Poppy's Place in the Sun

by Lorraine Wilson

  Walking along the side of the road where there’s no proper footpath it occurs to me I’m in the road in the dark and I’m not wearing anything reflective. The moon has disappeared behind some clouds since I set out and I discover my iPhone torch app doesn’t remotely penetrate the darkness of the French countryside.

  When I reach a bend in the road I frown. There shouldn’t be a bend in the road. I’ve come too far. How on earth can I have missed the turning off to my track?

  Warm tears slide down my cold cheeks as I retrace my steps. A distant yap from Peanut guides me in the right direction and I half smile through the tears. Move over Lassie, there’s a new kid on the block.

  Treacle is still worryingly quiet in my arms. I jog over to Leo’s front door and knock, feeling sick in spite of the light streaming out from the windows until I actually hear telltale movement from inside.

  When the door opens and Leo steps out my mind falters like a stalling car engine.

  “Help … I need … help. It’s Treacle, he’s not right.” I’m gasping for air, almost hyperventilating and, embarrassingly, after an utterly inept attempt at explanation I burst into noisy, uncontrolled sobs.

  Thankfully Leo is more proficient at dealing with crises than I am. He leads us both inside to his sofa, decides who needs help the most and gently takes Treacle from me. After a brief examination and several quick, calm questions which I just about answer between sobs Leo replaces him on my lap.

  “I’m going to get my on-call bag out of the car. I’d like to do a proper examination.”

  I bite back the panicked questions that will only potentially delay Leo from doing what he needs to. My mind goes to dark places while I perch on the edge of the sofa, mechanically stroking Treacle as I wait. Maxi’s placid, sleeping presence helps soothe me a little. He raises a head, sees his girlfriend/despot Peanut isn’t present and goes back to sleep.

  The mellow warmth of the log burner also helps to calms me, as does knowing we’re in Leo’s capable hands now.

  Or at least Treacle is.

  I feel utterly useless. In this bleak moment I consider if everyone has been proven right – I can’t cope on my own. I came out tonight without a torch or any reflective clothing and got lost within minutes. I couldn’t understand the answerphone message at the vets, my hands aren’t capable of doing the work needed to secure fences or turn the house into a working guesthouse. Who knows how long Joanna will decide to stay for. Have I taken the stupidest risk of my life deciding to stay on without Pete?

  Worst of all is the guilt that I wasn’t watching Treacle. That I don’t actually know if he hit his head or not. I suppose I do know I’m being unreasonably hard on myself. Logically I can’t watch all the dogs for every second of every day. I have to work for starters, not to mention sleep.

  Logic makes no headway though, it’s like an emotional dam has been breached inside me. I have never freaked out like this before in an emergency. Treacle’s seizure seems to have triggered the opening up of the dam gates. I had a schoolfriend who was epileptic, we walked to school together every day. Until the day she died from a massive seizure aged only thirteen.

  Again, the logical part of my brain knows one seizure doesn’t necessarily mean epilepsy and even if Treacle does get the epilepsy diagnosis it doesn’t mean Treacle will die, not imminently. But…

  I lightly kiss the top of Treacle’s soft head again. I feel so useless. The thought of losing him and being unable to help him is unbearable.

  I take a shaky deep breath. Maxi stirs from his sleep again and trots over to me, laying his giant head on my feet.

  While Leo examines Treacle I manage to hold it together. Maxi doesn’t move and it feels like he’s looking after me as Leo’s loyal assistant. I look down at myself and for the first time I realise with embarrassment I’ve got no bra on. I was ready for bed when I left, nightclothes on and face scrubbed clean. I wish even more now I’d brought a hoodie with me. I cross my arms over the empty baby sling. Honestly, in the big scheme of things it hardly matters.

  I stare down at Maxi and remember Leo deciding early on, before he even met me, that I was going to fail at making a go of life here. A view compounded when he discovered I’d be doing it on my own. I wonder at what point he started hatching plans to buy the house back. With Mum, Dad and Pete all thinking me incapable too I find myself, for the first time since I made the move, wondering why I’ve been so convinced that they were wrong, and I was right.

  By the time Leo hands Treacle back to me silent tears are streaming down my face and I’ve given up caring that I look a state.

  “Hey,” Leo says gently, gripping my arm once Treacle is back in my sling. “The news isn’t too bad. I think from your description he definitely had a seizure. Is it his first one?”

  “I don’t know, he’s a rescue dog. He was abused. He’s not had a seizure before that I know of.”

  “And he’s how old?”

  “About eighteen months, though that’s a guesstimate.”

  “A guesstimate?” Leo eyes me quizzically. It must be the first English idiom I’ve used that he hasn’t understood.

  “A cross between a guess and an estimate.”

  “Ah, I like that word. Guesstimate.” Leo smiles at me gently and then lowers himself down onto the sofa next to me. Bedside manner Leo, or sofa-side manner Leo is a considerably nicer version than I’m used to. “Given we don’t know his history we can’t know if it’s a one off or part of a pattern. You can have partial seizures. As long as they remain short, under a minute say, and don’t start increasing in frequency we could start him on some relatively mild tablets that help increase the blood flow to the brain. Also it might be an idea to keep an eye on him tonight, to check he doesn’t start vomiting or become confused.”

  “You mean like you might with a human who has a suspected head injury?”

  “Exactly.” Leo turns to me, his leg pressing up against my thigh. “But what about you Poppy?”

  “Me?”

  “Are you … okay?” He seems anxious, not so much worried about treading on egg shells as stepping into a man-trap with iron teeth. Perhaps it’s not all that surprising given the combative nature of our recent passive-aggressive exchanges.

  I wonder if the real question is “are you planning on having a nervous breakdown on my sofa? “ I’m not quite sure that the answer to that question isn’t “yes.” It might only be a mini crisis, a necessary release of pressure, but I’m definitely not okay.

  Leo does the staying quiet trick so the other person will fill the silence that normally annoys me. If I wasn’t so upset I’d stay quiet just to be obstinate but tonight I really need to talk and find myself telling Leo all about the epileptic school friend who died so suddenly and then about losing Gran last year – the only member of my family who ever truly believed in me and accepted me as I am. The only member of my family I ever felt loved by.

  “Her mother was French, so I do have a little bit of French in me,” I say and then realise exactly how that sounds and shut up. With anyone but Leo my mind wouldn’t have drifted to the double entendre. I’m not sure what that says about his effect on me.

  “Then your boyfriend broke up with you on the day that you moved to a different country where you don’t know anyone,” Leo says, the words blunt but the kindness in his eyes infinitely gentle. “And some of your neighbours weren’t exactly welcoming.”

  “Only one of them, really,” I mumble. “Don’t sign up for the Samaritans helpline, will you?” I roll my eyes, managing to dredge humour, or at least a semblance of it, out of my soggy misery. I wipe the salty wet tears away from my face. “I’m sorry for going to pieces on you. It’s just … I just…”

  I come to a halt, wondering if he might understand the terrible sense of panic and helplessness that swamped me tonight. The trigger – my terror of losing Treacle who is such a kind, sweet, affectionate little dog and so willing to learn to trust again in spite of what other humans have done t
o him. Just the thought of losing him breaks my heart.

  “I’m trying to say I do understand Poppy,” Leo says kindly, gently taking my hand and caressing my palm.

  I look down at my hand in his, remembering the last time he held it in the car after our infamous Carcassonne date/not-actually-a-date debacle.

  This time I don’t want to pull away. The contact comforts me. I need the connection. I want things to be okay between us, if they can be.

  “I couldn’t bear to lose Treacle you see.” I stare down at our joined hands. The contact feels intimate but instinctual. “He was so scared of the world when I rescued him, and so terrified of everyone. He flinched at the slightest thing as though constantly afraid of being hit. And now he has just started to be happy, to trust again. I want him to have the chance of a happy life.”

  Fresh tears stream down my cheeks. There’s no point worrying what I look like – a soggy, unhinged mess – it’s a certainty.

  Leo squeezes my hand. “I think he has got a happy life ahead of him. I am not unduly concerned. No promises, there are no promises in life, but we’ll keep a good eye on him and take care of him.”

  The word “we” feels like an anchor, attached to a rope I want to grab hold of. The connection with Leo feels as strong as ever. Stronger maybe, now I’ve fallen to pieces on his sofa and let my guard down with him. I’m too tired to fight the connection, or even remember why I’m fighting it. Whatever Leo said to me about the house the day of the date/not-a-date I know the connection between us is real. Life is complicated, and Leo’s life is a little more complicated than most.

  Yes, Pete has badly shaken my ability to trust but … I glance down at Treacle, tiny head resting on my chest, rising and falling with my breath, trusting me utterly and finding the confidence to be himself despite having received treatment far worse than anything I’ve experienced. Never mind wanting the heart of a lion, I think I want the brave heart of a chihuahua.

  “Was it you who finished the fence for me?” I ask, turning to search Leo’s face.

  “Yes.” He holds my gaze as he intertwines his fingers with mine and squeezes.

  “Do you really think I’m incapable? That I’ll be forced to go back to England?” I ask calmly, without any antagonism. I genuinely want his opinion. His belief, or lack of it, will determine whether I let the hand holding and thigh contact continue. I’ve had enough of people whittling away at my confidence. I need to choose carefully who I let into my life from now on. I need people who believe in me at an intrinsic, basic level.

  “Not now I know you Poppy, no,” Leo answers carefully. “That wasn’t why I did the fence for you, because I thought you weren’t capable.”

  “I know, you were being kind. Thank you.” I stare down at our intertwined fingers, not wanting to let go. The needle thin scratches from the wire are still visible on my skin. I get the impression he noticed them yesterday, that he picked up on my pain and my low mood after my attempts to chihuahua proof the fence.

  The crackling fire suffuses the room with a mellow warmth, relaxing me, soothing away first the stress and then the tension in my muscles.

  “I have early onset arthritis,” I say, wanting to share more with Leo while we’re in this safe space. “It’s a genetic thing but I’ve developed it early for some reason. It makes certain tasks harder for me. It was one of the reasons I wanted to move here. The climate, the warmth and the extra sunshine, it helps. I plan on finding solutions for the things I can’t manage easily. Plus I still have my income as an illustrator, it’s not like I’ll starve if I can’t make a go of the guesthouse. The idea was to create another source of income if my hands ever … Well if it gets difficult to paint.”

  I shudder inwardly. If I ever get close to that point I’ll probably take all the medication the doctors offer because the thought of not being able to paint is unendurable.

  “I’m sorry I was so crass, the day we went out.” Leo exhales loudly. “I know I offended you and I’m sorry. I saw how bad it must have looked to you.”

  I watch him silently, waiting, sure there’s more to come.

  “I wasn’t building up to the question all day, I promise. I had a nice day with you. There was no calculation. It was, when we drove back and parked outside Les Coquelicots … It was hard, to me it still felt like Madeline’s house. It hit me afresh, the pain of knowing I would never see the front door open and see Amelie come racing out to tell me what happened at school or about the picture she’s just painted … You’ve lost your grandmother and I understand your grief. I’m still coming to terms with mine and sometimes I get these waves that hit me when I’m not expecting it.”

  I nod, knowing exactly what he means.

  “Amelie liked art too did she?” I ask softly.

  Leo smiles and some of the tiredness leaves his expression. “Yes, she was quite like you in many ways. She was always making up stories too. She’d sit on the front steps and read them aloud to Maxi.”

  “Oh.” I can’t stop fresh tears spilling out, Leo’s sadness is tangible and I can see the picture he painted so clearly in my mind. “Is it very hard, every time you see me in the house, a stranger?”

  “You’re not a stranger to me anymore Poppy. A little strange maybe but not a stranger.” Leo’s lips quirk into a grin.

  I pretend to be outraged but then I think about the iPhone black eye, the fat lip as a result of a miniature Yorkie and then my ducking out of sight in the kitchen whenever I saw Leo. From his point of view I concede he has a point.

  “It’s not a bad thing to be different.” He shrugs. “Who wants to be normal? Normal is boring. You, Poppy, are not boring.”

  He’s still smiling but there’s an earnest intensity to the words that feels like magic, like an absolution. It lifts a weight I hadn’t realised I was carrying.

  “Come here,” Leo whispers, putting his arm around my shoulder and taking care not to disturb Treacle.

  I sigh as I relax against Leo’s body. It’s so nice to feel human touch again, to feel the solidity of warm, firm muscle. To know I’m not alone.

  “I am sorry about this evening, all the crying. I don’t know what happened,” I murmur into his chest. “I’m not usually like this.”

  Leo lifts his free hand and gently strokes the stray tears away from my face with his thumb.

  “It wasn’t just about Treacle. Like I said, you’ve had a lot to deal with and anyway, even if it had been just about Treacle, trust me, I’ve seen people go to pieces over their pets. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Leo moves his thumb from my cheek to stroke my hair, taking a long wavy lock in his fingers and playing with it. “I’d cry like a baby if I thought I was losing Maxi. Honestly, you’ve nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Treacle doesn’t stir in his sling and I don’t want to move either. I’d like to stay cocooned in this bubble of warmth in Leo’s home, revelling in the anticipation, the hope of something more. Maybe not tonight though. I’m shattered and emotionally drained.

  “I ought to get back. I left Joanna looking after the other dogs and I know she’ll be worried. She’s fond of Treacle.” I sigh, my body utterly unwilling to leave the sofa and the comfort of Leo’s embrace.

  “Who is this Joanna I’ve been told about?” Leo lets go of my lock of hair. “I heard she came to the café looking for work and you took her in.”

  “Then you know already.” Reluctantly I sit up. “She needs bed and board and I need another pair of hands. She’s great.”

  Leo stares at my hands, no doubt thinking about what I said about my arthritis.

  “Can you trust her though?” He asks carefully. “What do you know about her?”

  “Not much but then if I put an advert up asking for help I’d not know much about anyone who came forward.”

  “She’s staying in your house though.”

  That he says “your house” without a hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed.

  “I’ve got nothing of much value. My laptop is too old
to be worth anything and anyway, I trust my instincts in this instance.” I turn to face him. “I appreciate your concern, but I knew lots about Pete, or I thought I did. I shared everything with him and he left me high and dry. Also I have plenty of friends who’ve been ripped off by boyfriends or partners getting them into joint debt. Joanna needs help, I can help her and at the same time she’s helping me. I haven’t asked her lots of questions because…”

  I think about mentioning my theory about an abusive ex but as Leo is already showing a not unattractive protective streak and I don’t want to give him any more cause for concern.

  “Because she needs some space to heal,” I add. “Joanna will come to me and talk when she’s ready. I just have to wait and let her do it in her own time.”

  Leo looks pointedly down at Treacle. “Is that your policy with rescue dogs too?”

  “Absolutely.” I smile.

  Leo smiles back and I glimpse something unexpected in his gaze – affection.

  “A house for waifs and strays then?” He suggests. “I think Madeline and Amelie would have liked that idea. Let me walk you back.”

  “In case I get lost?” I raise an eyebrow and would laugh if I hadn’t just got lost so close to my own house. I’m never going to live that one down.

  “Something like that.” Leo grabs a torch and whistles to Maxi to follow him, he trots off ahead of us, sniffing at the grass and pricking his ears up at the faint sound of Peanut barking in the distance.

  Leo rolls his eyes at Maxi. “It must be love.”

  “Must be,” I reply lightly and my skin tingles when he takes my hand again.

  He’s talking about the dogs, right? Yes, of course he must be.

  I lower Treacle out of his sling so he can have a loo trot. He seems much more alert now and is following Maxi along as though nothing has happened.

  We pass the ruined chapel that borders the woodland and Leo stops. As his hand is holding mine he pulls me to a stop too.

  “Do you know I had my very first kiss here in this ruin?”