The Songbird (11 page)

‘Poppy!' Tommy turned to her. ‘You mustn't talk like that. If you're at all worried about Albert, I'll tell Pa if you daren't, or are embarrassed about it.'

‘It's not that I daren't,' she asserted. ‘But if Albert leaves, then Lena will go as well, and Pa says he needs her; though I'm sure there are plenty of other women could do the baking just as well as her.' She scowled. ‘She's wheedling herself into his life. Or trying to.' And if she does, she thought, then I shall run away. I shan't stay, whether Pa wants me to or not.

Tommy was only seventeen and had little experience of young women. He thought of Poppy only as his little sister, and as she had always been merry and adventurous, singing songs and telling tales, he didn't attach too much credence to what she was saying about Albert. They both disliked him, it was true, but surely he would never take advantage of her, not here under their father's roof? He didn't want to think about it. The idea made his skin creep, but also he wanted to go away with a clear conscience. He didn't want to be worrying whether or not Poppy would be all right.

‘Pa wouldn't look at another woman,' he said, pushing clothes into his bag. ‘Not after Ma. You're exaggerating, as usual.'

‘Why are you packing now?' Poppy ignored what he was saying. ‘You said you haven't been taken on yet.'

‘Just in case,' Tommy said. ‘I need to be prepared to say I can leave immediately. There.' He fastened up the bag. ‘I shan't need to take as much as Charlie will when he goes on Saturday.'

‘On Saturday?' Poppy took a breath. ‘Which Saturday?'

‘Day after tomorrow,' he replied casually, disturbed by her stricken face. ‘Thought you knew.'

‘I didn't know it was to be so soon,' she said huskily and swallowed hard. ‘Will he – will he come to say goodbye, do you think?'

Tommy glanced at her. She had gone quite pale. ‘I don't know. Maybe. I'll drop round later to tell him my news. I'll ask him to call, shall I? Tell him you'd like to see him before he leaves?'

‘Yes,' she gulped. ‘I mean, no. It doesn't matter. He'll be busy, I expect, getting packed and everything.'

They heard a banging on the stairs. It was Lena. ‘Is anybody there?' she shouted. ‘I could do with some help down here!'

Poppy opened the door and stared down at Lena. ‘I'm coming,' she muttered.

‘About time,' Lena grumbled. ‘I'm rushed off my feet in here.'

‘Where's Pa?' Poppy asked as she went downstairs. ‘I thought he was here.'

‘Had to go out,' Lena said abruptly.

Poppy greeted a woman who was waiting to be served, and asked Lena, ‘Where's Albert?'

‘Gone.' Lena put her hand out for money from a woman buying two ounces of tea and dropped it in the cash box. ‘He's a bit off colour, so I sent him home.'

‘Thank you, Mrs Jackson.' Poppy smiled at the woman she had served with flour and oats, as she left the shop. ‘See you again.'

‘You will, honey,' Mrs Jackson said. ‘It's good to see your pretty face.' She looked pointedly at Lena's severe expression. ‘Not everybody's able to raise a smile.'

Lena grunted as the customer went out. ‘It's all very well smiling when you've nothing else to do. You'll have to do more, young woman, when that brother of yours clears off on his ship.'

‘I didn't know that you knew.' Poppy was peeved to think that Lena had heard the news before her.

‘Your pa had to tell me, hadn't he? I shall be the one doing most of the work.' She looked at Poppy. ‘I'm to take on the baking, so that skivvy Nan will have to look to her laurels with the cleaning. I'll not have a dirty kitchen.'

‘It's not dirty!' Poppy objected. ‘It's cleaned every day.'

‘It might be clean enough for your brother and that Nan.' Lena looked scathingly at Poppy. ‘But not for me. I said to your father, if I'm to be in charge of the baking, then I'll have things done the way I like it.' Then she gave her a thin smile. ‘We'll get on well enough, I don't doubt, Poppy, as long as we understand each other. Especially when I move in; it'll be a lot easier then, won't it? I shall be on hand to organize everything.'

‘Move in? Move in where?' Poppy was flabbergasted.

‘Why, here, of course! I can't be expected to start so early if I'm not living in. I'll be using Tommy's room as he won't be needing it.'

Poppy stared open-mouthed. ‘Has Pa agreed to it? Did he say that you could?'

‘Well, I suggested it. It would make it easier all round, now wouldn't it? Course,' she sighed, ‘I realize there won't be room for Albert – not at the moment, anyway. But he can eat here with us and just go home to sleep.'

I can't believe what she's saying. Poppy licked her dry lips. How could Pa agree to it without discussing it with me?

More customers came in so there was no chance of further talk, but in any case she felt so sick and miserable that she couldn't have spoken of it. Tommy came through and said he was going out. He addressed himself to Poppy not Lena, and she guessed that he was going to see Charlie.

Her father came back and asked where Albert was. ‘I've sent him home, Josh,' Lena said, an anxious frown on her forehead. ‘He must have eaten something that's upset him.'

‘Huh,' Joshua said grumpily. ‘He never said anything to me. You wouldn't think to look at him that he'd a delicate constitution.' Poppy realized that Albert must have left after her father had gone out.

‘Oh, he hasn't,' Lena was quick to reply. ‘Constitution of an ox usually, but maybe he ate some bad meat or drank out of a dirty glass. He'll be back in the morning.'

That evening after they had locked up for the night, Poppy, Tommy and her father sat by the range in the kitchen. They rarely lit the fire in the parlour during the week for they hadn't time to sit in there, but the kitchen was cosy since the fire was always kept in to heat the ovens and for boiling the kettle or cooking meat and vegetables.

‘I've got 'job, Pa,' Tommy said quietly, although he couldn't keep the exultation out of his voice. ‘They said I can sail with them on Monday.' He glanced at Poppy for her reaction but she simply nodded her head.

‘Well, we'll see how you get on,' his father said. ‘I told you that if you don't like it, then you can come home again. There's always a place here for you.'

‘Except that Lena's having his room,' Poppy said bitterly. ‘Will she be willing to move out?'

Her father shifted uncomfortably. ‘I didn't say for sure that she can,' he said. ‘She suggested it as she'll have to be here early, and it sounded like a good idea. But I didn't agree for sure,' he repeated. ‘I said I'd give it some thought.'

‘My room!' Tommy said in astonishment. ‘That means I'll have to store my things somewhere! I don't want her poking about amongst them.'

‘I don't know what you two have got against Lena,' their father said sharply. ‘She works hard, she's willing to do all of 'baking and yet still you don't like her!'

‘What about Albert?' Tommy glanced anxiously at Poppy and then his father. ‘It won't do to have him here, not with – not with Poppy!'

‘I don't need you to remind me of what's right and what isn't!' Joshua said irritably. ‘Of course he won't stay. We haven't room for him for one thing. But I just said, nothing's been decided yet. We'll see how things work out.'

But Pa doesn't realize that Lena has already decided what she's going to do, Poppy thought as she rose to go up to bed.
She's
worked it out already.

‘Poppy!' Tommy whispered at her bedroom door later. ‘Charlie said he'll be on Monument Bridge tomorrow night at about eight o'clock, if you want to say cheerio. I told him you could probably get away about that time.'

‘I might,' she said casually, opening the door a crack. ‘I want to go and see Nan about something anyway, so I'll come back along there.'

That decided her. She would go and talk to Mattie before she went off to work. Nan was just an excuse.

‘Ah!' Tommy said, before she closed the door. ‘If you see Mattie, will you tell her I'm leaving? I, er . . . or I can tell Nan in 'morning, I suppose, when she comes in.'

‘You could tell Mattie yourself, of course,' Poppy gibed. ‘I expect you didn't think of that!' She closed her door.

The following evening she told her father she was going to see Nan. He no longer told her that she mustn't go into the High Street on her own. He simply warned her to be careful and be back before dark. She hoped she had timed it right to see Mattie and then be in time to meet Charlie. She was wearing one of her mother's cream skirts; it had a kick pleat on the hem, which tossed around her ankles as she walked, and she had teamed it with an emerald-green shirt tucked into the waistband.

‘You look lovely, Poppy,' Mattie said admiringly. ‘You going to meet somebody?'

‘I've come to see you, Mattie,' she hedged. ‘I want to discuss something.'

‘Shan't have to be long,' Mattie said. ‘I'm due at work in half an hour and I've got to get cleaned up. Still, if you don't mind me getting washed while you talk?'

‘No, of course not.' Poppy sat down, realizing that Mattie had only just come in from the flour mill. She worked long hours and she had flour on her face and hair as she had when Poppy had come the last time. ‘I want your advice.'

‘From me?' Mattie laughed, and started to strip off her shirt and skirt. She stood in her thin cotton shift, and Poppy thought that it was a pity they were not nearer in size, for she would have passed on some of her clothes. But Mattie, although no taller than her, had well-rounded breasts and hips, whereas Poppy was still slender.

‘Do you know that Tommy is going to sea?' she asked, as Mattie splashed cold water from a bucket over her face. ‘Pa said he could go if he wanted to. He's been taken on a ship that's leaving on Monday.'

Mattie turned to her, water running down her face and streaking the flour into runnels of white paste. ‘Tommy! No! I didn't know.' Her expression, usually so cheerful, was downcast. ‘On Monday?' She stood for a moment, her lips parted, and then she turned back to her ablutions, cupping water into her hands and splashing it over her face. When she looked up again, she had assumed her usual bright demeanour. ‘That's nice for him. It's what he wants to do, is it? Doesn't want to stay here in Hull?' She picked up a piece of cotton towelling and scrubbed her face dry. ‘It's not because Charlie's leaving, is it?'

‘I don't think so,' Poppy said miserably. ‘He's always wanted to go to sea and Charlie has always wanted to go to London. The thing is, Mattie . . .' She hesitated, wondering if she should say anything about herself after all. ‘I shall miss him.'

‘I expect you will,' Mattie said kindly. ‘So will I, as a matter of fact.'

‘Will you? Do you like him? Tommy, I mean?'

‘I thought that's who we were talking about.' Mattie frowned. ‘It is, isn't it?'

‘Oh, yes, of course I meant Tommy! Though I'll miss Charlie too,' she confessed. ‘He's going away on Saturday – tomorrow – and the thing is,' she repeated, ‘I'll be left on my own.'

‘You've got your pa!' Mattie said. ‘I know it's difficult for you without your ma, but your pa – well, he idolizes you, doesn't he? And you'll be busy, you'll be leaving school soon, and you've got your singing and dancing and you'll help in 'shop.'

Poppy nodded. The way Mattie put it, it sounded like an ideal life, and for Mattie it probably would be. But not for me, she thought. I have other ambitions, but I realize now that I can't tell Mattie. She'd only try to talk me out of them anyway.

‘I'd better go,' she said. ‘Thank you for listening to me, Mattie. I won't hold you up any longer.'

‘Is that it, then?' Mattie seemed surprised. ‘I don't seem to have done much.'

‘I just needed to talk, that's all.' Poppy forced herself to smile.

‘Any time.' Mattie slipped on another skirt and shirt, and reached for a hairbrush. ‘You can come and talk any time you want.'

Poppy walked back along the High Street and cut down Scale Lane. Charlie's father was seated in the window as usual, his back bent over his bench. She crossed Lowgate, avoiding the surge of carts and waggons, and as she passed down Silver Street she glanced at the display of gold and silver in the shop windows. In the fashion shops of Whitefriargate she looked at her reflection rather than the objects displayed. People were still shopping or strolling and the evening was pleasant and still light. Ahead of her was the Monument Bridge, crowded with people looking over into the water, but she couldn't yet see Charlie and she hoped that he hadn't forgotten that he'd said he would meet her.

Charlie stood beneath the Wilberforce monument, positioning himself so that he could look across towards Savile Street, in the direction from which he thought Poppy would come. He took a turn round the base of the monument, gazing at the rippling water and the barges and ships which were moored in the dock. Then he cast his eyes down Whitefriargate, the way he had just come, and saw her.

He had tried to analyse his feelings towards Poppy as he'd walked here, arriving early so that he could watch her coming towards him and judge how he felt about her. She had always been just his friend's little sister, but the last few times he had seen her he had felt differently towards her. He had noticed how attractive she had become, and although he had laughed when Tommy warned him off, he had thought of her often. She had become more womanly, more desirable to his senses. She had disturbed him since that first kiss, which he would quite like to repeat. But he was going away. There will be other women, he told himself. Women, not schoolgirls, which is what Poppy still is. Tommy said she has a crush on me, and it's always flattering to a man's vanity when a woman, or a girl, admires him.