Blitz - Book 4 of the Poppy Chronicles

by Claire Rayner

  Mildred looked up at her briefly. ‘Oh?’ and again Poppy laughed.

  ‘Really, Mama, I wish you wouldn’t put on this performance of being so acid. You aren’t at all really.’

  ‘Performance?’ Mildred said and managed a hint of a smile. ‘What else can I do at my great age but be the age I am?’

  ‘Heavens, you’re not that old,’ Poppy said bracingly. ‘Ten years from now, when you’re eighty-four, you can call yourself old. Not yet. Because when you are, I will be too, and I’m not ready.’

  ‘You were saying that the reason for Robin’s silence and yours –’ Mildred said, refusing to respond to any comment on her age. Clearly she did take a certain delight in being a typical old lady, and nothing Poppy had to say on the matter would have any effect.

  ‘Telephone damage,’ Poppy said. ‘They’ve been down for a longer than usual time. The main exchange building for the East End has been knocked out and they’re having all sort of problems getting it right. That’s why I can’t call you from the office, and why Robin hasn’t, I imagine. Not that I’ve seen her since she got back from Norwich – ’

  ‘You could call me from home,’ Mildred said. ‘My telephone here is working, so I imagine yours in Norland Square is?’

  ‘No, I can’t, even though the phone there is fine, of course. I’m hardly ever home what with the business and the canteen and when I am there you’re being an old lady and I’m not allowed to disturb you. You told me never to call you before ten in the morning or after six at night, so there you are! I can only phone you from the office and that one’s out of commission.”

  ‘Hmm,’ said Mildred, and turned her sock one needle on. The four needles shone a little in the morning light and the bony knuckles looked red and painful. ‘What was Robin doing in Norwich?’

  Not for the first time Poppy was taken aback by her mother’s tenacity. No matter how little attention she might seem to pay to a minor comment, she never forgot it, and always needed full explanations of everything. Poppy, knowing it would be a waste of time to try to gloss over any of the story, launched herself into the tale of Joshy’s latest adventure and Mildred, her eyes firmly fixed on her khaki sock, listened and said nothing.

  But when Poppy had finished she set her knitting down in her lap and took off her glasses. ‘You’ll have to start thinking hard about that boy, you know.’

  ‘I never stop thinking about him,’ Poppy said. ‘Or about Lee. I miss them dreadfully.’

  ‘Of course you do. So do I. But they’re where they ought to be, safe and sound. No I didn’t mean that. I meant his future.’

  Poppy stared. ‘His future? Isn’t that why we’ve sent them both away? To ensure they have a future?’

  ‘Of course they will,’ Mildred said bracingly. ‘I saw the last war, my dear, and I know, just as you should know, that this one too will end and life will start again.’

  ‘I sometimes wonder. This is much worse – the trenches last time, the injuries – the gas – they were dreadful,’ and her voice drifted away for a moment as she remembered, because it had been gas that had destroyed Bobby. But then she picked up again. ‘But this time, with these awful raids in the East End, it seems much worse to me. You can’t imagine what it’s like, Mama. I just pray they never come this far. I can’t bear to think of you here – you ought to be evacuated like the children.’

  ‘I told you and I tell you again, I’m too old to be uprooted. Here is where I belong and here is where I stay. Besides, I couldn’t do it to Queenie. The poor old soul would pine away if she didn’t have this house to care for.’

  Poppy smiled. Queenie was barely three years her employer’s senior, and Mildred persisted in regarding her as totally decrepit, and in some ways she was, for Mildred was far the better preserved of the two. But Queenie had worked in this house all her adult life, coming to it as a tweeny when she had been fifteen; to take her away now would indeed be an act of cruelty.

  ‘Anyway,’ Mildred went on, ‘we weren’t speaking of my situation. I want to speak of Joshy.’

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t. It reminds me too much of how miserable it is not to have him and Lee here.’

  ‘Nonsense. Evacuate yourself if you feel so deprived. Though you’d be a poor creature if you did. A little hardship never hurt anyone. But neglect of talent – that’s a different matter.’

  ‘Talent?’ Poppy was bewildered. ‘Joshy?’

  ‘He’s very gifted,’ Mildred said and picked up her knitting.

  ‘I know he’s bright –’ And Poppy launched herself into an account of his invention of a round runway to save space for aerodromes.

  Mildred listened and nodded. ‘I know perfectly well the child’s highly intelligent. It’s more than that though. He’s musically gifted.’

  Poppy shook her head. ‘Joshy? Hardly, Mama. When Lee had her piano lessons we tried very hard to start Joshy as well, and he flatly refused to pay any attention at all. I think this time that you’ve not got it quite – ’

  ‘Oh, piano lessons!’ Mildred waved a dismissive hand. ‘He isn’t interested in piano! But he can blow a trumpet.’

  Poppy stared at her in amazement. ‘He can do what?’

  ‘He said it was a secret and I kept it willingly enough, but he was small then. Now I think perhaps I will serve him better if I speak of it. Just before the war sent them both away, when he was here after his eighth birthday party, you remember? He went up into the attics and he found a horn there that used to belong to your Uncle Wilfred. He’d been given it at some time when he said he was willing to learn, but he never did. So Joshy came down here and I was able to show him the most rudimentary use of the instrument. He showed a most remarkable aptitude – remarkable. We arranged he should come here to play whenever he wished, and so he did, and did quite well, with no lessons at all. Clearly a natural musician – ’

  ‘Mama!’ Poppy said weakly. ‘You amaze me! We tried so hard to find out what he wanted to learn – ’

  Mildred shook her head. ‘It was simply the matter of the material. He dislikes the sort of music teachers make you play, he told me. He is interested in jazz. As indeed I am,’ Mildred finished amazingly, and again bent her head to her knitting.

  There was a slightly stunned silence and then Poppy said, ‘Jazz, Mama? Where do you hear it?’

  ‘Oh, on my wireless from time to time. And I have my gramophone.’ And she nodded her head towards the instrument in the corner of the big drawing room. It all looked here much as it had for the whole of Poppy’s life; she had come here as a very small child to meet her step-grandmother and her uncles in 1900, forty years ago, and had thought the heavy sofas and chairs and cluttered tables oppressive; and still did. But they suited her mother well enough and so she had never suggested she should refurnish in a more modern manner, though she was well able to afford to do so. Now, looking at the gramophone, sitting somewhat incongruously on a corner table, Poppy wondered if she’d been right to keep so quiet. There were aspects to her mother she had never imagined.

  ‘I believe that Joshy could become an accomplished jazz trumpeter given the chance,’ Mildred said then. ‘So I think you should be considering how to arrange his future education. He’ll soon be old enough for public school. I imagine you’ll be sending him to one?’

  ‘When the war’s over, I hope so,’ Poppy said. ‘It all depends on that.’

  ‘It needn’t,’ Mildred said. ‘You should choose a good school for him now, one with a strong musical feeling and one that does not sneer at the modern music, just because it’s different. It’s highly interesting and Joshy has the right to pursue it. I’d suggest you get the list of schools, when you can tear yourself away from the canteen and the business, and go and see them and choose one. I shall of course pay the fees. No, don’t look at me so. I have already decided it. I did little enough for my older granddaughter, and I regret that. She’s a highly capable girl. However, she is taking excellent steps for herself. But Lee and Joshy shall have better
. I want you to choose schools for both of them, and I think Lee would benefit from one with an art emphasis. She draws very well and has a nice eye for quality – I dare say you and David could pay easily enough for them both, but I have the right, as an old woman, to spend my money while I am able, in the way I choose. I want to do so without undue interference from daughters who should know better than to object.’ And still she kept her hands busy over her knitting and kept her head down to watch them.

  There was another silence and then Poppy said, ‘I’ll have to talk to David, of course.’

  ‘Of course. But he’s a sensible man. He won’t object.’

  Poppy smiled then. ‘I don’t suppose he will, not if you say so. He’s ridiculously fond of you.’

  ‘Ridiculously?’ Now Mildred did look at her, and Poppy bit her lip.

  ‘I didn’t mean that as it sounded,’ she said. ‘It’s just that –’ And Mildred smiled.

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘It’s easier for him, though, you see. He isn’t my daughter is he?’ And Poppy smiled and nodded. The tensions between these two had eased a little over the years, but they were still there; their closeness made that inevitable, for Mildred had only had one child and adored her deeply and been bitterly hurt when Poppy had chosen later in adult life to be closer to her Aunt Jessie than to her mother. But David had in many ways made up for that, and Poppy thought of the generous offer her mother had made and knew that it would be accepted. David could never oppose her, especially when his children would benefit from her actions. And why not? she asked herself then. Why should I feel a chill because my mother wants to be a generous grandmother? Because I’m jealous, a small voice deep inside her said, and she had to admit she was. Her children were hers and she wanted to share them with no other woman.

  Mildred had started to talk again and Poppy dragged her attention back.

  ‘That’s that then. Now, I want to tell you of something rather surprising. I’ve had two letters – ’

  ‘Oh? Is that so very surprising?’

  ‘These correspondents are. One is the son of my brother, Wilfred – the original owner of Joshy’s trumpet – who went to live in South Africa. He was a rogue, my brother Wilfred, lots of charm but rather – well, it was all a long time ago. His son is called Daniel and he tells me in his letter that he is a member of our Royal Air Force now and will be stationed here in England shortly. He could not, of course, tell me when.’

  Poppy was intrigued. ‘I have a vague memory of Wilfred, I think – ’

  ‘I dare say you have. He looked very dashing in his uniform, during the Boer war that was, when your father was so injured – ’

  ‘Did Wilfred suffer any wounds like that?’ Poppy ventured. ‘Or did he return with all his limbs intact?’ The thought of men who lost arms in battles always worried Poppy, ever since she had discovered that was what had happened to her father: ‘A one-armed boxer,’ he’d said to her so often. ‘What’s the use of a one-armed boxer?’ But she mustn’t think of Lizah, dead so long now. It wasn’t fair to herself and anyway, Mildred was still talking.

  ‘Wilfred,’ she said drily, ‘was a great deal too careful of himself ever to suffer any undue injury. He went to South Africa sound in wind and limb and never again bothered to write home. However, his son is coming and so we’ll have some news, I imagine.’

  ‘It sounds rather exciting,’ Poppy said. ‘An unknown cousin – ’

  ‘Two unknown cousins.’ Mildred began to turn the heel of her sock and Poppy watched those slow fingers, fascinated by their skill.

  ‘Two?’ she said. ‘He has a brother, then?’

  ‘No, this is yet another branch of the family. My other half-brother, Harold, also went to the Colonies, but he chose Australia. I received a letter from his son Harry, as he says he’s called, and he is a member of the Australian Army. He too says he’ll be in England soon. It’s a strange coincidence – ’

  ‘Not really,’ Poppy said. ‘Exciting, I grant you, but not that strange. Soldiers are pouring into the country from everywhere as far as I can tell – New Zealanders and Poles – we get a lot of them in the restaurant in Cable Street. They adore the food. It makes them homesick, they say. And Dutch and Norwegian and French and oh, all sorts.’

  ‘I know. But these are our relations. It’s all rather strange to me,’ Mildred said. ‘Well, once they arrive I shall let you know. And then perhaps you’ll be able to come and visit me. Such days are rare now, after all.’

  ‘Mama, stop bullying me.’ Poppy got to her feet and bent over to kiss her. ‘You know my situation. And now I have to go. I left Jessie to cope alone and I have to go back for a while before I go to do my shift at the canteen. I just hope the trains are still running into the East End. Last night was another appalling one. I just can’t see how much longer this can go on.’

  ‘As long as it has to,’ Mildred said and lifted her cheek to be kissed. ‘And it will end and we’ll all start to get back to normal life once more. I do assure you, Poppy, nothing is for ever.’

  ‘I wish I could believe you,’ Poppy said, standing at the door and looking back at her. ‘I truly wish I could. But from where I am in the East End, it’s horrendous. And I have to go back to it.’

  ‘You’re a brave woman, Poppy,’ Mildred said and looked across the big drawing room at her. ‘I am exceedingly proud of you.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘I know I may not show it, but I am. And I worry for your welfare, too.’

  ‘I – That’s good of you.’

  ‘I may not be as emotional and heart-on-sleeve as your Aunt Jessie, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have such feelings. They simply run more deeply, that’s all.’

  Here we go again, thought Poppy. Jealousy once more. Me jealous of Mama and the children’s love for her, and Mama jealous of Jessie and my love for her. Why can’t we all just be comfortable with each other?

  ‘I must go, Mama. Take care of yourself and Queenie,’ Poppy said.

  ‘I will. And you too, my dear. I need you a great deal, you know.’

  ‘Yes, Mama,’ Poppy said and managed to smile as she went, feeling like a child again. It wasn’t till she was in the street at last, the familiar old Leinster Terrace with its yellow houses and area railings and the tired plane trees, that she could shake off the feeling, either. And she sighed a little as she made her way down to the Bayswater Road to look in hope for a taxi, which were as rare as hens’ teeth these days. Perhaps being a child other people had to look after would be rather agreeable at that; because suddenly she felt very aware of all her responsibilities. This was turning out in many ways to be a much harder war than the last one, because this time there were more people to worry about. And she sighed again as she started the walk down to Marble Arch in the hope of a train, since there were patently not going to be any taxis, and thought about Joshy as a trumpeter with a talent he never told her about. That hurt a little. And then she corrected herself. It hurt a lot.

  14

  Robin came off duty exhausted. The rest of the night, after the fuss over her late return, had been particularly busy, and the combination of that and the tiredness left over from her appalling train journey left her almost paralysed with fatigue. So much so that when she realized that she couldn’t call home because the telephones in the hospital were still out of order, she headed straight for bed, even though she knew she ought to go down to Cable Street to reassure her mother she was all right.

  ‘She’ll understand,’ she told herself optimistically, ‘once she realizes about the phones.’ And crept out of her bath and into bed feeling at least a hundred years old, as she told Chick when she bumped into her on the night nurses’ corridor.

  ‘You look awful,’ Chick said with all the candour of old friendship. ‘For pity’s sake go and get some sleep – ’

  ‘Are you going to bed yet? You’re on again tonight, aren’t you?’

  ‘Mmm, worse luck. No, I’ll try and catnap this afternoon maybe – ’r />
  ‘Be an angel then – go down to Jessie’s and tell her to let Ma know I’m okay. The phones are down, you see, and – ’

  ‘With pleasure!’ Chick said at once. ‘I could do with some good nosh. Are there any other messages?’

  ‘No,’ Robin said and yawned hugely. ‘Oh, just a minute though – ask her who it was she sent down here to deliver my message, would you? The one about being back late last night – ’

  ‘Oh, God, you weren’t, were you?’ Chick looked horrified. Of all a nurse’s sins, being late on duty was very high on the list of wickedness.

  ‘Not my fault. Had to take Joshy back to Norfolk and it was a matter of trains. I couldn’t phone here, so I phoned Ma instead and asked her to get a message down and bless her, she did – but that ass Todd didn’t deliver it on. Anyway, tell Ma I got here and I’d love to know who she sent so I can thank her some time.’ Again she yawned. ‘Oh, God, I could sleep on a nail – ’

  ‘Try bed,’ Chick said, and shoved her in through her bedroom door. ‘It’ll be easier. See you at breakfast – ’

  She woke feeling a great deal better and stretched luxuriously as the clock on her bedside table shrilled, just one minute before the stentorian knocking on her door by the Home Sister, and then dressed quickly. She was ravenous and thought hopefully about breakfast. Perhaps something real tonight, instead of the eternal porridge and toast? Scrambled eggs, she told herself a little wistfully, would be magic, and almost drooled at the thought and that made her laugh. If Auntie Jessie knew how hungry she was, what wouldn’t she come up with? Tomorrow morning, after she got off duty, she’d go and see her and perhaps bring back one or two goodies. They’d come in handy for the break in Sister’s office if they had another busy night and couldn’t get up to their midnight meal. And a supply of Jessie’s glorious strudel must surely make people a little more friendly towards her. She hadn’t started well on Casualty, she knew perfectly well; making up the lost ground would be no bad thing, and Jessie, dear old Auntie Jessie, could help her do it. Robin was whistling happily as she went hurrying across the yard towards the dining room and the night’s work.