Daisy's Secret (14 page)

Daisy realised that in a way, perhaps her mother had been right. She had indeed been far too young to care for a baby at sixteen. How could she even consider herself a responsible person when here she was, a matter of months after losing both Percy and her precious child, falling in love with someone new. Didn’t that prove how fickle she was? How she was ‘no better than she should be’, as her mother was so fond of accusing her. How terrible to have to admit such a thing, or to confess that she’d recklessly lain with a boy without giving any thought to the consequences. What would Harry think of her then? Daisy couldn’t bear to explore these thoughts any further and pushing them firmly to one side, said only, ‘No, not now. There’s no one special at all.’

‘I’m glad.’ He stopped walking and drew her into his arms. ‘If it weren’t for the war, Daisy, I’d come happily courting you for weeks, take you out and about, see you whenever I could, letting us slowly get to know each other. But who knows how long I’ll be at Longtown. Not much longer, I dare say. We could be given our new postings any day now. The training must soon be over and God knows where I’ll end up. We might not see each other again for weeks, months even.’

Her heart was thumping like a mad thing as she thought about this, about not being sure of when she might see Harry again, of knowing that he could be somewhere high in the sky shooting at enemy aircraft, and worse, being shot at, maybe even killed. Fear coursed through her at the unknown horrors ahead, waiting to snatch all hope of happiness at the very moment they had found each other.

When he kissed her, Daisy put her arms about his neck and held him close, pushing her fingers up into his hair, pressing herself against him, wanting the kiss never to end. His cheeks were cold against hers but freshly shaved and smooth, smelling beguilingly of soap and clean, frosty air. His mouth was warm and demanding, searching and exploring her own with an intensity that frightened her even as it burst open that tight bud of excitement within. She sensed his vulnerability coupled with the fire of his need, and felt an answering need in herself. She wanted him, no doubt about that but whether that meant she was in love with him, or Harry with her, was another question entirely.

This thought somehow brought her to her senses and Daisy broke free from his embrace. What was she thinking of to let him kiss her with such abandonment? Delicious though it was, and despite longing for it to go on and on, she pushed him gently away. It was far too soon. Hadn’t she suffered burnt fingers already for loving too easily? ‘I really think we should be getting home. Mr Chapman will be waiting up.’
 

Harry was gazing at her, his eyes dazed with emotion yet with a hint of puzzlement in them, not quite understanding her reaction. ‘Yes, of course, you’re right. Oh, Daisy, I’ve never met anyone quite like you. I’d really love it if you’d say that you’d be my girl, if you’d write to me - when I’m posted. Will you do that?’

How could she refuse, when he was going off to war and might never come back, when even now, despite all the sensible thoughts in her head, she just longed to kiss him again? Her throat had gone all dry, choked with emotion. Daisy told herself that it would be unkind not to write, that whatever reservations she might feel inside he deserved that at least. And it didn’t mean that she was committing herself to him, not in any way. If he did survive to return to her in one piece, and God help him that he did, there would be time enough to reveal her dreadful secret but not now, when the poor boy had enough on his plate. So Daisy nodded, her heart a vortex of hope and fear and need. ‘Oh I will, Harry. Every day.’

‘Aw, that’s great!’ He was still holding her in his arms, smoothing the curls from her cheek, kissing her pert nose. ‘So what about next week? We could go to the pictures. I’ll see what’s on. Not that it matters what’s on, I just want to be with you, Daisy, and to hold you. You must know by now how I feel about you. I believe some people are meant for each other, don’t you?’

Daisy sighed with delight, little tremors of passion running through her as he again kissed her on the mouth, a mere butterfly kiss this time but so tender she could have wept. ‘Oh, I’d like to think so Harry, I really would. It would explain everything.’ She meant that it might all have been worth it, having Percy reject her, even losing the baby if Harry could love her for ever, as she so longed to be loved.

‘I felt that way the minute I saw you standing at that bus stop, looking so lost and forlorn in the pouring rain. When this blasted war is over. . .’

She stopped whatever he might be about to say with a gentle touch of her fingertips. ‘Let’s take it a bit more slowly, shall we? As you say yourself, who knows what tomorrow might bring?’ Daisy felt suddenly afraid, realising what she risked by falling in love again. If she lost Harry, she didn’t think she’d recover half so well as she had from this other tragedy in her life.

He walked her home, pausing only briefly on the doorstep to give her one last lingering kiss to which Daisy did not respond with quite her former enthusiasm, being acutely aware of twitching curtains in the front parlour.

They said their goodbyes and she waved to him as he walked away, her heart aching for him, yet how could that be? she asked herself, a sudden rush of tears blocking her vision so that she fumbled for her key in the dark. Hadn’t she lost all faith in love? Hadn’t she sworn never to trust a man again, and it was certainly true that the coming of war, with its impetus to make and seal friendships all in a rush before the loved one was snatched away, made it even more difficult to judge which love was fleeting and which would last the length of time. Oh, why did it all have to be so confusing?

As Daisy finally found the keyhole and was about to push in her key, the door was flung open, flooding the path and street beyond with light. She barely had the words out of her mouth to remind Mr Chapman about the black-out, before he grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her quickly into the hall.

‘What do you think you’re doing, showing us all up by kissing your young man in full view of the street? Have you no shame?’

Daisy gasped. ‘We weren’t doing nothing wrong. Anyroad, who was there to see us in this black-out? Nobody, at least not until you put the searchlight on. Harry got me back by ten o’clock, like you told him to, didn’t he? It’s only a quarter to, in point of fact, so I’ll be off to me bed now, if you’ll excuse me.’

She marched away from him but at the foot of the stairs he caught her again by the elbow. Daisy could hear how his breathing was strangely laboured, coming in jerky, shallow bursts, as if there was something wrong with his lungs and they weren’t quite working properly. He’d taken off the jacket he wore to the office and replaced it with a cardigan, but he’d not removed the formal black tie from beneath the stiff white collar, firmly pinned in place with a gold tie pin. Daisy fixed her gaze upon it, hoping he would release her arm soon, for she hated him to come too near. He still smelled oddly, of stale sweat and old wool, and she longed to go up to bed and relive every moment of this lovely evening.

‘You mustn’t mind me, Daisy. I was worried about you, that’s all.’

‘Well, there’s no need to be,’ she huffily remarked.

His grip slackened and he gave a little sigh, as if alarmed by her tone. ‘You aren’t angry with me, are you? I’d hate you to be cross with me. You know I want only what’s best for you, Daisy. I want you to be safe. It’s quite a responsibility looking after a young girl, particularly one as pretty as yourself.‘

She glanced into his face and saw how stricken he was, and her anger melted instantly away. He was, without doubt, an old fuddy-duddy but harmless enough. There’d been no creeping about at night, no fiddling with her bedroom door knob or attempts to touch her in an inappropriate way apart from that time in the stationery cupboard, which had no doubt been entirely accidental, she was sure of it. He was, as Harry rightly said, a silly old cove who enjoyed her youthful prettiness.

Perhaps seeing her go out with her young man this evening had upset him, made him realise that his own days for courting pretty young girls were long gone. But that was his problem, a fact of life that he must come to accept whether he liked it or not. ‘Don’t worry, Mr Chapman,’ she said, pushing him gently but firmly away. ‘I can take care of myself, thanks all the same,’ and so saying, marched up the stairs.

Oh, but was it true? Could she indeed take care of herself? Daisy ruefully reflected. She certainly hadn’t succeeded in doing so thus far.

Chapter Eight

Laura’s morning walks became a regular routine, a wonderful way to allow the fresh air to cleanse her troubled mind, sort out her confused thoughts, and ensure that she fell asleep like a baby the minute her head touched the pillow.

She was used to spending time alone, hours and hours of it in the big empty house in Cheadle Hulme, but this was different. This was a special kind of solitude: invigorating and refreshing which brought with it a sense of enormous peace and well being. She delighted in the bloom of purple heather, the sight of a lone curlew circling in an infinite sky polished to a brilliant lapis lazuli blue, the sound of a rushing beck and she could never grow bored with the ever-changing dance of the clouds on the mountains beyond. Laura felt as if she were rediscovering the world, rediscovering herself.

As she strode out along the path she would mentally list her assets, ticking them off one by one. She was strong, stronger than Felix gave her credit for, and self willed. She was intelligent with many skills at her finger tips, and also capable of learning new ones. She wasn’t afraid of hard work. She was still young enough at thirty-four to make a fresh start. Most of all, she was perfectly capable of coping without him. It had felt marvellous simply to refuse to go home, and although nothing had been finalised between them he rang daily to remind her that he still expected her to return soon. Laura knew that he could manage perfectly well without her, for all he may claim otherwise. No doubt the miraculous Miranda would move in and cook for him, if she hadn’t already.

Laura giggled at the thought, no longer troubling to feel jealous as she speculated on whether the poor girl would be quite so keen when she realised all that was involved in being Felix’s wife, rather than his mistress.

As always after one of these self-therapy sessions, she returned from her walk feeling cleansed and light hearted, as if she had scoured off a mask of troubles, looked the devil in the face and survived. A fanciful notion but could she survive here through the aching cold of a long winter without the undoubted comforts of life that her husband could provide? Could she build a business and make enough money out of it to provide for herself?

Back in the kitchen she toed off her boots, made herself a coffee and carried it into the living room. There were surprisingly few chores to be done. Daisy had spent her last weeks in hospital during which time the house must have been standing empty but someone had stripped the old woman’s bed, washed and ironed the sheets, left her bedroom all spick and span. She rather thought it might have been David and had tackled him on the subject when she’d encountered him once in the lane.

He’d shrugged her thanks aside. ‘Someone had to do it. It was no big deal.’

In the days following the funeral, Laura folded and packed up clothes which most obviously needed to be disposed of. At first it had felt like an intrusion but she shook aside any sense of shyness since at least she cared about Daisy, and wasn’t some unknown auctioneer simply listing her belongings in a dispassionate way. She opened every cupboard and drawer, all of which appeared to be stuffed with linen and clothes which must have lain neatly stored there for years, reeking of moth balls or old lavender. Some of the linen was so beautifully embroidered, or made from such deliciously soft Lancashire cotton, that Laura couldn’t imagine ever disposing of them.

But then she didn’t have to. They would come in very handy if, or when, she opened the house for guests. She spent a couple of days making a full inventory, counting every cup, saucer, plate and table napkin, anything which might be useful in her new business. After that she gave the kitchen a thorough clean and threw away packages and tins which had passed their sell-by date. Now, there was nothing more urgent to be done than sit down and do some hard thinking, perhaps doodle a few notes about her plans.

She ate only when hungry, and then something simple like an omelette or a cheese sandwich. Nobody called and she felt quite alone in the world, free to stay in bed all morning if she so wished, or get up at dawn and walk over the mountain, or down through the lanes and fields for miles. On her return, Laura would feel so soporific that she would frequently fall asleep over whatever book she happened to be reading from Daisy’s collection. Free of Felix’s endless demands, for the first time in years
 
she was able to consider her own needs, with blissfully few interruptions.

And apart from for his regular telephone call each evening, the phone remained blessedly silent. She’d switched off her Blackberry completely, revelling in the freedom of not being at anyone’s beck and call.

As the time he usually called approached, she would pour herself a glass of wine, to brace herself, as she was doing now. The phone instantly rang, as if on cue, and taking a breath, Laura picked it up. ‘Hello darling,’ she said, as brightly as she could.

Felix, as always, came straight to the point. ‘How much longer are you going to be away?’

‘I thought perhaps you might come up here on Friday after work. If you brought some more of my clothes, we could make a weekend of it. I can’t recall the last time we spent some free time together, must be a couple of years now. And the weather is glorious, you’d love it.’ She could then choose her moment to reveal her plans and talk through their problems in a civilised fashion.