Poppy Jenkins by Clare Ashton

Author:Clare Ashton [Ashton, Clare]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Romance, Lesbian
Amazon: B01HC65VIK
Goodreads: 30658821
Publisher: Breezy Tree Press
Published: 2016-06-18T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24.

Poppy watched sheets of rain glistening in the morning light. The sun and clouds had been battling beyond her bedroom porthole since she’d stirred. She had no intention of moving and watched sparkling rivulets of water explore down the pane.

She’d been half-conscious of Pip and Nain’s rumblings when leaving for school and Iwan’s deeper voice chatting to Emma. Now it would be just her mother downstairs, the shop and café shut for the day.

Poppy was glad she’d snuggled up in her favourite pyjamas. The faithful set of red-checked brushed cottons were the comfort she needed, and she clasped the duvet under her chin for extra warmth.

She was drifting off again, when there was a quiet knock at the door and her mother’s head peeped round. “You have a visitor,” she said, an unsure look on her face.

Poppy rubbed her eyes and sat up.

“It’s all right Emma. I’ll come back another time.” Rosalyn’s voice came from downstairs.

Her mother gave Poppy a quizzical look to relay the question.

Warm and docile from snoozing in her bed, Poppy gave a sleepy nod.

“Let her up. She’ll have to find me as I am.” She was tired of worrying about Rosalyn’s opinions and this morning Poppy was too exhausted to fret.

Emma disappeared and a few moments later Rosalyn came to the door. She was soaking wet, her trench coat blotched dark with rain and her blonde hair trailing in honeyed ribbons. Her makeup ran and, of the two, Poppy thought she could give the usually well-turned-out woman a run for her money this morning.

“You’re a mess.” Poppy smiled.

Rosalyn didn’t speak. Her expression was full of such contradictory feelings Poppy had small chance of discerning her mood.

With little to go on, Poppy threw caution to the wind, and her feet out of bed, and rummaged through the chest of drawers.

“Here.” She handed Rosalyn a towel.

She took the coat from Rosalyn’s shoulders and hung it to dry on the door. Rosalyn seemed to fail to comprehend the purpose of the towel and, with a smile, Poppy eased it from her cool fingers.

“You’ll catch a chill, or a horrible bug from Pip, if we don’t get you dry.”

Poppy wrapped the fluffy towel around the back of Rosalyn’s head and squeezed her damp locks. Her attention hovered between her work and Rosalyn’s wide-eyed look of hurt and confusion.

“There,” Poppy whispered. “Come and sit down.” She led Rosalyn by the hand. “I’m afraid the bed is still the only seating.”

They perched on the edge and Poppy enveloped them in the duvet. She pinched it around her and encouraged Rosalyn to do the same.

Rosalyn stared through the window, her face still troubled. “I’m sorry. I don’t have your phone number, otherwise I would have called ahead.”

Poppy shrugged, glad she’d been spared the time to agonise.

Rosalyn opened her mouth, as if to speak again, but no words came out. Her breathing quickened, but no voice made itself heard.

Poppy’s heart thumped in anticipation, and she willed her to speak. Rosalyn opened her mouth once again, but it was Poppy who blurted.

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