This time Poppy was prepared when she turned up at the old people’s flats and walked straight bang into Mrs Parker.
“You’re back, I see,” said the warden, who was wearing a fitted Royal blue suit with hefty shoulder pads that matched her newly blue-rinsed hair.
“Yes, I certainly am,” said Poppy firmly. She’d decided that morning to take no nonsense from the old battleaxe. “So is Tory in?”
Mrs Parker was taken aback by the girl’s assertiveness. “Well, I dare say she is as her ladyship hasn’t stepped foot outside her flat for the last week. She even missed her card night on Friday. Not that it was any loss. I convinced everyone to try a few hands of bridge instead of that dreadful poker she insists on playing. So much more appropriate,” she sniffed.
“She’s not ill is she?” asked Poppy, lines of concern furrowing her forehead.
“No, she’s not ill, but she’s not herself,” conceded Mrs Parker. “Not that she’ll tell me what’s wrong, of course. Says I shouldn’t stick my nose in, I ask you. Perhaps you’ll have more luck.”
Poppy headed down the corridor towards Tory’s front door. She knocked and waited. She heard the volume of the television being turned down and the sound of shuffling. She rehearsed her apology one last time.
Tory opened the door. “Ah, Poppy. Come in.” Poppy felt that the welcome was more muted than before and she cursed herself for her behaviour. After all, her friend had only been trying to help. She started gabbling an apology but Tory held up a hand to silence her.
“It’s alright, pet. Everyone says things they don’t mean every now and then. The fact that you’ve come to say sorry is enough for me. Let’s forget it ever happened.”
Flushed with gratitude, Poppy realised that she could learn a lot from Tory. She sat down and they chatted about the weather and school and Poppy told Tory about the cat-like animal they had seen the previous day.
Tory wasn’t surprised. “I’ve never seen any big cats myself, but it’s true that people used to have leopards and panthers in private collections. Then local councils decided they needed licences to keep them and I dare say a few were released into the wild. I bet Charlie’s pleased.”
“You’re not wrong there. He’s beyond excited. He hasn’t stopped talking about it, and now he’s convinced he’s going to be front page news in the Herald. He’ll be unbearable,” said Poppy, not minding in the least.
She thought of Caroline staring mindlessly out of the kitchen window and remembered why she had come. “Tory, I need to talk to you about something.”
“Is it Cloud?”
“No. Actually I want to ask your advice about Caroline.”
Tory raised her eyebrows. This was a turn up for the books. “What’s the matter, pet?”
“You were right and I’m sorry again for storming off. I’ve noticed Caroline hasn’t been herself and since the day you came to lunch she’s been even worse. The house is a tip, she’s feeding us non-stop junk food and I keep finding her just staring out of the window. She always used to be so cheerful. Annoyingly cheerful, most of the time. But it’s like we’ve got her identical twin living with us. She looks the same, she sounds the same, but this one doesn’t seem to care about anything. And she’s forgotten how to smile.”
Poppy breathed out deeply, relieved to have voiced the concerns that had been building over the past few weeks.
“I think she’s probably suffering from depression,” said Tory matter-of-factly. “Has she ever been like this before?”
“Never. But I had a friend at school whose mum was depressed and had to take tablets for it. She called them her happy pills.”
“They’re called antidepressants. I had post natal depression after Jo was born, although we didn’t call it that in those days, it was just the baby blues.” Poppy looked at Tory in surprise. “It’s more common than you think, you know. But it is treatable. We’ll keep an eye on her for a couple of weeks and if she’s still no better perhaps we need to convince her to go to see her GP.”
Poppy smiled at Tory gratefully. “Thank you. I didn’t want to worry Dad – he’s too far away to do anything anyway. And Charlie’s too young to notice anything’s wrong. He’s just happy to have chips for tea every night.”
“I’m glad to help, pet. And if you are in the slightest bit worried about Caroline phone me. Don’t feel as though you have to sort it all out on your own. I’ll do whatever I can to help. Now, should you be making a move? I don’t want to make you late for Caroline and Charlie.”
Poppy said goodbye, glad that she and Tory were friends again, and set off for the café where she had arranged to meet her stepmother and brother.
“They’re going to send a reporter and a photographer to interview us tomorrow!” Charlie said, the moment she sat down.
“Us?” she replied, puzzled. This was Charlie’s obsession, not hers.
“You were there, too. I’m only six so they want you there to collaborate my story,” he said importantly.
“Corroborate,” corrected Caroline gently and Poppy stole a quick look at her stepmother. There were still dark shadows under her eyes and she looked wan, but at least she seemed to be interested in the big cat story. Perhaps she was over the worst.
Later that afternoon Poppy cornered Charlie in his bedroom, where he was making a complicated three dimensional version of his big cat trap with Lego and K’Nex.
“You need to help me clean the house before the people from the Herald come tomorrow. It’s a pigsty,” she told him.
Normally the mere suggestion of helping around the house invoked a storm of protest, but Charlie was so excited about the reporter’s arrival that, for once, he was happy to oblige.
“I’ll do the kitchen. You can make a start on the lounge. We’ll get up early tomorrow and do it. It’ll be a nice surprise for Caroline,” said Poppy. Unaccountably the thought of helping her stepmother gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling. It was too weird for words.