Where the Heart Is

by Glenice Crossland

  ‘Nay, stay a bit longer. Our Betty’ll be off to work in a minute and I’d be glad of a bit of company. Our Ernie keeps me busy enough but ’e’s not a brilliant conversationalist as yet.’ And Amy smiled for the first time in four days. Danny always had that effect on people. She remembered he had been a jolly lad at school. ‘I’ll tell yer what, Danny, you stay and have a bit of dinner with me. I’ve made some corned beef hash and it’ll not get eaten otherwise.’

  ‘Nay, I can’t take your food, not with the rationing.’

  ‘Oh! Sit yerself down, Danny. It were right, what yer said the other day. It is a long day by yerself, especially when you’re worriting yerself to death about summat. I’d appreciate yer company, I really would.’

  Danny grinned. ‘Then I shouldn’t like to disappoint yer, Amy. I like to give satisfaction to the ladies, especially a good-looking one like yerself.’

  ‘Get away with yer! Yer always were a joker, even at school.’

  ‘Aye, but I’m not joking today. Yer are a grand-looking woman, and always were.’

  Amy blushed. It had been a long time since she had received a compliment of that nature. In other circumstances she might even enjoy Danny Powell’s flirting, but today she was too worried about her grand-daughter. She turned to the gas ring so that he couldn’t see her flushed cheeks. ‘Aye, well, by the time I’ve set the table this’ll be done.’

  It was nice to be making dinner for a man. Men always appreciated food more than women did. If only she could hear little Daisy was safe, she would right enjoy Danny Powell’s visit.

  Ida Appleby couldn’t get over little Daisy’s disappearance. It had even cast a damper on Donald’s visit – or almost. She couldn’t bring herself to stay miserable on such a special day. Donald had turned up with a lovely bunch of flowers for her. He had even attached a card which said ‘To a Very Special Mother’. Ida was almost in tears when she read it.

  ‘Come on, Ida. Don’t spoil this special day,’ said Joyce, and kissed her mother-in-law. ‘We need to make up for lost time and get to know each other, without any pretence about aunties and nephews and all that silliness. Now then, lads, how about a kiss for yer grandma?’ Peter and Paul gave Ida a cuddle and she got out the comics she had bought them. Donald asked if there was anything his mother needed doing.

  ‘Aye, you can fetch me some holly from down the wood. I’d like to brighten the place up for Christmas.’

  ‘Sure. We’ll go after dinner, won’t we, lads?’

  Ida and Joyce chatted while they dished out the meal; there was even Yorkshire pudding to go with the beef. ‘Mother,’ Donald said when they had all finished eating, ‘you look ten years younger than the last time I saw you. What have yer been doing to yerself?’

  ‘Well! I’ve bought meself a new dress from Judith McCall’s, and I’ve stopped feeling ashamed of meself.’

  ‘Ashamed? Why ever should you feel ashamed?’ Joyce looked askance at her.

  ‘For pretending our Donald wasn’t mine. That was an awful thing to do. I told meself it was for his sake, but I realise now it was for me own as well. I should have stood up to me mother. It were her who told me I had to either have him adopted or make out ’e belonged to somebody else.’

  ‘It was a cruel thing to make you do, but you kept your baby. That was courageous of you in those days,’ Joyce said.

  ‘Mother, will you put it all behind you now? We’ll all start afresh,’ Donald told her. ‘I know you want to trim the house up, but we’ve got a better idea. We want you to come and stay with us for Christmas, don’t we, lads?’

  ‘Yes!’ Both boys jumped for joy at the suggestion.

  ‘Oh, there’s no need for that …’

  ‘Oh, well, if you’d rather not?’

  ‘No! no, I’d love to come, but I don’t want to intrude on your holiday.’

  ‘Right then, you’re coming. That’s settled.’

  Ida felt a lump filling her throat. This would have been the happiest day of her life if it hadn’t been for little Daisy’s disappearance.

  * * *

  Daisy wasn’t scared to go to bed any more. It was more scary in the daytime when Aunty Charlotte was liable to have one of her moods and shout or throw things about.

  ‘Can I go to school?’ she would ask every morning at first, but then she realised it only made the woman angry so she stopped asking.

  Once Charlotte threw a cereal bowl across the table, narrowly missing Daisy’s head. Another time she was kind and took her into the garden. They cut some holly branches which were heavy with scarlet berries and tucked them behind the pictures in the living-room. Charlotte locked her in one day and fetched a Christmas tree, and Daisy made stars and bells out of cardboard as usual. She felt no joy at the sight of the tree, all trimmed and twinkling, though. All it did was remind her of last Christmas when she was at home with Mam, Dad and Dippy.

  Daisy had tried all the windows while Charlotte was out but they were jammed tight with paint. She had also tried to get to the phone, but Charlotte kept the door to the study locked all the time. Anyway, Daisy didn’t know anyone’s number, even if she had gained access. Maybe she would be here for ever. She passed most the day by writing.

  She wrote about the day Carol’s parents had taken them on a picnic to Longfield Beck. She wrote about the sun filtering through the trees and speckling the river with dancing reflections. She wrote about the insects and the fungi they had found amongst the gnarled tree roots, and the squirrels darting up and down the trees. She described the green of the beeches, and the fragrance of the bluebells she’d helped Carol’s little sister gather to take home.

  Carol’s father had offered to teach Daisy to swim but they hadn’t any costumes. He had told her she didn’t need a costume as no one except them would see her. Carol had been adamant that they were too old to go naked, even in front of her own parents. Daisy ended up by crying at the thought of never seeing Carol again. She could think of no way of escaping.

  An Invasion Committee had been set up in Sheffield in case the city was invaded by land, which was considered likely after the raids on the French coast. Detailed plans had been made in co-operation with military authorities and Mark Kaye had chosen to remain in the city while these plans were completed. Now, with Christmas only a few days away, he decided he’d better go home. He hoped Charlotte had sorted herself out by now. Didn’t fancy listening again to detailed accounts of non-existent dogs and rundown clocks that continued to chime.

  He saw the strip of light where the curtains hadn’t quite met as he drove up the drive. Secluded by tall trees, it was unlikely that those lights from the house would have been detected but he’d better put them out. He tried the key in the lock and found it wouldn’t go in. Charlotte must have left her key in the lock on the inside. He rang the bell and waited. Where the hell was she? He rang again, and again. He was just about to go round the back when the front door opened, revealing a flustered Charlotte.

  ‘What the hell did you leave the key in the lock for?’

  ‘Well, seeing as you haven’t been home for nearly a month, I wasn’t expecting you. Has she thrown you out?’

  ‘What? Who?’

  ‘Whoever it is you’ve been sharing a bed with.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Charlotte! I’ve been working all the hours God sends, the last thing I wanted was a woman. Bloody hell, I’ve enough on with one. Look, can’t we try and have a peaceful, amicable Christmas?’

  Charlotte began to panic. ‘You mean, you’re home for Christmas?’

  ‘Well, if it’s going to put you out, I can go back where I came from?’

  ‘No! I didn’t mean that. It’s just … I’m not prepared.’

  ‘The house looks prepared to me. In fact, it looks quite festive. Are you feeling better? You look it.’ She did, too. Having Daisy in the other room had protected her from the dogs. Besides, the girl had been company, someone to talk to. Now what was she to do? Daisy couldn’t remain in her room all day
, but neither could Charlotte let her go. Bloody Mark! When she’d wanted him, he wasn’t there. Now he couldn’t have turned up at a worse time. She would have to get rid of Daisy, there was no other solution. But how?

  Daisy heard voices. It was the first time she had detected any sign of a visitor since she had been brought here. She should scream, now, before they went away again. Aunty Charlotte had bundled her upstairs and shut her in her room, with a warning to keep quiet or else. The little girl knew by now that she was being held prisoner. The excuses the woman was making to keep her here didn’t make sense. Besides, she knew she should have been at school. She must act. If not, the visitor might go away. So Daisy went and stood by the locked door and screamed as loud as she possibly could. Then again.

  ‘What the …?’ Mark took the stairs two at a time. The screams were coming from Charlotte’s room. His heart began to palpitate at the thought of the things she had told him about those dogs … but these screams were human, obviously screams of terror.

  Daisy heard footsteps approaching.

  ‘Help! Please, help me!’

  She saw the knob turn but the door was locked. ‘Please don’t go away, I want to go home!’ Daisy was crying by now. All the days of pent-up fear rose to the surface and she was almost hysterical.

  Mark didn’t bother about the key, he kicked at the door until the lock gave way. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing as the little girl told him her story. He had known how irrational his wife could be, but now he realised that she was mentally ill.

  He lifted the child in his arms and carried her downstairs. Charlotte was cowering in a corner of the lounge, fearful of what her husband might do. He would deal with her later, he decided, or the police could. His first priority was to get this child home.

  ‘Where do you live, pet?’

  ‘Taylors Row.’

  Uncle Walter’s house!

  ‘Right, but first I have to use the phone. Do you have a coat?’

  Daisy nodded and went to fetch her things. Mark called the police. He gave them his address and told them his wife would need an ambulance. He himself was taking the little girl home. ‘She’s desperate to be home, and no wonder! My wife is clearly mentally ill.’

  Then he carried Daisy out to the car. ‘What’s that you’ve got?’ he asked as he saw the foolscap pads under her arm.

  ‘My writing books. Aunty Charlotte gave them to me.’

  ‘So she looked after you all right?’ he questioned Daisy as he drove her home.

  ‘Oh, yes, except when she threw a dish at me. But she was a poor thrower, like me, so she missed.’

  Mark smiled despite his anxiety. Daisy didn’t seem much the worse for her adventure. Now she was on her way home she was actually chatting to him. The house was in darkness. Of course, it would be, because of the blackout. He was about to knock when Daisy said, ‘Just open the door, it’s never locked.’

  When a strange man walked in with Daisy in his arms, Sally just stood there, mouth agape, for a few seconds. Then she made a grab for her daughter and held her so close she could hardly breathe.

  Jim felt his fists clench ready to attack the stranger but Daisy said, ‘This nice man rescued me. The woman kidnapped me, but he found me and rescued me.’

  ‘Please sit down,’ Jim asked Mark.

  ‘I think we all should. You must have been out of your minds with worry. I’m so sorry I didn’t go home before.’ He explained why he had not and who he was. ‘My wife is obviously in need of medical help. I can assure you, nothing like this will ever happen again,’ he concluded.

  ‘What about the fire?’ Sally enquired.

  ‘Fire?’

  ‘Someone tried to burn this house down. The police went to question Mrs Kaye but found no evidence to show she had anything to do with it. Only now, I wonder …’

  ‘I didn’t know anything about that,’ Mark insisted, looking very pale.

  ‘They were supposed to have searched her house last week too,’ Sally said. ‘And they found nothing then either.’

  ‘Somebody obviously slipped up somewhere,’ Mark told her.

  ‘Are you all right, Daisy? Did the woman hurt you?’ Jim searched his daughter’s face for signs of anything untoward, but she said, ‘Oh, no. She gave me a lovely bedroom with a real electric light of my own, and lots of writing paper.’

  ‘Well, Daisy doesn’t seem to have come to any harm,’ he said.

  ‘She made me eat lots of things I didn’t like, though.’

  ‘Good!’ laughed Jim.

  ‘I’ll have to go,’ Mark told them. ‘I rang for the police. They should be with Charlotte by now.’

  ‘Thanks. You don’t know what we’ve been going through this past week.’

  ‘I’ve a damned good idea, though! If I had a daughter like Daisy, I know what I should have gone through if I’d lost her. I’m really sorry about this. Have a good Christmas.’ He shook hands with Jim and Sally. ‘I expect the police’ll be in touch.’

  ‘I don’t suppose it’s any good wishing you a Happy Christmas,’ Jim said. ‘Not with your wife like she is. But thanks, anyway.’

  ‘No. I doubt it’ll be very festive.’ A grim-faced Mark went out to his car. Bobby Jones was just turning the corner as he started the engine.

  The PC wasn’t very happy. His superiors had given him a right dressing-down for only half searching the house where Daisy Butler had been held captive. Right bloody way to start Christmas! he thought. Then he saw Sally Butler, holding her daughter in her arms. That was all that mattered really, Daisy was home. But what if Mark Kaye hadn’t come back when he did? The possible consequences then didn’t bear thinking about. He would have to be more thorough if a situation like this ever occurred again. Bobby Jones hoped and prayed it never would.

  When Mark arrived home an ambulance was drawn up before the house. He hurried up the front steps and saw the ambulance men trying to resuscitate Charlotte!

  ‘What’s happened?’ he said as he knelt beside his wife.

  ‘Well, we can’t be sure at this stage but it looks like a heart attack,’ the medic said. ‘Of course, they’ll be a post mortem. I’m sorry, sir, but she’d gone by the time we arrived. There was nothing we could do.’

  Mark felt the colour drain from his face.

  ‘Are you all right, sir?’ The ambulance man felt for Mark’s pulse.

  ‘Yes, it’s the shock, that’s all. What a homecoming!’ He told them about the little girl then. ‘My wife hasn’t been right for some time,’ he said, ‘but I didn’t realise just how ill she was or I would never have left her.’

  ‘Aye, well, you weren’t to know. We need to be on our way, sir. We’ll take your wife now. You’ll be notified when the funeral can be arranged. Will you be all right on your own?’

  ‘Yes, thanks, I shall be okay.’

  Mark cried when the ambulance had drawn away. Not because he would miss Charlotte, though. Oh, he was sorry things had turned out like this for her. She had been a good-looking woman when he had first met her. No! he was crying from relief that he would finally be free from her mood swings, free from her jealous rages. To be truthful, Mark Kaye was relieved to be free from his wife.

  Chapter Nine

  THE HOUSE AT Taylors Row was once again full to the seams. All the family were joining in the celebration of Daisy’s return. Even Grandma Denman had climbed the hill to welcome home her grand-daughter. For once Jim didn’t mind. The relief of his daughter’s return was worth all the visitors. News from Bobby Jones of Charlotte’s death had put a bit of a dampener on things, but for a few minutes and no longer. The woman had obviously been insane. Maybe it was a welcome release for her.

  A Christmas tree had immediately been brought up from the Donkey Wood and decorated with last year’s ornaments. Rations were pooled in order to supply enough goodies for the party. ‘Why wait for Christmas?’ Sally said. ‘Our Daisy’s homecoming is far more important.’

  Jim and Bernard went to the Sun an
d came back with as much beer as they could coax out of the landlord, who had been as upset as everybody else in Millington by the disappearance of the girl. All Sally’s family were present with the exception of Pat, who was spending more and more time at the theatre. There were also Amy, Betty and little Ernie, and the house was already crowded, but then Jim invited Tom, Mary and Stanley. Then Amy blushed furiously as she plucked up the courage to ask if Danny Powell could be invited too.

  ‘Danny?’ Sally couldn’t believe her ears. ‘I didn’t know he ever ventured out.’

  ‘Well, ’e ventured out on our Daisy’s behalf,’ Amy said. ‘And ’e even offered to pay for owt what was needed.’

  ‘Of course he can come. Do I need to fetch him?’ Jim asked.

  ‘Oh, no, ’e can manage quite well.’ Amy thought it was time Danny was welcomed by her family. He had been quite a comfort to her over the past week. ‘Our Daisy can fetch ’im.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know …’ Sally was afraid to let her out of her sight.

  ‘I’ll go with her,’ Norah said. She knew how Aunty Sally was feeling. Norah had cried herself to sleep every night her cousin had been away.

  Danny was all dressed up. He never knew when Amy was going to turn up these days so had begun to smarten himself up a bit. ‘Daisy, me precious!’ he said, seeing her. ‘Oh, it is good to see yer.’ He even had tears in his eyes.

  ‘We’ve come to take you to a party.’

  ‘Party? I haven’t been to a party since I was a young man.’

  ‘Well, I want you to come to ours.’

  ‘And who’s this then?’

  ‘It’s my cousin Norah.’

  ‘Well! Aren’t I a lucky owd man, being escorted by the two prettiest girls in Millington?’

  The two girls giggled and busied themselves passing him his coat, hat and crutches, and locking the door.

  The table looked a picture. Betty had placed twigs of holly between the plates, and made a junket for the kids and a basin of Bird’s custard. The cake meant to be eaten at Christmas had been brought out prematurely. Who cared about that when Daisy was safely home? Besides, Christmas was properly the celebration of Christ’s birthday, and they could do that without all the frivolities. They would all go to chapel and thank God that He had seen fit to return their precious child.