by Sylvia Waugh
“Hello,” she said. “Can I help you?”
She was a woman in her sixties with wiry grey hair and a broad, flat-cheeked face. Her eyes were deep-set and very dark. Seated, she looked as if she would be a very big woman – broad-shoulders, large, plump hands. It came as a shock when she stood up and Albert saw that she was the height of a child, no more than four-foot six. As she came to meet him, her stumpy legs swung stiffly from the hip in a manner that looked painful. She was wearing a dark blue dress that reached nearly to her ankles, thick stockings, and a pair of heavy brown brogues.
“I don’t know whether you can help or not,” said Albert, looking worried. “I have some property to dispose of. It’s very complicated.”
“Well, come in and sit down,” said the woman. “I’m not one for standing about, as you can see.”
She smiled. Her expression was both friendly and confident. No one, but no one, would ever have to feel sorry for Daisy Maughan. In that instant, Albert knew that this woman was strong, reliable and almost heaven-sent. She looked like one who could solve problems.
“Well, Miss Waggons,” he began.
Daisy laughed.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been called that. But it’s not my name. I’m Daisy Maughan. But everybody calls me Daisy.”
“So who are L and P Waggons?” asked Albert.
“Haven’t the faintest idea,” said Daisy. “My dad took over this shop seventy years ago. The owners before that were called Hirschman, and before that, way back in the last century, it was the Jacksons. But I have my own theory.”
“Yes?” said Albert.
Daisy stood up again, taking the stick this time to make walking easier. She went to the front window. Albert followed. Daisy pointed to the wooden betty doll seated at the sewing machine.
“She’s been here since long before my time. I call her Lily Waggons. And her over there,” she added pointing with her stick to the other doll, “she’s Polly Waggons.”
Albert smiled and they went back to the octagonal table again.
“I think of them as family,” said Daisy. “I do get lonely at times, especially since my sister Ada died. You should have seen Ada. She was such a tall woman, and thin as a reed.”
“I’m sorry . . .” Albert began.
“No need for pity,” said Daisy. “The secret is to accept everything. Loneliness is in some ways a privilege. Making the best of it is what counts. Saying good morning to Lily Waggons as I dust her sewing machine. Having a word with Polly about her typewriter.”
“They’re not for sale, I take it,” said Albert.
“I should think not,” said Daisy. “They were here when I was born. They’ll be here when I die.”
“Then what?” said Albert.
Daisy laughed again.
“I’m good for a few years yet,” she said. “Before my time comes I’ll find someone to take them over. I owe it to them. Now, let’s get down to business. Or would you like a cup of tea first?”
“Business will be fine,” said Albert. “We can have tea some other time.”
Albert told Daisy all about the clothes and the furniture at Number 5 Brocklehurst Grove. She was a good listener. He ended up telling her everything, even the story of Kate’s People and the doll-room.
“I’d like to see this house,” said Daisy when he paused. “I’m sure we’ll be able to sort something out. When would you like me to come?”
“When would you be able to manage? I could probably come and take you there,” said Albert. “I’ve just brought my car in for a service, but I should have it back on Monday.”
“No need,” said Daisy. “I’m quite happy coming by taxi. It’s my one luxury. I go everywhere by taxi. Here in the morning, home at night. I even have a regular driver who fetches me most days, if he’s at work.”
“You don’t live here then?” said Albert.
“Haven’t lived here for forty-odd years,” said Daisy. “I was born in the flat upstairs, but that’s just a warren of stockrooms now. We thought about letting it but that would have been more bother than it was worth. And, when all came to all, Dad found the space useful for storage. The business was much bigger in his day. Mine is smaller, but more selective.”
She smiled as she remembered all the bric-a-brac and downright rubbish that had once filled most of the flat upstairs. It was a very large flat, on two floors, but it had suffered years of neglect.
“It was my mother that insisted on moving,” she went on. “There were no mod cons, absolutely none. The lavatory was outside in the yard. We used to bathe in a zinc bath and the water had to be heated in the fire boiler. Still, I do miss it sometimes at night. I used to love looking out of my window and seeing the lights on the river. I’d be there long after Mother thought I was fast asleep.”
She paused a moment to dwell on times gone by. Then she said briskly, “So when do I come?”
“The sooner the better,” said Albert.
“Wednesday afternoon do?” said Daisy. “I’m closed on Wednesday from twelve o’clock.”
“That’ll be fine,” said Albert. He too was ‘closed on Wednesday from twelve o’clock’. It was a nice gap in his timetable. “Lorna and I will be waiting for you.”
As he left, he looked once more at the wooden betty dolls. They were not as lifelike, or as finely made, as the rag dolls awaiting him at Brocklehurst Grove. But they were obviously loved.
CHAPTER 27
Daisy
“YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE told her everything,” said Lorna. “She’s a total stranger. What will she think of us?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Albert. “She’s a little old woman, very plump, very plain and slightly crippled. But I am telling you now, Lorna, there is something special about her. Don’t ask me what it is. I don’t know. But you’ll see what I mean when you meet her.”
Lorna looked at her watch. It was half-past one. She and Albert were sitting by the window in the sitting-room at Number 5 Brocklehurst Grove waiting for Daisy’s taxi to arrive. Their clipboards lay on the table, lists all neatly completed.
A few minutes later a car drew up in the street. The driver got out, went to the passenger door, helped Daisy out onto the pavement and escorted her through the front gate.
“You’ll be all right now?” he said, making sure she was firm on her feet with her stout stick supporting her.
“Yes, Mike,” she said. “I can manage from here, thanks. I’ll give you a ring when I’m ready to go home. I don’t expect I’ll be more than an hour.”
She walked up the path to the front door. She didn’t need to knock. By the time she got there the door was already open and Albert and Lorna were waiting to take her inside.
“This is Lorna,” said Albert, “Jennifer’s daughter.”
“And your wife,” said Daisy with a smile. “I’m pleased to meet you, dear. I hope I can be of some help.”
Lorna perceived something of the magic Albert had been trying to explain. It was as if an inner Daisy shone out, a Daisy who was inferior to no one. Here was a woman who could take control and make everything come right. There was no reason for believing this other than the look in her eye and the warmth in her voice.
“Where do you want me to start?” she said, coming straight to the point in a very reassuring way.
“I thought we could do a tour of the whole house, room by room, looking in all the cupboards as we go,” said Lorna. “We have already listed the contents of each room, so that should make it easier.”
“Unless you have some other ideas?” said Albert hastily.
“Not really,” said Daisy, “but, if you don’t mind, I would like to do the top floor first. That will get the going upstairs bit over with before I feel too tired. You two go on ahead of me. I’ll follow nice and slowly.”
“Are you sure?” said Lorna. “Perhaps we could give you a hand.”
“No,” said Daisy. “I can cope with all my disabilities. I’ve accepted my limi
tations and learnt to live with them. That is a kind of happiness. Now go along up those stairs. I’ll see you when I get there!”
She was almost laughing at herself as if being slow were some sort of a good joke.
Albert led the way up the stairs and Lorna followed. They walked quite slowly and were careful to include their visitor in their conversation.
“My mother wants rid of the carpets too,” said Lorna over her shoulder. “I think she’s carrying it all rather too far, but she is adamant.”
“That’s all right,” said Daisy. “The carpets will be no problem.”
When they reached the top landing, Albert went first into the big front bedroom where the uniform and all the other glories still hung in the wardrobe. Lorna was carrying the clipboards. She found the right sheet, read down the list and checked off each item. Daisy kept nodding thoughtfully and saying “mhmm” and “uhuu” under her breath. That room finished, they came out onto the landing. The room facing them was clearly labelled DOLL-ROOM.
“That one next,” said Daisy. “I’m looking forward to seeing those dolls.”
They went in. Daisy went round the room and looked at each doll in turn. It was like royalty visiting the sick. She patted Joshua on the shoulder. She lingered over Pilbeam. She picked up Wimpey’s doll and placed it in her arms. Poopie’s rabbit was, mistakenly, passed over for the nanny to hold in her arms with the baby. She paused a moment longer in front of Miss Quigley.
“Yes,” she said. “This has to be the nanny. See how professional she looks!
“And these,” she said, as she inspected Sir Magnus with his white moustache and nodded her approval of Tulip’s prim little mouth, “must be the grandparents.”
When she came to Appleby, lying so peacefully in her bed, she smiled.
“It’s a tableau,” she said. “Here is the sick daughter near to death, and all the family is gathered round to pray for her recovery.”
Albert and Lorna watched from the doorway. They were well aware that Daisy was not really speaking to them, just voicing her thoughts out loud, the way people who live alone are apt to do.
“She’s nice,” said Lorna quietly, hearing the affection in Daisy’s voice.
“I know,” said Albert. “And she’s clever. You can see it in her eyes. If anybody can help us, she can.”
Daisy, her inspection complete, looked towards the doorway.
“I’ll take them,” she said. “All of them.”
This instant commitment startled Albert and Lorna. They had expected a tour of the house to be followed by a frank discussion of what Daisy could hope to achieve in helping to clear it. They had not expected her to be so definite about anything, least of all the dolls.
“I don’t know whether you can,” said Lorna, feeling very much at sea. “We don’t want to sell them. And we don’t want anybody else to sell them. Albert did explain to you, didn’t he?”
“He explained,” said Daisy.
“We need someone with plenty of space to . . . to take care of them,” said Lorna. “They are very, very special. But they aren’t ever to be for sale. It’s a hard condition to meet.”
Daisy, tired of standing, sat down on the foot of Appleby’s bed. Lorna, following suit, sat in the chair that Soobie had left vacant.
“I know all of that,” said Daisy. Her hand strayed to Appleby’s and she took it in hers. “If you will permit me, I shall give them a home. I shall do as their maker requested. I will love them.”
She looked round the room at all the dolls, her dolls, and gave them all the warmest of smiles, and still she held on to Appleby’s hand. To love Kate’s People would be so easy and so joyful.
Lorna and Albert watched her, sitting there with her outdoor coat buttoned up to the chin, a dark green coat with a little velvet collar and a golden lizard brooch in the lapel. She had not even removed the felt hat that was held on with a large hatpin. Yet there was no incongruity, no lack of dignity. Daisy Maughan could never be other than dignified. Her height, her years, and her lack of beauty were irrelevant.
“We don’t need to look at anything else just now,” she said. “This changes everything. I think we’d better go downstairs and talk business.”
Daisy talking business was another revelation. She knew exactly what she was talking about. She knew how to dispose of everything and how to get the best prices for the goods entrusted to her. Best of all, she knew precisely what she wanted to do with the dolls.
“It will take time,” she said, “but I shall work a transformation.”
Lorna looked startled. It was an odd word to use!
“Don’t you worry,” said Daisy. “Leave it all to me.”
Lorna began to feel nervous. Daisy was moving too fast. Lorna wanted to slow things down, to have time to think it out. She gripped the blue clipboard.
“Strictly speaking,” she said, “everything in this house is my mother’s. I think I would have to ask her first.”
Daisy gave her a shrewd look.
“I won’t rob you, my dear,” she said. “You’ll get a fair price for anything I decide to keep, and a proper price, minus commission, for whatever I sell. It will all be written down.”
Lorna blushed. She was too young yet to know that one can entertain angels unawares. But she was learning.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to imply that I doubt you. It’s just that I feel responsible. I want to do things properly. You do see that, don’t you?”
Albert, whose heart would always rule his head, said simply, “We’ll let Daisy see to everything. She knows what she’s about.”
By the time the taxi took their visitor away, all the necessary decisions had been made.
CHAPTER 28
Settling Up
IN THE MONTHS that followed, Albert popped in to see Daisy a few times, and sat with her sociably over a cup of tea in the little kitchen behind the showroom.
“All of the china’s gone,” said Daisy on his first visit, “and the clocks. I can prepare an account for them and make a payment today. It won’t take me a minute.”
“No,” said Albert. “There’s no need. We’ll wait till the whole house is cleared completely and then you can pay over whatever is due. But, remember, Jennifer wants nothing for the dolls, just to know that they’ll have a good home. And that’s what Lorna wants too. They hardly ever agree on anything, but they’re in total agreement about that.”
Daisy nodded and said, “Well, when it is finished, I’ll let them be the judge of whether the dolls have a good home or not. For now, ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.”
“You wouldn’t anyway,” said Albert.
“No,” said Daisy with a laugh. “I wouldn’t. People say daft things, don’t they?”
But from then on, Albert waited to be told whatever Daisy chose to tell him.
“I think you’d better not sell the curtains yet,” she said. “Jennifer can have them taken down when she is ready to move in. I think it’s safer to leave the place looking lived in. No curtains is a real giveaway.”
Finally, at the beginning of May, Daisy said, “I think it’s about time your wife and your mother-in-law paid me a visit. After next Tuesday, the house in Brocklehurst Grove will be completely empty, right to the floorboards. If all goes according to plan, I can settle up and hand back the keys.”
“Magnificent,” said Albert. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
He did not ask about the dolls. He knew that Daisy would tell all when she was good and ready!
And so it was that one fine Wednesday afternoon in May, Albert and Lorna drove down to North Shore Road. Leaving the car in a side street, they walked down a short steep slope, turned right, and there, a few yards along the road, was Daisy’s shop. The sign on the shop door said CLOSED, but that was for customers, not for friends.
Lorna had never visited the shop, though she had heard all about it.
“Come in,” said Daisy, opening the
rattly shop door. “Come in and welcome.”
She led them to the octagonal table which, for the occasion, had been cleared of filing boxes and was now covered with a white lace-bordered cloth. In the centre, there was a silver teapot on a matching stand. A tiered cake dish was filled with scones and cream cakes, and either side of it was a large plate full of triangular sandwiches.
“There,” said Daisy. “Before we talk business, let’s have tea.”
The table was set for four.
“Where’s your mother?” said Daisy, looking at Lorna. “I was looking forward to meeting her.”
“I did pass on your invitation,” said Albert hastily, “but Jennifer . . .”
“Jennifer is Jennifer,” Lorna interrupted. “Sometimes she shuts things out. All she wants to know about the whole business is that Aunt Kate’s dying wish has been respected. Apart from that, she doesn’t want to see or hear of the dolls, or anything else that was left behind, ever again. She wants to go to Number 5 Brocklehurst Grove and find it empty.”
“Does she believe in ghosts?” said Daisy as she poured tea into each cup. “Is she superstitious? It’s surprising how many people are.”
“I don’t think it’s as simple as that,” said Lorna. She was about to try to explain, but Daisy stopped her. She smiled, held out a plate to Lorna and said, “Come on then. Eat these sandwiches. That’s what they were made for!”
After tea, Lorna and Albert cleared the table, then carefully folded the white cloth, whilst Daisy got out the invoices for all the items she had sold, or purchased for her own use, from the house in Brocklehurst Grove. It was a very orderly file, containing all of Lorna’s original lists, ticked and cross-referenced so that everything could be easily traced.
“Following your instructions, I haven’t paid you for the dolls,” said Daisy when they had all sat down again at the octagonal table, “but I have entered a payment for the clothes they were wearing. If, after seeing my efforts, you should wish to dispose of the dolls in some other way, we won’t exactly be back to square one, but I will have to make different arrangements.”