Poppy Day (12 page)

‘It’s Jess. I’ve come back to see yer.’

‘Jess.’ The moment of wonder passed and his expression became more guarded. He came towards her, wiping his hands on his apron, beard tucked between the buttons of his shirt. His eyes, always childlike, seemed paler, his skin a little slacker. Jess was moved. Could it have been the shock of her going which had aged him in just a few months?

But then, with obvious disquiet, he said, ‘Not come back for good, ’ave yer?’

‘No!’ Hurt and anger burned in her again. Why had she let herself think he might have missed her? ‘Not likely. I just thought you might be pleased to see yer daughter once every blue moon, that’s all. But I can see I got it wrong!’

‘I am pleased to see yer. I just didn’t expect yer.’

‘Why didn’t you answer Olive back when she writ yer? That wouldn’t ’ve cost yer much, would it?’ Ned could sense the anguish behind the aggression in her voice.

William shrugged. ‘She said you was awright. Come to no harm. You wanted to go, and yer went.’

Jess turned away. What was the point? Nothing had changed. She’d got out of their way and that suited both of them.

She looked back at her father. ‘To think I came back wanting forgiveness from you! It’s you who should be on yer knees begging me for it. Come on, Ned – I’m not wanted ’ere. Never was.’

Sarah met them on their way back across the garden.

‘We won’t stop to get in yer way,’ Jess said. ‘I’ve done quite enough of that in my time already.’

‘Yer upset ’im, going like that, yer know. Took ’im an age to get over it.’

‘Well ’e seems to be over it now.’

Jess stood by the vegetable patch, arms tightly crossed. She was infuriated to find herself fighting back tears.

‘Yer can come in and have a bite to eat if yer want,’ Sarah said. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘No,’ Jess retorted. ‘Maybe yer don’t. But I do. I’m never sitting at a table again where I’m not welcome.’

Sarah took a step away, as if there was work she needed to get back to. ‘Give us a bit of warning next time yer decide to come.’

‘Oh – there won’t be a next time. Goodbye, Sarah.’

They went down to the lane and shut the gate. Jess stopped, leaned against the back wall and put her hands over her face.

‘Oh I wish my mom’d never died! God knows, all I wanted was to feel ’e might be pleased to see me.’

Ned’s arms came round her, warm and comforting as the sobs broke from her. She had had no idea that coming back here would make her feel quite so desolate. She had done wrong running away, she knew, but could they not see the wrong they’d done her by trying to marry her off to Philip? She had still hoped deep down, that beneath her father’s reserved ways he really loved her, that one day he’d be able to show her. But now she felt utterly cut off: more alone than ever. She clung with all her strength to Ned as he held her. He was her life now, her anchor.

‘Never leave me, Ned. You won’t, will yer, promise me?’

He held her while she cried like a little child.

In a while she wiped her face.

‘Let’s go over there.’ She pointed beyond to where the hayfield met the wheat, the hedgerow a dark line between. ‘No one ever goes there, not except at harvest or sowing time. We can just pretend there’s no one else in the world but us.’

‘That sounds my sort of place,’ Ned said. Her tears had roused in him a powerful combination of tenderness and desire.

Jess looked anxiously at him. ‘Are yer hungry? We could get summat in the village.’

‘No—’ He reached for her hand. ‘That can wait.’

They walked hand in hand across the hayfield, swishing through the grass, hearing the wind moving through it. The feel and sound of it filled Jess with a wistful longing. It was the sound of her childhood, once happy, then so cruelly spoilt. She looked up at Ned beside her, white shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his arms, jacket slung over one shoulder. Just the sight of him made her want to hold him close: his wavy hair, shaped rather squarely round his forehead, darker eyebrows. She pressed his hand to her lips.

‘You suit the country an’ all,’ she said. ‘D’yer fancy being a farmer?’

He laughed. ‘Not sure I’d know one end of a cow from another! I’d ’ave to leave that to you!’

Jess thought of Mrs Hunter, the farmer’s wife, and her exhausted face. ‘It’s one of the hardest jobs there is, I reckon.’

There was a strip of unsown land where shorter, scrubbier grass was growing, but it was in the shade, so they walked to the gate and climbed through to the wheatfield.

‘That’s better,’ Ned said. ‘It feels even further away from everything.’

‘Let’s sit down.’ Jess took Ned’s coat and her cardigan and laid them together. She looked shyly at him. ‘Half the day’s gone already. I wish we could stop it going so fast.’

They lay resting back on their elbows, looking out across the corn, hearing the breeze, the occasional grating cry of a crow, and smaller birds darting between the heads of wheat. Between its tough stalks, the glowing petals of poppies blew on their curved stems, their blooms wide open to the sun. Jess rolled over and snuggled closer to Ned.

‘It don’t matter about them any more. I’ve got you. I mean I know I ain’t really got yer – but I have for today, so I can pretend.’

‘I wish you could meet my mom and dad. They’d like you.’

‘They like Mary though. So they wouldn’t, would they? Not as things are. If they knew they’d hate me!’

Ned was silent. He picked a stalk of grass with his free hand and nibbled the end. Suddenly he rolled on to his side and looked into her eyes. They seemed to hold a question, whether directed at him or within herself, he couldn’t tell. For a moment she looked deeply serious, then a smile broke over her face.

‘My Jess,’ he said. ‘My wench. Yer lovely, you are.’ If only he could tell her properly what he felt! But words were no use. He kissed her mouth, slowly moving his hands over her body. Her dress was light cotton, only her bare flesh beneath. He worked his way, stroking until he reached her breasts and reached inside until he could move his hands over them and they were so firm and beautiful to touch. She didn’t object, as she had sometimes in the park, thinking people could see. She arched her back, responding to his kisses, pressing against him until he was aroused past reason.

Jess’s mind was awhirl. Here they were, for the first time ever in a place where they were truly alone. The one time where she could have with him what Mary had. She could have his whole body. She felt a throbbing between her legs at the thought. No one would know. No one except the two of them. The idea of this act with Philip had so repulsed her, but now, as Ned touched her, it felt right, the only thing to do, inevitable.

Ned tried to hold on to his self-control. He mustn’t go too far, it was wrong. For some time they lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, until he pulled away and knelt above her.

‘Oh God, Jess—’ he sounded desperate. ‘I want you – let me have you . . .’

She gave a small, uncertain nod, then whispered, ‘Yes.’ She reached out and began to unbutton him, hearing him panting in surprise.

He unfastened her dress, looking around, afraid that despite what she’d said, someone was coming. But there was no one. She raised her arms and he pulled the dress over her head, then took off his own shirt.

They made love beside the rustling wall of wheat, her strong fingers pressing on his bare back, her legs locked round him, urging him closer and deeper to her.

Everything was quiet, then, except for the sound of their breathing, pressed close to one another, and the swish of the corn. She moved her hands over him, in wonder at what had just happened.

‘What a woman you are, Jess,’ Ned murmured. ‘There’s no one like you.’

She kissed his neck, holding him close looking up at the tiny puffs of cloud against the blue sky, and the brilliant red smile of the poppies.

Now he’s mine, she thought, without shame. Really and truly mine.

‘EUROPE AT WAR — ENGLAND IN SUSPENSE’

Jess bought the
Gazette
that Bank Holiday Monday, a week after her day with Ned. She read it in Aston Reservoir Grounds, lolling on the grass with Olive, Polly and Sis, buying Scattoli’s ice-creams as a treat, the tinkling music and roar of engines drifting to them from the Fun Park where they’d come for a day out. It was a hot, festive day, smelling of fried onions and engine oil. The idea of war seemed abstract and far away, despite the talk in the factory all week.

‘D’yer think it’ll ’appen, Mom?’ Polly looked round at Olive who was sitting behind them, legs splayed, shoes off to air her bunions.

‘Looks as if it might. They want to get it over with, that they do.’

The next day, 4 August, England declared war on Germany, and three days later, Bert came home jubilant.

‘I’ve joined up!’

Jess had never seen him look so excited. He seemed taller suddenly, shoulders back, proud of himself. The women stood in a ring, giving him their absolute attention.

‘Well,’ Olive said. ‘Yer father was an army man – in the early days.’

‘I asked about joining his regiment, but they said I might as well be in the Warwicks – with Sid and Jem. They’ll let us know, soon’s they want us.’ He pulled his boots off, looking up at them from his seat by the cold hearth. ‘Can’t be worse than all the bloody noise and filth in the Mills, can it? I’ve always had a hankering to give the army a go, so now’s me chance.’

Jess immediately thought about Ned. He wouldn’t go, would he? Not a married man with a family? And with her . . . He couldn’t leave – how could she bear it?

Bert left a few days later, the family hero, for training at Tidworth, on the edge of Salisbury Plain.

Ernie was next. By the middle of August posters were appearing all over town, Kitchener’s handlebar moustache, ‘Your Country Needs You’. When Ernie came round that Saturday night, Polly knew immediately.

‘Oh Ernie – yer haven’t!’

Ernie smiled shyly, stroking his beard. Ronny was throwing himself at his legs and Ernie laughed, picking the little boy up and making faces at him so he chuckled.

‘Ooh – yer getting too heavy for me!’ He swung him to the floor. ‘Look, Poll – d’yer fancy coming out, for a walk like?’ Jess saw a blush seep into his chubby cheeks.

Olive’s eyes followed them as they left. When they came back, Polly was pink-faced and smiling, and both of them looked as if they might burst if they didn’t get the words out.

‘You two look mightily pleased with yerselves,’ Olive said. ‘Let’s ’ear it then, whatever it is.’

‘The thing is, Mrs B,’ Ernie said, all blushes. ‘What with me going away soon like, I’ve asked – I mean, Poll and I would like to get wed.’

‘Oh, Poll!’ Jess cried, delighted for her.

‘Oooh!’ came from Sis.

Olive was silent.

‘Is that awright, Mom?’ Polly looked uncertain. ‘I mean, since I’ve no dad to ask for permission like . . .’

‘When was yer thinking of? Yer getting married in church, proper like?’

‘Whatever you say, Mrs B,’ Ernie said fervently. ‘I want to do right by Polly, and if that’s what she wants.’

‘Ar, it is what she wants,’ Olive said. ‘Well – yer’d best get weaving then, ain’t yer? We’ll sort yer a frock out, Poll.’

Jess went to them, ‘I’m very happy for yer. That’s lovely news that is.’ She kissed them both, making Ernie go red again.

She was indeed very pleased. Polly deserved to be happy and she liked Ernie. Would have trusted him with her life. But that night there was an ache in her heart for the thought of a wedding of her own. A wedding that she doubted could ever happen with the man she loved.

They still met every week, hungry for each other’s company. Their lovemaking had brought them even closer, and they spent their one evening a week locked together, walking, talking. The next Tuesday, they went to Handsworth Park.

‘It’s daft me bringing you ’ere again,’ Ned said. ‘Too near home for comfort.’

‘But it’s so pretty – everyone else’s in getting on with their tea this time o’ day.’

‘That first time I came ’ere with yer – you know – after you nearly threw yerself under that bus . . .’ He shook his head in teasing despair at her antics. ‘I’ve never felt more wound up in me life.’

Jess smiled. ‘Nor me.’ After a moment she said abruptly, ‘Ned – you’re not going to join up, are yer?’

He was silent, then sighed. ‘Not for now, anyroad.’ Seeing her dismayed face he touched her cheek, smiling. ‘Eh, cheer up! They don’t want an old married man of twenty-one – we’ll let the young’uns with no family go first and see what ’appens! They say it’ll all be over in a few weeks anyroad.’

‘I can’t stand the thought of you going away. I mean, I’m no one – nothing to yer, am I? Not as far as anyone else knows. If anything was to ’appen to yer, it’s the widow they’d tell, not me . . .’

She sounded so wretched, Ned turned and held her in his arms. She breathed in the smell of him, salty, sweaty in the heat.

‘That’s enough of that. I’m not going anywhere, Jess. I’m ’ere.’

They made love again that evening, in a corner of the churchyard beyond the park, hidden behind long grass and a tree. It wasn’t planned, but they sat together in the dusk, under the wide branches of the tree, and were overcome with desire for one another. Jess felt her whole body yearning to be touched and loved. She pulled him close into her, knowing as she did she should be ashamed at being so eager, so helpless with need of him. But she was not ashamed. She was moved that he made love to her so urgently. She didn’t care about tomorrow or next week, only now. And now, if this was how they spent it, was enough.

When they had become calmer he lay stroking her, kissing her cheeks, her lips, his hand under her blouse.

‘Oh Jess, we need to be so careful.’

‘I know. But sometimes I just don’t care. It feels as if there is nothing else. Because there ain’t—’ she turned and looked him in the eyes. ‘Not for me.’

She saw Ned close his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he said, ‘I’m a coward, I should leave her. Go against everyone and go with you, where I really want to be.’

Jess held her breath, waiting, but he did not speak again, not about that. There was a long silence.

Polly and Ernie managed to organize a whirlwind wedding the next weekend, before Ernie had to report to his regiment, the 10th Warwickshires. They were married at St Agnes Church in Sparkbrook, where Ernie’s family were regular members and where Olive had attended as a young woman. Polly looked very sweet in a lilac dress trimmed with lace. Ernie’s cheeks popped up over the rim of a tight collar. He sweated both with the heat and with nerves and seemed to find the whole occasion an ordeal, but kept smiling valiantly, clearly happy and in love, as Polly was too.

It was also an ordeal for Jess. Ned and Mary were invited, and sat behind her, Mary holding Ruth on her lap. Jess could hear the baby’s little sounds as Mary fed her discreetly to keep her quiet. She felt Ned’s presence behind her as if a current was running between them. Her chest was tight with repressed emotions.

They were the only guests who came back to the house. Jess tried to stay away from him, keeping busy making tea and cutting cake. Then she sat with Polly and Ernie, who as usual had Ronny on his lap, and they made jokes about the two of them soon having their own children, which made Polly blush and look happier than ever. The couple left in the evening for three days’ holiday, staying in a pub in the country.

Polly came back looking very healthy and said bashfully, that they had had a lovely time.

Work changed abruptly. Now they were making battalion badges with a crest at the top: underneath, the lettering, ‘Volunteered for Birmingham Battalion’. Evie was full of pride because her new boyfriend had just volunteered. Polly was also proud, but bereft now Ernie was gone, first to Budbrooke Barracks, then on to Tidworth, like Bert.

Summer waned into autumn, but the impetus for war did not fade with it. The papers showed pictures of Belgian refugees arriving in Britain. Ned told Jess that Bonney the fire station horse had been taken to be shipped to France. They started to hear about battles: Mons, Le Cateau, the Marne. Across the Town Hall, a huge banner read: ‘RECRUITING OFFICE: WANTED, 500,000 MEN. GOD SAVE THE KING.’

The pressure on young men to join the fighting was becoming irresistible. Jess knew in her heart that it had to happen eventually.

One evening when she met Ned, he pulled out a white card from his pocket and showed it to her reluctantly. It was his enlistment appointment from the Deputy Mayor.

‘It won’t be for long. They’re saying it’ll only last a few months, if that. But I can’t stand by and let everyone else go and not be part of it, can I? I feel like a shirker, a coward, if I don’t do my bit.’

Ned watched her face. Saw her summon strength inside herself.

‘I don’t want yer to go, course I don’t,’ she said. ‘But I s’pose I’d feel the same.’ She smiled tenderly. ‘I’m proud of yer.’

As they parted that evening, Ned walked home with a sense of relief, freedom even. All these months he had been torn between Jess and Mary, so that he was worn down with it. He felt unsettled and deceitful, when he had been accustomed all his life to people thinking well of him. Going away from it all was a way out. Just men round him. It would give him time to think, to see if he could forget Jess, and pull himself round to doing what was right. Stick with Mary. Or find the courage to leave her and face the consequences. At the moment that felt the hardest, most heartbreaking decision he had ever faced in his life.