Daisy's War

by Roberta Grieve

  The military policemen, their manner a little thawed by his release, conducted him to the stores where he was issued with a new uniform and equipment. It felt good. He was a real soldier again.

  The quartermaster handed him a rail warrant. ‘Forty-eight hours leave and then report to 54HAA, Sheerness, in Kent.’

  His face lit up. He was going home.

  ***

  Daisy mended her stockings for what seemed like the twentieth time. She was due on duty in an hour’s time and this was her last decent pair. She heard the back gate clang open, followed by a knock on the back door. No one else was at home and she got up to answer reluctantly, not in the mood for visitors. Who could it be? No one usually knocked.

  Mrs Gardner stood there, waving a telegram, tears streaming down her face. For a minute Daisy couldn’t take it in. ‘Bob?’ she whispered. A telegram usually only meant one thing.

  Then she realised that Bob’s mother was smiling through her tears.

  ‘He’s safe,’ Mrs Gardner squealed. ‘Not missing any more. I can’t believe it.’

  Daisy’s eyes shone with unshed tears and her legs felt weak but she took her neighbour’s arm and drew her inside. ‘Sit down, you’ve had a shock.’

  ‘I wanted you to be the first to know,’ her neighbour said.

  ‘Is it really true? What happened to him? Is he a prisoner?’ The questions tumbled out, not giving Bob’s mother a chance to answer.

  ‘I don’t know. It doesn’t say. Just said ‘confirmed no longer missing.’ I can’t believe it.’ She shoved the telegram towards Daisy, who took it and read the brief message slowly.

  Bob was safe, thank God. She thought briefly of Chris, who would soon be going off to fight, but quickly dismissed the thought. Bob was safe. She must honour her promise to him.

  She handed the telegram back and put her arm around Mrs Gardner’s shoulders. ‘I’m so relieved,’ she murmured. ‘All these months, not knowing, worrying.’ And she was relieved, of course she was.

  ‘Perhaps he’ll be able to write now,’ Mrs Gardner said. ‘Prisoners of war are allowed to write letters, aren’t they?’

  Daisy nodded but the telegram hadn’t said he was a POW. If he had been a prisoner all this time, why hadn’t they heard from him before now? Why had it taken so long for his mother to be informed? But what else could it mean?

  ‘You’re bound to hear from him soon,’ she said, giving Mrs Gardner a comforting hug.

  Bob’s mother dried her eyes and smiled up at Daisy. ‘You must be so happy. I know how you two feel about each other. Perhaps there’ll be wedding bells when he comes home.’

  Daisy returned her smile but with a sinking heart. She would keep her promise, of course she would, and nothing had happened between her and Chris, so she could do so with a clear conscience.

  ***

  Bob boarded the train at Victoria, a through train to Sheerness. He wouldn’t have to make any more changes now. It had been a long slow journey from Aldershot which is where he had at last learned he’d been held all these weeks. Getting across London had taken hours too, the city bustling with people and traffic, buses weaving their way between the bomb craters. He’d been shocked at the devastation.

  The train was late leaving but at last it began to move and his heart beat faster with anticipation - and a little nervousness too. How would he feel when he saw Daisy again? Would the memory of that precious time with Francoise fade in time as he settled down to life with his childhood sweetheart? If she had stayed true to him as she’d promised, he couldn’t – wouldn’t - let her down.

  The train was packed and he gave up his seat to a young woman with a toddler, spending the journey sitting on his kitbag in the corridor. It felt good to be back in a clean, smart uniform again with his own kit, not having to rely on strangers for clean clothes and shaving gear. By the end of his trek across France they hadn’t seemed like strangers though. He marvelled at their bravery, their refusal to bow down to the invaders. They hadn’t all been like that though and he had been shocked to learn that there were informers among them. Quick thinking on the part of his rescuers had saved him more than once.

  He looked out of the train window, his heart lifting as he began to recognise the landscape around him. What a story he would have to tell when he got home, although he had been warned not to say too much about the resistance people he encountered. He was pleased that the information he’d given at the de-briefing would help others who found themselves in the same position, like those two RAF fliers who had been with him for part of the journey.

  At Swale Halt the train stopped, the only sound the hissing of steam, the cry of gulls swooping over the narrow stretch of water. Bob looked out of the window, suddenly remembering that the Halt was a checkpoint. No one was allowed on to the Island without a pass.

  A soldier pushed his way along the corridor, checking tickets and passes. He grinned at Bob. ‘Been on leave, mate?’

  Bob merely nodded, impatient to get going again.

  The train rumbled across the Kingsferry Bridge, then seemed to take forever as it crept across the marshes, pausing for a few moments at Queenborough before the familiar sights of home came into view.

  He scarcely waited for the train to stop before flinging open the door and jumping down onto the platform. Swinging his kitbag onto his shoulder, he strode out of the station and up the High Street, praying he wouldn’t bump into anyone he knew. He couldn’t stop to greet anyone. He must get home.

  He turned off into the alley that led behind the houses, pausing briefly at the Bishops’ back gate. No, he must see Mum first. He pushed the next door gate open and ran up the path. The door was unlocked as it always was, his mother sitting in her chair with her knitting on her lap.

  She started up as he came in, a puzzled frown on her face which quickly turned to an exclamation of joy as she realised who it was.

  ‘Bob, is it really you?’ Her knitting fell to the floor unheeded as she wrapped her arms around him. ‘Oh, Bobby, Bobby, my son, you’re really home. I can’t believe it.’

  Bob hugged her back, a lump in his throat. He could hardly speak. A fleeting remembrance of the last time he had been called Bobby came and went. ‘It’s so good to be home, Mum.’ He gently pushed her away, took out his handkerchief and wiped the tears from her face. ‘No need to cry, Mum.’ He gave a shaky laugh.

  Mrs Gardner hugged him again. ‘I thought you were a POW. How did you get home?’

  ‘It’s a long story, Mum.’ Bob yawned.

  ‘Sit down, love. Tell me about it later. You must be hungry.’ She bustled around getting things out of the larder, laying the table, muttering to herself about the lack of food in the house. ‘It’s the rationing, love,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Mum.’ Bob sat and watched her, an affectionate smile on his face. Feeding him was Mum’s way of showing her love. He’d had a good meal before leaving Aldershot, but he would eat whatever she put in front of him. He was impatient to see Daisy but another few hours wouldn’t hurt.

  As he ate, he told his mother a little of what had happened to him, why he hadn’t been among those who’d been rescued at Dunkirk. He couldn’t tell her the whole story, just said he’d been captured and escaped.

  ‘We didn’t know. They just said missing,’ Mrs Gardner said, pouring him more tea. ‘Your friend came here – Tom something. He said you went back to help someone.’ She ruffled his hair, what was left of it after the severe army haircut he’d had at Aldershot. ‘Just like you, I told him. Always trying to help.’

  Bob gave an embarrassed shrug. ‘That’s what we do in the Army – look out for each other.’ He finished eating and pushed his plate away. ‘That was good. Missed your cooking, Mum.’

  ‘Now, I suppose you’ll be rushing next door. Daisy’s looking forward to seeing you.’

  ‘You don’t mind me leaving you on your own then?’

  ‘Of course not. There’s plenty of time.’

  Bob hesit
ated, not wanting to spoil things by telling her he would soon be going away again.

  ‘Go on. She’ll be home from work now.’ Mrs Gardner gave him a gentle push in the direction of the back door.

  ***

  Daisy knew Bob was home and had been looking out of the kitchen window, expecting him to come round at any minute. Of course, he had to see his mother first and she’d been glad of the chance to catch her breath, to think what she was going to say. But when she saw him pushing his way through the hedge, just as he always had when they were children, the butterflies started up in her stomach again.

  She opened the back door and paused on the step. He rushed towards her but stopped dead in front of her.

  ‘Daisy!’

  ‘Bob!’

  Then she was in his arms and they both spoke at once telling how much they’d missed each other, how awful it had been, not knowing what had happened to him, how glad he was to be home.

  ‘Did you really miss me?’ Bob asked as they broke apart and went into the house.

  ‘Of course I did – and when you didn’t write I worried. I felt sure something awful had happened to you.’ How could she tell him how angry she was when she hadn’t heard from him, how she had convinced herself he didn’t care? That had been easier then fearing him dead or a prisoner.

  ‘I couldn’t write – surely you understand,’ Bob protested.

  ‘I realise now,’ Daisy said, ‘but at the time... Oh, Bob it was awful.’ Tears welled up and Bob wiped them away with his finger. ‘I’m here now, no need to worry any more.’

  ‘Let’s go in the other room,’ Daisy said. ‘Jimmy will be home soon and I don’t want him pestering us.’

  They went down the passage into the little used front room and sat close to each other on the sofa. Bob put his arm around her and drew her close. ‘I’ve been waiting a long time for this,’ he said, kissing her and stroking her hair.

  Daisy leaned into him, returning the kiss. Wasn’t this what she had been longing for all those months? But it wasn’t the same. She pulled away after a few minutes, sighing.

  ‘What’s wrong, Daisy? Don’t you still love me?’

  ‘It just feels strange, that’s all. I’ve imagined this so often – us together, here on the sofa like we used to be before you went away.’

  ‘I suppose I’ve changed,’ Bob said. ‘War does that to you. I’m not that carefree lad you said goodbye to all those months ago.’

  ‘I’ve changed too. We’ve both grown up, I suppose,’ Daisy said. ‘And I’ve had my fill of war too. I lost a friend in a raid.’

  Bob was silent for a moment. Daisy studied him, noticing the shadows under his eyes, the loss of weight. She daren’t ask what he had been through. He was home safe, that’s all that mattered. She may not love him the way she loved Chris, but he was still her Bob, the one who had tied his hanky round her knee when she fell and grazed it, who taught her to swim, had been her constant companion growing up.

  She knew she ought to confess that she loved someone else. But she had promised to stay true to him. He would soon be going away again back to the fighting. She couldn’t let him go with a broken heart. She would keep her promise.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Daisy was counting cutlery into the trays to go on the counter. She wasn’t really concentrating, her mind going over and over her conversation with Bob the previous day. They had been interrupted when her parents returned home and Daisy had been relieved that they were spared more intimate conversation.

  Bob had given a brief account of his adventures, much to Jimmy’s delight, who kept interrupting. Mum plied him with food and drink, while Stan told him about the raids at Eastchurch. It was a normal family evening, but Daisy had been glad when it was over and she saw Bob out. Their kiss on the back step brought all her confusion to the fore again. Thank goodness she had to work the next day. It would give her a chance to sort out her feelings.

  But here she was, still dithering over whether she should be honest and tell Bob how she felt.

  ‘You’re quiet this morning,’ June said, dumping a pile of plates next to the cutlery tray. ‘I thought you’d be dancing for joy with Bob home.’

  ‘I haven’t taken it in. All these months, worrying, wondering and then, here he is. In some ways it’s as if he’s never been away. But, June – he’s changed. I’ve changed.’

  ‘Bound to with what he’s been through. Give it time.’

  Daisy nodded and carried on with her work. If only they had time, she mused. But Bob told her he had to report for duty the next day. He would be rejoining the regiment over in Wiltshire where they were still training. Then he’d be shipped out again, who knew where? Should she let him go thinking that all was well between them?

  How she missed Lily. June was a good friend but she didn’t feel the same closeness, couldn’t have a heart to heart as she’d done with Lily.

  She worked mechanically, longing for the end of her shift. Bob was coming to meet her from work and she had almost decided to speak out, only to change her mind again when she pictured his disappointment.

  Mrs Green had the afternoon off and gave Daisy the responsibility of cashing up the till. ‘Mr Browning will lock up,’ she’d said. ‘I know you’re anxious to get away now your young man’s home.’ She smiled sympathetically and went on, ‘But we’ve all got to pull our weight. I know I can trust you, Daisy.’

  Daisy nodded but deep down she wondered why, if Mrs Green was being so nice for a change, she couldn’t let her go early.

  At the end of the shift, June and Mavis said ‘goodbye’ and left her. Alone in the canteen, she looked round nervously. She hoped she could get finished and away before the manager realised she was still here. She had managed to avoid him since the talk with Constable Rowe and she didn’t relish being alone in the building with him.

  After cashing up, she went through to Mrs Green’s office to put the money away in the safe. Passing through the kitchen she was relieved to see Harold wiping down the cutting boards. She was pleased that there was someone else here and she said, ‘Working late, Harold?’

  He smiled and nodded. ‘Nearly finished. Off in a minute.’

  She wanted to ask him to stay and walk with her but feared he would misinterpret her friendliness, so she said ‘goodnight’ and went into Mrs Green’s office.

  It didn’t take long to tidy everything away and she hurriedly left the room, pausing to grab her jacket and going outside. She hadn’t seen Mr Browning and hoped he was still in his own office. Better get away before he comes out, she thought.

  As she turned to close the door, she heard a vehicle and caught a brief glimpse of the manager’s van. She crept round the side of the building just as Mr Browning got out and went into the store. What was he up to now?

  Hearing footsteps behind her, she forced herself into the gap between the store and the canteen, peering out to see who it was. Harold! So he was in on it as she’d suspected earlier.

  She waited till he’d followed Mr Browning into the store and decided to leave before she was caught spying on them. But just as she stepped out from her hiding place, the manager came out carrying boxes, Harold behind him. She froze, watching as they loaded the van. He hadn’t seen her. She let out a breath and started to move, just as he turned to go back into the store.

  A torch beam flickered over her face and she shrank back into the shadows. ‘Hey, what are you doing here?’ He rushed towards her and grabbed her arm.

  Heart beating rapidly and her breath coming in gasps, she managed to stay calm. ‘I could ask you the same question,’ she said.

  ‘Harold said you’d gone home. Anyway, as I’ve said before it’s none of your business.’

  Daisy glared at him. ‘No? Well, you can’t pretend you’re taking stores to Eastchurch this time, can you? The NAAFI up there is still a heap of rubble.’

  His grip on her arm tightened. ‘Private Tompkins, get back to your quarters. I’ll deal with this.’


  With a frightened look at Daisy, the young man started to walk away.

  Daisy was really scared now. ‘Harold, don’t leave me with him,’ she pleaded.

  He shook his head and started to run, disappearing into the gathering darkness.

  ‘Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you,’ Browning shouted after him. ‘Now then, missy. What shall we do with you? They say curiosity killed the cat, don’t they?’ He laughed harshly and gave her a shove. ‘Get in the van.’

  ***

  Bob waited outside the guard room, glancing at his watch. She should have come off duty by now. Where was she? He was tempted to go into the NAAFI and look for her but didn’t want to bump into any of his old mates. They’d be clamouring for the story of where he had been all this time and how he’d managed to get back. He was still on leave and time was precious.

  He paced up and down. He had to make the most of this time with Daisy. They needed to have a long talk. He had sensed that something wasn’t right last night. Perhaps it was just being apart so long that had changed her – changed both of them.

  A motorcycle pulled up alongside him and a lanky despatch rider dismounted, pulling off his helmet. ‘Waiting for someone?’ he asked.

  ‘My girl friend. She’s late,’ Bob replied. He glanced towards the NAAFI building behind the guard house. ‘She works in the NAAFI.’

  ‘It’s closed now. Perhaps she’s already gone home.’

  ‘No, Daisy would have waited. I’ll hang about a bit longer.’

  ‘Daisy – Daisy Bishop?’ The man held out his hand to shake. ‘You must be Bob. I heard you’d made it back. She’ll be glad you’re safe.’

  ‘You know my Daisy then?’ Bob returned the handshake tentatively.

  ‘We know all the NAAFI girls. I’m Chris, but most of my mates call me Lofty.’