by Dilly Court
‘Will you?’
Daisy flexed her work-worn fingers as they gripped the steering wheel. ‘I really don’t have the time or the wherewithal to get me to the places where they hold their meetings or demonstrations. Father refuses to have a telephone installed at home and I’ve lost touch with the suffragists I knew in London.’ She shot him an amused glance. ‘Except for Ruby, of course, but she works terribly hard at home. Mother has to admit, reluctantly because she doesn’t really like her, that Ruby lives up to her name and is a treasure beyond price. She cleans the house from top to bottom and no one can beat her when it comes to doing the weekly wash.’
‘Does this paragon of virtue cook as well?’
‘No. That’s a bit beyond Ruby’s capabilities so I’ve taken over in the kitchen. Mother would kill me for admitting it to you, as she considers that it’s a terrible comedown, but I enjoy cooking and I find I’m rather good at it. At least, I haven’t poisoned anyone yet.’
‘Maybe one day you’ll allow me to sample your cuisine?’
She drew the car to a halt at the side of the road. ‘We don’t entertain any more. Mother might have some of her church-going ladies to tea occasionally, but that’s as far as it goes. We have to be careful with money, Rupert. It’s not like the old days.’
His brow puckered in a frown. ‘I don’t like to think of you living like this, Daisy. You were meant for better things.’
‘Don’t. You sound just like my mother.’ She opened the car door. ‘You’d better take over now, but thanks for the lesson. I’ll have to wait ages for my next one.’
He reached across to take her hand in his. ‘Marry me, Daisy. Let me give you the life you deserve.’ He studied her palm, tracing the lines with his fingertips. ‘You were brought up to a life of ease. You’re a lady, not a drudge. Marry me and you can drive the Prince Henry every day of the week if you want.’
She stared at him in amazement. She had thought for a moment that he was joking, but looking into his eyes she realised with a shock that he was sincere. Fighting down a momentary feeling of panic, she chose her words carefully. ‘That’s very sweet of you, Rupert. But feeling sorry for me isn’t the same as loving me. I couldn’t marry you or any man unless we were both very much in love.’
‘But you do care for me, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do, but you’re just being kind and heroic, and I think the image you have of me is romantic and quite unreal.’ She withdrew her hand gently and climbed out of the car. ‘Thank you for asking me. It was really lovely.’ She hesitated, gazing at him anxiously. ‘Is the offer of tea and cake still on?’
He slid into the driving seat. ‘Actually I’ve rather gone off the idea. Would you mind awfully if I dropped you at home? We’ll do the afternoon tea thing on my next leave.’
‘No, of course not. And I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, Rupert. I really appreciate what you were trying to do.’
‘No, you’re right, Daisy. It was a silly idea, especially as I haven’t the faintest idea where I’ll be this time next year.’
They drove home in silence, with Rupert concentrating doggedly on the road ahead and Daisy seated beside him, wondering how such a bright sunny day could suddenly seem so bleak and foreboding. Their goodbye in the road outside Rainbow’s End was stiff and formal. She watched him drive off with a lump in her throat. They had seen so little of each other in the past year, but on each occasion they had picked up where they left off. Now it felt as though their childhood friendship had ended and things would never be quite the same again. She stood outside the garden gate, gazing at the dwelling which had once been the family’s holiday retreat from the hurly-burly of London life, but was now their one and only home.
The former dower house snoozed in the late afternoon sunshine like an elderly lady napping in a deckchair. Roses clambered up the mellow red-brick walls and festooned the portico over the front door. Some of the roof tiles were missing, and two of the chimney stacks leaned precariously as if bowing to each other. She hesitated with her hand on the gate, taking pleasure in the riot of colour in the herbaceous borders. Hollyhocks, larkspur and the old-fashioned granny’s bonnets gave off a heady perfume, and glorious oriental poppies spilled their pink, white and scarlet petals like confetti on the crazy paving path. Bees buzzed in the spice-scented lavender and birds sang, but it was winter in Daisy’s heart as she let herself in and made her way slowly round to the back of the house. She felt a terrible sense of loss but she knew that she had done the right thing. To marry Rupert simply as an escape from the life she was compelled to lead would have ended in disaster for them both.
She did not enter the house immediately, choosing instead to walk around the garden. It was quiet and peaceful and she needed a few moments to compose herself before she faced the family. The lawn spread before her like a green blanket, smooth and evenly trimmed, stretching as far as the orchard where apples ripened in the summer sun. Soon it would be time to pick them and the blackberries that festooned the hedgerows. This year Daisy intended to make jam and to experiment with chutney using the tomatoes and onions that she had cultivated in the vegetable patch. Her father had bought chickens and a rooster and they resided in the ancient hen house at the bottom of the garden. It was a ramshackle affair, patched and nailed together in a haphazard manner, but it kept them safe from the marauding foxes. They were pecking about in the run, but soon she must lock them up for the night and collect any eggs that Bea had missed that morning.
Daisy sighed, pushing thoughts of Rupert to the back of her mind and stifling a niggling feeling of regret. She could have taken the easy way out, she thought, as she walked back to the house, but that would not have been fair on either of them. Besides which, she had responsibilities now. She was no longer a lady of leisure, planning her day around social engagements. Dinner would not appear on the table as if by magic as it had in the old days. There were vegetables to prepare and lamb cutlets to cook. Her father and Teddy would be most upset if there was not a hearty pudding on the menu. She must hurry if she was to get everything done by seven o’clock when the family assembled in the oak-beamed dining room for their evening meal. She entered the house through the scullery door and was pounced upon by Ruby.
‘Where’ve you been all afternoon, miss? Your ma’s been fretting and fuming because you was supposed to make a plate of fancies for her blooming stall at the church bazaar on Saturday.’
‘It’s only Thursday. She ought to realise by now that my baking day is Friday.’
Ruby sniffed and wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Your ma lives in a different world from the rest of us, miss.’ She picked up a bucket of kitchen scraps. ‘Shall I go and feed the chickens? That’s one job less for you.’
‘Thank you, Ruby. You are a jewel by name and a jewel by nature.’
‘Ta, miss. Flattery always works with me.’
‘I meant it,’ Daisy said earnestly. ‘And please don’t call me miss. No one thinks of you as a servant. You’re part of the family.’
‘I’m as much a Lennox as the clock on the wall, but it don’t bother me one bit. I know I’m priceless.’ Ruby gave her a saucy wink, picked up the bucket and went outside with it looped over her arm.
Daisy went through the scullery to the large airy kitchen, which overlooked the back yard and the garden beyond. The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the diamond-paned windows, warming the quarry-tiled floor to wine red. She took off her hat and hung it on a peg behind the door, next to the bell board once used to summon the servants. She smiled grimly. How times had changed. She plucked a pinafore from its hook and put it on, rolling up her sleeves to begin preparations for dinner.
She had just finished peeling the potatoes when the bell labelled Drawing room jangled on its spring. She ignored it at first but the insistent ringing set her teeth on edge and she threw down the knife and marched out of the kitchen and along a narrow corridor to the square entrance hall. She entered the room to find her mother sitting on the
sofa with an aggrieved expression on her face.
‘Mother, please don’t ring the bell. I’m not a servant.’
‘Where’s the wretched girl? You should have sent her to find out what I wanted.’
‘Ruby has gone outside to feed the hens. Where is Bea, by the way? Couldn’t you have asked her to do whatever it is you want? She does precious little round here.’
‘Don’t speak to me in that tone of voice, young lady. We may be living like paupers but I’m still your mother.’
‘I’m sorry, Mother. But I am rather busy. What can I do for you?’
‘Have you forgotten the fancies for the bazaar on Saturday?’
‘They’ll be ready on time.’
‘And why didn’t you ask Rupert in for tea? I saw him drop you off outside the gate.’
‘He had things to do, Mother.’
‘You told me that you were going to the library.’
‘I bumped into Rupert in town and he offered me a lift home.’ The lie tripped off her tongue so easily that she did not even feel guilty. Surely she was entitled to a life of her own? And yet, looking at her mother’s set expression, she knew that having a daughter who was almost twenty-two and not engaged to be married was even worse than having a suffragette in the family. In a few years’ time she would be officially on the shelf, like a jar of last year’s jam that had gone mouldy, but in the meantime she was expected to behave like the perfect daughter: biddable, and compliant, never questioning her lot. ‘What was it you wanted, Mother?’
‘A little civility wouldn’t go amiss. You’ve become quite surly since we moved to the country. It’s far harder for me. I’ve had to leave my dear friends and live like a peasant, but all you’ve left behind are those wretched women who led you into mischief.’ She glared at Daisy, looking her up and down with her lips pursed. ‘You look and dress like a washerwoman. Is it a wonder that Rupert doesn’t want to have anything to do with you?’
‘I’ve got work to do.’ Daisy turned on her heel and was about to leave the room when Gwendoline called her back.
‘All I wanted was a cup of tea and perhaps a biscuit or two. I can’t exist on the meagre diet we are forced to endure these days. I have a delicate constitution.’
‘Then I’ll make a pot of tea, Mother. You only had to ask.’ Daisy could not keep the edge out of her voice, and she knew if she stayed a moment longer she would snap and say something she might regret. She loved her mother but there were times when her patience was stretched to the limit by her autocratic parent’s demands. She left the room, relieving her feelings just a little by allowing the door to slam behind her.
She returned to the kitchen, wondering if she had done the right thing by refusing Rupert’s proposal. The last thing she had wanted was to hurt him, but had she accepted his offer of marriage she would have joined the legions of women who married for security and were forced to depend on their husbands for everything. Even as the idea came into her head it was rejected. One day, she thought, I will find my own level. I’ll make something of my life and if I do decide to marry, it will be for love.
She set about making tea for her mother but she could not face another nagging session, and in her present state of mind she might still say something she regretted. When Ruby returned from seeing to the chickens Daisy sent her in with the tray.
Dinner was prepared and being kept warm in the oven. Daisy glanced at the clock, wondering why her father and Teddy were so late. On a normal day they arrived at six-thirty on the dot. Father lived his life by the clock and detested unpunctuality. Every morning at eight o’clock precisely he and Teddy drove off in the Humberette, which kept breaking down with monotonous regularity, but perhaps that was not surprising as he had bought it second hand at a knock-down price. It was ten minutes to seven, and she was beginning to think that something was really wrong when Bea came running into the kitchen, flushed and breathless. ‘There’s been an accident,’ she said excitedly. ‘I was looking out of my bedroom window, wondering why they hadn’t come home yet because I’m absolutely ravenous, and I saw the car swerve into the hedge. Father was driving and now he’s just sitting there, doing nothing.’
‘Where’s Teddy?’
‘He went racing down the road. I think he must have been going for help.’
Daisy peeled off her pinafore. ‘Is Father hurt?’ she asked anxiously.
‘I don’t know. He was holding his head. Perhaps he banged it on the steering wheel. They hit the bank quite hard.’
Daisy hurried through the house and out into the front garden with Beatrice following close behind. The Humberette was slewed across the road and steam was pouring from the radiator. With a cry of horror, Daisy ran to the car and wrenched the door open. She helped her father from the driver’s seat. His face was deathly pale and there was a livid bruise forming on his forehead.
‘Are you all right, Father?’
He shook his head, wincing. ‘It’s just a bump, but I need to sit down.’
‘Let’s get you indoors.’
‘I can’t leave the car here. It’s blocking the road.’
He seemed dazed and disorientated. His hands were trembling, and Daisy was afraid that he might be slightly concussed. She turned to Bea. ‘Take Father into the house. I’ll send for the doctor.’
‘No doctor,’ Victor said emphatically. ‘Can’t afford to pay a quack just to tell me I’ve got a lump on my head the size of an egg. Teddy’s gone for the mechanic. Just stay by the car, Daisy. I’ve always said that blind bend was dangerous.’ He looped his arm over Beatrice’s shoulders. ‘I need a tot of brandy, that’s all.’
Beatrice nodded. ‘Yes, Father. Let’s go indoors and I’ll pour you a very large glass of Armagnac.’
‘Not too large,’ Daisy said, frowning. ‘He should sit down and have a cup of sweet tea. Don’t worry about the car. I’ll keep watch until Teddy brings help.’ She waited until they were out of sight and was about to lift the bonnet when she heard the sound of running feet and someone shouting.
‘Stop. Don’t do that. You’ll scald yourself.’
Startled by the urgent tone of his voice she moved aside and was joined by Bowman, the odd-job man and mechanic who had fixed the car and delivered it back to the house after previous breakdowns. ‘I was only going to look.’
‘And you’d have had a nasty accident. You should leave this sort of thing to them that knows what they’re doing, miss.’ Bowman took a rag from the pocket of his grease-stained overalls and proceeded to fling the bonnet open. He stood back as a cloud of steam escaped into the atmosphere. ‘I’d say the radiator’s cracked. The motor must’ve hit the bank at some speed. Were you driving?’
‘No, I was not.’ Insulted, Daisy glared at him. ‘If I’d been driving I wouldn’t have swerved into the hedge.’
His dark eyes twinkled and his lips twitched. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Lennox.’
Somewhat unnerved by his direct gaze, Daisy looked away. ‘My father was driving.’
‘Swerved to miss a fox.’ Teddy came to a halt at Daisy’s side, breathless and panting. ‘Damn thing leapt out of the hedge in front of us. I’d have run the blighter over.’
‘That would be a bit hard on the fox. I hope he got away.’ Bowman leaned over the engine, wiping oil away with the rag.
‘Bloody thing disappeared into the hedge again,’ Teddy said crossly. ‘I’d have shot it if I’d had a gun. Anyway, never mind the fox. What about the motor? Can you fix it here and now?’
Bowman shook his head. ‘It’ll need a tow to my workshop. I can’t do a thing without the proper tools.’
Teddy took off his boater and wiped his brow on the back of his hand. ‘Dashed annoying. How long do you think it will take?’
‘Can’t say. I’ll probably have to order spare parts from the manufacturers, and that can take time.’
‘Damn.’ Teddy frowned. ‘We need the motor to get us to the office every day.’
‘I could lend you a tandem, sir.
Had one in for repair and the owner couldn’t afford to pay.’
Daisy stared at him suspiciously. Bowman was obviously being sarcastic but Teddy, seemingly oblivious to that fact, appeared to take his throwaway remark seriously. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said crossly. ‘My father wouldn’t be seen dead on a bicycle. He’s a stockbroker of some repute.’
‘So I heard, sir.’
There was a wealth of meaning in Bowman’s voice and Daisy felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment. Ruby, who often chose to linger in the village post office and chat to the locals, had told her ages ago that their move to Nutley Green had given the gossips a field day. They knew all about the family’s misfortunes and of her involvement with the suffragettes and subsequent arrest, but what right had this common workman to judge her family based on nothing more than idle tittle-tattle? ‘I’m sure that Lady Pendleton will be able to help us out when it comes to transport, Mr Bowman,’ she said stiffly.
‘I’ll keep the tandem handy just in case, miss.’ He tipped his cap.
She knew that he was laughing at her, and she was instantly ashamed of her rather juvenile attempt to put him in his place, but the wretched fellow seemed impervious to snubs. ‘I hardly think that will be necessary, thank you.’
‘Always ready to oblige a lady, miss.’ Bowman turned to Teddy. ‘Am I right in thinking that you want me to organise a tow? Farmer Hayes sometimes helps out with his shires, if he’s not too busy.’
Teddy shrugged his shoulders. ‘Do what you have to, Bowman. But we need the motor repaired urgently. Do you understand?’ He hesitated, frowning. ‘On second thoughts, I’ll come with you. Hayes might be more helpful if he knows with whom he’s dealing.’
Daisy felt her colour rise. She had found Bowman extremely annoying, but there was no need for Teddy to speak to him in that manner. ‘I’m sure we’d be very grateful for any help you can give us, Mr Bowman,’ she said hastily. ‘Please do whatever is necessary.’ She turned on her heel and walked back to the house.