by June Tate
‘So are we making any money?’ she asked Grace.
‘Enough. We are paying our suppliers on time, covering our costs and paying back a little of the money put up to finance the business, so by the end of the year we should do a little more than break even and next year should see us in profit.’
At that moment the expected client came into the shop for her fitting. She was one of the new brigade of customers. Her eyes lit up when she saw Daisy.
‘I read in the paper that they let you out!’ she declared with the utmost glee. ‘Wait until I tell my friends I met the murderess herself!’
Daisy froze for a moment and then she said, ‘I am so happy that I have enlightened your day, madam. I was looking at your gown in the workroom. I’ll get one of the girls to cut away the extra material on the skirt because you wouldn’t want me to approach you with a pair of scissors in my hand, would you?’ She stood in front of the woman and stared at her.
The woman went white as if the blood had drained away from her and her eyes widened with shock. Daisy smiled at her, then walked out of the room.
Grace followed her, chuckling. ‘That was very naughty of you,’ she said, ‘but the bitch deserves it.’
Daisy looked at Grace and grinned broadly. ‘Sorry, couldn’t resist it, but believe me she would have got a thrill from it and no doubt will dine out on it for months.’ She burst out laughing. ‘Oh Grace, you have no idea how much I’ve learned about human nature these past months. I used to think my reputation would ruin my business, but you know, in some perverse way it might just improve it!’
During the weeks that followed, Daisy got used to the stares and nudges of people who recognized her when she went into a shop. She ignored the whispers as she passed and just smiled. In time, the clients that had left returned one by one after discovering that they couldn’t find the expertise in the stitching or the fashionable style elsewhere. When Daisy attended any of them, she was polite and made no mention of their return.
‘Good morning, Madam,’ she would say. ‘How nice to see you. Now what can I do for you?’ And so the clients were not embarrassed.
Her name was once again in the local news when Flo Cummings was up before the court, charged with living off immoral earnings. Although Daisy wasn’t called as a witness, the previous facts of her being one of Flo’s girls, and the consequences, were again mentioned.
‘Is there to be no end to all this?’ Daisy cried as she read the paper in the reception area of her shop.
‘Try not to get upset about it, Daisy,’ urged Grace who was counting the day’s takings. ‘It was bound to happen, Edward did warn you.’
‘I know, but to be truthful, I’d forgotten. It’s just that at last people were beginning to forget my past and accept me, but now it’s shoved down their necks once again. And then there’s my poor mum. The neighbours will be having a good gossip behind their damned curtains. They’ve only just stopped twitching them every time I walk into the house.’
‘Your mother will cope don’t you worry. Let’s face it; you’ve both been through worse. Anyway, Flo will be the main topic of conversation, not you.’
Daisy couldn’t help but grin. ‘You know I thought she was such a friend, but all I was to her was a little gold mine.’ And she started to laugh.
‘What is it?’
‘I know one person who will be delighted by the turn of events.’
‘And who might that be?’
‘The wife of the landlord of the White Swan. Flo was his mistress for years and his wife and Flo both used to get their gowns made at Madam Evans. We had to be careful they weren’t booked in for fittings at the same time. She hated Flo and chose the most expensive material in the shop, making her husband pay through the nose.’
Bertha Grant was sitting reading about the case in the local paper with a broad smile. ‘Serves the bitch right!’ she muttered under her breath. ‘I hope they send her down for a long stretch.’ She thought she might take herself along to the court tomorrow and see for herself what was happening. How she would enjoy watching Flo standing in the dock. Nothing would give her greater pleasure and how she would crow about it to her husband. Oh my, vengeance was sweet!
The following morning, Bertha dressed in her finest outfit and most stylish hat, extravagantly trimmed with feathers, and made her way to the court, finding a seat in the front of the public gallery. She found the proceedings most interesting and was absolutely delighted when Flo Cummings at one time glanced up at the public gallery and saw her sitting there. The look on the woman’s face was a thing to behold. First the surprise, then the anger tinged with embarrassment. Bertha just raised her eyebrows and cast her a look of utter disdain. It was better than a night at the theatre and when Flo was sent down for two years, Bertha could hardly contain her pleasure. And she made her feelings very clear when she returned to the White Swan.
‘You’re all dressed up this morning,’ her husband Jim remarked. ‘Been somewhere special?’
‘You could say so. I’ve been sitting in court watching your doxy go down for two years!’ She couldn’t hide the smile of satisfaction. ‘She’ll have no use for the expensive gowns you bought for her in there!’
‘You really are a first-class cow, Bertha.’
‘At least I don’t live off immoral earnings.’
‘That’s quite true, and I’m certain you have never had an immoral thought in your head; if you had, you might be more satisfying in the bedroom!’ With that stinging remark, he walked out of the room.
All of Bertha’s feeling of euphoria was destroyed. It was as if she’d received a blow to her solar plexus. She’d never found sex to be anything but a duty, but her shortcomings put in so many words was hurtful and demeaning. And of course she couldn’t deny it was because of her lack of enthusiasm that Jim had turned to Flo Cummings … a thoroughly immoral woman! And now she wondered, without his mistress, would her husband find another to take her place? She took the hatpin out of her hat, which she threw across the room in anger. The pleasure she had wallowed in so much this morning, was now gone.
When Daisy heard of the verdict handed out to Flo Cummings, she felt no sympathy. She’d played with the law for so long and so successfully, but at last it had caught up with her. The club was closed, the girls dispersed to wherever. She thanked God that Harry had found work elsewhere and Stella had her cafe on the Isle of Wight; as for the others, they would drift off to another establishment or take to the streets. They – like her – would have to get on with their lives as best they could. And if they had saved their money as she had, they might be able to start a new life, out of the same business, because Daisy couldn’t honestly believe a woman became a whore by choice. How could they?
Twenty-Seven
A few days later, Daisy had slipped out of the shop to buy a certain shade of cotton, when she saw a man coming towards her in army uniform, walking with a crutch. She was surprised to recognize Jack, her former boyfriend. She was even more surprised at his icy reception when she greeted him.
‘Jack! How lovely to see you, my but you look as if you’ve been in the wars.’
‘Hello, Daisy,’ he said with a distinct coolness in his voice. ‘I was wounded a couple of months back, but I’ll soon be fine. I read all about you in the local paper.’ He looked at her with disdain. ‘How could you sell yourself like that? I couldn’t believe that you became one of Flo Cummings’ girls. You should have listened to me when I told you to give up working as a barmaid in the Solent Club, then you would never have had to face a jury charged with murder!’
Her back hackles rose. ‘You forgot to mention that I was found not guilty! You’ll never understand, Jack, and I am certainly not going to stand here and make excuses for my behaviour. Get well soon.’ And she strode away, head held high. Pompous ass, she thought. How high and mighty he did sound. She didn’t have to answer to him or anyone! But his cruel remarks had hurt her. This would be the way all men would think of her, and there was l
ittle hope of her having any kind of relationship with the opposite sex. No man would want to marry her knowing that other men had known her intimately and that she’d killed a man even if it was in self-defence. Oh well, if that was the price she would have to pay – so be it. She at least had her career. That was something. She didn’t tell Grace of her encounter when she returned. She would put it behind her along with everything else in her life that was unpleasant.
Vera too had suffered a backlash from her friends after Daisy’s case came to court and she had given up most of them. So many voiced their distaste over Daisy’s way of life and Vera had met all of this with anger as she defended her daughter and when Flo’s case was written of in the paper, she again met the stares of her neighbours with contempt. They all were entitled to their opinion as long as they kept it to themselves. But she did wonder if Daisy would ever meet a man who could see beyond the scandal and love the girl for who she was, a girl with a good heart. She hoped so, but deep down, she doubted it. She of course kept such thoughts to herself.
With more time on her hands now, she took in more work for Daisy. She was a fine needlewoman and her work was much appreciated and admired by Daisy’s workforce and the clients. It meant that Vera was earning more money and that gave her independence. It was good for her that she wasn’t entirely dependent on her daughter for every penny. They did however depend on each other for company. At the end of the day Daisy would come home, tired after a long day and the two of them enjoyed their time together. The difficult past brought the two closer and they were a great comfort to each other.
‘We’re like a couple of old maids, Mum,’ said Daisy one evening. ‘All we need is a couple of cats!’
‘Not bloody likely!’ Vera exclaimed. ‘Think of the hair and what if they clawed at my sewing.’
Daisy laughed. ‘I was only joking, Mum.’
They decided to go to the Palace of Variety on the Saturday evening, to give themselves a treat. It was a good programme with jugglers, a sword swallower, a comedian and finishing with a singer. It lifted their spirits and they came out of the building talking about the acts, when Daisy saw two men in naval uniform. As they turned, she saw one was Steven Noaks. He stopped when he saw her and came over to them.
‘Daisy!’ He smiled and said, ‘How lovely to see you.’
She introduced her mother and he introduced his friend. ‘We’re just going for a drink,’ said Steven. ‘Would you two ladies care to join us?’
Daisy glanced at her mother, who shrugged. ‘Thank you, Steven, we’d like that.’
The four of them sat in the saloon bar of the nearest hostelry. Steven’s friend was in deep conversation with Vera and Steven gazed fondly at Daisy.
‘You are looking well.’
‘Thanks. How long have you been in port?’ she asked.
‘We docked this morning and decided we were in need of some entertainment other than the pub. How are you?’
‘Fine now,’ she said hesitantly, not knowing how much he knew about her arrest.
‘I read about you in the papers just as we sailed. I was so sorry to hear of your troubles. It must have been dreadful for you.’
‘It was, but I really don’t want to talk about it, Steven. I’m trying to put it all behind me. I’m working hard and I’m happy to say the business is holding up. My unsavoury reputation doesn’t seem to have done too much harm, I’m happy to say.’ She gave a wry smile, remembering how he left her the last time. How he kissed her passionately then walked away. She’d not heard a word from him since and she wondered how much her reputation had changed things between them.
The two men walked them home but declined a cup of coffee or tea.
‘Sorry, Daisy, but we are on night duty in an hour,’ Steven explained, ‘but I’ll be in touch.’ He kissed her on the cheek, shook hands with her mother and said goodnight.
Once inside the house, Vera made a pot of tea. ‘Nice couple of blokes,’ Vera said as she poured the hot beverage.
‘I didn’t know the other chap,’ Daisy said, ‘but I knew Steven from the Solent Club. He’s a nice man.’
Just how well did Daisy know him? Vera couldn’t help but wonder, but she said nothing more and the conversation about the men ended.
Bert Croucher was at a loose end. Now that the Solent Club had closed, he’d had to find another venue in which to spend his Saturday evenings. He’d tried the Horse and Groom in East Street, but it was rowdy on a Saturday with the inevitable fights breaking out. It was also the favourite drinking spot for the local ladies of the night. At least here he was free to pay for their services, unlike the Solent Club where he was barred from using the whores. But he still lusted after Gloria, or Daisy Gilbert as she was he learned after reading about the murder of his old mate.
He knew all about her business and how talented she was and she seemed to be doing well. She wouldn’t be interested in him; she’d made that quite clear. Well he was doing very well himself in the butcher’s shop. He could even afford a wife if he so wished. Daisy Gilbert wouldn’t be interested in him as a punter, but how would she react to an offer of marriage? It was respectable and she would share his bed as Mrs Bert Croucher. He smiled to himself and thought after all, no ordinary decent man would want her after the Solent Club. Well he didn’t mind that at all, which made him quite special, he mused. Yes, he wasn’t a bad catch; he could provide a home, money for clothes, and a good living too. After all, he wasn’t a bad-looking bloke; he dressed well, and what more could a girl ask for – especially one who had been a prostitute.
On Wednesday, his half day, Croucher had a bath, went to the barber’s for a haircut, picked up his best suit from the cleaners and prepared to propose to Daisy Gilbert. On the way to her shop, he bought an extravagant bunch of flowers. He arrived just as she was closing.
Bert opened the door of the shop and entered. He was taken aback by the classy interior, the beige carpet, chairs covered in velvet, and a small desk. It was simple but tasteful. He began to feel a little out of his depth. The well-dressed woman behind the desk spoke.
‘Good afternoon, sir. Can I be of help in any way?’
Blimey! He thought, what a classy bird, so well spoken. Daisy had really come up in the world. ‘I would like a word with Miss Gilbert, please.’
‘And who shall I say wants to see her?’
With a coy smile he said, ‘If you don’t mind I’d like to make it a surprise.’
Grace rose from her seat and walked into the workroom. ‘Daisy, there’s a gentleman bearing flowers in reception wanting to see you. He won’t give his name; he says he wants to surprise you.’
Daisy immediately thought it was Steven and rushed into the reception. When she saw her visitor, she froze to the spot.
Bert Croucher rose somewhat awkwardly from the chair which seemed lost beneath his large frame.
‘Hello, Daisy,’ he said. ‘I bought these for you,’ and thrust the flowers at her.
She had no choice but to take them, but she looked at him very warily. ‘Thank you.’
For a man who could look menacing, Bert was unusually shy. ‘I expect I’m the last person you expected to see,’ he ventured.
‘Yes, I was surprised. What can I do for you?’ Her mind was racing. What on earth was he doing here? And where the hell was Grace?
Grace was in the workshop, thinking she would give her friend some privacy.
‘I don’t suppose we could go somewhere where we could have a private conversation?’ he asked.
Daisy was horrified at the thought. She was afraid of this man and no way on earth would she be alone with him.
‘I’m sorry but we are very busy at the moment,’ she quickly replied, ‘but there isn’t anyone here at the moment.’ She glanced behind her but the door to the workroom was closed.
Bert Croucher cleared his throat. ‘Well, Daisy, I wanted to offer you a home.’
She was completely puzzled by this. ‘But I have a home.’
�
�I know that. I mean a home with me – as my wife?’
He looked at the shocked expression on her face. ‘I know this offer will come as a complete surprise to you, but I’ve been thinking. As you are aware, I’ve always fancied you, and I thought if you agreed I could make an honest woman of you. After all I doubt you’ll get an offer of marriage from any man after your past … but I don’t mind that!’ He hurried on now he’d started. ‘I can provide for you, Daisy. My business is doing well; you’ll have plenty of money for housekeeping and a good allowance for clothes. I’ll take care of you. What do you say?’ He stood before her with a satisfied smile, pleased with himself. Certain that she would see his point of view – and be grateful to him.
Daisy Gilbert was shaken to the core. Who did Bert Croucher think he was speaking to her in such a condescending manner as if he was saving her from herself? But she also knew that this man could be dangerous and she would have to pick her words carefully.
‘Thank you for the flowers, Mr Croucher, and for your offer of marriage, but I must refuse. I am running a successful business as you are and I do not plan to marry any man. I shall remain a spinster and be happy to do so.’
This was not the response he was expecting at all.
‘But there is no need for you to be a spinster. I’ll happily take you on,’ he said angrily.
Daisy could feel her own anger rising. ‘I don’t want to be “taken on”, thank you very much,’ she snapped.
‘Now you listen to me, girl,’ he began.
Her eyes blazing, Daisy interrupted him. ‘No, you listen to me! I’m sure you meant well, but I don’t want to be your wife, now is that quite clear?’
His demeanour changed. His eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened. ‘You’ll get no better offer. No man will want you as his wife with your past; I was prepared to overlook that.’