Poppy's War (12 page)

Poppy stared after him in dismay. She was not a child. Her hand went automatically to the glass heart around her neck; she could feel its shape through her woollen jumper.

‘Guy’s right. We must be mad standing out here when there’s a lovely fire inside. Come on, Poppy.’

Holding Rupert’s hand, Poppy followed Amy into the house, but she knew there was going to be trouble the instant she saw the expression on Mrs Carroll’s face. Her smile of welcome had been replaced by tight-lipped disapproval. ‘Are you completely insane, Guy?’

‘Merry Christmas to you, Mother.’

‘Don’t Merry Christmas me. How could you do such a thing without consulting your father and me?’

‘Oh dear, she is upset,’ Amy murmured, clutching Guy’s arm as if she wanted to shield him from his mother’s wrath.

‘Perhaps we’d better make tracks for home, sis,’ Algy said in a low voice. ‘I think Guy needs time alone with his family.’

‘Nonsense,’ Guy said firmly. ‘You’re both family as near as damn it, anyway, and we won’t allow this to spoil Christmas, will we, Mother?’

‘We’ll see what your father has to say.’ Marina stalked off in the direction of the drawing room.

‘What did I tell you just now?’ Pamela hissed in Poppy’s ear. ‘Take Master Rupert to the nursery and
make
sure that he eats his supper. I’ll come up and kiss him goodnight when he’s ready for bed.’

Finding herself left alone with Rupert yet again, Poppy picked him up and carried him to the nursery, but he was fractious and all her attempts to amuse him failed. She could not stop thinking about Guy and wondering what was being said in the drawing room. He looked so handsome in his uniform, and she simply could not understand why his mother was not bursting with pride to have such a brave son.

Rupert had begun to snivel, but his attention was diverted when the nursery door flew open, helped by Nancy’s foot. ‘What a way to spend Christmas Eve,’ she muttered, eyeing Poppy as if it were all her fault. ‘Here’s your supper, Popeye. I hope it chokes you.’ She dumped the tray on the table, causing Rupert’s milk to slop onto the cloth.

‘Thank you,’ Poppy said, lifting Rupert into his high chair.

Nancy hesitated in the doorway. ‘I suppose you’re happy now?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Your heart-throb has come home all dolled up in uniform.’

‘Mr Guy is a brave man, fighting for his country.’

‘And you’re a stuck-up little bitch.’

‘Go away, Nancy. You’re upsetting Master Rupert.’

Nancy hovered in the doorway, seemingly unwilling to let matters lie. ‘You think you’re the bee’s knees since Miss Amy took you under her
wing
, but you’re still common like the rest of us. The family won’t never accept you as one of them. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Popeye.’ She slammed out of the room, leaving Rupert staring after her with his mouth open.

Poppy scooped up a spoonful of chicken broth and put it to his lips. ‘Don’t take any notice of her, Rupert. She’s a mean old fox-face.’

Early next morning, Poppy saw to it that Rupert was washed and dressed with a feeling of resentment gnawing inside her. His mother had not come to kiss him goodnight as promised and no one had thought to hang a stocking at the end of his cot. If Poppy had been at home the smell of bacon frying and hot toast would be wafting up from the kitchen. Cooked breakfast was a special treat reserved for birthdays and Christmas. Even though she was too old for toys, there would have been a stocking filled with nuts, sweets, an apple and an orange and some small gifts. It seemed callous to treat a little kid this way, but the Carrolls did everything differently all round. A wave of homesickness washed over her. She fingered the silver chain and the glass heart, closing her eyes and picturing Mum’s face when she had said goodbye. In her pocket she had an envelope that had come on Christmas Eve bearing a London postmark. Inside, tantalisingly enough, was another smaller envelope with the inscription
Do not open until Christmas Day
.

Olive delivered the breakfast tray with an air of resignation. ‘Merry Christmas, Poppy.’ She left the room without giving Poppy a chance to respond in kind.

Half an hour later, Pamela collected Rupert and Poppy was alone at last to open her letter. Her fingers trembled as she ripped the envelope apart and a card dropped onto the tablecloth. On examination it was a book token to the value of seven and six. She could hardly believe her eyes. Mum and Dad must have been saving up for weeks to give her such a magnificent present. She snatched up the slip of paper that had fluttered out with it.

Dear Poppy
,

Knowing how you love to read we all clubbed together to get you this book token so you can choose something you really want. Joe has joined up because the papers say that he’d be called up soon anyway. Your dad is disappointed that he is too old to go back in the army, but as you can imagine, love, Gran and I are very pleased. Anyway he does important work on the railway and we all have to do our bit
.

Take care of yourself, love, and let’s hope it’ll all be over soon and you can come home. Give my kind regards to Mr and Mrs Carroll and that nice Miss Amy
.

Lots and lots of love
,

Mum
.

Poppy’s eyes filled with tears as she read and reread the note, but she swallowed hard and braced her shoulders. Mum would tell her not to cry and Gran would say, ‘Keep your chin up, girl.’ But it was not that easy. A large teardrop splashed onto the paper causing the ink to smudge. Mum’s writing brought home closer and yet her family were as far from reach as ever. She dashed her hand across her eyes as she heard the latch click and the door opened. She looked up and saw Guy standing in the doorway. The letter fell from her nerveless fingers but he moved swiftly and caught it before it fluttered to the floor.

‘News from home, Poppy?’

‘Yes.’

‘Not bad news, I hope?’

‘Not really. Except that my brother Joe has joined the army.’

‘Good for him. You must be proud.’

She raised her eyes to his face and his sympathetic smile brought a rush of tears that simply refused to stop. He sat down at the table and taking a starched white handkerchief from his pocket he pressed it into her hand. ‘Chin up, Poppy.’

She blew her nose into its soft folds. ‘My gran always says that.’

‘Your gran sounds like a very wise woman. You must tell me all about your family when there’s more time, but now I want you to dry your eyes and come downstairs with me.’

Poppy slanted a sideways look at him. He is handsome like a film star, she thought, but just now his face had a touch of hardness about it that had not been there before he went away. His thick, wavy hair, which was more or less the same colour as Rupert’s, had been cut very short. She realised that he was regarding her with a smile on his lips. ‘Penny for them, Poppy.’

‘They’ve cut your hair too short.’

He stood up to look in the mirror above the fireplace. ‘You know, I think you’re right. Next time I’ll tell the barber not to be so keen.’

She stared at him in amazement. ‘Will you really?’

‘I certainly will. And now we’d better hurry or we’ll be late for morning service.’

She stared at him, thinking that she must have misheard. ‘I’m going to church with you?’

‘Absolutely, and then you’re going to have Christmas lunch with the family.’

‘Really and truly?’

‘Really and truly. Get your coat and hat.’

She jumped to her feet, but then she remembered that she had his handkerchief clutched in her hand. She offered it to him but he shook his head. ‘You keep it, Poppy. I’ve got plenty.’

She was allowed to sit in the roadster’s dicky seat all the way to the village and again on the return from church. She had sat in between Amy and Guy during the service and when they got back to the house she
could
hardly believe her luck when Guy took her firmly by the hand and led her into the dining room. Her eyes opened wide as she gazed around at the usually sombre room, which had been transformed with swags of holly and ivy. At home they would have put up paper chains she had made at school and maybe there would be a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the lightshade in the hall, but only when Joe was bringing a girlfriend round for Christmas dinner. The gleaming mahogany dining table was set with silver cutlery and candelabra with tapering candles throwing a soft light onto the crystal glasses. If the Ghost of Christmas Past had suddenly appeared Poppy would not have been at all surprised.

After lunch Poppy was prepared to take Rupert back to the nursery, but Amy guided her into the drawing room. Beneath a much smaller Christmas tree than the one in the great hall was a pile of boxes wrapped in brightly coloured paper and tied with ribbons and tinsel. Poppy’s small gifts wrapped in brown paper paled into insignificance beside such opulence.

Poppy was amazed when Guy placed one of the largest boxes at her feet. ‘For me?’

‘All for you, Poppy,’ Amy said, smiling. ‘It’s from the whole family. We wanted you to have something special.’

Poppy began to take the paper off very carefully without tearing it but Guy leaned forward and gave
the
paper a tweak so that it fell from the box, causing Poppy to gasp with delight. ‘It’s a wireless. There must be some mistake. This can’t be for me.’

‘It certainly is,’ Amy said happily. ‘We thought you spent far too much time doing nothing but study.’

‘I don’t know what to say,’ Poppy murmured, completely at a loss.

‘Well, we’re looking forward to opening our presents from you,’ Amy said gently. ‘Why don’t you give them out yourself, Poppy? Everyone else has had theirs now.’

Poppy got up feeling very self-conscious as she crossed the expanse of Persian carpet to the tree. She gave out her small packages, apologising to Pamela and Hector and then to Algy because she had nothing for them.

‘Never mind,’ Hector said cheerfully. ‘It was more than good of you to think of Rupert, Poppy.’

‘And I certainly didn’t expect anything,’ Algy said, tweaking her plaits. ‘Though of course I’ll never speak to you again.’

She thought for a moment that he was serious, but a quick glance at his smiling face reassured her. For the first time, she could see a likeness between him and Amy. Maybe it was the china blue eyes or the way they crinkled at the corners when he laughed, or simply the abundant good nature that they both possessed. Poppy grinned back at him and he responded with a cheery wink.

Edwin thanked her enthusiastically for the calendar, which he said he was going to hang in his study. Amy immediately knotted the blue chiffon scarf around her neck and kissed Poppy on the cheek. Guy unwrapped his present and taking great care he opened the little cardboard box and took out the St Christopher medal, holding it by its chain for everyone to see. ‘Thank you, Poppy. This is the best present ever.’

‘It’s to keep you safe in your plane. St Christopher looks after travellers.’

‘I’ll wear it and think of you,’ Guy said, smiling. He rose to his feet. ‘And now I’ve got an announcement to make.’ He cleared his throat and smiling down at Amy he took her by the hand. ‘This brave girl has done me the great honour of agreeing to be my wife.’

In the sudden, deathly silence Poppy was certain that the clock on the mantelpiece stopped ticking, the flames in the grate froze in fiery spikes and she held her breath.

Marina sprang to her feet. ‘You damn fool, Guy!’

Hector cleared his throat with a nervous cough and Rupert started banging the drum that some thoughtless person had given him as a present.

Amy stood up, moving close to Guy so that to Poppy’s eyes they seemed to be welded together.

‘Well, aren’t you going to congratulate us?’ Guy said, slipping his arm around Amy’s waist.

The clock started to chime the hour, the fire spat a
lump
of burning coal onto the hearth and everyone began talking at once. Poppy looked helplessly at Guy but he was staring at his mother with his jaw set in a hard line.

‘You’re completely mad, Guy,’ Marina said furiously. ‘First you give up medical school and decide to become a fighter pilot in some immature, misguided attempt at heroics, and then, without any apparent thought, you engage yourself to a sick girl. I won’t allow it.’

Before Guy could retaliate, Amy stepped forward, glaring angrily at her future mother-in-law. ‘Don’t speak to Guy like that, Mrs Carroll. You should be proud of him for joining up to fight for his country. I think he’s terribly brave.’

There was a moment of silence as everyone stared in amazement at Amy who was visibly trembling with anger. Poppy thought vaguely that it was as if a toy poodle had attacked a tiger.

‘Brave?’ The word fell from Marina’s lips like acid. ‘Guy hates the sight of guns. He refuses to join our shooting parties. What chance would he have against the Luftwaffe? And what does a silly young girl like you know about anything anyway?’

‘Just because he doesn’t enjoy blood sports doesn’t make him any less of a man.’ Amy’s voice throbbed with passion. ‘In fact, in my eyes it makes him ten times the braver for sticking to his principles. And as for him saddling himself with a sick woman, let me assure you that I’m perfectly well. The sanatorium
cured
me completely and even if it hadn’t, I’d rather spend a few short years as Guy’s wife than live to be a hundred without him.’ She burst into tears.

Guy hooked his arm around her shoulders. ‘Mother, unless you apologise to Amy this minute, I’m walking out of the house and I won’t return until you beg her forgiveness.’

‘It’s Christmas and you’re upsetting everyone, Guy,’ Pamela said angrily.

Edwin rose to his feet. ‘Marina, my dear, I think you should put an end to this before things get completely out of hand.’

‘That’s right, Edwin. Side with the children as you always do. When did you ever agree with me on any subject?’

‘Almost every day, my dear. But in this instance I think you should apologise to Amy and to our son. Guy is almost twenty-two and he can run his life as he sees fit. For myself, I’m proud that he’s going to do his bit for King and country. And as to the engagement, if I had to choose my daughter-in-law, I don’t think I could find a sweeter or more courageous young lady than Amy.’