Daisy Belle

by Caitlin Davies

  And Hettie said yes, she thought she might, and then off she skipped after the other girls to the changing room.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I pestered Billy to take me back to the Hornsey Baths several times over the following days and he refused. We need to think this through, Daisy, he said. But for the first time in years I had a purpose and for me there was nothing to think through. We had found my child. I so wanted to know what it was like, the home where she lived. Did Hettie have everything she needed? Was there happiness in the house? Was Dob a kind father? Was there a woman she called mother, and did she treat her as her own? But Billy had not been able to find out anything more about Hettie. He could not even establish where Dob lived or worked, or how he’d earned his money once he was no longer my manager.

  I spent every minute thinking how to win her favour. I needed Hettie to trust me more than anyone else. She was a swimmer; I’d seen how she loved the water and how keen she’d been to win. If I offered to coach her, would Mr Millichap allow it? But although I pestered Billy, I understood why he was reluctant to take me straight back to the baths, for if Dob learned of our visit then we would lose her again and no court of law would ever give her back.

  So I spent those days pacing my room as best I could, determined to build up my strength. Billy set me exercises like Father used to do; it was as if I were in training again. My brother had me lifting weights; he fixed pulleys to the ceiling for me to grasp with my hands, and while at first I cursed myself and everyone else I did begin to feel a little stronger in my arms.

  *

  The following Wednesday we returned to the Hornsey Baths for the gala, arriving well before starting time. ‘Let us wait here,’ I told Billy as he fetched my chair from the cab and set it on the pavement opposite the baths. ‘So we’ll see her when she comes.’

  ‘Daisy,’ he leaned down towards me, ‘we can’t. Let’s get inside. What if —’

  Then a cab pulled up near the entrance to the baths, out stepped two gentlemen and, by the time the cab pulled off, a lady and three children were walking down the road towards us. The next thing I knew Billy had hold of my chair and was wheeling me away. ‘I told you,’ he said, ‘we should have come later when the place is full.’ I turned my head to see Hettie standing on the pavement, her hair plaited in pigtails, dressed in a pale blue dress with a sash. Then the lady took her hand and as I watched them go in all I could think was, that child is mine and it should be me taking her by the hand and leading her into the baths.

  *

  The pool was nicely set out for the gala, with coloured bunting hanging from the gallery and a table on a stage laid out with buns and lemonade. The moment I was settled in my place Hettie came running up with a cheery, ‘I’m going to win the race!’ Her pigtails were very neatly done, I thought, and I wondered if the woman she might call mother had tied them. Had it hurt a little as she divided Hettie’s hair with a comb, telling her to keep still as she jerked her head, or did she have a gentle touch? How very black Hettie’s eyes were, how beautiful the shape of her nose, how wonderful the way she smelled so faintly of soap. But oh, how it hurt to realise how little I knew about my own child, to have missed all those years when she was growing up. I knew nothing about what she liked or feared, how she slept or what she loved to eat.

  ‘Are you racing against them?’ asked Billy as a group of girls came marching in with club badges on their costumes.

  ‘Yes,’ said Hettie, ‘and I’m going to win. Pa says a winner can have a lot of money.’

  ‘Does he?’ I asked, and I bit my lip. This was why he had taken her. Dob would want to make money from Hettie’s skills just as he had with mine.

  The audience began to make their way to their places and I saw Hettie looking up at the gallery. ‘My Ma is here today,’ she said with evident pride.

  ‘And your father?’

  ‘No. Pa is away.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said with relief. ‘That is a shame.’ So it was all right, I thought, we were safe for now, we could stay. ‘Where is he?’ I asked, but Hettie was distracted by a young soldier making his way past, hopping on a crutch.

  ‘That man doesn’t have a leg,’ she said.

  ‘No, he doesn’t.’

  ‘So he couldn’t swim.’

  ‘Oh yes he could,’ said Billy, ‘whatever a person’s body, they can swim. I once knew a man called Captain Camp, he had one leg and he was a wonderful swimmer. Saved many lives too.’

  ‘Pa has rescued lots of people,’ said Hettie, moving to stand in front of me; her head just level with mine.

  ‘Has he really?’

  ‘Yes, don’t you believe me? When he was in America he rescued a lady in the sea and a shark bit him on the thumb!’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘what a lucky lady. So, are you all ready to race?’

  ‘She most certainly is.’ I looked up to see a well-built woman with auburn hair, her eyebrows so pale it was as if she had none. There was a pinkness about her eyelids that made me think of a mouse, but there was nothing mouse-like in her manner; she stood very tall with her chest held out and one hand clasped behind her back. ‘I’m Bessie Hope.’ She bowed slightly. ‘I’m the new instructor.’

  I looked at her in surprise; what had happened to Mr Millichap? I was a little jealous, at the idea that a woman would be teaching Hettie now. I didn’t want my child to like her too much – and what if Miss Hope didn’t realise Hettie’s potential, if she had no idea of the right way to instruct? I had decided I would ask Mr Millichap if I could coach the girls, but what if now I were not even allowed to watch?

  ‘I understand you saw Hettie last week,’ said Miss Hope. ‘She shows grand promise.’

  I nodded. ‘Indeed she does.’

  ‘And can I ask—’ Miss Hope brought her hand round to her front and I saw she was holding some picture postcards. ‘If it’s not a bother?’

  ‘What are those?’ asked Hettie.

  Miss Hope selected a card and showed it to her, a handsome man in a one-piece bathing suit, his arms folded across his naked chest.

  ‘Who is he?’ Hettie giggled. Perhaps it was his white stockings.

  ‘Captain Webb,’ said Miss Hope, ‘surely you’ve heard of him?’ Then she showed another postcard, a strong young woman standing high up on a board with a hoop in one hand.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asked Hettie.

  ‘Don’t you know?’ laughed Miss Hope. ‘This is her, right in front of you.’ Then she turned to me. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I heard you’d be presenting the prizes. I saw you when I was just a girl. We came all the way from Glasgow. I will never forget that for the rest of my life. You were my inspiration. I was a Scottish long-distance champion, and now I’m teaching the next generation.’

  I smiled at Miss Hope, grateful that Hettie was to be trained by someone as skilled as she. Then I looked at the picture thoughtfully, admiring my younger self. ‘I was an ornamental swimmer then,’ I said.

  ‘An ornament?’ asked Hettie.

  ‘No,’ I laughed, ‘not exactly. I saw a woman once when I was young like you and she had a hoop and I copied her. Miss Mane from Brighton, she was my inspiration.’

  ‘Why did you have a hoop?’

  ‘Ah, the hoop,’ I smiled, ‘that was Father’s idea. I used to swim through it and turn somersaults too. He was a very clever man, my father, because whenever there was something new, he’d be the one to find it.’

  ‘Might I ask you to sign?’ asked Miss Hope and she handed me a pen; and carefully, as if I’d almost forgotten how to spell it, I wrote my name on the front of the card.

  Then it was time for everyone to get ready and Miss Hope asked if I would like to accompany the girls to the dressing room. After they had changed and lined up to be inspected, she gave them all a pep talk, saying to try their best but to remember that while winning was important, being a good sport was paramount. She was just explaining the order of the races when there was a commotion at the door and a voi
ce asking ‘Hettie? Is Hettie here?’ and in came a woman followed by a little girl and boy. My heart started beating so loudly I thought all the girls could hear it, for here she was, only a yard away from me, the lady whom Hettie must call her mother. She and the two children looked like peas in a pod, with blue eyes and thin pale faces, and I wondered what Hettie made of this, that she was so clearly the odd one out. I found myself assessing the lady critically, looking for something to dislike, from her narrow cheeks to her long skirt and the way her shoes click-clicked across the floor.

  ‘Hettie,’ she said. ‘I can’t stay. Your sister doesn’t feel well.’

  I looked at the girl standing by her side; she seemed the picture of health to me.

  ‘Please Ma,’ begged Hettie, ‘you promised you’d watch.’

  ‘Your daughter will swim a very good race, I’m sure,’ said Miss Hope. ‘She has talent.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know where she gets that from,’ said the lady, her eyes flicking briefly towards my chair and then away again.

  ‘Please Ma,’ begged Hettie once more.

  The lady sighed in a put-upon way. ‘Oh for goodness’ sake Hettie, it’s not as if you’re going to win.’

  I was so horrified at this that I looked down and studied the floor, not wanting to see Hettie’s reaction. But when I glanced up her face was not tearful as I’d expected but flushed with anger, and her little hands hanging at her sides were curled into fists.

  ‘Don’t forget to dry your hair properly afterwards,’ said the lady, ‘and wait for me here.’

  *

  A little while later we returned to the pool and as Hettie took her place with the youngest girls I saw her glance up to the gallery in a hopeful fashion. I knew what she was doing, wanting to believe that her mother had changed her mind and stayed to watch. How eager she was for her attention, I thought, and how unlikely she was to get it. I could see that Hettie was not the favourite child and I wondered what Dob had said to make the lady take her in. I felt so sorry for Hettie then, that she wanted to perform in front of someone who could not care less. Her distress hurt as if it was my own and I longed to make everything right.

  Then the gun fired and Hettie dived in to swim. She didn’t look up, she took no notice of the others; instead I could see that anger was spurring her on. So she passed the girl who lacked confidence, and then the stout girl, and then the girls from the other club as well. And all the time Miss Hope was on the poolside, her voice rising higher and higher as she rushed along the bath urging her pupil on. When Hettie reached the end, a yard ahead of all the other girls, I was the first to clap. I was so proud when it came time to present the prizes, to know that when they called Hettie’s name it was I who would give her the medal. Up she came to where I sat by the table, next to Miss Hope on the stage, the audience clapping as she bowed her head, and as I placed the medal on a ribbon around her neck I was absolutely certain that this would be one of many. But I also knew that this wouldn’t do; I had been lucky that Hettie’s mother hadn’t stayed to see the races, to hear my name announced and then return home to tell Dob. Perhaps he already knew. Hettie had said he was away, but perhaps she had told him. I had to get my child away from the baths. We needed somewhere more private and there was just one place that came to mind.

  ‘Hettie,’ I said, gesturing her back, aware that the other girls were lined up behind her waiting their turn for a medal. ‘How would you like it if you were to swim somewhere else and not at a bath?’

  ‘In the sea?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘No, not yet. I was thinking of a different place all together. I was thinking of a pond.’

  ‘A pond?’ she laughed.

  ‘Yes, a lovely cool pond with ducks and fish.’

  ‘Really?’ Hettie looked delighted. ‘I can swim in a pond?’

  ‘If you like,’ I said, although I had no idea if this was true. But after I had given out the remaining prizes and the audience was leaving I asked Miss Hope if I could have a word. ‘I would like to help you coach the girls,’ I told her. ‘Especially Hettie.’

  Miss Hope beamed. ‘I was hoping you might say that.’

  ‘I think it would be good for her to gain experience with open water…’

  ‘Yes, you’re absolutely right.’

  ‘Perhaps we might go to the bathing pond on Hampstead Heath?’

  I half-expected Miss Hope to ridicule the idea but instead she said she knew the pond well and there were ladies’ hours on a Thursday. It was an excellent plan and she would bring the girls there herself.

  Billy thought I was mad. How was he going to get me onto Hampstead Heath, had I any idea how difficult that would be? But most of all, why on earth did I want to go back to the pond? It was hard to explain myself. I told him it would be a safe place for us and he cried, ‘Safe! You nearly died at that pond.’ But that was Dob’s fault, I reminded him, and mine for agreeing to wear the crown. Didn’t he want to see his niece learn to love to swim outdoors? Where else could she do this in London, if not the pond? Perhaps then she could swim with Percy, I suggested, just like we had swum together as children. Hettie was a born swimmer; he could see that. He had found my child; he must understand that I had to see her again and that it couldn’t be at the baths. By the time we got home Billy knew there was no more use objecting. We would go to the pond.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The very next Thursday, just before ladies’ hours, my brother took me to Hampstead Heath. It was quite early still, few people were out but for men arriving for work at the fairground site, and there was a feeling of pleasure to come, the promise of rides and coconuts. How gentle the pond looked that day, as Billy pushed me down to the causeway and towards the water, how pretty the golden elder on the banks with their creamy-white flowers. The trees had grown more mature since last I’d been here, but there ahead of me was the very same diving platform. I felt a little shiver, remembering how determined I had been as I’d climbed up its steps ready to risk everything for one single dive.

  We turned along the path, following the wooden fence that lined the lane, and I sensed that the day would lift; it would soon be warm. The boatman was waiting for us by the gate, leaning on his boat hook, and for a second I thought it was the very same one and I wanted to clasp his hands and thank him for saving my life. But it wasn’t him at all; instead he had a shock of white hair like Father Christmas. My brother greeted him and they shook hands; he was a friend of a friend and that was how we’d been allowed to come just before ladies’ hours.

  Billy parked my chair by the boatman’s hut, overlooking the grassy bank where a dozen men lounged, smoking and chatting. One stood up, walked to the jetty and dived in. It was several minutes before he came up but then I saw him swimming on his back, both arms held up in the air, sending ripples over the pond like a plough across a field. I too wanted to strip off and plunge into that water, its surface dancing with midges and scattered with tiny white feathers and summer leaves. I caught a sudden flash of turquoise as a kingfisher flew into the air but as I turned to point it out to Billy the bird had gone.

  At the far end of the pond a man was floating on his back, his stomach like unbaked bread in the air, while a group of boys were shouting and ducking each other under. It had been a long time since I’d seen men swim and it struck me that people become children in the water; it didn’t matter whether they were lords or rat catchers because in the pond they were equal. I watched the bathers with a bittersweet feeling. I too wanted to see the bottom of things, the roots of trees, the grass on the banks, the wet underbelly of logs, to feel the water as smooth as ink and the smell of bracken as I broke the surface.

  Then I heard the sound of childish laughter and the squeak of the gate and Hettie arrived. Miss Hope led the way holding two girls by the hands, half a dozen following after, like a goose with her goslings.

  Billy told the girls to change in the hut and as the door squealed open I could see the air inside floating with fluff as if
someone were blowing dandelion seeds. I heard a creak and a sigh as if the hut were talking to itself and I could picture myself on the day of my dive when I’d lost the letter from Johnnie Heaven. How worried I’d been, not knowing where it had gone, but I’d also been looking to the future. What had happened that day had nearly ruined my life, yet by bringing Hettie here perhaps I could look forward again.

  She was the first to emerge from the hut, all ready in her costume, and gazing in wonder at the pond. ‘A duck!’ she said, ‘I can see a duck!’ and she was so excited that it looked as if she were about to rush straight down the bank.

  ‘No ladies in the water until ten o’clock,’ said the boatman, holding out his hook in both hands as if to bar the way.

  ‘Oh, they’re only children,’ said Billy.

  ‘Even so,’ said the boatman, ‘rules are rules. Wait ’til all the men have finished and made themselves decent.’ He studied the girls one by one. ‘Do any of you know how to swim?’

  At once Hettie had her hand in the air.

  ‘How old are you, Missy?’

  ‘I’m nearly five.’

  ‘Nearly eighty-five?’ asked the boatman in a teasing voice. ‘Ever swum in a pond?’

  Hettie shook her head.

  ‘She’s a strong swimmer,’ said Miss Hope.

  ‘Is she now?’

  ‘Hettie can easily swim the length of this pond.’

  ‘And can she sing “God Save the Queen” while she’s doing it?’ The boatman laughed and put down his hook as he cupped his hands. ‘Time, gentlemen, please!’ he called out to the last swimmer in the pond. ‘Avert your eyes, ladies,’ he said, as the man made his way to the jetty.

  ‘I want to dive from there,’ said Hettie, pointing at the platform.