Where the Heart Is

by Glenice Crossland

  ‘Where are you going next then?’

  ‘Where my feet take me, little one.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Maybe to Lancaster, I’m sure that’s a wonderful castle.’

  ‘I’ve been to a castle,’ Daisy volunteered.

  ‘Well, where was that then?’

  ‘It’s called Wentworth Castle. We walked there one day.’

  ‘So you like castles?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘Maybe you were a fine lady who resided in one once.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I can’t remember it.’

  ‘Ah, no, you won’t remember until you see the place where you lived before. Only then will you recognise it as your spiritual home. Now when I visited Conway – that’s a fine Welsh castle – I had the feeling I’d been there before. Then there was Colchester … a finer castle I never did see.’

  ‘I wonder where my castle could be?’ Daisy wondered.

  ‘Here.’

  She giggled. ‘This isn’t a castle.’

  ‘Yes, it is. Your home is your castle, especially a home such as this where the door is ever open and welcoming. Not many people would trust me to sit in their home, or be kind enough to give me their bread and a sup. Most folk’d be keeping an eye on me in case I stole their valuables.’

  ‘We haven’t got any.’

  ‘Well, I can see two with my own eyes, hanging on the wall up there.’ He pointed to the watercolours that had once belonged to Mr Jessops.

  ‘They’re of value, and don’t you doubt that fact.’ The tramp finished his tea. ‘Ah, well, I’ll be off then, little Curlylocks.’

  Daisy suddenly had a brainwave. She went to the drawer in the living-room sideboard then she called to Sally, ‘I’m just walking a little way with this man.’

  ‘Don’t go far,’ her mother answered as she waved the tramp on his way.

  ‘When you find your spiritual home, will you stay there?’ Daisy queried.

  ‘Ah, no, I’ll be around these parts again some time or other. It’s the wanderlust I was born with, to be sure.’

  ‘Will you be cold when winter comes?’

  ‘I shall be as cold as a penguin. I shall take shelter in a barn or two, but I shall be frozen to the marrow.’

  ‘I’ve got a present for you then.’ Daisy gave him the pixie hat. ‘To keep your ears warm.’

  The tramp looked at the hat and put it on his head, fastening it beneath the bush of his beard. He looked so odd that Daisy had to bite her lips to prevent herself from laughing. But the man was absolutely delighted.

  ‘I shall treasure it always,’ he told her.

  Then he set off down the hill, maybe in the direction of Lancaster, Daisy wasn’t sure. She couldn’t wait to begin a story about a knight who died and came back to find his spiritual home. ‘At least he’ll have warm ears,’ she muttered to herself as she went back into the house, the home the tramp had called a castle. It looked like an ordinary house to Daisy. A house without a pixie hat, much to her delight.

  ‘Have you ever had your ears examined, Danny?’

  ‘What?’

  Sally moved closer and shouted, wondering if they could hear her next-door.

  ‘Oh, no, I’m all right as I am, thanks.’

  ‘Yes, but you would enjoy things more if you did. You could listen to the wireless and enjoy conversations, properly.’

  ‘No, I won’t be going to the station.’

  ‘You’d be able to chat up the lady from the Salvation Army …’

  He must have heard that because he grinned.

  ‘So shall I ask the doctor to look at your ears?’

  ‘She won’t be able to do owt, it’s just owd age.’

  ‘You’re not that old.’

  ‘It were’t noise in’t steel mill.’

  ‘It might be, it might not. I’ll ask the doctor to call.’

  ‘I’ll ’ave Dr Sellars, I like her.’

  ‘All right, I’ll make enquiries.’

  ‘No, I ’aven’t got a diary.’

  ‘Sally looked round the kitchen. Everything was spotless now. Once she had bottomed it, he’d kept it nice and clean. He’d even washed his clothes and hung them on the rack over the fire.

  He surprised her again when she put her coat on to go home by saying, ‘I saw a new-fangled washer in a magazine the other day. You put the clothes in and turn a handle on’t top. I’d like one of those.’

  ‘Might cost a bit,’ Sally said doubtfully.

  ‘Oh, that wouldn’t matter, I can afford it.’ Danny frowned then. ‘I can manage me clothes by hand, it’s me bedding that beats me.’

  ‘Well, it’s up to you.’ Sally almost offered to take his bedding home with her but knew Jim would be annoyed. ‘Shall I see if I can find out about one?’

  ‘Aye, if yer like.’

  ‘We’ll get your ears sorted out first. They might only need syringing.’

  ‘No! I’m not much good at singing but I used to like dancing, when I had two legs.’

  He was such a cheerful, game old soul that Sally went to change his bed after all and took the dirty sheets home with her to wash. It was windy, she could get them dry before Jim came off the afternoon shift.

  A letter came from Ernest two weeks before Christmas. Nellie came hurrying in with it. ‘Post! A special today.’

  ‘Morning, Nellie. Would you like a cup of something warm?’

  ‘No, it’s all right, thanks all the same. I’ve just had one at Miss Appleby’s. Nearly fainted from the shock.’ Nellie grinned.

  ‘Oh, she’s not so bad really.’ But Sally was concentrating on her brother’s letter. As usual he was asking about all the family and giving nothing away about himself. She was to ask his mother for some of his savings to buy the three girls presents for Christmas. He also enquired about little Ernie Hayes and Betty, hoping Clarence was safe.

  For the first time there was no mention of any girlfriends. This worried Sally at first but she realised he was probably too busy with the war in the skies as it was at the moment. With Nellie satisfied to have heard the contents of the letter and on her way, Sally went round to her sister’s to reassure Enid that their brother was safe. They were, however, disappointed to think they would spend another Christmas without him.

  ‘Should we tell him about Clarence, do you think?’ Sally pondered.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Enid decided. ‘No point in sending dismal news from home. Better to try and keep his spirits up.’

  ‘When you’ve a bit of time to spare, will you come with me to Sheffield?’ Ida Appleby enquired of

  Sally. ‘Only I need to do some Christmas shopping.’

  ‘Well! We could have gone now, if I’d known. I’d have put on my best coat and shoes.’

  ‘You always look nice, Sally, there’s nowt wrong with the things you’re wearing. Oh, and I want to put some flowers on the music teacher’s grave, while I’m down in the bottoms.’

  ‘What about your legs? It’s a fair walk to the churchyard if you’re going tramping round Sheffield too.’

  ‘The exercise’ll do me legs good. Well, are we going or aren’t we?’

  ‘All right. I’ll just nip home and fetch my purse.’

  ‘No, yer won’t. If you’re going for my benefit, I’m paying.’

  Ida had done the washing up herself and also made the bed. It was obvious how much better she was feeling. Sally thought she might soon find herself redundant. Ida bustled about, putting on a bit of powder and titivating her hair. Then she put on her best hat and coat. She seemed to have shed ten years in the last few weeks.

  ‘Right then, we’ll go down the Donkey Path this morning, if I can hold on to yer arm? It’ll save time.’

  Sally thought Ida might find the slope difficult, but she set off at a steady pace and never stumbled once. She paused near the donkey stone to admire a hawthorn hedge adorned with spiders, webs and glistening with dewdrops.

  ‘Now isn’t that a sight for sore eyes? I haven’t seen owt so
beautiful in years. Oh, when I think of all the time I’ve wasted, sitting doing nothing instead of being useful.’

  ‘Well, you can make up for it now.’

  ‘The truth is I was ashamed, thought everybody were talking about me. That was because I was so soft-centred.’

  ‘Self-centred. Soft centres are chocolates. So what do you think now?’

  ‘I don’t care. I’m too old to be bothered what anybody thinks, except our Donald. He and his family are the only ones who matter. And he’s reassured me that they all love me and aren’t going to disband me.’

  ‘What?’ Sally was stumped for a moment. ‘Oh, you mean abandon you? Of course they won’t do that.’ They reached the churchyard and found the grave colourful with flowers. Sally removed a few that were dead and placed the new chrysanthemums that’d brought in one of the vases.

  ‘I knew there’d be plenty of flowers on. That’s because we all thought so much of her,’ Ida declared.

  Sally stifled a grin, relieved by the change in her but amused by it too. She’d be saying black was white next.

  At the bus stop they sat on a bench to wait. On the wall facing them somebody had written that Hitler should be strung up in a particularly painful manner, and someone called Thelma had apparently been in the Donkey Wood with half the boys in the top form, with explicit details of exactly what had occurred. Ida either didn’t understand half of it, or chose to ignore it, but Sally noticed the way her eyes kept straying to a drawing of an enormous penis. She was relieved when the bus arrived and they were finally on their way to the city.

  Sheffield was almost unrecognisable to Ida, who hadn’t visited the place for many years. Nevertheless she found gifts for Donald and his family. Ida was out of touch with the modern way of life and counted on Sally to help her choose something her small grandson and his teenage brother would enjoy. After the shopping spree they had lunch at the municipal restaurant before catching the bus home.

  Ida had tears in her eyes as she noted the destruction of all the fine shops and old buildings.

  ‘That lad was right,’ she told Sally suddenly.

  ‘What lad?’

  ‘That lad who’d been writing on the bus shelter wall. Hitler does want stringing up by his balls.’

  ‘Ida Appleby,’ Sally spluttered, ‘you’ll never go to Heaven using language like that!’

  ‘No,’ said Ida. ‘Neither will Hitler.’

  Charlotte waited at the school gate for Daisy Butler to come out. The little girl was easily recognisable by her mop of curls. She knew Daisy would walk with her friend to the corner and then they would part company. The two girls were always the last to leave the school, and today they didn’t vary from their routine. Carol left her friend and crossed the road to where she lived. Charlotte followed Daisy until she reached a part of the road that was secluded and tree-lined, then she caught up with the little girl.

  ‘Daisy,’ she called, ‘you’re to come with me.’

  ‘No! I’ve to go straight home, I always have to.’

  ‘Yes, usually, but today you’ve to come with me. Your mother’s had to go to hospital and she’s asked me to look after you.’

  Daisy panicked at the thought of her mother being ill. What if she died?

  ‘My dad’ll look after me,’ she cried, setting off as fast as she could, but Charlotte caught hold of her hand.

  ‘No, we’re going this way. Your mother says you’re to be a good girl. Your dad’s not at home, he’s with her.’

  ‘It’s all right, I’ll go to Aunty Enid’s or Grandma’s …’

  But Charlotte tugged at the girl’s hand, pulling her in the opposite direction. Daisy had no option but to go with the woman.

  ‘What’s wrong with my mam?’ Daisy was tearful by this time. ‘She was all right this morning.’

  ‘Oh, she’ll be fine in a day or two, nothing to worry about.’

  Charlotte hurried away down the hill, imagining how the woman would feel when she realised her daughter was missing. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? The obvious way to hurt the interloper was to take away her most treasured possession, the thing she loved most in the world.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Daisy enquired in a small voice.

  ‘To my house, just until your mother gets better.’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t know you. Mam says I must never talk to strangers.’

  ‘Oh, but I’m not a stranger. I’m your mother’s friend.’

  Daisy didn’t know this part of Millington. The houses looked very posh. They passed a tennis court and a bowling green, and she noticed most of the houses had their own little shelter in the garden, not like the one in their field. They passed a street with little shops, a tiny Co-op and a post office. She’d never been here before. Charlotte turned up a long, tree-lined drive, still pulling Daisy by the hand. She was scared. She didn’t know this woman and she didn’t feel safe with her.

  Charlotte unlocked a front door with coloured glass patterns in the top half of it. It reminded Daisy of the big chapel. When they got inside the woman locked the door and dropped the key into her pocket, which made Daisy even more nervous.

  ‘Right then, what would you like for tea?’

  Charlotte smiled at Daisy. She would actually enjoy the company of the little girl, she decided. Why should that Butler woman have everything: Uncle Walter’s house, a husband who loved her, and most of all this lovely child? Well, she hadn’t got her now. She would be Charlotte’s for as long as she wanted her.

  ‘Shall we have some beans on toast?’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’ Daisy shook her head.

  ‘Oh! Well, I’ll make some anyway. You may be hungry by the time it’s ready.’

  Charlotte was sick and tired of eating alone. Mark hadn’t been home for two weeks now, she had no idea where he was. Not at work, that was for sure, not at night anyway. She set about making a meal and laid it out in the dining-room with a pretty lace cloth and the best crockery. She gave Daisy a glass of orange juice, too. One thing in her husband’s favour was that he had friends in all the right places to provide them with a few little luxuries.

  Daisy took a sip of the thick, sweet juice. She liked it and drank some more. She studied her surroundings. It was a lovely room with wallpaper that looked like patterned cloth and a thick, springy carpet with roses on it. In the corner there was a glass cabinet with lots of bottles, like the one Grand-dad Denman always brought over at Christmas. Daisy’s tummy seemed to turn over then at the thought of Christmas without her mam.

  ‘Will she die?’ she said.

  The woman looked shocked. ‘What?’

  ‘Will my mam die?’ Daisy began to cry then.

  Charlotte hadn’t intended to hurt the little girl, closing her mind to the fact that setting fire to the house could have burned her to death.

  ‘No! Oh, no, it’s nothing serious, just a little operation.’

  ‘Is it her tonsils and adenoids?’

  ‘Yes, something like that.’

  Charlotte set the hot meal in front of Daisy and sat down opposite the child. When the woman began to eat Daisy decided she was hungry after all. ‘She’ll be home by now then, won’t she?’

  ‘No. It’ll be a few days before she’s home.’

  Daisy put down her fork. ‘But I was home by teatime.’

  ‘Ah, yes, but adults need to stay in hospital a little longer than children.’

  ‘Tomorrow then? I can go home tomorrow, to my grandma’s.’

  ‘We’ll have to see. I’ll ring up and find out.’

  ‘We don’t have a phone.’

  ‘No! I mean the hospital.’ Charlotte was becoming annoyed by Daisy’s questioning. ‘Eat your tea.’ The tone of voice told Daisy she’d better do as she was told. She decided that she didn’t like this woman after all.

  Charlotte cleared the table after tea and fetched a pack of Happy Families from the cupboard. Daisy considered herself too old for the game but didn’t say so. After a few games
, though, Charlotte became bored. ‘What shall we do now?’ she asked Daisy.

  ‘Have you got any writing paper or books to read?’ Daisy didn’t expect any writing paper to be forthcoming but Charlotte said, ‘Oh, we’ve got reams of the stuff. Come with me.’

  She took Daisy upstairs to the study which had once been Brady Scott’s. There was a desk full of stationery: pens, pencils, erasers. In fact, it was Daisy’s idea of heaven.

  ‘Help yourself,’ Charlotte told her. Anything to keep her quiet! The novelty of entertaining a child had already abated. Daisy found a large lined pad and a pencil. The wall behind the desk was lined with shelves full of books, just like the Penny Library. Daisy decided that if she was to stay here, she might as well take advantage of the facilities. The woman might even let her take some of the paper home with her, if she behaved.

  By ten-past four Sally was worried. Glancing across the field, she noticed there were no children about. She knew Daisy was usually the last to come home, but never more than a few minutes after the others. Sally wondered if she had called in at Enid’s and went to find out.

  ‘Is our Daisy here?’

  ‘No.’ Enid called to Norah, ‘Have you seen Daisy?’

  ‘Not since playtime.’

  ‘Maybe she’s gone to her grandma’s,’ Enid suggested.

  ‘Perhaps, but she knows she’s to come straight home.’

  Sally hurried to her mother-in-law’s but Daisy wasn’t there either. Next she went to Mary’s. Stanley was sitting at the table, sorting out stamps for his album. ‘Have you seen Daisy, love?’ Sally was becoming more anxious by the minute.

  ‘No. She never comes out till last.’

  ‘Well, she’d better stop dawdling about in future.’

  Sally hurried out and back across to her house, but Daisy still hadn’t come home. Enid and Amy were on their way to search the field. Sally had decided to go in the direction of the school next. Daisy might have stayed at Carol’s.

  Daisy’s friend lived in a large house. Her father being something or other in the city, they were quite well off, one of the few families round about to possess a car and a phone. Carol’s mother was rumoured to have a gentleman caller whom Carol called Uncle Harry, who only ever visited when Carol’s father was at work.