by Lily Baxter
Spring gave way to summer. In May the Blitz on London intensified, almost ripping the heart out of the city. Food became even scarcer. Cheese was put on ration and then eggs. Poppy often went to bed hungry and woke up to a meagre breakfast of toast and a scraping of margarine. Clothing coupons were issued in June although Poppy earned so little that she could not afford to buy anything new, but Dennis had mates in Petticoat Lane who somehow managed to sell garments on their stalls without a single coupon changing hands. Mrs Tanner said it was against the law and they should be locked up in the Tower and shot, but Mabel said it was a godsend. Poppy was somewhere in the middle, and although she wrestled with her conscience when Dennis presented her with a summer frock in a floral cotton print with a sweetheart neckline and tiny puff sleeves, she had not the heart to refuse the gift. She had worn cast-offs for so long that she had almost forgotten what it was like to wear something new and pretty. She thanked Dennis and kissed him on the cheek, but she insisted that she would pay him back every penny it had cost. She did not want him to get the wrong idea.
‘Nonsense, kid,’ Dennis said, ruffling her hair. ‘Can’t let my Scarlett go round in second-hand duds. You’re entitled to something nice every now and then. It’s my pleasure and I got it at cost, so spend your money on something else.’
Mabel was not so guilt-stricken when he produced a crêpe blouse that looked almost exactly like the one Dorothy Lamour wore on the cover of Picture Show, and had worn it that evening when they went to the pub to celebrate Poppy having passed her first aid exam. She had continued to study even though work at the hospital was gruelling and the hours long. Sister McNally had been impressed by Poppy’s actions during the air raid and had taken a personal interest in her from that day onwards. She encouraged Poppy to train as a nursing auxiliary, merely raising an eyebrow and shrugging her shoulders when she discovered that she was under age. ‘I doubt if anyone will ask to see your birth certificate,’ she said. ‘There is a war on, you know.’
For six weeks Poppy attended lectures and spent every evening studying and revising. To her intense relief she passed the examination which enabled her to apply for a position as a nursing auxiliary, and with Sister McNally’s backing she was taken on at the hospital. Despite the long hours, almost military discipline and back-breaking work, Poppy was in her element. Her old ambition to be a land girl was superseded by her desire to become a fully fledged nurse. As soon as she was old enough she would apply to become a nurse probationer, and to that end she studied even harder, spending evenings in her room reading books borrowed from the Red Cross or the local library.
She barely noticed the passing of the seasons. The news on the wireless was depressing and it seemed that the fighting would go on forever. She was beginning to forget what it was like to live in peacetime and her memories of Squire’s Knapp seemed like a distant dream. Jean wrote to her often, keeping her up to date with events on the estate. Mavis was stepping out with an airman from the air base at Warmwell, and Edie was spending all her spare time at the neighbouring farm. She said that the farmer’s son, Howard, was giving her tips on animal husbandry. A line of exclamation marks followed this statement and Jean had written ‘Ha ha!’ at the end of the sentence.
There was a brief mention of Algy, who had been granted thirty-six hours’ leave and seemed to have spent most of it with Jean, although she left the details to Poppy’s fertile imagination. It was obvious from what she left unsaid that Jean had fallen headlong for Amy’s brother, and it was not difficult to understand why. Algy was charming, good-looking in an understated English way, and had impeccable manners. He had a keen sense of humour and he was Guy’s best friend; that fact alone made him almost perfect in Poppy’s eyes. Poppy took some comfort from the knowledge that Jean would have been the first to tell her if anything had happened to him. No news in this instance was definitely good news.
One Sunday at the beginning of December Poppy was enjoying her first weekend off in weeks. Dennis had come to tea bringing with him a brown paper bag filled with sprats, which Mabel grilled, although Mrs Tanner complained that she did not like burnt fish skin and they should have been dipped in flour and fried in dripping or lard. Mabel’s lips hardened into a thin line as Poppy had noticed they always did when she was struggling to keep back an angry retort.
Poppy was preparing to step in and change the subject but Dennis suddenly held up his hand for quiet. The wireless had been droning on in the background but something in the BBC news had caught his attention. Even Mrs Tanner remained silent as they listened to the newsreader’s account of the Japanese air attack on Pearl Harbor.
‘The Americans will come into the war now,’ Dennis said, helping himself to a slice of bread and marg. ‘The Yanks will be coming over here in their droves.’
‘All those poor sailors,’ Poppy murmured, staring down at the sprat on her plate that seemed to be peering back at her. ‘So many killed. It’s awful.’
‘Hong Kong and Singapore will be next,’ Dennis said, shaking his head. ‘The Japs have already got French Indo-China, and now they’ve attacked America they’ll have to keep on with the offensive.’
Poppy pushed her plate away, her appetite suddenly deserting her. Amy was in Singapore. She wondered if the Fenton-Joneses knew that they were in imminent danger, or perhaps it was just Dennis being dramatic again. She hoped so.
‘What’s up with your fish?’ Mrs Tanner demanded. ‘I’ll have it if you don’t want it. Pass it here.’
‘I thought you didn’t like burnt skin, Mum,’ Mabel said pointedly.
‘I don’t, but I’m starving. I’m fed up with rationing and I want meat, but if this is all we’ve got then it’ll have to do.’
Mabel raised her eyebrows and sighed. ‘Give it to her then, Poppy. And don’t complain you’ve got a bone stuck in your throat, Mum.’ She rose from the table. ‘I’ll get the pudding. It’s carrot cake made with dried egg. I’m only telling you that so some of us don’t moan that it’s not up to much. I do what I can with what I’ve got.’
‘That’s right, Mabel my duck. Make do and mend, that’s the ticket.’ Dennis winked at her and grinned.
‘I’ll make do and mend you in a minute, Dennis Chapman. And you can take that grin off your face. It won’t be so funny when we’re eating Woolton pie for Christmas dinner instead of turkey.’
Dennis threw up his hands. ‘You’ve only to ask, ma’am, and I’ll see what I can do. I’ve …’
‘Got a mate in Smithfield,’ Poppy cut in before he could finish the sentence. ‘I bet if you wanted a Spitfire, Dennis would have a mate working for the aircraft company that makes them and he’d have one parked outside in the road on Christmas morning.’
Dennis blew her a kiss. ‘Wonders I can perform, love. Miracles take a bit longer.’
Poppy was on duty on Christmas Day, but Dennis met her when she finished at eight o’clock in the evening and walked her home through the dark streets. Mabel had saved her some chicken and vegetables, which she had kept warm over a pan of hot water. She had made giblet gravy and the chicken carcass was already simmering away with carrots, parsnips and swedes to make soup which would feed them for the next couple of days. There was no Christmas pudding or cake but Dennis produced a box of fondant fancies and a bar of Cadbury’s Whole Nut chocolate, which was shared around between them, even though Mrs Tanner complained that the nuts got stuck in her teeth. Dennis had also provided a bottle of ruby port, which put everyone in a good mood. Mabel had made paper hats out of newspaper and they sat around the wireless, sipping port and listening to Christmas carols on the Home Service.
After three glasses of port, Mrs Tanner fell asleep in her chair and Mabel brought out her knitting. She had recently taken it up and had only just mastered stocking stitch. The shapeless khaki object was intended as a balaclava helmet for Joe, who was still somewhere in England, but Poppy thought secretly it looked more like a scarf. She could tell by the twinkle in Dennis’s eyes that he was thinking the
same thing.
At ten o’clock, Mabel put away her knitting and roused her mother. ‘Come on, Ma, I’ll help you to bed.’
Mrs Tanner opened her eyes and blinked owlishly at her daughter. ‘Is it Boxing Day?’
‘No, Mum. It’s bedtime.’ She turned to Dennis. ‘Give me a hand, please. She’s always stiff as a board when she’s fallen asleep in the chair.’
Dennis sprang to his feet and lifted Mrs Tanner bodily, which made her screech in protest. He carried her into the dining room and sat her down on her bed.
‘I hate this room,’ she complained bitterly. ‘And I hate that damn Morrison shelter. It’s like sleeping in the same room as a dog kennel.’
‘You’d be glad enough of the shelter if we got a direct hit, Mum. Let’s get you into bed.’ Mabel turned to Poppy who was waiting by the door in case any extra help was needed. ‘I’m going to bed as soon as I’ve settled her for the night. And, Dennis, don’t keep Poppy talking until all hours. She’s got to get up early in the morning and so have I.’
Poppy hesitated, reluctant to abandon Mabel to the whims of her difficult parent. ‘Do you want me to refill your hot water bottle, Mrs Tanner?’
‘D’you want to scald me?’ Mrs Tanner demanded fiercely. ‘Get him out of me room. I can’t undress with a man looking on.’
‘Don’t be difficult, Mum,’ Mabel said wearily.
Dennis shepherded Poppy from the room. ‘I bet that’s what her old man used to say every night when she went to bed in her liberty bodice.’
‘Hush, she’ll hear you.’ Stifling a giggle, Poppy closed the door. ‘I’ll just see to the fire and then I’m going to bed, Dennis. I’m on the early shift tomorrow.’
Dennis followed her into the front room. ‘Mabel’s got the patience of a saint. I’d strangle the old girl if she was my mother.’
Poppy moved closer to the fire, standing with her back to the dying embers. The temperature in the room had plummeted and she was exhausted. Even though she had enjoyed her evening, it had been a busy week working with just enough staff to keep the hospital running smoothly. She smiled. ‘No you wouldn’t, Dennis. You talk tough but you wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
His expression softened as he moved slowly towards her. ‘I wouldn’t do anything to harm you, Poppy. You do know that, don’t you?’
Two glasses of port had made her feel warm and at peace with the world. She did not protest when he took her in his arms. ‘Of course I do, silly.’
His hands caressed her back as she laid her head on his shoulder and she slid her arms around his neck. The experience of being held close to someone who cared about her was a joy that had been denied her for a long time, and she breathed in the scent of him. The smoky, sooty smell of the city on a winter night that clung to his jacket took her back to her childhood and the hugs that Dad used to give her when he returned home from working on the railways. She raised her head and was about to make the comparison, thinking it would amuse him, but the look in his eyes robbed her of speech. Slowly, as if they were drawn together by a strong magnetic force, his dark face moved closer until she could feel his breath on her cheek. He held her eyes like a modern-day Svengali. She could hardly breathe. Her lips parted as he took them in a kiss that left her in no doubt as to the depth of his feelings. This time she did not pull away from him. She could not even if she had wanted to, and to her astonishment she did not want this tender embrace to end. She gave herself up to the moment, allowing the new and exciting sensations to blot out the war, and all the terrible things she had witnessed at the hospital and the ghastly news that they heard every day on the wireless. For the first time in her life she knew what it was to feel like a woman with desires and needs of her own.
But all too soon it was over. Dennis released her gently, gazing into her eyes with a smile that almost melted her heart. ‘Happy Christmas, Poppy darling.’
For a moment she was unable to catch her breath; then confusion set in and she moved away from the comforting circle of his arms, shivering as the chill in the room seemed to envelop her. Her hand flew automatically to the heart hanging around her neck and feelings of guilt assailed her. She had loved Guy devotedly since almost the first moment she had met him, and she had betrayed him with another man. Dennis was supposed to be her friend and now he had turned her small world upside down. Suddenly she was angry. Friends did not treat each other like this. He was standing very still, watching her with a wary expression. She closed her fingers around the pendant. It was cold as ice. ‘I’m very tired, Dennis. I’ve got get up early in the morning.’ She made for the door but he moved swiftly, bumping clumsily into the settee in his haste to intercept her.
‘I’m sorry, love. I got carried away. I know I broke my promise, but …’
She could not look him in the eye. ‘It’s all right. It was my fault as much as yours.’
‘But it meant something to me, kid. I can’t go on pretending that I don’t have feelings for you.’
‘I know you do.’ She raised her eyes to his face with an attempt at a smile. ‘I like you a lot too, but there are more important things than us at the moment.’
A lock of hair had come loose from the confines of her snood and he twisted it round his finger. ‘I know I’m not much of a catch and there’ll be young doctors and grateful patients who’ll be buzzing round you like flies around a honey pot, but I don’t want to lose you, Poppy.’
‘Can’t we go on as before? We’ve been having a good time, Dennis. I don’t want to get serious with anyone until I’ve finished my nurse’s training. You do understand, don’t you?’
He smiled ruefully. ‘Rhett waited years for Scarlett. I guess I can give you as much time as you want, kid.’
Poppy was relieved that she had to work on Boxing Day. It gave her a good excuse not to see Dennis and she had warned him that she might have to work overtime if they were short-staffed on the wards. She needed time and space to come to terms with the turmoil raging inside her head and the sensual longings that his kiss had awakened. She felt that she had grown up almost overnight, but although Dennis excited her physically and she enjoyed his company, there was something lacking. There was no magic spark to make her pulses race when he came into the room. She did not think about him when they were apart. In short, she was not in love with him. But he was not the sort to take no for an answer. There was a dogged determination in Dennis’s make-up that was both flattering and exasperating. Sometimes she felt like telling him to go away and leave her alone, but that would be too cruel. She was trapped, but she needed him. Life without Dennis would be drab and boring. Mabel thought the world of him and so did Mrs Tanner, when she was not running him down and calling him a spiv.
In February the news filtered through that Singapore had fallen to the Japanese. Poppy was in agonies, wondering what fate had befallen Amy. She wrote to Jean immediately, asking if she had heard anything from Algy. The reply came a week later saying that Amy and her parents had left for Australia before the invasion, and as far as Jean knew they were safe and well. Poppy almost cried with relief. Amy had been wonderful to her when she was a frightened and lonely evacuee. She wished she could tell her how much she meant to her, and that she hoped it would not be too long before she was able to return to England and marry Guy. That was not exactly true, of course, but she had long ago faced the inevitable: her idol would marry his childhood sweetheart, and that there was no place for her in his life. Mrs Carroll had made it abundantly clear that a girl from the East End was not welcome in their family. Poppy knew she must accept her fate with as good grace as she could muster.
In April, the day before her sixteenth birthday, Joe turned up unexpectedly with a pass for forty-eight hours’ leave. Mabel was ecstatic and Poppy had to put a pillow over her head that night to shut out the noises emanating from their bedroom, which was adjacent to hers. In the morning Mabel looked pale, tired and extremely happy. She said she had decided to take the day off sick and so what if she was given the sack. I
t would be worth it to spend some time with her husband.
Poppy herself would have liked to spend more time with Joe, but that would not have been fair on him and Mabel. Their married life so far had consisted of a brief honeymoon and then a long separation. In their joy at being reunited they had quite forgotten that it was Poppy’s birthday. She went to work as usual.
Dennis was waiting for her when she left the hospital that evening, and for once she was pleased to see him. His face lit up when she greeted him with a smile, and he brushed her cheek with a kiss. ‘Had a good day, love?’
She shook her head. ‘Not really. We’re rushed off our feet, short-staffed and I’m on the maternity ward. There were four babies born within minutes of each other.’
Dennis grinned. ‘That’s what the blackout does for you.’ He shrugged his shoulders, holding his hands palms upwards. ‘Well, it’s true. I bet Joe’s been making up for lost time with Mabel, lucky chap.’
‘You make it sound so sordid,’ Poppy said, turning her head away. ‘They really love each other.’
