Daisy's Wars (12 page)

That’s when she gave up; when she realised that he
knew
what he was doing. This was no man in his cups making some vulgar, feeble attempt at a pass that he wouldn’t remember
in the morning. This was Dessie doing what he had always planned to do.

She stopped struggling. He was inside her, and there was no way to dislodge him anyway, so she lay under him, eyes tightly closed to disassociate herself from what was happening to her body,
telling herself it wasn’t happening, at least not to her, not to the real Daisy Sheridan. He had let go of her wrists and her arms hung limply by her sides as she thought herself out of her
body till he had finished, not uttering a word, not looking at him.

Finally he pulled away from her.

‘You’ve been wanting that for years,’ he said, ‘and don’t bother denying it.’ As he climbed the stairs he turned and said with quiet satisfaction, ‘Two
sisters on the same couch, not bad going for Dessie boy, eh? I’ll say this for you, Daisy, you’re a damned sight tighter than your sister. Since she had the brat she’s too slack
to be any use.’ Then he was gone.

Daisy lay where he had left her for a long time, hiding in the darkness, wishing she could stay there forever. When her mind slowly began to function she started to feel panic overtaking her and
lay down on the floor and covered herself with a blanket, leaving one ear uncovered for sounds of him returning. She had no sense of time, but slowly she began thinking more logically. The wetness
between her legs, she’d have to attend to that. And there would be blood on the blanket, that would have to be got rid of, along with her lovely, ripped, stained underwear.

Move quietly, though, she thought, don’t give Mam or Kay any reason to think something might be wrong, nor him any excuse to come back down. Ssh. A glass of water, cold water, she thought,
running the kitchen tap at a low, quieter capacity for a long time, before holding the glass in her hands, then rolling the wet mist on the outside over her forehead. Every sound was magnified,
making her fear that he might return, though common sense told her he would be asleep by now, thanks to the effects of the booze alone.

And what of the morning? How was she supposed to behave? Was there anyone she could tell? And if she did, what would that do to a family already in turmoil?

Her sister; she had to think of her sister and the baby, two babies soon. How could she tell Kay what her husband had done, and, come to that, how could she not tell her? She couldn’t run
to her mother – Kathleen couldn’t help her in any way – but, worse, she couldn’t run to her father either, because he would say it was all her fault, wouldn’t he? He
already had.

There was no real plan in her mind, just the mental crossing-off of a series of things she couldn’t do that left only one that she could: she had to leave.

She crept carefully up to the bathroom and locked the door, closing her eyes as she slid the bolt home, silently praying that it wouldn’t make a noise then lodging the back of a chair
under the handle just in case. Slowly and quietly she washed herself. Once safely downstairs again, she changed her clothes for some drying on the pulley above the range, gathered a few more things
together and put them in a small cardboard suitcase, stopping every few moments to listen, like an animal, for approaching danger. The blood-stained blanket and her red underwear were wrapped in
newspaper and tied with string, then she sat waiting for time to pass and the first light of the new day to appear. She placed the pillows and the remaining blankets on the couch, so that if Kay
came down very early in the dark she would think Daisy was still asleep there. It would buy her a little extra time, and when the mistake was discovered they’d all think she’d just left
early for work.

She let herself out, the case in one hand, the newspaper parcel in the other, and walked down the street till she came to a bin where she placed the parcel. She was an hour early at the store,
so she walked down the street to pass the time, her mind whirling, wondering what to do next, wondering if it had really happened. It was a pleasant Friday morning, the first day of September, and
the world looked just as it always had. Surely everything would have seemed different if it had really happened?

The WAAF Recruiting Office was just opening up and she had to step onto the road to let the RAF people pass. Then she walked on a few steps, turned back, and walked in.

‘I want to join up,’ she said calmly.

The WAAF Recruitment Officer looked up at her. ‘You do?’ she asked cheerfully. ‘Now this is how I like to start the day. Do come in and sit down,
Miss … ?’

‘Sheridan. Daisy Sheridan.’

‘And you really want to join us?’

Daisy nodded. ‘I walk past every day on my way to work,’ she said. ‘I work at Fenwicks, down the road there. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.’ She was
amazed at how calm and in control she seemed, how normal her voice sounded.

‘And what do you do there?’ the officer asked.

‘Well, a bit of everything really. I know how to type, file things, chase-up orders, answer the phone, and I do a bit of modelling as well. For customers, like. I model the dresses
they’re interested in.’

‘And you want to swap that for our uniform?’ the woman asked her kindly.

‘Well, I know in the last war women were sent to work in factories, and if this one lasts that’s probably what will happen to me.’

‘And you don’t want that?’

Daisy shook her head.

‘I don’t blame you, I’m sure you’d be far better off with us.’

‘I want to go today,’ Daisy said firmly.

The woman looked up. ‘Not sure that will be possible, Miss Sheridan,’ she said. ‘You see, the trains will be packed, the evacuation of all the children in Newcastle begins
today.’

‘I thought they’d gone on Tuesday?’ Daisy replied.

‘No, that was just a rehearsal just in case, but I don’t think anyone’s in any doubt that we’ll be at war within days, so the children are being evacuated now.’

‘Well, if I have to I’ll stand all the way on the train. I’ll sit beside the driver in the cab, I’ll help him shovel coal,’ she laughed, surprising herself even
more by how relaxed and confident she sounded. Mrs Johnstone was right, everything came down to how well you could act a part. ‘I’ve made my mind up, there’s no reason to hang
about. I’d rather be busy than hang about. See? I’ve even brought my case.’

‘Well, can you come back here at noon?’ the officer asked her. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

8

When Joan Johnstone saw Daisy that morning she knew something was wrong and took the girl straight to her office. She took in the paleness of Daisy’s face and the look in
her eyes, like a rabbit not only caught in the headlights, she thought, but one that had had a real fright. Then she looked at the battered case in her hand and knew it was something bad.

‘So what’s happened?’ she asked.

‘I’ve joined the WAAFs,’ Daisy said, sitting down. ‘Honestly,’ she smiled, ‘my case is packed, I just came in to tell you.’

Joan looked at her seriously. ‘Daisy, I know you. Wasn’t I the one who taught you all you know? Well, don’t try to fool me. What’s happened?’

Before her, Daisy crumpled onto the desk, her head on her folded arms, sobbing.

‘He … he forced himself on me,’ she said, keeping her face hidden.

Joan tried to put her arms round the girl, but couldn’t because of the way she was sitting on the chair and leaning forward onto the desk. ‘Who did, Daisy?’ she said
distractedly. ‘Look at me. Who forced himself on you? Daisy?’

Daisy looked up. ‘My brother-in-law,’ she said softly.

‘Little Kay’s husband?’ Joan said in a shocked voice.

‘Well, she’s not going to be little for another while,’ Daisy said, trying for humour but dissolving in tears once again.

‘Daisy,’ Joan said severely, ‘you have to stop crying and tell me. Blow your nose and settle yourself.’

Daisy did as she was told and sat back in her chair. ‘I’ve always liked this office, you know,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve always thought of it as my refuge from
what’s out there.’ She looked up at Joan and sighed an uncertain shudder. ‘Kay told me yesterday that she was pregnant again so I waited for him when he came home from the pub and
told him he shouldn’t have touched her so early.’

‘Oh, Daisy, that wasn’t very clever. You should know better than to talk to a man when he’s drunk.’

‘I know, I know, I was just so angry. She’s not bright, our Kay, she can’t stand up for herself, and the birth wasn’t easy, she was all torn down below, and he
still—’

‘And he
raped
you?’ Joan said, aghast.

‘Threw me onto the couch, trapped me there, I couldn’t do a thing.’ She pulled up her skirt to reveal the bruises on her shins where he had knelt on her legs before forcing
them apart with his knees.

Joan Johnstone drew in her breath and stared, horrified.

‘My thighs are the same,’ Daisy said miserably, ‘and my wrists.’ She held out both arms, pulling back her sleeves to show vivid reddish-purple marks around each wrist.
‘He held my wrists above my head,’ she explained, then pulled the sleeves down before placing her hands below desk-level, as if ashamed of them. ‘I never believed women who said
they couldn’t stop men,’ she said quietly. ‘I always thought they must’ve been able to do
something
, you know? But I couldn’t, I really couldn’t, and I
kept thinking he’d stop, and wondering what would happen if I did manage to scream. The only one who could have come would have been my sister, and I couldn’t do that to her, could I?
And my mother would hear too if I made a noise, and she’s so ill, I didn’t want her to be upset.’

Joan nodded. ‘And were you … I mean, had you … was it your first time?’

Daisy nodded and started crying again, her head down.

Joan Johnstone walked up and down the floor of the office. ‘There must be something we can do, Daisy, we can’t let him get away with it,’ she said in a troubled voice.
‘Does no one else know? Your father?’

Daisy laughed coldly. ‘My father?’ she said. ‘He told me I went out of my way to provoke men. As far as he’s concerned I’m no better than a street-walker. Anyway,
he was on night shift at the pit. They don’t know yet that I’ve gone, and, if my luck’s in, when I go back to the WAAF office at noon they’ll get me away from here before
they find out.’

The two women sat silently for a moment. ‘Can you do something for me, Mrs Johnstone?’ Daisy asked. ‘If I write a note to my mother, can you make sure she gets it? I thought
maybe your sister could take it round.’

‘Of course, Daisy, of course,’ Joan said absently. ‘I’ll go along to the cashier and get your wages while you do that.’

But Joan had been making plans, too, and, before seeing the cashier, she decided to go to her bank. She left Daisy writing to Kathleen, telling her that she’d decided to join up on the
spur of the moment, that she hoped they’d all forgive her but she’d only have been sent to work in a factory anyway.

Not that she would be forgiven, of course, Daisy knew that. To her father she would be Aunt Clare all over again, another woman who had abandoned her family, her ill mother and her sister
who’d just had a child and would soon have another. How any female could abandon her own family was beyond Michael, and now he had two who had done it. Just up and left, not caring what
misery they left behind, the shame of it, there was definitely a flaw in the female line. Daisy could almost hear him. She’d be no daughter of his, Michael would say, just as he’d
pronounced Clare no sister of his, despite the fact that she’d brought up him and his brothers and seen him safely married. Daisy knew this even as she wrote her note, but she hoped her
mother might understand, even if just a little bit.

When Joan came back, Daisy handed her the note, and in exchange Joan handed her an envelope containing her wages. Daisy looked inside and then back at Joan.

‘I can’t be due this much!’ she said.

‘I’ve put a little something in there for you, to help you on your way.’

Daisy counted out fifty pounds, a fortune. ‘I can’t take this!’ she said.

‘Daisy, George and I have more than enough, we don’t have children and we have a nice house. You’ve been like a daughter to me, you must take this little bit of money as a
kindness to me. Please don’t embarrass me by throwing it back in my face.’

‘No, I wouldn’t … it’s not that I’m not grateful, but you’ve already done so much for me.’

‘Nonsense! You’re a clever girl and you’ve applied yourself well here. You’ve done it all yourself, so let’s hear no more of that.’ Then she looked at Daisy
and the two of them hugged. ‘I’ll miss you,’ Joan said tearfully. ‘You must keep in touch, write to me here at the store but mark your letters “Personal”, now
promise me?’

‘Of course,’ Daisy said.

When Daisy went back to the Recruiting Office there was good news. A new intake of WAAFs from various parts of the north were headed for Innsworth in Gloucester via Newcastle
for initial training. Daisy was to meet up with them at the station and travel south. So it was goodbye to Newcastle and to her family, who wouldn’t even know she had gone till she
didn’t arrive home that night. And then, hopefully, her note to her mother would be delivered. She thought suddenly of Kathleen’s reaction and a wave of panic almost knocked her off
balance. There was nothing she could do, though, no other way out, she realised. But she would make it up to her Mam some day, somehow, she decided.

At the station, all around were weeping mothers as their children were sent off on the mass evacuation of city children to the countryside, to keep them safe from the expected German bombs. As
the mothers sobbed the children looked worried and confused, each carrying a little bag of possessions, their gas masks in boxes round their necks and labels with their names and addresses on
pinned to their coats.

Joan Johnstone saw Daisy off, the platforms milling with children, the smoke from the engines filling the high glass ceiling and noise everywhere.

‘I keep thinking there has to be another way,’ Joan said, clutching Daisy’s hand.