Getting out of the car, Dave explained why he was here. ‘It’s not a valuable scarf, I hasten to say,’ he added with some embarrassment. ‘But you know what women are. Sentimental value and all that.’
‘Of course!’ In the dim light, Carter stared at him. ‘I remember you now.’ He quickly stubbed out the cigarette he’d been smoking. ‘Nasty habit,’ he apologised. ‘I can’t seem to give them up. Not allowed to smoke in the restaurant, of course, so it’s a case of sneaking out here when the fancy takes.’
‘You found the scarf then?’
‘Yes. Blue silk with frayed edges, wasn’t it?’
‘That’s the one.’
As Daisy got out of the car, Dave took her coat from the back seat. ‘Better put this on, sweetheart.’ He handed it to her. ‘Don’t want you catching cold.’
Reluctantly, Daisy put the coat over her shoulders. ‘I don’t catch cold,’ she said, popping the drawing into her pocket. ‘I’ve got a good constitution.’
A wide smile crinkled Dave’s handsome features. ‘A good constitution, eh?’ he laughed. ‘And who told you that?’
‘Miss Ledell.’
‘I see. Well, just in case she’s wrong, put your coat on.’
Daisy did as she was told. When the drawing fell to the ground, she swiftly retrieved it.
‘You can leave that in the car,’ he told her. ‘No need to carry it about with you.’
Daisy hadn’t forgotten Ida’s face peering at her through the car window. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I want to carry it.’
‘You’re as stubborn as your mother,’ Dave chuckled. ‘Come on then. Let’s get the scarf and head back home.’
Carter led them towards the restaurant.
‘My wife’s had that scarf a long time,’ Dave explained. ‘I offered her a new one, but she said she’d rather have her old one back.’
‘Women are like that. Sentimental creatures, bless their hearts.’ As he swung open the door, the tapping grew louder.
Dave couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer. ‘Why aren’t you open for business?’
‘We had a fire.’ The waiter gestured for them to keep walking. ‘Started in the boiler room. Thankfully it didn’t get beyond the kitchens, but it’s caused enough damage to shut us for at least a month.’ He gestured to his overalls. ‘Some of us can’t afford to be out of work for that length of time. A few have managed to get temporary work elsewhere, and others, like myself, have been given the chance to earn a wage here. We help out where we can – cleaning, scrubbing, scraping off the damaged paintwork ready for the skilled men to make a start. It saves the boss a bit of money and helps us into the bargain.’
Daisy’s attention was elsewhere. ‘Look, Daddy, a kitten!’ Brushing round her ankles was the tiniest grey kitten.
The waiter shooed it away. ‘Damned things,’ he snarled. ‘The mother was a stray Mrs Fellowes picked up. She let it stay in the shed at the back of their house and now the damned thing’s had umpteen kittens. They all creep in here at every opportunity, looking for scraps. The boss is angry and rightly so. If the health authorities find out, we could be in real trouble.’ He almost leaped out of his skin when a familiar voice addressed him from behind.
‘It’s you who’ll be in trouble if you don’t get back to your work.’
Startled, both men swung round. ‘Oh, Mr Fellowes. I didn’t hear you come in.’
Larry Fellowes was in a foul mood. First he’d woken to find his wife had gone out, and now here was one of his workers passing the time of day with a complete stranger when he should have been on his knees scrubbing the floor. ‘What are you hanging about here for?’ he demanded. ‘I don’t pay you to chit-chat with strangers.’
Carter hurriedly explained, ‘This gentleman’s come back for the scarf. Remember? You told me to put it aside. You were so sure he’d be back for it.’
Larry looked more closely at the visitor, only vaguely aware of the girl by his side. ‘Ah, yes. Mr Walters, if I remember rightly.’ A devious smile reshaped his peeved features. He prided himself on never forgetting a name, and in this particular instance he had not forgotten the face either. This was the young man who had brought her back. He had always known the lure of this place would be too strong for him to resist. ‘I’m glad you came back,’ he said sweetly. ‘I knew you would.’
‘In that case, you knew more than I did.’ Dave felt sorry for the waiter who had gone scurrying away and was now scraping damaged paint from the walls. ‘If I had my way, the scarf could stay here for ever,’ he went on, ‘but my wife is very fond of it, so here I am, doing my good husband bit.’ He stretched out his arms as if surrendering.
‘We’d better get it then. Thankfully the scarf was put into my office. The fire never reached there.’ He began walking.
Dave made small talk. ‘I understand the kitchen was badly damaged.’
‘Gutted, I’m afraid.’ Gratified that Dave had returned, just as he’d predicted, he began to feel benevolent. ‘Perhaps you’d like to see.’ Before Dave could answer, he veered away from the office and headed for the kitchen.
‘Stay close, sweetheart.’ Dave glanced at his daughter, who was lagging behind.
‘No need to worry,’ Larry assured him. ‘Anything loose or dangerous has already been stripped away.’
‘Can’t I stay here and play with the kitten?’ Daisy wasn’t interested in kitchens and dirty walls.
Larry’s mood darkened. ‘Don’t tell me that kitten’s in here again.’
‘It’s only a baby,’ Daisy pleaded. ‘I won’t let it do anything naughty.’
Wanting to keep Dave here a while longer, Larry patronised her. ‘All right, my dear, but we mustn’t encourage it.’
Left to her own devices, Daisy threw off her coat and sat cross-legged on the ground, the kitten playing happily round her feet. ‘We don’t want to see the kitchen, do we?’ she asked, stroking its soft, silky fur. ‘You want me to stay here and play, don’t you?’ Holding out her drawing, she showed it to the inquisitive little creature. ‘Look,’ she said. ‘It’s mine. I painted it all by myself.’ Shame suffused her. ‘Well, Miss Ledell did help a little bit. She mixed the paint and told me what I should draw.’ A bright smile lit her face. ‘She said it was one of the loveliest drawings she had ever seen.’
The kitten rolled about, tapping playfully at Daisy’s foot. Then, with surprising agility, it did a somersault and ran off. ‘Hey! You come back when I’m talking to you.’
Keeping the kitten in sight, Daisy went after it; she saw it disappear into the foyer and then it was gone. ‘Where are you?’ Tiptoeing about, she looked in every nook and cranny. It was nowhere to be seen. She was disappointed but not disheartened. Wondering if somehow it had found its way outside, she opened the front door when, out of nowhere, the kitten dashed through her legs, running off into the night. ‘You naughty thing!’ Taking up the chase, she followed it across the lawn and down the path to the house. ‘Don’t run away,’ she called out. ‘I’ll take you home with me if Daddy says it’s all right.’
She followed the kitten round the back of the house where it jumped on to a window ledge beside the back door and sat looking down on her. ‘Don’t you want to come home with me?’ Daisy asked. ‘That nasty man doesn’t want you, but I do. If you’re good, I’m sure Daddy will let me take you home.’
Reaching up to retrieve it, she cried out with dismay when the kitten evaded her and squeezed through the open window. There was a soft thud as it landed on the other side.
Undeterred, Daisy knocked on the door. ‘Hello?’ she called out, hoping someone would hear. ‘My name’s Daisy. Is it all right to get the kitten, please?’
There was no answer but she could hear the kitten scratching about inside. ‘You silly thing,’ she said. ‘You’ve got in and now you can’t get out, can you?’
Knowing her father would scold her but desperate to rescue the kitten, she tried the door. It opened at a touch.
Some way down
the passage she could see a light. In the doorway she saw the kitten, scrabbling at the carpet. ‘Come on, kitten.’ She crept forward, afraid that at any minute she might be found and chased out. ‘We shouldn’t be in here,’ she said, reaching down to snatch it up. ‘You’ll get us both in trouble.’
She almost had it safely in her grasp when the kitten leaped into the air, shot across the hallway and straight up the flight of stairs. At the top it sat on its haunches, leisurely washing its face.
Having come this far without detection, Daisy grew bolder. She went up the stairs and followed the kitten along the landing. The landing was wide and spacious, with thick, dark carpet underfoot and panelled doors on every side. The light shining up from the hallway below gave some comfort from the gloom, as did the softer shaft of light emanating from the bedroom at the end of the landing.
The kitten led Daisy into the room. Here it jumped up on to the bed. ‘Oh!’ Daisy stopped, her troubled gaze falling on the sleeping figure in the bed. ‘I have to go,’ she whispered fearfully. ‘You’d better come with me, before the man wakes up.’
When the kitten merely stretched out, unable to believe its good fortune, Daisy was in a dilemma. It had been wrong to come into the house, and now it was wrong to stay. But she did so want to take the kitten home with her. ‘Please,’ she murmured, her frightened gaze shifting to the man’s sleeping face. ‘We’ll get into terrible trouble if we don’t go now.’
Slowly she crept across the room, her heart in her mouth as she came close to the bed, arms out, hoping against hope that the kitten would not run away. ‘I won’t hurt you,’ she whispered, ‘I’m your friend.’
She was picking the kitten up when the old man opened his eyes. Aware that someone was beside his bed, he slowly turned his head towards her, his tired eyes struggling to focus.
‘I’m sorry, Mr…’ Frightened, Daisy stepped back a pace. ‘It was the kitten, you see. I came to get the kitten.’
He looked at her for an age, his eyes pinning her there.
‘We have to go now,’ she said tremulously. ‘I’m sorry we woke you.’
Slowly, he shook his head, every move an agony. His gaze roved her face. After a while he saw the dress; the crimson red dress that had been specially made for Daisy’s birthday. He seemed startled, his whole face opening with astonishment.
Daisy wanted to go but she felt obliged to stay. He was such an old man, so sad looking. ‘Do you want me to stay with you?’ she asked boldly. ‘I will if you like.’ Now that she had the kitten safe in her arms, she didn’t feel quite so frightened. ‘But I can’t stay long,’ she apologised.
The old man’s eyes were fixed on the dress. When he made unintelligible noises, Daisy realised he was trying to say something. He was so obviously taken by her dress, she stepped forward a pace and did a little twirl for him. ‘It was a birthday present,’ she said proudly. ‘Miss Ledell made it for me. I’m like the girl in the picture now.’ She held out the drawing. ‘See?’ When he grew agitated and tried to snatch the drawing, she stepped away. ‘No! You can’t have it,’ she said sternly. ‘It’s mine.’
As she pointed out the young woman in the drawing, she didn’t realise how affected the old man was. She didn’t see the tears that rolled down his face, nor the way he grasped and tore at the blankets. She only saw what she had drawn in all innocence: a young woman, strolling through the woods, the sun in her hair and the light of happiness in her face. Pointing to the bunch of bluebells in the girl’s arms, Daisy said, ‘She’s been collecting wild flowers. And look, by the oak tree, do you see? There’s a long shadow.’ Fired with enthusiasm, she held the drawing closer. ‘There’s someone waiting for her. But we can’t see who it is.’
When at that moment the old man smiled into her eyes, immense joy softening his face, Daisy was momentarily humbled. Then she announced confidently, ‘I expect we’ll see who it is the next time I draw a picture.’
The old man stared at the drawing, his eyes raking over it, again and again, seeing but not daring to believe. He tried to reach out but fell back, his old bones weakened by the long, crippling years.
Daisy understood. ‘You can touch it if you like, but you can’t have it.’ She held the drawing closer, waiting while, with much effort, he raised a gnarled old hand. With immense tenderness he let the tips of his fingers come to rest on the young woman in the drawing. For what seemed an age he traced her face, his old fingers trembling as they outlined every line, every dear, familiar feature. And, as he gazed on that lovely, wonderful face, he could hardly bear the emotions that swept through him.
At first Daisy wasn’t sure where the sound came from. It began as a thin wall and then became increasingly stronger, as though something from a long way off was coming closer. Only when she looked at the old man did she realise it was him. He put both hands over his face and rocked from side to side, the strange, pitiful cries pushing through his fingers, echoing from the walls. Terrified, Daisy backed away. The kitten clawed at her, drawing blood, desperate to be free, and Daisy had to let it go.
Suddenly she was swept aside, a woman’s voice, shrill and ugly, yelling at her, ‘Get out! Get away from him! My husband will skin you alive when he gets back!’
When she saw it was the old woman who had peered through the car window, Daisy fled.
Careering down the stairs, she stumbled out of the house, straight into Dave’s arms. ‘Whoa! It’s all right, sweetheart.’ Anger marbled his voice. ‘Where’ve you been? You had me worried sick.’ Larry Fellowes had helped him search for Daisy but when they heard the old man’s cries, they had gone straight to the house. Sweeping Daisy up, he looked at the open door. ‘What were you doing in there? Who’s that crying?’
‘It’s my father,’ Larry answered quietly. ‘He’s very old, been ill for many years. I’ll see to him. You get off.’
As they travelled home, Daisy confessed how she’d followed the kitten into the house. ‘The old man was very sad,’ she said. ‘He was all alone in the house, and then the woman came in…’ Her voice shook. ‘That… woman…’ She fell silent.
‘What woman, sweetheart?’
‘The one who stood in the road.’
He jerked his head round. ‘Good God! The one who stared through the window at you?’
‘She said I was to get out, get away from him.’
‘She must be the old man’s wife, Larry Fellowes’ mother.’
‘No.’
‘What do you mean, no?’
‘She said her husband was on his way back and he’d skin me alive.’
‘Larry Fellowes, eh?’ He took a deep breath. ‘They seem a strange couple and no mistake. But you did wrong, my girl! You had no right to go into that house. Anything could have happened! You’re never to do anything like that again, do you hear me, young lady?’
‘Do you think the kitten will be all right?’
‘I asked if you heard me!’
‘Yes, Daddy.’
‘Well then?’
‘I won’t do it again.’
They drove in silence. At the junction, Dave noticed that the street lamp was out. As he began to pull out, a car appeared from nowhere. Slamming on his brakes, he waited. At first the car had seemed to be going at some speed, but in fact it was only idling along. By the time it was close enough for him to realise this, it was too close for him to dive out. ‘Come on! Come on!’ He wanted to get home.
Peering in the mirror, he looked at Daisy. She was curled up on the back seat but her eyes were open. ‘Thought you were tired.’
‘I am.’
‘Are you going to sleep?’
‘Don’t know now.’
He cursed when he saw the car still hadn’t passed. ‘Some old dodderer,’ he grumbled. ‘Shouldn’t be on the road.’ All the same, he had to chuckle. ‘I expect I’ll be an old dodderer myself one day, God willing.’ The alternative was less attractive.
Eyes closed and starting to doze, Daisy didn’t hear the door open. When the you
ng woman climbed in beside her, she was amazed, too shocked to cry out. ‘Don’t be frightened,’ the young woman said. ‘I mean you no harm. Besides, I can’t stay if you don’t want me to.’
Daisy stared at the visitor. Pulling out her drawing, she examined the face there. Shocked and thrilled, she stared again at the visitor. ‘It’s you!’ she whispered. ‘You’re the same.’
The visitor nodded. ‘Will you let me stay?’ she murmured. ‘I can’t stay unless you invite me.’
Daisy nodded. ‘You can stay if you want to.’
Moving off at last, Dave called over his shoulder, ‘Did you say something?’
Daisy leaned forward, eyes shining, her voice shrill with excitement. ‘Daddy! Look! It’s the lady in my drawing.’
He peered through the mirror, seeing only Daisy and the drawing in her hand. ‘I thought you wanted to sleep.’
‘I can’t sleep now.’ Turning, she smiled shyly at the visitor.
‘Is your seatbelt done up?’
‘Yes.’
‘We’ll soon be home now.’
Daisy settled back and studied the visitor. She was exactly like the girl in her drawing: slim and lovely, with long, flowing dark hair and soft, expressive eyes; her face was heart-shaped, with a wide brow and small, chiselled chin. Though the dark eyes smiled at Daisy, there was no happiness in the smile. ‘Where do you live?’ Daisy ached with curiosity.
‘Everywhere.’ The smile was mystical. ‘And nowhere.’
‘Do you want my daddy to take you home?’
The smile was soft as gossamer. ‘Yes, Daisy. If he can.’
Daisy was taken aback. ‘How do you know my name?’
‘Because I’m a friend.’
‘Are you Miss Ledell’s friend too?’
Surprise flickered. ‘What a strange thing for you to ask.’
There was something about the stranger that made Daisy think of Miss Ledell. ‘Do you know everything?’
‘Not everything.’
‘Miss Ledell helped me to make this drawing.’
Dave could hear Daisy muttering. Smiling into the mirror he asked, ‘Are you talking to yourself, or did you ask me something?’
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