‘Wait, I have to tell you something important. The number of times I’ve had sexual intercourse—’
‘No, I don’t want to know that.’
‘You have to,’ she chided him. ‘I have to tell you. Peter, the answer is once. I was at the parties, I was on the arms of all sorts of men, but that’s as far as it ever went, not that they told their friends that, I imagine.’ She pulled away and looked out over the green fields. ‘I was raped when I was eighteen years old, Peter, by someone who had known my family for many years. That was it. The one and only time and, the next morning I signed on. I never went home again. I quite understand if it disgusts you. There’s nothing to hold you to me yet, you’ve made no commitment to me.’
Peter put his arm gently round Daisy’s shoulders, and when she looked at him, instead of disgust he was smiling at her.
‘I suppose that’s why I don’t like people touching me – men, anyway. But if you think it’s too much to take on, that’s fine, honestly. I won’t think any less of you and neither would anyone else.’
‘Well, actually, what I was thinking, Daisy, is that you’re so upset about this that I can’t see you enjoying your wedding day with the thought of your wedding night hanging over you. I think we should go off now, find a nice little hotel and get it over with. What do you say?’
‘You mean none of this – the rape – it doesn’t bother you?’
‘Oh, it bothers me. I wish I’d been there to stop whoever did it, but it’s over, Daisy. Life goes on. Now, try on your ring and we’ll get going.’
‘Is there nothing that will put you off?’ she asked in surprise.
‘Well, there is one thing,’ he said seriously.
‘What?’
‘How can I put it delicately?’ he mused.
‘What is it?’
‘You will tell me the absolute truth if I ask this one question, won’t you, Daisy?’
‘Of course.’
‘Well, you’re not a man, are you?’
She stared at him.
‘I think that would really put me off, you see, so if you come clean now there won’t be any nasty shocks later.’
Daisy was terrified, but Peter took her as gently and carefully as if she were a virgin, and she knew instinctively that in his eyes she was. The burden of shame and the feelings she had carried since Dessie, of being soiled and dirty, just evaporated. He was patient and gentle with her, taking his time for her sake, making her feel so safe that she understood for the first time what caring meant. Afterwards she lay across his chest, his arms surrounding her, and wept.
He chuckled sleepily.
‘Why are you laughing?’ she asked.
‘You’re not a man,’ he said.
She slapped him lightly.
‘I’m so relieved,’ he said. ‘If you were I’d have had to pretend the ring was for myself, so I’d have had to wear it to save face and it would look bloody silly on me.’
21
The first decision Daisy took was not to go away on honeymoon. When she met Peter’s two daughters, who were, as everyone told her, lovely girls, she thought about how they must be feeling. They had lost their mother a few years before and that had changed their lives dramatically. Now they must have felt that they were losing their father too.
Laura was nineteen and Libby seventeen, though they looked more like twins, both tall, slim girls, dark-haired with porcelain skin and blue eyes. At twenty-five Daisy wasn’t that much older than them, and she remembered being their age, with all the fears and worries that meant so little to other people. Instead of going off with Peter, it seemed more sensible to get to know them, to prove to them that she wasn’t a threat, that she wasn’t taking their father away from them.
A few weeks before the wedding there had been a dinner party at the family home in Oxford to introduce Daisy to Peter’s other friends. She noticed that Laura had been very quiet and had been watching her all evening, so when the girl got up from the table Daisy had followed her to her room upstairs and found her crying. Daisy had put her arms around her and asked what was wrong and, very apologetically, Laura said she had been thinking of her mother.
‘Want to know something, Laura?’ Daisy said quietly. ‘I’ve been thinking about mine. She died in a raid, too, along with the rest of my family.’
‘It feels so, I don’t know, wrong somehow that you and Pop are getting married,’ the girl wept. ‘I don’t mean you shouldn’t or anything, but it’s hard, you know?’
‘Of course it is, Laura, and if your mother had still been here, do you think your Pop would’ve given me a second glance? She was his first wife, she always will be. I can’t ever take her place, I can only make a place for myself, but it will be second place you know. Nothing will change where you and Libby are concerned, this is still your home and he’s still your Pop.’
‘But … but I don’t think I can call you Mother,’ Laura sobbed.
‘You do and I’ll give you such a slap!’ Daisy said tartly.
Laura laughed and cried at the same time. ‘And her photos, do we have to put them away?’
‘Why ever would you do that?’ Daisy asked, shocked.
‘Well, Libby and I were talking and we wondered if you’d rather not see her photos. They’re all over the house.’
‘And that’s where they’ll stay,’ Daisy said gently. ‘Look, she’s still your mother, you’ve had all those happy years in this house with her, and so has your Pop. That won’t just disappear because he’s marrying me, it will last for the rest of your life. And when you’re married you’ll come back and her photos will still be here so that you can show your children what she was like. We’ll be friends, Laura, but she’ll always be your mother.’ She looked at a photo of Peter’s first wife by Laura’s bed. ‘Look at her, she was so beautiful, who could replace her?’
The girl stayed within Daisy’s embrace. ‘So you won’t want us to move out, then?’ she asked in a tiny voice.
‘Dear God, where do you get these ideas, you little idiot?’ she laughed. ‘You know what your Pop’s like; how am I supposed to cope with him on my own? You two know more about him than I ever will, I’ll be relying on you to help me sort him out. Now go into your bathroom, wash your face and put on fresh make-up.’
Laura blew her nose. ‘Pop doesn’t like us to wear too much make-up,’ she laughed. ‘If he sees a tiny bit he pulls a horried face.’
‘Oh,’ Daisy said dismissively, ‘he’s a man, what does he know? Now come down when you’re ready, and I want you and Libby to sit by me. I feel as though I’m an exhibit in a zoo with all those people I don’t know looking at me, I need some allies.’
When she left Laura’s bedroom she found Peter outside, smiling down at her.
‘Have you been listening?’ she said sternly.
‘You’re a wonderful woman, Daisy Sheridan,’ he murmured, holding her close and stroking her hair.
‘I know,’ she whispered, pushing him, ‘now get downstairs, we don’t want Laura to know you were nosey-parkering outside her door, do we?’
‘But you are wonderful. I do adore you, you know.’
‘Well of course you do, I’m wonderful, remember, you large, tipsy oaf, now move!’
He held her tightly. ‘I mean it, though. I’ve been trying to say all that to the girls for ages, but I couldn’t find the words, and you just went in there and said them. You’re wonderful. I could just stand here and hold you all night,’ he beamed.
‘Take my word for it, you couldn’t stand here another ten seconds, the champagne has affected your head and sure as hell it’ll get your legs any moment now,’ Daisy said, force-marching him back downstairs.
The wedding was set for as soon as it could be arranged, which realistically was September, and the reception would be a come-one, come-all celebration at Rose Cottage, where Daisy would remain until her wedding day. Rationing was still in force and clothing was only available with government-issued coupons, but Mar came up with a s
olution. She appeared at Daisy’s room holding a large amount of ivory raw silk.
‘Brought it back from India many moons ago,’ she said. ‘Never had the chance to use it. I’m sure we could have it made up into something stunning for you, what do you think?’
‘Have you got a sewing machine?’ Daisy asked.
‘Upstairs in the attic,’ Mar replied. ‘You can’t work the thing, can you?’
‘Yes!’
‘I say, Daisy, you are clever! By the way, I’ve been wondering about your people. I do hope they won’t object to me being such a bossy boots, will they? I mean, I promise I’ll step back and give them their place when they arrive. When are they arriving, by the way? Do you know?’
Daisy side-stepped the question. ‘I didn’t know you’d been to India, you dark horse!’ she said.
Mar sat on Daisy’s bed. ‘Oh, it was many moons ago,’ she told her. ‘My father worked there, he was a civil servant, part of the Raj, I suppose, and we all went out, my mother, my older brother Frederick, and myself. Pretty rough time, actually. We’re not built for that kind of heat, the humidity was awful, and there we were all bound up in our layers of English clothes, but still, it was an adventure. We were sent home in the hot season, young Freddy and I. I didn’t want to go, I was so cross that as the ship left Bombay I refused to wave to my mother, then when we arrived home we were told the poor thing had died of typhus. Terrible thing, Daisy,’ she said very quietly, ‘I’d been so angry with her and never had a chance to make up. I don’t even know to this day where she’s buried. Can’t get my head round why that matters, but it does.’
Daisy was silent for a moment and then she took Mar’s hand. ‘So Freddy’s called after your brother?’
‘Yes, Frederick was killed in the war, the first one, I mean. My father didn’t come home again except for the odd hol. I suspect he had an Indian woman out there, they usually did. Beautiful women they were, quite beautiful. So I was looked after by a succession of governesses who didn’t really care, they just took the money and were around, knowing he wasn’t, which probably explains why I go about shouting. Never did have any real graces knocked into me.’ She looked up and laughed. ‘It probably explains why Par and I hit it off, he’s just the same, a noisy beggar. We all are, as I suppose you’ve noticed, but it’s so much better than silence, don’t you think?’
‘I can’t imagine this family any other way,’ Daisy replied. ‘I’ve never come across a family so openly affectionate with each other.’
‘Or so noisy, I’ll be bound! Well that was me, too,’ Mar explained. ‘My poor mother was the only one who ever hugged me. After she died I missed that, so I made sure we all smothered each other to death with affection. I would watch Freddy and Dotty when they were young sprogs, attacking Par when he came home, dragging him to the floor and slobbering over him like great big noisy puppies, and I’d think that was pretty damned fine!’
Daisy decided it was the perfect time to come clean about ‘her people’. ‘I’ve got something to tell you, Mar,’ she said quietly. ‘Remember the first time I came here with Dotty?’
Mar nodded.
‘Well, my family, I said they were abroad. It wasn’t true. My father, mother, sister and her two children were killed in a raid the week before.’
Mar drew in a shocked breath. ‘Why didn’t you say?’
‘That was me running, Mar. I decided to cope with it by ignoring it and doing something else. I ran to Rose Cottage. They’re all buried in a mass grave, the bits and pieces that were found anyway, it took five days to dig them all out. I didn’t go home, there was nothing to go home for. I made my officer promise no one would know and said I’d feel better if I kept working. Dotty and I were posted to Langar the next day. I’ve never told her either. So you see, I do understand exactly how you feel, you lost your family, too.’
‘I knew we had something in common, you know,’ Mar smiled. ‘Right from the start I felt we were drawn together by something, isn’t that strange? I said to Peter that there was a sadness deep within you. I guessed it was a man, but you were carrying all that grief, my darling girl, and you went on working.’ She shook her head. ‘I really do admire you, Daisy.’
‘For lying to you, Mar?’
‘For being such a brave girl.’
‘I think I was more scared than brave. I didn’t know what would happen if I faced it, so I didn’t.’
‘Well, that’s something you have to take your time with. I don’t know if I’ve ever faced it, not fully. You leak from the eyes sometimes when something sets you off, feel a bit sad, you know, but it’s too hard to face it all at once.’ Mar looked at her. ‘We’re your family, Daisy, you do know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Mar, I know it,’ Daisy said, ‘and I’m so grateful.’
‘Tish!’ Mar yelled, her normal volume returning. ‘And what’s more – tosh!’ She jumped to her feet, swathed in raw silk. ‘To the sewing machine!’ she shouted, leading the way to the attic.
22
The week before Daisy and Peter married that September, Daisy had thought of Eileen and, on impulse, tried to contact her by calling the family firm. But before the voice at the other end could take a message, she thought better of it and rang off. Servicemen were returning in big numbers in 1946. For all she knew, Eileen’s husband had, too, and she didn’t want to interrupt the family as they were trying to get to know each other. The little girl, Calli’s daughter, would now be nearly three, and anyway, if Eileen had wanted contact with her, she would have been in touch before now.
Daisy had an address for Edith, though there was no knowing if it was current, but she sent an invitation, just in case. As for the others, she had lost touch with them. In those final dying weeks and months of their WAAF days they had wavered from longing to get out and not believing it would actually happen, and then it had, with a swiftness that took them by surprise. Still, she wished she’d taken Pearl’s address, it would have been nice to have some old mates with her. Even Dotty wouldn’t be there, she was still overseas, and there was no one else to invite, no family or friends that weren’t already Peter’s friends.
On the day before the wedding Peter had presented her with a gift. It would be her ‘something new’, he said, a necklace, earring and bracelet set of small linked daisies, each with a yellow diamond at the centre, with white diamond petals.
‘It’s beautiful!’ she said breathlessly. ‘But it gives me a problem, Peter.’
‘You’ve got one already!’ he cried, slapping his head theatrically.
‘Almost,’ she said. ‘The thing is, Peter, that Mar has set her heart on me wearing the ones I wore when you and I first met. They’re family pieces, she had always expected that Dotty would wear them on her wedding day, then Dotty ruined that notion. Mar just assumed I’d wear them instead and I’d feel terrible if I let her down.’
‘So, you’d rather let me down?’ he said sternly.
‘Peter!’
He put his arms around her and laughed. ‘I’m joking, you silly woman,’ he chuckled into her hair. ‘Of course you mustn’t disappoint Mar. If she hadn’t told me I had to look out for you at Nuffield’s party, I wouldn’t have gone. I have a lot to thank her for.’
‘I have more,’ she said softly, ‘much more. And listen to me – Daisy Sheridan worried about which set of diamonds to wear!’ She thought for a moment. ‘I know what my “something new” will be,’ she said triumphantly. ‘My two step-daughters.’
‘They’ll be your new daughters, surely?’ he asked, sounding slightly hurt.
‘Men,’ Daisy smiled, ‘you know nothing! Weren’t you listening at our party? They’ll always be Elizabeth’s daughters, she’ll always be there as far as they’re concerned, and quite right too. I don’t intend ever trying to replace her.’
Peter didn’t say anything, but his arms tightened around her in reply.
Daisy walked down the aisle on Par’s arm to where Peter waited with Laura and Libby, her br
idesmaids. The bride wore a gown she had made herself as Mar watched, fascinated, making frequent loud exclamations of praise for her skills. When it was finished it had a sweetheart neckline, cap sleeves, a fitted bodice that emphasised her small waist, and a very full floor-length skirt, a gown made for her hourglass shape. She had come a long way from the girl who desperately hid from male attention. Now she was happy to show off her figure in a gown that drew gasps, even though Mar had pre-warned everyone by loudly predicting that she would ‘knock ‘em dead!’
A few months later, French designer Christian Dior brought out what became known as The New Look and was attacked and worshipped in equal measure for his lavish use of material, but Daisy had got there first. All women who had lived through the austerity of the war now wanted a bit of glamour and felt they had earned it, even if their clothing coupons stopped them having it. Daisy was no exception, but she did have all the material she needed, so she had created her own bit of glamour in a style that suited her. When Dior’s creations were unveiled, Daisy smugly noted that they needed boning, the modern equivalent of a light corset, to achieve the desired effect, whereas she hadn’t needed any such help.
In her hair she wore a band of lily of the valley and carried a small matching bouquet. Mar’s family jewels were her ‘something borrowed’ and ‘something blue’ was the cushion-shaped sapphire between the two brilliant diamonds of her engagement ring.
‘So where’s the “something old”?’ Peter whispered at the altar.
‘Oh, I’ve had that for a while now,’ she smiled, nudging him with her elbow. ‘You!’
He smiled widely throughout the service and Daisy was too enchanted by what was happening to be overcome. Then, to complete the day, as they left the church she saw Edith waving at her.
The day had been perfect, or nearly perfect. If only Kathleen had lived to see her married to this lovely man, and Joan Johnstone, and maybe even Kay, though she doubted if her sister would have fully understood what was happening. And there was Eileen. She missed her good friend Eileen, the only really close female friend she had ever had, the only one who had ever truly known her.
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