soon settle in, and you’ll feel happier when you’ve got some friends of your own age.’
‘Will Guy come too?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. He’s going to London tonight and he may not be back for quite a while.’
Chapter Four
THE HEADMISTRESS OF the village school greeted Amy and Poppy with an air of tired resignation. ‘I don’t know how we’ll cope, Miss Fenton-Jones. We’re terribly overcrowded, and with more evacuee children expected. I think we’ll have to work out some sort of shift system for teaching.’
‘Poppy’s had a particularly difficult time, Miss Dobson. She needs friends of her own age.’
‘Well, I’m not sure that’s going to happen. You haven’t seen the rest of my new pupils.’ Miss Dobson eyed Poppy as if she were about to bite a chunk from her plump leg. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. Most of them are vermin-ridden and I doubt if half of them are literate, let alone toilet-trained. I just don’t know how we’ll cope.’
‘I’m certain you’ll manage splendidly, but I’d be most grateful if you could keep an eye on Poppy. If anything goes wrong this is my phone number at home. I don’t want Mrs Carroll to be troubled unnecessarily.’ Amy scribbled something on a page torn from her diary and handed it to Miss Dobson, who was immediately called away by a summons from an apparently desperate younger teacher.
Amy gave Poppy a hug. ‘There are lots of children in the same situation as yourself, and I’m sure by the end of the day you’ll have made new friends.’
Poppy nodded dumbly and swallowed hard. There was a subdued but menacing babble of noise emanating from the classroom and she was not convinced, but she managed a weak smile and opened the door. Something flew past her head and as it hit the wall she realised that it was a pellet of blotting paper soaked in ink. It exploded in a blue-black starburst and slid down the brown paintwork to land in a dark puddle on the bare floorboards. As she stepped into the room she found her way barred by a boy with an unpleasant expression on his foxy face. ‘I know you,’ he said in a whisper. ‘You’re the kid what pushed Violet downstairs. Could’ve killed her.’
Poppy backed away and found herself pinned to the ink-covered wall. ‘It was an accident.’
‘Sid Guppy, I won’t tell you again. Sit down.’ There was a note of resignation in the young teacher’s voice.
‘Better watch out for me at break-time, Popeye,’ Sid hissed.
‘I won’t tell you again, Sid Guppy.’
‘Yes, Miss Morris.’ He slithered onto a seat, pulling a face at Poppy under cover of wiping his nose on his sleeve.
‘What’s your name?’ Miss Morris pointed a ruler at Poppy. ‘I’ve called the register and you don’t seem to be on it.’
‘Poppy Brown, miss.’
‘Sit down and I’ll take your details later. Now, children, Miss Dobson is going to divide you into groups according to age. Come to the front when your name is called.’ She handed the register to the headmistress.
To her dismay, Poppy found herself sharing a desk with Sid Guppy. She tried to protest but she found herself ignored by the hard-pressed teachers as they marshalled their classes together and herded the younger children into another room. Making her way to her seat Poppy was met by grinning faces and subdued sniggers.
Vera Brice, who had been in Poppy’s class at school, shot her a sympathetic glance. ‘Look at your back,’ she whispered. ‘You’ve got ink all over your blouse.’
Poppy acknowledged this piece of information, biting her lip. Mrs Carroll would kill her when she got home. The blouse had belonged to Miss Pamela and probably cost a small fortune.
‘Hurry up and sit down, Poppy. We’ll begin with reading.’
Poppy put as much distance between herself and Sid as was possible. She knew that he was laughing at her, but she refused to look at him.
Miss Morris placed a pile of books on the front desks, and they were passed
‘Will Guy come too?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. He’s going to London tonight and he may not be back for quite a while.’
Chapter Four
THE HEADMISTRESS OF the village school greeted Amy and Poppy with an air of tired resignation. ‘I don’t know how we’ll cope, Miss Fenton-Jones. We’re terribly overcrowded, and with more evacuee children expected. I think we’ll have to work out some sort of shift system for teaching.’
‘Poppy’s had a particularly difficult time, Miss Dobson. She needs friends of her own age.’
‘Well, I’m not sure that’s going to happen. You haven’t seen the rest of my new pupils.’ Miss Dobson eyed Poppy as if she were about to bite a chunk from her plump leg. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. Most of them are vermin-ridden and I doubt if half of them are literate, let alone toilet-trained. I just don’t know how we’ll cope.’
‘I’m certain you’ll manage splendidly, but I’d be most grateful if you could keep an eye on Poppy. If anything goes wrong this is my phone number at home. I don’t want Mrs Carroll to be troubled unnecessarily.’ Amy scribbled something on a page torn from her diary and handed it to Miss Dobson, who was immediately called away by a summons from an apparently desperate younger teacher.
Amy gave Poppy a hug. ‘There are lots of children in the same situation as yourself, and I’m sure by the end of the day you’ll have made new friends.’
Poppy nodded dumbly and swallowed hard. There was a subdued but menacing babble of noise emanating from the classroom and she was not convinced, but she managed a weak smile and opened the door. Something flew past her head and as it hit the wall she realised that it was a pellet of blotting paper soaked in ink. It exploded in a blue-black starburst and slid down the brown paintwork to land in a dark puddle on the bare floorboards. As she stepped into the room she found her way barred by a boy with an unpleasant expression on his foxy face. ‘I know you,’ he said in a whisper. ‘You’re the kid what pushed Violet downstairs. Could’ve killed her.’
Poppy backed away and found herself pinned to the ink-covered wall. ‘It was an accident.’
‘Sid Guppy, I won’t tell you again. Sit down.’ There was a note of resignation in the young teacher’s voice.
‘Better watch out for me at break-time, Popeye,’ Sid hissed.
‘I won’t tell you again, Sid Guppy.’
‘Yes, Miss Morris.’ He slithered onto a seat, pulling a face at Poppy under cover of wiping his nose on his sleeve.
‘What’s your name?’ Miss Morris pointed a ruler at Poppy. ‘I’ve called the register and you don’t seem to be on it.’
‘Poppy Brown, miss.’
‘Sit down and I’ll take your details later. Now, children, Miss Dobson is going to divide you into groups according to age. Come to the front when your name is called.’ She handed the register to the headmistress.
To her dismay, Poppy found herself sharing a desk with Sid Guppy. She tried to protest but she found herself ignored by the hard-pressed teachers as they marshalled their classes together and herded the younger children into another room. Making her way to her seat Poppy was met by grinning faces and subdued sniggers.
Vera Brice, who had been in Poppy’s class at school, shot her a sympathetic glance. ‘Look at your back,’ she whispered. ‘You’ve got ink all over your blouse.’
Poppy acknowledged this piece of information, biting her lip. Mrs Carroll would kill her when she got home. The blouse had belonged to Miss Pamela and probably cost a small fortune.
‘Hurry up and sit down, Poppy. We’ll begin with reading.’
Poppy put as much distance between herself and Sid as was possible. She knew that he was laughing at her, but she refused to look at him.
Miss Morris placed a pile of books on the front desks, and they were passed
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