Poppy Jenkins

by Clare Ashton

  “There you are,” Poppy whispered. That friend she used to know so well. The brilliant young woman, who could slay a fool with a single word but who brought unparalleled happiness to Poppy. The simple bliss on Rosalyn’s face and the way she moved without inhibition was magnetic. “It’s you again,” Poppy breathed.

  For a moment she was drawn into the room, wanting to run to her friend, but along the drive in the distance she could see Dai approaching. She picked up her baskets and hurried around the outside of the building.

  “Morning, Dai,” Poppy shouted. She stood in the doorway hoping to catch Rosalyn’s attention before Dai happened upon her private dance.

  Dai rubbed his hands together. “I’m looking forward to this. First proper meal I’ve had in weeks.”

  “I hope you like it,” Poppy said. She felt jittery at the prospect of Dai and Rosalyn critiquing her banquet sample.

  “Good morning, Poppy. Dai.”

  Poppy turned to see Rosalyn approaching. The pleasure from her dance was still rosy in her cheeks, but her expression was hardening.

  Come back. Poppy pleaded silently. Please come back. Her heart sank as she saw the uncomplicated glee fade from Rosalyn’s face.

  “I’m just putting out a table and chairs for our lunch,” Rosalyn said.

  “I know what I’m good for,” Dai tutted. “I’ll grab a table,” and he lurched away.

  Rosalyn turned to Poppy. There was a light in her eyes, and as she gazed the simple pleasure seemed to return to her expression. Soon she was beaming at Poppy, perhaps in remembrance, with delight in her face.

  “Hi,” Poppy whispered. “It’s good to see you.”

  Rosalyn’s eyes fixed on Poppy’s. “I missed you.”

  “Oh, I’ve missed you.” Poppy laughed. She’d been missing her for years.

  She reached out to hold Rosalyn’s hand and encountered her warm familiar touch. Their fingers entwined a moment, stroking together, before Dai returned brandishing a large table above his head, and they reluctantly pulled apart.

  “Right,” he said. “Where do you want us?”

  Poppy arranged plates on the table and unwrapped a foil blanket from around her containers. She served succulent slices of slow-roast lamb, crisp and crumbling rosemary roast potatoes and tiny bright peas, drizzled with a gravy rich in herbs.

  To her relief the dish was hot and the lamb moist and tender. It seemed to have survived standing and she watched keenly as Dai and Rosalyn sampled the food.

  “Oh, that’s nice,” said Dai. He looked at the piece of lamb on his fork with serious admiration. “So tender, and how did you get that intense flavour?”

  “Garlic and anchovies.”

  “What?” Dai curled his lips in distaste. “Did you say anchovies? Those rotten little fish people put on pizzas to stop you eating more than your fair share?”

  Poppy laughed. “The very same.”

  “Delicious,” Rosalyn said.

  “It’s a French recipe Welshed up a bit.”

  “It’s a little bit of alchemy,” Rosalyn said. “You can’t taste the anchovies at all. It just adds a level of complexity and depth to the lamb. It’s beautiful.”

  “I’m surprised,” Dai said, looking at the dish with suspicion. “But it doesn’t half taste good.” And he tucked in again with gusto.

  Dai polished off the meal with generous swigs of amber ale, and sat back with his hands resting satisfied on his belly. “Yes. Our Mary will like that too. Lovely.”

  “Good to hear you’re so in tune with your partner’s needs,” Rosalyn said, putting a delicate forkful into her mouth.

  “I wouldn’t say that. Certainly not within Mary’s listening. But I’d like to think she’d appreciate good food like this.”

  Rosalyn smiled.

  “Speaking of partners,” Dai said. “I bet Sam’s not too impressed with you spending so much time up here.”

  Poppy’s heart leaped in an altogether unpleasant way and even Rosalyn blanched. She put down her cutlery and cleared her throat. “No, she wasn’t pleased I went part-time, but she’s getting a good deal as my boss.”

  “But she must want you back. Hasn’t she tried to persuade you to stay in London?”

  Rosalyn dabbed her mouth with a paper serviette and looked evasive. “Yes, as a matter of fact she has. But it’s not up to her. Excuse me, I need some water.” And she got up and left the table for the stable kitchen.

  Poppy shot Dai a warning glance.

  “What?” he said looking innocent.

  “That was very personal.”

  “I’m doing you a favour. You need to know what’s going on.”

  “It’s none of my business what Rosalyn’s relationship is with Sam.”

  “Isn’t it?” Dai frowned. “I’m not a complete numbskull. I can see the way you look at her. Don’t you think you should find out?”

  “No, and will you go easy on her please. I want to be her friend and you need a wedding venue.”

  Dai made a grumbling sound that reverberated impressively in his baritone. “Well I don’t think you’re hard enough on her.”

  “I’ve had my moments, believe me,” Poppy said, regretting several occasions.

  “Well has she ever apologised?” He crossed his arms. “Has she ever said sorry or even acknowledged what she did to you in the sixth form was wrong?”

  The question surprised Poppy. So many things had happened since Rosalyn had arrived she’d begun to forget and forgive her friend.

  “No,” Poppy whispered. “It was a long time ago. So much has gone on since, it’s a bit much to ask of her now.”

  “I think it’s the least you can expect.”

  They fell into silence as Rosalyn’s footsteps approached. They both swigged from bottles of ale and put on a strange and strained smile to greet her return.

  Dai sat back and sighed. “I have an apology to make.”

  “Really?” Rosalyn said, her manner cold.

  “About the rugby.”

  Poppy rolled her eyes and sat back disappointed.

  “I’m sorry for ribbing you when the English got hammered by the French, you know, the other day.”

  “I told you, Dai, I don’t give a fuck about English rugby.”

  “Well, all the same,” Dai said, sheepishly. “The French just smashed the Welsh team so we’re all in the same boat now.”

  “Hmm.” Rosalyn stacked her plate and lifted her chair. “What a shame,” she said, and she started humming as she carried away her chair.

  Dai shrugged and took another swig of ale, but a frown rippled across his features. “What’s that tune?”

  Poppy and he listened as Rosalyn hummed a defiant and rousing tune ever more loudly.

  “It’s not…” Dai frowned with indignation. “That’s not the bloody Marseillaise is it?”

  “The French national anthem?” Poppy asked.

  They both stared after Rosalyn.

  She stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “Did I ever tell you my grandmother was French?” Rosalyn grinned at Dai with a devilish smile. “Allez les bleus!” she said as she turned on her heel.

  Poppy burst out laughing as Dai’s mouth dropped so wide you could have popped in a rugby ball.

  Chapter 40.

  Rosalyn watched Dai trundle down the drive and sipped the last of her sparkling wine.

  “Was I too harsh on him?” She smiled as if, regardless of the answer, she wouldn’t regret it.

  “No, he deserved everything he got.” Poppy grinned.

  “Good.” Rosalyn put down her glass. “Are you sure you have time to help with the lights?”

  “Of course. Pip and Nain are bringing the plates later and they can lend a hand too.”

  “That’s a relief, because there’s a bloody awful lot of them.” Rosalyn laughed.

  She stripped off her shirt and flung it over a chair. Beneath was a tight white vest, bright against Rosalyn’s tanned and toned arms. Her breasts were curvaceous an
d Poppy was drawn to the cleavage beautifully displayed by the vests’ generous neckline.

  “Shall we get the lights?” Rosalyn asked.

  “Hmm? Lights?” Poppy asked. “Yes. Lights.” And she bowed her head as she marched behind Rosalyn and her beautiful behind. Rosalyn’s voluptuous bottom swayed in tight jeans before Poppy’s eyes. She really did have a beautiful physique – athletic shoulders and arms but generous curves to her hips and bosom. It was so very tempting to reach out and stroke around their shape.

  That bottle of ale with lunch. Now that had been a mistake.

  Poppy’s admiration had been proper and restrained since Rosalyn’s return. Is that all it took to undo? Half a pint of ale? Rosalyn turned and Poppy found herself face to bosom with the object of her desire. The view was exceptional.

  Yes, half a pint was all it took.

  “Could you take these?” Rosalyn said. “I’ll bring the step ladder.” And she handed Poppy a large cardboard box of lights.

  “Sorry? Hmm? Oh, of course.” Poppy scuttled away with the box as quick as she could. She made herself busy, sorting through the lights, while peeping at Rosalyn’s return. Rosalyn’s figure was shown to yet more advantage as she wielded the tall step ladder and sprung it out in a swift movement. Her cheeks glowed and eyes shone as she smiled down at Poppy.

  “You know, I think I’ve had too much wine. Do you mind?” and Rosalyn gestured up the ladder.

  “Not at all,” she said, but Poppy avoided Rosalyn’s eyes, and every other part of her anatomy, and scampered up the rungs.

  Settled near the top, Poppy peered down for the first set of lights. That was a mistake. Rosalyn’s bust, beautiful from ground level, was divine from above. How long Poppy gazed into the soft depths of her cleavage, lost admiring the irresistible mounds and tantalised by the peaks of nipples, she had no idea.

  “Here you go,” Rosalyn said.

  A hand and a string of lights crossed Poppy’s vision. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

  But it was Rosalyn’s turn to be distracted. She was transfixed by the floor and stared steadfastly away while at the same time holding the lights aloft. Poppy blushed at her good fortune and snapped up the lights.

  As Poppy climbed higher, the ladder wobbled and she snatched at the top step.

  “Could you hold the ladder?” she asked timidly.

  Rosalyn turned with reluctance. She lifted her gaze to Poppy’s ankles, to Poppy’s knees at head height, beneath Poppy’s billowing dress then peeped up evasively at Poppy’s face.

  “Mmm hmm.” Rosalyn stepped forward and braced the ladder with her arms and again stared at the floor.

  Poppy climbed to the top and flicked the string of lights over a pipe. She stepped down slowly and shook the wire straight along the wall.

  “Erm… Poppy?” Rosalyn’s voice sounded muffled. “You might want to…”

  “What was that?” Poppy couldn’t see her. Where had she gone? Then she felt Rosalyn’s cheek on her thigh.

  “Oh,” Poppy gasped. The unexpected touch beneath her dress was thrilling.

  “Poppy?” Rosalyn spoke from beneath the material. Her breath was warm between Poppy’s thighs and she almost doubled over with arousal. Rosalyn’s lips stroked an inch away from where she ached with desire.

  “Oh,” Poppy moaned again. She clutched at the top of the ladder, but her movement met with another caress – a sweet kiss of her inflamed loins. Good god. Even the slightest contact sent flames of desire ravaging through her.

  “Cover your eyes, Pip.” Nain’s strident tones cut through the air.

  Poppy froze and stared with alarm at Nain and Pip in the doorway, all excitement extinguished. It was though she been doused with an icy bucket of water. There was nothing quite like the presence of her grandmother to savage any sense of desire.

  Rosalyn leapt from underneath Poppy’s skirt and a good pace away from the ladder. But the support now gone, the ladder wobbled and Poppy jumped to the ground before it could fall. She landed by Rosalyn’s feet, her body fell into her embrace and her face came to a not unpleasant slap in Rosalyn’s bosom.

  “Avert your gaze, Pip. Nothing to see.” Nain covered Pip’s eyes and her own.

  Rosalyn and Poppy sprang apart like two teenagers and stood to attention.

  Pip tutted. “Nain, I’m eleven. I know all about the birds and the bees, and the birds and the birds.”

  Nain pursed her lips. “That is as may be. But I’m not ready for a demonstration from your sister.”

  Poppy’s cheeks blazed and her heart thudded with such alarm she feared for her health. She was mortified Rosalyn had provoked intense arousal with a single touch and of all people Nain and Pip had been there to witness it.

  “Well, is it safe to look?” Nain asked.

  Rosalyn recovered first. “Of course, Mrs Jenkins. Just a misunderstanding and an unfortunate tumble from the ladder.” She strode towards Pip and Nain and chatted with ease, indicating the whereabouts of the kitchen and issuing instructions.

  Poppy remained paralysed with disgrace and could only watch as Rosalyn ambled after Pip and Nain to the old Morris Minor. Rosalyn glanced back to Poppy just once, but the longing that flared in her eyes was unmistakable.

  All afternoon, Poppy could feel Rosalyn’s presence the moment she stepped into the room. When Poppy turned, even if Rosalyn looked away, she knew Rosalyn felt the same way.

  Poppy watched her friend charm Nain and delight Pip. She sent the latter into the lofty heights to hang trails of lights while Poppy watched, itching to order Pip down.

  Poppy’s father stopped on his way to the lodge, and he and Rosalyn spoke quietly about a job there, both smiling with camaraderie.

  By evening, the tables and chairs were arranged, lights were hung and crockery was ready for the big day. Nain and Pip, both tired and irritable, had started bickering and Poppy encouraged them to amble home. She called out to Rosalyn to announce their departure but no answer came.

  She wandered back inside the stables, ducking from the large room into the smaller service area. She was about to call out again when she turned to the kitchen and found Rosalyn approaching.

  Poppy stared enthralled by her friend, Rosalyn’s face equally captivated by Poppy. Neither said a word. Rosalyn reached out and without realising Poppy slipped her fingers between hers.

  They stood close, the gap between them filled with warmth and excitement. Rosalyn dipped her head and Poppy felt humid breath on her lips. It tickled and Poppy opened her mouth in anticipation. She fell towards Rosalyn, her intimate presence irresistible, closed her eyes and gave in to the sweet touch of her lips.

  Poppy had never shared a more heavenly kiss. Her mouth slipped into Rosalyn’s and tingled with pleasure. The sensation flooded her body, radiating in waves from where their hands touched and lips joined. She drifted in a euphoric daze as they kissed with endless tender caresses, as if there were no greater pleasure on Earth.

  And when Rosalyn moved closer, their bodies suddenly touching, Poppy couldn’t help but clasp her hand around Rosalyn’s waist and pull her closer still. The warmth of their breasts, stomach, their thighs, all sealed together, made Poppy long to hold Rosalyn tight and never let go.

  Muttering outside from Nain and Pip broke the spell and they slipped apart.

  Poppy stared at Rosalyn, speechless at the enchanted encounter, the yearning of her body and the love suffused upon Rosalyn’s face.

  As she pulled away, Rosalyn reached out to hold her hand until the last moment. Poppy hesitated with their fingertips touching, then turned unable to speak.

  In a trance, she stumbled from the stables, the sensation of Rosalyn still thrilling on her body.

  Every step home tugged at Poppy’s heart, the temptation to turn and throw herself at Rosalyn overwhelming. Warm feelings and euphoria mixed with need and deep longing, but fear also lurked. She kept walking, her thoughts turning and emotions in turmoil.

  She hardly sa
id a word at home. Pip was away at a sleepover. Nain and Dad bickered in Welsh in the lounge. Only Emma kept Poppy quiet company at the kitchen table.

  Poppy stared at the scribbled wedding plan in front of her, no further elucidated than when she’d settled. Her mother sat with a novel open on the table but stared into the distance.

  “Why does she paint at all if she won’t do pictures that sell, that’s what I don’t understand?” Nain’s voice drifted into the kitchen.

  Poppy frowned, always uncomfortable when Nain and Dad talked about her mother in a language Emma didn’t understand.

  “Why does anyone do anything?” Dad replied. “Why do you clean the church? Why do I spend hours smoothing the bottom of a table? For the love of it, Mam. The best reason in the world.”

  Poppy noticed her mother’s lips twitch although her gaze remained clouded.

  “I suppose,” Nain admitted and she ruffled her shoulders. “Right, I’m off to bed. Can’t find my glasses anywhere so I may as well go listen to my radio.” Nain shuffled out of her seat. “Night you two,” she said switching into English.

  “Good night, Nain.”

  “Good night, Eleri,” Emma said.

  Nain bustled from the lounge with a pat of her bosom pockets for a last attempt to locate her glasses, and the front door shut to.

  Poppy smiled at her mother’s kind face although she was surprised to catch a sharp focus in Emma’s eyes. Her mother didn’t avert her look from Poppy but reached beneath the table to a chair and brought out a pair of bifocals. She laid them on the table with a satisfied smile.

  “Mum!” Poppy gasped. “Did you…?” Then she giggled. “How long have you been able to understand them?”

  Emma shrugged. “A few years now. Not every word by any means, but enough. I’d tell them if they said something that upset me, but they never do.” And she looked with deep affection at Poppy’s father.

  Poppy followed her gaze and watched Iwan relax with the paper, his feet up and a small whisky on the arm of the chair.

  “Now,” her mother said gently. “How about you tell me in plain English what’s bothering you?”