Poppy's Dilemma Read online

  ‘I don’t know how to thank you, Poppy …’

  ‘You’re my friend, Minnie. You’d do the same for me. Anyway, I might want a favour myself some day. And that frock looks like it was made for you.’

  ‘And yours. It matches your eyes beautiful.’

  They walked on, carrying their old clothes in bags the shop girl had supplied.

  ‘Did you notice that girl’s hair, Minnie?’ Poppy asked.

  ‘Course.’

  ‘I’d like mine done like that, pinned up all neat and tidy. I’ll try and do it later, when we’ve found somewhere to sleep tonight.’

  ‘Where are we gunna sleep, Poppy?’

  ‘An inn, I reckon, eh? Then we can look for cheaper lodgings that’ll do us till we find work.’

  Poppy and Minnie found a room at the Old Bush Inn in the middle of Dudley town, about a hundred yards from the old town hall. The landlord was reticent about letting them have it at first. He looked at them suspiciously, for he could not quite place them in the social scale, and asked them why girls so young wished to take such a room when they were clearly unchaperoned. But, when he saw Poppy’s money and took a deposit, he was left in no doubt of her ability and willingness to pay. He warned them that they must not have men in their room; he would not tolerate that sort of thing going on. His was a respectable coaching house and he had to maintain its reputation, with respectable visitors from London and other faraway places coming and going all the time.

  Poppy nudged Minnie and grinned at the absolute novelty of being shown to their room by a serving maid, however untidy. Her hair was awry under her mob cap, and her fingernails still showed signs of a visit to the coal cellar. At the top of the stairs, she unlocked a door and allowed the young guests to enter.

  ‘This is yer room. I hope you’ll be comfitubble.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Poppy said with an indulgent smile, enjoying the novelty of feeling sublimely superior and ladylike in her new blue outfit and stockings and the fashionable boots Robert Crawford had bought her.

  ‘I’ll be back in a bit to light yer a fire. It goes chilly this side o’ th’ouse.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Poppy said again, unfastening the ribbons of her new bonnet.

  After the maid had lit the promised fire, the girls settled in, giggling and pampering themselves, all too aware that for the time being they were free from the drudgery of work. Poppy placed a chair in front of the window and peered onto the heads and hats of passers-by in the street below, while Minnie dressed her hair for her, in an effort to copy the shop girl’s style. A coach halted outside and there were calls from the driver and the ostler as passengers disembarked and its cargo of luggage was unloaded. A horse whinnied, a cart clattered past. There was so much going on down there, noise and an endless movement of people and traffic.

  ‘Did you notice the maid?’ Poppy said. ‘She must’ve thought us proper ladies in our new clothes.’

  Minnie chuckled delightedly. ‘I know. I thought that. It’s nice to be looked on as somebody important, in’t it?’

  ‘For once.’

  ‘What shall we do tonight, Poppy?’

  Poppy shrugged. ‘We could go for a walk in the town and show off our new clothes.’

  ‘Yes,’ Minnie replied with enthusiasm. ‘Who knows? We might even meet a couple of dandies.’

  ‘You’ve got men on the brain, Minnie. Am I done yet?’

  ‘Just about.’ Minnie patted Poppy’s hair a last time. ‘Turn your head. Let’s have a look … Yikes! Now you really do look a somebody …’

  ‘Let me see.’ Poppy stood up and walked across the room to the wardrobe that had a long mirror on one door. She looked at herself, turning her head this way and that to view the creation from all angles. The set of her head looked different with her hair up. There was an elegance about her that she did not realise she possessed, and it delighted her. ‘I’ll have to make sure my neck’s clean in future, Minnie,’ she giggled.

  Minnie laughed too. ‘Not just your neck. Ladies have a bath regular, I bet. I never bin in a bath in me life.’

  Poppy pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to redden them. ‘Oh, I don’t see as you need to go in a bath if you have a good wash down regular.’

  ‘Well, we can have a good wash down here all right, with no navvies to come a-spying … So you like your hair then?’

  ‘I love it,’ Poppy replied. She turned away from the mirror. ‘I’ll do yours now, shall I, Minnie?’

  ‘I doubt if it’ll look as good as yours.’

  ‘Are you saying I won’t be as good as you at this hair-doing lark?’

  Minnie chuckled happily. ‘I mean my hair, not your fiddling with it …’ She sighed contentedly. ‘You know, I’d love a cup of tea, Poppy. Shall we ask that scruffy little wench to bring us a pot? I’ll pay …’

  Dudley Town Hall was a looming two-storey affair built of brick and stone. The civic business of the Town Commissioners was conducted in the rooms on the upper floor, where tall, rectangular, Tudor-style windows afforded views towards St Thomas’s church at the top end of the town, and the old St Edmund’s, dwarfed by the castle, at the bottom. It was crowned by a small tower, from which tolled the original bell, taken from the Old Priory, when the marking of civic occasions and calamities was required. The lower part of the building was open to the elements, being nothing more than a series of arches that supported the upper floor. It provided accommodation for traders who set up stalls there on market days and shelter from the rain for everybody else.

  It was providing shelter that Saturday evening for a miscellany of folk, including Poppy and Minnie, who had been taking their stroll when the rain came down, threatening to spoil their new clothes and bonnets.

  Minnie tapped her foot impatiently on the stone flags beneath her feet, gazing with longing at The Seven Stars Inn across the road in High Street. ‘That’s where Tom and that Luke have a drink.’ She nodded her head in its direction. ‘We ought to go over when it’s stopped raining and see if they’m in there.’

  ‘I doubt if they’d recognise us now,’ Poppy answered indifferently. ‘Anyway, I don’t want to see Luke. He’s got black teeth. Nor should you want to see Tom.’

  ‘I like Tom,’ Minnie asserted. ‘I’d like him to see me in me new outfit.’

  ‘Anyway, I doubt if you’d find respectable girls going into a public house without a man to go in with.’

  The rain started to ease and many of the people sheltering left and made a dash for it. Minnie walked over to the high wrought-iron railing set in one of the arches and, with her face pressed between two bars, peered through optimistically. A black clarence was being driven past just then, and Minnie caught sight of a middle-aged man looking at her from within. At once he hailed the driver to stop and opened the door. He opened the door, leaned out and beckoned. Minnie glanced at Poppy to see if she had noticed the exchange, but she evidently had not. The man beckoned again and Minnie went towards him, alerting Poppy to this unexpected arrival.

  ‘What d’you want?’ Minnie asked, smiling with curiosity.

  ‘What do you do?’ came the reply.

  ‘What do I do?’ Minnie queried. ‘I think you mean how do you do.’

  The man grinned. ‘I know what I mean, young miss. I ain’t seen you around here before. What’s your name?’

  ‘Minnie. What’s yours?’

  ‘Minnie!’ he repeated, ignoring her question. ‘A pretty name. But then, you’re a very pretty girl. Are you going to come with me? Out of the rain?’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Well, we don’t have to go anywhere special. I have a couple of bottles of champagne right here. You look the sort of girl who might appreciate champagne.’

  ‘What’s he on about?’ Poppy asked, on hearing the exchange.

  ‘He’s got summat he calls champagne,’ Minnie whispered out of the side of her mouth. ‘It’s a drink o’ some sort, in’t it?’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘He wants me to g
o with him.’ Minnie turned to the man in the clarence. ‘I got me friend wi’ me. Can she come as well?’

  ‘The more the merrier. What’s she like? Is she as pretty as you?’

  ‘Here she is … Show yourself, Poppy. The gentleman wants to see you.’

  Poppy stepped forward and stood by Minnie.

  ‘God’s truth, she’s a dazzler. I’ll give you a shilling each if you’ll come with me.’

  Polly tugged at Minnie’s sleeve with the intention of pulling her away. ‘He thinks we’re street wenches, Min,’ she warned in a hoarse whisper. ‘Come away from him.’

  ‘He’s a toff, Poppy,’ Minnie hissed impatiently. ‘Come on, we can get blathered and it won’t cost we a penny.’

  ‘I don’t want to get blathered.’

  ‘Oh, Poppy … You never want to do anything. You’m never no fun. Come on. You’m coming with me for once.’ Minnie took Poppy’s arm and coaxed her along to the clarence.

  The man smiled and pushed the door wide open for them to enter, then took their hands in turn as he helped them up the iron steps of the carriage.

  ‘So you are Minnie. So, who is your friend?’

  ‘Poppy,’ Minnie answered, settling herself on the plush leather seat, facing the man.

  ‘Minnie and Poppy. Well … How come I’ve never seen either of you two little beauties before?’

  ‘Because we don’t come up the town regular,’ Poppy replied. ‘We’re not street wenches.’

  ‘I’m very relieved to hear it. So … let’s take a little ride out into the countryside and open that bottle of whisky.’ He tapped the roof of the carriage with his cane and they lurched forwards.

  ‘I thought you said champagne.’

  ‘Did I say that? Slip of the tongue.’

  ‘Where are you taking us?’ Poppy enquired. ‘I don’t think I want to go to the countryside.’

  ‘Oh, it’s not far. Don’t worry, Poppy, a little trip to the Oakham Fields will only take us ten minutes at a trot.’

  They did a circuit of the town hall and turned into a narrow road called Hall Street. There was just enough width to drive a carriage through, but folk walking the street had to press themselves against the windows of the shops and public houses that lined both sides to prevent the wheels splashing them in the gutter. Poppy was inclined to ask that they drop her off, but she could not forsake Minnie alone with this stranger, however respectable he seemed. Minnie had to be protected, if only from herself. They drove on, leaving the huddle of Hall Street behind, and pressed on to where the road became wider at Waddams Pool. It was uphill here and the driver allowed the horse to haul the clarence at its own lumbering pace. The rows of shops and little houses petered out and Poppy could see open fields and a flat stretch of road, where the horse then broke into a trot.

  They passed a magnificent house set in its own grounds … then another … and another … For a few moments Poppy was oblivious to the banter already going on between Minnie and this well-dressed man, lost in her own dream world. She was a conscientious maid, dressed in a clean, crisp uniform, employed in one of these fine houses. Of course, she could not have known that one of these fine houses, the one she especially liked the look of, was the home of Robert Crawford.

  They stopped briefly at a toll gate, then pressed on. The horse slowed to a rolling walk once more as it pulled them up Oakham Road’s steady incline. Here it was a grotto overhung with trees, and the drops of rain dripping off the leaves was like gravel falling on the carriage’s roof. Fields, bare and harvested, lay on both sides, with only the occasional fine house now. The driver seemed to know where he was going, and climbed down from his box to open a gate to a field that lay behind a tall hedge, well hidden from the road. Poppy looked at the middle-aged man uncertainly and, as the driver put on the brake, it struck her that this opening of the gate and entering the field was done with the practised slickness that regularity affords. To her surprise, the driver took off his cloak, shook the water off it and entered the carriage.

  ‘So, who have we here, Alfred?’

  ‘Minnie and Poppy. Lovely little popsies too, don’t you think? Minnie and I seem to have a rapport already, James. If you have no objection I’ll stick with her. We can always swap later. Come and sit by me, Minnie …’

  James regarded Poppy with a lascivious interest, looking her up and down. ‘Oh, I think this one’ll do me fine.’ He leered at her. ‘Come here, my flower, and sit close to me. Let me get the feel of you.’

  Poppy obstinately remained where she was while Minnie compliantly crossed to the opposite seat and shuffled close to Alfred with an expectant smile.

  ‘How old are you, little popsy?’ James enquired.

  ‘Sixteen. How old are you?’ There was scorn in her voice.

  He laughed, but there was no mirth in it. ‘It’s of no consequence, little popsy. I’m the one paying the money, so I’ll ask the questions.’

  ‘You’re old enough to be my dad.’

  ‘He might be your dad,’ Alfred quipped. ‘Here, James …’ He handed him the bottle of whisky. ‘I do believe yours needs a slug or two of this to loosen her up.’

  James took the bottle, uncorked it and offered it to Poppy. She turned her face away sullenly.

  ‘Have some whisky, little popsy … No? I bet your friend would like some.’

  He handed the bottle to Minnie who took a slug as if she had been drinking the stuff regularly for years, then offered it to Poppy once more.

  ‘Go on, Poppy,’ she urged, wiping her lips. ‘Have a drop. A drop won’t hurt you.’

  Poppy shook her head with defiance and Minnie thought she detected a shudder of fear in her friend.

  ‘She don’t drink,’ she said in her defence.

  ‘Does she screw?’

  ‘No, I do not,’ Poppy shrieked and reached for the door handle, burning with indignation.

  James caught her arm and yanked her back, pulling her against him. ‘Then I think it’s time you did, little popsy.’ He reached down and took a handful of skirt and petticoat, which he pulled up, exposing her legs. ‘Well, you’ve got a fine pair of legs, little popsy. I can’t wait to get between ’em.’

  He raised his knee and thrust it between hers, at the same time pinning her down on the seat while she struggled to free herself. He fingered the buttons of his fly.

  ‘You’re hurting me!’ she screamed. ‘Don’t you dare touch me.’

  ‘Easy, easy,’ James said in a calm, soothing voice, a grin on his thin face. ‘It’s so much better if you don’t struggle. For both of us. You’ll get your money afterwards. I’m not going to hurt you. Besides, if I like you, I shall see you again. That’s the way it should be. Not this senseless resistance. You could do well out of me if you play the game …’

  Poppy had not lived on a navvy encampment most of her life without picking up a few tips in self-defence. She clenched her tiny fist and whacked James on the temple. As he reeled from the unexpected clout, she brought her knee up hard and rammed it, with all the velocity she could muster, into his testicles. He winced with pain, clutching his crotch, unable to catch his breath to utter any curse. Poppy took the opportunity to grab hold of the door handle and shove the door open. Disentangling herself completely, while the others watched stupefied, she leapt down from the carriage, stepped into a pool of mud and ran towards the gate in the pouring rain.

  Chapter 17

  As she fled down Oakham Road, Poppy kept looking anxiously behind her to see whether James was following, with or without his friend to aid him or the carriage to expedite him. It was dark now and she looked continually for places to hide if need be. She searched for lights, for signs of habitation, but there were only dark fields and ragged hedges, spooky with the sound of cows lowing in the distance at the miserable weather. She had no idea how far they had travelled from the town. The journey had seemed like ages. Nor had she any notion of the time, but it could surely not be late.

  She felt guilty at leaving Minnie
at the mercy of the two men. But Minnie had shown no sign of fear, only eager anticipation at what must inevitably come to pass. Why was there such a difference between them when it came to men and what you could be getting up to with them? It was as if Minnie could not help herself. Poppy wondered whether there was something lacking in herself, since she patently did not feel the same. She would happily give herself for love, but she would never sell herself. She would have willingly, eagerly, lain with Robert Crawford if he’d asked her to. Tonight he would have been proud of her, applauded the way she halted that rat James with a deft knee into his privates.

  Thoughts of Robert stirred up again the familiar ache of longing. So acutely did she yearn for him, especially now when she needed him. Without him she was a flower without sunshine, a wilderness without rain. Damned rain … She pulled up the collar of her mantle and adjusted her bonnet. Thank goodness for the mantle. At least it would protect her lovely blue dress. She hurried on in the darkness, picking her way through puddles and mud, holding her skirt up a little to protect it from the splashes her scurrying feet kicked up. There was no footpath on either side of this lane, only the rough, uneven track lined with shepherd’s purse, thistles, nettles and blackberry brambles all weeping and soggy and snagging on her skirt if she passed too close. At a bend in the lane, a dead tree loomed, its bare gnarled branches dripping black against the sky, poised unstirring, like some gothic spectre determined to leap out and grab her. Poppy shuddered and quickened her pace, unaware that this was a hangman’s tree, used in times past as a gallows to hang felons. Next to it stood a cottage, dilapidated but still inhabited, according to the waft of smoke that curled sparsely from the leaning chimney. It did not look welcoming.

  As she rounded the bend, the lane descended and she could just discern its lie, which was straight for as far distant as she could determine through the dim tunnel of trees. The lights from a house flickered with a feeble warmth some distance away. If she heard the rumble of the carriage now she could always run, hammer on the door and ask for protection until they had gone past. Somebody would surely shelter her.