Dora let him, signs of tears streaking her face. She shook her head, then ushered Chris into the kitchen. Stan was sitting at the table with a policeman.
‘Come in, Chris. This is Constable Rowe, an old friend.’
‘I thought Bob would be here.’
‘He’s on duty and being shipped out in a day or two. We must find her before he goes. He’s in a right state, I can tell you.’
He knew how Bob felt. He was on standby himself, waiting to hear when and where he would be sent. ‘No news then, I take it.’
‘Not yet, but Ted here says the police are on the lookout for Browning’s van. They’ve now got enough evidence to charge him.’
‘Charge him? What’s that got to do with Daisy?’
‘She’s a witness.’
‘Witness to what?’ Chris was confused. Daisy hadn’t told him about this.
‘He’s been stealing from the NAAFI and selling on the black market.’
So that’s why Daisy had been nervous of him; he’d been imagining something quite different. ‘Is there anything I can do?’ he asked.
‘Leave it to the police, son,’ Constable Rowe said. ‘We’ll find him – and Daisy too.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ said Stan and Dora let out a choked sob.
Chris nodded and turned to go. There wasn’t much point in staying and there was precious little time to do what he planned. Dora saw him to the door and he took her hands, saying, ‘Try not to worry, Mrs Bishop.’
She managed a tremulous smile. ‘She was so happy to see Bob. And now this...’
He mounted his motorbike and rode away. Leave it to the police – not likely. Back to the NAAFI first. If Browning thought the police were on to him, perhaps he’d locked Daisy in the storeroom to give him time to get away. He’d tear the place apart if necessary and he wouldn’t let anyone stop him.
***
Daisy strained her ears, but all was quiet. She felt all around the walls of her prison, pushing at the planks in the hope of finding a loose board. She must escape before Browning came back. She was now convinced he was going to kill her and bury her body on his allotment. She knew too much.
At least Dad and his policeman friend knew what he’d been up to. It might be too late for her, but they’d make sure Browning got his just deserts. The thought brought no comfort and she shivered. No one knew where she was. Surely they would be looking for her though.
She sank down onto her haunches and put her head in her hands, giving herself up to despair. No use shouting for help. Besides, her throat was raw already. Her hands felt clammy and her heart pounded. He’d be back soon and then what?
She shook her head and sat up straight. She couldn’t just sit here and wait for whatever was in store. She must at least try to escape.
Sun streamed through the narrow gaps in the planks, giving her enough light to see what she was doing. Once more she examined her prison, more carefully this time. She pushed at the door in frustration, hearing the padlock rattle against the wood. There was a bolt too, she realised.
She sat down again, thinking hard. There must be a way. She remembered the adventure stories she’d read as a child. The heroes always managed to escape from locked rooms. She’d already felt around on the dusty floor and found nothing, but in desperation she tried again, going over every inch.
Her fingers closed on a small piece of metal. She held it up to the light – a nail. Fat lot of good that was, she thought. Still, better than nothing. She went over to the door again. The padlock was on the outside – no chance of picking that lock. She wiped her damp hands on her skirt and examined the hinges, feeling around the edges in the meagre light. Was one of them loose? She pushed the nail into the tiny gap and wriggled it around.
Almost weeping with frustration, she continued to pry at the loose hinge for what seemed like hours. It just wouldn’t budge.
She paced the floor in despair. Browning would be back and she must get away. Then she remembered the spade which she had thrown down in a corner. She grabbed it and raised it to her shoulder. She’d give him a good whack when he came in, take him by surprise and make a run for it. Gripping the spade, she waited tensely for the sound of the van.
After a few minutes she gave an impatient exclamation. ‘Idiot,’ she muttered, moving closer to the door.
She pushed the edge of the spade into the small gap by the loose hinge and began to wiggle it to and fro. Panting with the effort at last she felt it starting to give. She dropped the spade and worked at it with her hands. Finally, with broken nails and bleeding fingers the hinge came away and she pushed at the door. The bottom hinge still held but she was able to create a gap large enough to squeeze through.
Freedom, fresh air and sunshine. She paused to get her bearings, alert for the sound of a vehicle and Browning’s return. She looked around - she was right about the shed being on an allotment, but it wasn’t one of those near the canal where her father’s was. These plots were alongside the railway line not far from the station.
Most of them were well tended, with rows of bean poles and the feathery tops of carrots poking through the soil. This one was on the far side, away from the road. It was obvious Browning was no gardener. Weeds grew tall among neglected cabbages and cauliflowers. A swathe of bare ground covered in gravel, formed a path through the middle. She could see tyre marks where the van had parked.
Mindful that Browning could return at any minute, she pushed her way through the tall weeds, away from the path, ears alert for the sound of the van.
When she heard the distinctive growl of its engine, she crouched down among the weeds. Then she heard the van door slam and footsteps on the gravel. Had he seen her?
She crawled away, hoping to reach the shelter of a shed near the railway line. She would hide there till he’d gone.
As a roar of rage filled the air, she stopped crawling, biting her knuckles. She dared to look back over her shoulder. He was pacing up and down, shouting. ‘Come out, you little bitch. You can’t hide forever.’
She crouched lower, hand over her mouth, as he looked towards her hiding place. He took a step forward and she held her breath, beginning to tremble.
Then she heard it. A motorcycle? Yes - and another vehicle. Her heart raced. It couldn’t be Chris, could it? How would he know where to find her? But even if it wasn’t him, noises meant people, people who would save her.
She dared to stand up and started to run towards the vehicles parked near the entrance to the allotments. She looked back over her shoulder, expecting pursuit. But Browning was getting into his van, slamming the doors and revving the engine in his haste to get away.
Chris ran towards her, holding out his arms and she went into them, letting herself be held by him and sobbing against his shoulder.
‘How did you find me?’ she croaked.
‘It’s a long story. The main thing is, you’re safe.’ He gently pushed her away as someone else came towards them.
‘Dad!’ She cried, hugging him tightly. ‘Oh, Dad. He locked me in. I was so scared.’
‘Brave too, my girl. You got away, didn’t you? Come on, let’s get you home.’ He led her over to the police van where Constable Rowe stood. Browning had been handcuffed and hustled into it by two police officers.
‘Well done, Daisy.’ He patted her shoulder. ‘I’ll come round later to take your statement.’
Chris, who had been standing by, spoke up. ‘Will you let me take her home, Mr Bishop? I’ll look after her.’
Stan nodded. ‘I’ll follow on.’
***
Daisy was exhausted, wishing they would all leave her alone – except for Chris, of course, who held her hand throughout the questioning. First of all, Dora cried all over her, holding her tightly as if she would never let go. ‘Dad told you to leave it to the police,’ she cried. ‘I dread to think...’ and she started crying again.
‘Now then, Dora, our girl’s come home safe. Let her get her breath,’ Stan said, turning to Chris. �
��Take her into the front room, lad. We’ll bring some tea in, in a minute, give Daisy time to get her breath back.’
They sat on the sofa together, Chris’s arms around her, while she recounted her ordeal, how Browning shoved her into the van and drove all over the Island, or so it seemed, before locking her in the shed.
‘How did you know where to find me?’ she asked.
‘We’d been looking for you all night – Bob too, until he had to report back,’ Chris said.
Daisy gasped. She had completely forgotten about poor Bob. ‘Does he know I’m safe?’ she asked.
Stan nodded. ‘I telephoned the barracks.’
Daisy nodded. ‘Thank you. So what happened then?’
Chris took up the story. ‘I went back to the NAAFI to confront Browning. I knew you were scared of him and then your father told me why.’ He glanced at Stan, who nodded for him to continue. ‘He wasn’t there and no sign of his van either. I had a word with Private Tompkins. He was shaking in his shoes when he realised why I was asking about Daisy. Swore he’d been forced into helping. Anyway, he finally admitted that Browning had an allotment and sometimes stored stuff there. I got on my bike and rode straight there.’ He squeezed Daisy’s hand. ‘You can’t imagine how I felt when you suddenly ran towards me.’
She smiled. ‘Exactly how I felt when I saw you,’ she said, blushing.
Dora and Stan exchanged glances but said nothing.
‘So how did Dad know to come there?’ Daisy asked.
‘The police were on the lookout for Browning’s van and Ted told me it was spotted going towards the allotments. We alerted his colleagues and rushed over there.’ He grinned. ‘Chris beat us to it.’
‘What will happen to Harold – I mean Private Tompkins?’
‘Court martial, I expect – and a spell in Colchester,’ Chris said.
‘The army prison,’ Stan explained. ‘And a long spell in prison for Browning too.’
Dora sighed. ‘What makes people do things like that? Here we are, all trying to do our bit for the war effort, all pulling together...’
‘There’ll always be people like him. They see an opportunity to make money easily and they grab it.’ Stan stood up. ‘I’m going to see your supervisor – explain why you’re not at work. I hear she’s been giving you a hard time. I’ll make sure she knows what a heroine you are.’
He left the room, Dora following. ‘We’ll leave you two alone for a bit,’ she said with a smile.
When she’d gone, Chris took Daisy in his arms. The kiss that followed was all she’d dreamed of.
He released her and looked into her eyes. ‘Daisy, my love, never frighten me like that again. I thought I’d lost you.’ He kissed her again and she stroked his hair, kissing him back, passionately. She wanted to stay there forever.
‘I was scared,’ she admitted, ‘but angry too – how dare he do this to me? How did he think he’d get away with it?’ She looked into his eyes. ‘I prayed you would find me. When I heard your motorbike...’
‘Thank God you’re safe.’ He ran his hand through her springy curls. ‘The thoughts that went through my mind when I heard you were missing...’ He hesitated, then burst out, ‘I know you’re promised to Bob but I have to say it, I love you, Daisy.’
‘I love you too, but...’
‘Bob! Of course. I understand.’ Chris stood up. ‘I must go. I have to report back.’
‘Is it true you’re being posted abroad?’ she asked. She didn’t want him to go but she must speak to Bob before things went any further.
‘Afraid so. Soon – a few days at most. But I’ll make sure I see you before I go even if it means going AWOL. We’ve a lot to talk about.’
‘Bob’s going too. I need to see him – to explain.’
Chris leaned forward and kissed her again. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘But you need to make up your mind.’
She didn’t answer, just walked him to the door and watched as he mounted his motorcycle. She knew now, was absolutely certain – Chris was the one. But how could she let Bob down? A tear rolled down her cheek and she closed the door, went into the front room, wanting to be alone. Despite her promise to him, she knew she had to break it.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Bob was in his billet, checking his equipment waiting for the expected order to embark for overseas. The rest of the unit was still in Wiltshire training, but as soon as they returned, he would join them and then they’d be off. They hadn’t been told officially that they were bound for North Africa, but they’d been issued with hot weather uniforms suitable for the desert.
Bob couldn’t wait for the order to be off, needed to get away. In a way he was glad that he’d be leaving Daisy again. He’d seen how she was with Chris. It was obvious to anyone that she was in love with him – and he with her.
She’d promised faithfully to stay true to him but he couldn’t be angry – after all, he’d fallen in love too. Francoise, sweet, gentle Francoise – but brave too, hiding him and others from the Germans, doing her bit for her occupied country. Would he ever see her again?
He had to face the fact that he might not, but he would hold the memory of those precious few days with her in his heart forever.
He tipped the contents of his kitbag out onto the bed and checked them again. It was something to do but it didn’t stop the thoughts from whirling around in his head. What should he do? While he’d been travelling across France, he had tried to forget Francoise, concentrating on his longed-for reunion with his childhood sweetheart. And if things had been different, he would have kept his promise.
He still loved Daisy but now he realised it was a different sort of love. He wanted her to be happy and she wouldn’t be happy with him, especially if he was forever harking back to those wonderful few days in France. Even in the midst of danger it had been a magical time. Sadly, he acknowledged the end of his dream of a life with his childhood sweetheart.
When he came off duty this evening, he would go and see Daisy, release her from her promise. He wouldn’t mention Chris though. And he wouldn’t tell her about Francoise – the end of another dream, he thought bitterly.
***
Despite her parents’ entreaties to stay at home and recover from her ordeal, Daisy insisted she would be better off being busy and went in to work the following day.
Halfway through the morning, she began to wish she had stayed home. June and Mavis bombarded her with questions each time there was a lull in serving, eager to hear details of Daisy’s kidnapping and the subsequent capture of Sid Browning.
‘It’s just like a film,’ Mavis squealed. ‘And you rescued by the handsome hero.’
Daisy laughed it off, but Mavis wasn’t deterred.
‘I can just picture that Lofty bloke roaring up on his motorbike and rescuing you from the hands of the villain.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ June said. ‘It was the police that caught him.’ She turned to Daisy. ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’
Daisy nodded and June said, ‘Still, it is exciting. Nothing like that has ever happened around here.’
I wish they’d shut up and leave me alone, Daisy thought, catching sight of Mrs Green watching through the hatch. They were supposed to be getting the canteen ready for the lunchtime rush, so she gave Mavis a nudge. ‘We’d better get on. I’ll talk to you later,’ she said.
During their break she had to go through it all again but, despite their pleas, she refused to go into detail about Sid Browning’s activities. ‘I’m not allowed to say anything until the trial,’ she told them.
‘Will you have to go to court?’ Mavis asked.
‘I will if he pleads not guilty,’ she said.
They finished their meal and the girls reluctantly returned to work. They were quite busy and every time the door opened Daisy looked up, catching her breath and releasing it when it turned out to be yet another unfamiliar soldier or sailor coming through the door. She longed to see Chris, although she knew it was Bob she should be looki
ng out for. She must speak to him, although what she would say she hadn’t a clue. Her head told her she must forget Chris and keep her promise, but her heart was saying no.
At last the long day came to an end and Daisy helped Mrs Green with the cashing up, hoping June and Mavis would have walked on without her. She couldn’t face yet another interrogation.
Her heart skipped a beat when she left the building and saw Bob waiting outside. He smiled and came towards her, putting his arm around her shoulders as they began the walk home. After his first ‘hello’ he was silent and they walked along, each deep in their own thoughts.
Daisy assumed his silence was because he would be leaving. He hated farewells. Did he realise her feelings had changed while he was away? Had his feelings changed? They must sort things out before he went.
‘When do you go?’ she asked.
‘Not sure exactly but we’re on standby – tomorrow or the next day.’
Daisy’s heart skipped a beat. Chris would be going too. Would she manage to see him before he went?
They reached the broad path leading up to the old fairground and instead of continuing along the High Street, Bob suggested they go up to the seafront.
‘We’re not allowed,’ Daisy said.
‘Oh, I forgot. Let’s sit on the wall for a bit. I don’t feel like going home yet, although I must say goodbye to Mum.’
It was a mild autumn evening, but Bob spread his coat on the wall for Daisy to sit on. She looked across at the boarded-up entrance to the fairground, its twin towers a landmark for miles around. ‘We’ve had some fun in there, haven’t we,’ she said dreamily. ‘The big wheel, the skating rink...’
‘And the ghost train.’ Bob laughed. ‘You were so scared.’
Daisy laughed too, remembering how she had clutched at Bob in mock terror as cobwebs clung to her face. ‘Happy memories,’ she whispered.
Bob nodded. ‘But we were just kids. I’ve grown up a bit since then.’
It was the opening Daisy had been hoping for. ‘We’re different people now, aren’t we?’ She turned to face him. ‘Bob, I need to ask you...’
Daisy's War Page 23