Poppy couldn’t make out the growl of words that the recently awakened Frank issued at the suggestion. ‘Did Nan never mention it to you, Mum? I seem to remember her saying something to me before she died about a baby and his name was Simon, but as I said to Mart, I thought it was just her dementia talking. It’s quite amazing, isn’t it?’
‘If you say so, love.’ Cheryl took another drag on her ciggie. ‘How’s your lot?’
My lot… Poppy wondered if her mum could actually recall their names. She looked at her blond-haired boy, pushing a piece of toast around the table as if it were a vehicle; at her husband standing close by, concern etched on his face, waiting to mop up the fallout that inevitably followed any contact with her mother; and at Peg, who was mouthing ‘Tell her we’re getting a pet!’ She smiled at all the family she needed, all the family that she had ever needed.
‘They’re wonderful, really wonderful. I’ll let you go, Mum. Speak soon.’
‘Oh. All right, love. Merry Christmas.’
Poppy closed her eyes. It was January the second. ‘Yes. Merry Christmas.’
Martin sat down next to his wife. ‘Well, that was quick. Did you learn anything?’
Poppy ran her fingers over the fine script of Simon’s handwriting, hoping that he was part of a family that made him feel safe and secure and that he was loved by someone in the way that she loved Martin; unlike Cheryl, who sadly had neither. Maybe Martin was right: it was exciting.
‘I learnt that my mum hasn’t changed a bit, her latest beau is called Frank and apparently he snores. Oh, and my uncle, her brother, the vicar who she has no interest in seeing, is black. That about sums it up.’
Martin laid his hand over his wife’s. ‘Wow!’
‘Yep,’ Poppy confirmed. ‘Wow.’
4
Peg raced ahead into the store as Poppy and Martin strolled at the pace of the pushchair-free Max, who was following slowly in her wake. By the time they caught up with her, she was chatting to Jackson, who was resplendent in his uniform polo shirt and baseball cap; he was apparently an expert on small pets, if the badge on his shirt was anything to go by. Poppy caught the tail end of Peg’s introduction.
‘So, any of them would be good, really. By the way, my mum’s uncle is black too, but I’ve never met him and he never actually met his mum, who is dead now, because he was born out of wedlock.’ Peg smiled.
Poppy stared at Martin. Out of wedlock? Where on earth had she got that?
Jackson turned to Poppy with a look close to fear in his eyes.
‘Hi, Jackson.’ Poppy repeated the name on his badge. ‘Sorry about my daughter, she is full of useless bits of information. The important thing is, we are here to get a pet.’
‘Yes, she said.’ He glanced briefly at Peg. ‘Although I’m not sure we can help.’
‘No? Oh, that’s a shame. We thought it would be quite straightforward.’ Poppy looked at the rows of cages and tanks that seemed to be crammed full of tiny animals all wanting to come and live in their house. She wondered if Peg had offended him in some way.
‘It is usually quite straightforward, but we don’t have otters, badgers or baby lion cubs here.’
‘Peg!’ Poppy shouted. ‘We’ve told you, a guinea pig or nothing. Sorry, Jackson.’
He shrugged; it obviously wasn’t the strangest request he’d ever had.
Peg bounced a pet ball she had found on the floor. ‘I was only asking!’
Peg had to be prised away from Toffee at bedtime. He was apparently the best thing she had ever had, ever! ‘Even better than Maxy!’ Poppy and Martin decided to ignore the last bit.
Poppy sat on the sofa with her head on Martin’s shoulder. The lamplight made everything look cosy. He poured them both a large glass of wine, which they nursed as they chatted, their stockinged feet stretched out and resting on the coffee table.
She stroked her husband’s forearm. ‘This is nice.’
‘Oh, it’s more than nice. It’s everything. When I’m away, I dream of sitting on this sofa with you next to me, sharing a bottle.’
Poppy snuggled closer. ‘I feel sad that Nan couldn’t tell me about her baby sooner, couldn’t tell anyone.’
Martin nodded. It was sad.
‘I would have helped her find him, or something, I don’t know. Or at least tried to make her feel better about everything.’
‘I don’t think there would have been a lot you could have said, love. She must have carried it with her always.’
‘I know and I can’t imagine what that must have been like. If I think of not seeing Maxy, God, even the idea of it is horrible. It must have ripped her in two.’ Poppy gulped her wine, enjoying the warmth it produced in her throat and chest. It soothed the ache that had appeared suddenly, at the idea of not being there every night to tuck her son into bed and every morning to kiss him when he stumbled into her arms, crumpled and groggy from sleep.
‘Do you think that’s why she was a bit…’ Martin verbally tiptoed, trying to find the right word. ‘Eccentric?’ he settled on.
Poppy smiled at him, knowing he had wanted to say ‘loopy’. ‘Who knows? It can’t have helped, can it? Keeping secrets like that can’t be good for anyone and if she was hurting as well for all those years… That’s enough to send anyone a bit eccentric.’
‘Are you going to contact him?’
‘I think so. I just don’t know what to say. I’m working up to it.’
‘Do it now! While you’ve got some Dutch courage.’ Martin clinked his glass against hers.
‘Oh, yes, that’ll be good, me half cut. He’ll think I’m as bad as me mother.’
Martin laughed. ‘You are in no way, not one single bit, like your mother.’ He shuddered at the comparison.
‘I think I’ll wait a bit, Mart, before I call him. Get my head round the idea and think about what I should say. It feels like a big deal and I want to get it right.’
‘It is a big deal!’ he confirmed. ‘It’s not every day a new uncle turns up.’
‘You don’t think there are more of them waiting to leap out of the woodwork do you?’ Poppy looked aghast at the prospect.
‘Well, if there is, mate, we are definitely going to have to start budgeting better for Christmas. All those pairs of socks and chocolates can really mount up.’
Poppy laughed. ‘I think that’s what Danny’s got waiting for him when he comes home. Jo’s bought up half of Marks and Sparks.’
‘It must be rotten not having kids to buy for when all you wanted was to be a mum,’ Martin said.
‘I know; rotten for both of them. I feel sorry for her really. I’ve told her that you can’t have everything and that she and Danny are lucky: no sicky kids in the middle of the night, no early starts when all you want is another five minutes in bed. They can be spontaneous! Go to the cinema or even on holiday. We can’t do any of that. I said she was lucky in some ways.’ Poppy sipped her wine.
‘And did she believe your lies?’ Martin pulled her towards him.
‘I don’t know.’
‘You wouldn’t swap broken nights and early starts for a day without them, would you?’
Poppy thought again of Dorothea having to give up her little boy. ‘No. No, I wouldn’t, Mart, not one single day.’
‘Poor Jo.’
‘Yep, poor Jo.’
They both jumped as Toffee moved in his cage; they had forgotten he was there. They giggled as they hugged each other; a hug that led to kissing and kissing that led to them creeping up the stairs and pulling the chest of drawers across their bedroom door, which they routinely did whilst simultaneously shedding their clothes and giggling into their palms.
Poppy left Martin snoring and quietly descended the stairs, knowing she wouldn’t be able to nod off until her chores were finished. The kitchen needed a bit of a tidy; she liked to plump the cushions before she went up so it was just so in the morning; and she wanted to put the rubbish in the wheelie bin. She laid out Peg’s clean uniform on the dining tabl
e, ready for the first day back at school, and placed her little rucksack next to the front door. Martin was going to take her in tomorrow as per her request. Poppy didn’t mind a bit, she knew the novelty of having her daddy home wasn’t going to wear off anytime soon.
Poppy slipped into the bathroom and ran the shower, letting the water run over her head. Poor Jo. She felt a jolt of sadness for all the things her mate missed by not having kids. It seemed unfair that there were women like Jo who longed for children and women like Cheryl who conceived with ease but then didn’t want them when they arrived. There was so much her mum missed. Simon would be one more thing to add to the list, along with family birthdays, Christmases and a place in her children’s hearts.
Poppy was distracted, thinking alternately about Peg’s packed lunch, the mysterious Simon and the fact that he lived in a warm, sunny climate on the other side of the world while his mum had never left London. She wondered if Dorothea would have liked to have gone somewhere hot and exotic.
Suddenly, her thoughts crystallised. With clarity and poise, she stood upright and held her breath. For there, beneath her soapy hand, sitting in the gap between her breast and her armpit, was a little lump.
It made her jump, so odd and unexpected was the discovery. She ran her hand over her breast and shoulder, before snaking back to where it was sited. Yes, there it was. Her heart skipped a beat.
‘What the…?’ she murmured into the steam.
Poppy felt it beneath her fingers, squeezed it and skimmed it with the flat of her hand, making sure she hadn’t imagined it, seeing if it might move. It didn’t. She then checked on the other side of her torso, hoping to find the little mound mirrored on the opposite side of her body, making it nothing out of the ordinary but simply a little part of herself that she had previously been unaware of. Hidden. Like one of Jupiter’s regularly revealed new moons, or the flabby whalefish discovered in New Zealand at the bottom of the ocean – always there, just undiscovered. Maybe this was like that, a little nub that had always been present but that she had somehow missed, nothing to worry about.
She raised her arm above her head as her hopeful fingers systematically explored the white skin beneath it, inching across the area from her chest to her ribs. Poppy swallowed the disappointment. There wasn’t one on the other side. Nothing, no matter how vigorously she searched.
Instinctively she went back to the lump. She felt a little faint and realised that she was still holding her breath. She exhaled and leant her head on the shower door.
This little thing, no bigger than a baked bean, was large enough to leave her shivering inside the cubicle despite the water temperature, which was if anything a fraction too hot. It was a small nodule but it left Poppy feeling sick with foreboding. The bean-sized lump was already casting a shadow the size of a boulder over her and her family.
Poppy turned off the water and climbed out of the shower cubicle, then wrapped herself in the one big bath towel they owned, a huge sheet that had been a present from Claudia the previous year. She wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at her reflection.
Instantly, Poppy saw a face looming over her shoulder. Her nan’s face. She was smiling and gave a little nod before she spoke. ‘The world keeps turning, girl. Life goes on.’
And Poppy knew, just like that. She knew exactly how the story of this little lump would unfold. She touched her fingers to the node and gazed at the mirror as Dot disappeared into the ether. Her nan was right: the world would keep on turning, no matter what.
Poppy turned and looked around the empty bathroom before placing her hand on the space in the mirror where her nan had appeared. She let out a deep sigh.
Available now
Acknowledgements
Thank you to Jo Ward, to whom I dedicated this book. She has always been there for me, a brilliant mum to Luke and Alice, a great sister, fabulous aunt and a lovely friend. She is celebrating a rather big birthday – I was going to write her a poem, but the only words I could think of that rhymed with her not-to-be-mentioned age were Twixty, Flixty and Blixty, which I don’t think are actual words!
We love you Jo – Happy Birthday!
About this Book
As a child, Meg always dreamed of the perfect Christmas…
This year, she can make it come true for her own little boy. There will be turkey and all the trimmings, a glittering tree, and a stocking hung up by a roaring fire. Who cares if there’s no devoted husband in the picture? She and Lucas will be just fine on their own.
But then a chance meeting with a stranger in New York unravels everything she’s planned. Will Meg finally get everything she wished for? Or will she be alone this Christmas after all?
Reviews
‘A cracking page-turner’
The Bookseller
‘This story of a woman’s fight to rebuild her shattered life is captivating, heartbreaking and superbly written.’
Closer
‘An absolutely gripping read… the characterisation is done superbly.’
Iain Dale, LBC Radio
‘Great novel – let’s get it to number 1!’
Gok Wan
‘Poppy Day is a brilliant book, I couldn’t put it down.’
Carol Vorderman
‘A rattling good book to curl up on the sofa with, I thoroughly recommend Poppy Day by army wife Amanda Prowse. She has turned her own fear and anxiety into a page-turning novel of loss and courage.’
Lorraine Kelly, The Sun
‘A modern day love story.’
Daily Mail
‘A deeply emotional story of a woman who will stop at nothing to save the man she loves… A fast, unputdownable read, Amanda Prowse adeptly fuses a tale of love and courage with the stark realities of war, both on the field and at home.’
Red
‘This romantic story of courage and determination is simply captivating.’
Closer
‘Army wife turns fear into fiction.’
Sunday Mirror
‘Set to become a bestseller.’
RAF News
‘Heartbreaking, but uplifting.’
Carol Vorderman
About the Author
AMANDA PROWSE has always loved crafting short stories and scribbling notes for potential books. Her ambition is to create stories that stop people turning off the bedside light, with characters that stay with you long after the last page is turned.
Amanda’s first novel, Poppy Day, was self-published in October 2011 and achieved a #1 spot in the eBook charts. She was then signed up by publishers Head of Zeus and her second novel, What Have I Done?, became a #1 bestseller in 2013, and gained rave reviews from readers.
Amanda lives in the West Country with her husband Simeon, a soldier, and their two sons Ben and Josh. She has now published five novels and four short stories, which share a common theme of ordinary women doing extraordinary things for love. After many years, she finally has her dream job – a full-time writer.
You can follow Amanda on Twitter @MrsAmandaProwse, become friends with her on Facebook, or visit her website www.amandaprowse.org
About No Greater Love
Amanda Prowse’s No Greater Love sequence is a series of contemporary stories with love at their core. They feature characters whose histories interweave through the generations: ordinary men and women who do extraordinary things for love. They are stories to keep you from switching off the bedside lamp at night, stories to remember long after the final page is turned...
1. Poppy Day
Ever since hairdresser Poppy Day married her childhood sweetheart, Mart, she’s been deliriously happy. Now Mart is fighting in Afghanistan, and Poppy is counting the days until he returns.
It takes one knock at the door to rip Poppy’s world apart. Mart has been taken hostage, and it’s too dangerous for the army to rescue him.
Poppy is determined to bring him home herself. But her journey will lead her to a heartbreaking dilemma. What price will she pay to save the m
an she loves?
This is a gripping story of loss and courage from an author who knows what it is like to be the one left behind.
Poppy Day is available here.
Jump to free preview here.
2. What Have I Done?
Kathryn Brooker is the headmaster’s wife. While her husband spends his days disciplining unruly teenagers in the grand halls of Mountbriers Academy, Kathryn spends hers baking scones for her son’s cricket match in a beautiful cottage in the manicured school grounds.
In the evenings, when her husband strides home to compliment her cooking and kiss her hello – ignoring jokes from their children about grown-up lovebirds – Kathryn Brooker is the very picture of a fulfilled wife and mother. Anyone who peered through the downstairs sash window at the four figures sat easily around their scrubbed-pine kitchen table would see a happy family without a care in the world. They would envy Kathryn her perfect life.
But they would be wrong. Kathryn is trapped in a nightmare. And she is about to do something to change it. Something only a truly desperate woman would do…
What Have I Done? is available here.
Jump to free preview here.
3. Clover’s Child
When eighteen-year-old Dot meets Sol, she feels that love has arrived at last. Solomon Arbuthnott is a man who can bring colour and warmth to her drab life in sixties London – and what’s more, he is a young, handsome soldier with excellent prospects. Someone who wants to give her everything she has dreamed of. Someone who can promise her blue skies, laughter, sun and always, always love.
And for a while, life is truly like a song. They stroll hand-in-hand by the Serpentine, dance cheek-to-cheek in Soho’s smoky bars, and begin to plan their idyllic future, growing old together in Sol’s ancestral home on the island of St Lucia.
Christmas for One: No Greater Love Page 35
