by Carol Rivers
‘Give me a hug,’ said Grandma as Daisy hobbled into the house. Whilst in the smothering arms of her grandmother, she was relieved to spot a huge crusty brown pie in its baking tin perched on the top of the black-leaded stove.
‘Come here, my boy,’ said Grandma, pulling Bobby close. ‘You are growing into a fine young man.’
‘Now, off you go, up to your room,’ shooed Aunt Pat. ‘While I make your supper.’
Daisy followed Bobby from the kitchen, making her way through the dark, musty-smelling hall to the stairs remembering that no matter where you stepped, each stair creaked. Daisy thought of the three floors above which were never used, not since Grandpa had died. Grandma had refused to move into a smaller property and nothing would change her mind.
When they were younger, Daisy recalled how she and Bobby had decided the creaking old building was haunted. One expedition had led them up to the top floors that were not connected to electricity and remained in permanent gloom. But they hadn’t stayed long to investigate; the darkened, dusty rooms with their worm-eaten furniture and shuttered windows proved far too frightening for imaginative young children.
The door of their room screeched as it always did when Bobby opened it. A deluge of lavender and mothball hit them full force.
‘I’d forgotten how funny this place smells,’ said Daisy, lumping her case on one of the two single beds. Each bed had a fancy pink pillowcase and frilly floral cover.
‘I don’t like sharing,’ said Bobby disdainfully.
‘We used to share, remember?’
‘We were just kids then,’ said Bobby in his grown-up voice.
‘My heel is really sore.’ Daisy rolled down her sock. ‘The blister’s going to pop.’
Bobby threw himself on the nearest bed while Daisy lowered her case to the other. She snapped open the two brass locks and took out Aunt Betty’s brush and comb set. The pretty birds and blossoms painted on the handles reminded Daisy of home. She arranged them on the doily of the old-fashioned dressing table. ‘There’s room here for your things too.’
Bobby yawned. ‘No thanks.’
Daisy sat down with her back to the wall. She could smell the damp plaster of the ceiling reminding her of the times they had come to visit in the past. There was a broken pane in the window just as there always had been. On the other side of the room a hole had appeared in the wainscoting. A small pile of sawdust had accumulated.
‘Come on, let’s hang our coats in the wardrobe and go downstairs for tea,’ Bobby said, jumping up.
Daisy pulled off her coat and joined Bobby at the wardrobe, a huge dark brown polished monstrosity. Bobby tugged at the door. It suddenly flew open.
Daisy screamed as a small brown animal shot out. ‘A rat!’ she cried running to the bed and jumping on top.
Bobby watched it scoot away. ‘It was just a tiny mouse, that’s all.’ He looked at Daisy cowering on the bed and began to laugh. Soon he was laughing so much, the tears streamed out of his eyes.
Daisy began to laugh too. Fancy her being scared of such a tiny creature!
Chapter 24
Daisy was woken at the crack of dawn, or so it seemed, as Aunt Pat shouted up the stairs, ‘Rise and shine, lazybones!’
They scrambled into their clothes and hurried to the outside closet in the pouring rain, for the weather was on the turn. A dank, poo-smelling mist was swirling around the house.
Breakfast consisted of two thickly carved slices of bread laden with dripping. The strongly brewed tea was poured into mugs and more toast offered with sticky homemade jam.
‘Grandma is a fiend for thrift,’ Aunt Pat confided as she sawed off a slice of cooked rabbit for the casserole. ‘We were raised to be careful. Waste not, want not. Second nature to the Taylor girls.’
‘I wouldn’t mind porridge,’ Daisy ventured.
‘Winter’s not on us yet,’ Grandma decided. ‘We’ll make the most of summer’s crop first.’
After breakfast Daisy showed Grandma her heel.
‘Looks nasty, I’ll put some iodine on it.’
‘Will it hurt?’
‘Not at all,’ said Grandma, but the pain of the disinfectant made Daisy’s eyes water. ‘Once the air gets to your heel, you’ll soon mend. Don’t put your shoes on or the wound will get worse.’
Daisy spent the day with one sock on and one off. She wandered around, trying not to feel like a prisoner. At least Bobby could go outside and amuse himself.
Grandma gave her a few jobs to do and Aunt Pat brought out the Mahjong. But time passed so slowly that it was quite a relief when the next day came.
’Another letter,’ called Aunt Pat as she came rushing in to the kitchen. ‘It’s from your father.’
Daisy and Bobby jumped up. ‘What does he say?’
‘I’m afraid they have to postpone their visit as they’re driving Matt to cadet training, in Lincolnshire.’
‘Where’s Lincolnshire?’ Daisy asked.
‘Up north.’ Grandma bustled in with a tray. ‘A heck of a long way.’
‘Is Amelia going too?’
‘Doesn’t say.’ Aunt Pat handed round the mugs of cocoa. ‘But seeing as they’re engaged I wouldn’t be surprised.’
Daisy sat down with her hot drink. Their parents weren’t coming after all. The long days of autumn in Wattcombe stretched ahead.
‘Cheer up, you two. You’ll be starting school soon,’ said Aunt Pat.
Daisy’s head shot up. ‘Will we?’
‘I earmarked a place for you. Spoke to the Head, myself.’
‘But we’re going home in November!’ exclaimed Daisy.
Grandma said nothing and Aunt Pat made scarce of herself.
Daisy glanced at Bobby. He looked as miserable. Not only had they not said goodbye to Matt, but Pops and Mother weren’t coming. Not even a hint of when they might visit.
We’ve been abandoned, Daisy decided.
Forever.
It was a cold and bitter day in October when Daisy and Bobby made their way to Wattcombe Primary. Daisy shivered under her winter coat and woolly hat which Aunt Pat had produced from a drawer of mothballs. Her blister had all but disappeared, but had been revived by the galoshes she’d worn to muck out at Mr Webber’s farm.
Daisy giggled. ‘Now the cows will have to clean up.’
Bobby laughed. ‘I’d like to see that.’
‘I quite liked the farm,’ Daisy added as an afterthought. ‘Mrs Webber made us hot scones. And the cow’s milk is the best I’ve ever tasted. Not like powdered milk that we get at home.’
‘Cows are quite friendly,’ Bobby said with a grin. ‘Though they never do as they’re told.’
They were still discussing the farm when they arrived at school, only to find the playground filled with bedraggled children of all shapes and sizes.
’Welcome to our school for evacuees,’ shouted a tall, elderly man. ‘I am Mr Keen, your headmaster.’ Daisy wondered if Miss Bailey would approve of his crumpled grey handkerchief and drip on the end of his nose.
Waving a sheaf of papers, he began to call out names. ’The two Purbright children? Where are you?’
Daisy and Bobby put up their hands.
‘Daisy, you will be in Class Two, Bobby in Class Four. Please school, make sure you bring your outside shoes with you, as well as plimsoles. Packed lunches too, since the school no longer has catering facilities.’
‘I hope we’ve still got Mr Pine and Mr Fraser as our teachers,’ Daisy said as she and Bobby made their way inside.
‘Sit where you can find a space,’ said the teacher of Class Two who bore no resemblance at all to Mr Pine, a young man who loved to take the children on nature rambles. Mrs Gardiner was white-haired and stood with the aid of a walking stick. ‘Daisy Purbright?’
Daisy stood up.
‘You are the oldest pupil. It’s up to you to monitor the class.’
Daisy looked around at the very young children, some of them clutching battered teddy bears, or dolls. ’Plea
se Mrs Gardiner, what do I have to do?’
Mrs Gardiner sank with a heavy sigh on the chair behind the desk. ‘You look like an intelligent child. Start with reading to the children and then go on to numbers. The books are on the shelf there.’
Daisy could not believe her instructions. Was she to teach the children?
‘I want to wee,’ said a timid voice behind her.
Daisy looked round at the little girl.
‘Too late,’ muttered Mrs Gardiner. ‘There’s a mop in the cupboard. Clean up the mess immediately.’
Chapter 25
‘I have to look after babies,’ Daisy complained to Aunt Pat and Grandma that evening as they ate supper. ‘Some of them can’t even count to five.’
‘Poor souls,’ said Grandma sadly.
‘None of our old friends are there. The children are all evacuees from different places.’
‘Like you, my dear,’ said Grandma, dolling out the mash potatoes.
’Mrs Gardiner is very old. Older than you, Grandma.’
‘Well, that’s a comfort. There’s hope for me yet,’ smiled Grandma.
Daisy found her complaints, unlike at home, fell on deaf ears. Bobby, she discovered, had his own problems. He was almost the youngest in a group of older, rougher boys. His teacher was not Mr Fraser but a Mr Musgrave who relied heavily on a faulty hearing aid and spectacles with very thick lenses, one clear and one opaque.
‘It’s not a proper school,’ Daisy decided that night as they lay in their beds. ‘I wish we had Mr Pine back.’
‘War changes everything,’ Bobby agreed. ‘As we’ve found out.’
‘I wonder what Matt’s up to?’
‘He’s having a much more exciting time, flying planes and shooting down enemy aircraft.’
Daisy shook her head fiercely. ‘Matt wouldn’t kill anyone.’
’Don’t you know anything?’ Bobby demanded. ‘In war, people get killed. It’s not like you’ve seen at the pictures where everyone gets saved.’
Daisy felt very upset. She had got used to the idea of Matt being in the airforce, and wearing a smart uniform, but not to actually shoot bullets into something or someone. Or worse, the enemy shooting at Matt. ‘Do you think we’ll all be together for Christmas?’ she moped.
‘Aunt Pat and Grandma have never missed coming to London for the holiday,’ Bobby replied. ‘Pops can’t leave us behind.’
Daisy felt better. Perhaps Bobby was right.
‘Can we go out?’ Daisy asked after lunch on Saturday. ‘We’ve cleaned our room and made our beds.’
‘Be careful of the traffic,’warned Aunt Pat. ‘The village can get very busy at weekends.’
‘There’s never any traffic in Wattcombe,’ Daisy giggled. ‘And I don’t want to go to the village.’
‘Neither do I,’ agreed Bobby. ‘Let’s walk to our old house instead.’
Daisy nodded eagerly. ‘I wonder if it’s just the same?’
After half an hour’s trudge down a narrow lane, a large notice came into view.
‘What’s that long word?’ Daisy pointed to the board in the hedgerow with bright red lettering.
’Demolition,’ said Bobby. ‘It means something’s being torn down.’
As they rounded the corner, Daisy gasped. ‘Oh, Bobby, what have they done to our old home?’
The pretty garden that Mother had created, full of roses and flower beds was now overgrown. The old front door and windows were boarded. A blackish shadow crept over the red bricks as though they had been dusted with soot. The smell of burning hung in the air.
They walked slowly round to the kitchen garden and stood with their mouths open. Daisy had planted some of the herbs and vegetables herself; she remembered Mother showing her how to sow the fragile little seeds in tidy rows. Beyond, the chicken coop netting had fallen away and the hens’ house was just a pile of old wood. Now everything had been eaten up by slugs, weeds and waist-high grass. The pretty stone path where Daisy loved to play hop-scotch was covered by slippery green moss. The most shocking thing of all was the vast black hole in the roof which wasn’t an ordinary hole either, but a charred, gaping void into which the thatch had collapsed.
‘There’s been a fire,’ said Bobby.
Daisy felt sad too. ‘Can’t it be mended?’
Bobby shook his head. ‘No. That’s why they’re demolishing it.’
Daisy looked up at her bedroom window, now covered by pieces of board. A torn, burned piece of curtain squeezed out as if trying to escape. ‘I used to see the bats fly against the glass,’ she mumbled. ‘And the swifts used to nest in the eaves.’
‘That’s why Grandma and Aunt Pat didn’t tell us,’ Bobby said firmly. ‘They knew how upset we’d be.’
They stood for a while, staring at the pitiful sight, inhaling the bitter smell of charred wood. Daisy saw that even the pigeons were reluctant to land on the remains of the chimney stack. It was Bobby who turned away, as if unable to bear the scene any longer.
‘Come on, let’s go. Perhaps we’ll watch the parade after all.’
Daisy followed, her heart heavy as they made their way towards the lane. She was deep in thought when she heard a faint rumbling noise. She stopped. ‘What’s that?’
Bobby stood still, listening. He turned and peered up at the sky. ‘Look!’
Daisy followed his gaze. ‘Planes!’ she gasped.
‘Planes,’ Bobby confirmed.
‘There’s so many of them.’ Daisy felt a wave of fear. The throbbing of their engines shook the trees and made the ground tremble beneath her feet. ‘Are they going to drop bombs on us?’
‘Don’t know.’ Bobby grabbed Daisy’s hand and dragged her into the wood. He pulled her through thickets of scratchy bushes until they came to a toppled tree. Together they scrambled underneath its bare, brittle branches. Daisy clapped her hands over her ears and buried her face against the damp ground. Would a bomb fall and kill them?
‘Keep still,’ Bobby shouted as he thew himself on top of her.
Daisy was too terrified to move. Even her skin was shaking. She could feel Bobby’s body protecting her.
Gradually the ear-shattering noise began to subside. ‘Have they gone?’ she whispered as Bobby climbed off her, staring up at the sky.
‘Don’t worry. They were ours after all.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I spotted the round circles on their wings. Spitfires, I think. They were amazing.’
Daisy scrambled beside him. ’Where are they going?’
‘London, perhaps.’
Daisy felt a great miss of home. ‘Pops read from the newspaper every day. We always knew what was going on. Here we don’t know anything.’
Bobby looked at her and grinned. ‘Now I understand why Matt wants to enlist in the airforce. Did you hear them? Did you feel their power? I want to fly too. I’m going to enlist when I’m old enough.’
‘Bobby, don’t say that.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t want you to go away.’ Daisy tried not to cry. It seemed she had been on the brink of tears all day. She forced back her sob. ‘Anyway, you’re only eleven.’
Bobby smiled. ‘Remember that ship you wanted to catch?’
‘I’ve changed my mind.’ Daisy blushed as they walked to the lane. She wished she hadn’t told Bobby about her silly, childish dreams. ‘I just want us all to stay together. And war to go away. And Matt to come home and marry Amelia. And I could look after their babies.’
Bobby burst into laughter.
Daisy sulked a little. She didn’t care for being laughed at. But then again, Bobby had protected her in the wood. He must think a great deal of her even though he sometimes pretended not to. ’Shall we tell Aunt Pat and Grandma that we saw our old house?’
Bobby shook his head. ‘Don’t think so. Don’t want to upset them.’
Daisy smiled at her brother. Even though he was a boy he was really quite nice.
Chapter 26
‘Di
d you see our planes fly over?’ said Aunt Pat that evening as they ate their pie and mash.
Daisy nodded but Bobby looked down at his plate.
‘Britain is gearing up for war,’ continued Aunt Pat. ‘Especially after the terrible news of the Royal Oak.’
Bobby dropped his fork with a clatter. ‘What happened?’
‘It was on the wireless,’ said Grandma, helping Daisy to a second serving of mash. It was mash with every dinner yet Daisy didn’t like to refuse.
’Our greatest battleship was sunk by a torpedo at Scarpa Flow,’ explained Aunt Pat.
‘Where’s Scarpa Flow?’ asked Daisy.
‘Scotland, where that foreign plane was shot down.’
‘What plane?’ demanded Bobby, his jaw falling open even more.
‘A Nazi warplane landed in a Scottish moor.’
‘Did the pilot parachute out?’ Bobby’s eyes were wide with sudden interest.
‘Couldn’t say,’ Aunt Pat shrugged. ‘What about a game of Ludo before bed?’
‘I’m a bit tired.’ fibbed Bobby.
‘That’s not like you.’
‘I was just thinking,’ said Daisy quickly, ‘about Christmas.’
‘Don’t speak with your mouth full, dear.’ Grandma waved her hand.
Daisy swallowed quickly. ‘Christmas is soon, isn’t it?’
‘Not long,’ agreed Aunt Pat. ‘Perhaps we could read the fortune cards tonight. I know you like them, Daisy.’
Daisy wasn’t at all certain she did like the fortune cards. They reminded her of Peter Brady and the Birch and how she might have brought the awful punishment down on his head. Predicting the future wasn’t such a good thing after all. If she’d been told when they moved to London that her old home would become a burned out wreck and had to be torn down, she would have been very unhappy indeed.
‘I’m tired, Aunt Pat,’ she said. ‘I did too much walking.’
Aunt Pat and Grandma glanced at each other. ‘Yes, enough excitement for one day,’ decided Grandma and began to clear the dishes.