Poppy's War Read Online Free

‘Better keep out of Mrs Toon’s way, she’s on the warpath.’ She slammed the baize door that kept the noise from below from disturbing the genteel calm of the family rooms.
    ‘Oh, it’s you!’ Kneading bread dough as if she were pummelling her worst enemy, Mrs Toon glared at Poppy. ‘I can’t be doing with you under my feet today, there’s too much to do.’
    Poppy stood uncertainly at the foot of the stairs, creating patterns on the floor with the toe of her brown sandal. Mrs Toon’s cheeks were bright red, the colour of the geraniums that Gran liked to grow in an old sink in the back yard. Strands of grey hair escaped from her white cap, bouncing about like watch springs as she wielded a floury rolling pin at her. ‘I suppose you’re hungry. Kids always are in my experience. There’s some porridge in the pan on the Aga. Help yourself.’
    Poppy approached the monster cautiously and was about to reach up to grab the ladle when Mrs Toon happened to glance over her shoulder. ‘Not like that!’ she screeched. ‘For heaven’s sake, girl, you’ll scald yourself.’ She bustled over and, snatching the ladle, she filled a china bowl with porridge and thrust it into Poppy’s hands. ‘There’s sugar in the bowl on the table. Don’t take too much! And there’s fresh milk on the marble shelf in the larder. Don’t spill it.’
    Poppy tucked herself away in the corner of the kitchen and ate her porridge, watching in awe as Mrs Toon barked orders at two women who appeared from the scullery at intervals, carrying huge bowls of peeled vegetables. With a face that Mum would have described as a wet weekend, Olive looked distinctly put out as she clattered down the stairs carrying a tray full of dirty crockery.
    ‘I hate bloody shooting parties,’ she said bitterly.
    ‘Language, Olive,’ Mrs Toon muttered as Olive disappeared into the scullery.
    There was a loud clatter and she flounced back into the kitchen wiping her hands on the tea towel. She stopped and her eyes narrowed as she spotted Poppy, who was trying her best to appear inconspicuous. ‘You’d best keep out of my way today. I don’t want madam making me look after you as well as doing all my other work.’ She snatched an apple from a bowl on a side table and bit into it. ‘By the way, Mrs Toon, best keep some breakfast hot for Mr Guy. He went out for his morning ride and hasn’t come back yet.’
    This piece of information did not seem to go down too well with Mrs Toon, and Poppy finished her food quickly. Taking her empty bowl into the scullery she made her escape through an outside door and found herself in a cobbled yard surrounded by outbuildings. The familiar smell of coarse soap and soda billowed out in clouds of steam from the washhouse, bringing a lump to her throat and a wave of homesickness as she listened to the washerwomen laughing and talking while they worked. She hesitated in the doorway, longing to go inside and find a motherly soul who would give her a cuddle and tell her that everything would be all right, but it seemed as if she was suddenly invisible. They were all too busy to notice her.
    She was just wondering what to do when she spotted a gateway in the stone wall, and on closer examination she discovered that it led into the stable yard. The smell of horse dung, damp straw and leather was unfamiliar but not as unpleasant as she might have imagined. A horse stuck its great head out of its stall whinnying at her and stamping its hooves and she backed away. Those teeth looked as if they could bite a girl’s head off with one great snap of the mighty jaws. She had been chased once by a carthorse that had seemed intent on trampling her underfoot, and she had been scared of the brutes ever since. She glanced round as a stable lad shouted something unintelligible at her and she panicked, thinking she must have done something wrong. She ran through the yard, past the carriage house and into the safety of a large clump of