by Nancy Carson
And on her birthday.
No mention of her birthday.
Daisy fell silent.
She remained silent, brooding again, upset that he had evidently forgotten her birthday after all, that he couldn’t care less.
‘Brussels is a lovely city, you know,’ he commented affably, oblivious to her distress. ‘It’s got a city square that’s surrounded by magnificent architecture. Fifteenth century, I think. Leastwise, it looks like Perpendicular to me – not that I’m an expert. I had some beautiful mussels in some café there, done in garlic. You can’t beat Brussels for mussels.’ He looked at her to see her reaction to his glib little rhyme.
Daisy did not acknowledge it, but looked on expressionlessly at Constitution Hill with its grubby terraced houses and little factories on either side.
‘But Paris is something else,’ he went on, full of enthusiasm. ‘A beautiful city. Oh, the night life there is unbelievable. I went to the Exposition – the World’s Fair. You should see that new tower they’ve just built for it – the Eiffel Tower. You wouldn’t believe it’s possible to build anything so high, especially of iron. It’s a wonder the weight of it doesn’t make it all come crashing down … I was taken to somewhere called the Champs Élysées and some splendid cafés. I saw the girls at the Folies Bergères dance the cancan, I went to Montmartre where all the artists live and work. You enjoy paintings, don’t you? Well, the work of some of those artists is unbelievable. I would have bought a picture for you but the prospect of carrying it back home was daunting to say the least …’
Lawson chattered on with his snippets of information. Daisy said nothing, listening, resentfully gleaning as much as she could about what he had been doing. They were ascending narrow Church Street and had almost reached Top Church before he said, ‘Daisy, I feel as if I’m talking to myself here. You haven’t commented on anything I’ve said. What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing.’
He turned to her again and was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
‘You’re crying. What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing,’ she repeated, more vehemently.
He drew the cabriolet to a halt at the side of the road where it was at its narrowest, outside a small workshop built of red brick and topped with a rusty corrugated iron roof.
‘If there’s nothing the matter,’ he said gently, ‘why are you crying?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ She took a handkerchief from her pocket.
‘Of course it matters. Tell me … What’s wrong?’
‘You,’ she blurted out. ‘You’re what’s wrong.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you.’
‘How? What have I done to upset you?’ There was indignation in his tone, as if he was beyond reproach.
‘Well, if you don’t know …’
‘How can I know? I’m not a bloody mind-reader.’
She sighed, a profound, shuddering sigh. Here was her chance to tell him. Here was the big opportunity to set things straight and try to steer her marriage along the road she had anticipated it might have taken in the first place.
‘Well, first of all, you seem to be more interested in going out at night with your friends than enjoying the company of your new wife,’ she began. ‘You were away from me more than a week and the very day you come back you’re as grumpy as hell, then take off again under some pretext that you are running a book.’
‘And so I was. It’s business, Daisy.’
‘And could you not afford to forego it, just once, to spend time with me? After being away so long? Is it such a chore to spend some time with me?’
‘I think you’re feeling sorry for yourself, Daisy.’
‘Oh, I’m feeling sorry for myself all right. How do you expect me to feel, shut up in your house every night while you go off gallivanting? Does being married preclude me from going out with you at night? You used to be keen enough to take me with you before we were married, I seem to recall.’
‘You don’t enjoy the places I sometimes go to. Look how you hated the cockfighting.’
‘Of course I hated the cockfighting, but I enjoyed the bet you made for me. Winning all that money.’
‘You wouldn’t be getting mercenary, by any chance, would you?’ he asked cuttingly.
‘Me? Mercenary? I think not, Lawson. Emotional, maybe. But never mercenary.’
‘Emotional. Ah! It must be that time of the month. Well, evidently you’re not pregnant, and thank the Lord for that.’
She ignored his unwelcome comment about not wanting her to be pregnant; she could pick up on that later if ever she needed to. To discuss it now would only divert her. ‘It’s nothing to do with the time of the month, Lawson. Have you forgotten what day it is?’
‘Saturday,’ he answered flippantly. ‘So what?’
‘So what?’ she repeated incredulously. ‘I can’t believe you said that. It’s my birthday and you’ve forgotten it. It just shows how much you really think of me.’ She dabbed her eyes and sat defiantly erect in the cabriolet. Well, now she’d told him. His response would be very telling.
‘Oh, now we’re getting to the bottom of it,’ he said, unabashed. ‘Well, as a matter of fact, Daisy, I haven’t forgotten your birthday. I haven’t forgotten it at all. But the gift I ordered for you won’t be ready till next week. I was going to surprise you with it. I ordered it before I went away but there was a query on it. Obviously I couldn’t sort it out until I came home, else you’d have had it today.’
‘You’ve ordered me something? Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I was going to. You don’t really think I’d forget your birthday, do you?’
She gave a shuddering sigh. ‘How was I to know? You haven’t mentioned it. You haven’t wished me many happy returns, you haven’t even given me a greeting card. Why should I have to mention it?’
‘Oh, Daisy … You know how forgetful I am. Forgive me … I tell you what – there’s a florist up here by the church. I’ll buy you the most magnificent bunch of flowers.’
‘I don’t want a bunch of flowers now,’ she pouted. ‘The damage has been done. You could have woken up before me this morning and got some flowers then, ready for when I went downstairs. I would have thought the world of that.’
He took her gloved hand and fondled it. ‘It’s only now I’m coming to realise how sensitive you are, Daisy,’ he said quietly, consolingly. ‘Forgive me. I know I’m often guilty of being thoughtless but, believe me, I do mean well. I love you too much, my sweetheart, to have any intentions at all of hurting you … Will you forgive me?’
‘I forgive you too easily, Lawson. And that means you go and do exactly the same thing again, knowing I’ll let you get away with it. But I won’t. I deserve better. I ask you to be more considerate. I ask you to consider my feelings a bit more often.’
He nodded. ‘I will, I will. I promise … Look, I won’t go out tonight. We’ll have a quiet night all to ourselves. You can cook us one of your beautiful dinners, we’ll open a couple of bottles of that expensive claret I brought back from France and we’ll play cards afterwards and … and we’ll go to bed early. We’ll celebrate your birthday all right, just the two of us … in our own little love nest …’
She smiled up at him, love in her tear-filled eyes. Oh, he could twist her around his little finger, of that she was aware. But she loved him too much to care. At least she had made her point early enough in their marriage. She had made him see. Things could only be better from now on.
Chapter 10
On the Monday morning, Lawson visited the works of J. Preece and Sons in Wolverhampton Street, to order Daisy’s birthday gift. He congratulated himself for having handled her crisis of sensitivity so adroitly, hiding, to his satisfaction, the fact that he had forgotten all about her birthday. He discussed his requirements at length with one of the sons and was shown some fine examples of their work. Eventually, back in their office, he handed over a deposit.
‘So how soon can you del
iver?’ Lawson asked Mr Preece the youngest.
‘In view of that cancelled order I told you about, Mr Maddox, I can let you have it by the end of next week.’
‘Shall we say the Friday morning then?’
‘Let me see …’ Mr Preece consulted a calendar. ‘That’ll be the 31st. I think we can manage that. Would eleven o’clock suit?’
‘It would suit very well. But not a word to my wife as to when I actually placed the order, if you don’t mind.’
‘Naturally.’
Lawson gave the man a knowing wink. ‘I think this will more than make up for her disappointment last Saturday, and keep her off my back for some time to come.’
Mr Preece chuckled, content to connive about womenfolk and the deceiving thereof with such a worldly and well-heeled client. ‘Oh, I’m sure she’ll be entirely happy, Mr Maddox … Now, when may we remit you?’
‘I’ll pay cash on final inspection.’
The weather was set fair and had been for a few days. The hazy sunshine lent a warmth to the air, quite still now after some raucous May winds a week earlier. Unaccountably for a Friday, Lawson had stayed at home, lounging about the house, getting in Daisy’s way.
‘How come you haven’t gone out?’ she asked. ‘You’ve normally disappeared by this time of a Friday morning.’
He pulled out his watch and checked the time. ‘I haven’t got to go out this morning.’
Daisy held a tin of furniture cream in one hand and a duster in the other. ‘Would you move your legs while I polish this table?’
‘You shouldn’t be polishing tables.’
‘Well, I’d like to think that too,’ she said with an ironic little laugh. ‘I really should advertise for a maid.’
‘Had you forgotten?’
‘No. I just haven’t had time. I’ll put an advertisement in the Dudley Herald. I’ll do it on Monday.’
Lawson looked at his watch again, stood up impatiently and went over to the front window. He parted the nets and peered to his left, looking up the hill.
Daisy continued with her chores, dusting the mantelpiece and the frame of her favourite picture. She had finished and was just about to leave the room to work upstairs when Lawson spoke.
‘Quick, take your pinafore off and smooth the creases out of your frock. I don’t want you looking like a maid. We have company.’
‘Company?’
He smiled at her mysteriously. ‘Don’t ask questions. Just do as I say.’
As she took off her pinafore she heard the sound of horses and the rumbling wheels of a carriage at the side of the house where the driveway stood.
‘Who is it?’
He grinned. ‘You’ll see in a minute.’
There was a knock on the front door. Lawson answered it and she heard him greeting somebody.
‘Daisy!’ he called.
She went to him. A man was standing on the doorstep wearing a top hat and a fine tail coat. He looked as if he was from a funeral parlour, except that he was smiling pleasantly.
‘This is Mr Preece, Daisy. He’s delivered your birthday gift. A little belatedly, I know, but better late than never.’
Daisy smiled at the man. ‘Good morning, Mr Preece.’
Mr Preece tipped his hat. ‘And a beautiful morning it is, Mrs Maddox.’
‘So what is this mystery gift I’ve been promised for so long?’ she asked, looking into Lawson’s eyes.
‘I think you’ll find it’s outside, my love,’ Lawson said. ‘Come on. Let me show you.’
Parked on the hill was a smart, two-horse phaeton with another man sitting in the driving seat. He was waiting for Mr Preece, to return him from whence he had come, or so Daisy imagined. Then, as Lawson led her into the drive, she saw a magnificent cream-coloured gig and a palomino horse as beautiful as a fountain sparkling in sunshine. She put her hand to her mouth and gasped.
‘This?’ she queried, incredulous. ‘This gig?’
‘And the mare.’
She stood and looked with open-mouthed disbelief. ‘They match perfectly,’ she said eventually. ‘Oh, Lawson, I can’t believe it … How can I thank you enough? Oh, you’re so generous.’ She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him while Mr Preece self-consciously averted his eyes. ‘But where did you get such a beautiful horse?’ She went to the mare and patted her shoulder experimentally. She had never had much to do with horses until she’d been required to tend Lawson’s while he was away, and was only now beginning to acquire some confidence with them. The beautiful tan-coloured mare gently flicked her head and the creamy mane tousled and fell back into place perfectly. Daisy faced her and stroked her nose and spoke quietly to the animal. ‘Oh, you are beautiful,’ she murmured and the palomino’s ears flickered interestedly. ‘Do you have a lump of sugar, Mr Preece?’
‘Indeed I do, ma’am.’ He felt in his pocket and handed Daisy three lumps.
‘If she’s to be mine, then I must curry favour with her from the outset.’
‘Very wise, ma’am,’ Mr Preece said.
She held her palm up and the horse nuzzled it, taking the sugar. ‘Her mouth is so soft, so gentle.’ Enthusiastically, she turned to Lawson. ‘Oh, I think she and I are going to get along famously … What shall we call her?’
‘You decide.’
‘Oh, I can’t think of anything pretty enough right now … Maybe Blossom … Yes, Blossom. What do you think, Lawson?’
He smiled convivially. ‘Blossom it is.’
‘Let me show you the gig, ma’am,’ Mr Preece suggested.
‘All right.’ She patted the mare again, gave her another lump of sugar and stood at the side of the gig.
‘This is a Stanhope gig, ma’am. Very safe, very stable, something a lady can handle with confidence. As you can see, it has a hood in case of foul weather but, with the summer coming along, let’s hope you won’t need it.’
Daisy turned to Lawson and smiled again contentedly. ‘I’m going to need some tuition on how to handle it, aren’t I?’
‘Yes, your husband has thought of that, Mrs Maddox. Hence, the presence of my brother in the phaeton. He and I will teach you all you need to know.’ He beckoned the other Mr Preece to join them. He obliged and reversed the gig out of the drive and onto the road.
‘You get into the gig using this step,’ the second Mr Preece said, indicating the iron plate that hung suspended from the coachwork. ‘Would you like to try?’
Lifting her skirt a little, Daisy stepped up and took her seat for the first time in her own gig. She giggled like a little girl with a new toy as she admired the immaculate coachwork and the shining, hand-stitched leather seat. Mr Preece handed her the reins and gave her her first instruction on how to communicate her intentions to the horse.
‘Flick the reins and call “Giddup”, Mrs Maddox.’
Daisy did as she was bidden and the mare moved forward obediently.
‘Oh, she’s moving,’ she said with some surprise.
‘Because you told her to, ma’am. That’s all you need do to get her moving. She’s very well trained. To get her to stop, pull firmly on the reins and call “Whoa”.’
‘Whoa!… She is well trained, isn’t she?’
‘A beautiful animal, ma’am. Your husband chose well for you. Now, let’s go for a little ride up the hill and see how you fare.’
‘I’m going to need some tuition on how to harness her as well, Mr Preece.’
He smiled with approval at her enthusiasm. ‘One step at a time, Mrs Maddox.’
That afternoon Lawson also took Daisy out, allowing her to drive, giving her tips on how to handle the rig. Naturally, she was keen to show her new acquisition to her family so they headed finally towards Paradise. The Drakes, even Titus, filed outside to admire the new Stanhope and the beautiful palomino.
‘I think you’m ever so lucky, our Daisy,’ Sarah remarked enviously in an aside, while Lawson chatted to Mary and Titus. ‘You really fell on your feet when you met Lawson.’
‘Ye
s, I suppose I am fortunate,’ Daisy replied. ‘In so many ways …’
‘And my luck’s a-changing, our Daisy,’ Sarah said excitedly. ‘I found work this morning. At Hillman’s in Trindle Road.’
‘You mean the leather works?’
‘Yes. I start Monday.’
‘Well, that’s good. In some ways, it’s better than being in service. You’ll earn more money. And be free to do as you like at nights.’
‘I hope as there’s some nice chaps there,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s time I had a sweetheart.’
‘Sweethearts will appear soon enough, won’t they Lawson?’ Daisy replied.
Lawson made a great show of looking Sarah up and down. ‘Be sure of it.’
‘Don’t be in a rush and take up with any old Tom, Dick or Harry,’ Daisy continued. ‘You’re a good-looking girl. You’ll always be able to take your pick of lads, a girl like you. Just be a bit choosy, like I’ve told you before.’
Daisy was soon handling the Stanhope competently and within only a few days she was confident enough to drive it on her own. As she travelled through the streets of Dudley, passers-by stopped in awe to watch this elegant and beautiful young lady swish past in her cream gig with its sleek, matching horse. Those who were unaware soon learned that this was the recently installed wife of Lawson Maddox, the well-known borough rake, and that she really must have something extra special to commend her if she could captivate such a profligate womaniser, to the extent that he was prepared to lavish extravagant gifts like a horse and trap on her.
On one trip, she visited the offices of the Dudley Herald to insert an advertisement in the Situations Vacant column. Lawson had decided that as well as a maid-of-all-work, they also needed a boy to act as groom – especially now they had two horses to care for – somebody useful who could also turn his hand to gardening; it was certain the lad would never be idle. In their elevated social position they needed servants, and postponing the hiring of suitable staff would reflect badly.
Naturally, on her way home, she called to see her mother and father as she did most days. Daisy stepped off the gig and bid good morning to an elderly man who was digging in one of the allotments opposite. As she tethered the horse, the incongruity of the opulent rig and the row of working-class terraced cottages struck her. But it was the rent from working-class terraced cottages like these that provided the wealth whereby Lawson could afford such luxuries … Well, that and his bookmaking …