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

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СКАЧАТЬ thought you might enjoy a hot bath.’

      ‘Yes, I don’t mind.’ Poppy had never been in a bath and the prospect was daunting, but she decided it was best to accept it gratefully.

      ‘Is the room to your liking, my dear?’

      ‘Oh, it’s lovely, Aunt Phoebe,’ she replied with a broad smile. ‘And this bed is so soft. I think I shall be very comfortable.’

      ‘Good. While you were fetching your things I asked Esther to change the bed linen. To my mind, clean bed linen is essential once you’ve had a hot bath. Oh, and if it’s too warm, you can open the sash, you know.’

      ‘Oh, no, it’s just right.’ Poppy went to the window. The front garden below seemed more formally laid out than she had noticed when she had first arrived. The roses were colourful against the monochromatic lawn and the foliage of shrubs. The idea of tending to plants on a warm summer’s day had a sudden appeal; it conjured up images of contentment, of being civilised, of serenity. Then there was the view … ‘What’s that line of hills on the horizon?’

      ‘They are the Clent Hills, my dear. If you see it raining on the Clent Hills, you can be sure it will rain here within a few minutes … Well, Poppy … shall we put your things away?’ Aunt Phoebe opened the wardrobe door. ‘I’ll help you, while Esther fills the bath for you.’

      Esther poured another bucket of hot water into the tin bath that had been taken to Poppy’s room and set in the ample space between the foot of the bed and the dressing table. Poppy smiled at the maid apologetically for being the cause of so much extra work.

      ‘I ain’t got much to put away, Aunt Phoebe …’ She pulled out her old red flannel dress, one of her cotton working frocks, stockings and a chemise.

      ‘But my dear …’ Aunt Phoebe looked at them aghast. She picked up the stockings between her thumb and forefinger and let them drop to the floor with distaste. ‘I don’t think you’ll be wearing those again …’

      ‘That only leaves me with the dress I’m wearing.’

      ‘Then tomorrow we shall visit my dressmaker and have you measured.’

      Poppy smiled appreciatively. ‘Honest? But how much will it cost? I might not have enough money.’

      ‘You are not expected to pay, Poppy.’

      ‘You’re ever so kind, Aunt Phoebe, but I’ve managed for ages with just two working frocks … and this flannel one was me best till I got me blue one.’

      ‘Your blue one is certainly quite presentable.’ Aunt Phoebe smiled kindly. ‘But one good dress is not enough. You need more. You cannot continue to wear the same dress all the time when you are visiting people, or when we are being visited.’

      Aunt Phoebe and Esther left Poppy to enjoy the bath with some privacy. She revelled in the warm, sudsy water, the sensation of lather caressing her skin. She liked how the thin film of soapy water made her skin look so glossy and feel so smooth. She sensually soaped her shoulders, the silky mounds of her breasts, the soft dimple of her belly button and the drift of downy hair below. Even the splashing sound was a novelty. She bent her knees up and lay back in the tin bath, basking in the water’s all-enveloping embrace. It ran in her ears, strangely deadening all sounds, seeped through her mop of fair curls to her scalp, and she shook her head gently to saturate every strand. She rolled onto her stomach and dipped her face in the water, screwing up her eyes. Surfacing again, she puffed out her cheeks and blew the bubbles away, stroking away the long tresses of hair that clung to her smiling face.

      Oh, yes, she was smiling. How lovely it was to take a bath, to experience the pleasantness of cleansing, to sense the stickiness and grime being magically lifted from you. It was a whole new set of sensations.

      Being taken in and cared for by a kindly lady, who obviously had her well-being at heart, was a new and unanticipated development, which Poppy had not yet fully grasped. Oh, these new permanent surroundings were different and entirely novel, the spectacular cleanliness of the place was astonishing, as was the cosseting warmth and cosiness. But the extent of her good fortune, and the changes that must inevitably ensue, she had yet not had time yet to speculate on, nor understand.

      Poppy began to wonder what life would be like in this comfortable house among these people. She liked Aunt Phoebe. She had liked her from the moment she saw her; her plump homeliness, and her unassailable wisdom. She possessed also a sort of benign pomposity that seemed comical to Poppy and which might be fun to provoke from time to time. Aunt Phoebe exuded a reassuring confidence that told Poppy she would be safe, even protected, from the seedy side of life that Minnie was being drawn into. Poppy ought even to make a friend of Esther. After all, she was no better than Esther. She’d even aspired to being a maid, like Esther. And if these were the sort of comfortable surroundings a maid was privy to, then maybe it was not such a bad life.

      Poppy lay down again and stretched contentedly, watching the warm water make a little pool in the dimple of her belly button. This was how other people lived, those more privileged, who did not have the transitory and uncertain life of living in navvy encampments, with the breadwinner hired and fired at the whim of the contractor. However, this home, she could already appreciate, was above and beyond what the average working family might enjoy, even those with settled roots. Routines here seemed sedate. There was no rush, no fuss. Nothing, it appeared, was too much trouble. She was certain she would be able to settle down happily here. For her part, she would try her best to fit in, to belong. She was already missing her mother, her brothers and sisters, but this offer of shelter from Aunt Phoebe – and in such a place – was a godsend she could never have foretold, and neither could she have refused it.

      The bath water was cooling down and she stood up, feeling the simple pleasure of it trickling down over her body and her legs, seeing how her skin glistened in the fading daylight from the window. She reached for the towel that Esther had draped over a chair back and rubbed herself dry, delighted by the firm roughness of the towel over her skin. She stepped out of the bath onto the edge of another towel Esther had thoughtfully laid there, and dried her feet. Then she rubbed up her hair and looked at herself in the mirror … tousled, naked and comical. She laughed contentedly.

      There was a tap-tap at the door.

      ‘Come in.’ She had not the slightest thought for her nakedness.

      Esther opened the door and peered around it. ‘Oh! Pardon me, miss …’

      ‘Come in, Esther,’ Poppy chirped.

      Esther looked with embarrassment at Poppy. ‘Ma’am said I was to try and do something with your hair. I’ll get you a dressing gown first, miss. You don’t want to catch a chill.’

      Poppy felt a little guilty that Esther was running round doing things for her, things that she could easily do herself. The girl never stopped. To-ing and fro-ing. Fetching and carrying. She returned with a white dressing gown and helped Poppy into it.

      ‘If you’d like to sit at the dressing table, miss …’

      Poppy stepped towards it and sat astride the quilted stool. ‘Esther, why don’t you call me Poppy?’

      ‘’Cause I’m supposed to call you “miss”, miss. I’m gunna dry your hair a bit more now, miss.’

      Esther had brought with her another clean dry towel, and she began vigorously rubbing, shaking Poppy’s head from side СКАЧАТЬ