The Sweeping Saga Collection: Poppy’s Dilemma, The Dressmaker’s Daughter, The Factory Girl. Nancy Carson

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       Chapter 8

      ‘I’d like us to concentrate on double vowel sounds tonight, Poppy,’ Robert Crawford said.

      They were sitting in his office, on the first floor of an old house in Abberley Street, off Vicar Street, which the contractors had acquired because it was near the workings. It suited Robert’s purpose admirably. Poppy could learn undisturbed, and Robert would not be compromised by being seen in public with a low-class navvy girl. There was seldom anybody who used the offices after about six o’clock of an evening. And he was privy to a key.

      The evening rays of an early July sun streamed through the deep sash window, which was open an inch or two at the top, and fell obliquely onto his huge desk, that was covered in drawings and maps. Poppy sat next to Robert at the desk. They were so close that he was aware of Poppy’s soft warmth as his thigh gently nudged hers as if by accident in the desk’s kneehole.

      Robert was hopelessly torn. For two weeks he had contrived to meet Poppy there to give her lessons in reading and writing and, in that respect, both were experiencing singular success. Poppy could already recognise scores of simple words, and write them down in an awkward scrawl. But he had not yet mustered the audacity to suggest anything more than being merely her teacher. He was certain that he had fallen in love with her. If it was not love, it was some other destructive yet utterly overwhelming attraction that he seemed powerless to resist. Whatever it was, he was painfully aware that it could do neither him, nor anybody else, one iota of good. Still, he could not help wanting to touch her, to feel her girlish softness and gentleness. He ached to run his fingers through that tangle of fair curls and feel her delicious-looking lips on his. He was forever trying to glean information as to her likely relationship with that savage they called Jericho, and whether any relationship was flourishing. Always, however, she dismissed it as something trivial. Well, he hoped with all his heart and soul that it was trivial and would remain so.

      ‘If we have two “o”s together,’ he began to explain, ‘they make the sound you get in the word look.’ He wrote the string of letters down.

      ‘Look,’ she repeated, forming the word deliberately, and with a delectable pursing of her lips, which gave Robert the renewed and urgent desire to kiss her.

      ‘And this word – book.’ He wrote that down quickly as well.

      ‘Book.’

      ‘Tooth …’

      ‘Tooth,’ she repeated seriously, oblivious to the effect she was having on him.

      Next, he wrote down the word hook. ‘So what do you think this word says?’

      She studied the word for no more than a second. ‘’Ook.’

      He smiled, acknowledging her ability to work it out quickly. ‘Hook,’ he corrected. ‘You must sound the “h” …’

      ‘Hook,’ she said exaggeratedly.

      ‘That’s better. So do you understand the sound a double o makes?’

      ‘Yes,’ she said, with a certainty that was unassailable. ‘It’s easy.’

      ‘Good … Ah! You see there’s another … the word good … You’re doing well, Poppy. Extremely well. Now, let’s look at the vowels o and u together … as in house …’

      ‘’Ouse.’

      ‘Pronounce the h, Poppy.’

      ‘Sorry, Robert. House.’

      ‘Now … mouse.’

      ‘Mouse,’ she said, looking very serious.

      ‘Mouth …’ He looked at her lips again. He was fascinated by the way they moved so deliciously as she pronounced the words.

      ‘Your mouth, Poppy …’

      She looked up at him and saw the flame of ardour in his eyes. ‘What about my mouth?’

      ‘You have such a lovely mouth. I’m sorry, but I want to kiss you. Would you be terribly offended?’

      ‘No, why should I be?’ she answered with neither hesitation nor inhibition, and felt her heart instantly beating faster at the unexpected enticement.

      She leaned towards him and pursed her lips and he could have kicked himself for not having asked before. Her lips were cool and slightly moist, like petals unfurling from the bud. He was all at once aware of her chastity and her sexuality, existing together symbiotically.

      ‘That was nice,’ she said with wide-eyed sincerity. ‘Hey, you don’t half kiss nice.’

      ‘Then I’ll kiss you again … But why not close your eyes this time?’

      ‘I will, if you’ll close yours as well. You didn’t then, so it’s no good telling me to, if you don’t.’

      ‘I was merely looking to see if you had closed your eyes.’

      ‘I’ll close ’em then.’

      Their lips met again. Poppy peeped to see whether he had closed his eyes and found him peeping at her once more.

      ‘See?’ she complained, breaking off with a girlish giggle. ‘You’re watching me.’

      He laughed self-consciously. ‘I was just checking.’

      ‘No checking, Robert. If you want me to kiss you and keep my eyes closed, you have to trust me. Don’t keep peeping.’

      ‘I won’t peep again. On my honour.’

      ‘Right …’

      They kissed once more, and neither dared to open their eyes any more to see if the other’s were shut. The kiss lingered, each savouring the sensation, and she felt his arm come around her and give her an attentive, affectionate hug, which she enjoyed a great deal.

      ‘I like it when you do that,’ she said.

      ‘Then СКАЧАТЬ