by Lily Baxter
He caught up with her. ‘Will you write to me, Poppy? I mean, I’d like to know how Mother is, of course, and you could keep me up to date with the gossip in Barton Lacey.’
She shot him a surprised glance. ‘You want me to pass on tittle-tattle?’
‘Of course. I’m not such a stuffed shirt that I don’t enjoy a bit of scandal. It’ll keep me up to date so that when I do return to Squire’s Knapp I won’t feel such an outsider.’
‘You’re coming back here to live? What about your studies? I thought you were going to be a doctor.’
‘I think my future has been decided for me. I wasn’t expecting Father to die, but someone has to take over the estate, and I suppose I always knew it would fall to me one day. It’s just happened sooner rather than later.’
‘What would Amy think about that?’
Guy hesitated, pausing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the house. ‘No one else knows this, Poppy, not even Algy. Amy broke off our engagement before she went to Singapore. She said we both needed time to think about the future.’
Shocked, Poppy could only shake her head. ‘I–I’m sorry.’
He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, staring abstractedly up at the darkening sky. ‘I could have prevented her from leaving. If I’d promised to bring our wedding forward she would have stayed, but I think I knew deep down we were both making a big mistake. Childhood sweethearts grow up and change. Experiences alter us and shape who we are. I’m very fond of Amy, but she wasn’t my life. I realise that now.’
‘I don’t think you ought to be telling me all this,’ Poppy murmured, shivering. ‘Maybe you’ll feel different when she comes home after the war.’
‘You’re cold. I shouldn’t have kept you out here selfishly unburdening myself to you.’ Guy took her arm and led her up the steps. ‘Go indoors and get warm. I’ll stay out here for a while and smoke the last of Father’s cigars while I make my peace with Squire’s Knapp for deserting it in time of war.’
She paused on the top step. ‘You talk about the place as though it were a real person.’
He smiled. ‘If you love something it becomes real. Goodnight, Poppy. I won’t say goodbye because I intend to come home eventually.’ He turned on his heel and walked towards the lake.
‘Come home to me,’ Poppy whispered as she watched him stop to light the cigar. The tip glowed and then disappeared as he walked into the darkness.
It was late by the time she had helped Pamela put her mother to bed in a small sitting room at the back of the house that had been hastily converted into a bedroom after Marina’s stroke. When Poppy finally went upstairs to the night nursery, she was relieved to find that Rupert was sound asleep in the single bed that had replaced his cot. His tumbled blond curls spread out on the pillow and in sleep he resembled a Botticelli angel. She smiled to herself thinking that this cherubic look would vanish the moment he opened his eyes. Master Rupert was growing up to be quite a handful. Poppy drew the quilt up to his chin and dropped a kiss on his forehead. She went into the bathroom and had a quick wash in cold water before undressing and putting on her pyjamas.
She climbed into bed, exhausted both mentally and physically, but her mind was racing. Guy’s revelations had shocked her to the core. She had thought him to be deeply in love with Amy and she with him, but now it seemed that theirs had been a shallow relationship based on an outgrown childhood romance. She was distressed and at the same time pleased, although she was ashamed to admit it even to herself, but she was also scared. When she had thought Guy was with Amy he was safe from the attractions of other women, but now he was free to fall in love with someone else. There must be any number of attractive unattached young women with whom he was in daily contact at the aerodrome. He lived in a different world now, filled with educated girls from good families whose jobs gave them an understanding of the risks he took daily. There might be young widows of comrades he had lost who needed a shoulder to cry on. Poppy’s imagination ran riot over the possibilities until she drifted into a troubled sleep.
She was awakened by Rupert jumping on the end of her bed. Sunlight was streaming through the window and she snapped into a sitting position, reaching for the watch that Dennis had given her last Christmas. It was seven thirty. She almost fell out of bed, much to Rupert’s amusement who seemed to think it was some sort of game. He chased her across the room as she went to the window to look out. There was no sign of the Bentley and she knew that she was too late. The first train to London left at six thirty each morning. Guy and Algy would have left over an hour ago.
Rupert tugged at her pyjama top and she was about to turn away from the window when she realised that there was someone standing outside the front entrance. She could only see a shadow but it was definitely male. Perhaps Guy had missed his train or had decided to take a longer leave. ‘Stay here and don’t move,’ she told Rupert sternly. ‘I won’t be long.’ Grabbing her flimsy cotton dressing gown, Poppy raced from the room, hurtling down three flights of stairs barefoot and struggling into her wrap. She wrenched the door open.
Chapter Eighteen
‘HELLO, POPPY.’
‘Dennis!’ She stared at him in disbelief. The shock of seeing him again temporarily robbed her of the ability to move. ‘What are you doing here? Is something wrong? Has anything happened to Joe?’
‘Hold on, girl. Don’t panic. Joe is fine. He’s still down in Kent somewhere and Mabel is okay too. She gave me a letter for you.’ He reached inside his jacket and extracted a crumpled envelope from his breast pocket.
She took it from him with trembling fingers. ‘Did you come all the way here just to bring me a letter?’
‘No, ducks. I came because Joe and Mabel are worried about you. They think that the toffs are taking advantage of your good nature.’
‘That’s not true,’ Poppy said angrily. ‘I came because I wanted to.’
‘That’s as maybe, but you can’t blame Joe for being concerned. He feels responsible for you and so does Mabel.’
‘But why send you all the way down here?’
‘I offered to come. I needed to see you again.’ His eyes darkened. ‘You walked out on me, but I can’t believe that it’s over between us.’
‘Dennis, this is ridiculous. I didn’t walk out on you. I left because Mrs Pallister needed me. You were the one who made a fuss.’
‘I thought we had something special.’
Exasperated and not knowing quite how to handle him, Poppy shook her head. ‘You know how I feel. I like you as a friend, and that’s all.’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I can’t turn off my feelings. It doesn’t work that way.’
‘I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t have come. I thought we’d sorted all this out before I left.’
His face was pale beneath his weathered tan and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. He seemed to shrink before her eyes, but all she felt for him was pity. It was not enough. She moderated her tone. ‘How did you get here so early, Dennis?’
‘I came on the mail train. Sat up all night in the guard’s van with a couple of Yanks returning to their base, but what do you care?’ He eyed her moodily. ‘Do you want me to push off? If you do just say so.’
She had thought she could deal with Dennis in any of his mercurial moods, but she had never seen him tired and dispirited. She held the door open. ‘You’d better come in for a while and rest, but that doesn’t mean we’re back together.’
He stepped over the threshold. ‘You always kept part of yourself locked away from me, Poppy. I knew that all along.’
‘Come through and please don’t make a noise. Mrs Carroll is a light sleeper.’ She led the way to the baize door and opened it, but Dennis was dawdling along, looking about him in awe.
‘This is some place you’ve got here. No wonder you didn’t think much of the house in Ilford.’
‘I never thought about it like that, but it was Mabel’s home, not mine.’ Allowing the door to swing on its hinges, she le
ft him to his own devices and hurried downstairs to the kitchen, praying that Mrs Toon had not yet risen from her bed. She was angry with Dennis for putting her in such an impossible position, but she could not simply turn him away and he knew it, which only added to her feeling of resentment. She went to the Aga and raked the embers until flames licked round the coal. She moved the kettle onto the hob, turning her head as she heard his footsteps on the flagstones behind her. ‘I’ll make you some breakfast, Dennis, but then I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’
He pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table. ‘Just like that?’
‘What did you expect?’
‘I thought I might make you see sense, but obviously you know when you’re well off.’ He spread his hands in an expansive gesture. ‘I understand now why you were so eager to get back here.’
She picked up the teapot, resisting the temptation to throw it at him. ‘You’re being horrible, and I don’t deserve that. I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea, but I tried to tell you how I felt so many times I’ve lost count.’
He ran his hand through his hair. ‘So you want me to go back to London and forget all about you?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry, but that’s just about it. You’ve got to let me lead my own life.’
‘Next thing you’ll be telling me I’ll meet someone else.’
The hint of humour in his eyes made her respond with a sigh of relief and a smile. ‘Well, you will. You’re a great chap and I’m …’
He held up his hand as if to ward off a blow. ‘For God’s sake don’t tell me that you’re fond of me. I can’t think of anything worse.’
‘All right, I won’t, even though it’s true.’ She made the tea and set it to brew while she cut slices off a loaf.
Dennis sat back in his chair watching her every movement. ‘Don’t spoil me or I’ll never want to leave. If you change your mind, Poppy …’
‘Don’t, Dennis.’ She patted his shoulder as she walked past him to fetch the butter dish from the larder. ‘I don’t want a fight. I’d like us to part as friends, please.’
He had just finished his breakfast when Mrs Toon entered the kitchen with her hair still in curlers. She stared at Dennis open-mouthed before turning a fierce gaze on Poppy. ‘I thought better of you than this.’
Realising that she had jumped to the wrong conclusion, Poppy was torn between laughter and embarrassment. ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Mrs T. This is Dennis. He’s my brother’s best friend and he came all the way from London to make sure I was all right and to give me a letter from my sister-in-law.’
‘Best not let Mrs Pallister see him or she’ll think the same as I did. You know that gentlemen callers aren’t allowed.’
Dennis rose to his feet with a theatrical bow. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, missis. But I’ve got a train to catch. Now I know that Poppy is in good hands, I’m going back to London.’
‘Well, I’m sure any friend of Poppy’s is a friend of mine,’ Mrs Toon said stiffly. ‘I’ll have a cup of tea if there’s any left in the pot.’
Poppy saw Dennis to the door. There was an awkward pause as he stood looking at her, apparently at a loss for words. She put her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. ‘I am truly sorry and I’ll miss you, Dennis.’
‘But not enough.’
‘No. If there was anything …’
He brushed her cheek with his fingertips. ‘Don’t say it, girl. I’ve always got Napoleon for company.’ Twisting his lips into a smile, he gave her a mock salute and turned to make his way down the steps.
She closed the door, gulping back a sudden rush of tears. She hated herself for hurting him, but she was relieved that he had left without any further attempts to influence her decision to remain in the country. She put her hand in her pocket feeling for her hanky and her fingers closed around Mabel’s letter. She had almost forgotten it in her attempts to deal with Dennis. She sat down on a Victorian hall chair and opened the envelope. The letter contained little news, apart from the fact that they were all well in South Road, and Joe was counting himself lucky not to have been sent abroad. With little enthusiasm, Mabel wrote that the Barkers and Auntie Dottie were unlikely to be moving out until the house in Leytonstone was rebuilt and no one knew when that would be. There were a couple of lines about how people at the hospital had reacted to Poppy’s sudden departure, and in particular Sister McNally, who had not taken the news at all well. In a postscript, Mabel apologised for Joe’s tactlessness in asking Dennis to travel to Dorset to make sure she was all right. She hoped that his impulsive action would not make things difficult and she signed off with a row of kisses.
Folding the letter and tucking it back in her pocket, Poppy rose from her seat. She felt sorry for Mabel having to put up with a house filled with carping relatives, but she was certain that Joe would stand up to them when he next came home on leave. At least she had the comfort of knowing that he was safe for now at least, and she knew she could trust Mabel to break the news gently to him about their mother’s affair with Harry Beecham. Joe was strong, like his dad. He would take it on the chin.
Resolutely putting the past behind her, Poppy went upstairs to the nursery to get Rupert up and dressed. She found him in the day nursery, still wearing his striped pyjamas and playing with some lead soldiers that had once belonged to Guy. Having helped him put on his day clothes she took him down to the kitchen where Mrs Toon had his breakfast set out on the table. Poppy left him in her care while she took a tray of tea to Marina’s room.
‘I’m sorry I’m a bit late …’ She ducked her head in order to dodge a missile thrown with considerable force. The glass whizzed past her left ear and hit the wall, splintering into tiny shards.
‘Where?’ Marina demanded, making an obvious effort to get the word out. ‘Where?’
Poppy had grown used to interpreting Marina’s monosyllabic attempts at conversation. ‘There was a stranger at the door – asking the way to the village. I had to give him directions and then I had to get Rupert up.’ She placed the tea tray on the bedside table.
Marina’s mouth worked but no sound came from her lips, only a drool of saliva from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears which slid silently down her cheeks. Poppy took a clean handkerchief from a pile on the rosewood side table and placed it in Marina’s hand. She pretended not to look as Marina dabbed ineffectually at her mouth and cheeks.
‘I’ll give you time to drink your tea,’ Poppy said gently. ‘And then I’ll help you get dressed. Miss Pamela will be down soon, and she’ll have breakfast with you, as usual.’
Marina lay back against her pillows, her face drained of colour. She raised her good hand feebly and closed her eyes. Poppy sighed. She had never had cause to like Mrs Carroll, but she would never have wished such an ignominious fate on anyone, and from what she had seen on the wards she could only guess that the prognosis was not good.
Later that morning Poppy went to the study to put the call through to the butcher for the weekly order, although even using the points from all their ration books combined, the amount of meat that would be delivered was barely enough for one decent meal. She sat behind Edwin’s desk but her mind was filled with thoughts of what had passed between her and Guy in this room just hours ago. She rested her head on her hands. Why did she have to be sixteen? She was not too young to fall in love and she was certainly old enough to know her own mind. A wave of sadness washed over her. She had said goodbye to Guy for what might possibly be the last time, and she had sent Dennis away. Even though he had put a brave face on it, she knew that she had hurt him. All that remained to her now was Squire’s Knapp. She would do her best to keep it in good heart for Guy when he returned from war.
She dialled the number and gave the butcher the order that Mrs Toon had written out for her. He had a couple of rabbits, he said, brought in that very morning and reserved for good customers like Squire’s Knapp. Poppy told him that Mrs Toon would be delighted and she was certain that Mrs Carr
oll would be very pleased. She had just replaced the receiver in its cradle when Pamela entered the room.
‘Poppy, I’ve been looking for you.’
‘I was just ordering the meat from the butcher.’
‘That’s not what I wanted to talk about.’ Pamela toyed with the silver inkstand on the desk. ‘I’ve decided to return to London. My husband has a very important job to do and he needs me at his side.’
Poppy nodded her head. ‘I suppose so.’
‘So I’m leaving this afternoon, but Rupert will remain here where I know that he’ll be safe from the air raids. I’ve spoken to the headmistress at the village school and she said he can start right away. He’ll remain there until he’s old enough to take his place at prep school.’
‘You’re leaving him here?’ Poppy could hardly believe her ears. Rupert would to all intents and purposes be an evacuee, as she had once been.
‘Yes, as I said. He’ll be happier here and I trust you to look after him. We’ll pay you a wage, of course, as well as the salary that Guy promised you. I wouldn’t expect you to take on the position of nanny without some remuneration. Hector will see to that, and we’ll visit him as often as we can. That goes without saying.’
‘Yes,’ Poppy murmured. ‘I understand.’ She did, after a fashion, although she knew that if Rupert were her child she would never leave him – not in a million years.
She hoped that he would not be too upset, but when his mother left Rupert seemed to take their parting in his stride. He clutched Poppy’s hand tightly as the big black limousine drove off through the tunnel of copper beeches. Pamela’s white-gloved hand could be seen waving gracefully through the rear window and Rupert raised his small hand in response.
‘She’ll come and see you often,’ Poppy said softly.
Rupert raised his face to smile up at her. ‘Can we go to the stables now? I’ve got an apple for Goliath.’
The hay harvest was helped by good weather and the Dutch barn was filled with enough fodder to keep the cattle fed all winter. Poppy’s daily routine fell into a pattern. She took Rupert to school, where he was apparently a model pupil. According to Miss Morris, he had mastered his alphabet and could write his name in block capitals, and the unfortunate incident with one of the Guppy children on his first day was all but forgotten. Rupert had proved surprisingly handy with his small fists and the Guppy boy had gone home with a bloody nose, but since that time they had become the best of friends. Poppy had felt like giving Rupert a medal, but she had given him the usual lecture about not fighting unless it was absolutely unavoidable, and turning the other cheek. She could have added that this did not apply to the Guppy family, but she managed to hold her tongue.
