Poppy's War Page 10

  ‘Really and truly?’

  ‘Really and truly. Get your coat and hat.’

  She jumped to her feet, but then she remembered that she had his handkerchief clutched in her hand. She offered it to him but he shook his head. ‘You keep it, Poppy. I’ve got plenty.’

  She was allowed to sit in the roadster’s dicky seat all the way to the village and again on the return from church. She had sat in between Amy and Guy during the service and when they got back to the house she could hardly believe her luck when Guy took her firmly by the hand and led her into the dining room. Her eyes opened wide as she gazed around at the usually sombre room, which had been transformed with swags of holly and ivy. At home they would have put up paper chains she had made at school and maybe there would be a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the lightshade in the hall, but only when Joe was bringing a girlfriend round for Christmas dinner. The gleaming mahogany dining table was set with silver cutlery and candelabra with tapering candles throwing a soft light onto the crystal glasses. If the Ghost of Christmas Past had suddenly appeared Poppy would not have been at all surprised.

  After lunch Poppy was prepared to take Rupert back to the nursery, but Amy guided her into the drawing room. Beneath a much smaller Christmas tree than the one in the great hall was a pile of boxes wrapped in brightly coloured paper and tied with ribbons and tinsel. Poppy’s small gifts wrapped in brown paper paled into insignificance beside such opulence.

  Poppy was amazed when Guy placed one of the largest boxes at her feet. ‘For me?’

  ‘All for you, Poppy,’ Amy said, smiling. ‘It’s from the whole family. We wanted you to have something special.’

  Poppy began to take the paper off very carefully without tearing it but Guy leaned forward and gave the paper a tweak so that it fell from the box, causing Poppy to gasp with delight. ‘It’s a wireless. There must be some mistake. This can’t be for me.’

  ‘It certainly is,’ Amy said happily. ‘We thought you spent far too much time doing nothing but study.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ Poppy murmured, completely at a loss.

  ‘Well, we’re looking forward to opening our presents from you,’ Amy said gently. ‘Why don’t you give them out yourself, Poppy? Everyone else has had theirs now.’

  Poppy got up feeling very self-conscious as she crossed the expanse of Persian carpet to the tree. She gave out her small packages, apologising to Pamela and Hector and then to Algy because she had nothing for them.

  ‘Never mind,’ Hector said cheerfully. ‘It was more than good of you to think of Rupert, Poppy.’

  ‘And I certainly didn’t expect anything,’ Algy said, tweaking her plaits. ‘Though of course I’ll never speak to you again.’

  She thought for a moment that he was serious, but a quick glance at his smiling face reassured her. For the first time, she could see a likeness between him and Amy. Maybe it was the china blue eyes or the way they crinkled at the corners when he laughed, or simply the abundant good nature that they both possessed. Poppy grinned back at him and he responded with a cheery wink.

  Edwin thanked her enthusiastically for the calendar, which he said he was going to hang in his study. Amy immediately knotted the blue chiffon scarf around her neck and kissed Poppy on the cheek. Guy unwrapped his present and taking great care he opened the little cardboard box and took out the St Christopher medal, holding it by its chain for everyone to see. ‘Thank you, Poppy. This is the best present ever.’

  ‘It’s to keep you safe in your plane. St Christopher looks after travellers.’

  ‘I’ll wear it and think of you,’ Guy said, smiling. He rose to his feet. ‘And now I’ve got an announcement to make.’ He cleared his throat and smiling down at Amy he took her by the hand. ‘This brave girl has done me the great honour of agreeing to be my wife.’

  In the sudden, deathly silence Poppy was certain that the clock on the mantelpiece stopped ticking, the flames in the grate froze in fiery spikes and she held her breath.

  Marina sprang to her feet. ‘You damn fool, Guy!’

  Hector cleared his throat with a nervous cough and Rupert started banging the drum that some thoughtless person had given him as a present.

  Amy stood up, moving close to Guy so that to Poppy’s eyes they seemed to be welded together.

  ‘Well, aren’t you going to congratulate us?’ Guy said, slipping his arm around Amy’s waist.

  The clock started to chime the hour, the fire spat a lump of burning coal onto the hearth and everyone began talking at once. Poppy looked helplessly at Guy but he was staring at his mother with his jaw set in a hard line.

  ‘You’re completely mad, Guy,’ Marina said furiously. ‘First you give up medical school and decide to become a fighter pilot in some immature, misguided attempt at heroics, and then, without any apparent thought, you engage yourself to a sick girl. I won’t allow it.’

  Before Guy could retaliate, Amy stepped forward, glaring angrily at her future motherin-law. ‘Don’t speak to Guy like that, Mrs Carroll. You should be proud of him for joining up to fight for his country. I think he’s terribly brave.’

  There was a moment of silence as everyone stared in amazement at Amy who was visibly trembling with anger. Poppy thought vaguely that it was as if a toy poodle had attacked a tiger.

  ‘Brave?’ The word fell from Marina’s lips like acid. ‘Guy hates the sight of guns. He refuses to join our shooting parties. What chance would he have against the Luftwaffe? And what does a silly young girl like you know about anything anyway?’

  ‘Just because he doesn’t enjoy blood sports doesn’t make him any less of a man.’ Amy’s voice throbbed with passion. ‘In fact, in my eyes it makes him ten times the braver for sticking to his principles. And as for him saddling himself with a sick woman, let me assure you that I’m perfectly well. The sanatorium cured me completely and even if it hadn’t, I’d rather spend a few short years as Guy’s wife than live to be a hundred without him.’ She burst into tears.

  Guy hooked his arm around her shoulders. ‘Mother, unless you apologise to Amy this minute, I’m walking out of the house and I won’t return until you beg her forgiveness.’

  ‘It’s Christmas and you’re upsetting everyone, Guy,’ Pamela said angrily.

  Edwin rose to his feet. ‘Marina, my dear, I think you should put an end to this before things get completely out of hand.’

  ‘That’s right, Edwin. Side with the children as you always do. When did you ever agree with me on any subject?’

  ‘Almost every day, my dear. But in this instance I think you should apologise to Amy and to our son. Guy is almost twenty-two and he can run his life as he sees fit. For myself, I’m proud that he’s going to do his bit for King and country. And as to the engagement, if I had to choose my daughter-in-law, I don’t think I could find a sweeter or more courageous young lady than Amy.’

  ‘Bravo,’ Algy said, clapping his hands.

  With an impatient shrug, Marina resumed her seat by the fire. ‘I can see I’m outnumbered. I think you’re utterly reckless on both counts, Guy, but I didn’t mean a personal slight on you, Amy. Heaven knows, I’ve always been very fond of you.’

  Amy gulped and sniffed and had to borrow her brother’s handkerchief because Guy’s was nestling in Poppy’s pocket. She managed a watery smile. ‘I’m sorry for flying off the handle.’

  Guy crossed the floor to drop a kiss on his mother’s forehead. ‘Maybe I should have broken the news more tactfully, Mother. But I never want to hear you speak like that to Amy again.’

  That night, Poppy slept with Guy’s handkerchief tucked under her pillow and, in the cold hours just before dawn, she had the comfort of Rupert’s little body cuddling up to her for warmth.

  It seemed to Poppy that nothing, not even war or family crises, could prevent the Fairford Boxing Day hunt from taking place. She watched Marina and Edwin ride off early next morning resplendent in their hunting pink. Pamela and Hector took Rupert to see the meet on t
he forecourt of the Stag and Hounds pub in the village square, and that left Poppy free to do as she pleased. But she was restless and still coming to terms with the fact that Amy and Guy had announced their engagement. Now that the secret was out she must face the truth. On his marriage to Amy, Guy would be lost to her forever. He would belong heart and soul to Amy, and they would have no room in their lives for a girl from West Ham.

  Violet was back on duty with a vengeance and making it plain that there were places she would rather be than pushing the carpet sweeper around the day nursery. With her copy of Vanity Fair clutched in her hand, Poppy made her way to the peace and quiet of the conservatory. The ribbed iron radiators belched out heat and the air amongst the potted palms was warm and moist. Poppy curled up in a rattan chair close to the window where she could sit and read unseen by anyone who entered the drawing room. She was so deeply engrossed in the book that she did not realise that she was no longer alone until she heard raised voices. She was about to make her presence known when she realised that Amy and Guy were in the middle of a fierce argument. She froze, unable to move a muscle.

  ‘No, no, a hundred times no, Guy. I’ve told you before, there’s no way I’m going to live with your parents while you’re off fighting the war.’

  ‘Be reasonable, darling. You can’t stay with your aunt forever. You said so yourself.’ Guy’s tone was calm but there was an edge to his words, as if he were trying hard to be patient.

  ‘I’m sick and tired of being reasonable. You heard what your mother said to me, and I’m sorry I went for her, but if I had to live here it would only get worse. She may think I’m a soft touch but I’ve got a temper too, and I won’t be put on.’

  ‘You’re being overdramatic, darling. Mother isn’t an ogre; she just finds it hard to express her feelings.’

  ‘Not hard enough it seems where I’m concerned. She virtually told you that I’m going to spend my life on a couch dying slowly of consumption like Garbo in Camille. Well, it’s not true. I’m well again now, and I want a husband, my own home, and babies.’

  ‘Of course, sweetheart, but I think we should wait a while to get married. You must face the fact that I could get killed. I don’t want to leave you to bring up a family on your own.’

  ‘No, I understand that, but I’ll inherit a small fortune under the terms of my grandfather’s will when I’m twenty-one, which is only two months away. I could afford to buy our dream cottage not too far from here, and we could have a June wedding.’

  ‘Darling, I don’t know where I’ll be in June. I might be stationed in the Outer Hebrides for all I know. It’s just not possible.’

  ‘Then let’s get married in a register office with a special licence. What’s to stop us? Lots of people do that nowadays.’

  Poppy stuffed her hand in her mouth to prevent herself from speaking out. The angry young woman did not sound the least bit like sweet, agreeable Amy who never raised her voice to anyone. She wanted to stand up for Guy and tell Amy that she was being selfish, but a small part of her sympathised with Amy’s plight. Who in their right mind would want to stay with Mrs Carroll if the alternative was to have a home of their own and Guy for a husband?

  ‘No, Amy. That’s not the way to go about this. Marriage is a serious step and I refuse to rush you into something you may regret later.’

  ‘Oh my God, Guy, you sound just like your mother.’

  ‘That’s not fair. I’m trying to do the right thing, but you’re making it very difficult.’

  Poppy could hear light footsteps pacing up and down the tiled floor. She crossed her fingers, hoping that Amy did not suddenly come round the stand of palms and see her crouching in the chair. They would never forgive her for spying on them, albeit unintentionally.

  The pacing stopped as suddenly as it had begun. ‘I had a letter from Mummy just before Christmas,’ Amy said breathlessly. ‘She wants me to join them in Singapore. Daddy says it will be safer for me to be away from England for the duration.’

  ‘What’s going on in your head, Amy? Why didn’t you mention any of this sooner?’

  ‘Because it was Christmas and you had your first leave. I wasn’t thinking seriously of going, but if you want to wait until the war is over to get married, there doesn’t seem to be anything stopping me.’

  ‘So you’ve already made up your mind? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Don’t shout at me, Guy. I hadn’t decided, until now.’

  ‘What are you saying, Amy? Are you breaking off our engagement?’

  Chapter Seven

  POPPY SUFFERED AGONIES of embarrassment tinged with jealousy each time she remembered the sound of Guy and Amy kissing as they made up after their quarrel. She had covered her ears but she had been compelled to remain in her seat until they left the conservatory. It had seemed like hours but it had probably only been minutes and the pain of knowing she had lost Guy forever lasted much longer.

  Marina had relented enough to arrange a large party for the newly engaged couple before Guy returned to his squadron. Pamela and Rupert stayed on at Squire’s Knapp while Hector returned to his job in the War Department and the house buzzed with telephone calls and visitors. Guy had taken Amy into Fairford as soon as the shops opened after Boxing Day and they had returned with Amy brandishing a solitaire diamond ring. Poppy admired it dutifully but thought privately that it would have been prettier if it had had a nice coloured stone in it, like her mother’s ring, which was red like strawberry jelly.

  Mrs Toon was permanently in one of her warpath moods as she prepared mountains of food for the guests, and Violet was kept too busy to bother with carrying trays upstairs to the nursery. Poppy was quite happy to collect the meals for herself and Rupert. It broke up the day and she was able to watch Mrs Toon flinging dough around and basting huge joints in the ovens with sweat pouring off her brow, while Violet scuttled in and out of the scullery looking agitated. Sometimes Poppy was allowed to go into the larder and choose her own food, and on these rare occasions she and Rupert crammed themselves with cake and biscuits and hardly touched bread and butter at all.

  On the night of the party, Poppy waited until Rupert had settled down to sleep and she crept downstairs to the first landing, peeping through the banisters to watch the guests arrive. She would write and tell Mum about the gorgeous dresses worn by the ladies and the smart black evening suits worn by the gentlemen. In spite of the war and winter, the hall was filled with hothouse flowers and an orchestra played the sort of music Poppy had only heard on the wireless. The strains of Viennese waltzes and Ivor Novello songs wafted through from the conservatory.

  Standing at Guy’s side as they welcomed their guests, Amy looked ethereal in a silver slipper-satin dress that skimmed her slender figure and fishtailed on to the ground just above her high-heeled silver shoes. The diamond ring sparkled like white fire on her left hand and she was all smiles. No one seeing her tonight would imagine the fierce argument that had passed between her and Guy just days previously.

  The stream of guests seemed endless and Poppy clung to the banisters overawed at the splendour of it all until pins and needles forced her to stand up and stretch her cramped muscles. Everyone was moving into the drawing room and there was nothing much to see anyway. She wished that she had been invited to the party, but that would be expecting too much, and anyway she had nothing suitable to wear. Guy and Amy might treat her like family, but she knew that to the others she was still an outsider.

  She dragged her feet as she climbed the two flights of stairs to the nursery and it was a long time before she managed to get to sleep that night. She was awake well before dawn, and, checking to see that Rupert was sleeping soundly, she took her clothes into the day nursery and dressed hurriedly. She knew that Guy was leaving early to rejoin his squadron and she was determined to see him to say goodbye. She crept down the stairs feeling her way in the dark but the whole house seemed to be sleeping and there was no sign of activity even below stairs. There was a strong s
mell of alcohol mixed with stale cigarette smoke, and although the servants had cleared up most of the debris there were champagne glasses in odd places and plates of congealed food left on the staircase and tucked beneath the spindly chairs in the entrance hall. The floor was strewn with pine needles where the Christmas tree was shedding its foliage and someone had knocked over an ashtray, spilling its contents on the floor. She let herself out of the house through the front entrance and tiptoed down the wide flight of steps. The moon was still high in the sky, lighting her path across the frost-covered gravel, and each breath she took was like swallowing iced water. She made her way through the stable yard to the coach house where the cars were garaged. In the light of a paraffin lamp she could see Guy bending over the engine, but he straightened up as she approached, staring at her with a look of surprise. ‘Poppy? What on earth are you doing up at this ungodly hour?’

  ‘I wanted to say goodbye and I didn’t get the chance last night.’

  He wiped his hands on a piece of rag, regarding her steadily. ‘No, it was rather a busy evening. Why weren’t you there?’

  ‘Nobody invited me.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I leave that sort of thing to Mother and Amy, but I really thought they’d include you.’

  She shrugged her shoulders, staring down at the ground. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘But it does. My sister is happy to treat you like family when it comes to looking after young Rupert. I’ll have a word with my mother. It’s not on, Poppy.’

  ‘Please don’t.’ She looked up and met his worried gaze with an attempt at a smile. ‘I know I’m just the evacuee and I’m very grateful for …’

  ‘Stop that.’

  The harsh note in his voice made Poppy jump, but he tempered his anger with a rueful grin. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout, but you are just as important as any of us and it makes me angry to see you hidden away in the nursery as if they were ashamed to have you in the house.’