Smiling, Poppy went over to join them.
Chapter Seventeen
Walking across the playground arm in arm with Jude, Poppy saw Angel lounging by the wall. He winked at her and she knew he wanted to talk.
‘What’s that boy looking at us for?’ said Jude, tossing her head. Her ponytail swung in a dismissive way.
‘He’s looking at me,’ said Poppy.
‘Poor you,’ said Jude, and switched them both in another direction.
Poppy didn’t even look over her shoulder. At lunchtime, she saw Angel again. He brushed past her where she was sitting among her old friends. When he’d gone, she found a tightly folded piece of paper by her plate. She slipped it into her pocket.
Later, in the toilet, she opened the paper. It was a single sentence with ‘A’ at the bottom.
‘YOUR DAD’S IN COURT ON MONDAY.’
Poppy looked at the irregular capital letters and thought, can’t he even do joined-up writing? Then
she thought, Jude was going on about this court thing ages ago. So was Angel. It didn’t happen then, so why should it now? She tore up the paper into little bits and put them down the lavatory. Annoyingly, however often she flushed, one bit or another floated to the surface.
Crossly, she stamped out of the toilet. She could feel her heart beating fast.
Poppy was spending as much time as she could in Jude’s house, or sometimes Amber’s. Amber was tall and strong and into all kinds of sports. She took Poppy to her judo class after school one day, and Poppy enjoyed kicking and punching so much that she asked her mum if she could join the class too.
They were in the kitchen, Irena watching her daughter hungrily demolish a large plate of Polish sausage with baked beans.
‘I’m glad to see you have appetite,’ she said in her usual sad voice.
Poppy looked up briefly. She couldn’t help noticing how thin and pale her mum had become. ‘It’s the exercise,’ she said. She thought that even Angel’s mum, whose husband was in and out of prison all the time, hadn’t let herself go like this. She remembered the white lacy blouse.
‘So, can I?’ She said.
‘What, my darling?’
‘Sign up for Judo,’ said Poppy impatiently. That was another thing about Mum, she didn’t listen. Too spaced out and sorry for herself.
‘Is it expensive?’
‘Oh, Mum. Do you want me to have a life? Or should I just sit around?’ Poppy stopped herself adding, ‘Like you,’ which of course wasn’t true because her mum worked very hard.
‘Money is a little difficult.’ Her mum wore a horrid guilty look. ‘Also, some of my parents find they do not need me for their kids.’
Poppy had gone back to eating heartily to avoid the look on her mum’s face, so it took a moment for her to understand.
‘You mean. . . ?’ She really, really didn’t want to say it.
‘Some people are not kind.’ Her mum looked down at the table and Poppy saw tears in her eyes. ‘They think a woman whose husband is in prison is not a good teacher for their kids. I not to blame. . .’ But that’s so bad!’ Poppy flung down her knife and fork. ‘So unfair! So wrong!’ She felt her face go bright red. ‘Even if Dad’s in prison, he’s innocent and you’ve done nothing wrong at all.’
‘I am married to him,’ Her mum said quietly. ‘I choose him. I must know, people think. It is not so unfair. It is how is life.’
‘No. No!’ shouted Poppy, now up on her feet. ‘It is unfair! I hate everything! You are good.’
Her mum gave a little smile at this. ‘Your dad’s family come from Ireland. I only understand later what goes on there. With Frank, too, though he a British citizen.’ As usual, when Irene was upset, her English was becoming odd. ‘Your dad is not bad man, but he knew bad people. They say they fight for freedoms. Want to bomb and kill. He was only a boy. But it is tempting always if things are not so good to go back find these bad people. Not for politics any more, for money.’
‘No. No! Don’t say all this. I don’t want to hear. I’ll shout “bananas and custard” if you go on.’ Putting her hands over her ears, Poppy began to repeat at the top of her voice, ‘Bananas and custard, bananas and custard,’ over and over again.
Her mum stopped speaking. She sighed, and ‘Poppy stopped shouting.
‘You are only a child.’ said her mum. ‘I will not say a word further, darling. My own darling.’
Poppy couldn’t eat any more, but she sat down and drank some water.
‘You will see Dad this Saturday?’ said her mum, as she cleared away.
‘It’s Amber’s party,’ said Poppy, adding quickly, ‘I’d better do my homework.’
As she lay on her bed, she thought, it’s no wonder I prefer to be at Jude’s or Amber’s.
Later, Irena came up to say goodnight. She kissed Poppy and then hovered by the door. Poppy pulled the bedclothes over her head.
‘Of course you must go to Amber’s party. But I wonder. . .’ She paused. ‘Have you forgotten Will? Today is the day for his operation.’
Poppy gritted her teeth and groaned. Will was part of everything that was horrible. Like Angel was. Was there no way she could just be normal and happy? Like Jude? Like all the others?
‘He told me he’s had lots of operations,’ she said in a muffled voice. ‘And this one is a small one.’
‘I hope. Poor boy. His mum said he is ready for visiting by Sunday.’ Fine,’ grunted Poppy. And then thought what she didn’t want to think: on Monday week Frank goes to court.
All the girls were involved in planning Amber’s party, which was to be held in an ice rink; then there was the party itself, an all-girls affair. Poppy had never laughed so much as they slid across the ice, bumped into each other and fell flat on their bums.
‘So glad it isn’t a swimming party,’ they told each other. ‘Ice skating in summer’s just so glamorous’ – and they laughed all the more.
On Sunday, Irena went to Mass as usual, and Poppy went with her. Sometimes her mum let her off, but she knew it made her happy when she went. ‘Belief is better than no belief,’ she liked to say.
Poppy prayed, ‘Make everything be all right,’ but she didn’t mention her dad’s name, even to God.
Afterwards they had a pizza before going on to see Will.
The hospital was even busier than before. Will was in a side room. He had a tube stuck in him somewhere which led up to a bag hanging from a steel rod. It was very, very hot.
‘Hi,’ said Poppy.
‘Hi,’ said Will, sounding much as usual, which was a relief.
‘I’ll leave you two together,’ said Irena.
When she was gone, Poppy said, ‘Are you all right?’ which sounded pretty silly.
But Will smiled. ‘Op’s over. That’s the main thing. It was the waiting, day after day, drove me mad. But, guess what. . .’ He stopped, looking a little embarrassed. ‘I finished your story.’
‘Oh,’ said Poppy.
‘The Rat Who Wanted to be Liked’, said Will, as if she might have forgotten. ‘I got bored of reading and there was nothing else to do.’
‘That’s great,’ said Poppy, who was trying not to remember how she and her dad had first started it that day in the prison.
‘I can do the drawings now – or when I feel a little stronger.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Poppy.
‘You can read it if you like. It’s on that shelf over there.’
Poppy went over and brought back Will’s pad. As she opened the pages and started to read aloud, Will lay back and shut his eyes.
‘Only Rat’s eyes and nose poked outside his hole but he could see where the screeching was coming from: it was a very small kitten caught by one leg in a very large trap. The steel teeth glittered in the sun.
“Stay still and I’ll come and help you.”
“Miaaooow,” said Kitten nervously, because she didn’t trust Rat.
Quietly, Rat pulled himself out of the hole and crawled on his belly towards Kit
ten.’
Poppy looked up from the pad at Will, ‘I like the way it’s going.’
‘Mmm.’ Will smiled with his eyes shut.
Poppy began reading again, ‘Rat had just reached the terrified kitten, when a black shadow crossed the sun and they heard the sound of heavy flapping wings.
“Oh, oh. Miaow! Miaow!” shrieked Kitten. ‘It’s the wicked b-b-buzzard come to get me.”
“Sshh. Hold still.” Rat knew these traps well, because farmers put them out to catch rats.
“Aaoooww!” shrieked Kitten, thinking he was going to eat her.
But Rat was cleverly lifting the piece of the trap that had snapped on Kitten. “There, you’re free!”
With one bound the little kitten dashed away.
Rat was just congratulating himself on his success when he heard a huge noise above his head and all of a sudden felt a shocking pain in his head.
Buzzard, furious at having lost his prey, had swooped down on Rat with his great sharp beak.
“Oh, oh,” groaned Rat. But he knew nobody in the world would come to help him. Inch by inch, he dragged himself back to his hole.
Once there he lay panting in the darkness. The pain was very bad.
He must have closed his eyes for a few minutes, because when he opened them, he thought he was dreaming. Sitting round him were Mother Rabbit, Kitten and all the other animals.
“He’s awake,” squeaked one of the baby bunnies.
Owl blinked his big round eyes, “You are a hero,” he hooted solemnly. All the animals sat up and looked serious. “We are going to present you with the Order of Noble Merit First Class for saving the life of Kitten.”
“It’s a chocolate button,” said Kitten. “Very tasty.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you,” murmered Rat weakly. “All I wanted was to be liked.”
At this, all the animals clapped and Squirrel began singing loudly, “For he’s a jolly good fellow”.
So Rat found out what it was to be liked and have friends and ever after he was the happiest Rat in the world.
The End.’
‘That’s lovely,’ said Poppy. But Will didn’t answer – he was asleep – and she crept outside to wait for her mother, thinking that a happy ending was the best thing in the world.
Chapter Eighteen
On Monday, Amber brought one of her birthday presents into school. It was a mechanical hamster with the sweetest expression who shot around the floor squeaking. Since toys were forbidden, the girls spent a lot of time in the cloakroom and then the toilets, pretending one of them had a nosebleed.
As Poppy came out giggling, she caught sight of Angel. She turned the other way quickly and when she looked back, he was gone.
That evening, Poppy didn’t go home. Her mum rang Jude’s mum and asked whether Poppy could stay with them, because she wasn’t feeling well. Poppy couldn’t help being relieved that she’d avoided a gloomy evening.
On Tuesday, Poppy was hanging around in the playground at break when she saw Angel coming determinedly towards her. She was on her own, so she decided to stand her ground.
‘Hi, Angel. Haven’t seen you around.’
He stood facing her, as if waiting for something. Then he shook his head so that his thick hair glinted in the sun. He looked serious.
‘I’ve been busy,’ began Poppy, but Angel interrupted her.
‘Did you get my note?’
‘Note?’ said Poppy vaguely, as if she didn’t know what note.
‘I told you, your dad was in court on Monday,’ said Angel.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Poppy, as if she’d just remembered.
‘So I expect you know what happened.’ Angel’s seriousness was turning into annoyance at her continually blanking him.
‘Uhm.’
‘I expect,’ said Angel in bitter tones, ‘your mum told you, so I don’t need to tell you a thing and I can get right out of your life like you want, and you can go on having a rave with your real friends. Just say, and I’ll be off. It’s only a couple of weeks to the end of term and then I’ll be gone, anyway. Senior school, isn’t it.’
Poppy felt herself going hot and then cold. ‘I didn’t see my mum last night,’ she said.
‘No calls or texts?’ said Angel suspiciously.
‘I was at Jude’s.’
‘Nice one.’ Angel gave her a dirty look. ‘You want to know what happened in court, or not?’
‘How do you know what happened?’ Poppy prevaricated.
‘Because my dad thinks I’m a mate of yours, and told my mum. So?’ Angel stood four square, daring her to deny this.
Poppy looked down. ‘Is it bad?’
Angel’s whole attitude suddenly changed. ‘Prepare yourself, Bro.’ He put out a hand as if to touch her, then dropped it. ‘What isn’t bad?’
Poppy thought that jumping on the trampoline wasn’t bad, splashing in the sea wasn’t bad. She looked up. ‘Go on. What happened?’
‘Five years,’ said Angel. ‘That’s what happened. He got five years.’
Poppy stared at him. She had a burning sensation all over her body as if she was going to explode. She managed to whisper, ‘You mean, five years in prison? My dad? Big Frank?’
‘He’ll serve half that, if he keeps his nose clean. My dad says your dad was in trouble before. Fifteen, twenty years ago. I don’t know. When he was a kid. Bank raids in Ireland. That sort of thing.’
Poppy couldn’t answer. Her head was feeling funny now, all light and airy. The next thing she knew, she was lying flat out on the ground. Angel’s face was above her.
‘He’s innocent,’ she murmured. She saw other legs gathering around her and more faces peering. Angel’s face wavered, then came back into focus.
‘We’ll have to hurry along your Great Escape Plan, won’t we,’ he whispered, ‘before they ship him out. See you around.’ Then he went.
‘Poppy fainted, Miss!’ shouted a voice that might have been Jude’s.
Miss Bavani appeared, looking concerned. She helped Poppy up.
‘I was coming along for you anyway,’ said Miss Bavani. ‘The head wants a word. But it looks as if you need the nurse instead.’
Poppy didn’t answer. She wished she was still out of it, unconscious on the ground. She felt her whole body shaking.
‘Do you think you’re well enough to see him?’ asked Miss Bavani. ‘He said it was urgent.’
‘Fine,’ muttered Poppy. She dragged her arm free. What did anything matter? ‘Five years, five years, five years.’ The words drummed in her head.
‘Good morning, Poppy.’ The headmaster stood up when they came in, which wasn’t normal. He came out from behind his desk and pulled out two chairs. ‘Please stay, Miss Bavani.’
Miss Bavani looked at her watch.
‘Your mother rang this morning, Poppy. She wanted me to tell you something.’
Poppy lifted her head. ‘I know,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘I know. Angel just told me. That’s why I fainted. My dad got five years in prison.’ Poppy couldn’t believe how clear and in control she sounded. She thought, I must be in shock. Then she thought, he’s innocent and I’m going to get him out. Since neither the headmaster nor Miss Bavani had anything to say, she said out loud, ‘My dad’s innocent.’
A further silence. After what seemed a long time but was probably only a minute or two, Poppy stood up. ‘Can I go now, please?’
Miss Bavani came to life. She put her arm around Poppy. She smelled of flowery scent. ‘Why don’t you rest a bit, dear.’ She got out her mobile. ‘I’ll call the nurse and tell her to collect you.’ She turned to the headmaster. ‘I’ve got to get back to my class.’
‘Of course.’ He eyed Poppy in a concerned way. ‘Your mother didn’t feel up to telling you herself. We’ll do everything we can to help you.’ He paused. ‘He’ll probably only serve two and a half years.’
‘Only?’ repeated Poppy, glaring.
‘Yes. Well.’ The headma
ster fiddled about with papers on his desk.
‘I’d rather go back to my class,’ said Poppy and she noticed the relief in Mr Hannigan’s face.
‘Fine. Fine. Perhaps that’s best.’
The rest of the day passed in a daze.
‘Sit down, Poppy, or you might faint again.’ Jude and her other friends fussed over her, which was nice but not really the point.
At last came the moment she was dreading: the end of the final lesson and her mum’s pale face at the gates. They walked away quickly, hand in hand.
‘I am filled with such sorrow for you, Poppy, my so darling daughter. ‘‘It’s not your fault. I could not tell you myself. I could not see your beautiful young face and bring to it sadness. The headmaster was kind?’
Poppy didn’t tell her mum that Angel had been the first to say those words ‘Five years’, because the Great Escape was all she had to hang on to now and she had to keep it secret.
Her mum was still talking, two hectic red spots in her cheeks. ‘We’ll go to Poland for our summer holdays. Perhaps for Christmas, too, and you can learn to ski. So long since I ski. Polish children like to ski. Perhaps Jude may come. Skiing is very good on the Polish-German border.’
But Poppy was only half listening. Angel had mentioned the Great Escape. That must mean he had a plan. She totally forgot how she’d been avoiding him over the last week or two. Now he was the only person she wanted to see.
Chapter Nineteen
‘Got it all planned, haven’t we.’
Poppy had never heard Angel sound so keen. She and Jude were with him in the corner behind the wall. Jude had seen Poppy going over to him and grabbed her arm.
‘Why can’t I come too?’ she’d said, pursing up her mouth crossly.
‘You don’t know him.’ That had seemed a good enough reason, but then Poppy had added, ‘You don’t want to know him.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘You could have fooled me.’
‘I want to know him because I’m your friend.’
Jude had been a very good friend lately. But Poppy had never talked about her dad in prison, and that had become all-important again. Did she want Jude to be part of that?
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