by Amanda Wills
Chapter 19
The next few hours passed by in a blur. The ambulance arrived and two cheery paramedics took charge, strapping Caroline’s wrist into a sling and giving her gas and air for the pain. Henry Blossom was as good as his word and phoned Tory, who promised to ring her nephew at once to bring her over. Sniffer prowled around the lounge, picking up photos of the McKeevers and examining the family’s assorted curios and ornaments, from fossils found by the children to Caroline’s collection of old Chinese vases. Poppy watched the journalist, seeing the room through his eyes. Caroline had spent a week painting the walls and sanding and waxing the floorboards. Two huge squashy damson-coloured sofas, a battered leather armchair and their eclectic collection of painted furniture were arranged around the open fireplace. Patchwork throws and cushions the colour of jewels made the room warm and welcoming. Poppy realised with a jolt that Riverdale already felt more of a home to her than their house in Twickenham ever had.
Her stepmother’s face was still ashen as the paramedics accompanied her to the ambulance. Grimacing with pain at every step, Caroline thanked Henry, who had promised to stay with Poppy and Charlie until Tory arrived. Caroline turned to the children, who both looked slightly shell-shocked. “Goodbye, angels. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Be good for Tory, won’t you?”
“Of course we will!” said Charlie, slipping his hand into Poppy’s. “Anyway, Poppy will look after me, won’t you Poppy?” He looked at his big sister trustingly.
Poppy smiled into his blue eyes, so like Caroline’s, and her heart gave a funny twist. She squeezed his hand and replied, “It goes without saying, little brother.” She looked shyly at Caroline. “I hope everything goes OK at the hospital. Will you ring and let us know how you get on?”
“Of course I will, sweetheart. Don’t you worry about me – I’ll be fine.” And she stepped gingerly into the ambulance and was gone.
“Your mum’s a brave lass,” observed Henry. For the first time in her life Poppy didn’t feel the urge to correct him. “Yes, she is,” she said quietly.
While they waited for Tory to arrive Poppy finished making Henry’s cup of tea and went into the lounge to straighten the rug where Caroline had fallen. As she walked over to the window she, too, almost lost her footing. The floor was as slippery as an ice rink. She looked at the gleaming wooden floorboards and suddenly everything was clear. Poppy tracked her brother down in his bedroom, where he was morosely lining up his action heroes in height order.
“Charlie – when you tidied the lounge this morning, how did you clean the floor?” she asked gently.
“I hoovered the rug and used that polish you gave me on the wooden bit of the floor of course,” he said, not looking up from his toys.
“I thought so,” said Poppy. “Probably best not to use polish on the floor again next time. Makes it a bit slippy,” she added, as tactfully as she could. “I think I’d better go and wash it off before Tory arrives. We don’t want her taking a tumble as well.”
Charlie was humming tunelessly to himself, his head bent over the Incredible Hulk and his red Power Ranger. Poppy left him to it. There was no point making him feel guilty for causing Caroline’s fall – he’d only been trying to help. Caroline would see the funny side, she felt sure.
Poppy’s stomach was beginning a low level rumbling by the time she heard the crunch of gravel and a knock at the front door. She flew into the hall and threw the door open. There on the doorstep was Tory, leaning on her sticks, a look of concern on her weathered old face. Behind her, her nephew was unloading carrier bags from the boot of his car.
“Hello Poppy, I thought you might not have much in the house so we popped into the supermarket on our way. That’s why we’re a bit late.”
“Fantastic! I’m starving. In fact I’m so hungry I could eat a Dartmoor pony!” said Charlie, who had appeared in the hallway. “Only joking – it would probably be a bit chewy. What have you got us for tea?”
Henry had followed Charlie into the hall. Poppy noticed that he walked with a stoop even when he wasn’t carrying his camera bag.
“Hello Tory, long time no see,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Come here, you daft twit. Give me a hug,” Tory commanded, and Henry, looking slightly abashed, did as he was told. Tory watched the children’s astonished faces with amusement. “I’ve known Henry since he was a baby,” she said. “His mother was a great friend of mine. I met Margaret in the maternity ward and Jo and Henry were born within hours of each other. We always hoped they’d end up getting married but it wasn’t to be,” she said wistfully.
They chatted for a while until Tory’s nephew started making noises about getting back before it got too dark and Henry reluctantly stood up and said he should also make a move.
“Now are you sure you’re going to be OK looking after the children, Tory? Will you be able to manage the stairs?” he asked.
“I lived here on my own until the beginning of July, Henry Blossom,” she replied tartly. “We’ll be absolutely fine. Poppy can show me where everything is, can’t you, pet?”
They waved the two cars off and went into the kitchen where Tory, with Poppy acting as her sous chef, cooked sausages and mash with peas and onion gravy.
“That was yum,” declared Charlie, yawning extravagantly. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and watched sleepily while Tory cleared the table and Poppy began loading the dishwasher. Poppy felt a wave of responsibility sweep over her. Both children were so used to their dad’s trips abroad that his absences were part of the fabric of family life, but Caroline was a permanent fixture. The only time Poppy could recall her stepmother being away for any length of time was when she went into hospital to have Charlie six-and-a-half years ago.
Poppy remembered how excited everyone had been, how they assumed she was looking forward to the baby coming. Truth was, she’d dreaded it. The thought of another girl coming into their home and commanding all her dad’s attention was beyond endurance. When she found out the interloper was a boy it was a little easier to bear and, despite initial resistance on her part, her baby brother gradually wormed his way into her affections. Charlie was an easy baby with a gummy smile that sent old ladies into clucky raptures. But he only had eyes for one person – his big sister. His blue eyes followed Poppy adoringly around the room and as soon as he could crawl he became her shadow. Occasionally having a kid brother got on her nerves but after five years as an only child it was nice to always have someone to play with, even if the games did tend to involve trains and super heroes.
“Come on Charlie. Let’s take you to bed before you fall asleep at the table,” she said now, and he followed her obediently up to his room.
By the time she came back down half an hour later Tory was settled on one of the sofas with some knitting, the clicking needles the only sound. Poppy looked at the clock on the oak beam above the fireplace. It was almost eight o’clock and too late to go and see Cloud now. The day had been so filled with drama that she hadn’t given the pony a second thought for hours, she realised guiltily.
“We never did get a chance to talk about Cloud, did we? Have you seen him again?” Tory said, as if reading her mind.
Poppy played with a strand of her hair while she deliberated whether or not to tell Tory about her attempts to catch the pony and hide him from the drift. Deciding they both had Cloud’s best interests at heart she took the plunge and told Tory about her forays into the wood under the pretext of badger-watching, the pony’s poor condition and the buckets of food he had wolfed down.
“The last few times I’ve really felt I’ve made progress. He’s let me stroke him and I’m sure he’s beginning to trust me. But the drift is only two weeks away and I start school on Monday. I’m running out of time,” she said despondently. Tory stopped knitting and her eyes took on a faraway look. Poppy thought back to the conversation Caroline had overheard in the post office all those weeks ago. Tory must have hidden the pony every autumn to stop him being rounded up with the rest of the
Dartmoor ponies.
“Tory?” she began, biting her bottom lip until it turned white.
“Yes, pet?” The needles resumed their rhythmic clicking.
“I know you’d have hated it if Cloud had ended up back at George Blackstone’s farm. I was wondering…did you hide him here at Riverdale?”
Tory stopped knitting again and looked at Poppy. She reminded her so much of Caitlyn and it was clear to her that Poppy and Cloud had some kind of connection, just as Caitlyn and Cloud had once had. Taking a deep breath, Tory made a decision she hoped she wouldn’t live to regret.
“Yes, pet, I did. Saving her beloved Cloud was the one thing I could still do for Caitlyn, so that’s what I did.”
“But he’s so nervous around people. How on earth did you manage to catch him?”
Tory smiled sadly. “Think about it logically, Poppy. The answer is right under your nose.”
