Secrets of the Singer Girls (33 page)

Sal’s words were rapid as she urged Poppy to spill her secrets. ‘Please, Poppy, just tell me,’ she begged. ‘No woman is a blank page.’

Poppy leaned back heavily against the white tiled wall and closed her eyes. ‘All right,’ she groaned eventually. ‘I will tell you. Tonight’s the night I’m supposed
to be meeting Freddie, but it’s impossible, you see, because . . .’

Sal scarcely dared breathe for fear of interrupting her. Only the dripping of a leaky tap echoed throughout the toilets. Instinct told her she wasn’t going to like what her young friend
was about to tell her, but there was no way out of here for either of them now.

‘Well, because . . . my mother didn’t really send me here to see another way of life,’ Poppy said, staring hard at the floor. ‘She sent me away because I brought shame on
her and Lord Framshalton’s whole family. I did something awful, Sal.’

Nervously, Poppy started to pick at a loose tag of skin by her chewed thumbnail, and a solitary tear slid down her cheek.

‘Whatever it is, darling, it can’t be that bad,’ soothed Sal.

‘Oh, but it is, Sal. Much worse than you can ever imagine,’ Poppy replied.

The silence stretched on forever, but Sal knew better than to break it. If she put the slightest pressure on her timid friend, she would bolt.

‘I was working late one night, washing up in the scullery,’ she whispered at last. ‘His Lordship had been entertaining after one of his shooting parties and there was no end of
dishes to be done. It sounded like they were having a gay old time. I could hear the laughter drifting down from the dining room even as far as the scullery. That’s why I didn’t hear
him behind me until he was nearly on top of me.’

Poppy’s chest heaved and Sal half wondered if she wasn’t about to be sick again. Instead, she carried on picking at the wretched bit of skin, her slight fingers trembling as she
burrowed compulsively into the flesh.

‘He pushed me back against the wall . . . He . . . he put one hand over my mouth. His breath smelt of brandy and cigars. I couldn’t breathe,’ she gasped, frantic now with
panic. ‘I couldn’t breathe.’

‘Who was he, Poppy?’ Sal urged. ‘What happened?’

‘His Lordship’s son and heir, Edward Framshalton. He was strong. Too strong. I didn’t struggle. He told me . . .’ She broke off and more tears flooded her cheeks.

‘Go on,’ Sal whispered.

‘He told me he’d seen me about the place, that I was lucky to have caught his eye. Then he ripped up my skirt.’ She closed her eyes. ‘He forced himself on me.’

By now Poppy was weeping unashamedly, trembling in terror as she held on to the wall for support.

In horror, Sal realized Poppy was reliving the moment. She was no longer with Sal in the toilets but back there in the gloom of the Norfolk scullery.

‘I closed my eyes and prayed for it to be over,’ she whispered. ‘All I could smell was the distemper on the walls, such a queer smell, fetid and rank. I can smell it now, you
know. It’s my abiding memory.’

Sal fought the urge to scream as she pictured Poppy’s sweet apple cheeks forced up against a damp scullery wall. In that split second she felt as if she might melt right into a puddle on
the floor. Little Poppy Percival was the sweetest, most lovable person she had ever come across. That something so evil and poisonous should happen to her was beyond all imagining.

‘When . . . when he was finished, he told me I was a silly little girl for leading him on and he was only taking what was his by right. Except when he walked out, he bumped into the hall
boy.’

‘But surely he heard. Didn’t he do anything?’ cried Sal in frustration.

‘But that’s just it, Sal,’ wept Poppy. ‘Heard what? I never screamed. I didn’t make so much as a murmur. I saw His Lordship through the crack in the door. He winked
and nudged the hall boy, told him we’d been having a bit of fun, but that it was to go no further. He even tucked a pound note into the hall boy’s pocket and told him he was sure he
could trust him to keep our affair secret. Man to man.

‘Course, servants being what they are, the news was all over the servants’ hall by noon the next day. I was dismissed by evening service and my mother notified. She told me
she’d never be able to forgive me for my scandalous conduct, or for jeopardizing her position as Her Ladyship’s maid, and I had left her no choice but to be sent away. My feet barely
touched the ground. She’s not written to me once in all this time.’

Sal shook her head and felt disgust and anger crawl over her.

‘He took advantage of you. He forced himself on you. You are sixteen, for pity’s sake. That was no affair, and as for your mother . . .’ Sal’s voice trailed off in
disgust.

Poppy looked up despairingly. ‘But don’t you get it, Sal? It is my fault. I led him on. He told me so himself.’

‘Of course he would, the rotten swine!’ yelled Sal, feeling a steady rage build in her chest. ‘He’d have done anything to defend his position. He’s an
animal.’

‘And besides,’ Poppy added sadly, as though Sal hadn’t even spoken, ‘I did nothing to stop it, did I? I never even cried for help. Maybe, maybe that means I did ask for
it.’

‘Oh, Poppy,’ Sal moaned, closing her fist and punching it against the wall, ‘don’t you see? This isn’t your fault. That man should have been prosecuted for what he
did to you. Bloody gentry, forcing himself on you and telling you it was his right. He probably believed it himself, the over-privileged fool. You never made a sound because you were paralysed with
fright. That’s what fear does to you, Poppy – it knocks the stuffing out of you. You know the times I’ve looked back and wondered why I never fought back against my Reggie when he
gave me a hiding? Because I was rigid with fear. I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to.’

‘It doesn’t matter now,’ replied Poppy sadly. ‘I’m tainted. So you see why I can’t meet Freddie tonight? Once he sees how damaged I am, he’ll know me
for the fraud I really am.’

‘Well, that makes me a fraud too in that case,’ Sal replied, gazing deep into Poppy’s eyes. ‘Except I don’t really see it that way. I’m not damaged, you see.
I survived.’

‘What . . . what do you mean, you too?’ Poppy asked incredulously.

Sal nodded. ‘My Reggie repeatedly forced me against my will during our marriage. I survived, just as you have, and I reckon that makes us pretty tough.’

‘I suppose,’ Poppy nodded. ‘I never really saw it that way before.’

By the time Sal got the rest of the truth out of Poppy about the rendezvous outside Bethnal Green Tube, she was certain of one thing.

‘You are meeting Freddie tonight, Poppy,’ she stated firmly. ‘That posh animal may have stolen something precious from you, but don’t let him steal your future.’
Digging out a hanky, she handed it to Poppy. ‘Dry your eyes, sweet girl. I know you’re hurting right now, but trust me on this. What men inflict on you is never your fault. The devil
has many guises. This Freddie could be one of the good ones. I promise I’ll be right there with you to make sure of it.’

‘You’ll come too?’ asked Poppy, a glimmer of hope shining in her eyes for the first time.

‘I’ll walk with you, then wait and watch at a safe distance. If you feel panicked, just give me a signal – touch your ear or something – and I’ll be right there by
your side.’

‘I’m not sure.’ Poppy sighed.

‘I care deeply about you, we all do, and we just want to see you happy,’ said Sal softly. She hesitated before placing a gentle arm around Poppy’s trembling shoulders.

‘Thank you, Sal,’ Poppy replied in a tiny voice. ‘You know, I always used to feel like I was on the outside looking in when I was around you all, but I don’t think I
shall feel like that anymore.’

Sal smiled and brushed away her tears. ‘Good. Now come on, best get going. Vera’s probably clocked on by now and you can guarantee she’ll notice we’re gone. And your
secret’s safe with me. Us survivors got to stick together.’

Poppy had thought the day would never end, but at last the final shift bell sounded. She jumped from her seat, her nerves jangling nearly as loudly as the bell.

Sal appeared by her side. ‘Ready?’ she smiled reassuringly.

‘No,’ Poppy muttered.

‘Come here,’ Sal smiled, pulling out a comb from her handbag and gently brushing out Poppy’s fine brown hair. ‘Let’s see if we can’t make this Freddie chap
fall a bit more in love with you.’

The gesture was so comforting that Poppy felt her nerves subside.

‘But what about your boys?’ she asked, suddenly remembering that Sal usually tore out of the factory like her heels were on fire to get home to them.

‘Don’t worry – I’ve thought of that,’ she soothed, and then, turning to where Vera was fastening her coat, she called out, ‘Vera, would you fetch the boys and
take them home with you? There’s an urgent errand I have to run, but I shan’t be long.’

‘Course, Sal, but mind you’re not. There’s talk of a raid tonight.’

‘Indeed there is,’ piped up Archie, who was listening in.

‘There’s bound to be reprisals over us bombing Berlin. I might head down the Tube now, secure a bunk. Vera, you sure you won’t come?’

‘You know how I feel about being underground, Archie,’ she replied. ‘Me and Daisy will take our chances under the stairs.’

Poppy could see she was in a chippy mood. She knew that Frank had been released from prison that very morning. The tension of his release hung over her head like a rain cloud, but for once
Archie was in no mood to humour her.

‘You’re as stubborn as a mule at times, Vera,’ he muttered.

‘Oh, is that right, Mr Gladstone?’ she said in a low warning voice.

Poppy winced. Whenever she used his full name, it usually meant he was about to get a royal ticking-off.

‘Well, if I’m a mule, that must make you an ass,’ she snapped back.

‘Don’t be so trite, woman,’ Archie answered crossly. ‘I hate to think of you there if the sirens go off. Doubly so now your father’s out of prison. Please,’
he urged. ‘There’s plenty of room at the Tube, and if we leave now, there’ll be time to get you all a bunk.’

‘Listen to me,’ Vera blazed. ‘In here you may be my boss, but outside of this factory, I’ll decide what’s best for my family. I’ve never needed a meddling man
about the place to tell me what to do, and I certainly don’t need one now.’

He glared at her despairingly. ‘I’m just trying to look out for you, Vera – that’s all I’ve ever done – but if that’s the way you want it, then I give
up!’ he yelled, throwing his hands in the air in defeat.

‘Good,’ she snapped before turning her back on him.

‘Good,’ he mirrored angrily, picking up his coat and marching from the room. The door frame rattled as he slammed the door shut.

Sal sighed heavily. ‘Those two want their heads knocking together. When will Vera see what’s best for her?’

Glancing at the clock on the wall, she took Poppy’s arm. ‘But never mind that. It’s
your
love life we should be worrying about.’ She winked. ‘It’s
five past eight already. He’ll be waiting. You’ve got a date with destiny.’

The rain started to fall softly as they made their way down the street towards Bethnal Green Tube Station. It was a dank, dreary and wet night. Poppy could feel her freshly
brushed hair turning to a sticky mess in the rain. She sighed. What did it matter? Freddie was bound to take one look at her and realize he had made a dreadful mistake anyway.

As they neared the Tube, they became aware of hordes of people all brushing against them in the dark, and all heading in the direction of the station too. The pavement chimed with the sound of
wet shoes slapping against concrete. Poppy could feel hot breath billowing against her cheek.

‘Blimey, lot of folk out tonight. Must all have the same idea.’ Sal’s voice rang out next to her.

‘It is busy,’ Poppy agreed. ‘I probably won’t be able to find him in this. I think I’ll head home.’

She felt Sal’s hand clamp tightly round her wrist. ‘You’ll do no such thing, young lady. You’re meeting him, if only to say hello. He’s come a long way to see
you.’

Poppy sighed and kept walking, resigned to her fate now.

The rumbling of buses pulling to a stop nearby told Poppy they had arrived at the Tube. She felt her legs go weak and nearly buckle beneath her.

‘I’ll try and stay close so I can see you, check you’re all right. Now go, and good luck,’ urged Sal’s voice through the darkness.

At the Tube entrance, Poppy deftly stepped to one side to avoid being sucked into the slipstream of people heading down into the darkness. Gazing around the crowded entrance to the Tube, she
felt uneasy. Nineteen slippery steps led down to a small landing, fifteen by eleven feet, which was lit by a dim twenty-five-watt bulb, partially painted black to comply with the blackout rules. It
was a gloomy and forbidding stairway. Sal and the other girls at the factory were forever on about what a danger it was, what with the sheer weight of people who made their way down those steps
night after night to shelter.

What a ridiculous place to arrange a meet. Why hadn’t she written and arranged another place to rendezvous, or better yet, called it off altogether?

A fug of heat and that peculiar acrid smell of hundreds of damp unwashed bodies all pressed together drifted up the narrow stairwell to greet her. Sal had said there were bunks for 5,000 down
there, and she had heard tell the tunnel had no tracks as it wasn’t yet a working Tube station, just row upon row of triple bunks, chemical loos and even a library. By the loud swell of
cockney chatter that seemed to rise up from the very bowels of the earth, she didn’t doubt it. It barely seemed credible that such a tiny entrance could be the solitary gateway to a small
subterranean town.

Chewing her lip hard, she scanned each face as it loomed out of the dark, looking for any glimmer of recognition from the passer-by, but every face was too preoccupied, gazing down at the
rain-spattered ground so as not to lose their footing and fall. There was no central handrail, so people were forced to rely on sight alone to feel their way down into the inky darkness.