waiter to refill her glass.

‘Why do you always do this?’ The staccato whisper sounded like distant machine-gun fire.

‘Do what?’ She felt the anger rising and was about to snap back but, with great force of will, managed to stop herself. The last thing she wanted was a row, there on the top table, in view of the assembled guests.

‘You know perfectly well what I mean. Just stop drinking, please? And try not to embarrass me. I’ve got to concentrate on my speech.’

Just then, a waiter arrived at her elbow, offering a plate of food. It looked delicious but, to Jess, tasted like cardboard. She drank steadily throughout the meal and tried to avoid looking in Nerissa’s direction, but bitter jealousy tainted every mouthful. Her head was spinning now, and she was desperate for fresh air.

She rose to her feet, just a little unsteadily. ‘Going to the loo,’ she whispered to Nate.

‘The speeches are about to start. Can’t you wait till afterwards?’

‘Won’t be long. Promise.’

Negotiating the steps down from the daïs was tricky with no handrail; she tripped and nearly knocked over an elaborate flower arrangement but managed to get down without further mishap and threaded her way between the tables, stepping carefully over the lumpy sisal floor covering. She’d almost reached the safety of the marquee entrance when a particularly uneven spot caught her heel and, failing to steady herself on the shoulder of a nearby guest, she fell headlong into an ungainly heap.

At that very moment there was a tinkling of cutlery on glasses, and the marquee hushed. Anna’s father was on his feet, about to speak, but his eye was caught by the kerfuffle near the doorway, and everyone else turned to watch as people tried to help Jess to her feet. She seemed to have knocked her head on the way down, her knees were grazed and her tights shredded. ‘Sorry, so sorry, I’m fine, really, please don’t worry,’ she heard her own voice loudly in the silence. A hundred stares felt like darts piercing her skin.

‘Need to go to the toilet,’ she whispered, shaking off a woman’s attempts to make her sit down and take a glass of water. All she could think about was getting away, to avoid drawing even more attention to herself, just before Nate’s big moment.

Finally she managed to make it outside and, taking gulps of fresh air, slipped off her heels and set a meandering course across the lawn to the house. There were portaloos behind the marquee, but she didn’t really need the toilet. What she really wanted was to sit down for a few minutes, alone, to regain her composure, change her tights and sober up. Then she would return to the reception and perhaps be able to pretend that nothing had happened. She made her way up the stairs in the deserted house, and along the corridor to the very yellow room.

‘What the fuck, Jess? I looked everywhere for you. What the hell are you doing?’

Nate’s shout startled her from the depths of sleep, and for a second or two she wondered where she was. As she opened her eyes and saw his furious face peering down at her, she caught sight of the white tie and penguin suit. It all flooded horribly back: the wedding reception, that bloody Nerissa woman, that ungainly fall.

‘Fell and knocked my head,’ she mumbled. ‘Needed to lie down.’

‘You got drunk and made a spectacle of yourself,’ he said, coldly. ‘You promised me you wouldn’t, and then you go and drink like a bloody fish, even after I warned you. Why, Jess, why?’ His face was flushed, his body like a coiled spring, and he emphasised every word with the shake of a clenched fist.

Shocked by his aggressiveness, Jess decided that attack was the best form of defence. She swung her legs around and sat up, ignoring the throbbing head and a throat like sandpaper. ‘Why’d you lie about that woman, Nate?’ Her tongue felt too big for her mouth and the words came out garbled.

‘What woman?’

‘Your long lost friend, Nerissa. Sorry, “Nissa”. ‘Mazing blues singer turned model who juss
happened
to be here. What an
amazing
coincidence.’

‘What the hell are you getting at, Jess?’ The anger was burning in his face.

‘What the hell’re
you
playing at, Nate? Beautiful woman walks in … turns out to be your long lost friend … ’scuse me, long lost
girlfriend
… and iss all a big surprise.’

He slumped into an armchair by the window and gave a resigned sigh. ‘She’s
not
a girlfriend, for heaven’s sake. We only met a few times, just as I said, and neither of us knew we’d both be here today. It was a complete surprise.’

‘’Spect me to believe that? You met in Australia ’n she turns up here,’ Jess slurred. ‘Thass a mighty big coincidence. You obviously fancy her like hell, anyone can see that juss by looking at you. What d’you ’spect me to do? Smile and simper and be on my best behaviour?’

His expression hardened. ‘I expect you to act like an
adult
, not a stupid jealous teenager. I expect you
not
to get drunk at every party,
not
to go blundering around putting your foot in it, falling over and making an idiot of yourself. I know you’ve had your issues after the tour, and I’ve tried my very best to be helpful and sympathetic. It’s over a year now since you got back and you don’t seem to be making any effort to sort them. I’m getting to the end of the road, Jess.’

‘So thass what you think of me, then? Stupid jealous teenager?’

‘That’s how you’re acting, right now. And to be honest, I don’t think I can take it any more.’

The blood seemed to congeal in her veins. This was, suddenly, very serious.

‘I thought we were all right, Nate?’ she pleaded. ‘Been having a really rough time, I tole you. It’ll get better soon.’

‘We tried that before and it didn’t work.’ He stood up, pulled his wallet from a pocket and took out a twenty pound note and her train ticket. ‘Look, I suggest you sober up, call a taxi and get yourself to the station.’

She heard his words with painful clarity. ‘You’re telling me to
leave
? Go back to London. Now? What about the wedding?’ Her heart was pounding in her ears as she willed herself not to cry.

He nodded and turned to the door. ‘Yup. Right now. I’ve had enough.’

‘Please, Nate …’ She tried to stand but lost her footing and lurched forward, catching herself on the chair. ‘Don’t go. We can sort it out. I love you …’

He opened the door and walked away. ‘Goodbye, Jess.’

In London, she jumped onto the last connecting train with seconds to spare, slumped into a seat and texted her mother: Can I come home this evening? I’ll catch a taxi. Leave out the key, please? Like an injured animal needing to hide away and lick its wounds, Suffolk was the only place she could bear to be.

It was past midnight when she arrived but Susan was there, in her dressing gown, to let her in. ‘Thanks so much for waiting up,’ she said, trying to avoid meeting her anxious eyes. ‘Talk tomorrow? I just need some time to myself right now.’

Sleep was impossible. She poured herself a glass of her father’s whisky but on top of her wedding hangover it tasted like acid. The enforced jollity of late-night chat shows on television made her feel even more desolate. There was nothing for it – she went upstairs to bed and began to unpack the small weekend case.

Then she found, still tucked in the side pocket, Rose’s last notebook.

BOOK SIX

Rose Barker - PRIVATE

Monday 10 July 1922

The Major came to our factory today for a pow-wow with Mr Mitchell and the upshot of it seems to be that we’ve offered to let the poppy lads use our canteen for their lunch and tea breaks, because there isn’t enough room on their side. Mr M gave us girls a lecture about how they will take their breaks at different times from ours and that we are
not
to fraternise. He’s afraid we may get distracted from our work.

The truth is that I am already distracted.

The blond-haired lad, Walter, seems to arrive at the same corner each morning, and insists on walking the last few hundred yards with me before we get to work. Not that I’m complaining, he always seems to cheer me up with some crazy story in the few minutes we spend together.

This morning he handed me a curious-looking cardboard cylinder with a lid on it. I really shouldn’t be seen accepting gifts from strange men but when he told me to pull the string for a ‘nice surprise’ I couldn’t resist the temptation.

Instantly, the cover flipped back like a jack-in-the-box, and up popped a green stem with a bright red poppy on top, and leaves sprouting out from the sides. Of course I shrieked with astonishment and then laughed out loud, and he chuckled along with me.

I asked him wherever did he get it, thinking how Johnnie would absolutely love the surprise, too. He looked down modestly and said he’d made it himself. ‘It’s just a bit of fun. The Major let me have some of the poppy fabrics and I thought you needed a bit of cheering up.’

It’s such a clever thing, I said, he could go into business making them. And I thanked him for making me smile. How did he know I was feeling a bit glum these days? Was it really showing on my face?

We’d reached the factory door by now and I didn’t want to be seen lingering outside with him so I went to give the poppy back, but he refused. ‘It’s for you, Rose,’ he said, ‘to remember me by.’ And he disappeared inside with that naughty smile on his face. I showed it to the girls at tea break and they all loved it.

Maisie said I ought to watch out for ‘that one’ because he was such a flirt, always asking girls to the Palais. Not that he’d ever ask me – he must have seen my ring and know that I’m a married woman – but there’s a little bit of me that can’t help wishing he would, and that I was free to go dancing with him. In August the factory will close for the annual fortnight’s holidays, and all I can think of is that I’ll miss seeing him every morning. I really shouldn’t, but he makes me laugh and I can’t resist him.