We hated her the moment she crossed the threshold of our house.
Her jumper was plain, but her hands werent like Mums the fingers were shorter, thicker, and forever clenched. Her legs were skinnier than Mums, and her feet were oddly long.
We were on the couch with my brother Victor, seven, while I was nine, hurling snide remarks at her. Long Poppy she is a kilometre, not a Poppy at all! Dad noticed our disrespect and snapped, Behave yourselves! What are you, uncouth?
Is she staying with us long? Victor asked in a whiney voice. He could ask thathes small and hes a boy.
Forever, Dad answered.
It was clear he was getting irritated. If he lost his temper, wed be in real trouble, so we kept our heads down. An hour later Poppy got ready to leave. She slipped on her shoes, and as she headed for the door Victor tried to trip her. She almost vaulted into the hallway.
Dad panicked, What happened?
I just tripped over another shoe, she said without looking at Victor.
Alright, Ill tidy up! he promised eagerly.
And we realised: he loved her. No matter how hard we tried, we couldnt push her out of our lives.
One afternoon, with Dad out, Poppy, in her usual dreadful mood, told us flatly, Your mum has died. It happens, unfortunately. Shes now on a cloud watching everything. I doubt shes pleased with how you behave. She knows youre being nasty just for the fun of it. Youre trying to guard her memory.
We were taken aback.
Victor, Lucy, youre good kids! Is that how you honour mums memory? Good people act kindly. I cant believe youre as prickly as hedgehogs! She kept saying that, and gradually we stopped wanting to be awful.
Once I helped her unload the groceries from the shop. How she praised me! She patted my back. Yes, the fingers werent Mums, but it felt nice Victor grew jealous.
She also put the clean mugs neatly on the shelf. Poppy praised him. Later that evening she told Dad loudly, with excitement, how helpful we were. He was pleased.
Her foreignness kept us on edge for a long time. We wanted to let her in, but couldnt. Not Mum, thats all! After a year wed forgotten how we lived without her. After one incident we fell for Poppy completely, just like Dad.
Victor, now in Year7, had a rough time. A quiet, withdrawn boy named Billy Crump tormented him. Billy was the same height as Victor, only bolder. He picked on Victor simply because he could. The Crump family was whole; Billy felt his fathers protection. Their dad openly told him, Youre a man, punch everyone. Dont wait for them to step on you. So Billy chose Victor as a convenient target.
He came home and said nothing to me, his sister, waiting for things to sort themselves. But such things dont fix themselves. Bullies grow bold when victims are left unchecked.
Billy was openly hitting Victor. Every passerby gave him a pat on the shoulder. I managed to coax the details out of Victor after spotting bruises on his shoulders. He believed men shouldnt dump their problems on sisters, even older ones. We didnt know Poppy was standing behind the door, listening.
Victor begged me not to tell Dad, or things would get worse. He also pleaded that I not go and scratch Billys nose right then! I was eager to protect my brotherI’d even kill for him! Involving Dad wasnt wise; he might clash with Billys father, and prison wasnt far off
Tomorrow was Friday.
Poppy, pretending to go shopping, escorted us to school and secretly asked to see Billy. I showed him. Let him know, you rascal! What followed was spectacular. Victors English lesson started. Poppy popped into the class, hair neat, nails done, voice sweet, and asked Billy Crump to step out because she had business with him.
The teacher, MrsJenkins, obliged, not suspecting a thing. Billy calmly left, assuming Poppy was some new organiser. He was supposed to hand out carnations to the class in honour of war heroes. Poppy grabbed him by the chest, lifted him off the floor and hissed:
What do you want from my son?
From which son? he stammered.
From Victor Crumb!
Nothing
I want nothing! Because if you lay a hand on my son again, come near him, or look at him the wrong way, Ill have you dead, you wretch!
Auntie, let me go, Billy squeaked.
Dont you dare! Poppy shouted. And try anything about me. Ill put your father in prison for grooming a juvenile offender! Got it? Tell the teacher Im your neighbour, you asked for the key! After lessons youll apologise to Victor! Ill see to it myself
He scurried back to the classroom, fixing his uniform, muttering about the neighbour. He never looked at Victor the same way again. He even apologised that dayshort, jerky, but an apology.
Dont tell Dad, Poppy asked us. We couldnt hold back and spilled everything. He was thrilled.
At some point she steered me onto the right path. I fell, at sixteen, into that dreadful love where hormones cloud the mind and you crave the forbidden.
Its embarrassing to recall! Fine, Ill tell. I got involved with an unemployed, perpetually drunk pianist, completely oblivious to the obvious. He whispered to my untrained ears that I was his muse, and I melted in his arms like wax. It was my first encounter with a man.
Mum visited the pianist and asked two questions: Does he ever sober up and what will we live on? With a solid life plan she promised to consider our loves futureprovided the pianist took responsibility for my upkeep. Because a single shabby flat wasnt enough to prove serious intentions.
He was five years younger than Poppy, and I was twentyfive years older than him. She didnt mince words with him. I wont repeat the pianists answers here, but Ive never felt more ashamed before Mum, especially when she said, I thought you were smarter.
And that was the end of my love storymessy and ugly. But it never reached prisonfor either the pianist or Dad. Poppy intervened just in time
Years have passed. Victor and I now have families built on love, respect, and looking out for each other when someone errs. All these values were taught by Poppy.
Theres no woman who would do more for us than she did. Dad is happy with her, wellkept, and loved.
Once she suffered a family tragedy. We, Victor and I, didnt know! Dad never mentioned it.
Poppy fell in love with our Dad and left her husband. She had a son before, but he died because of her husband. She couldnt forgive him.
We like to think we eased some of Poppys pain. In any case, her huge role in our upbringing was never diminished.
The whole family gathers around her. We still dont know which slippers suit her feet best. We cherish and protect her. Because real mums, even with obstacles like someones unkind foot, never stumble themselves.
