Daisy's Secret (7 page)

‘Lane End Farm will fetch a good price, and Felix is more skilled than you in such matters. You must be guided by him.’

‘Why must I? The house was left to me, not Felix.’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Laura regretted them, since they sounded so arrogant, almost as if she were bragging. ‘I didn’t mean that quite as it sounds. It should be yours, of course, and. . .’

‘Don’t twist yourself into knots over this, Laura. I don’t want the farm. Never have. Wouldn’t touch anything of Daisy’s with the proverbial barge pole.’

‘Oh, for heavens’ sake, what was it with you two? Why didn’t you get on? You’ve never properly explained that to me.’

‘I don’t see it as any of your business.’

‘Well, I think it is. She was my grandmother, after all. I mean, why did she leave the house to
me
, and not to
you
?’

‘Because she knew I wouldn’t accept it and she wanted it to stay in the family.’

‘So tell me, what was the problem?
 
Something silly, I’ll be bound.’

‘We didn’t agree on what was important in life, that’s all. We had a completely different set of values. I believe in honour and openness, Daisy the complete opposite. No doubt as a result of being dragged up out of the gutters of Salford.’

‘That’s rather an unfair attitude, not to say a most provocative remark, and completely untrue from what I’ve learned about her, even in this short time. Her neighbours and friends seem to think she was lovely. A charming, cheerful soul always ready to help others. They say she was generous to a fault.’

‘Oh, she was that all right, in more ways than one.’ He dug the cheese knife into the Camembert and cut himself a large chunk.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

Robert placed a portion with painstaking care upon a cracker and, noting how entirely focused he was upon eating it, refusing absolutely to respond, Laura gave up and ordered coffee. They took it in the lounge, in a strained, uncomfortable silence and it wasn’t until after the bill had been paid when he was shrugging into his overcoat, that her father again referred to Laura’s plan to reopen the house to guests.

‘I hope I’ve put an end to this nonsense of your opening it again as a guest house. Utter tosh! Nor will I have you prying into Daisy’s life. Sell the dratted farm and have done with it.’

‘I don’t think I can do that.’

He glared at her, the expression in his grey eyes hard as flint. ‘Are you deliberately defying me, Laura?’

She shook her head, desperately striving to curb her impatience. ‘I’m simply trying to understand the woman who left me a house she loved, presumably because she thought I would love it too. And I’m not sure I deserve such generosity, since I feel I neglected her shamefully. My own grandmother!’

‘For which you blame me, I suppose.’

Laura sighed. ‘I’m sorry you found it necessary to cut me off from her as a child but I wouldn’t dream of blaming you. How can I, since I don’t have a proper explanation of what went wrong between you? If anything, I blame myself.’ She kept her eyes downcast as she began to button up her own coat, deliberately avoiding the chill of his gaze. ‘I should have stood up to you more as I got older, and to Felix. I intend to do so now.’

‘Damnation, Laura, is there some man involved?’ he roared, making heads turn in the lobby and bringing a flush of embarrassed crimson to her cheeks. Snatching her arm Robert drew her into a corner where he could snarl at her in comparative privacy. ‘Is that what this is all about? Some sort of silly revenge against Felix’s indiscretions? Because if so, it won’t do, Laura. It won’t do at all. Dammit, I won’t have you shame me, or Felix.’

Laura stared at him in disbelief. ‘For God’s sake, what are you implying?’ She might have laughed, had not the notion that it was perfectly acceptable for Felix to have affairs but not herself, filled her with cold rage. Was she of such little consequence that she had no rights at all? Or was her father suggesting that no man would be interested in her? It might almost be worth starting an affair, she thought, just to prove she was equal to the challenge.

‘You want to know exactly what grievance I had against my mother? Well, she was a whore! Nothing less. There, now you know, and if you cheat on Felix then you will deserve exactly the same contempt that I gave her.’

Laura was stunned. ‘What a terrible thing to say. What on earth are you suggesting? In what way was my grandmother a whore? Surely you’re not saying that Daisy had an affair? Oh - because she had a baby before she married, is that it?’ Her frown cleared. ‘Oh, for goodness sake Dad, don’t be so old fashioned. No one bothers about such things these days.’

His face turned a dark red and for a moment Laura feared for his health. The last thing she wanted was to induce a stroke. She hastily began a halting apology, hand raised in supplication but his roar blotted out every pacifying word.

‘I am telling you - nay -
ordering
you to stop all of this prying into Daisy’s life. It’s over and done with. Past history. Leave it alone! There’s absolutely nothing to be gained by digging up old hurts and miseries. So be a good girl, go home to your husband and stop interfering.’

Daisy used the last of the eggs to boil for breakfast, since there was little else in the larder, and tried not to think about what they would do for dinner. She felt thankful that she’d at least thought to bank up the stove with coke so that it had stayed in overnight but she’d also need to investigate later where the rest of the coal store was, and if there was a better way of getting hot water other than by boiling kettles? These, and various other important matters were in dire need of attention.

Since early morning she’d heard stairs creaking, doors banging, dogs barking, Miss Pratt muttering to herself as she moved about the place, and had every hope that soon she would come to see how they were after their first night.
 

Daisy had initially meant to ask for a more comfortable bedroom than the one they’d been allotted but now that the stove was warming it up a little, and supposing she could find extra supplies of coke to refill the big coal scuttle, she was having second thoughts about that. It might be even colder elsewhere in the house.

Yet no one could consider the arrangements satisfactory and Daisy worried that Trish might start up with ‘flu again, or Megan’s cough get worse. Like herself, they were more used to an overcrowded, sheltered, city life, where the close proximity of other people at least helped to keep you warm. Here, there seemed to be nothing but draughts, wide open spaces and bitter cold. Surely the dispersal officer would call eventually, to check they were all right?

It proved easy enough, in the event, to find the coal cellar and together, the two children and Daisy, shovelled sufficient coke into the huge coal scuttles to last them throughout the day. It was less easy to carry them back up the stairs into the kitchen, but with a great deal of gasping and heaving, puffing and blowing, they finally managed it between them.

‘I still need to talk to her though,’ Daisy said.

‘Perhaps she’ll be in the garden, giving the dogs their breakfast,’ Megan suggested.

To their dismay, they found the kitchen door locked. Megan went pale with fright. ‘We can’t get out, Daisy! Will we have to stay locked in here forever?’

‘What, till we die?’ Trish wailed.

‘Not if I can help it.’ Daisy was so appalled she could feel herself actually start to shake with fury. How dare the woman lock them in? Heaven help us, no one should treat children in such a manner. Making a game of it, she urged the children to search for an alternative way out but the only exit, in the end, proved to be through a pantry window.

‘Ooh, what fun. Go on, Trish, you first. I’ll give you a boost up.’

It felt so good to be out in the autumn sunshine but Miss Pratt was not, after all, in the garden. Nor were the dogs. ‘Looks like she’s taken them out for their morning walk. Let’s have a scout around and see what else we can find.’

They found the hens and on seeing how frantic they went at sight of the three of them, all running about and flapping their wings, getting very excited, Daisy concluded that their hostess must have forgotten to feed them as well. A search in a nearby outhouse supplied the necessary mash, and she put some in their metal hopper while Trish filled up the water dish and Megan carefully collected three fresh, warm eggs.

‘Well, we won’t starve, that’s for sure. Though we may end up clucking a bit,’ Daisy joked.

There was little else to see. The garden was wild and neglected with nothing but an old crab apple tree, practically bare of fruit and even that was sour, judging by the one Daisy risked trying, not realising they weren’t meant for eating straight off the tree. Beyond the drystone wall at the bottom lay a wide expanse of ploughed field that looked as if it was growing something, though what it might be, Daisy couldn’t guess, knowing nothing of such matters. It started to rain so, mindful of Megan’s cough, she hurried the children back inside and boiled the kettle for yet more tea, though sadly without milk.

‘Mam used to make soda bread sometimes,’ Megan said, looking at the big bag of flour. ‘Perhaps we should try,’ but since none of them had the first idea how to begin, that idea quickly foundered.

The three girls patiently waited throughout all of that day and the next, for Miss Pratt to call in and check on them. They somehow weren’t surprised when she didn’t. Daisy did her best to keep the children amused by telling them stories, or teaching them little songs and nursery rhymes. There were no books, nor even pencil and paper in the kitchen so it was hard to devise games beyond I-Spy, and they quickly tired of that one.
 

The house had become strangely silent and they preferred being out in the sunshine. Playing in the garden helped to fill the empty hours and they made sure the hens were well taken care of. They lived on eggs, mashed potato and fried onions. But the children were badly missing their mother and Daisy was growing increasingly uneasy. This wasn’t the way to look after children, vacees or not. She felt overwhelmed by the responsibility, quite out of her depth. If she hadn’t been considered capable of looking after one tiny baby, how could she possibly care for two little girls?

The third night they were disturbed by the dogs howling. The sound was so alarming, they all ended up cuddled together in one bed.

‘Was that a boggart d’you think, Daisy?’

‘Or a ghost?’

‘No, it’s just the dogs, disturbed by the wind I expect. Go to sleep.’ Easier said than done. It was a fine night, with not a breath of wind and Daisy lay wide-eyed throughout, her ears pricked for the slightest sound.

By eleven o’clock the next morning with still no sign of their host, and with not even any eggs left for breakfast, Daisy felt they’d been patient long enough. She instructed the two little girls to stay put in the kitchen, while she went to search further afield.

‘No, don’t go Daisy,’ Trish begged, wide-eyed with fear.

Megan added her own plea. ‘What if the boggarts come again, Daisy?’

‘Don’t be silly, they weren’t boggarts, only the dogs and they’re quiet now.’ That was another odd thing. They hadn’t seen hide nor hair of a dog in days. ‘I must find Miss Pratt and if I can’t find her, then I shall look for the lady in the green hat, or some other official. There must be somebody responsible for us vacees. I mean to find out who.’

But she had reckoned without Trish who refused, absolutely, to let her go.

Mouth down-turned into the familiar curve, cheeks awash with tears, it would have taken a harder heart than Daisy’s to prise the child’s fingers from their fierce grip upon her skirt and simply walk away.

‘All right then we’ll all go. But wrap up well.’

The navy gabardines and berets were put back on, scarves tied into place, and the inseparable trio set off together. ‘Just like the three Musketeers, Daisy joked. ‘We’ll soon find Miss Pratt and get this all sorted out.’

They walked the length of the village street knocking at every door, but an hour later, were no closer to finding her. Many of the neighbours expressed their concern, urging Daisy to call again if they didn’t find her.
 

‘She has got a bit odd lately,’ one woman admitted. ‘Taken to walking them dogs for hour upon hour on the hills. But she loves her garden and her hens. She’ll be back soon, I’m sure.’

 
Eventually, one kindly shopkeeper took pity on them and suggested they take the bus into Penrith and try the Town Hall. ‘T’isn’t right, you children wandering about the place with nobody to look after you,’ she said, quite outraged at the very idea. Daisy could only agree.

‘How much is a bottle of milk?’ she politely enquired, counting out the few pennies her mother had given her for the journey.

‘Oh lord, don’t tell me you haven’t even any milk? I always knew Miss Pratt was a bit eccentric, and she’s been going more and more peculiar lately, but this takes the biscuit. Ah, that’s a thought. Biscuits. Now, I’ve some nice garibaldi biscuits somewhere.’ The kindly woman began to rummage on her shelves and soon handed over a packet, together with the milk, waving away the six pennies Daisy had managed to get together. ‘I’ll put it on her bill. Anything else you need? Bit of bacon? Slab of cheese? Dab of butter?’