then how about “Climb, Climb Up Sunshine Mountain”? My boys loved that one.’
‘Ooh yes. How about “Lay a Little Egg for Me”?’ ventured Daisy, all memory of her earlier outburst seemingly forgotten.
‘I could knit them some little teddies,’ offered Doris.
‘And I’ll help you,’ added Ivy.
‘That’s the spirit, Dor,’ said Sal, clapping her hands. ‘We’ll put a smile on those children’s faces and give them a show to remember.’
‘Poppy, you’ll join in, won’t you?’ asked Daisy.
‘Course I will,’ she murmured. But Poppy wasn’t really giving them her full attention. She was too busy staring at Vera, who in the commotion had been quite forgotten by the
other ladies. She had her back to the floor and was busy counting bundles, but as Poppy looked closer at her friend’s face, she could have sworn that her eyes were misted over.
Six
The day dawned bright and gin clear. A perfect, sunny spring morning full of promise. The cherry trees were bursting into life, and Poppy noted with a smile that even the
buddleia bushes sprouting through the wreckage of the bombsites were in full flower, their vivid purple blossom poking a defiant tongue at Hitler’s best efforts.
Gradually, and thanks to the warmth and camaraderie of the Singer Girls, Poppy was starting to feel more at home in the East End. Being away from Framshalton Hall and a life consigned to the
isolation of the scullery was actually doing her good. That awful night had taken her apart piece by piece, but slowly her fragile self-esteem was being restored. The memories of what happened, and
the scandal that followed, were starting to fade.
She had taken extra care with her appearance as she dressed that morning, pinning a lovely sparkly brooch to her coat and even washing with her bar of rose-scented soap, which Cook had given her
as a leaving present. Soap had just been rationed to three ounces per month and that scented bar was like gold dust. But Poppy figured if the children enduring so much in the hospital wards could
manage without, then the least she could do was make an extra effort for them.
Waiting for her outside Bethnal Green Tube Station were Daisy, Sal, Doris, Ivy, Betty and Kathy The group was chatting excitedly in a rabble of noise.
When Poppy spotted them, she painted a bright smile on her face and quickened her pace.
‘Hello, girls.’ She smiled shyly. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
Within seconds she found herself wrapped in a tangle of kisses and hugs.
‘Hello, dearie,’ grinned Ivy. ‘Ooh, you’re a tonic on the eyes.’
‘You look pretty as a picture today,’ agreed Daisy, standing at arm’s length to appraise her. ‘What have you done different to yourself?’
‘Oh, nothing really,’ Poppy replied, blushing furiously and secretly thinking that she could never match up to Daisy, who today looked ravishing, with her hair in victory rolls and
wearing an emerald dress that clung to her shape. She was the spit of Vivien Leigh.
‘That dress matches your eyes perfectly, Daisy,’ Poppy breathed.
‘What, this old thing?’ Daisy exclaimed, twirling round. ‘Made it out of some old curtain material.’
‘Well, it will certainly cheer up all the children,’ Poppy ventured.
‘That’s the spirit,’ grinned Sal. ‘Now, let’s go entertain the troops, as they say.’
‘Have you always sung?’ Poppy asked as they walked. ‘You have the most terrific voices.’
‘Oh, we’ve always loved a good sing-song,’ Sal replied. ‘When war broke out, we just sang louder. It’s like whistling in the dark – keeps a good face on things. We’re not professional.’
‘Yet,’ added Daisy brightly. ‘But who knows what tomorrow might bring?’
‘That’s right,’ cackled Doris. ‘If
Workers’ Playtime
ever visit Trout’s, they’ll be signing us all up to tour with ‘em.’
‘Here, isn’t that your old man over there?’ Kathy asked, nudging Daisy.
The group stopped and suddenly
‘Ooh yes. How about “Lay a Little Egg for Me”?’ ventured Daisy, all memory of her earlier outburst seemingly forgotten.
‘I could knit them some little teddies,’ offered Doris.
‘And I’ll help you,’ added Ivy.
‘That’s the spirit, Dor,’ said Sal, clapping her hands. ‘We’ll put a smile on those children’s faces and give them a show to remember.’
‘Poppy, you’ll join in, won’t you?’ asked Daisy.
‘Course I will,’ she murmured. But Poppy wasn’t really giving them her full attention. She was too busy staring at Vera, who in the commotion had been quite forgotten by the
other ladies. She had her back to the floor and was busy counting bundles, but as Poppy looked closer at her friend’s face, she could have sworn that her eyes were misted over.
Six
The day dawned bright and gin clear. A perfect, sunny spring morning full of promise. The cherry trees were bursting into life, and Poppy noted with a smile that even the
buddleia bushes sprouting through the wreckage of the bombsites were in full flower, their vivid purple blossom poking a defiant tongue at Hitler’s best efforts.
Gradually, and thanks to the warmth and camaraderie of the Singer Girls, Poppy was starting to feel more at home in the East End. Being away from Framshalton Hall and a life consigned to the
isolation of the scullery was actually doing her good. That awful night had taken her apart piece by piece, but slowly her fragile self-esteem was being restored. The memories of what happened, and
the scandal that followed, were starting to fade.
She had taken extra care with her appearance as she dressed that morning, pinning a lovely sparkly brooch to her coat and even washing with her bar of rose-scented soap, which Cook had given her
as a leaving present. Soap had just been rationed to three ounces per month and that scented bar was like gold dust. But Poppy figured if the children enduring so much in the hospital wards could
manage without, then the least she could do was make an extra effort for them.
Waiting for her outside Bethnal Green Tube Station were Daisy, Sal, Doris, Ivy, Betty and Kathy The group was chatting excitedly in a rabble of noise.
When Poppy spotted them, she painted a bright smile on her face and quickened her pace.
‘Hello, girls.’ She smiled shyly. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
Within seconds she found herself wrapped in a tangle of kisses and hugs.
‘Hello, dearie,’ grinned Ivy. ‘Ooh, you’re a tonic on the eyes.’
‘You look pretty as a picture today,’ agreed Daisy, standing at arm’s length to appraise her. ‘What have you done different to yourself?’
‘Oh, nothing really,’ Poppy replied, blushing furiously and secretly thinking that she could never match up to Daisy, who today looked ravishing, with her hair in victory rolls and
wearing an emerald dress that clung to her shape. She was the spit of Vivien Leigh.
‘That dress matches your eyes perfectly, Daisy,’ Poppy breathed.
‘What, this old thing?’ Daisy exclaimed, twirling round. ‘Made it out of some old curtain material.’
‘Well, it will certainly cheer up all the children,’ Poppy ventured.
‘That’s the spirit,’ grinned Sal. ‘Now, let’s go entertain the troops, as they say.’
‘Have you always sung?’ Poppy asked as they walked. ‘You have the most terrific voices.’
‘Oh, we’ve always loved a good sing-song,’ Sal replied. ‘When war broke out, we just sang louder. It’s like whistling in the dark – keeps a good face on things. We’re not professional.’
‘Yet,’ added Daisy brightly. ‘But who knows what tomorrow might bring?’
‘That’s right,’ cackled Doris. ‘If
Workers’ Playtime
ever visit Trout’s, they’ll be signing us all up to tour with ‘em.’
‘Here, isn’t that your old man over there?’ Kathy asked, nudging Daisy.
The group stopped and suddenly
Similar Books
