Jubilee (Book 1 of The Poppy Chronicles)

by Claire Rayner

  It was getting colder now and she felt hungry and thirsty and was beginning to think it might be quite a good idea to find a lavvy and she pulled on Mama’s hand to whisper to her; but Mama was too busy talking to the veil and Poppy decided it was better not to think about the matter at all and hope to get wherever they were going in plenty of time.

  The journey back in the carriage was interesting, but not because of what was happening inside it. Mama talked softly to her own Mama, who now looked a little better, for she had pushed back the veil as soon as she had settled into her seat in the corner, and she whined back, but Poppy didn’t listen, just as she hadn’t bothered to listen to the man who had talked about people who were dead being alive. If it wasn’t interesting, why bother? Especially when outside there was so much to look at: tall handsome houses with steps that led up to them from the pavement, and white pillars beside the front doors and railings and balconies and high windows with lots of curtains to be seen through the glittering clean glass. The houses ran away on each side as the horses went trotting along the road between them and looked as grey and black and white as the cemetery had looked, and just as beautiful.

  And when they arrived at the house she had visited before, Poppy had to say it also looked beautiful. She didn’t much like the people who lived in it – especially not the veiled lady and Wilfred and the horrid boy – but it was still very handsome and as she climbed the big steps behind Mama, who was helping her Mama to get up them (and every time Poppy thought of her Mama having a Mama of her own it seemed very strange) she wished she lived in such a house. What would be really nice, she decided as they stood at the top and waited for the people in the other carriages – of whom there were a great many – would be if a giant could come along and pluck up this house in his great hand and carry it away to Leather Lane, and push aside the little houses already there and tuck this one in the middle of them. And that was such a delightful thought that it made her smile widely.

  The boys who had been in the carriage behind which had also just arrived came up the steps just at that point and the youngest one stood in front of her and put both hands in his trouser pockets so that his coat bunched over his arms on each side, and stood and stared down at her, for he was considerably taller than she was. He must, she decided, be at least eight or nine. Very old. He had a dark suit just like the men, and a black tie and a black bowler hat which was now pushed back so that his fair hair flopped out in front over his forehead.

  ‘And what might you be grinning at?’ he said, as the other people, including Mama and her Mama went into the house after the man in the uniform, from last time, opened the door. ‘You look like a great stupid monkey, grinning like that.’

  ‘I was not grinning!’ Poppy said indignantly.

  ‘Yes you were. I saw you. Like this –’ And he bared his teeth in a ferocious grimace.

  ‘I did not!’ Poppy wanted to cry, she was so angry. ‘I only smiled because I thought of something funny.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I shan’t tell you.’

  ‘You must tell me. If you don’t I shall pinch you – like this –’ And his hand snaked out of his pocket and reached for her face and pinched her cheek hard and then went back to his pocket so fast she hardly saw it move. The pain of the pinch made her eyes water, but she was certain now that no matter what happened he wasn’t going to make her cry.

  ‘I shan’t, because you are a very rude and nasty boy,’ she said as loftily as she could and turned and went stomping into the house, going as fast as she could without looking as though she were running away. She wouldn’t let that horrid boy think she was afraid of him for anything; although of course, she was, very much.

  ‘Don’t you dare say I pinched you. If you do I shall tell them what a liar you are. You hear me? If you do, I shall say you’re a liar –’ He was immediately behind her and hissing in her ear.

  She ignored him and caught up with Mama, who had now reached the big room to which they had gone on their last visit and she stood beside her as she helped remove the veil and hat from the yellow curls and then helped her Mama to settle on her sofa.

  ‘Tea –’ Mama said to a servant who was standing behind the sofa and ‘Brandy,’ said Mrs Amberly at the same moment and the servant looked wooden and went away and came back with a tray on which a glass of brandy stood in solitary splendour.

  ‘Poppy, dear, go and –’ Mama looked at her a little distractedly. ‘There are some picture books in the nursery, upstairs. Go and look at them. And there will, I dare say, be a nursery lunch – I shall find you when it is time to leave.’

  ‘But, Mama –’ Poppy began but Mama frowned and shook her head.

  ‘Please, Poppy don’t argue. I really must talk to – you must leave me be. And there are so many people here that truly, you will not be comfortable. Go upstairs – ah! Harold! There you are – you can take Poppy upstairs to play, can you not? There, that will be nice. Off you go then. And be good –’

  Poppy stood there and looked at her and then at the boy identified as Harold. He was now standing with his hands still in his trouser pockets and his hair sleeked down, having taken off his hat and coat, and was looking at her with his brows a little raised, daring her to say anything to Mama, who was now fussing over her, taking off her hat and smoothing her hair and removing her coat. Her face was tingling still where he had pinched it and she wanted to rub it, but she wouldn’t, knowing that would make him look even more pleased with himself than he already was.

  ‘I’m not hungry, Mama,’ she managed at last. ‘I really don’t want any.’

  ‘Then don’t have any.’ Mama sounded thoroughly exasperated now. ‘You may eat when we reach home afterwards. But do go away. This is not the place for you at present. I would not have brought you here if I didn’t have to, and I will leave as soon as possible. But I must talk to Mama –’ And indeed the yellow curls were bobbing anxiously as their owner beckoned eagerly – ‘and as soon as I can, I promise we shall go. Now, upstairs, Poppy. At once. Take her away, Harold, and look after her. Carefully, you understand me?’

  ‘Yes, Mildred,’ Harold said with great politeness, and held out his hand to Poppy. ‘Come along then,’ he said with a bright voice and even brighter smile. ‘We’ll go and play, shall we?’

  So, she had to go with him. She couldn’t do anything else.

  36

  ‘But, Mama –’ Mildred said and then stopped. She had meant to protest, to say it was out of the question, but even as the words had begun to frame themselves on her tongue, she had known she could not. Was it not precisely the remedy she had been seeking? It might not be what she wanted but it was undoubtedly what she needed, and although it might not be an answer that would make her happy, her own happiness was, she had felt, beside the point. And anyway, how happy was she in her present situation? Yes, she was independent, yes, she had the control of her own life and her own child, but at what cost? And she remembered how she had felt standing there at the kitchen door on that foggy night staring in at Ted and his flustered excited face, and at Poppy, sitting wide-eyed in her armchair – and she took a deep breath and said nothing.

  ‘You must see that it is your duty, anyway, my dear Mildred. I know you behaved badly leaving us as you did, but I do not bear grudges and it is your duty –’ And she peered at Mildred over the rim of her glass – the third she had had, a detail Mildred had not been able to ignore – and blinked her red-rimmed eyes. ‘Your dear Papa would have wished it –’

  ‘Mama, if we are to talk sensibly, we must be honest with each other. I cannot subscribe to any myth about how good Papa was. He was monstrous. He treated me badly enough, but you little better. I left this house because I had little choice. I had no real home here and certainly no contentment. And I doubt you did either. His treatment of you made you ill.’ And she flicked a glance at the glass in Maud’s hand. ‘So let us have no inventions about his goodness.’

  The red-rimmed eyes filled up with t
ears again. ‘Oh, do not speak so, Mildred. He is dead, and he was your father. It is wicked to speak so.’

  ‘And it’s wicked to tell lies,’ Mildred said brusquely. ‘So we will not, if you please. Now, if that is understood, we may talk of your suggestion. If not, we must forget it.’

  ‘I would not tell lies for the world, Mildred, you know that. I try so hard to be good,’ Maud said and sniffed and looked about her for a servant. The room was still full of people, all eating cake and drinking brandy, and servants were moving among them with decanters but Mildred caught the eye of the one at whom Maud was signalling and shook her head, and the maid’s eyes slid away and she ignored Maud. That is another reason for agreeing, I suppose, Mildred thought and looked at Maud’s disappointed face and leaned over and took the glass from her fingers.

  ‘We shall get some tea for you, Mama, and then you must go and lie down and rest,’ she said firmly. ‘Perhaps we should not talk of this now –’

  ‘Oh, but we must, we must!’ Maud clutched at her hands tightly. Her fingers were hot and moist and Mildred gently withdrew her hand and patted her shoulder.

  ‘As long as you do not excite yourself, then,’ she said.

  ‘I shan’t. I promise,’ Maud said and tried to smile but it was a pathetic little grimace which made Mildred’s own eyes smart for a moment.

  ‘Very well. Now, listen, Mama. I have been my own mistress for some years now.’

  ‘Of course you have,’ Maud said eagerly. ‘Of course you have. And you are an excellent housekeeper, my dear. Why, when you were with us, I never had a moment’s anxiety about our situation. We were fed and warmed and all went well, but as soon as you went –’ She shook her head and looked about her, her eyes flickering as she sought to see someone with a glass of brandy she could have. ‘It was quite dreadful. Edward became so angry and the servants so insolent and the cook, oh, so hateful! Edward did not eat a meal in his own house for so long a time because it was so bad, and the boys complained and – and I was so afraid to speak to her – oh, Mildred, please to come back! I will do all I can to make you happy. You shall have your legacy – I told your Papa he was wrong to withhold it, indeed I did. I told him roundly, and was very definite. “It is not right, Edward,” I said, “that Mildred should not have her mother’s money,” but he paid me no attention at all for you know how very strong a man he was –’

  ‘He was not strong. He was a mean and greedy bully,’ Mildred said and once more Maud’s face crumpled.

  ‘Oh, Mildred, you must not say so!’

  ‘I must and I will. I needed that money quite desperately at the time and he withheld it on the merest whim of the law. There was no moral weight in his argument at all. I was a grown woman with a child of my own –’

  Maud shook her head dolorously. ‘It was a great disgrace you brought on us, Mildred. A great disgrace.’

  ‘Stuff and nonsense. It is no disgrace to you in the least. I went away and had my child on my own, with no support – or affection – from anyone here. That being so, there can be no disgrace on you. For you to share in what happened to me in any way, there had to be continued intercourse between us. As it was, we were strangers to each other. We still would be if it were not for Basil.’

  The tears began afresh. ‘Oh, dear Basil! He knew how anxious I was, and how despairing and it was so good in him to come and find you to bring you here to talk to Wilfred. Not that it made any difference –’ She lifted her head and then looked across the room to where Wilfred was standing with one highly polished boot on the fender and his uniform glittering with pressing and polish, talking to a group of admiring women. ‘But I am much less fearful now, for he agreed to apply for a posting here at home as long as I agreed to his joining, and dear Edward said he was able to arrange matters so that my darling boy would be safe and have a good job at the War Office, and indeed so it has been. And he does look so handsome in his uniform. It is such a comfort to me that he did not have to go to South Africa –’

  ‘He may have to go yet,’ Mildred said. ‘The news is not good and every man they can get is required, with Ladysmith still held, and Mafeking –’

  ‘But not my Wilfred,’ Maud said quickly. ‘He must never go. They promised me he should not. That he should stay here and work at the War Office –’

  ‘That’s as may be,’ Mildred said. ‘You say that Basil has gone –’

  Maud nodded. ‘He went in October last, on the Dunottar Castle, you know, with Sir Redvers Buller. I had one letter from him which he wrote in Durban but nothing since. But as long as my Wilfred does not have to go –’ She shifted her eyes to Mildred’s face again. ‘You see how it is with me? I am so nervous and so fearful that I am quite prostrate. I am a widow now and I cannot be alone, with my dear son at risk of leaving me at any moment and the little ones to care for – oh, dearest Mildred, please do as I ask! It is a small thing, after all! I wish you only to leave that nasty little poky house you live in – Basil told me, you see, and it is in the middle of a slum he says, and you work so dreadfully hard and it is quite wrong for a lady like you – you have to leave so little to come and be with me! This house is much more agreeable, you must admit, than a slum house and you must surely prefer to be here.’

  ‘My home is clean and well cared for –’ Mildred began hotly and then subsided. How could she argue? The house she lived in might be clean and well cared for, but it was in a slum. Not as bad a slum as some that London boasted, but for all that, a dubious area. Here amid the Portland stone and white stucco, the big rooms and the turkey carpets and big mirrors and costly furniture with which she had grown up she felt much more comfortable. To deny that would not only be dishonest but stupid.

  ‘I’m sure it is,’ Maud said. ‘You have such a gift for housekeeping, the mending you used to do so exquisitely – the boys were never so well furnished with their linen after you went away. And the cook was so much better and –’

  Mildred laughed aloud then. ‘Oh, Mama, really! I recall the sort of cook we had when I lived here and she was quite dreadful! The food she ruined was quite disgusting – I am better fed now that I have the cooking of my own victuals than I ever was in this house.’

  ‘There you are, then, another reason to return!’ Maud cried triumphantly. ‘For we are now even worse fed! Ask Wilfred if you do not believe me!’ And she lifted her head and called him eagerly, and he looked across the crowded room and smiled and said something to the women he was still with and made them laugh, and then turned to come towards where his mother sat, her face as pink with pleasure as a girl’s, waiting for him.

  ‘Does he not look quite wonderful?’ Maud demanded. ‘He is turning all the girls’ heads quite shamelessly.’

  ‘Do they know you have not yet had your eighteenth birthday?’ Mildred was unable to resist the barb, and Wilfred frowned sharply.

  ‘Now, hush! Papa, rest his wicked old soul, told them I was fully twenty for he was as eager to be rid of me as I was to go, and they, looking at my manly frame, believed him! So I won’t have you spoiling my fun with your tales –’

  ‘If they tried to send you to South Africa, you might be glad of such fun-spoiling,’ Mildred said and he grinned, easily.

  ‘Well, that is as may be. I won’t deny that the tales we are getting back from such battles as Magersfontein and so forth do not fill me with the desire to march into the veldt which I had when I joined. I was all for rushing off to the land of lions and tigers and striking noble attitudes, but I have a little more caution about me now – and I am having a splendid time, Mildred, at the War Office! The parties and the balls, you know and all the girls bowled over by my uniform and just a bit of clerical work to deal with – it has its compensations.’

  ‘I’m sure it has,’ Mildred said dryly and could not help smiling back. A villainous child always, Wilfred, but a likeable one for all that, and he was clearly still as much of a scamp as he had ever been.

  ‘Wilfred, dear, do you not agree it would be be
st if Mildred returned home now to live with me, now I am a widow? I need to have someone to care for me now your dear Papa has left us –’ And she wiped her eyes again ‘– and who better than my own dear daughter, which is how I have always regarded her?’

  ‘Who better indeed,’ Wilfred said heartily and grinned at Mildred. ‘But does she want to? It’s a pretty dull house, Ma, you must agree. And Mildred perhaps has a better time where she is.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Maud waved one hand in airy dismissal. ‘She lives in a slum house, do you not, Mildred? Poor dear Basil said so –’

  ‘I wish you would not speak of him so,’ Mildred said with sudden sharpness. ‘He is in South Africa fighting, perhaps, but you do not have to speak of him as though he were – as though –’ And she shook her head, furious with herself for not being able to say the words that had formed in her mind.

  ‘Of course he isn’t!’ Wilfred said cheerfully. ‘Old Bas knows better than to get himself wounded or killed. Good and scared he is, so he’ll take care of himself. I can’t imagine how he came to join in the first place. No sense of adventure in him at all! And here’s me, who only joined for the fun of a good scrap who’s learned the good sense of staying snug at home and fighting the war from behind the lines. Rum, ain’t it?’

  ‘Very,’ Mildred said and then sat and looked down at her hands linked in her lap. What was she to do? Here was the exact answer to her dilemma about how to protect Poppy. A home where the child would be not merely safe from dangerous influences but living in great comfort. Her small room at Leather Lane was as elegant as Mildred had been able to make it, but it had cold lino on the floor, and not a thick warm carpet as had the bedrooms here. There was no bathroom in Leather Lane and Poppy had to wash and dress before the kitchen fire like some servant, whereas here there was a vast enamelled iron bath and a beautifully warm tiled bathroom, fully equipped with brass hot water cans and basins galore. And when she was out of the house – and Mildred shivered as there rose in her mind’s eye a picture of the dilapidated building on the corner of the street where Ted and his family lived. Poppy could not be allowed to be out of her home without her, Mildred, to watch over her, and that meant her life would be that of a virtual prisoner if they stayed there. But here – and she lifted her head and looked round the room.