Too late, the front door opened and her brother ran up to the motorcycle running his hands over the petrol tank. ‘Smashing,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d be riding an Enfield or a BSA. But Matchless is good.’ His eyes gleamed with excitement. ‘Can I have a ride?’
Chris grinned. ‘Sorry, not today. I’ve got to go – duty calls.’
‘I’ve seen you, up at the gun place,’ Jimmy said.
Daisy grabbed his arm. ‘Chris hasn’t got time to talk to you. Buzz off,’ she said.
‘Leave him. He’s just interested in bikes. I was like that at his age,’ Chris said. ‘Sorry, Daisy, I must go. You working tomorrow?’
He leaned towards her but she stepped away and just nodded. She couldn’t speak. Being so close to him on the bike stirred up those feelings she had been trying so hard to ignore. She pushed Jimmy towards their front door and followed him inside.
He rushed ahead, chattering excitedly to his parents about the motorcycle and the soldier who brought Daisy home. ‘He might let me have a ride,’ he said, his eyes lighting up.
‘Oh, no, he won’t.’ Dora looked up from her ironing. ‘Too dangerous, my lad. Tell him, Stan’
‘When you’re a bit older, son,’ Stan said.
Jimmy stuck out his lower lip in a sulk and rushed up the stairs to his room.
‘Ignore him,’ Stan said. ‘He’ll get over it.’ He turned to Daisy. ‘Now then, what’s all this about you and that soldier? I remember him accosting you outside the garrison months ago. And now you’re getting on the back of his bike. What’s going on?’
‘Nothing, Dad. He just gave me a lift home, that’s all.’ Daisy was embarrassed. Why had she let Chris persuade her?
‘Well, don’t make a habit of it.’ Stan picked up his newspaper. ‘There’s too many sailors and soldiers in this town,’ he muttered.
Daisy glanced at her mother who was trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile. ‘Don’t take any notice,’ she whispered, then aloud she said, ‘Leave her alone, Stan. We can trust our girl not to do anything silly.’
She smiled at her mother. ‘He’s just a friend, Mum.’ She glanced at the mantelpiece but there was no letter. It was a relief in a way, given how mixed her feelings were. If there had been news of Bob she wasn’t sure she would be able to answer him.
‘Can I help you with that, Mum?’ she asked to change the subject.
Her mother put the iron down and folded the shirt. ‘Nearly finished. Why don’t you put the kettle on? I could do with a cuppa.’
Daisy made the tea and handed a cup to her father who was still deep in his newspaper. He put the paper down and leaned over to switch the wireless on. ‘Time for the news,’ he said.
More doom and gloom, Daisy thought. She put her cup down and picked up the pile of neatly folded ironing. ‘I’ll take this up, Mum. You drink your tea.’
Upstairs, she took her time putting the clean clothing away. She needed time to think. Useless to try and dismiss what she was beginning to feel for Chris, feelings which seemed to get stronger every time she saw him. She hardly dared to hope that he felt the same way. After all, since that night at the pictures he had maintained a friendly but distant stance as if he was quite content with her wish that they remain just friends – that was, until this evening. She had been quite sure that, if not for Jimmy, he would have kissed her. In a way the interruption was a relief. She would have been terribly embarrassed if Mrs Gardner had been looking out of her window too. If ever Bob managed to get home and heard that she’d been seen with a soldier, she could say it was an innocent ride home. But if they’d been kissing it would be a different story.
Suddenly Daisy felt ashamed. How could dreaming of another man be staying true to her first love – the man who at this very moment might be suffering in a prison camp? Next time he asks me to get on the bike I’ll refuse, she thought.
She put the last of her clean clothes into a drawer and went into Jimmy’s room with his shirt and vests. Her brother was sitting at a table in the window making a model aeroplane. He turned as she came in, holding up the model and making engine noises.
‘Spitfire, see, Sis,’ he said, waving it under her nose.
‘Very nice,’ she said.
‘I wanted to be a pilot when I grow up but now I’m thinking despatch rider - like your new boyfriend.’
‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ she snapped.
He laughed and made a brm brm sound, holding his hands out as if gripping handlebars. ‘Better not let Bob find out,’ he said.
Chapter Twenty Two
Daisy was really missing Lily. In the months she’d been working at the NAAFI they had become good friends. June was good company when they went out together after work and little Mavis was coming out of her shell a bit now, joining in with the laughter and banter in the canteen.
But it wasn’t the same. She could talk to Lily about more sensitive things such as her conflicting feelings for the two men in her life. Letters just weren’t the same.
‘I’ve got a job in the Land Army hostel, a bit like the NAAFI but no men, not that any man would look at me the sight I am now,’ Lily wrote. ‘They said I can go back after the baby’s born and Mum will look after it. Well, you know what we arranged for when we come home but while I’m here we’ve given out that I have a husband in the forces. I’m even wearing a ring, Mum bought it in a pawn shop, said she’d lost hers.’
Daisy smiled as she read Lily’s words. She could almost hear Lily’s laugh, but she could read between the lines how hard she was trying to sound cheerful. She decided to write back straight away, saying there was still no word of Bob, but she wouldn’t mention Chris or ‘Lofty’ as Lily still called him.
The next day she was on kitchen duty and she was fed up. Every time the swing door opened, she could hear June and Mavis laughing together and wished she was in there with them. Working alone left her too much time to think. Since the conversation with Dad’s policeman friend she had been on tenterhooks, hoping to hear any day that Mr Browning had been arrested.
She splashed more Teepol into the sink and swished it round before plunging another pile of greasy plates into the water. She sighed, her thoughts going round in never-ending circles. Would she ever hear from Bob or had he gone from her life forever? And if he had...? If only she could see him, she felt sure she would know at once if she still truly loved him and that her attraction to Chris was just a flash in the pan.
Sergeant Shiner’s rough voice intruded on her thoughts. Poor Private Tompkins was getting another telling off. ‘Stop day-dreaming lad. There’s dinners to cook and I need those onions chopped.’
Onions! Where did they get onions? For a moment Daisy’s reflections were deflected as she recalled her mother saying that onions were unobtainable these days. It was hard to understand why there would be a shortage if everyone was ‘digging for victory’ as they’d been urged to do. Luckily, her family weren’t suffering so much as Dad spent every minute that he wasn’t on Home Guard duty working on his allotment.
Daisy glanced over her shoulder to see Sergeant Shiner waving a wooden spoon in Harold’s face. ‘Keep your mind on your work,’ he shouted.
Harold nodded but still kept glancing towards the door which led out to the stores.
He looked nervous, Daisy thought, and couldn’t help wondering if Mr Browning had involved him in his criminal dealings. What would happen to him if the manager was arrested?
It had been a quiet morning up to now, but the shouting soon died down. The Cook Sergeant didn’t usually stay angry for long. Poor Harold still looked very subdued though and Daisy flashed him a smile. He blushed and ducked his head, then went back to chopping the vegetables.
June came through the swing doors with a tray of cups and saucers. ‘Not too busy today. They’re all getting ready for the off.’
‘Off - where too?’
‘We’re not supposed to know but it’s only exercises – over on Salisbury Plain. Getting ready for abroad.’
‘Careless words,’ June said, quoting one of the posters hung around the canteen walls. ‘They didn’t realise I was listening.’
‘Are they all going?’
‘How do I know?’ June grinned. ‘Oh, worried about Lanky Lofty are you?’
Daisy blushed. ‘Of course not,’ she protested. But her heart sank when June said the regiment was leaving.
When it was time for her break she sat in a corner with her cup of tea and forced herself not to raise her head every time the door opened. Her break was over too soon and he hadn’t come in. That was when she finally had to admit that it was Chris, not Bob, who was constantly in her thoughts. She couldn’t bear the thought of him going away without saying ‘goodbye’.
***
Daisy hated coming home to an empty house. All her life her mother had been there with a welcoming smile, a hot drink and tea on the table, a fire in the range and the smell of cooking wafting through the house. And, since his accident, Dad would be there too, sitting in his favourite chair reading the paper and grumbling. But he’d been much better lately. Joining the Home Guard gave him a purpose in life. He still walked with a limp and was sometimes in pain, but having a job to do helped and he was now more like the Dad Daisy remembered from before the accident.
Something good had come out of the war, Daisy thought as she stoked the range into life and set the kettle on the hob. Soon, there was a cheerful blaze and it didn’t take long for the kettle to boil. She made a pot of tea, hoping her parents would be home soon. Even Jimmy, such an annoying pest when they were young, would be welcome company. He had grown up in the past few months, proud of his Scout uniform and the work he was doing to help the war effort.
As if her thoughts conjured him up, the back door was flung open and her brother burst into the kitchen in his usual noisy manner. ‘Hi, Sis. What you been up to? Chatting up your soldier boy, I bet.’
‘I’ve been working, as you very well know. More to the point – what have you been up to?’ ‘Working - like you. We’ve been collecting salvage.’
‘Well, it’s keeping you out of mischief, I suppose.’ Daisy tried not to smile. ‘Any idea what time Mum and Dad will be in?’
Jimmy shook his head. ‘Hope they’re not long. I’m starving.’
‘You’re always starving. I’ll make you a sandwich. Pour yourself some tea.’ Daisy looked in the larder but there wasn’t much in there. She hoped Mum had gone shopping on her way home. It was getting harder to manage on the rations and Daisy knew she was lucky to have most of her meals at the NAAFI. ‘You’ll have to settle for bread and jam, no butter,’ she said.
Jimmy screwed his face up. ‘No butter!’
‘Last week’s ration is all gone. You can have dripping if you prefer.’
‘No thanks. I’ll settle for jam.’
‘Lucky to have that,’ Daisy said, slapping a couple of slices onto a plate and pushing it towards him. They were lucky. Just before Lily had gone away they had been up to the ‘Bunny Bank’ in Minster, a favourite blackberrying area. Mum saved their sugar ration for weeks to have enough for jam making. Looking at the row of jars in the larder, Daisy thought they wouldn’t last long at the rate Jimmy was devouring it.
Dora looked disapproving when she came in and saw Jimmy finishing off his sandwich. ‘Couldn’t you wait for a proper meal?’ she said.
‘I was hungry. Anyway, I’m off out again in a minute.’
Before their mother could ask where too, he swallowed the last of his tea, grabbed his jacket and rushed out.
‘Oh, that boy! I can’t keep up with him.’ Dora put the shopping bag on the table and sank into a chair. ‘He’ll be starving again when he gets home.’
Daisy poured the tea and pushed the cup and saucer towards her mother. ‘Have a rest, Mum. I’ll get the tea ready.’
‘No love. You’ve been working too. Just let me drink this and then I’ll get going again. It was murder at the grocers. Of course, people get out early and grab all the good stuff. We’ve been so busy at the depot, I couldn’t get away.’
‘Never mind, Mum. I had a meal at work. Jimmy can have mine.’
‘Good girl. Anyway, I managed to get a tin of corned beef. I’ll make hash. I’ve got onions and plenty of spuds, thanks to your dad.’
Daisy unpacked the shopping but the mention of onions, made her recall the chef shouting at poor Harold. And that brought her back to her concerns about Mr Browning. Why hadn’t he been arrested yet?’
The smell of cooking invaded the kitchen as Daisy helped her mother to prepare the meal. Amazing what an onion and an Oxo cube could do to spice up a meal, she thought.
Stan thought so too as he came in the back door, sniffing appreciatively. ‘Something smells good,’ he said.
Daisy was dying to ask if there was any news from Constable Rowe, but she held her tongue until the meal was over and Dad was settled in his chair. He switched the wireless on and, as he twiddled the knobs to find the right station, she sat next to him and asked. ‘Any news about what we were talking about the other day?’
Stan shook his head. ‘I spoke to Ted Rowe yesterday. He’s passed on the information to the higher ups and they’re dealing with it.’
‘I get nervous every time I see the manager in case he suspects me of telling. I thought he’d have been arrested by now.’
Dora came in from the kitchen. ‘Who’s been arrested?’
‘No one – yet,’ Stan said. ‘Don’t you worry about it.’
‘So what’s it to do with our Daisy?’
Daisy wished she’d waited till they were alone to raise the subject. She hadn’t realised Dad had kept his suspicions to himself.
She tried to play down her involvement. ‘Dad and I were talking to Constable Rowe about the black market,’ she said.
‘He was just saying what a problem it is,’ Stan said.
‘So who’s going to be arrested? Anyone we know?’
‘Of course not. Now, let’s drop it shall we? I want to listen to the news.’ He leaned over to the wireless to change stations.
Daisy smiled at her mother, who shrugged and picked up her knitting. She half listened to the wireless and her father’s frequent comments, addressed to no one in particular. It was like this most evenings when he was home, having a conversation between himself and the news reader. She caught the words ‘Rommel’ and ‘Tobruk’. Why were they fighting in Africa? It was so hard to keep up with everything that was happening. She supposed that was where the soldiers stationed here would be sent next. And so, as so often lately, her thoughts turned to Chris. Was she soon to be parted from him, just as she’d realised her love for him? And then, guiltily, she thought of Bob and how she would face him – if he ever returned.
Chapter Twenty Three
Bob had been back in England for three weeks and still didn’t know what was going to happen to him. After being picked up from the Home Guard post on the coast by a couple of military policemen, he had been driven for miles across country with no idea where he was – no streetlights as they passed through towns, no signposts anywhere.
‘Are you taking me back to my unit?’ he’d asked more than once, only to be met with stony silence.
‘Am I a prisoner? I haven’t done anything,’ he protested, only to be met with more silence.
In the end he kept quiet, staring out at the passing countryside, hoping for a glimpse of somewhere familiar.
They pulled in through the gates of an army encampment and he was taken to the guard house where he’d been held ever since. He hadn’t been allowed to talk to anyone or to write any letters. He asked if his mother had been informed that he was back and was told not to worry.
He sighed when the door was unlocked and the redcaps came in. Here we go again, more questioning. He had told his story so many times. Why didn’t they believe him? He couldn’t prove any of it; his only witnesses were Tom and Sergeant Williams. It was no good. Tom coul
d vouch for the fact that Bob had left his unit to make sure the sergeant was all right if he had survived.
‘I’m not a deserter,’ Bob protested for what seemed like the thousandth time as they marched him out of the dingy room he’d been held in.
This time it was a different set of officers seated at a long table. A court martial, he knew it. He straightened his shoulders, stood to attention and saluted. He’d show them he was a real solider, not a cowardly runaway.
‘Well Private Gardner, we’ve checked your story as far as we were able,’ the Military Police Major at the head of the table said. ‘You will be pleased to hear that Sergeant Williams recovered from his wounds and is a prisoner in Germany. Private Waters...’
‘Tom,’ Bob interrupted.
The officer ignored him and carried on, ‘Private Waters confirms your story of going back to assist the sergeant.’
Bob sagged with relief. Tom had got back all right then. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Don’t thank me yet.’ The Major smiled tightly and rustled some papers. ‘You will appreciate we are not at liberty to go into details. Suffice to say we do have means of receiving news from the occupied countries and we are satisfied with what you have told us. In fact, you have given us some very valuable information.’
Bob couldn’t imagine what, but he didn’t dare ask. ‘What happens now, sir?’ he felt bold enough to ask.
‘You will be returned to your unit. Training is underway for posting overseas.’ He stacked his papers in a neat pile and stood up. ‘Your debriefing is over. Dismiss.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Bob came to attention again and saluted before being led outside. He paused for a moment to breathe in the fresh autumn air. He was free. He was home. Well, not quite home yet. And then he had to face Daisy. What would he say to her? All these months with no word. She must think he had forgotten her. He tried to stifle the memory of those precious weeks with Francoise, when Daisy had been so far from his mind.
Daisy's War Page 20