Daisy's Secret (44 page)

She gave a half laugh of disbelief, unwilling even now to accept his suggestion as genuine. There was something naive about the assumption that she would allow him to stay, something pitiable, and also deeply worrying for Daisy saw that he was completely serious. Obstinately so, in fact. ‘But we don’t love each other, not any more. What we had was a juvenile thing, all in the past. I have Harry now, and you...’

‘I have Robbie. Rita says he were with
my
sister but she’s gone now.’

‘Yes, Annie’s gone.’

‘Well then,
I
must look after him. He’s my, what d’you call it - responsibility. Rita says it’s the law, because I’m Annie’s next of kin.’

‘Does she?’

‘Aye,’ he looked pleased with himself for remembering this important fact. ‘So if you want him back, Daisy, you’ll have to take me on too. That’s fair, isn’t it?’ And he laughed, but for once Daisy didn’t join in.

Daisy felt as if she were living through a nightmare. Rita followed her up to her room, walking straight in without knocking, just as if she owned the place. ‘Well, is it all sorted? Have you and Percy made it up?’

‘Made what up? We never fell out. He was simply overwhelmed by what happened, as I was. But no, if you must know. Nothing is sorted out. If anything, it’s got a hell of a sight worse.’

Rita sat down on the edge of the bed, making herself comfortable without even a by your leave. ‘So go on, tell me why. What’s the problem? Nothing that can’t be put right, I’ll be bound. You always were a drama queen, our Daisy.’

‘
Me
a drama queen!’ Daisy swallowed her natural inclination to do battle with her mother for she needed to get on her right side, so that she’d give permission for her to marry, assuming Harry still wanted her. Oh, what a mess! It was no good waiting for Harry to turn up and do things properly by the book in the prescribed manner. They were way beyond that now. Very quietly, and with excessive care, Daisy said, ‘I want you to be honest with me. I want you to tell me if it’s true. Is the baby really mine?’

She desperately needed an answer. If this was all one of Rita’s cruel games, she couldn’t stand it, she really couldn’t. She’d pack her bags and leave first thing in the morning, and she and Megan and Trish would take their chances elsewhere. The prospect of being reunited with her baby son was mind numbing, despite it being fraught with difficulties. Nothing could be more important to her, not Lane End Farm, not the disapproval of their lodgers, not even Clem of whom she’d grown so fond. There was only one person’s opinion who really counted, and she’d have to face him when the moment came. But how could she even begin to deal with Percy and his sudden decision to lay down rules and provisos, unless she knew the facts. The long silence made her impatient for a response. ‘Well?’

‘Are you accusing me of being a liar or summat, your own mother?’

‘I’m not accusing you of anything but I never know where I am with you. I’m only saying, are you sure there hasn’t been some sort of mistake? Where did you find him? Was he with Percy at the time? What exactly happened that day, you’ve never said.’

‘I don’t like to talk about it. It was awful. Dreadful. Explosions going off all over the shop, me and your Aunt Florrie near blown to bits in an air raid shelter. Then we get back home to find it smashed to smithereens and me husband dead. You’ll have to excuse me if things seem a bit confusing after that, if I were a bit shocked like. And you’ll have to take my word for it about the babby. Anyroad, why would I say he’s yours, if he weren’t?’

‘I don’t know, perhaps to get your feet under my table?’

‘It’s not your table, or at least it wasn’t last time I looked. It’s our Florrie’s.’

Daisy flushed with embarrassment. This was a fact she yet had to deal with. Would Florrie be as keen for her to stay as Clem?

‘Anyroad, yer talkin’ soft. He’s a grand little chap. Most women would be pleased to have their child returned to them, not interrogate their mother in this ungrateful fashion. So, what about you and Percy? Have you mended your differences, whatever they were?’

‘It’s not quite so easy as that. There’s something I need to show you.’ Daisy sank onto the bed next to Rita, then pulling the folded handkerchief from the drawer in the chest by the bed, unwrapped it and slid the diamond ring onto her finger.

‘Well, I’ll go to the bottom of our stairs, has Percy given you a ring already? By heck, the sly. . .’

‘No, he hasn’t,’ Daisy quickly interrupted. ‘This is from Harry. We got engaged, unofficially, just a few weeks ago. I love him, and he loves me, so I’ve no intention of marrying Percy, not now, not ever. Sorry, but there it is.’

Rita’s mouth tightened into a slit of angry disapproval. ‘Is this the chap your dad warned off that time he came to visit?’

‘He didn’t warn anyone off. He told me to stop seeing Harry, that I’d to come home and look after you because you had a bad back, and I refused. Just as well I did, there doesn’t look to be much wrong with you that I can see.’

‘It mended, no thanks to you, madam,’ Rita said tartly.

Daisy got up from the bed and walked to the window, putting some distance between herself and her mother. Perversely, Blencathra looked benign now as a westerly sun dropped lower in the sky, lighting it to gold. ‘It’s good that you can manage so well without me, because I’m not coming back to Salford, even after the war. Clem has made it clear that I’m welcome to make my home here, at Lane End Farm, if I want to.’ She turned to Rita, her face expressionless. ‘What do you plan to do, Mother? Ask the council to find you a new place, I expect. I don’t reckon it would work for you to stop on here. Not that there would be room, with all the visitors we get. You must see that.’

Rita was on her feet, glaring at her daughter and spitting fury into her face. ‘So this is the gratitude I get, is it, for reuniting you with your son? You won’t make the smallest sacrifice, or give a thought for anyone but yourself. You’d throw Percy, and me, back on the slag heap, just so’s you can marry your precious Harry and swank over this nice little set-up you have here. You’d cut us off, just as Florrie did.’

‘Mother, for goodness sake, I don’t swank, I just want to. . .’

‘Have me out of the way. Oh, I’ve got the message.’ Rita stormed to the door, her face a mask of seething anger. ‘Well, don’t you forget for one minute, madam, that you’re under age. I’ll never give my permission for you to marry your beloved Harry. Percy’s a good lad. Happen I made a few mistakes about him in the past, but all he needs is a bit of tender loving care after all he’s been through. And if you want to keep little Robbie, I’d give his offer serious consideration if I were you.’

Even as Daisy struggled to find a suitable answer to this attack, something in Rita’s face changed, a perceptible alteration of her mood. As she moved thoughtfully back into the room to where Daisy was standing by the window, she was almost smiling. ‘You have told him?’

‘I - I beg your pardon?’

‘You heard. Have you told this Harry about your little indiscretion?’

‘Mother, for goodness sake, what words you choose.’

‘Well, have you? Come on, don’t mess me about. Does he know you had an illegitimate child or doesn’t he?’

Daisy would have given anything in that moment to have had the satisfaction of saying that yes, he certainly did know and didn’t care a jot. Instead, she bit her lip so that Rita wouldn’t see it tremble and said nothing at all. Triumph blazed in the boot button eyes.

‘I thought not. Kept your little secret a bit too well, eh?’

‘That was your fault, you told me. . .’

‘I know what I told you. And now I’m telling you that when your too trusting sweetheart hears the truth about you, he’ll drop you like a red hot brick. So show a bit of sense and settle for what you’ve got. Percy. He has the benefit of being steady, unlikely to stray with those injuries, and you get to keep your son. As for where I’ll be living from now on, well, we’ll see how things pan out, shall we? See what our Florrie makes of having her kitchen taken over by a mere slip of a lass.’

It was half past eleven when Laura heard the sound of a bike in the yard. She made no move to meet Chrissy at the door, deciding it was too late to start an argument tonight. Besides, she was far too relieved simply to have her safely home. The next morning, the moment breakfast had been served and the pair were clearing away, Chrissy began chattering about a disco Gary was taking her to the following weekend.

‘I don’t think so, Chrissy. You’re gated. Grounded. Confined to barracks.’

‘What?’

Laura quietly explained to her that because of the lateness of the hour when she’d finally returned the previous night, in addition to her general unruly behaviour, she wouldn’t be going to the disco or anywhere else for that matter. ‘Not without your father’s permission.’

‘If I don’t get to go, then I’m not doing any more work for you,’ she peevishly responded, tossing aside the tea towel.

‘Oh, yes, you will. We have an agreement. You’ve three changeovers this morning, so you can leave the kitchen to me now and get on with it. We’ll discuss this later.’

Should she ring Felix, or shouldn’t she? He wouldn’t be pleased. He’d lecture her mercilessly about the purple hair do, and as for our friend on the motor bike who may be quite a nice young man for all she knew, Felix was perfectly capable of taking him apart, limb from limb. Laura started scrubbing the grill pan and decided against it. On balance it seemed best to give the girl chance to come round, which she surely would in the end. Chrissy certainly wouldn’t thank her for calling in the heavy guns at this sensitive stage. She was a young girl struggling to find out who she was, and her place in the scheme of things. Didn’t she have problems enough right now with the divorce and everything? Laura decided she’d keep a better eye on her and cope, somehow.

An hour later David popped in. ‘I always find you at the kitchen sink. I think it’s time I took you away from all of this and whisked you off somewhere romantic.’

‘Don’t you start. I’ve enough with Felix nagging me to stop working. I like what I do, OK?’

David’s smile vanished. ‘What’s happened? Something wrong?’ Laura apologised profusely for her shortness of temper, then confessed to being worried over Chrissy. She told him about the motor bike, about the mysterious Gary, and the late night out.

David grimaced, ‘Teenage angst. I’d forgotten how awful it was. All those hormones jumping. And it must be especially hard dealing with it as a stepmother. Maybe you should try it for real next time.’

Laura turned to look at him and was shocked to find herself blushing at the impish light of meaning in his eyes. ‘I don’t think this is quite the moment to discuss it.’

‘Perhaps not. I beg leave to return to it on a more suitable occasion. Gary Slatterly isn’t a bad lad, though none too bright and he has got his wilder side. His father tends to use him as punch bag from time to time which does him no good at all. I’ll have a word with him, if you like. Don’t fret about the bike. It can get up a fair speed but it’s not exactly a Harley-Davidson. I wouldn’t worry, if I were you.’

‘Yes, but you’re not me, and
you
don’t have Felix breathing down your neck.’

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her long and slow. ‘Oh, yes, I do, otherwise I’d be allowed much more than this.’ They spent a contented half hour chatting together over coffee before David went back to his shearing and Laura to her shopping and ironing, at least feeling more relaxed and happy as a result of his visit. David was good for her.
 

Wherever this relationship was leading, and it looked as if it might be going a long way, she wasn’t in any hurry to stop it. Laura found that she liked having him around. They’d agreed to get together on Friday evening for a drink and, as soon as the clipping was over, he’d take her out for that romantic meal. It couldn’t come soon enough for her. She was ready and willing for some romance in her life.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Winter was approaching, Daisy’s second at Lane End Farm and she was doing her utmost to make her lodgers comfortable but it was far from easy. She put a small green baize card table in the parlour so that they could play cards or dominoes, and a chenille cloth over the best mahogany one so that Tommy could use it to write out his orders, or Miss Copthorne for filling in her countless forms, without causing any damage to its polished surface. She found an old wind up gramophone in the attic and put that in the parlour too so that when Tommy Fawcett, or Twinkletoes, as he was more fondly known, wasn’t working he could entertain them with his toe tapping. Or they could all have a bit of a dance, if they’d a mind. And Daisy always made sure there was a bright fire burning in the grate, flowers in the vase and nicely plumped cushions on the comfy chairs. She fed her guests well, despite the restrictions, and continued to take the time and trouble to be interested in their lives and their own personal problems.

Not that anyone asked after her own problems. They accepted the presence of a baby in the house, and Percy too, by politely showing no curiosity at all. What they said to each other in private over this puzzling state of affairs, Daisy didn’t care to consider.

However, her aunt was a different matter. Florrie was not at all taking to having another woman in her kitchen. Whatever Daisy did, Florrie seemed to take exception to it and deliberately undermine her efforts. She folded the card table up and took it away, saying it made the small room too crowded. She complained loudly about the amount of fuel being consumed, and put an ugly oilcloth over her best chenille table cloth, to protect it from spills of ink. As for the two little girls, she banned drawing and painting because it was too messy, as well as dominoes and tiddlywinks which she complained went all over the carpet and, more often than not, rushed them off to bed far too early because she said they were making too much noise and giving her a headache. Finally, she put away the gramophone, along with every magazine, newspaper, book, comic and jigsaw because they made the place untidy, leaving the parlour looking sterile and cheerless. Rather like herself.