William nodded, drawing her against his chest, and again the fact that only one arm held her caused a rush of emotion that caused her to blink furiously as she thought, Thank you, Kirby. Whatever you thought of me, thank you.
‘My . . . my injuries. I would understand if they made a difference--’
She answered him by raising her face and covering his lips with hers. When one of the nurses bustled in a few moments later with a cup of tea for the patient and one for his visitor, Daisy was flushed and dishevelled but William looked a lot brighter.
It was as the nurse left that he said, ‘And Tommy? How is Tommy?’ And then as he looked into her face, he whispered, ‘Oh, no, my love. Not that.’
She had promised herself on the train all the way down to London that she wouldn’t cry when she told him, in the event she couldn’t help it. But William held her close and that in itself was a comfort. They sat quietly after that, William holding Daisy’s hand tightly in his, and she realised just how ill he still was when he started to speak but went to sleep between words.
The nurse popped in for the tea tray at one point, whispering to Daisy, ‘Best he’s looked since they brought him in. I thought he might be getting over-tired but you stay on if you want, dear. Seems you’re the medicine he needs.’
It must have been over an hour later when William’s eyelids suddenly opened wide from what had been a deep sleep. His eyes searched immediately for hers and then they were staring at each other, his gaze as blue as the sea on a perfect summer’s day, and the sounds of the hospital ward melted away.
For a moment they were two young people on a storm-tossed beach again and life was stretching out before them, full of wonder, joy and promise.
William didn’t move when he said softly, ‘I love you, Daisy Appleby. Marry me soon?’
Daisy’s was just as soft when she whispered, ‘I love you, William Fraser. As soon as you like.’
‘We’ll never be separated again. Say it, Daisy. We’ll always be together. Working together, living together, loving. We’ll make up for the lost years.’
There was a plea in his voice, and now she brought his hand to her lips, kissing it before she said, ‘Together for eternity, darling.’
She would light no more candles. There might still be storms in the new life she was about to embrace, but William would be right beside her and they would face them together. She asked for nothing more.
Epilogue
Daisy and William founded their children’s home.
They took the little ones no one else wanted; children who carried all the tragedy of poverty and disease and abuse in their small faces. They needed warmth and food and care, but most of all love. This they received in abundance at Greyfriar Hall.
William’s two sisters took themselves off the minute they heard of the impending marriage, the legacy from Wilhelmina providing them with an allowance which covered the rent of a small town house where they could gossip with others of a like mind to their hearts’ content. Gwendoline and her new husband attended Daisy and William’s wedding; Gwendoline’s gracious attitude did not quite hide the fact that, mortified at her son’s decision, she was prepared to accept Daisy under sufferance rather than lose William. But she was civil, and as there would normally be an ocean between them that was all Daisy asked of William’s mother.
The staff who chose to stay on at the announcement of William’s nuptials to the fishergirl and their plans for the old house became co-workers with Daisy and William.
Ellen Mullen said it was the best sound she had ever heard when the grand building began ringing with children’s laughter. What did it matter that the woodwork got chipped and the imposing staircase became a clandestine slide for many a small backside? The Hall had come alive, turned into a place of sanctuary and hope. Swings and slides stood on the once pristine croquet lawn; treehouses, sandpits and a football pitch replaced the immaculately landscaped grounds at the back of the house. Daisy and William thought Greyfriar had never looked more beautiful.
In the second year of the Home’s life, the same year that saw Alf safely returned to Kitty and their bairns, a school was built where the stables had once stood and experienced teachers were hired.
At the end of this year Daisy gave birth to the first of their five children, a boy whom they named George. Two more boys and then two daughters followed in quick succession, and it caused tongues to wag in a certain town house when it became common knowledge that it was impossible to distinguish the little Frasers from all the other children at the hall. But then, what else could you expect? William had married beneath himself, and letting his children fraternise with those of common blood without any distinction being drawn between them only proved how far he had fallen.
Of course it was all
her
fault, the fishergirl’s. It was upstarts like her who had forced through the vote for women, encouraged working-class girls to shun domestic work and demand employment in offices and working places hitherto barred to them, and - worst of all - encouraged married ladies to take up careers and meddle in all kinds of things.
She had never known her place, the fishergirl, that was the thing.
Candles in the Storm
RITA BRADSHAW
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