Nancy Carson - Poppy’s Dilemma

As he approached, she thought she detected a blush from him as he drew to a halt, though it could have been the exertion of riding, even if it was downhill.

‘Oh, hello, Robert,’ she said, endeavouring to show a decorous amount of astonishment at finding him in the very place she had come to look for him.

‘Hello, Poppy,’ he greeted with equal surprise, uncertain how he stood now with this perplexing girl.

‘Fancy seeing you here. I was just on me way to the tommy shop.’ She ignored the pertinent reality that it took twice as long to get to the tommy shop by way of Shaw Road than her usual route of walking through the cutting.

‘And I was just on my way to find my colleague Slingsby Shafto,’ he felt compelled to explain, ignoring the equally pertinent reality that he was travelling in precisely the wrong direction. ‘Are you well?’ he asked awkwardly.

‘Oh, yes. I’m very well, thank you. Are you?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, yes. I’m not altogether enamoured of this change in the weather, though. Rain makes everywhere so muddy and slows down the work.’

‘Oh, I know,’ she said. ‘All the men moan like whores when the rain comes.’

‘Poppy!’ Robert exclaimed, unwittingly slipping into the role of tutor. ‘You really must temper your similes.’

‘I haven’t a clue what you’re on about.’

‘What you just said … the men moaning like … like whores . You would never say that in polite conversation.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t know,’ she replied defensively, disappointed at her little blunder, which highlighted once again the class difference between them. ‘It’s what the men say, Robert. I didn’t know it was a … what?’

‘A simile.’

‘A simile?’

‘Yes. Of course, it’s perfectly normal to use similes, but yours is too inappropriate for polite conversation.’

Oh, yes, we’re having polite conversation, more’s the pity, she thought, as she regarded his mouth and yearned for him to kiss her. Why couldn’t she make it less formal and tell him bluntly that she loved him, that her emotions were all upside down because of him? ‘So, what’s a simile?’ she said instead.

‘A simile is when you compare something to something else to enhance its meaning,’ he answered, unaware of the turmoil inside her. ‘Such as saying the full moon hangs like a silver disc, or … or … your eyes are like limpid pools … for example. Any such phrase using the word like or as is often a simile.’

‘I’ll try and remember, Robert. I’ll try and use good, respectable similes in polite conversations in future,’ Poppy said obligingly.

He smiled. ‘I hope you will.’

‘But what about Albert in the tommy shop?’ she said, with an impish twinkle in her eyes.

‘What about Albert?’ he replied, with the feeling he was being led into some tender trap or other.

‘Well, will he be offended if I tell him the place stinks like a midden?’

Robert laughed. ‘I doubt it. With Albert it’ll be like … like water off a duck’s back.’

‘Oh, you’re sharp today.’ She looked at him mischievously. ‘You’re sharper than a pig’s jimmy.’

‘Now, I’m not certain whether that’s a simile or a metaphor,’ he said, and went on his way amused.

Poppy was not really going to the tommy shop even though she ambled towards it. When she could see that Robert had gone inside the foreman’s hut, she turned around, acting as if she’d forgotten something, and headed wistfully back to Rose Cottage. She so missed him already. She ached for the opportunity to be alone with him again, to try and win his love. She imagined she had been so close to being his, yet the possibility was all but lost. The pain of unrequited first love increased inexorably and jostled at her heart.

As she approached the hut she became aware of the navvy on tramp whom she’d seen a few minutes earlier walking alongside her as she neared the hut.

‘Howdo, Miss,’ he greeted. ‘Bist heading for Lightning Jack’s by any chance?’

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