‘Mu-um?’ Jonty shouted.
‘Yes, love, coming! I’ll be back in a little while, Mum, to get your breakfast. Okay?’
Ida reached for her tea, made with chilled milk, and ignored her daughter.
It was a day like any other.
2
Nineteen Years Earlier
Her dad was outside, as if waiting to greet her. ‘What time do you call this then?’ His voice was stern, but his smiling eyes gave him away.
Jacks laughed at him as he stood in the middle of the grass, his shirtsleeves rolled high above the elbows, leaning on the handle of the lawnmower and pulling his serious face. The smell of cut grass was intoxicating, reminding her of sunshine and lazy, school-free days. The grass as ever looked immaculate, as did the straight, weedless borders. He never tired from telling her that, like a good haircut, his lawn required regular attention.
The summer holidays were right around the corner and she couldn’t wait! Six whole weeks when she would never be out of shorts and wouldn’t have to wake to the dreaded alarm clock. It was when Weston-super-Mare sprang to life, tourists filling the B&Bs and unfamiliar faces adding variety and excitement as they strolled along the Marine Parade. It was the time of year when everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Money came in as people queued for ice cream, chips and donkey rides. Laughter and the scent of suntan oil floated in a pungent cloud that settled in even the grimmest of corners, lightening the mood all round.
She looked at her watch. ‘Nearly 5.30!’
‘Good day at school?’ he asked as he lit a cigarette and drew heavily on it, inhaling deeply like it was fresh air and flicking the match twice to make sure it was extinguished, as was his habit.
She nodded; it had in fact been an exceptional day. A bubble of excitement floated from her stomach up into her throat.
‘How did netball go?’
‘We won! Despite the umpire being really rubbish. She was totally on their side. I was trying to shoot and their goal attack made contact, loads of times! She just overlooked it! And it was right in front of her. I wanted to go mad, but I knew I’d get into trouble so I didn’t say anything.’
‘But you won anyway?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, there’s a lesson there then.’ He nodded sagely.
‘What lesson?’ Jacks pushed up the sleeves of her cardigan.
Her dad scratched his chin. ‘I’m damned if I know, probably something like, it’s good to think before you act, keep a calm head, that kind of thing. But you won anyway, so who cares!’
He trotted over and placed his cigarette-free hand around her shoulders, pulling her towards him and kissing her scalp. He then showered her with a handful of cut grass he’d gathered for the purpose.
Jacks shrieked and jumped backwards, shaking her long hair as she patted her shirt and skirt. ‘Da-ad!’ She instinctively looked towards the kitchen window, where her mum stood at the sink with pursed lips and a straight back. Jacks felt the disapproval dripping off her.
‘Ooh, look, the fun police are on patrol.’ Her dad jerked his head towards the house and pulled a wide mouth. ‘No spontaneous laughter, you have been warned!’ He winked at her.
She wanted to laugh, to come back with a retort, but the feeling that she was being disloyal to her mum kept her silent. It had always been that way. As an only child she regularly felt like a referee, caught in the middle of their daily, long-drawn-out battle.
‘Got any homework?’ he asked.
‘A bit. I’ve got to read a scene from Oscar Wilde’s An Ideal Husband. And I have to draw a graph for business studies.’
‘An ideal husband? Well, I can help with that. It was probably written about me!’ He leant back and laughed loudly.
‘Not sure Mum would agree.’ Jacks pulled her bag up on to her shoulder and made towards the house.
‘Love, if I said black, your mother would say white. She doesn’t agree with anything I say.’
Jacks ignored him and pushed open the back door. Not wanting the seesaw of emotions to spoil this wonderful day.
‘Tea’s nearly ready.’ Her mum spoke quietly as she poured a steady stream of salt into a pan of boiling water, into which she would tip the carrots she had peeled and sliced. ‘You’ve got a few minutes if you want to take your stuff upstairs and get settled. I’m just going to lay the table.’
Jacks nodded, her eyes wandering over the mess that her mum always created when she prepared the evening meal.
‘What were you and Dad laughing about? I saw you larking about in the garden.’ Ida smiled briefly as she gathered the knives and forks and the tomato ketchup bottle.
‘Nothing.’ Jacks shrugged, feeling her cheeks flame as though laughing with her dad was not allowed.
She climbed the stairs, kicked off her shoes and pushed her over-the-knee socks down, rubbing where the tight elastic had cut into her thigh, before flopping down on her bed. She stared up at her poster of Take That before pulling her notepad from her bag. She wrote the word for the first time, encircling it in a heart. Sven. Sven. This was the word that danced in her mind and sat on her tongue. Sven. He had been at school for the last six months, but apart from her having noticed his shock of blonde hair and rather nifty home-knitted jumpers, they had had little contact. He was one of the clever kids and was in some of her classes, and she had listened and smirked with her mates at his pronunciation of certain words, which often left a lot to be desired. She had watched in the dinner queue as some of the boys in the football team had asked if he was a member of Abba and if his mum and dad owned a Volvo. He had responded quickly that they were being ridiculous, of course his parents didn’t own a Volvo, but, yes, he was in fact Agnetha, from Abba. Sven. She wrote it again and then wrote Jackie Lundgren by the side.
‘Tea’s ready!’ her mum called up the stairs. Jacks shut her notebook and placed it under her pillow, ready for further doodling in later.
She slunk down the stairs, pausing at the hallway mirror to push up under her boobs, which she wished were bigger. Her friend Gina had massive boobs, although comparison was probably stupid as she and Gina were about as opposite-looking as they came. From the side they gave a slight bump to her shirt, but head on, she looked flat.
‘What you looking so glum about Missus?’
She looked up at her mum. ‘Nothing. Just wishing I looked a bit more like Gina.’
‘Gina?’ Her dad laughed. ‘You’re kidding! I’m not being mean, but if ever there was a girl that had to rely on her brains, it’s her. You, on the other hand, can do like the rest of the family and use your good looks to get you far.’ He batted his eyelashes.
‘Don’t flatter yourself. Your side of the family maybe, but my dad was very clever.’ Ida muttered as she put the plate in front of her daughter. ‘He was quite high up at the Gas Board. A very astute man, had a small fortune in Premium Bonds.’
Her dad pulled a funny face. ‘Oh yes, the mysterious Premium Bonds! Tell you what, Ida, if they really existed, we’d have cashed them in years ago and had a couple of weeks in Tenerife! But until I see evidence of their existence, it’ll be a week in the caravan as usual.’ He laughed.
Jacks studied the carrots, peas, boiled spuds and individual chicken pie that had puffed up on top, just the way she liked it.
‘Cor, this is lovely!’ She watched as her dad, with his mouth full, winked at his wife and she saw the way her mum’s face split with joy at the compliment he gave. As if she couldn’t help it. Jacks chased the peas around the plate and wondered what Swedish people ate for tea.
‘Penny for them, Dolly Daydream?’ Her dad reloaded his fork with gravy-rich pastry and a couple of carrots.
‘Huh?’ Jacks hadn’t been listening.
‘You’re miles away, not still brooding over your biased umpire?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I was just wondering what Swedish people have for their tea.’
‘Ryvita probably. That’s Swedish.’ Her mum nodded, certain of th
e fact.
‘And fermented herring,’ her dad added. ‘I remember a bloke I worked with on the rigs telling me about it. They let the fish go off in a tin and then eat it the next year, or something like that.’
‘God, that sounds horrible!’ Jacks grimaced.
‘Why the interest in Swedish food all of a sudden?’ Her dad spoke with his mouth full and a couple of peas nearly made a quick getaway; he pushed them back in with his tongue.
‘No reason, it’s just a boy in my year is Swedish, he’s called Sven.’ She was delighted to have the opportunity to mention him, to say his name out loud.
‘Sven, eh? Isn’t he one of the blokes from Abba?’ Don smiled at his daughter.
Jacks laughed loudly. ‘No! He’s very clever and funny and…’ She once again pictured his face, his thick hair, his intense stare. ‘His dad’s an architect, works in Bristol, lots of kids take the p… mick out of him, but I think he’s just quirky, a bit different.’
She saw the look her parents exchanged. ‘Thought you liked Peter Davies?’ her mum asked as she squashed peas on to the back of her fork.
‘I do. But we’re just mates.’ Jacks concentrated on her plate of food, trying to erase the memory of their snog on the dancefloor of Mr B’s nightclub.
‘His mum thinks you’re more than mates, she told me you were going out with him. And he’s quite smitten apparently,’ Ida commented innocuously.
Jacks cringed. She had moved on from Pete and to be reminded of their connection irritated her. ‘Pete’s a plonker. Walks around like he’s Gary Lineker.’
‘He’s got a trial with Bristol City,’ her mum added, passing on more snippets of gossip.
‘Yes and don’t we know it, it’s all he talks about. Sven isn’t sporty, he’s going to go to university.’
‘Sven, Sven, Sven! I think I know someone else who’s a bit smitten.’ Her mum spoke to her dad over the table as if she wasn’t present.
‘I’m not!’ Jacks shouted. ‘He’s just a boy in my year, that’s all!’
‘Good,’ her dad said. ‘Peter’s a nice boy and we know his mum.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Jacks shouted back.
‘Stop yelling!’ Ida said. ‘There’s no need for dramatics.’
‘Dramatics? I don’t think I’m being dramatic, there’s you both telling me I practically have to marry Peter Davies just cos you know his mum!’
‘We never said anything of the sort!’ Ida tutted. ‘Honestly, Jackie!’
‘Good, cos I think I can do a bit better than a footballer who’s going to leave school with just enough qualifications to work in Maccy D’s.’
‘Don’t be so mean,’ Ida said.
‘I’m not, just truthful. Pete’s all right, but he’s not really my type. He’s staying in Weston, close to a football field, and I want to go to college and travel.’
‘To Sweden?’ her mum asked.
‘She can go anywhere she likes, can’t you, love?’ Her dad, ever supportive, smiled at her.
Ida placed her cutlery on the plate. ‘Of course she can. I didn’t say she couldn’t!’
‘No, but your face implied otherwise.’ Don shook his head.
‘Well, we all know you’d rather not have to look at my face.’
‘Oh, here we go…’
Jacks slipped from the table and up the stairs. She lay on her bed and could hear the burble of their row rising up through the floor. Flipping open her notebook, she ran the nib of her pen over the heart in which sat the name of the object of her affection. Sven.
Available now
About Another Love
In the early years of their love affair, Romilly was happy. She had worked hard for her stunning, modern house in one of Bristol’s most fashionable suburbs. She adored her gorgeous, gap-toothed daughter and her handsome, kind husband. Sure, life was sometimes exhausting – but nothing that a large glass of wine at the end of the day couldn’t fix.
And then a new neighbour arrived and everything unravelled. A glass of wine became a bottle; one bottle became two. Romilly’s family were once everything to her. Now, after years of hiding the drinking, she must finally admit that she has found another love…
Reviews
‘A cracking page-turner’
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‘This story of a woman’s fight to rebuild her shattered life is captivating, heartbreaking and superbly written.’
Closer
‘An absolutely gripping read… the characterisation is done superbly.’
Iain Dale, LBC Radio
‘Great novel – let’s get it to number 1!’
Gok Wan
‘Poppy Day is a brilliant book, I couldn’t put it down.’
Carol Vorderman
‘A rattling good book to curl up on the sofa with, I thoroughly recommend Poppy Day by army wife Amanda Prowse. She has turned her own fear and anxiety into a page-turning novel of loss and courage.’
Lorraine Kelly, The Sun
‘A modern day love story.’
Daily Mail
‘A deeply emotional story of a woman who will stop at nothing to save the man she loves… A fast, unputdownable read, Amanda Prowse adeptly fuses a tale of love and courage with the stark realities of war, both on the field and at home.’
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‘This romantic story of courage and determination is simply captivating.’
Closer
‘Army wife turns fear into fiction.’
Sunday Mirror
‘Set to become a bestseller.’
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‘Heartbreaking, but uplifting.’
Carol Vorderman
About Amanda Prowse
AMANDA PROWSE has always loved crafting short stories and scribbling notes for potential books. Her first novel, Poppy Day, was self-published in October 2011 and achieved a number one spot in the eBook charts. She was then signed up by publishers Head of Zeus. Perfect Daughter became a number one bestseller in 2015.
Amanda lives in Bristol with her husband and two sons. She has now published ten novels and four short stories.
You can follow Amanda on Twitter @MrsAmandaProwse, become friends with her on Facebook, or visit her website and sign up for her newsletter www.amandaprowse.org
Amanda Prowse’s No Greater Love sequence is a series of contemporary stories with love at their core. They feature characters whose histories interweave through the generations: ordinary men and women who do extraordinary things for love. They are stories to keep you from switching off the bedside lamp at night, stories to remember long after the final page is turned...
Poppy Day
Ever since hairdresser Poppy Day married her childhood sweetheart, Mart, she’s been deliriously happy. Now Mart is fighting in Afghanistan, and Poppy is counting the days until he returns.
It takes one knock at the door to rip Poppy’s world apart. Mart has been taken hostage, and it’s too dangerous for the army to rescue him.
Poppy is determined to bring him home herself. But her journey will lead her to a heartbreaking dilemma. What price will she pay to save the man she loves?
Poppy Day is available here.
What Have I Done?
Kathryn Brooker is the very picture of a fulfilled wife and mother. Anyone who peered through the downstairs sash window at the four figures sat easily around their scrubbed-pine kitchen table would see a happy family without a care in the world. They would envy Kathryn her perfect life.
But they would be wrong. Kathryn is trapped in a nightmare. And she is about to do something to change it. Something only a truly desperate woman would do...
What Have I Done? is available here.
Clover’s Child
When eighteen-year-old Dot meets Sol, she feels that love has arrived at last. But this is 1961. East End girls don’t date West Indian boys, let alone fall in love with them and leave the country. They stay at home and live the life their parents planned for them. Even if it leaves
them lonelier than they ever thought possible. Even if it rips their heart in two...
Clover’s Child is available here.
A Little Love
Pru Plum is the celebrated owner of famous Mayfair bakery, Plum’s Patisserie. She wears Chanel and her hair is expensively cut. Few would believe that this elegant woman turned sixty-six last year.
But Pru is not the confident, successful businesswoman she appears. She has done shameful things to get to where she is today. And she will do anything to protect the secrets of her past - especially when, for the first time in her life, she has finally fallen in love…
A Little Love is available here.
Will You Remember Me?
Poppy Day is an ordinary woman. She’s 32 years old, an ex-hairdresser, now a stay-at-home mum for her two gorgeous children while her husband Mart tours with the army. Nowadays, her simplest pleasure is having her family together in a clean and happy home.
But Poppy is too busy caring for others to notice the fatigue in her body and the menacing lump growing on her breast. If there’s anyone strong and deserving enough to defeat cancer it’s Poppy. After all, she’s fought harder battles than this. But does life really work like that?
Will You Remember Me? is available here.
Christmas for One
As a child, Meg always dreamed of the perfect Christmas...
This year, she can make it come true for her own little boy. There will be turkey and all the trimmings, a glittering tree, and a stocking hung up by a roaring fire. Who cares if there’s no devoted husband in the picture? She and Lucas will be just fine on their own.
But then a chance meeting with a stranger in New York unravels everything she’s planned. Will Meg finally get everything she wished for? Or will she be alone this Christmas after all?
Another Love Page 30