Poppy's War (16 page)

‘I’ve never been to London.’ Mavis negotiated the stairs, heaving her suitcase from step to step.

‘Get a move on. I’m busting for a pee.’ Edie’s voice rose to an agonised shriek.

‘I’m going as quick as I can.’ Mavis stumbled as she caught her toe on the top step, cannoning into Poppy. ‘Sorry. She pushed me.’

Tossing her case onto the bare boards, Edie bounded into the room. ‘Where’s the bloody bathroom? Don’t tell me it’s an outside lavvy.’

Poppy peered into the large open space beneath the rafters. There were three small windows beneath the eaves but they let in precious little daylight. A paraffin lamp hung from a beam and she could just make out four single beds lined up against the back wall.

‘So this is country living,’ Jean said as she joined them. ‘Are we really expected to live up here without so much as an electric light or a bathroom?’

Poppy frowned. ‘I think there’s a toilet in the head groom’s office next door.’

‘Now she tells me.’ Edie flew past her and almost fell down the stairs in her haste.

‘How do we keep warm in winter?’ Mavis asked faintly. ‘Did the stable lads really live like this? There’s no lino on the floor and not even a rug to make the place look a bit more like home.’

‘I believe it’s called roughing it,’ Jean said drily. ‘All part of the country experience. I think I might get the next train back to Carshalton and enlist in the WAAF.’

Poppy’s heart sank; she did not want to lose her new friends so soon. ‘Don’t go yet. I’m sure there must be things in the big house that they don’t need which would make it much more comfortable for you. I’ll ask Mrs Toon if she can help.’

Jean put her suitcase on the nearest bed with a sigh. ‘You’re a good kid, Poppy. Perhaps you could ask for a few more blankets or a nice feather eiderdown.’

‘There’s a wood burner,’ Poppy said, pointing to a soot-blackened pot-bellied stove at the far end of the room. ‘And there’s plenty of trees growing on the estate. There’s a log store at the back of the kitchen, and it’s always piled high with firewood.’ She glanced over her shoulder as Edie thundered up the stairs.

‘Flaming hell,’ she said, wiping her hands on her skirt. ‘Those stable lads lived like pigs. I’ve never
seen
such a mess, and there’s only a cold water tap in the toilet. I wouldn’t wash my dog in that sink, and I’ll swear that the water has legs.’

Poppy could see a rebellion brewing. ‘I’ll take you to the kitchen if you’ve seen enough up here. Mrs Toon is a very good cook. Maybe you’ll feel better about things when you’ve had something to eat.’

‘She’s probably boiling up eye of bloody newt as we speak,’ Edie muttered, dragging off her beret and tossing it across the room.

Mavis had already started to unpack but she looked up at the mention of food. ‘I could murder a cup of tea.’

‘Let’s go then,’ Edie said, scowling. ‘Anywhere would be better than this dump. It’s like a setting for a horror film.’

Jean patted Poppy on the shoulder. ‘You’re a saint for putting up with this place. I’m not sure I can stand it, though.’

When they reached the kitchen it was obvious that Mrs Toon had been primed about the arrival of the land girls. Nancy had laid the table for tea and the aroma of freshly baked bread made the girls stop in their tracks and sniff the air like gun dogs scenting the kill.

‘Cake,’ Edie said, licking her lips. ‘I ain’t seen one like that since they brought in rationing.’

‘Jam tarts.’ Mavis took a seat at the table and was reaching out to take one when Mrs Toon cleared her throat.

‘Bread and butter first, ladies. Cake and jam tarts later.’

Edie sat down next to Mavis. ‘It’s like being back in bloody school.’

‘And no swearing,’ Mrs Toon said sternly. ‘Don’t bring your city ways here. Remember there are young ears taking in every word you say.’

Mortified by the inference that she was too much of a child to mix with adults, Poppy decided to beat a hasty retreat. Her new friends were too busy eating to pay any attention to her and Mrs Toon was bustling about like a mother hen. Unnoticed, Poppy went outside into the stable yard and found Sid leaning against the wall, smoking a roll-up cigarette. She approached him cautiously. ‘You’re just the person I wanted to see.’

He flicked the butt onto the cobblestones and stamped on it. ‘Oh yeah?’

‘I need riding lessons, Sid. I know the last time was a disaster, but if you can teach me to ride Goliath then I might be allowed to help the land girls. I’m fed up with doing nothing.’

‘You were rubbish last time you had a go.’

‘I know, and I’m sorry I got you into trouble. It wasn’t your fault.’

He eyed her suspiciously. ‘What’s all this about, Popeye?’

‘I’m too young to be a land girl, but if I can prove to Mrs Carroll that I can do something useful she might let me join up. She says I’ve got to leave school
at
the end of term and I’m desperate to do something for the war effort.’

‘I tried to enlist but they didn’t believe me when I said I was eighteen, so I’m stuck here with all you blooming females.’

‘You could work in the munitions factory.’

‘Not me. I like the outdoor life.’ Grinding the dog end in with the toe of his boot he eyed her thoughtfully. ‘All right, I’ll teach you to ride, but don’t you dare breathe a word of it to me sister Violet. She’d think I gone soft.’

‘I don’t want Mrs Carroll to find out until I’ve got it right, so we’d have to do it on the quiet.’

Sid’s small eyes lit up and he grinned. ‘It would be us peasants taking a swipe at the ruling classes.’

‘Well, not quite,’ Poppy said, trying to be fair, but seeing the downcast look on Sid’s face she nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, you’re right, Sid. It’s us against them. Will you do it?’

He spat on his hand and held it out. ‘Shake on it, comrade.’

She shook his hand. ‘When can we start?’

‘There’s no time like the present. I’ve nothing better to do and I just saw Jackson driving the missis out in the Bentley. She’s gone to one of them committee meetings and then they’ll wait and bring the master back from the court house, so we’ve got plenty of time and no one will be any the wiser.’

‘Give me a few minutes to change.’

‘Okey-dokey. I’ll saddle up Goliath, or maybe you
ought
to start on Miss Pamela’s old nag, Romeo?’

Poppy shook her head. ‘No, it’s got to be Goliath. I won’t let this thing beat me.’

‘Suit yourself. See you in the paddock behind the Dutch barn in ten minutes.’ Sid strolled off towards Goliath’s stall, whistling an out of tune rendition of ‘Run Rabbit Run’.

Twenty minutes later, dressed in jodhpurs and an old jumper that was in need of darning, which was not in Poppy’s field of expertise, she went to the paddock and found Sid waiting for her with Goliath pawing the ground. Close to he seemed even larger than before and Poppy had to use a couple of bales of hay as a mounting block. Once in the saddle she felt sick with fear, but she gritted her teeth and did her best to follow Sid’s instructions.

Having shown her how to hold the reins and to sit with her back straight and her toes pointing upwards in the stirrups, Sid held the leading rein, walking the horse until Poppy was at ease in the saddle. Goliath behaved like a perfect gentleman, plodding sedately so that after a few circuits of the paddock she felt confident enough to allow Sid to stand back and watch.

‘Back straight, elbows tucked in, heels down,’ he said with a smile of approval as she rode past him for the second time. ‘You’re doing well, but I think that’s enough for today, Popeye.’

She reined in beside him and dismounted. ‘How did I do, Sid?’

‘You done well today. Tomorrow I’ll teach you how to rise and fall in the trot, and when you’ve got that I’ll saddle up Romeo and we can ride out together.’

Poppy returned to her room flushed with pride and excitement. She had ridden Goliath and not been afraid; well, not much anyway. Guy would be proud of her, and if she could show Mrs Carroll that she was a competent rider and had conquered her fear of large animals, she might allow her to work alongside the land girls. Suddenly life seemed full of possibilities. She settled down to write a letter to her mother.

Next day after church, Poppy could not wait to see how the girls had fared overnight in their new environment. As she entered the stable yard it was obvious from the pile of rubbish on the cobblestones that something was afoot. The tack room door was open and she went inside to find Mavis enveloped in a pinafore, scrubbing the deal table. The chairs were stacked in the corner and Jean, with her hair tucked up in a turban, was busy sweeping the flagstone floor. Dust flew up with each pass of the broom and eddies of dry leaves and straw were then trapped in a dustpan and deposited in a bucket. Sounds of water running and Edie’s high-pitched soprano voice singing rather plaintively ‘Somewhere over the rainbow’ emanated from the office next door.

‘I came to see how you’re getting on,’ Poppy said
lamely
. It was obvious that they were working hard to make a home for themselves, but she could not think of anything else to say.

Jean paused, leaning on the broom handle. ‘We’re getting there, Poppy. But there’s plenty to do. You can give a hand if you want to, but not in those clothes.’ She eyed Poppy’s outfit doubtfully. ‘Why are you wearing school uniform? It’s Sunday.’

‘I’ve been to church with Mrs Carroll, and she sent me to say that she expects you three to come with us next week, unless your religion forbids it, whatever that means.’

‘I’ll go,’ Mavis volunteered. ‘I would have made the effort today, but as the Bible says, cleanliness is next to Godliness, and this place needs a lot of hard work.’

‘I can’t speak for Edie,’ Jean said, smiling, ‘but I don’t mind showing up in church. At least it will be a chance to get out and meet the locals.’

Mavis winked at Poppy. ‘All the decent men will be away in the forces. You’ll be wasting your time, Jean.’

‘Well, there must be some social gatherings in the village, or at least a decent pub or two. We can’t live like nuns for the duration.’ She resumed sweeping the floor. ‘Move your feet, Poppy, and I suggest you go and change into something more suitable. This place is worse than a rat’s nest. Anyway, it’s almost midday. I assume we get fed at regular intervals.’

‘Mrs Toon usually does a roast on Sunday,’ Poppy
said
eagerly. ‘Although with rationing there’s more veg and less meat.’

‘How does she manage at all with rationing as it is?’ Mavis exchanged a puzzled look with Jean. ‘We’re only allowed one and tuppence worth of meat each a week at home. Is it different in the country?’

Poppy shook her head. ‘I don’t know, but there are always plenty of vegetables to go round and sometimes she makes treacle pudding and custard for dessert.’

‘Don’t tell me our holier than thou district organiser stoops to the black market,’ Jean said, smothering a giggle.

‘I don’t know what that is, but I’m sure Mr Carroll wouldn’t allow anything like that. He’s a magistrate.’

‘They’re often the worst,’ Mavis said, grinning. ‘Oh, don’t look so worried, Poppy. We’re just kidding. I’m sure we’ll get super food if Mrs Toon’s cakes are anything to go by.’

Jean wiped her hands on her apron. ‘She was quick enough to ask for our rations books, and we’ll be the ones helping to produce the food, so I should hope we get fed well.’

The clattering of a bucket and the sound of water swishing on the cobblestones outside preceded Edie as she burst into the tack room, red-faced and obviously out of sorts. ‘What a God-awful mess in that toilet. Anyway it’s clean now and I expect we’ll get rid of the brown stains in time as long as they don’t put bleach on ration.’ She paused, staring at
Poppy
with raised eyebrows. ‘Is it fancy dress or something? Why are you dressed like a posh schoolgirl?’

‘Shut up, Edie,’ Jean said crossly. ‘Poppy came to see if she could help us. She’s just been to church with Mrs Carroll.’

‘Oh, yes. The Sainted Marina. Well, I hope she doesn’t expect me to toe the line. I’m strictly nonconformist and I’m blowed if I’m going to waste my Sunday mornings sitting in a cold and draughty church.’

‘Not even if the vicar is a bit of a dish?’ Mavis asked innocently.

‘That may be your husband of choice, my girl, but I prefer my men a bit more worldly. I think I may go for the Sainted Marina’s son if he turns out to be a looker. I fancy a rich husband with a landed estate.’

The reference to Guy made Poppy feel distinctly wary and she backed towards the doorway. ‘I think I’ll go and change.’ She hesitated, wondering if she ought to explain why she was wearing her school uniform. It certainly was not from choice. ‘I had to wear this because it’s all I’ve got that’s suitable for church. I seem to have shot up since I came to live here and nothing fits. Even Miss Pamela’s cast-offs are getting a bit tight up here,’ she indicated her budding breasts, ‘and I’ll soon need a bras.’

Edie snorted with laughter, covering her mouth with her hand as she received a withering look from
Jean
. ‘Sorry, kid. But we generally call it a bra now. Bras is a bit old-fashioned.’

‘My gran calls it a bust bodice,’ Poppy said, frowning. ‘Anyway, I could do with one, especially in gym at school. Everything bounces when I have to vault the wooden horse.’ She stopped, staring at the red faces as the girls stifled their laughter. ‘What have I said that’s funny?’

Jean slipped her arm around Poppy’s shoulders. ‘Nothing, darling. We’re just in a silly mood. It must be all the bleach we’ve been sniffing. You go and get changed and after lunch perhaps you’d like to put in a good word with Mrs Carroll. We desperately need some mats or rugs upstairs and more blankets. My teeth were chattering in bed last night.’

Relieved to have something to do and glad that the embarrassing subject of undergarments had been forgotten, Poppy smiled. ‘Of course I will. But it will have to wait until after lunch. I’ll see you in the kitchen.’

‘Hang on a minute, kid,’ Edie said, frowning. ‘Don’t you eat with the family?’

Poppy shook her head. ‘I did once, at Christmas. I used to eat in the day nursery, but since Olive left to work in the munitions factory Violet has more work to do and anyway she never liked having to wait on me. I eat in the kitchen, or if Mrs Toon is very busy I take a tray upstairs.’