Daisy's Secret (12 page)

Daisy helped Mrs Chapman cook a small goose for their Christmas dinner, which they ate in reverent silence in the parlour with properly folded napkins, and crackers to mark the importance of the day. Afterwards, Mr Chapman insisted they play a few hands of Canasta, which he seemed anxious to teach Daisy, helping her to play the right card and hold them correctly in her hand. After that, Mrs Chapman made a pot of tea and cut them each a thin slice of Christmas cake.

‘Who knows when we may get another, what with rationing threatened in the New Year. Dear me, this war is getting most unpleasant.’

‘War usually is, my dear,’ Mr Chapman murmured, giving Daisy a huge wink, as if only the two of them could properly understand what was going on.

Daisy escaped as soon as politeness allowed, slipping next door to spend the remainder of the evening with the Marshalls, Megan and Trish. Trish had become overexcited and even Megan couldn’t stop talking about the wonders of the day, her blue eyes shining with happiness. They’d stuffed themselves with so much good food it was perfectly clear they’d never had a Christmas like it.

It was on Boxing Day that they experienced the biggest thrill of all. It was a bright, sunny afternoon, if rather crisp and cold, and Daisy was out with the children walking the dog as usual when the sky suddenly seemed to darken. Glancing up she saw it was filled with parachutes.

‘Crikey, we’re being invaded!’ Daisy stood rooted to the spot with shock. Everyone else seemed to be reacting in just the same way. There had been no air-raid siren, so perhaps even the authorities had been taken by surprise. Daisy felt overwhelmed, terrified by what might be about to happen. The sky seemed to be filled with dozens, if not hundreds of men. Is this how the war will end, she wondered in alarm, with us being murdered by Germans dropping out of the sky?

Moments later men were hitting the ground, rolling over the wide expanse of grass and, finally coming to her senses, Daisy grabbed the children’s hands and began to run. She wouldn’t give in without a fight, oh dear me no!

‘Why are we running?’ Megan gasped.

‘Will they dead us?’ Trish asked in sheer terror, her small legs pumping like pistons as she desperately tried to keep up.

‘Not if I can help it.’

And then, miraculously, out of the blue, she heard her name being called. ‘Daisy! Daisy for God’s sake stop running and slow down, I can’t keep up with you, not with all this gear on.’

Slithering to a halt she turned to find an apparition in leather helmet and flying suit rushing towards them, a silken parachute dragging behind him. Trish gave a frightened scream, yelling something incomprehensible about ghosts and hid behind her skirts, which Daisy really didn’t wonder at. This was the nearest to a ghost she’d ever encountered herself. Only Megan seemed to have her wits about her.

‘It’s that nice man from the bus,’ and pulling herself free of Daisy’s hand, ran towards him. ‘Harry, Harry! Are you in a tangle?’

He laughed. ‘You could say that, sweetheart.’

Daisy could feel her cheeks flush with pleasure. She’d found him again, or rather, he had found her.

The next minute he was standing before her, that famous grin splitting his face from ear to ear. ‘Well, this is a fine how-do-you-do. I don’t usually have to put on a parachute and jump out of a plane in order to get to see a girl. But if that’s what it takes, who am I to object?’

Daisy felt at a complete loss for words, was having trouble even catching her breath. She hadn’t expected to ever see Harry again, let alone in this startling way. Hadn’t she only recently repeated her vow to have nothing more to do with fellas?
 
Seeming to recognise her confusion, Harry took charge and started chattering away, happy to answer a string of questions from Megan about whether he had hurt himself and how he’d come to be falling out of the sky, and if he’d be doing it again.

‘I expect so on another day and yes, I’m fine, thanks. This is nothing to worry about kids, just a training exercise. Christmas or no, our CO likes to keep us busy. And he thought it might give you good folk of the Lakes a feeling of comfort to know how swiftly help could be summoned, if needed. However, since it is Christmas, what about a hot potato as a treat, eh? Nothing better, I’ve always thought, on a cold day. Or perhaps a lollipop? If I can get my hand in my pocket, I’m sure I must have a few pennies here somewhere.’

Within seconds, or so it seemed, the two little girls had helped him delve into his flying suit pockets, extracted the pennies and run off in the direction of the cart with the big black stove and tall chimney at the edge of the green, where the hot potato man had optimistically set up business for the day.

The moment they’d gone, Harry grabbed both of Daisy’s hands, holding them tight and warm in his own. ‘I’ve got maybe five minutes at best, probably less. Where are you living now Daisy? Are you all right? Are the children OK? Is there any chance that I could see you again?’

She felt dazed, utterly stunned by events. One minute she’d been reflecting, yet again, on her lonely state, the next, happiness had literally dropped out of the sky, bringing an unexpected ray of sunshine into her life.
 

He seemed to be watching the thoughts spinning in her head. ‘Please don’t keep me in suspense. Say you will.’ He glanced anxiously back over his shoulder and for the first time Daisy noticed that his comrades were swiftly gathering up their parachutes and hurrying over to a truck standing not far off. People were hindering their departure by thumping them on their backs, pumping their hands in vigorous handshakes, as if anxious to thank them for the risks they were about to take. ‘I’ll have to go in a minute. Please Daisy, say yes. I’ve got an evening off next Thursday, how would that be? There’s a dance. I could pick you up. God knows how long we’ll be at Longtown. We could get our new posting at any time.’

She looked at him properly then, her eyes focusing upon the eagerness in his young face, the anxiety in his grey-green eyes and she thought, why not? Perhaps she was too young to give up men for life, after all. They couldn’t all be as heartless as Percy, surely? And he seemed harmless enough. A nice young man, honest, cheerful, but not as handsome, nor so full of his own self-importance as Percy had been. A girl could surely feel safe with Harry Driscoll. Besides, he wasn’t at all the sort of chap she could ever go crazy about, or fall head over heels in love with. ‘All right, she said. ‘Why not?’

He gave a whoop of delight, picked her up and swung her round so fast and furious, the pair of them got hopelessly tangled in the cords of the parachute and tumbled to the ground together, all trussed up like a chicken. Daisy could barely speak for laughing as they both struggled to release themselves from the muddle. Eventually, she found both breath and voice. ‘You’re quite mad, Harry Driscoll. Do you know that? Stark, staring crazy.’

‘You’re absolutely right, Daisy, I am. Crazy over you. I love your bright, brown eyes, and the adorable way you tilt your head to one side whenever anyone speaks to you. I love every freckle, I adore. . .’

‘Shut up, you clown, and get me out of here.’ She might have managed to untangle herself if she hadn’t been so fully occupied wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

‘Oh, I don’t know. I’ve really no objection at all to lying on this grass with you, cold and damp though it undoubtedly is. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be tied up with, and would happily stay here all day, if it weren’t for the fact that I’d probably get court marshalled.’

‘Well, I do object. Stop acting the fool and behave yourself.’ But there was no disapproval in her voice. She was still helpless with laughter, her sides aching with it. He really was a card, was Harry Driscoll. Going out with him would certainly be fun, if nothing else.

Finally, and with great reluctance, he helped her back onto her feet but even then didn’t quite let her go. He gathered her small face between his two large hands and said, ‘Happy Christmas, Daisy. You’ve made my day.’ Then he kissed her. It was a light, friendly, unromantic sort of kiss but yet filled with tenderness, and strangely moving. The sort of kiss that kept Daisy awake half the night remembering it.

Chapter Seven

Laura was entranced by the tale of how Daisy met Harry again, soaking up every word. The meal was good too, a simple pasta dish, but delicious. They’d enjoyed a surprisingly companionable evening, just the two of them and talked for hours afterwards over an excellent Chardonnay, curled up on old comfy sofas before a blazing log fire.

‘It’s all so sad. Daisy couldn’t have married Harry in the end, since he was called Driscoll, and Daisy’s married name was Thompson.’

David shrugged. ‘She could easily have married twice.’

Laura’s eyes widened. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. Drat, and I was so occupied fending off my father’s anger, I never did ask him the first name of my grandfather. Did Daisy ever mention it to you?’

He shook his head. ‘Not that I recall. She only ever talked about Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. As I said, he was undoubtedly the love of her life.’

‘Do you think they married and then something terrible happened to him in the war? Was that it? Or did he leave her once he learned of her secret child, or got a divorce, maybe? Oh, I want to know so much more. What happened at the dance, for instance? When did Daisy realise she loved him? Did she ever tell him about the baby? Oh, it’s so frustrating. I want to know everything about her. I hate my father for cutting me off like this.’

‘Is that what you were quarrelling about, or shouldn’t I ask?’

Laura screwed up her nose, not sure how to respond. ‘Old stuff. He’s stubborn and dogmatic and uncommunicative. No wonder he and Daisy fell out.’

‘So this search into her past is some sort of guilt trip, is it?’ David tossed another log on to the fire and a shower of sparks flew up the wide, inglenook chimney. Outside, for once, all seemed to be quiet, the wind having died away.
 

Laura gave a rueful smile. ‘In a way, but there’s more to it than that.’ She felt perfectly relaxed here, replete with good food and wine, deliciously mellow so didn’t take exception to the question. Besides, she’d discovered that she quite liked this man. He’d been perfectly frank about his own life, the difficulties of running a farm in today’s economic climate, yet how determined he was to hang on. His uncle had left it to him about ten years ago because, like David himself, he’d remained a bachelor and had no children of his own. Beckwith Hall Farm had consumed him all of his life, as it now possessed David, leaving him little opportunity to socialise or look for a wife. If he didn’t make a fortune working it, then so be it. His needs were small, he explained, with only himself to think about.

Laura said, ‘I find Daisy fascinating, and genuinely want to understand her. But there was some silly quarrel between her and my dad, so I didn’t see as much of her when I was growing up as I would have liked. And he’s furious with me for ‘interfering’, as he calls it, for trying to find out more about her.’

‘How old were you when this quarrel too place?’

Laura frowned. ‘Maybe about seven or eight.’

‘Well, I can understand you being under your father’s control for some years after that. But you’ve been a big girl for a long time. Time enough to make your own decisions about who you see or don’t see.’

Laura felt herself flushing, feeling the need to justify herself without divulging all the complicated intricacies of her marriage. ‘True, but. . . there were other reasons why I didn’t get in touch as often as I should, even after I left home.’

Felix had seen little point in wasting valuable time visiting relatives. He’d once driven Laura up to the Lakes to see Daisy and complained bitterly about the mud which had splattered onto the underside of his brand new Mercedes. He’d refused, absolutely, to take a walk, claiming it would likewise ruin his highly polished shoes, nor would he borrow a pair of old boots, probably because they would look odd with his smart new suit. He’d also objected to country smells, messy animals and Daisy’s plumbing as well as her lack of fitted carpets and central heating. He’d never come again. Not until the funeral.

But how could she properly explain any of this, without making him sound a complete prig? Nor had she any wish to go into the fact that he’d objected to Laura coming on her own. She’d fought a battle every time she wanted to visit her grandmother so, in the end, had opted for the easy course and stayed away, thinking there’d be time to try again later when Felix was less tied up with the business and had got over his silly mood. Only there never had been enough time.
 

Explaining none of this, she confined her comments to, ‘My husband doesn’t much care for the country.’
 

‘Ah, I see. It takes some people that way. All this fresh air and space. Is that why he’s not here with you now?’

‘He’s a busy man, with a business to run.’ If David Hornsby wished to read more into that, let him.

‘Of course.’

Laura felt certain that he noted how she was avoiding his shrewd gaze. She could sense him considering her more intently, as if he’d like to ask her another question but apparently changed his mind at the last moment and offered her more coffee instead, which she politely refused. He gave a little deprecating shrug. ‘OK, so I’m nosy. Living here, one grabs gossip where one can.’ He grinned at her and made to top up her wine glass but she quickly put her hand over it.