I could not simply slip away.
In the haze of a London night, Poppy Whitaker and William Hart wed, despite the sharp disapproval of Poppys mother, Margaret Whitaker.
Sweetheart, you need a proper lad, not that Billy, Margaret muttered, eyeing Williams threadbare coat. He was raised by his grandmother, has no parents, and works in some garagejust a proper labourer, thats all he is.
Mother, William isnt to blame for losing his parents when he was a child, Poppy replied, her voice trembling. He finished college, his hands are strong, he can fix anything.
Whatever he can fix, its just tinkering with metal, Margaret snapped. How will you survive on his wages? Youre only in your fourth year at university; you must finish your studies. Well never manage without my husbands support.
Poppy heard these tirades often, though William was away at work and never heard them. Margaret, with her meticulous meddling, tried to sow discord between the newlyweds. She could not stand her soninlaw.
William was a steady man, a veteran of the Army, and he loved Poppy fiercely. She could not imagine life without him. Even before the wedding he had pleaded:
Lets live with my grandmother, Agnes. Its only a twobed flat, not the fourbed house your parents own. He knew Margaret could not tolerate him, though he got along with Poppys father. In the Whitaker household, Margaret ruled with iron will.
If Margaret decided on something, she would see it through by any means. Poppy knew this, so she held fast to her own choices, ignoring her mother and relying mainly on herself. Margarets irritation at Poppys independence only deepened, for she recognised in her daughter the same stubborn streak that had shaped her own character.
Poppy understood Williams irritation with her mother, yet she coaxed him to stay with her parents for a while.
Will, Im still studying, youre the only earner; we cant survive on a single salary. Mother will always help.
Fine, well see, William said, conceding.
One fogladen afternoon William received his pay and drifted into a supermarket to buy provisions. Poppy had not yet returned from her lecture. Margaret, spotting the groceries, erupted:
Who asked you to buy that?
I decided myself, William answered calmly. Poppy loves that cheese, I know it, and also Margaret cut him off.
Youre no one here, you have no place, and I tolerate you only for my daughter, who has chosen you. Her words slammed into him like a cold wind.
Margaret, why insult me? Im speaking respectfully.
Look at him, hell even try to teach me, she snarled. Listen well: every pound you earn from now on goes to me. Ill decide how you spend it, even the food. Understood?
Why should I give you my wages? William asked, bewildered. We have a family of our own.
There is no family here, Margaret retorted. Hand over the money.
I earned it, and Ill give it to my wife.
Then leave my flat this instant. I do not wish to see you.
William walked out. For three days he vanished, no word. Poppy waited, too frightened to go after him, though she knew his departure was not without causeshe was pregnant, after all.
He doesnt even call, she thought, he must be with his grandmother Agnes.
Margaret gave Poppy a brief version of the story, painting William as the offender, but omitted the part about demanding the wages and evicting him.
Mother, you were honest with me? Poppy asked, suspicion twining her words. William could not just leave.
Girl, you doubt my truth? Why would I lie? Margaret replied.
On the fourth day Poppy decided to visit Williams grandmother. He still gave no answer to her calls.
Im going to Williams, she told her mother.
Where to?
To his home, surely hes with his grandmother. Where else could he be?
If he hasnt shown up, perhaps you mean nothing to him.
Thats not trueWilliam would not simply walk away. I dont know what you and he argued about, but youre hiding something.
Your dear Billy is always my priority, while you, dear mother, are left to rot. I spend my money and strength on you both, and you are ungrateful.
Mother, Im not complaining. Thank you for the support, but I know you cant stand William. Youre always nagging him, as if he were a stubborn stone.
Poppy grabbed her bag and coat, fled the flat, and paced the misty streets, rehearsing what she would say.
You cannot act like a sulky child, she whispered to herself. Whatever mother says, you must stay composed. Hes an adult, after all. Ill keep my cool. Mother nags, Im caught between two fires, exhausted by my studies.
She convinced herself that William had stormed off because of another of Margarets cutting remarks and was now waiting for her return. She would first speak her heart to him, then, perhaps, forgive him generously.
When she finally reached the modest terraced house where Agnes lived, the scene shocked her. The door creaked open, Agness face a portrait of sorrow and guilt, and she ushered Poppy inside, arms wide. At the kitchen table lay an open bottle of whisky, halffilled, its amber glow spilling onto the wood. William sat there, a halfdrunk glass in his hand, his eyes fixed on a chair opposite.
He seemed almost indifferent to her arrival, not slurring, merely sipping. He gestured to the seat. Poppy sat, stared into his eyes, and all the rehearsed words evaporated, her heart tightening with pity.
What could my mother have said that made William uncork this bottle? she wondered, then whispered, Will, lets go home.
No, William replied loudly.
Why?
I cant live with your mother. She dictates everything I dohow I eat, how I speak, what I wear. Soon shell tell me how to breathe. She wants all my earnings, and I will not hand them over. We are a family.
Ah, thats the point, Poppy murmured, realizing the lie Margaret had fed her about the quarrel.
What now?
I dont know, William answered honestly. We could stay here with my grandmother.
But we need money, a baby is on the way, and a child needs so much
I work long hours, tenhour shifts, and they pay well.
You dont understandmy studies and your work wont let us raise a child properly. Well need groceries, meals, time. I cant drop my course; Im almost done. Lets return to my parents until the baby is born, until he starts nursery, and I find a job.
No, I wont go back to my motherinlaw, William declared firmly.
Then perhaps we should divorce, Poppy blurted, startling herself.
If you cant live with me, if you cant give up the comfort and help of your parents, perhaps we truly must part, William shot back sharply.
Poppy rose to flee down the hallway, but Agnes stepped in.
Sit, dear Poppy, calm down. Forgive me for eavesdropping; I knew this would happen. Ill help you. You need not abandon your studies; I have a small pension, not as much as your parents, but enough to share. I can cook, watch my greatgrandson, promise that. Just, please, forget divorce. Move in with us.
Poppy accepted. She had often thought of this, the pull of parental comfort, yet love for William made her willing to sacrifice. A family of her own, a husband, and an unborn son became her priority.
William watched his wife, tension in his shoulders easing as she finally smiled.
Alright, I agree. Where else would I be, Will? she said, and he leapt up, hugging her, kissing her, while Agnes beamed and whispered a quiet prayer.
Poppy endured Margarets tirade as she packed her things, hearing her mothers curses: Youll starve with your Billy, live in poverty, and I dont want that grandchild. Hell be as stubborn as his father. The words prickled her skin, hair standing on end.
She left the flat, suitcase at her feet. William gathered her belongings, descended the stairs, while the house echoed with Margarets venom.
Lord, even my mother, Poppy gasped, Im glad I left. Now I understand my husband, I see what she brewed for him.
Life settled for William and Poppy at Agness house. The grandmother took over the household, and Poppys pregnancy passed smoothly. She gave birth to a healthy boy, Arthur Hart. Agnes and the young parents floated on cloud nine. Margaret never visited; the grandson was not for her. Yet the grandfather, hidden in his study, called occasionally, asking about Arthur, and Poppy sent photos that made him smile.
When Arthur turned three, he started nursery, despite Agness pleas to keep him under her roof. Poppy returned to work.
Grandma, Arthur should mingle with other children; hell grow faster in nursery, where teachers engage with them. Youll pick him up, its close by, Poppy said. And you should rest, youre still needed. William and I are hoping for a daughter next.
Thus the dream wove on, strange yet oddly comforting, as the streets of London whispered their own soft lullaby.
