The Sweeping Saga Collection: Poppy’s Dilemma, The Dressmaker’s Daughter, The Factory Girl. Nancy Carson

      ‘Oh, Poppy, I’m so glad I’ve seen you—’

      ‘Thank you for your note, Robert. It was very thoughtful.’

      ‘You were able to read it?’

      ‘Oh, yes. It was kind of you to send it.’

      ‘But I want to tell you face to face how sorry I am to hear of your father’s death. You must be distraught.’

      ‘I don’t know about that, Robert, but it’s upset me a lot. I thought the world of my dad.’

      ‘I distinctly gained that impression. And how is your mother?’

      She shook her head and tears glimmered in her blue eyes. ‘My mother misses him as well … We all do.’ She did not want to expand on her mother’s situation. He might know about her and Tweedle Beak already for all she knew, but just in case he did not, she had no desire to mention it.

      ‘Please pass on to your mother my sincerest condolences, Poppy. He was a good man, your father. Hard working, decent, down-to-earth. Very likeable. I’m sure all his workmates will miss him.’

      Poppy broke down in a flood of tears. ‘I’m sorry, Robert,’ she blubbered, taking a rag from the pocket of her skirt and drying her eyes. ‘I can’t help crying over him. I can’t believe that I’ll never see him again. I keep thinking any minute he’ll come walking round the corner with his pickaxe and shovel over his shoulder. If only I’d known what was going to happen to him when he left us, I’d have stopped him going somehow.’

      ‘You could never have known, Poppy,’ Robert said gently and drew her to him consolingly. ‘It’s not your fault that he’s dead, and you mustn’t blame yourself …’

      Poppy leaned her head against his chest and sobbed. It was so good to feel his arms about her again. Maybe this was all she needed – to be in Robert’s arms. Maybe it was Robert she was really grieving for. But how could she tell when her emotions were so agonised? It was difficult to separate them. Was the grief she felt for Lightning Jack any more acute than that which she felt over losing Robert, however brief their affair? But being back in Robert’s embrace only made her weep the more. No doubt he would think her a complete fool.

      Robert looked over his shoulder to see if they were being watched and self-consciously, but reluctantly, let go of her. ‘Listen, Poppy, walk with me a little way. Talk about your father all you want. My own father always reckons that talking about your problems with somebody lessens them, and I’m certain it’s true.’

      She nodded tearfully, content to walk at his side. Rather than walk towards the town, they ambled down the path towards Netherton.

      ‘So,’ Robert said. ‘Tell me more about Lightning Jack.’

      Poppy wiped her eyes and sighed profoundly. ‘What is there to tell? He was a good man at heart. You said so yourself. He cared for us, his children. He cared for my mother in his way, although he drank like a fish and would spend most of his money on drink when he got paid.’

      ‘In that, he was no different to any of the others,’ Robert suggested. ‘But I sense he was more considerate than most.’

      ‘He was,’ she agreed. ‘He was a decent man although he wasn’t religious. He used to take the mickey out of anybody from the billycock gang who came to preach to the men—’

      ‘Poppy, what’s the billycock gang, for goodness sake?’ Robert asked.

      ‘Preachers. Those who used to come every so often to try and change the men in their ways and convert them to Christianity.’

      ‘There’s nothing wrong with Christianity, Poppy,’ Robert said, turning to look at her. ‘And in times of grief such as yours, I believe it can be a great comfort.’

      ‘Honest?’ She regarded him earnestly. ‘How?’

      ‘Well, I’m not particularly religious myself. I’ve had religion forced down my throat far too long for it to have any appeal now. But I do believe it helps to pray sometimes.’

      ‘I don’t know how to pray. I wouldn’t know what to say. I don’t reckon there’s much to all that claptrap anyhow.’

      ‘Well, you could try it. Why not give it a try and reserve judgement until you have.’

      ‘Would you teach me how to pray, Robert?’

      ‘I’m not qualified, Poppy. I’m not a priest.’

      ‘But you can give me an idea what to do and what to say. If you go to church regular, you must have an idea.’

      It was a God-given opportunity to see her again. Of course he must grasp it. He was emotionally torn, of course he was, but he could not just dismiss this delightful waif, who looked up to him for help and guidance with those exquisite blue eyes. As well as being drawn to her irrevocably, he felt obliged to help her, obliged to guide her. Continuing to plague himself in the doing might well end in disaster, but it was a course he had no choice but to pursue. There was something about this girl that he could not abandon. She had got under his skin and was proving impossible to remove.

      ‘Then why don’t you meet me tomorrow at the church and we’ll go inside and I’ll try and teach you,’ he suggested.

      ‘But tomorrow’s Saturday. Not Sunday?’

      ‘You don’t want to go when all the regular churchgoers are about, do you?’

      ‘No, I s’pose not,’ she answered with a shrug.

      ‘Tomorrow then. One o’clock outside St Thomas’s.’

      ‘The one with the spire?’

      ‘Yes, the one with the spire, at the top of the hill there.’ He stopped walking. ‘Are you feeling better now, Poppy?’

      ‘A bit, thank you.’

      ‘Good. Maybe we should head back now.’

      She nodded her agreement and looked at him longingly. ‘And thank you again for your note, Robert. It was a lovely thought.’

      ‘I’m just happy you were able to read it.’

      She smiled self-consciously. ‘Oh, every word.’

      ‘That shows how well and how easily you learned.’

      Poppy blushed at his compliment that meant so much to her. ‘I liked learning to read and write. But I still have such a lot more to learn, don’t I?’

      ‘If you really wanted to, perhaps we could resume your lessons.’

      ‘Oh, I’d really like to, Robert … as long as you … if you don’t mind, I mean … If I wouldn’t be taking up too much of your time.’

      ‘I’ve rather missed teaching you, Poppy,’ he said candidly and smiled. ‘You’re a model pupil, you know. Not that I’m any great shakes as a teacher …’

      ‘Oh, I think you’re a good teacher, Robert. I wouldn’t have anybody else teach me.’

      He smiled again and looked into her eyes. ‘You seem much brighter now. I told you it helps to get things off your chest by sharing your problems. Do you still want to meet me tomorrow?’

      ‘Oh, yes,’ she reassured him, not about to let such an opportunity pass. ‘I ain’t never been in a church before.’

      ‘Never? Well, I hope you don’t grow too fond of it. I’d hate it to change you. I like you fine the way you are.’

       Chapter 11

      The silence inside St Thomas’s church overwhelmed Poppy. The clack of her clogs on the hard tiled floor rang off the walls and around the huge stone pillars that supported the gallery and the