Poppy Jenkins

by Clare Ashton

My dear Poppy. I wish could find you and talk to you. I don’t know where to begin or where I dare.

  Do you still think us the most ill-suited couple in the world?

  In many ways we are poles apart, it’s what I love about you. That you wake up and see the world as beautiful is a gift wonderful for me to witness. I wish only to be there for you and set the world to rights on your rare grey days.

  But we were both wrong about the place where my heart yearns to be.

  Growing up, I didn’t belong here, but when I left it was obvious I didn’t belong anywhere else. London was comfortable for me, living anonymously alongside others who didn’t belong. And I relished the easy friends, the culture and differences.

  When I returned, it came as a shock how much Wells meant to me: Emma’s shop and the studio where we played, her cooking that has influenced your own, your magical bedroom and the voyages we shared, and you. That was home, more than life with my parents, and it’s the reason I couldn’t return to Wells for so many years. There were too many blissful memories I had no right to enjoy any more.

  I hurt you and it’s taken a long time to accept I was wrong. And I understand if you are reticent to come to me. I remember all the reasons you gave in the square that night. You said you cannot trust me because there’s still a fracture where I broke your heart. It pains me every time I recall your words.

  I hope, in time, you can trust me. And I will wait, for as long as you need. Because there’s no-one else for me. There never has been, and there never will be.

  Every friend and lover failed to measure up to you. For a while, it annoyed me that I compared. But you’re a part of me and a part I cherish beyond everything else. When we are together, you not only complete me, you make me ten times the woman and a hundred times happier.

  All of this would be enough to make me content for the rest of my life. You are my home, my friend, a part of me, my history. But I also love you with a passion.

  The first moment I saw you, that day we met in Wells after years apart, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I could have enjoyed you all day: the lustre of your hair, the soft perfection of your skin, those deepest hazel eyes filled with kindness and joy. Life is vibrant and delightful when I see it reflected in those eyes. And when you smile, when I’m the cause of that sublime smile, there is no greater high.

  Your laugh moves me and your touch never fails to excite me. Your kindness is beyond compare.

  You said, if we started something it would have to be forever. I know this needs to be all or nothing for us, so I‘m offering you everything I have.

  Yours,

  Rosalyn

  Chapter 44.

  It took Poppy less than a second to read the two words in the note and decide her answer. She dashed from the bedroom, clattered down the stairs and burst into the main house where her mother peered up from the kitchen table.

  “How long ago?” Poppy shouted. “How long ago did she leave?”

  Her mother burst into a smile. “About an hour, sweetheart. She said she’d wait for you at home.”

  Poppy turned to run from the house but looked back wondering how much she needed to explain.

  “Go!” Emma waved. “Put her out of her misery.”

  Poppy laughed with fatigue, jubilation and desperation all at once and sprinted out the door.

  The evening light was fading from indigo to black night and only the stony grey of the lane glowed between the dark hedgerows for Poppy to find her way. She sprinted up the track, across the road and past the workers’ cottages, a route she’d scampered a thousand times in her energetic youth, but she’d never felt more ecstatic and driven than this evening. With the chance to see Rosalyn again she willed her legs to carry her faster.

  The luminous white hall was within a few strides when Poppy stopped. She looked to the lit windows, trying to imagine where Rosalyn waited. There were two on the ground floor, the kitchen and a sitting room, none on the second.

  Instinct drew her towards the woods and the path to the lodge. More cautious, she headed around the back garden and along the edge of the trees, wondering if she was right. As she peeped over the brow of the hill, she broke into an elated smile. Lights shone from the lodge, an orange beacon between the pine trees, and it had never been a more idyllic and welcoming sight.

  She ran through the meadow, filling her lungs and lifting her head high. She spread her arms wide and let the long, feathery grass tickle through her fingers.

  At the foot of the veranda steps she hesitated, gasping for breath. The doors were open and Rosalyn sat beside the stove, elbows on knees, head in hands, blonde hair cascading around her face.

  Poppy smiled, admiring and adoring the woman inside. She lightly trod up the steps and held the door frame. “Hi,” she whispered.

  Rosalyn looked up, her eyes wide with concern, and she stood up clasping her hands in front of her. Poppy had never seen her so nervous.

  “I thought…” Poppy said. “I wondered if you’d be here. It seemed more likely you meant this to mean ‘home’.”

  “Yes, I did,” Rosalyn stuttered and she took a tentative step forward. “I’m more comfortable staying at the lodge than the Hall. Always have been. And I’ve been renovating it.” She waved her hand to walls that were half coated with white paint. “I’ve kept the map and the flower prints, I know you love those, and the book cases are beginning to fill. A few of your favourites are here, but there’s plenty of room for more.” She hesitated. “I wanted to make it a home. For me…. For us…” She looked all the more afraid, meaning it as a question.

  Poppy stepped into the room, butterflies tickling inside. “I realised.”

  Rosalyn shuffled anxiously and took a deep breath. “You got my note?”

  “I did.” Poppy moved closer and beamed with joy. She took the note from her pocket and held it aloft in her fingertips.

  “And… And will you…?”

  She moved almost within reach of Rosalyn, shaking with excitement. “In a little while. When everything has calmed down.”

  Hope lit Rosalyn’s face. “But you’ll stay, here…?”

  Poppy stopped before Rosalyn and lifted trembling fingers to her cheek. “Forever, from this moment on.”

  Rosalyn stared into Poppy’s eyes, tears brimming from her overjoyed smile. She reached out to Poppy’s cheek and stroked a lock of hair from her face.

  “I love you, Poppy.”

  Poppy laughed gently. “I love you.”

  Rosalyn dabbed her on the forehead with a kiss and giggled with tearful happiness. Then, again, she kissed Poppy’s cheek and quickly on the other side. Then she lingered longer and more tenderly as she moved closer to Poppy’s lips.

  Poppy shut her eyes, luxuriating in the warm intimacy of Rosalyn’s presence, their mouths so near it felt they were already touching. But when the touch did come, it ignited Poppy instantly. Eager hands pulled her close. Their bodies sealed together, breast to soft breast, thighs between desperate thighs, Rosalyn’s hands urging them ever closer.

  Poppy’s head swirled as Rosalyn kissed across her cheek and sweetly ravaged her neck. Her body inflamed at Rosalyn’s fevered caress around her bosom, her skin prickling with desire and longing to her core. It was almost embarrassing how quickly she responded. Poppy leant away and looked apologetically at Rosalyn but saw the same craving in her eyes.

  “I want to take you to bed.”

  “Please,” Poppy whispered.

  Trembling fingers ran down Poppy’s arms and Rosalyn clasped her hand.

  “Come with me,” she said and drew Poppy around the sofa, into the corridor, up the attic stairs, never once lifting her gaze from Poppy’s eyes.

  They stood facing each other beside the bed, Rosalyn staring with trepidation and need.

  “You don’t know how I’ve longed for this.”

  “Yes I do,” Poppy murmured.

  Rosalyn held her arms around Poppy and with a deft movement eased the buttons of her dress undone
. She gently coaxed the garment down Poppy’s body and with eager hands threw her underwear away. Poppy inhaled sharply as she felt her clothes slide to the floor, her skin bare and alive.

  Paralysed by anticipation, she could only watch as Rosalyn unbuttoned her own shirt and slipped from her clothes to stand naked before her.

  She trembled as Rosalyn stepped forward, just an inch away. She stared down at Rosalyn’s beautiful skin, which promised to tantalise her own, the slim waist she yearned to pull close, thighs she wanted to slip inside. Her whole body tingled, alert, and excitement pulsed between her legs.

  Rosalyn’s soft fingers touched her waist and Poppy moaned and shut her eyes.

  Hands caressed the curve of her hips and she gasped. How quickly she succumbed to her.

  “Lie down,” Rosalyn murmured and Poppy kept her eyes shut, in thrall to her lover, and allowed herself to be guided to the bed.

  Poppy lay exposed for a moment, thrilling expectation quivering through her limbs. There was silence and she waited, aching for Rosalyn.

  Soft lips kissed her eyelids and Poppy giggled at the unexpected tenderness. Rosalyn lingered lovingly for a moment then lifted away.

  Silence again. Poppy’s mind raced and her body quickened, hungry for the next contact. She could feel where Rosalyn was looking. The warmth glided across her skin and a glow consumed her wherever she imagined Rosalyn’s presence.

  “Oh.” Her breasts. Rosalyn dabbed her breasts. And again. The tantalising touch was an exquisite tease. Poppy arched her back, longing for more.

  Again came a touch. A firm nipple pinched with excitement like her own. Then a longer soft caress of bosoms. An indulgent stroke. “More,” she moaned.

  Her unrestrained plea provoked a sharp inhalation from Rosalyn, and Poppy tensed at the sound of her arousal. Then warm lips slipped over her mouth and Rosalyn enveloped her as she eased her body over hers.

  Poppy threw her arms around Rosalyn’s shoulders and kissed with passion. She couldn’t touch her enough. She couldn’t hold her close enough.

  She felt Rosalyn’s soft fingers seduce down her belly, around her hips and Poppy trembled as they explored between her thighs. She desperately tried to keep kissing, but as the exploring fingers slipped between her legs Poppy arched her neck, throwing her head back in sheer delight.

  Fingers fluttered around her lips and she opened her legs wider, yearning for Rosalyn. Just a delicate flick of a finger and she gasped. A stroke around her aching centre and she clung harder to Rosalyn.

  “Touch me,” she moaned and tried to push herself onto Rosalyn.

  Sweet, soft fingers slipped over her clitoris and Poppy shuddered uncontrollably. She pulled Rosalyn’s head to her chest, tensing beneath her as Rosalyn indulged her with pleasuring touches.

  “Tighter,” Poppy begged. “Please hold me tight.” Rosalyn urgently slid her free arm beneath Poppy and enveloped her legs between her thighs, so they were joined the whole length of their bodies. She clung so tight they seemed inseparable.

  Poppy clasped Rosalyn’s face to where her heart beat with passion and love as she tensed, building and building. She teetered with exquisite gratification on the edge under Rosalyn’s caresses, until neither wishing nor able to hold on, she succumbed with an explosion of pleasure through every part of her body.

  Poppy lay gasping as she unwound from Rosalyn’s clasp onto the bed. She smiled and spread her arms across the duvet. When she opened her eyes, Rosalyn gazed at her with a mix of shock, arousal and awe.

  “You are so beautiful,” Rosalyn murmured.

  “You,” Poppy breathed. “You.” And she lifted her hand to stroke Rosalyn’s face, trailing her finger around her forehead, over her sculpted cheeks and gently over the full, parted lips. Poppy breathed deeply, recovering from her climax, and gazed at her beautiful lover who stared back intoxicated. “I can’t believe we’re here.”

  Anxiety rippled across Rosalyn’s forehead. “I know. I was so afraid you’d say no. I dreaded waiting until morning and you never coming. ”

  Poppy shook her head. “Nothing could have kept me away. Not now.”

  “Never let me go. I don’t want to spend a single moment longer apart from you.”

  Poppy looked at her with unafraid and boundless love. “Never. Not another second.”

  She pulled Rosalyn close again and kissed her lips tenderly, savouring the taste of the woman and the moment. She ran her fingers through Rosalyn’s hair cherishing the intimate presence of her lover.

  Poppy pulled away a fraction and regarded Rosalyn cheekily. “Now, Rosalyn Thorn. You have shamelessly seduced me twice.” She covered Rosalyn’s mouth with her finger before she could protest. “And it was with such efficacy it would have been humiliating if it wasn’t so heavenly.”

  Rosalyn’s look was quizzical.

  “I’m not letting you get away with that.”

  Poppy removed her finger but before Rosalyn could plead for clarification, Poppy rolled over and flipped Rosalyn on her back in a movement so swift it made Rosalyn yelp.

  Poppy sat astride her and peered down with a salacious grin. “It’s my turn.”

  And even if Rosalyn had any objections they were forgotten in a wave of arousal that made her moan and writhe into the sheets.

  “Now I…” Poppy placed her tongue at the top of Rosalyn’s chest. “I have been coveting your breasts for months.” She slipped down Rosalyn’s cleavage. “And I intend to appreciate them,” her fingers caressed her bosom, “fully this evening.”

  Rosalyn’s chest heaved with excitement.

  “Close your eyes,” Poppy commanded and she started a slow, delicious seduction, curving her way around Rosalyn’s breasts with a gentle kiss, a loving stroke, a thrilling nip and an enthralled devouring.

  She pushed Rosalyn back into the white duvet, exploring every inch of her body. Every tender spot was discovered and received besotted attention until Rosalyn lay shaking, desperate and begging. Only then did Poppy slide between her legs and, with tantalising deliberation and after teasing kisses, lick where Rosalyn felt most tender and desperate of all.

  And it wouldn’t be the last time that night.

  The next morning Poppy roused in slow delectable stages, basking in the afterglow of being loved and sated. She rolled across the bed beneath the sheets and encountered Rosalyn’s naked body. She snuggled into the hollow of Rosalyn’s back and sleepily luxuriated in their caressing nudity.

  But although her eyes were shut she realised it was bright. She blinked her eyes open in confusion. The bedroom was lighter than she expected and she squinted and lifted her head to look about. Between the abandoned garments, the far-flung bra and the discarded knickers, the floorboards were dusty. Fine grains and curling peels of wood lay around the edges of the room. Poppy’s eyes strained as she tried to make out the source of light, and when they finally adjusted she saw the cause.

  The result of much carpentry, and waiting its first clean, was a large porthole window overlooking the bright valley beyond. It was like her own but revealed a new wonderful landscape. She smiled, tears in her eyes.

  Rosalyn murmured beside her, still asleep, and Poppy covered her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh out loud with happiness, not wanting to disturb the beautiful woman beside her.

  Poppy lay down again and cuddled up a bit closer, sliding her arm between Rosalyn’s tummy and bosom. Poppy relaxed and soon her head began to float. She smiled as she drifted to sleep, just looking up once to check the note in looping handwriting on the bedside table, and that it still said “Marry me”.

  And that was the beginning of Poppy Jenkins’ happy every after.

  For the curious…

  And for those who ponder such things, Rosalyn and Poppy did have their wedding. What was meant to be a small affair, a private little ceremony in the castle, expanded to include much of the village out of genuine love for this most popular of couples. A grand picnic followed on the castle grounds, with sparkling wines and a ge
nerous spread, on the sunniest day of the year.

  Their children came after, every other year: a tall, fiercely intelligent girl, highly protective of her good-natured younger sister, and two strapping boys, with the stature of the donor and the good looks of their carpenter grandfather.

  Two sets of grandparents, a great-grandparent and doting aunt Pip were overjoyed with their growing family.

  One grey cloud, early in the years that followed, was the passing of Mr Morgan Morgan. His wife, Eleanor, was in mourning for a week, but then took on a sunnier disposition. She was one of the most elated and moved by Poppy and Rosalyn’s wedding. She sat at the front, snug next to Cerys Mathews, wearing every colour of the rainbow.

  ###

  Acknowledgements

  The period during which I write a book is a trying time for many. I forget birthdays, the house descends into chaos, the kids cling to my ankles crying out for a glass of milk, while I wander around the house lost in conversation with people who don’t exist.

  In particular for this book I need to apologise to the following people.

  To Diana Simmonds for badgering her for feedback every other second and I’m grateful for every bit of tinkering and attention the manuscript received. Now bugger off and finish that novel of yours – quick – I want to read it!

  Being a very British writer, and with the added flavour of Wales this time, I tested the limits of comprehension of two patient and fabulous romance writers from across the pond: Cindy Rizzo and Chris Paynter. Thank you both for your trusted feedback and encouragement and clever brains that weren’t baffled and befuddled by the vagaries of British idioms and terms.

  My family suffers most. Thank you to my multi-talented wife, both editor and designer, for putting up with her most awkward client, and hardest of all for living with a creature with writer’s angst.

  Thank you to my in-laws for creating the above wife, and apologies for her choice in spouse.

  Now, further apologies to all of the above for any remaining errors in the manuscript. If you are unfairly blamed for any short-comings, please refer the relevant critic to this passage: Clare Ashton is a bloody-minded author who ignores advice that is clearly superior in the eyes of the rest of the world and she has an uncanny ability to bugger things up.