The Poppy Field

by Deborah Carr

  Not wanting their time to be marred by regrets, she distracted him by fanning herself with her clutch bag. “If I was at home, I’d be delighted with this heat,” she said, thinking about the large pond on her parent’s land that she swam in on days like these.

  “I agree,” Ed said, linking arms with her. “I long to discard this uniform, once and for all. It’s uncomfortable at the best of times, but in this heat, it’s not very pleasant. Enough grumbling,” he said. “We’re together in a beautiful village, on an almost perfect afternoon.”

  Alice sighed. He was right. She looked up to agree with him, when a distant barrage pounded making her flinch. “That seems rather close, don’t you think? Isn’t that the direction of Amiens?”

  Ed put his arm around her shoulders protectively. “It’s far enough away for us not to worry about it. Come along, let’s ignore it as best we can.”

  They reached the riverbank, with its worn path meandering along the water’s edge. “Did I tell you how happy I am to spend time with you here today?” Ed said.

  Alice giggled. “Just once, or maybe twice.”

  They reached a small copse of chestnut trees and Ed stopped.

  “Is everything all right?” Alice asked, wondering what had caused him to stop.

  “May I kiss you?” he asked, his deep voice cracking with emotion.

  There was nothing she would like more. “I’d be upset if you didn’t.”

  He pulled her into his arms, and placing his fingers under her chin, raised it slightly, lowering his head until their lips met.

  Alice melted into him. The blissful pressure of his firm lips on hers made her legs weaken. Ed held her tightly, one arm around her waist, the other hand gently on her neck. For several moments nothing else mattered.

  Ed took her hand and together they walked on, silently, each lost in their own thoughts. Alice wished this time together could last forever.

  She allowed herself to consider how it would feel to be his wife. She imagined them living in a small cottage somewhere, waking each morning knowing they were able to spend the entire day in each other’s company. Alice breathed in the warm summer air and smiled when she spotted the tiny white and yellow heads of the daisies along the pathway. Would this war ever end, she wondered? Could she dare hope that there might be a future for her and Ed?

  Ed gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Without stopping, or looking at her, he quietly asked, “Would you mind terribly if I wrote to Matron Bleasdale and told her that we were courting?”

  We are courting, Alice thought, unable to help smiling at hearing him say those words. “Dare we tell her yet?” She was unsure how Matron would take the news and was alarmed to think that she could be banned from contacting him. “She’s very proper and would take it badly if she discovered we had fooled her by meeting today.”

  Ed turned to face her. “My darling Alice,” he said, his eyes filled with so much love that she instantly knew that whatever he said she would agree to it. “We are apart most of the time. We don’t know how long this wretched war will continue.” He hesitated and took a deep breath. “Sweet girl, we don’t know if I will even survive.” She went to argue, but he placed his finger on her lips to stop her. “We both know there’s a high chance that I won’t. I want us to make the most of every second we have together, just in case.” He gave her hand a squeeze and she could feel him trembling. “I won’t let someone else keep us apart, if I can possibly help it.”

  Alice raised her right hand and rested it on his cheek. “Maybe leave it a little while before you write to her,” she agreed nervously.

  He kissed her. “One of these days, we won’t need to ask permission. We’ll spend all our time together, making up for the months we’ve been kept apart.”

  She liked that idea, very much, and was thrilled Ed had been thinking the same things as her. “I dream about that time,” she admitted.

  “I wish you didn’t have to leave so soon,” Ed said, pulling Alice into a kiss, once again.

  “Me, too,” Alice said.

  “I’ll write to you, using Peter’s name. If that’s acceptable to you?”

  Alice hated to see the concern on his face. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek in the same place her hand had been. “It is. But you’ll still have to be careful about the content of your letters, at least until you’ve written to Matron. Don’t forget that for now, you’re supposed to be my cousin.”

  He shrugged off his mood and smiled. “I’ll do as you ask. The last thing I want is for you to be in Matron’s bad books.” He smiled. “She’s a fierce woman.”

  “She is,” Alice laughed, relieved. “Although the longer I know her the more I realise that she does have our best intentions at heart. Although to be honest, I hoped that coming to France would take me away from the confines of my parent’s rules. I seem to have swapped them for Matron’s.”

  “I feel the same way about being in the army,” he agreed as they walked on. “When I do write to her, I’ll do my best not to antagonise her. I do believe, though, that we need to take a little control and try to spend as much time together as possible.”

  “I agree,” she assured him, secretly dreading Matron’s reaction. “Until then, we’re going to have to carry on communicating through Peter.”

  “It’s a good thing he doesn’t mind,” Ed said. “Although I saw his face when Mary arrived and by the looks of it they’re smitten.”

  Alice looked over at their friends. They did seem to be enjoying each other’s company. “If that’s the case, then he can simply send messages from my fictitious nephew Stuart, like you did in your letter.”

  “I’m sure he won’t mind,” Ed said. “I think he might get a little confused with our letters and the ones I’m presuming he’ll begin writing to Mary after today.” He watched them thoughtfully for a moment. “I’ll do as you suggest.” Ed said, laughing as he picked her up and swung her around before placing her back on her feet. “You’re very clever, young lady,” he said, kissing her on the tip of her nose. “That’s a good plan.”

  Alice squealed. She spotted an elderly couple glaring at them disapprovingly and patted Ed’s shoulder. “Better put me down,” she giggled. “I think we’re making a show of ourselves.”

  “Can’t have that,” he said, doing as she asked.

  She gazed at her beloved Ed, relishing the precious time being close to him. Her attention was distracted by Mary and Peter approaching them. Alice was amused to see Mary laugh at something Peter was saying to her and was delighted Mary seemed to be enjoying the day out as much as she was. Alice hoped something would become of Mary and Peter’s friendship. Despite Mary’s cheerful countenance most of the time they were alone in their tent, Alice suspected her friend was lonely, too.

  “Sorry friends,” Peter said, pulling a sad face at them as a butterfly floated near his head. “It’s time we returned to the hotel. We don’t want these young ladies missing their lift and being banned from meeting us in the future.”

  Alice and Mary exchanged glances. So, he does want to see her again, Alice thought happily. By the look on Mary’s face, she approved of this proposition.

  “No, we don’t,” Ed said, linking his arm through Alice’s as they turned around and began walking back in the direction of the hotel. “Why is it that when you’re sitting for days in the trench time stretches endlessly ahead of you, and an afternoon like this one it vanishes in a flash?”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Alice admitted sadly, hugging his arm closer to her. “We’ll have to find a way to do this again, soon.”

  Chapter 18

  Gemma

  2018

  Gemma set about cleaning the fireplace and preparing paper, kindling and a couple of logs to light a fire later that afternoon. She wanted to warm the place up and lose herself in some of Alice’s letters to take her mind off Tom’s departure.

  As if he had heard her thoughts, Tom’s heavy footsteps clomped down the stairs into the living
room.

  “Having fun there?” he asked smiling and looking rather gorgeous.

  Gemma sighed, wishing he didn’t have to go. “Not really.” She swept up the mess that she had made from some escaping ash. She wished she could tell him how she felt. She’d never minded being alone before, but she hadn’t known Tom then.

  “Need help?”

  “No, but thanks.” She looked concerned. “We’ve been getting on so well with the work, that I’m a bit down about you leaving, that’s all,” she admitted, surprised by her boldness.

  “I understand how you feel. I’d rather stay here and get on with the renovation work, too. I can’t put them off again though, unfortunately.”

  Realising he’d misunderstood, Gemma couldn’t help feeling slightly relieved. What would she have said to him if he’d gone deeper into the conversation? She wasn’t sure. “I’ll just have to prove to you how much I can do in your absence,” she said, smiling. She thought of Alice’s letters. “I’ve set up a fire and will catch up with some reading first though.” She glanced at the black tin box. “I’m trying to savour them.”

  “I look forward to you giving me an update when I get back.”

  She watched him walk through the living room to the back door and begin putting on his dusty boots. Gemma opened her mouth to speak, when she caught him wincing.

  “Is there something wrong?” she asked, without thinking.

  “No,” he looked over his shoulder at her. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  She could see he wasn’t willing to talk about it and wondered if the work at the farm was getting too much for him. If he was in pain, then she didn’t mind risking annoying him. Getting up, she went to join him in the kitchen. “Sorry, Tom,” she said nervously. “I know you’re very private about your injury, but if the constant climbing up and down ladders is causing you problems with your leg, then you must tell me.”

  He straightened up. “I’m fine,” he snapped. “I’ve lived with this for a long time and I’ve never let a client down yet.”

  Gemma cringed. “I’m sure you haven’t,” she said. “I was only trying to—”

  “What?” He glared at her.

  “Look,” she said embarrassed to have caused antagonism between them. “You don’t have to be defensive. I thought we knew each other well enough to be straight with each other. There’s no need to take offence.”

  He bent down to continue doing up his boots. “You’re right. I apologise.”

  She wished she could take back what she’d said. “We are friends, aren’t we?” she asked hopefully. “At least, I thought we were.”

  He sighed. “Look, let’s forget it. I’m sore, but fine. No need to worry, I’m tougher than you think.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” she said.

  They glared at each other for a few seconds before bursting out laughing.

  “Our first quarrel,” she teased, relieved.

  “I doubt it’ll be the last,” he winked, shaking his head. “I’ll leave you to get on with your reading.”

  “It’s a shame I already know there isn’t a sequel.”

  Tom shrugged. “There might be another tin somewhere? Maybe we just haven’t found it yet.”

  Gemma loved the idea. “I doubt it, but we can hope.” She watched in silence as he crouched down and finished tying his laces.

  Tom pulled the last one tight and stood up, staring at her. “I’m sorry to leave you so soon,” he said.

  She didn’t want him to feel guilty. If he hadn’t stepped in when he had, then very little progress would have been made.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said, slapping him lightly on the side of his arm. “I’m grateful to you for all you’ve done here.”

  “And I’ll be back in a few weeks,” he said. “You’ll soon get used to enjoying your peace without me here.” He smiled cheekily at her.

  She doubted that very much. “I’m not so sure,” she said, not meaning to say it out loud. “But I will focus on doing as much as I can, if only to be able to show it all off to you when you’re back.”

  Tom lifted his jacket off the hook on the back of the kitchen door and slipped it on. “Well, that’s me then.” He went to say something, and then hesitated.

  “What is it?” she asked, willing him to kiss her again, just once. Her lips still felt the pressure of his lips against hers from when he had last kissed her.

  He looked down and when he caught her eye again, shrugged. “Nothing, I, um, I’d better get going. I’ll see you as soon as I can get back here.” He opened the kitchen door, but before walking out of the farmhouse, Tom turned and said. “If you need anything, call me. I can be here in no time.”

  Not wishing him to worry about her, Gemma shook her head. “Yes, I know. Bugger off now. I’m a big girl and used to living alone,” she said pushing him gently out of the door.

  “So, we’re both a lot tougher than the other gives us credit for then?”

  “Seems like it,” she agreed. “Right, go. I’ll see you soon.”

  He laughed. “See you in a few weeks then. Bye.”

  She closed the door before he could see her staring mournfully after him. “Get a grip, Gemma,” she mumbled to herself, walking over to switch on the kettle. She hoped he believed her false bravado.

  When had she become reliant on others, she wondered? She had enjoyed living alone in Brighton for the last few years and had never needed anyone then. Why was she feeling so lost now? For some reason Tom had shown her that it could be fun to spend a lot of time in someone else’s company. She needed to be careful not to become too reliant on him. It would be more upsetting for her when he finished working at the farm.

  Irritated with herself, she thought about Alice and Mary and all that they had endured. It was time to claw back her inner strength and get on with renovating this house. Once it was sold she could decide what she wanted to do with her life, and where she wanted to go.

  Gemma went upstairs to see what work Tom had done that day. Opening the spare bedroom door, she stepped inside and couldn’t help smiling. Once the plastering had dried, it would be ready for her to paint the walls. She looked forward to buying a new mattress and some bedlinen for the bed and making this room look homely.

  “A few pieces of furniture wouldn’t go amiss,” she said. “In fact, I could do with some in the living room,” she mumbled to the empty room. If she lived here by herself, she thought, she would have to adopt a rescue dog. Then she would have someone else to talk to. Just as she was getting used to the idea she realised miserably that she wouldn’t be living here, alone or otherwise.

  Gemma thought about taking a walk to the village and asking about second-hand furniture stores nearby. It would cheer her up and take her away from the solitude at the farm for a while. She decided that first thing the next morning she would go and try to source a few pieces to brighten up the farmhouse.

  Gemma was woken by the sun streaming into her bedroom. Noticing it was just after seven, she stretched and got out of bed. Once downstairs, she made some toast and coffee and sat down at the table in the living room to make a list of the furniture she might need.

  She scanned the living room with its table, chairs and two old armchairs. “Definitely newer armchairs,” she said, looking forward to the day when she could burn these two. “And a side table.” She could do with some soft furnishings, too, she mused, like cushions and perhaps a rug for in front of the fireplace. The spare room would need at least one bedside table, a chest of drawers and if possible, a wardrobe. It wasn’t all the place needed, Gemma thought, but it would be a start.

  After breakfast, she showered and dressed, walking into the village with her list. She popped in to see Marie, and unable to resist, bought a baguette and two croissants.

  “Do you know where I could buy some second-hand furniture?” she asked as she delved into her purse for a few euros to pay for them.

  Marie frowned and shook her head. “Pardon?”

  Gem
ma realised she didn’t understand her. She tried to think of a way of saying ‘second-hand’ and pointed at a nearby table and chairs and said, “Old? Not new? Um,” She thought for a moment, trying to recall her schoolgirl French and wishing that she had had time before coming to France to refresh herself a little. “Où, um, je acheter des tables des chambre et des chaises?”

  Marie looked bemused for a moment and then began to laugh. Soon she was doubled over, tears coursing down her lined face. “Pardon, Gemma.”

  Gemma was not sure what could be quite this funny and was a little irritated at Marie’s mocking. At least she had tried to speak French.

  Marie glanced at her and shook her head, wiping her eyes. “Non.” She took a deep breath. “You have asked for buying a room, table and chairs.”

  Gemma groaned and smiled. She really needed to work on her command of the French language. “Sorry, I mean, pardon,” she said.

  Marie smiled. “The market? It is mostly legumes, um vegetables. Today, it is other things. Look, over there.” She pointed towards the busy market area in the square across the road from her café.

  Gemma studied the stalls and noticed one at the back by a high wall looked as if it was selling furniture. “Oui, merci,” she said, delighted.

  Marie rang up her purchases and handed Gemma her change. “Bon chance,” she said, as Gemma took the bag of food from her hand and left.

  She hurried across to the furniture stall and seeing a bedroom set of a walnut chest of drawers, wardrobe and two bedside cabinets, asked the stallholder how much. His English must have been as lousy as her French, Gemma assumed, when he totted up the amount on a small calculator and pointed at the screen to show her the total cost. It was more reasonable than she had expected, but aware that he would expect her to haggle, she shook her head, took the calculator and tapped in an amount that was five percent less. He tilted his head to one side and then the other, looking as if he was trying to decide whether to accept and then reached out his hand for her to shake it.

  “You can deliver?” she asked. “Sur the voiture, a la ferm, dans la Rue de L’Eglise?”