Poppy Darke

by Colin Wraight

  Poppy’s stomach turned. She liked her gramps, he was usually busy but always made time for her, and he was always such a laugh with his incredible tales and adventures. She wondered what he must be thinking now.

  “Right, smarten yourself up we’re here… And get rid of that gum.”

  Poppy rolled her eyes and shook her head as usual as she spat her gum into the nettles by the schools huge wrought iron gates. “You sure this is a school?” she asked in astonishment. “Does the Queen live here or something?”

  A wide gravel drive split manicured lawns in half for almost a mile before it widened into a car park. In the center lay a raised stone pond full of gold fish and a bronze mermaid holding a trident fired a fountain of water at least twenty feet into the air.

  The building was made of stone and had once upon a time been a rich aristocrat’s country pile. Giant stone pillars holding up a shield straddled huge double oak doors. The façade was one thing but as soon as Poppy entered into the reception suit it was just another school. It smelled like a school and it sounded like a school, but here was no inner city Comprehensive.

  It lacked the usual graffiti and litter; the floors were made of marble and were clean. There was no shouting; everyone seemed to whisper as though in a library. No one was in a rush and everywhere seemed calm and relaxed. The walls were adorned with real pictures and portraits. Not the usual mishmash of kiddie art and badly drawn pictures of pets.

  Two girls looked Poppy up and down as they skipped by arm in arm. One said something to the other and they burst out laughing. “Mum, I want to go home now.”

  “Ssh, you are home.”

  The receptionist put the phone down as soon as she spotted their guests walking down the drive. “Ah you must be Mrs. Darke, I’ll just see if the Head can see you now.” she said and smiled. “… And you must be Poppy. You’re going to love it here it’s truly a wonderful school.”

  She disappeared for several seconds before returning, still smiling. “Ms. Craven will see you now.”

  As Poppy duly followed the adults the floor stopped being marble and became plush red carpet. The walls weren’t stone anymore, now they were paneled with polished wood and the smell of lavender was growing ever stronger. She was still in the darkened hallway as introductions and handshaking was carried out and then the adults parted and Poppy was pulled into the room by her Mum.

  Mrs. Rawson closed the door quietly as she left. Poppy and her Mum were invited to take a seat. “You must be Poppy; I’ve been reading all about you.”

  This was the first time Poppy had got to look at Mrs Craven, and put off by her strange appearance struggled to think straight. “You get the Gazette all the way out here?” She asked, somewhat puzzled. She couldn’t take her eyes off this scary woman who on one hand seemed to actually like children and on the other looked disciplined and strict, there was a comforting fairness about her. Judging her age, Poppy guessed anywhere between a fast aging fifty year old or a very young hundred year old, it was difficult to tell. Her hair was the greyest of greys and cut short. The skin on her face sagged loosely around her eyes and her spindly hands were covered in liver spots. She wore a pinstripe trouser suit but hardly managed to fill it. Oddly, Poppy liked her; there was something about this woman….. Something special!

  “No child! I’ve been reading your file. I understand that in the past you have been in trouble several times with the police, and were permanently excluded from you last school for hitting a fellow student.” she peered accusingly over the top of her glasses.

  Poppy winced, when someone other than her Mum mentioned anything about her troubles it always sounded worse. The Head mistress was still staring at her and several seconds seemed to have passed. “You won’t be hitting anyone at my school I trust.”

  “No Miss.”

  Then she started talking to Poppy’s Mum again. “I’ve took the liberty of asking her old school for her academic grades for this last year. Unfortunately your daughter chose not to turn up for any test or exams.”

  Poppy could feel her Mums utter embarrassment and squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.

  “Therefore young lady!” she continued “You shall return here tomorrow at ten o’clock sharp. You shall be correctly attired for this establishment and have the proper equipment about your person… No magical hats at this school I fear...There will be tests, tests and more tests until we discover your academic ability…. Then and only then shall I put you in the relevant class….. Any questions?”

  Mrs. Darke almost raised her hand, she didn’t know what Mrs. Craven meant by ‘magical hats’ and then realizing what she’d done, blushed. “So you’re taking Poppy? Here? ….At this school?

  “Well to be honest, I haven’t got much of a choice have I. Virtually everything you can see is paid for by Nathanial Darke, her Grandfather. I dare say that if this young lady had started at this school most of the problems you’ve encountered wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Quite!” Mrs. Darke Replied. “I wasn’t aware of the full extent of my Fathers involvement with this school.”

  “He only increased his involvement ‘so to speak’, the day Poppy here became permanently excluded from her last school.” she smiled and took a sip of water. She wanted to talk to Poppy and tell her about the near future, but knew she must not for fear of changing the past. “A fortuitous happening wouldn’t you say?” she smiled again, not that anyone noticed.

  “Do you have a behavior therapist here? It was a condition of the courts that she speaks to one.”

  Poppy could tell by her mum’s tone of voice that she didn’t like Bernadette Craven one little bit. Maybe she could use that to her advantage.

  “Yes of course we do.” she smiled again. “But I’m sure that given time and the correct nurturing we can turn this rampaging tearaway into… Well… A little Angel!”

  Later that evening Poppy lay on her bed and stared at the grey pinafore dress, green cardigan and white blouse hanging up behind the door. “I can’t wear that!” she told herself. “I’ll look like a right idiot.” Her mum, the place, the people and that stinking school, she hated them all. After packing some clothes in a sports bag and fishing some coins out of her old piggy bank she opened her window, threw the bag down, and climbed down the drainpipe. “She’ll be glad when I’m gone!”

  Poppy wasn’t sure why she stopped, she just did, and crouched behind some privet bushes. There was something amiss; she just couldn’t put her finger on what it was. It’s like when you can’t quite remember a word or name and it sits on the tip of your tongue all day. She waited and listened, in the distance a dog barked and she could hear the tune of an approaching ice cream van.

  “Help…” the stifled word of despair was barely audible and Poppy wasn’t sure where it had come from. “Poppy… Help me…. Help!”

  “I’m coming Mum...” Poppy shouted and rushed inside, all thoughts of running away banished. “What is it...? What’s up with you?”

  Poppy’s Mum was on the floor between the couch and the coffee table writhing in agony. Her face and hair drenched with sweat and contorted in pain. “The baby…” she spat through clenched teeth. “The baby is coming… Phone an Ambulance.”

  She froze; her mind raced just trying to think where the phone was. “Right… OK… I’ll phone… You… you just stay there.” she momentarily forgot what she was doing and then remembered as her brain caught up with events. “Right… The phone… Where’s the phone?”

  Her Mum raised a hand and shakily pointed towards the kitchen.

  “The phone is in the kitchen…? Don’t move or anything… I’ve seen it on a film; I think you’ve got to breathe or something...Yes that’s it, you’ve got to breathe.” flustered, Poppy was rambling and she knew it. “What about hot water? Don’t you need hot water...? Or something? Hot water and towels?”

  “Get me a bloody Ambulance right now.”

  The commotion hadn’t gone completely unnoticed by the rest of Burnham’s
lowly, Jesse was watching through the window with a look of startled bewilderment on his face. He was only there because he’d followed his Mum when she’d realized what was happening next door, dropped her cup of tea and ran outside. He wished he hadn’t seen the vision of gore before him, Infact, he wished more than anything that he could ‘unsee’ it.

  She didn’t bother knocking, because no one would have heard her, she rushed straight in. “It’s alright Anne, I’m here now, is the baby coming? I heard you screaming.”

  Poppy’s Mum nodded wildly through the searing pain.

  “Ok… Don’t worry. I’ve done this before; I used to be a Nurse…its Poppy isn’t it? OK, have you phoned for an ambulance yet?”

  She didn’t wait to answer, just ran in to the kitchen and barely had time to dial 999 when she heard it for the first time. After torturous incarceration the beast had finally escaped its flesh and bone prison cell, apparently by tunneling for nine months. Poppy watched through a gap in the door. His tiny mouth seemed to open in slow motion as she savored her last millisecond of being an only child, and then the ceaseless, unabated crying began. “…And so the nightmare begins!” She said and tossed the phone in the sink.

  Jesse slumped down on the grass, his face a ghostlier shade of pale than usual. “I’m really going to need some counseling.”

  Chapter 7

  The last six hours had proved only one certainty; I-Pod headphones do not hinder the sound of a screaming brat in any way. Even with the volume on full blast all Poppy could hear over her music was the devil child crying for a reason no one seemed to understood, least of all his Mother. Maybe he was just crying for sheer fun of it all, he’d been fed, he’d had his nappy changed three times and he’d been sung to. His cries of need or pain or devilment were loud and Poppy’s Mum had to sing louder and louder just to hear herself. In the end the noise became a deafening cacophony of annoyance and irritation as the brat realized he was in a competition, and with unusual determination for a day old baby, upped his game.

  Unable to withstand one more second of that hellish madness, Poppy dashed outside and savored the cold wind on her face and peace in her ears. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly allowing all the days’ anger and frustrations to leave her body.

  It was rush hour in the sky as fluffy white clouds of all shapes and sizes peppered the big blue. The lazy sun shone down from above casting travelling shadows on the hillsides. Squabbling over shapes and haranguing each other for space they swept East across the Earth, migrating to a far off land. Poppy watched the bustling clouds for a time as she calmed down and wished she could sprout wings and follow the white carnival.

  The sound of a tractor racing into the village brought Poppy out of her daydream. It thundered to a halt in front of the ‘Black dog’ Inn and a crowd began to gather around. There was much arm waving and pointing as two men climbed onto the trailer, they leaned over and began poking something. She couldn’t quite make out what they were looking at, but the crowd was getting agitated. Excitement was visiting the village of Burnham’s lowly and Poppy wanted to see what it was all about.

  As she walked on the grass beside the road, there were no pavements in the village; she noticed Jesse sat atop a red Post office box. He was straining his neck to see what all the fuss was about and jumped down when he saw Poppy.

  “What’s going on?” Poppy asked, plunging her hands deep into her jeans pocket and nodding at the commotion.

  Jesse shrugged. “Dunno!”

  Poppy began pushing through the crowd. There was a knack to it, one she had picked up hanging about on the London Underground, you sort of turn sideways and slide between the bodies. She reached the front just as the crowd started to disperse, and found herself no better off, she couldn’t see over the top of the trailer.

  “You don’t want to see what’s on there!” said one man shaking his head, Poppy didn’t recognize him but somehow knew instinctively that he was Stanley the Greengrocer, and his wife of some thirty years was called Mable.

  Now she wanted to see more than ever. Spying a metal step just forward of the rear wheel, she placed her foot on it and waited for some angry voice telling her to get off. When none came she began hoisting herself up and suddenly found herself standing between the farmers and ……. A Policeman!

  The sight of his uniform sent shockwaves waves of terror cascading through her whole body and she stepped back as he turned to look at her. Teetering on the edge of the trailer Poppy was losing her balance and about to fall when a huge hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

  “What’s your name then girl?” asked the Policeman, he didn’t sound particularly angry. “Shouldn’t be up here! This is no place for children.”

  Poppy couldn’t speak; the Police always brought back memories of that day she was arrested. Her first thought was to give a false name but she couldn’t think of one. “P… P…Poppy!” she stuttered. “My… My name is Poppy Darke.”

  “Oh that’s right!” he said. “Happens that I went to school with your mum, heard you lot were coming back.” Then he turned to a potbellied man at the front of the now diminishing crowd. “Dave! Can you help this young lady down?”

  Poppy hadn’t noticed the flies, too busy thinking what to tell her mum about this latest arrest. She saw them now though, swarming all over the trailer by the million. Then as the farmer pulled back a tarpaulin an even worse sight tore into her eyes and burned itself permanently onto her brain. Her hand shot to her mouth, stifling a scream. “Get me down…” she shouted to the potbellied man. “Get me down… Hurry up!” Then she leaned forward and allowed him to lift her to the ground.

  Staggering to the Post office box she leaned around it and vomited. Some of the liquid burned her nostrils as it came out of her nose and made her eyes stream salty tears. She felt a hand on her shoulder and heard Jesse say. “What is it? What did you see?”

  Shakily, she wiped a slaver of sick from her mouth and looked over at the trailer. “Sheep… Dead sheep… Torn to shreds…and there was blood and…Guts everywhere!” she retched again, this time without fetching anything up.

  “Oh! Is that all? Sheep get run over by cars all the time around here.”

  “I’m no expert Jesse! But to me, they looked like they’d been….” her stomach turned once more, feeling nauseous made her panic, and she put a hand to her mouth.

  “What?”

  “They looked like they had been…Eaten!”

  Suddenly Jesse was interested again. “Were there claw marks? Had the bones been chewed on the ends? Was the guts ripped out or missing?” He spluttered.

  That feeling was back again. “Please shut up or I might just throw up all over you!” Poppy felt ill and wanted to go home. “What could do that?” she asked, but in her mind she thought that she already had the answer. “Was it them? Was it the Goyles?”

  “Don’t say that!” Jesse Snapped. “The Goyles would never do such a thing, they eat bugs and worms and they toast the occasional bat! They don’t slaughter farm animals to eat!”

  Poppy wasn’t listening to Jesse anymore, as he continued his rant about the Goyles. The two men had climbed down from the trailer and were having a heated conversation about the two sheep carcasses.

  The Policeman had his notebook open and was poised to write, but was shaking his head in disagreement. “…So what you’re saying is that you want me to put this down to a large cat attack?”

  “In my opinion, this all bears an uncanny resemblance to dozens of other attacks in let’s say, the last twenty or thirty years… Maybe more.” said the other man, whom Poppy took to be a vet, and began pealing surgical gloves from his hand. “I’ll carry out an animal post mortem this evening and e-mail you my findings as soon as possible. But I’m telling you… this is classic ‘big cat’.”

  The big Policeman snapped his note book shut and slid it into his pocket. “That’s fair enough.” he said. “I’ll wait for your report before I take things any farther.”

/>   Poppy watched him as he walked to his car; he was shaking his head and muttering to himself. She actually heard him say the word ‘balderdash’, but wasn’t sure what it meant. Word had spread and everyone seemed to be talking about a panther or a puma. There was one man, talking to potbellied Dave, who claimed to have seen it.

  “Blooming monstrous it was..!” He said. “…Was out setting rabbit snares up in yonder field and then I sees it skirting around the edge of the woods. I hid behind some brush; I was down wind of it see. I watches him and he turns, then I see those eyes… Those evil eyes. He looked right at me he did…” Suddenly realizing he’d said too much he went quiet and gazed up the hill at the woods.

  Dave was smirking at anyone in listening range and then he winked a couple of times. “Here then Eddy! Why don’t you tell us some more about this monster cat you saw? Or better still tell us about that time you were kidnapped… Was it by Aliens?” he was clearly mocking the old man, and even turned away to stifle a laugh.

  “No, I’ve said too much already. Who’s going to believe an old poacher like me anyway?” he said and gathered up his fishing gear. “You can laugh and snigger all you want, but I knows what I sees!”

  The old man hobbled off down the street, but had left his flat cap on the wall. Poppy saw her chance, snatched it up and ran after him. “Excuse me… You left your hat.” she didn’t recognize his face as such, yet sensed a familiarity. Like the tune to an old song she didn’t know the words to.

  He turned and in that second, time froze for Edward Cottrell, he couldn’t speak and he couldn’t move. His old brain shifted through the gears as it computed that little girl’s face, so familiar, a memory from… somewhere… some place. She was speaking again.

  “Your hat…”

  His tired old eyes flickered as his brain came to life. “Who are you then…?” memory cells fired at random, pictures flashed across his mind’s eye. “P…Poppy! Why… Why do I know you? I don’t know you.” his shifty, panicking eyes looked her up and down. “Who…?” suddenly he snatched the cap from her hands. “Leave me alone.” he barked and hobbled down the street as fast as his bandy legs would carry him.