by Lily Baxter
It might not have been the best beginning to a party, but the ice was broken and as the beer and sherry went down, the conversation picked up. Mabel handed round meat paste sandwiches and slices of Victoria sponge cake. Auntie Dottie nibbled a sandwich having first opened it up and inspected the filling. ‘Couldn’t you get any tinned salmon, Mabel? We always had salmon and cucumber sandwiches at family weddings.’
‘No, Auntie. They’d run out at the Home and Colonial.’
‘You should try Waitrose, dear,’ Auntie Ida said, helping herself to cake. ‘I always shop there and have my order delivered.’
‘Stop showing off, Ida,’ Mrs Tanner said, scowling. ‘I expect you get stuff on the black market anyway. I reckon that Fred’s one of them spivs you hear talked about on the wireless; making money out of other people’s hardship.’
‘Hold on, Maggie,’ Fred protested, gulping down a tot of brandy from a bottle that Joe had found at the back of the cupboard. ‘I’m no spiv. I’m an auctioneer and businessman.’
‘Same thing,’ Mrs Tanner muttered. ‘Fill me glass up, Joe.’
‘Have you tried the cake, Poppy?’ Mabel wafted the plate under her nose. ‘I made it myself. I couldn’t get any fat so I used liquid paraffin. It rose a treat in the oven. Do have a bit before the gannets eat the lot.’
‘Thanks, it looks lovely.’ Dutifully, Poppy took a slice. She bit into it and managed a smile. ‘It’s super. You’d never know the difference, Mabel.’ She tried not to think of the feather-light sponges that Mrs Toon made without the aid of liquid paraffin, or the warm scones straight from the oven served with homemade raspberry jam.
It was getting dark, and the blackout curtains had to be drawn before Mabel switched on the light. The sandwiches had been consumed and there were only a couple of slices of cake left on the plate. Joe’s crate of brown ale was emptying fast and the level in the sherry bottle had gone down considerably. Uncle Fred went out to his car and returned with a bottle of gin and another of whisky. ‘Go easy on the measures,’ he told Joe in a low voice. ‘Dennis got me these.’ He tapped the side of his nose and winked.
There was a sudden lull in conversation and Dennis leapt to his feet. ‘Come on, folks, this is a wedding, not a wake. Let’s have some music.’ He limped over to a small upright piano that stood in the corner shrouded in a chenille cloth. ‘The old harp in a coffin,’ he said, laughing loudly. ‘Any requests?’ Without giving anyone time to answer he sat on the piano stool and began a rendering of ‘Roll out the Barrel’ with more enthusiasm than artistic merit.
Joe pushed the settee back against the wall and moved the armchairs into the bay window. He took the cake plate from Mabel and put it down on the table. ‘May I have this dance, Mrs Brown?’
‘Ooer, that doesn’t half sound good,’ Mabel said, flinging her arms around his neck. ‘Delighted, I’m sure, Mr Brown.’
‘There’s nothing like a good wedding, I say,’ Auntie Ida said, draining her glass. ‘Get us a drop of mother’s ruin, love.’ She held it out to Poppy. ‘Two fingers of gin and a dash of water.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Poppy went to fetch the bottle from the table.
Dottie nudged her elder sister. ‘Ain’t she got lovely manners, Ida? That’s what comes of living with toffs.’
Ida peered at Poppy through narrowed eyes as if she were having difficulty in focusing. ‘Yes, I heard you’d been evacuated to the country, dear. Nice place, is it?’
‘Very nice.’ Poppy poured the gin, guessing the amount, and added a splash of water. She handed it to Auntie Ida. ‘I hope that’s to your liking.’
‘So tell us about the people who took you in.’ Auntie Ida patted the empty seat on the settee. ‘Sit down, dear. We want to know everything.’
Next day Poppy made the return journey to Dorset. She had left Ilford early in the morning and arrived at Barton Lacey station late in the afternoon. Trains had been cancelled or simply delayed. She was tired and hungry and it was a good two-mile walk to Squire’s Knapp. This time there was no Jackson waiting for her in the Bentley and she had no other option than to go on foot. By the time she reached the house she had blisters on both heels and her small suitcase felt as though it was packed with bricks instead of a change of clothing and her toothbrush.
It was teatime and there was no one about on the estate. The sky was dark with rainclouds and the house looked shuttered and grey. The blackout curtains had already been drawn in the downstairs rooms and the front door was locked. She made her way round through the stables hoping to see one of the girls, but again there was no sign of life other than Goliath poking his great head over the stable door and whickering gently. She went to him and stroked his head, tickling his ears, which was what he seemed to enjoy most, but the rain had started in earnest and she hurried across the cobblestones to enter the house through the scullery. Again she seemed to have mistimed her arrival through no fault of her own. The table had been cleared and Cora, the girl from the village who had been hired to help out in the kitchen after Nancy’s sudden departure, was sweeping the floor.
‘Where is everyone?’ Poppy asked, setting her case down on the floor and warming her hands in front of the range.
‘Gone out. There’s a film show in the village hall.’ Cora continued sweeping.
‘Is Mrs Carroll at home?’
Cora frowned, leaning on the broom. ‘I think she wants to see you. That’s right, she does. You’re to go to the study as soon as you get here, that’s what she said. I remember now.’
‘Thanks.’ Picking up her case with a sigh, Poppy went in search of Mrs Carroll. She tapped on the study door.
‘Come.’
Mrs Carroll’s voice did not sound too inviting. She was leafing through a pile of papers and she did not look up when Poppy entered the room.
‘You wanted to see me, Mrs Carroll?’
Marina glanced at her, unsmiling. ‘Yes. take a seat.’ She set the documents aside. ‘How old are you now?’
Surprised by the sudden question and Mrs Carroll’s apparent loss of memory, Poppy sat down on the nearest chair. ‘Fourteen. I’ll be fifteen next April.’
‘Now that you’ve been reunited with your brother and he is a married man, you have a family of your own again. You’re too old to be kept here as an evacuee but you’re much too young to be taken on as a land girl. I know that’s what you wanted, but I’m afraid it’s impossible.’
‘But I do the same work as the other girls, ma’am.’
‘Nevertheless, I’d be flouting the law if I allowed you to continue. I overlooked your age in the past because you were orphaned and homeless, but now everything has changed, and I have no alternative but to send you home.’
Poppy stared at her aghast. ‘But it isn’t my home. I hardly know Mabel and her mother. Joe has gone back to his regiment and you promised Mum that I could stay here.’
‘That was a long time ago. Amy was paying for your schooling and you were helping to look after my grandson.’
‘But I can still look after Rupert. I love him and he loves me.’
Marina frowned. ‘Sentimental nonsense. I don’t doubt that you’re fond of the boy and he likes you, but then a two-year-old loves anyone who makes a fuss of them. Anyway, your room will be occupied by a professional nanny whom my daughter has employed to look after her son, and she will be starting at the beginning of next week. I’ve written a glowing reference for you to give to any future employer, and I’ve sent a telegram to your sister-in-law telling her to expect you tomorrow evening. I’m sorry, Poppy, I know you’ve settled down here and you’ve been very little trouble during your stay, but I have no choice. I wish you every success in the future, but you will leave Squire’s Knapp in the morning.’
Chapter Eleven
‘IT’S NOT BLOODY fair,’ Edie said, hooking her arm around Poppy’s shoulders. ‘Mrs C is an old bat and I don’t care who hears me say so.’
‘Hush, keep your voice down.’ Jean glanced anxiously up and down the
railway platform. ‘You’ll get us all sacked if you don’t watch your tongue.’ She patted Poppy on the cheek. ‘Not that I disagree with Edie. We’ll miss you terribly.’
Mavis came hurrying through the ticket hall clutching a bar of chocolate which she thrust into Poppy’s hands. ‘I used all my coupons for this, so don’t go sharing it around. It’s for you and you alone, love.’ Pushing Edie aside, Mavis gave Poppy a hug. ‘I can’t believe you’re leaving us.’
Close to tears, Poppy sniffed. ‘I don’t want to go, but she said I’m too young to be a land girl.’
‘She makes me sick,’ Edie said bitterly. ‘The old hypocrite. She was happy enough to let you slog away when it suited her, and play nanny to young Rupert, but now she’s no use for you you’re chucked out with the bath water.’
‘Isn’t that throwing the baby out with the bath water?’ Mavis said with a puzzled frown.
‘Don’t be so literal.’ Jean slipped her arm around Poppy’s shoulders. ‘We think it’s a crying shame, and we’ll miss you like billy-o.’
‘I’ll write to you,’ Poppy said, sniffing. ‘And you must write and tell me everything that’s going on. Tell Algy to send my love to Amy, because I haven’t got an address for her. I asked Mrs Carroll but she kept forgetting.’
‘Typical,’ Jean snorted. ‘Never mind. I promise to mention it to Algy, if I ever see him again. We’re not an item …’
‘Just good friends,’ Edie and Mavis chanted in unison.
‘Shut up,’ Jean said without malice. ‘Anyway, here comes your train, Poppy.’
Amidst tears and hugs, Poppy somehow managed to board the London-bound train. She let the window down and leaned out waving until they were out of sight. She picked up her suitcase, slung her gas mask over her shoulder and trudged through the corridors in search of a non-smoking compartment. After being buffeted about and doing an involuntary cake-walk as she crossed the concertina-like area where the carriages were joined together, she found an almost empty compartment next to the guard’s van. A young woman in Wrens uniform was asleep in the far corner next to the window and a thin woman with a baby in her arms was seated opposite, staring blankly out of the window while her child slept. No doubt she was grateful for the rest, Poppy thought sympathetically. The poor soul looked exhausted.
Poppy settled down by the window next to the corridor and closed her eyes but she could not sleep. All she could think of was Squire’s Knapp which had become her home, and the friends she was leaving far behind. If only Guy had been there he would have stood up for her. He would have seen how well she had looked after the horses and appreciated how hard she had worked on the farm. He would not have allowed his mother to send her away. Neither would Amy, who had done so much for her in the past, but at least she was safe in Singapore.
Poppy smothered a sigh and unwrapped the chocolate bar, breaking off a square and popping it into her mouth. The sweet scent of cocoa and cream had the effect of waking the Wren and the woman with the baby looked up, showing a spark of interest for the first time. ‘I can’t eat it all,’ Poppy lied, breaking the bar into chunks and offering it round. ‘Do have some. I don’t want to make myself sick.’
‘Ta, I don’t mind if I do,’ the thin woman said, smiling.
‘Go on then,’ the Wren said, taking a square of chocolate. ‘I never could resist anything sweet. My name’s Sally, by the way. What’s yours?’
‘I’m Poppy Brown, and I’ve got sandwiches too. Mrs Toon made enough to feed an army. Would you like one?’ She passed round the packet of cheese and pickle sandwiches and Sally produced a Thermos flask of tea which they also shared. The thin woman, whose name was May, had three apples in a brown paper bag, although both Poppy and Sally said they were too full to take advantage of her offer. Exchanging knowing glances with Sally, Poppy thought privately that the apples were probably the only food that May was likely to get that day. They parted at Waterloo in a spirit of camaraderie and went their separate ways.
Feeling as though she had been travelling for days, Poppy arrived at the house in Ilford just as Mabel was setting the table for tea.
‘Well this is a turn up for the books,’ Mabel said cheerfully. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon, Poppy. When I got the telegram from that posh woman you could have knocked me down with a feather. I thought you was set to stay there for the duration.’
‘So did I,’ Poppy said tiredly. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’
Dropping a knife with a clatter, Mabel enveloped her in a warm embrace. ‘Of course I don’t, ducks. You’re my Joe’s sister and part of the family. You’ll have to put up with Ma, who isn’t such a bad old stick when you get to know her, but we’ll rub along nicely, I’m sure.’
‘I heard that,’ Mrs Tanner said, glowering at Mabel. ‘And who’s going to pay for her keep, I’d like to know? Make sure you get her ration book off her.’
Poppy fished in her pocket and handed her ration book to Mabel. ‘I’ll go out tomorrow and look for a job. I won’t be a burden to you.’
Mabel’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘Oh, love. Don’t talk like that. You’re a good kid and I’m glad to have your company.’
‘There is a war on,’ Mrs Tanner said grimly.
‘I’ll find something, even if it’s scrubbing floors.’
Mabel laid her hand on Poppy’s arm. ‘Tell you what; I do a cleaning job at the hospital. Perhaps they’ll have something for you too. I’ve seen plenty of young ’uns doing all sorts of things from running errands to helping the nurses. I’m sure they’ll be glad to have you.’
‘I always wanted to be a nurse when I was little,’ Poppy said with a sigh. ‘But I’d need more qualifications, which I could have got if I’d stayed on at school.’
Mabel nodded sympathetically. ‘Never mind, ducks. Sit down and have something to eat. You’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep. Let’s hope the blooming siren doesn’t go off tonight.’
‘Even if it does I’m not getting into that damn Morrison shelter again, Mabel.’ Mrs Tanner emphasised her words by striking the floor with her stick. ‘I’ll take me chances in me own bed. Bloody Hitler.’
Largely due to Mabel’s efforts, Poppy was taken on as a cleaner at the local hospital. She scrubbed floors, cleaned sinks, basins and lavatories, and returned home each day with rough reddened hands and the smell of disinfectant clinging to her clothes and hair. She was too young to train as a nurse but at the suggestion of one of the ward sisters she joined the Red Cross as a cadet, spending three or four evenings a week attending classes in first aid, home nursing, hygiene and even ARP training. In the winter evenings she not only had to contend with wind, rain and bitter cold, but also the blackout, which made the walk to and from the church hall where the classes were given quite hazardous. Sometimes it was impossible to see her hand in front of her face, and the newspapers said that the number of road traffic accidents had doubled despite strict petrol rationing. As the winter progressed, Poppy was beginning to feel like a mole. She left for work in the dark and returned home after dusk. She rarely had time to stop and look out of the windows at the hospital, unless she was cleaning them, and on her day off she slept.
A few days before Christmas, on a Sunday when Mabel’s off duty happened to coincide with Poppy’s, they had just finished washing the dishes after lunch when Mrs Tanner called out from the front room where she had retired to take her afternoon nap.
‘Come and look, Mabel. There’s a bloody big limousine pulled up outside.’
Mabel and Poppy hurried into the room to peer out of the window.
‘It’s chauffeur driven,’ Mabel said in an awed tone. ‘Maybe the King and Queen have invited themselves to tea?’
‘Well, I hope they like fish paste,’ Mrs Tanner said grimly. ‘And liquid paraffin gives me the runs.’
Poppy’s hand flew to her mouth as she recognised the car. Unless she was very much mistaken it belonged to the Pallisters, and when Harper stepped out to open the doo
r she knew she was right.
‘Good heavens. Just look at that coat.’ Mabel grabbed Poppy by the shoulder, pushing her towards the window. ‘That’s mink or I’m a Dutchman.’
‘It’s Mrs Pallister.’ Poppy hurried to the front door and opened it in time to see Pamela picking her way daintily over the cracks in the concrete path.
She looked up, twisting her scarlet lips into a smile. ‘Hello, Poppy.’ She turned to the chauffeur. ‘Bring the basket, Harper. This is the right house.’
‘Come in,’ Poppy said, standing back to allow Pamela to step inside. The chauffeur had dutifully followed her up the path carrying a wicker basket which he handed to Poppy with a smart salute.
‘Thanks,’ she murmured. ‘Won’t you come in and have a cup of tea?’
‘Harper will wait in the car,’ Pamela said firmly. ‘Close the door, Poppy. Your neighbours are staring at me. I can feel the fluttering of net curtains from here.’
Somewhat reluctantly, Poppy closed the door on Harper. She remembered the kindness that Jackson had shown her when she was ignored by everyone else at Squire’s Knapp. If she lived to be a hundred she knew she would not be able to treat servants like lesser beings. She eyed Pamela warily, thinking that she looked distinctly out of place in her mink coat and matching hat. The crocodile-skin handbag that she clutched in her gloved hands was certainly not imitation, and her stockings were silk. No gravy browning for Mrs Hector Pallister.
‘Are you going to keep me standing in the hall, Poppy? I thought we’d taught you better manners at Squire’s Knapp.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m just so surprised to see you, Miss Pamela.’
‘Mrs Pallister. I’ve told you a dozen times if I’ve told you once.’ Pamela turned to look at Mabel, who was standing in the doorway, staring at her in amazement. ‘And you are?’
‘Mrs Brown, madam. I’m Poppy’s sister-in-law. Do come into the sitting room and make yourself comfortable. I’ll put the kettle on.’ Mabel hurried into the kitchen and closed the door.
‘I can’t stay,’ Pamela said, shaking her head as Poppy made a move to show her into the front room. ‘I’m not supposed to use the car this afternoon. Petrol coupons, you know. Even though Hector gets a special allowance because of his job, we have to use them judiciously. I simply came to wish you the compliments of the season from everyone at home and to bring you some gifts from the land girls. Mrs Toon baked a cake for you and asked to be remembered.’
