April 12
Ive been fretting ever since I heard the alumni reunion was on. The thought that I might not recognise Poppy haunted me. The last time I saw her, we were both fifteen, and now were thirty. I tried to picture the woman shed become in that sleepy market town of Ashford, and a sour thought crept in: She must have three children and a husband who drinks too much.
Why I felt such anger towards Poppy was unclear. It was I whod left town, not she. When I arrived, the organisers greeted me as if I were a celebrity. It was a little embarrassing. Poppy didnt turn up among the other former pupils, and I told myself that was for the best my nostalgia was foolish, I didnt need her.
Then, out of the crowd, I saw her.
She had delicate hands threaded with bluetinted veins, a sharp little face like a foxs, and fluffy light hair that was always cut short and sat in a tiny puff, reminiscent of a pressed dandelion. In that moment she looked strikingly beautiful, and I blurted, What a lovely Poppy
Dave Gibbons, a schoolmate, laughed and shouted, Youre not the only one! Look at Claire her hair is long, her skin smooth. And Poppy? Shes a bit pimply and pale as a moth.
Sure enough, Poppys face bore a few tiny blemishes, but to me they didnt diminish her at all. I conceded, Maybe youre right.
I didnt know how to befriend her. Girls no longer chatted with boys the way they used to, and if I walked up and tried to talk, Claire would already be teasing about fiancé and bride. Dave tossed an idea my way when he invited the lads over for his birthday. His flat wasnt as spacious as mine, and it was a bit cramped, but the night was lively. Daves mum invented riddles for us, and we played with the Transformers his classmates had gifted us, with me as the biggest one.
The day before the party, I told Dave, can I invite the whole class?
My goodness, where will we fit them all? his mum gasped.
Please, Mum!
Probably none will show up anyway, his dad muttered from the kitchen. Just set up a buffet table; theyll be standing, not sitting.
Where will the relatives go?
Tomorrow for them, dad said, and well need a tablecloth, napkins, and seven dishes
That sealed the plan. I was nervous Poppy would decline, especially since shed have no money for a present. Everyone knew she came from a large family; her mother was a librarian, her father a drunk, sweets were a holiday treat, and she borrowed jackets from her older sister. So when I approached her to ask her to come, I stammered, Could you do me a favour? Would you sketch a cover for a record?
She looked puzzled. I explained that my dog Biscuit had torn the original sleeve, leaving only a plain white one, which I found dreadful.
Dont you have a record player? she asked skeptically. I knew my own father owned a chain of restaurants in town, and the house was stocked with the newest appliances, not old turntables.
Yes, I have one, I waved it off. But I love vinyl. Will you draw for me?
Poppy was an art star; shed scored top marks and her pieces often featured in school and district exhibitions.
Alright, she said, Ill do it.
At the birthday, while half the lads were on the console and the others watching a film on the video player, I showed Poppy, Mike, and two other girls the record player and a stack of LPs. I listened to everything, but my favourite was The Beatles, just like my dad. My dog Biscuit had shredded the sleeve of their Abbey Road album.
Poppy at first seemed bored; a record player isnt much of a showstopper, even a quirky one. Yet when the needle dropped, she froze, leaned in, and listened as if a march were playing. Mike lost interest and retreated to the console, while the girls turned the room into a makeshift disco. Everyone wriggled and jolted as if struck by electricity, but Poppy stayed seated on the edge of her bed, unmoving.
A few days later she asked, Could I have a listen? I promise Ill be careful!
Thats my dads, I blurted, he wont let anyone borrow them. But you can come over to mine any time.
Its a bit awkward, she admitted.
Its like pulling your trousers over your head and trying to sleep on a shelf uncomfortable, but everything else is fine. Come whenever you like, I teased, mimicking my fathers gruff tone.
Thus began our friendship, built at first on a shared love of a legendary band, then on something deeper, without any hidden motives.
Are you really interested in this girl? my mother wondered one evening. Shes mute, just nods at everything you say. I get that men enjoy that, but its excessive. What could you possibly have in common? Shes practically penniless. A proper upbringing is essential, you know. She should have gone to a grammar school!
Mom, I dont want to travel to the other side of town, I whined. My school here is fine, the teachers are decent, and I was told my pronunciation and vocabulary are excellent. Not every school can boast that.
My mother had mentioned the grammar school before, but I resisted; it wasnt just about Poppy, I genuinely liked my current school.
Let the girl spin her head, thats all, my dad said, its a youthful thing.
Im not spinning anyones head! I snapped, feeling my ears flush red, which only made me angrier.
The argument bought me almost a year of peace. My mother rolled her eyes whenever I brought Poppy home, but the grammar school talk dropped. In Year 9, she once walked into the room while I was studying Poppys figure, and everything changed.
At first I thought it was a fluke when Poppy ran home and my mother said nothing. That evening my father was quiet, too. Three days later he announced, Were moving to London.
How to London? I asked, bewildered.
Im expanding the restaurant business. Youll need to apply to a better school, not here. Ive already arranged a grammar school and hired tutors.
I wont go, I replied.
And where will you go then?
There was nowhere else to run. When Poppy found out, she wept. I promised to finish my studies and fetch her, to take her with me. She sighed, Youll never come back
On my departure I gave her the very record for which shed drawn the cover, the same record on which wed shared our first kiss.
It was clear the London idea stemmed from my mother. I felt betrayed by both her and my father. When a classmate later announced he was going to study in Paris, I told my father, I want Paris too. My mother began wailing, fearing Id end up alone. I remembered my older brother, who had been born with a heart condition and died a year later, and how my mother struggled to have another child. I understood her fear of losing me, though I felt a bitter satisfaction.
London was a revelation. I visited every landmark linked to my idols, started smoking, changed my haircut, and dated a new girl each week, trying hard to forget Poppy. Each new romance quickly grew stale.
When I returned to England to help my father with the restaurants, Id already had two semiserious relationships: one with a Greek woman who clung to me like a leech, and another with Jane, a pale Brit with fluffy blonde hair. My mother, as soon as I was back, began matchmaking. I moved into the flat my father had gifted me for my twentieth birthday and stopped visiting home. She called, I ignored. My father urged me to be gentler, and I retorted, She wanted me successful? Im successful. Shell never get me to marry.
When Mike texted me, I didnt recognise the profile picture at first. Once we sorted it out, I was glad to accept his invitation to the reunion, even though I wasnt formally invited.
She looked at me with a smile, none of the bitterness that had plagued me.
Hello, I said, forcing a grin. You havent changed a bit.
It was true Poppy was still thin, pale, those blueveined hands, though her hair was now longer.
From that moment I stopped noticing anyone else. We talked and talked. Poppy was indeed married now, but divorced, with a tenyearold son also named Ian. Hearing my name made me blush, but I couldnt deny the warmth it gave.
Come with me, I blurted, halflaughing at how ridiculous it sounded. Take your son, lets go to London its far better than here.
Youre still a dreamer, she said sadly.
Does that mean no?
She said nothing, turned to leave. I couldnt stop her, I had no words to persuade her to stay.
Then Ill go with you, said Claire, popping in. Which hotel are you staying at?
The Central, of course.
Ill see you to your room, she teased.
I didnt even ask. I called a taxi and we were off.
When the doorbell rang at the hotel, I thought it was housekeeping and was surprised it was so late. Maybe were mistaken, I mused.
Standing in the hallway was Poppy, dress the same, hair tied in a bun, nostrils flared with anger.
Wheres she?
Who?
Claire! She stole my husband and now shes after you?
I laughed.
Theres no Claire here. Go check if you like.
I stepped back as Poppy entered the room, looked around, settled onto a chair.
My sister Yulia called, said you both left together.
I gave her a taxi home, like a proper gentleman, thats all.
And you didnt even kiss?
I raised my hands, playing the innocent.
Not guilty!
What? Her lips are plumped, and theres more to it.
Im not here for that, I said.
So why are you here? To see me after fifteen years, remembering a promise?
You were waiting, then?
Had to forget you the next day!
Well, I barely remembered you either.
Shall I go then?
Go on. But perhaps we should listen to that record first?
The record?
Yes, I brought the player.
Poppy squinted, a grin forming. You forgot me, but you brought a record?
It seems so.
She grabbed the bag shed left by the door, pulled out something and handed it to me. It was the very record whose cover shed redrawn, the one Id given her as we said goodbye.
You left me the next day, yet kept that record all these years? I asked, teasing.
She shrugged. I took the record out of the envelope, ran my fingers over itno scratches at all. I placed it on the turntable and dropped the needle. Music filled the room.
Without a word, we moved toward each other: my hands found her waist, hers rested on my shoulders. We swayed slowly, like at a prom that never happened. A blush rose on Poppys cheeks, my heart pounded as if after a sprint. Time ceased to matter. All You Need Is Love played, and we both understood that, at last, it truly was all we needed.
Lesson:Lifes twists can pull you apart, but genuine connection endures when you keep the music playing.
