A Valentine for Daisy

by Betty Neels

  ‘Maisie,’ she said urgently, ‘what’s the matter? Do you hurt anywhere? Did you fall down?’

  Maisie opened her eyes. ‘Pain in me chest,’ she mumbled. She put out a hand and touched the cat. ‘Look after ’em, Daisy…’

  A doctor, thought Daisy, or better still get her to hospital where everyone knew her. ‘And the animals…they need their suppers,’ muttered Maisie.

  There was a curtained-off alcove where Maisie had her kitchen; Daisy found cat and dog food kept there, piled it into bowls, filled a dish with water and gave Maisie a drink. ‘I’m going to get a doctor,’ she told her. ‘I must go away for a little while and phone. I’ll be back.’

  There was a phone box further up the street and she rang the children’s ward because she wasn’t sure what else to do and since Maisie worked there surely someone would get her into hospital.

  Sister was still on duty; Daisy didn’t waste words. ‘Sister, I’m so glad it’s you. Maisie’s ill. She has a pain in her chest; she looks awful. What shall I do?’

  ‘Stay with her, Daisy; I’ll get an ambulance organised as quickly as I can. Has she had a doctor?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so…’ She rang off and hurried back, to find Maisie lying exactly as she had left her. The dog and cat had eaten their food and got back beside her, and Daisy rather warily picked up one of Maisie’s limp, sweaty hands and found her pulse. It was very rapid and faint and Maisie seemed to be asleep even though from time to time she coughed painfully.

  Daisy pulled up a chair, wiped Maisie’s hot face with a damp cloth and sat down to wait. Sister would send help but it might take at least ten minutes, perhaps longer than that, before an ambulance arrived. Perhaps she should have dialled 999 first…

  The door behind her opened quietly and she turned round; if it was the young woman who had let her in she might know who Maisie’s doctor was.

  Dr Seymour came hurriedly into the room. ‘I was with Sister when you phoned,’ he said in his calm voice which instantly soothed her worst fears. ‘The ambulance is on its way. Has Maisie a doctor?’

  ‘I don’t know. There’s a woman downstairs who let me in; she might know.’

  ‘Don’t bother. We can sort that out later.’ He was bending over Maisie, taking her pulse, talking gently to her and getting a mumbled response.

  ‘You’re going to be all right, Maisie,’ he assured her with calm matter-of-factness. ‘You’re going to hospital presently and we’ll look after you.’

  Maisie opened her eyes and caught at his arm. ‘Milly and Whiskers—’ she stopped to cough ‘—I can’t leave ’em.’

  ‘I’ll take them home with me until you’re well again.’

  ‘Promise.’ Her eyes sought Daisy. ‘You ’eard what ’e said, Daisy? They’re all I’ve got…’

  ‘Don’t worry, Maisie; if Dr Seymour says he will look after them, he will. All you have to do is get well again.’

  The ambulance came then and after a brief delay while the doctor took the cat and dog out to his car and shut them in Maisie was borne away to hospital. The doctor had gone down with the ambulancemen and presently as she tidied the room and stripped the bed of its bedclothes Daisy heard it drive away. The room needed to be cleaned and there was food in the cupboard which would have to be either given or thrown away and she had better see the woman downstairs and then lock the door.

  The doctor came soundlessly into the room. ‘Maisie will go to the women’s medical ward—virus pneumonia—I’ve warned them.’ He looked round the room. ‘We must do better than this when she’s well again. Leave it all now, Daisy. I’ll see that someone comes in in the morning to clear up. Perhaps you’ll be good enough to come with me and give a hand with those animals?’

  ‘My bike’s here. And where are they to go?’

  ‘To my house, of course. God knows what Belle will say when she sees them.’ He took the key from the door. ‘Come along, there’s nothing more you can do here.’

  He ushered her out on to the landing, locked the door and followed her downstairs, to knock on the nearest door. The young woman opened it, eyeing him with a slow smile. ‘Got rid of ’er, ’ave you? Poor cow…’

  ‘Miss Watts,’ said the doctor evenly, ‘has been taken to hospital; she is a much liked member of the staff there. We’re taking her cat and dog with us and will care for them and in the morning someone will come and clear out Miss Watts’s room. One more thing—is there someone here capable of riding a bicycle to Wilton? This young lady will be going back there by car later but she’ll need the bike in the morning.’

  He put a hand in his pocket and took out a note.

  ‘Me ’usband’ll do it—give us the address.’

  The doctor was writing in his notebook and tore out the page. ‘Your husband…he’s here?’

  A young man came to the door. ‘OK, I ’eard it all. I’ll ride the bike back—I’ve ’ad an ’ard day’s work too.’

  ‘Perhaps this will compensate for that,’ said the doctor, handing over the note and the address. ‘It’s very good of you and I’m much obliged.’

  ‘A doctor, are you?’

  ‘Yes, indeed I am.’

  The man laughed. ‘A good idea to keep on the right side of the medics; you never know.’

  ‘Be sure if ever you or yours should need our attention, you shall have the best there is,’ said the doctor gravely and bade the pair of them goodnight before ushering Daisy out to the car.

  The animals were sitting on a blanket on the back seat, looking utterly forlorn, and the sight of them was just too much for Daisy. Two tears trickled down her cheeks as she sat rigidly staring ahead of her while the doctor drove back into the heart of Salisbury and in through the entrance to the cathedral close. She hadn’t said a word; she was beyond words—everything had happened so quickly and she seemed no longer capable of doing anything for herself.

  The doctor hadn’t spoken either although she knew he had seen the tears, but as he drew up before the house he handed her a beautifully laundered handkerchief, and waited while she mopped her face. Without looking at her he said in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘Will you carry the cat? We’ll take them straight to the kitchen and see if Mrs Trump can find them some food; Maisie has obviously cared for them but I suspect that she hasn’t felt up to feeding them since she fell ill.’

  Daisy said in a watery voice, ‘I gave them something—Maisie was so worried about them.’

  ‘Very sensible.’ His manner was nicely detached and the brief glance he gave her was somehow reassuring. Perhaps she didn’t look quite as frightful as she felt.

  He got out of the car, opened her door and reached for the cat. It wriggled half-heartedly as Daisy took it in her arms and the dog, tucked under the doctor’s arm, made no sound although it quivered. ‘Poor little beast,’ said the doctor and fished in his pocket for his keys.

  His housekeeper came through the baize door as they went in and he said at once, ‘Good evening, Mrs Trump. We have two lodgers to keep Belle company for a few days. Their owner is ill.’

  Mrs Trump’s sharp nose quivered but she said in the mildest of voices, ‘I dare say they’ll want a bite to eat, sir…?’

  She glanced at Daisy, standing tidily beside the doctor, and he said, ‘And this is Miss Daisy Pelham whose sensible help led to the patient being admitted to the hospital.’ He swept Daisy forward, a great arm on her shoulders. ‘Daisy, this is Mrs Trump, my housekeeper and long-standing friend.’

  Daisy offered a hand and smiled and Mrs Trump smiled back, shook the hand firmly and asked, ‘What about your dinner, sir?’

  ‘Oh—stretch it for two if you can, Mrs Trump. Miss Pelham will be dining here before I take her home.’

  A piece of high-handedness which Daisy had her mouth open to censure, to be stopped by
his casually friendly, ‘You will, won’t you, Daisy? We must discuss what’s to be done with Maisie. You shall telephone your mother in just a moment.’

  He took the cat from her with the remark that he would only be a moment, and went through the baize door followed by his housekeeper, to return almost immediately, which gave her no time to gather together her scattered wits.

  ‘Let me have your jacket.’ He unbuttoned it and threw it over a chair before she could speak. ‘Now come into the drawing-room and phone your mother.’

  His large gentle hand propelled her through the door and into a room which took her breath away. There were tall windows and a door leading to the garden at the back and a wide arch opposite leading to the dining-room at the front of the house. There was a brisk fire burning in a burnished steel grate with a massive sofa on either side of it and a satinwood sofa table behind each of them. The walls were hung with burgundy silk and the ceiling was strapwork. There was a William and Mary winged settee by the window with a tripod table with a piecrust edge beside it and above a hanging cabinet with a delicate lyre pattern. At the other end of the room was a small grand piano, several winged armchairs grouped around a Regency library table and in the corner a wrought-iron stand holding a great bowl of chrysanthemums.

  Daisy revolved slowly, taking it all in. ‘What a very beautiful room,’ she observed. ‘Your London house is grand and beautiful too but this is like home…’

  ‘As indeed it is.’ He picked up the phone and dialled her home number and handed it to her, walked to the door to let Belle in from the garden and stood there with his back to her.

  ‘Mother,’ said Daisy and waited patiently while Mrs Pelham asked a great many agitated questions. ‘No, I’m quite all right; Dr Seymour will bring me back presently. Yes, I know a man brought my bike home—I shall need it tomorrow. I’ll explain when I get home; I’m quite all right—really. Now bye.’ She hung up and the doctor came back from the window and offered her a seat on one of the sofas. He sat down opposite her with Belle’s great head on his shoes.

  ‘I’ll drive you home when we’ve had dinner,’ he told her. ‘I’ll take a look at Maisie later on once she has been settled in bed and tomorrow I’ll get Dr Walker to look her over. If it is virus pneumonia—and I’m sure that it is—she can have a course of antibiotics and a week or ten days in hospital and then some sick leave. But you must agree with me that some other place must be found for her. That room was terrible.’

  ‘It was spotlessly clean,’ said Daisy. ‘Bed-sitting rooms cost an awful lot of money, you know.’

  He got up and went to a side-table with a tray of drinks on it. ‘Will you have a glass of sherry?’ He turned to smile at her. ‘You look as though you could do with it.’

  She felt her cheeks grow hot; she must look awful, hair anyhow and probably a red nose from crying. ‘Thank you,’ she said primly, and he hid a smile.

  ‘I’ll ask around; I’m sure there must be somewhere more suitable than her present room. You don’t know if the furniture is hers?’

  ‘No, I don’t, but I think perhaps it is, because it was all so beautifully polished…’ She sipped her sherry. ‘What about Milly and Whiskers?’

  ‘Oh, they can stay here. Mrs Trump has a heart of gold, Belle will be delighted to mother them and they can enjoy the garden.’

  ‘But you’re not always here.’ She wished she hadn’t said that because he smiled and didn’t reply and that made her feel as though she had been nosy. The silence went on for a little too long and she was racking her brains for a suitable remark when Mrs Trump came to tell them that she had put the soup on the table. ‘Those two poor creatures are asleep in front of the Aga,’ she told them. ‘Fair worn out, they are.’

  The table was decked with the same elegance as that of his house in London; the doctor seated her, took his own chair at the head of the table and politely offered salt and pepper. They weren’t needed; Mrs Trump was quite obviously the kind of cook whose food needed nothing added. The soup, served in Worcester china, was a creamy blend of leeks and potato with a hint of sorrel; Daisy, who cooked very nicely but of necessity dealt with the plainest of food, supped it with delight and wondered what would come next.

  The plates were removed and the doctor engaged her in small talk and offered her white wine. Fish or chicken, she decided, agreeing pleasantly that Salisbury was a lovely city. It was roast duck, something she had never tasted before and it was delicious. She had known about the orange sauce but there was a delicious tang to it as well; if ever she had the chance, which wasn’t likely, she would ask Mrs Trump what it was…

  It was followed by castle puddings, served with a custard so rich that it must have been made almost entirely from cream. She refused a second helping and said rather shyly, ‘That was the most delicious meal I’ve ever tasted.’

  ‘Mrs Trump is a splendid cook and I must agree with you—what’s the food like at the hospital?’

  ‘Really very good—of course, cooking for several hundred people can’t be the same as cooking for one, can it?’ She thought for a moment. ‘Besides, it’s cabbage and mince and boiled potatoes, though we do get fish on Fridays and sometimes roast meat.’

  She stopped then, afraid that she was boring him. ‘If you don’t mind I think I should go home…’

  The doctor hadn’t been bored; he had been sitting there, watching her nice face, listening to her pretty voice and thinking how delightful she looked sitting at his table, but he allowed none of this to show.

  ‘Coffee? We’ll have it in the drawing-room, take a quick look at Maisie’s animals and then I’ll drive you back.’

  Daisy had had a long day; her eyelids dropped as she drank her coffee and the doctor bent forward gently and took the cup and saucer from her. She looked exactly right, sitting there in a corner of the sofa. Her small nose shone, the lipstick had long since worn off and her hair needed a good brush; moreover her gentle mouth had dropped very slightly open so that what sounded very like a whispered snore issued from it. Nevertheless her small person had an endearing charm. He touched her shoulder gently and she opened her eyes.

  ‘I went to sleep,’ said Daisy prosaically. ‘I’m so sorry—it was the wine and the sherry. Whatever must you think of me?’

  She sat up very straight and the doctor decided not to answer that. Instead he said soothingly, ‘You must be tired. I’ll take you home—are you on duty in the morning?’

  ‘Yes. Please may I see the animals before we go so that I can tell Maisie how well cared-for they are?’

  ‘Of course. We’ll go now.’

  Milly and Whiskers were curled up in front of the Aga in the kitchen—an apartment which Daisy considered to be every woman’s dream. They eyed their visitors warily for a moment but Daisy got down on her knees and stroked their elderly heads and mumbled comfortingly and they closed their eyes again. ‘I’ll take care of them, don’t you worry,’ Mrs Trump assured her.

  The doctor drove Daisy back in a comfortable silence, got out and knocked on her door, assured Mrs Pelham that there was nothing to worry about and wished Daisy goodnight.

  She put out her hand. ‘You’ve been awfully kind, sir. Thank you for my dinner and for seeing to the animals. Will Maisie be all right?’

  ‘Yes. I can promise you that. Goodnight, Daisy.’

  He had gone and she went indoors and sleepily told her mother and Pamela what had happened. It was Pamela who told her to go to bed. ‘You’re tired out, aren’t you, Daisy? And I suppose you’ve got to go to work in the morning?’ When Daisy nodded she added, ‘Do go to bed now—I’ll see to laying the table for breakfast and feeding Razor. You would have thought they would have given you a day off…’

  ‘Well, if Maisie’s not there there’s only me,’ said Daisy and went thankfully to her bed.

  She went to see
Maisie the following morning during her coffee break. Feeling a good deal more self-possessed than on the occasion of her first visit to the women’s medical ward, she tapped on Sister’s door.

  That lady said grudgingly, ‘Ah, Daisy. I’ve been instructed to allow you to visit Maisie whenever it’s convenient.’ She lowered her head over the papers on her desk. ‘She’s at the end of the ward.’

  Daisy met Mrs Brett halfway down the ward. ‘And what are you doing here?’ demanded her erstwhile colleague.

  ‘Visiting,’ said Daisy sweetly and walked past.

  Maisie was sitting up in bed, looking a lot better than she had done the evening before. All the same, she was a shadow of her former cheerful self.

  ‘Hello, Maisie,’ said Daisy cheerfully, ‘you look better already. I may come and see you whenever I have the time. I thought you’d like to know that Milly and Whiskers are fine. Dr Seymour’s housekeeper is such a nice person and I’m sure she’ll look after them.’

  Maisie nodded her head. ‘’E came ter see me last night. I wasn’t feeling too good but ’e said ’e’d look after ’em. What about me room?’

  ‘Dr Seymour told me that he’d see about it so I shouldn’t worry about it. Is there anything you want?’

  ‘Me nighties and me ’andbag.’

  ‘I’ll get them for you this evening as I go home. Will it be all right if I bring them in the morning?’

  ‘Yes, ducks.’

  The unbidden thought crossed Daisy’s mind as she left the ward that it would have been nice to see the doctor, but there was no sign of him. She went back to her work, doing her best to do Maisie’s share as well and a little to her surprise getting some willing help from the nurses. All the same she was tired when she finished work for the day and got on her bike. It wasn’t until she was knocking on the door of the house where Maisie had been living that she remembered that the doctor had locked the door of her room and probably there wasn’t another key. She would have to ask the young woman if there was another one.