Will You Remember Me?

by Amanda Prowse

  Turning the pages, Poppy came across some shots of her nan. One showed Dorothea on her wedding day, standing in a white satin wedding dress in her mum and dad’s back garden in Limehouse. Poppy had never known her great-grandparents, Joan and Reg, but she knew for a fact this was their garden. Dot had told her often enough. The young Wally had his arm around her waist and she was laughing at something in the distance. She looked beautiful. Poppy plucked it from the album and decided to give it to Simon. There was another shot of an older Dorothea in their little kitchen in Walthamstow, taken in the late seventies; she was holding a cup of tea and smiling into the camera. The table was set and she was sitting next to a little plate piled high with fondant fancies – must have been a celebration of some sort. It was before dementia had claimed her and her expression was reminiscent of the girl in the wedding photo. Poppy decided to take him this one too.

  Poppy thought how strange it would be for Simon to see pictures of the woman who had given birth to him and whom he had never known. The breath stopped in her throat when she pictured Max being in the exact same position in years to come. Poppy plucked a photo of her son and sank back on the pillows, holding it against her cheek.

  Nineteen

  It was a glorious summer afternoon. Poppy sat in a chair in the garden and let the sun warm her skin; she rolled up the sleeves of her white shirt and lifted the hem of her jeans to expose her shins, wiggling her bare toes against the grass. Closing her eyes, she listened to the bird song. It was a moment of calm before the madness of the weekend took hold. She flipped open the laptop and read the email from Simon and Kate. They had attached their tickets to travel, all confirmed for ten days’ time. She felt a rare bubble of excitement at the prospect of going away. It would be perfect: just the two of them, with time to talk and hold each other in the sunshine. Maybe they would sit on a beach and sip fresh pineapple juice under a tree – or maybe she had seen too many movies.

  She must have dozed off in her chair because she woke with a start when the front door banged shut. She stretched, eased herself into an upright position and made her way into the sitting room.

  ‘Hello, darling, have you had a good day? Bet you’re excited – it’s our big weekend!’ Poppy clapped.

  Peg stomped across the room, hung her cardigan and bag on the bannister and said, without preamble, ‘What’s for tea?’

  ‘Oh yes, I’m fine thanks, Peg, and how was your day?’ Poppy slumped down onto the sofa, exhausted by even the slightest exertion.

  ‘It was okay. Dad’s gone to the supermarket. He said I had to watch Maxy.’ Peg cleared the table of the pile of laundry that awaited folding and pulled out her reading book.

  Max roamed around the rug with a car in each hand.

  ‘Oh, good girl.’ Poppy nodded at her book. ‘Would you like me to listen to you read?’

  ‘If you like.’ Peg didn’t look up.

  ‘What’s up, love?’ Poppy could tell there was something on her daughter’s mind.

  ‘Nothing.’

  Poppy decided not to pursue the topic, figuring that sometimes Peg needed to be left alone with her thoughts, just like she did.

  Several minutes passed while Poppy read the local paper.

  In memory of Dusty, our much-loved Parson terrier, who went to sleep and didn’t wake up. He has been a loving, faithful companion to Marion and David. Dusty, we know you are now in doggy heaven, chasing rabbits again and running free. Goodbye, our little mate. You made our house a home and we will miss you every time we put the key in the door.

  Peg sat with her eyes on the page and her finger following the words. ‘Mum?’

  ‘Yes, love?’

  ‘Sometimes you can do something and it seems like a good idea and so you do it, but then when you think about it after you’ve done it, you realise that it might not be such a good idea after all, but because you’ve done it, it’s too late to undo it, no matter how much you wish you could.’

  Poppy stared at her little girl, unsure if she was being asked to confirm or discuss the statement. Instead, she said, ‘Well, that’s true, but at least if you are ever in a situation like that, you can talk to me or Daddy about it, right?’

  Peg nodded and turned her attention back to her reading book.

  Almost on cue, the phone rang. Poppy reached out and listened to the stranger’s voice on the other end. ‘Yes, I’m her mum… Oh hello, Jane… Yes, yes, I’ve seen you at school…’

  Peg put her head in the cradle of her arm on the table and waited.

  ‘Oh… Oh, I see… No, that’s fine, no problem… Righto, Jane. My husband, Martin, will pop over later and thanks so much for contacting me. I don’t know – kids!’ Poppy gave her false laugh and hung up.

  She walked over to the table and leant on the chair. ‘Peg?’

  Peg reluctantly looked up.

  ‘That was Maisie’s mummy. Is there anything you want to tell me about your scooter?’

  Peg looked up at the ceiling and considered her answer. ‘It got stolen.’

  ‘It got stolen?’ Poppy repeated, incredulous. ‘When?’

  Peg swung her legs back and forth and picked at the corner of her book. ‘At lunch time.’ Her cheeks were scarlet.

  ‘How do you know?’ Poppy was intrigued.

  ‘I saw it get stolen.’

  ‘You did? That must have been scary! Did you tell a teacher? Did you call the police?’

  Peg shook her head. ‘No, I was too shocked!’

  ‘I bet you were. Seeing something you love get stolen is definitely shocking. Who stole it?’

  Peg opened and then closed her mouth, her lips twisting to form sounds which she then rejected. She suddenly looked up at the TV, which as usual was fixed on the Cartoon Network. Max was playing in front of it on the rug, paying it little attention.

  ‘Batman,’ she announced.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Batman took my scooter.’ Peg looked at her lap.

  ‘What, the actual Batman? Blimey, I must say I’m shocked. I thought he was a force for good, not a scooter nicker. And who knew he was hanging around Larkhill! I didn’t even know he ventured that far from Gotham City.’

  Peg sucked in her cheeks, unsure if laughter would be appropriate right now.

  ‘Peg, what happened to your scooter? Truthfully. I don’t care about the scooter, but I do care about lying. It’s the worst thing.’

  Peg sighed as her bottom lip trembled with tears. ‘I swapped it.’

  Poppy nodded. ‘So I heard. At least that’s what Maisie’s mum said. What did you swap it for?’

  Peg hesitated for a second. ‘A pencil sharpener that looks like a rabbit.’

  ‘A pencil sharpener?’ Poppy couldn’t keep the shock from her voice.

  Peg nodded, enthusiastically. ‘A cool pencil sharpener that looks like a rabbit.’

  ‘In exchange for your scooter, your birthday present?’

  Peg nodded and chewed her bottom lip.

  ‘You know that was a silly thing to do, right?’

  ‘Yes, Mum. But it made Maisie very happy.’ Peg smiled.

  ‘I bet it bloody did.’ Poppy sighed and rubbed at her eyes. ‘Daddy is going to go and get your scooter back tonight. You can’t do things like that, Peg.’

  ‘I didn’t know if I was going to be in trouble or not. Jade McKeever said it would make Maisie pick me for her gang.’

  ‘Oh, good God, Peg, please stop listening to Jade Bloody McKeever, who, believe it or not, does not have all the answers in the universe. And what gang? Maisie has a gang?’ Poppy pictured the blonde girl with her hair in bunches and a penchant for frilly white ankle socks – hardly mobster material.

  Peg nodded. ‘They go to the back of the climbing frame and share sweets and Maisie gives out dares like making Phoebe say “I’ve seen your willy” to James Hillman in the dinner queue.’

  Poppy stared at her. ‘You want to be part of a gang that says “I’ve seen your willy”?’

  Peg shrug
ged. ‘Sometimes I do.’

  Poppy gazed at her little girl. Sometimes even she was lost for words.

  * * *

  It was Saturday, the day of the party. Poppy was once again taking refuge in the back garden, finding the house, as she often had recently, a little claustrophobic.

  Peg had her bath at 10 a.m. and put her new white dress on, along with her glittery pumps and her self-chosen plastic tiara. Poppy was still recovering from the purchase of the tiara and cringed every time she saw it. She had stood in the shop, presenting her daughter with an array of subtle pale roses that she could affix with a clip to the side of her head.

  ‘No, Mum! I want this!’ Peg had pointed at the hideous creation.

  Poppy had hoped she was joking. Sadly, she wasn’t.

  Peg finished the whole ensemble off with a thick smear of lurid pink lipstick, which was quickly transferred onto her dad’s face, her own arm and the corner of a cushion on the sofa. Now she stood in front of her mum on the grass and twirled around with her arms held out. The sun glinted off the sequins on her dress. Poppy smiled at her daughter, who literally sparkled.

  ‘You look like a princess.’

  ‘I feel like a princess, Mum!’ Peg said, before commencing her next set of twirls.

  After running and jumping all day, including a brief stint on the trampoline to see how high her skirt would go, Peg had fallen asleep in the same attire at 3 p.m. She woke up in a crumpled heap, with her tiara askew, looking like a drunken partygoer in the early hours trying to find her way home. Now, two hours later, as the Crickets prepared to gather in the lounge and wait for their taxi, Peg glided up and down the hallway on her scooter, with the skirt of her frock flowing behind her.

  ‘I love parties!’ she boomed as she rattled by. ‘Ouch!’ She hit the door, still not having quite got the hang of stopping without brakes.

  Martin led Max down the stairs.

  ‘Oh, Maxy, you look so cute!’ Peg cooed at her little brother. He was especially adorable in his turned-up navy trousers, new trainers, tiny white shirt and blue waistcoat that sat snug over his rounded tummy.

  Max couldn’t look up quite yet; he was busy counting the stairs.

  ‘You look nice too, Dad,’ she added for good measure, although as far as Peg was concerned, a dark suit was a bit boring. She wished he had followed her suggestion and dressed as a superhero.

  Poppy stood in front of the mirror in the sitting room and ran the brush through her hair for the fifth time. Having decided to leave it loose, the best she could do was make it shine. She pulled out the clumps that had gathered in her hairbrush and rolled them into a ball before throwing them in the bin. She had always been slim and, since having the kids, comfortable in her shape, but tonight, with her newly bony décolletage and greyed skin tone, she wanted to be as covered up as possible. She had chosen a rose pink water-silk frock. It might have been prim, with its high neck and nipped-in waist, covered buttons on the long sleeves and double cuffs, were it not for the kick to the bottom of the knee-length skirt and the layers of net in a slightly darker pink that protruded from the hem. Her kitten heels and silver-embellished clutch bag gave her the air of a fifties siren.

  Martin stood at the bottom of the stairs and stared at his wife. ‘Oh God, Poppy…’ He swallowed the lump in his throat. ‘You look… you look absolutely beautiful.’

  She turned and looked at him over her shoulder. ‘Thank you.’ Loving his sentiment, even if she didn’t quite believe it.

  ‘Dad! Give it to her now!’ Peg abandoned her scooter and jumped on the spot.

  ‘You think?’ Martin teased his daughter.

  ‘Yes! Go on, Dad!’ Peg stopped jumping and pushed her tiara back up onto the top of her head from where it had slipped.

  Martin lifted Max and the three gathered in front of Poppy.

  ‘What’s all this about then?’ Poppy was curious and slightly embarrassed.

  ‘Well, we can’t get you a kidney-shaped pool and it ain’t raining, so you can’t go out dancing in it…’

  ‘Wouldn’t want to anyway, it’d ruin me frock!’ Poppy laughed as she smoothed the skirt with her palm.

  ‘But we did get you a diamond.’

  ‘A really, really big one, Mum. The size of an ice cube!’ Peg was beside herself, squeezing her fingers into little fists.

  Martin reached into his pocket and produced a square silver box tied with a ribbon.

  Poppy sat on the sofa as Max climbed up next to her. She pinched the end of the ribbon between her thumb and forefinger and removed it, putting it to one side for safekeeping. It would go in Peg’s box of lovely things with the date and details written on it.

  She carefully opened the box and there, nestling inside, was a ring of huge proportions. The vast diamond sat inside an oval of smaller diamonds. Each of them caught the light and sparkled furiously. It was indeed the size of an ice cube.

  Poppy laughed. ‘Oh my word!’

  She wasn’t sure how she would wear it. It looked heavy. Thankfully, as she lifted it from the box, she realised it was as light as a feather.

  ‘It’s solid plastic, Poppy, but don’t worry, I’ve added it to the insurance.’ He winked at her.

  ‘It cost six pounds, Mummy!’ Peg yelled with excitement, despite standing less than a foot from her mum.

  ‘One ring for Mummy!’ Max chirped, before scrambling off the sofa to find a digger to cling to.

  Poppy felt the breath catch in her throat. ‘It’s beautiful, the most beautiful ring I have ever seen. I love it!’

  ‘I told you she wouldn’t like a smaller one.’ Peg folded her arms across her chest, victorious.

  ‘Give it here.’ Martin took the shiny bauble from her hand and dropped down onto one knee. He took her left hand in his and kissed her fingers. ‘Will you marry me, Poppy Day?’

  Poppy ran her fingers through his hair, her handsome man. ‘I’d marry you today and every day.’

  The two stared at each other, feeling the current of love and understanding flow between them. Both thought of their wedding day, the drinks in the pub, his mum tight-lipped with disapproval, hers pissed in the precinct and missing the service. Both thought of the journey that had led them to that point and both wished the outcome was going to be different.

  Martin slipped the ring onto the third finger of her left hand.

  Poppy flexed her fingers. ‘It looks lovely, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It really does,’ Martin echoed.

  Twenty

  The taxi pulled up outside the hall and Poppy could hear the beat of music – Abba. She gripped Martin’s hand as nerves filled her stomach. The team at the hall had been busy: pink and white balloons sat in clusters in the corners of the room and around the stage where the DJ stood behind his decks. There was a huge banner strung over the buffet table, saying simply, ‘Poppy and Martin’. The food was plentiful and varied. There were piles of sausage rolls and neat sandwiches with the crusts removed, slices of quiche and bowls of coleslaw and potato salad.

  ‘It all looks brilliant!’ Poppy beamed at her husband.

  ‘Here you go, madam.’ One of the bar staff leant forward with a small tray on which sat two flutes of champagne.

  Martin took one and sipped at it eagerly. ‘Thanks, mate.’

  Poppy held the delicate stem between her fingers and, raising the glass to her mouth, made as if she were taking a drink. She couldn’t drink alcohol, not on top of the multiple drugs that were daily engaged in the anti-pedalo mission.

  Martin smiled at her and bent close, whispering in her ear, ‘I’ll swap it for apple juice, how about that?’

  She nodded. ‘Thank you.’

  Poppy saw Claudia in the far corner. She looked beautiful in a dark green silk coatdress with her hair pinned up and just the right amount of jewellery sparkling at her neck and wrist. When Poppy caught her eye, Claudia rose and swept towards her.

  ‘You look lovely, Claudia.’

  ‘Oh, you can talk! You look
like a film star!’

  ‘Oh, bless you.’ Poppy kissed the woman who had become her kids’ granny and her own substitute mum. ‘Have you seen my new diamond?’

  ‘Ha! Have I seen it? Peg has shown it to me several times. It’s a whopper, isn’t it?’

  Poppy looked down at the huge rock. ‘It is that.’

  Claudia leant in towards her. ‘Word of warning, darling. I wore it for ten minutes and it turned my finger green. Beware!’

  The two women laughed.

  Claudia placed her arm across Poppy’s back. ‘Now, don’t get mad, I cleared it with Martin. I know you didn’t want me to help with the food, but he agreed that I could treat you to a cake.’

  ‘Oh, Claudia, you didn’t have to do that!’ They had decided not to bother with a fancy cake – besides, it would have blown their budget. Instead they had ordered individual cupcakes for everyone, which would double up as pudding.

  ‘I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. Come with me. I do hope you like it!’ Claudia clasped her hands under her chin.

  Poppy let Claudia hook her arm under hers and steer her to the back of the hall. There, in the middle of the square table, sitting on a silver plinth atop a pristine white cloth, was the most extraordinary cake she had ever seen.

  It had three tiers – the bottom was dark chocolate, the middle milk chocolate and the top white chocolate – and the surfaces of all three were blemish-free and glossy. Each tier was decorated with chocolate shapes: white chocolate on the bottom, milk on the top and dark in the middle. It looked shiny and inviting, far too nice to cut. Not for the first time, Poppy lamented the state of her taste buds.

  A chocolate flag stood proudly on the top, with ‘Love and Luck’ written inside the most beautiful scroll; her nan’s mantra. Poppy was touched that Claudia had remembered. At first she thought each tier was adorned with a coordinating ribbon, but these were in fact also made of chocolate. How the edges had been made that sharp and the lines so perfect, she had no idea.