We hated her the instant she crossed the threshold of our cottage. Her coat was plain, but her hands were nothing like Mothers the fingers short and stout, clasped together as if in a perpetual grip. Her legs were slender, her feet oddly long.
It was just Lucy, nine, and her brother Tommy, seven, when we started hurling insults at her. Long Poppy, shes a mile long, not a little Poppy at all! we jeered. Father noticed our rudeness and barked, Behave yourselves! Whats this uncouthness?
Tommy, being a child, dared ask, Is she staying with us for long?
It forever, Father replied, his voice weary.
We sensed his irritation growing. If he lost his temper, none of us would be safe, so we kept our heads down. An hour later Poppy prepared to leave. She slipped on her shoes and, as she headed for the door, Tommy tried to trip her. She almost tumbled down the hallway.
Fathers voice cracked, What happened?
I stumbled on another shoe, she said without looking at Tommy.
Everythings a mess. Ill tidy it up! he promised earnestly.
And then we realised: he loved her. No matter how hard we tried, we could not erase her from our lives.
One afternoon, when Poppy was alone with us, she said in a steady tone, Your mother has passed away. Shes now watching from the heavens, seeing everything. I doubt she approves of your behaviour. She knows youre acting out of spite, preserving her memory with cruelty.
We were taken aback.
Tommy, Lucy, youre good children! Does honoring Mums memory mean behaving like porcupines? A decent person shows kindness through deeds. I cant fathom you being so prickly! she lectured. Her words gradually dulled our desire to be nasty.
I once helped her unload groceries from the market. She praised me, patting my back. Your fingers arent Mothers, but I still like them, she said, and it felt oddly warm. Tommy grew jealous. He set the clean cups neatly on the shelf, and Poppy praised him too. Later that evening he boasted to Father about how helpful we were, and Father beamed with pride.
Her foreignness lingered, keeping us on edge. We wanted to let her into our hearts, but could not. A year passed and we could no longer remember life without her. In the end we fell for Poppy completely, just as Father had.
When Tommy reached seventh form, life turned sour. A boy named Victor Hargreaves, as loud as he was of the same height, tormented him. Victor came from a fullbodied family, feeling his fathers protection. Youre a man now, boyfight back. Dont wait for them to crush you, his father would say, marking Victor as an easy target.
Victor began to assault Tommy openly, striking him on the shoulder whenever he passed. I managed to coax the truth from Tommy after spotting bruises, learning that boys felt they must not burden sisters with their troubles. Unbeknownst to us, Poppy lingered outside the door, listening.
Tommy begged me not to tell Father, fearing worse consequences. He also pleaded with me not to confront Victor then and there; he wanted to protect his brother at any cost. Involving Father would only entwine him with Victors father, and prison was not far off.
The next day, Friday, Poppy pretended to run an errand and led us to school, secretly asking to see Victor. I showed him where Victor sat, saying, Let him know who hes dealing with! What followed was dramatic. During a language lesson, Poppy floated into the classroom, hair neatly done, nails painted, voice sweet as honey. She asked Victor to step out, claiming she had business with him. The teacher, none the wiser, obliged. Victor left, assuming Poppy was a new organiser. She seized him by the shirt, lifted him, and hissed, What do you want from my brother?
From whose son? Victor stammered.
From Tommy Hargreaves! she snarled.
Inothing he muttered.
I want nothing more. If you lay a hand on my brother again, or look at him the wrong way, Ill have you ripped apart, you wretched lad!
Please, lady, let me go, Victor whined. I wont trouble you again!
Off you go! Poppy snapped, positioning herself as a stern guardian. If you speak against me, Ill see your father behind bars for corrupting a youth. Youll apologise to Tommy after school, and Ill watch you.
Victor scurried back, adjusting his uniform, mumbling about a neighbour. He never gave Tommy another hard look; he avoided him altogether and offered a hasty apology that very day, trembling but sincere.
Poppy asked us not to tell Father, yet we could not hold it in and confessed everything. Father was astonished, his pride swelling. In that moment she steered both of us onto the right path.
At sixteen, I fell into a reckless love, the sort that makes hormones blind reason and craves the forbidden. Ill admit it now: I fell for a penniless, perpetually drunk pianist who saw me as his muse. He wrapped me in his arms like wax, melting under his touch. My mother visited him once, asking two blunt questions: Does he ever sober up, and how will we survive? With a solid plan, she promised to consider the future of our affectionprovided the pianist took responsibility for my upkeep. One cramped, smokefilled flat was hardly enough to prove serious intent.
He was five years younger than Poppy, while I was twentyfive years older than him. She cared little for propriety. I wont repeat the pianists answers here; the shame I felt before my mother never left me, especially when she said, I thought you were wiser.
Thus my love story ended awkwardly, without any prison doors closingPoppy intervened just in time.
Many years have slipped by. Tommy and I now have families built on love, respect, and the willingness to stand up for a loved one who errs. Those values were instilled by Poppy. No woman has ever done for us what she did. Father is content, cared for, and loved.
A tragic chapter once struck Poppys lifeshe lost a husband and a son, the latter to his own spouses hand. She could never forgive that loss. We like to think we have eased her pain a little. Her immense influence on our upbringing has never been diminished. The whole family still gathers around her, unsure which slippers to place at her feet, but ever grateful and protective.
For, as we have learned, true mothersno matter the obstacles, even the cruel steps of fatenever truly stumble.
