Poppy Darke

by Colin Wraight

  “Wait.” she shouted. “Your Mother… Your Mother was called Ethel Cottrell! How do I know that? Tell me how I know you?” The name was a guess, plucked out of the air, but somehow right.

  He didn’t answer and he didn’t look back, Poppy watched him until he sat down on the riverbank below the bridge. As she made her way home she had the most peculiar feeling of déjà vu and couldn’t get that old man out of her mind.

  A blue Nissan Micra passed by and the lady driving waved, Poppy smiled and waved back. It was a smile of utter dread, for that woman was the area Midwife and with her leaving who would control the devil child now. As Poppy opened the front door she looked to the sky and gave a last thought to those clouds; where were they now, the lucky things.

  Jesse patiently watched her until she was safely inside the house; he didn’t want her following him. If there really was a big cat prowling the countryside then surely the Goyles would know about it. Besides, he wanted to tell Slurpe all the gory details.

  Jesse’s mum, Rebecca, suddenly opened her front door and stepped out carrying a steaming pan. Jesse couldn’t smell anything but he knew that pan contained stew and dumplings; she always used that pan for stew, he figured she was taking it around for Poppy and her mum and felt pangs of jealousy as it had always been his favorite. He simply couldn’t have the two families getting close; he had to make sure Poppy never saw his photo or his ghostly secret would be out. For the moment there was nothing he could do and Slurpe was waiting.

  Anne Darke should have been tucked up in a Hospital bed but refused point blank. The Midwife had huffed and puffed and almost had a fit trying to persuade her to go, it was all in vain though. Once Mrs. Darke makes her mind up about something there’s no talking to her, she insisted on staying at home and that’s what happened. She was currently curled up on the sofa, under a blanket, gazing starry-eyed at Dylan; apparently that was the latest in a long line of definite names for the brat.

  Poppy took a quick look at her new brother, she was only surprised by the fact he didn’t have any horns, he was just pink and wrinkly. “Would you like a cup of tea Mum?” she asked.

  Her Mum nodded and held out her cup, all the time refusing to take her eyes off her bundle of joy. “You’re going to have to start helping around the house a bit more you know!”

  Twelve inches long, no horns and he’d already taken over Poppy’s world. She smiled a fake smile of agreement and wondered if she could use all this happiness and good will to her own advantage. “I’ll need my mobile phone back then... That way if you need me…”

  “Nice try… But I’ll think about it. Your behavior has really improved lately! Let’s see how school goes next week. I’ll phone Ms. Craven later and tell her you’re not starting until Monday… We’re going to need you here.”

  Not only had he taken over her world but she was now his personnel slave. “Sorry Mum, but I don’t do ‘changing nappies’.” Then she disappeared into the kitchen and punched the air with delight at not having to go to school for another six days.

  Anne Darke smiled, from the smell of things, her wayward daughter was about to learn how to do just that.

  Chapter 8

  It was the same old nightmare, the one where she’s trapped in a fire and the flames are somehow alive and chasing her. Poppy woke with a start and was relieved to find no raging inferno about to pounce; she was hot and sweaty though and pushed the quilt down the bed with her feet.

  The howling wind raged outside and the full moon made shadows dance feverishly on the wall. Tap… tap… tap a branch rapped on the window pane. Tap…tap …tap. Poppy wished the irritating noise would just stop so she could go back to sleep. Tap… tap tap… tap. A roar of frustration blew from her mouth as she jumped out of bed and switched the light on. Tap…tap…tap...tap.

  Poppy didn’t believe the digital clock on first glance, so she sleepily rubbed her eyes and looked again, it was a little before two in the morning.

  Maybe it was because she was still half asleep, but it wasn’t until she actually opened the window that she remembered there were no trees outside her bedroom. She peered up and down the street and the only life she could see was a solitary bat battling against the wind as it tried to stay in orbit around a street light.

  The Bat soared and wheeled in great arcs; it looped and swooped as it sought out insects on the wing. With every loop it flew closer and closer, until Poppy could see its face. That’s when it happened; suddenly and without any warning a long, glistening and snakelike projectile shot out from the roof and captured the bat in mid-flight.

  Whatever it was must have overstretched or overbalanced and lost its footing on the slates. Because now Poppy could hear bangs and bumps and cries of pain as something tumbled and crashed from the roof, knocking over the dustbins as it crumpled to the ground with a gut wrenching thud.

  “Oo… Ouch… Aargh…!

  “Who’s there?” Poppy Asked. “Are you alright?”

  More moaning followed, and then. “Slurpe is in one piece..! Ouch… Oh my wing hurts!”

  She recognized the name straight away. “Stay there! I’m coming down.” she threw on a gown and some slippers and went downstairs as quietly as she could.

  Tap…tap tap…Tap came a noise from the front door

  Poppy first unlocked and then opened it. “Ssh you’ll wake my mum.” she said, but there was no one there. “Slurpe, where are you?”

  “Slurpe is too shy!”

  “Come out… I won’t hurt you.” she said and stepped onto the path.

  “Poppy promise to play with Slurpe tonight..! Slurpe bring toy car!”

  “Ok… but you have to come out where I can see you.”

  A tiny red Ferrari suddenly shot down the path and at the last moment veered off into some flowers and landed on its roof. Poppy retrieved it and sent the car hurtling back into the darkness, there was a giggle and a few seconds later it would return. This went on for some time and at no point did Slurpe show his face, or any other part of his body for that matter. There was just the occasional titter, snigger or some other weird noise that Poppy didn’t understand.

  “I’m really thirsty,” she said after a while. “Do you want a drink?” she wasn’t thirsty at all and just wanted a break in the monotony of rolling that stupid car up and down the path. Slurpe sort of grunted and she took that as a sign that he also wanted a drink. Poppy went into the house and returned a few minutes later with two glasses of fizzy cola.

  “Here you are!” she said, hoping the sparkling drink would entice him out so that she could see him at last. There was no movement in the bushes or undergrowth, except that caused by the wind. “Well, do you want this or not?”

  “Slurpe... want!”

  Poppy froze; Slurps’ voice had come from behind her. She slowly turned to face her newfound friend and there he was, standing right behind her on the path fidgeting nervously. She recognized him immediately; he was the statue she had repaired weeks earlier in the cemetery. “Hello!”

  Slurpe drooled uncontrollably as he gawped wide-eyed at the drink; he had waited his entire life for this moment. Frothy white saliva collected in huge sticky globules on his chin. Driven by gravity, they slowly oozed down his body and pooled between his bony feet.

  Smiling, Poppy knelt down on one knee and gently held out one of the glasses. “Here then... Come and get it.”

  Loosely wrapped in his own wings to protect from the night chill the young Goyle flashed a toothy grin as only a Goyle can. He had other ideas as his wings flapped open and fluttered momentarily before folding neatly away behind him. Suddenly his long sticky tongue shot from his mouth and the tip coiled around the glass. Poppy just managed to let go before he pulled it from her hand.

  “Don’t break the glass.” she cried. “My mum will kill me if you do!”

  Slurpe manipulated the half full glass expertly as he reeled in that snake like tongue and didn’t spill a single drop. He even began showing off and teasing Poppy by co
vering his eyes with his hands and dropping the glass only to catch it again just before it hit the ground, still without losing any of the liquid.

  Poppy burst out laughing and couldn’t stop. “Stop it!” she cried through fits of the giggles. ”You’re making my ribs hurt!”

  The more Poppy laughed, the more Slurps’ confidence grew and he began tossing the glass high into the air. As it fell to the ground he would cover one eye or both eyes and feign panic, then spin around or pull hideous faces before once again catching the glass just in time.

  Eventually he caught the still half full glass of fizzy drink in his hand. “Show over..! Slurpe is thirsty now!”

  “What do you normally drink at home?” she enquired, for a moment Poppy imagined the Rottenoffles doing their weekly shop in a supermarket. “That’s very fizzy...”

  She was too late, Slurpe guzzled downed the brown sparkling liquid in one go. Almost immediately his little pot belly began swelling and stretched to almost double its size, and only relaxed after he let out a huge burp. He thought it was hysterical and burst out laughing, but then it swelled up again, this time even bigger than before. His girth grew and grew until he looked like he’d swallowed a beach ball.

  “Poppy Darke... Run away!” he cried, as several shiny little bubbles floated out of his mouth.

  Poppy was transfixed by those bubbles glistening under the scant moonlight, she watched them drift away and burst one by one on some nearby rose bushes. Then the rumbling started, which got louder and louder. All of a sudden, with a gut busting belch, a powerful blast of cola flavored air exploded out of Slurpes mouth; it easily knocked Poppy over, sending her sprawling into the flower beds. She could only watch wide eyed and helpless as Slurpe was catapulted backwards at a frightening speed and bounced off a shed, and then he hurtled headlong into a car parked on the street, setting off the alarm. He must have burped again because suddenly he shot up into the sky and groaned as he banged his head on a lamp post. He tumbled to the ground with a muffled thud just as a neighbor came out to turn his car alarm off.

  Poppy stayed out of sight on the ground until the man had gone and then she ran out on to the street to look for her friend. “Slurpe, where are you?” she cried, as loudly as she dare at three O’clock in the morning. “I just want to know if you’re ok!” She searched up and down the street, in people’s gardens and under cars, but he was nowhere to be found and she was getting very tired and just oh so slightly angry. “If you can hear me... I’m going back to bed now! I’ve got my first day at school tomorrow... Slurpe, I’m really tired of all this. Can you stop messing about now please?”

  There was no reply, so in the end Poppy reluctantly had to give up looking and returned to her cold bed. She couldn’t sleep with the worry of it all and had barely gotten comfortable when the baby woke up and began crying. She listened to her mum getting out of bed, and then she heard whispering as the doting mother tried to settle him down again. The last things Poppy remembered was the sound of the brat being carried downstairs and then looking at the clock, it was half past four.

  It seemed like seconds later that the alarm clock started screaming or was that the baby again? Anyhow, it was time to get up and face the world. The uniform hung on the back of the door, starched and pressed. Everything else from her underwear, socks and shoes to a pencil and ruler were still in the plastic bags they had been brought home in from the shops.

  Lost in a daydream she brushed her teeth, a tooth at a time and washed slowly. Soon the inevitable was upon her, having been successfully delayed for so long, now it was time. As she walked back to her bedroom Poppy imagined how a condemned man might feel on his very last morning.

  “He’d be dead scared!” she said breathlessly to herself and then added. “Scared but brave!” That started her off daydreaming again, only the sound of her mother telling her to hurry up brought her to her senses. She found herself staring at the school uniform as a swarm of butterflies fluttered wildly in her stomach. She didn’t want to touch it let alone wear it.

  The pleated knee length charcoal skirt was too loose, as was the white shirt. The patent black leather shoes were far too tight and hurt at the heel. Infact, the only thing which fitted her correctly was the grey cardigan and Poppy hated ‘grannigans’ as she called them. The white socks were the only good thing about the whole outfit; they hid the electronic tag she had to wear around her ankles.

  Only fairground mirrors lie, the ones in your house are pretty honest and this one was telling Poppy Darke a ghastly truth. “Mum...” she shouted. “...I look like a right twerp!”

  “Well come downstairs so I can have a look at you.”

  Poppy plodded down the steps. “I’m not doing the cat walk thing and don’t ask me to do a twirl... So you can forget that one!”

  Mrs. Anne Darke had never seen her daughter in anything other than a ‘Hoody’ and jeans. “You look... Just beautiful! Like a proper little girl!”

  “So what you’re actually saying is that I’m not a proper little girl? I just look like one because I’m wearing these stupid clothes!”

  Her mum ignored the sarcasm; she was more than used to it by now. A gentle revenge is something good mums seldom give well behaved, respectful daughters. But on this occasion Mrs. Anne Darke couldn’t help herself and produced a box from behind her back. It was black and tied up with grey ribbons. “I’ve got a surprise for you.” She said, with the faintest of wry smiles on her face.

  The butterflies in Poppy’s stomach stopped mid-flight. “What is it?” somehow she just knew this wasn’t going to be anything good and the box was far too big to be a mobile phone.

  “It’s a pretty bonnet... A pretty school bonnet!” and then she added. “With ribbons... Pretty little ribbons.”

  “When you say ‘bonnet’, what do you mean exactly? And you keep saying the word ‘ribbons’...What are they?”

  Her mum held out the box. “Well open it and see... You’re going to look just...”

  “Like a proper little girl...Yes I know I heard you the first time!” She opened the box with the beginnings of a frown upon her face. “It’s a straw hat!” she said in a puzzled sort of way. “And you really expect me to wear this?”

  “School policy! Which you would know if you’d read the booklet they gave you.” Her mum was almost laughing as she returned into the kitchen for her coffee. “There could be another surprise for you when you get home!”

  Poppy didn’t bother asking what it could be and grudgingly said her goodbyes. Before leaving she stuffed the hat under two cushions on the settee and pulled a face at her mum while her back was turned.

  The morning air was crisp and fresh and the street was mostly empty except for the postman delivering mail and a man walking his dog. Poppy sighed wearily and rolled her eyes in disgust at her own fear. “Come on Poppy you can do this... What’s the worst that can happen?”

  Suddenly the door opened behind her. “Don’t forget this now, will you?” Her mum said and thrust a straw bonnet into Poppy’s hands.

  Twenty minutes later she found herself standing before the gates to St Michaels School for girls. As she miserably strolled up the long drive several cars passed her by on the school run, then a mini bus crawled by giving all of the girls on board enough time to pull faces at the stranger. The butterflies in her stomach had returned and Poppy anxiously licked her lips, wondering if she could face all of those children. The decision was a simple one; consumed with blind panic, she turned to run home and immediately collided with a cyclist.

  The rider screamed in terror as bike and pedestrian became one almighty tangled mess on the gravel drive. Papers and books which had been neatly piled in a basket fluttered, blew and scattered all over the field and the contents of a large shoulder bag now peppered the drive.

  Poppy groaned in pain as tears trickled down her cheeks. “You idiot... Why didn’t you look where you were going?” She hissed angrily and climbed to her knees. Standing up she noticed blood on her
elbow and grazes down her left arm. “My uniform is ruined... I hope you know that you’re paying for it!” She added and realizing that her forehead was also bleeding, wiped it with the back of her hand.

  The cyclist, sprawled out face down on the grass, didn’t move and she didn’t answer. Poppy gingerly prodded his or her side with her foot. “Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

  Suddenly she felt cold, then dizzy and finally everything went black as she feinted beside the cyclist.

  Chapter 9

  Poppy woke up some time later lying on her back under a blanket and looking up at a flickering strip light. She blinked twice as her eyes became accustomed to the brightness and wondered where she was. Looking to her right she saw a woman dressed in white uniform and sitting at a desk; she was slim with almond skin and long platted hair, almost down to her waist.

  “…Yes, she’s fine.” She said. “So we’ll expect to see you in about thirty minutes… OK see you then, bye!”

  Poppy waited until she had put the phone down. “Where am I?” She asked.

  The woman spun around in her swivel chair; she had one of those concerned smiles on her face. “You were involved in a little accident dear…You’re in the medical Centre at school.”

  Memories crashed back into her mind as images flashed in her head. “There was someone else! Are they alright?” She said and twisted around on the stretcher looking for another casualty. “They’re not… Not dead… Are they?”

  “You’ll be pleased to know that Ms. Craven is fine health, albeit slightly the worse for wear.”

  Poppy’s heart sank at the sound of that name, she hadn’t even made it through the school doors and she’d already assaulted the Head, and she was definitely going to be expelled for that. Her mum was going to go mad and say she did it on purpose; she’d be grounded for life or worse. “Ms. Craven? Unbelievable!” She sighed and began to feel slightly nauseous again.