Daisy's Secret (33 page)

Wandering Winnie, as the ewe came to be affectionately known, was getting on in years and surprisingly tame. She accompanied them thereafter on many such expeditions to sales and auctions for bits and bobs that they needed. Daisy became convinced that the ewe actually enjoyed these little outings as she lay quite contentedly on the back seat. One trip was to Kendal in order to buy offcuts of lino, since the original had to be ripped up for new pipes being laid for the wash basins. The friendly salesman at the warehouse took one look at Daisy and offered to deliver, even to help lay it.

Clem accepted readily, explaining how they’d no room in the old car. ‘I’m delivering this ewe,’ he said, studiously not explaining where to, or why anyone would want such an ancient creature. Daisy stifled a fit of the giggles.

Last, but by no means least, he rooted out a variety of old curtains from the attics. ‘Mam allus liked thick wool curtains for winter and chintz for summer, so we’ve plenty.

‘Oh, they’re wonderful.’ Some were badly moth-eaten, but whichever ones appeared sound Daisy washed, ironed, and hung up on poles at the windows. They at least made the blackout blinds look less formidable and brought warmth to the rooms. The bits left over she fashioned into make-do-and-mend bedspreads in a patchwork of colours. It took weeks of work but Miss Copthorne gladly helped and, in the end, Daisy felt it had all been worthwhile.

At last the day came when there was nothing left to clean or wash, nothing to cut, sew, mend or repair. ‘That’s it, work finished, all done and dusted.’

Clem said, ‘It’d be more accurate to say that this is only the first peck of work. Thee’s now ready to actually start. So until we get us first customers, take the chance to get some well earned rest. Where is thee going to find them, by the by?’

‘Who?’

‘Our first customers?’

Daisy’s face was a picture of dismay. ‘Lord, I hadn’t even given that a thought. Where will we get them from? This isn’t Blackpool, is it? They aren’t going to come wandering along the prom looking for somewhere to stay for a few nights, or book through the Town tourist office. Oh, hecky thump. And there is a war on.’

‘You’ll have to advertise.’

Eyes alight again, Daisy rushed to find paper and pencil. ‘You’re right. We’ll put an advertisement in the
Westmorland Gazette
, that’ll bring ‘em rolling in.’ But the wording had to be just right, she decided. They didn’t want riffraff, nor to make it sound expensive or beyond ordinary folk’s means. A task which proved surprisingly difficult but, tired as she was, Daisy sat up for hours writing and rewriting until she finally fell asleep with the pad on her knee and pencil still in hand.

The effort paid off as the advertisement worked. She got not one, but two letters of enquiry.

‘Oh bliss! We’re in business.’

Chrissy’s eyes were surprisingly anxious as Laura put down the phone. ‘Did he go ballistic, threaten to disinherit me and cut me off without a penny?’

‘Not quite, but he wasn’t best pleased. Ranted and railed for a bit but I managed to calm him down. Says he sent you here to bring me home, not have me persuade you to stay.’ Laura folded her arms and considered her step daughter with a quizzical frown. ‘You forgot to mention that Felix actually drove you most of the way from Cheshire, and paid for a taxi up the lane.’

Chrissy pouted. ‘I walked the last half mile or so. I needed to get wet so you wouldn’t be too suspicious, you see.’

‘Yes, I do see.’

‘Sent me as ambassador.’ And when Laura looked sceptical, added more truthfully. ‘All right, wanted me to use my unique skills to disrupt your life, and persuade you to give up. Dad’s worried about you, apparently,’ she confided, licking her fingers clean of garlic butter.

‘Whatever for?’

‘Thinks you’re having it off with someone.’

‘What nonsense! Where does he get these fantasies from? I suppose that means he at least doesn’t think I’m over the hill.’

Chrissy shrugged. ‘He’s pretty old himself, so that’s no recommendation.’

‘No, I suppose not.’ Laura hid a smile.

‘He says you want a divorce, and he’s no intention of giving you one.’

‘Does he indeed?’

‘Wanted me to apply pressure, you know, all the guilt stuff of abandoning me, making me a child from a broken home. Two broken homes actually, since I’ve already been through one messy divorce,’ said Chrissy with a hint of drama in her tone. ‘Hey, that’d be one up on my friend Lucy.’

‘Oh well, that’s all right then,’ Laura drily commented. ‘If you can be one up on Lucy, then it’s all hunky-dory.’ And then more seriously: ‘Look, I’m sorry about all of this. I’ve no wish to mess up your life too.’

‘Dad’s the one messing things up.’ Chrissy considered Laura out of old-young eyes. ‘He’s having it off with that Miranda, isn’t he?’

Laura winced, as much at the bluntness of the girl’s language as the images the words presented. ‘You must ask him that, not me.’

‘He’s a total head-case. How will that solve anything, or help him get things back on track?’

‘Sorry, am I missing something here?’

Chrissy leaned forward, dropping her tone to a whisper as if she were relaying a secret, or exchanging a confidence. ‘Dad says the business is on the skids and you’re being obstinate and cruel in refusing to sell this half derelict house, since you helped him to spend the money in the first place.’

‘I did not! He’s the one spending money as if it were going out of fashion, dashing all over the continent, and wining and dining night after night, not me.’ She almost added - and attempting to steal what is rightfully mine, but decided against it. Laura slapped a chocolate mousse down on the table and Chrissy’s eyes lit up. ‘Anyway, it isn’t half derelict. A bit run down, perhaps, but with great potential. Is that what he instructed you to do, imply he was about to go bankrupt? What else is there? Why don’t you get it all out into the open, while you’re at it?’

Looking decidedly sheepish, Chrissy shook her head, making the purple strands glimmer like silk in the light from the lamp, then gave a little giggle. ‘Actually, he didn’t tell me any of that stuff about the business, only about his not wanting a divorce. I was ear-wigging. He and Gramps were having a right old barny, trying to think of a way to make you sell. Maybe Dad really does have problems this time, I don’t know.’ Picking up her spoon, she tucked into the dessert as if she’d been starved for weeks.

‘Gramps? Are you saying my father and Felix were having a row? What about?’

‘You, mainly,’ Chrissy mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate mousse. ‘About whether or not you should be forced to sell the house and what Gramps should do about the land. Dad suggested he might like to sell that instead, and come into the business as a sleeping partner but Gramps wasn’t up for it. Said he wanted to have nothing at all to do with it, though whether he meant the land or the business, I’m not quite sure. It all got a bit muddled at that point because they were shouting over each other’s words. Anyway, something about it being a huge bind, and that he’d done his bit by trying to persuade you to see sense and go home. What happened next was not his concern.’

Laura sat looking bemused. ‘I think I’ve lost the plot. What land are we talking about here?’

Chrissy was busy scraping the last of the mousse from the glass dish. ‘Oh, you know - land. The kind you use for growing things, like that stuff cows and sheep eat.’

‘This is no joke, Chrissy, this is serious stuff. I didn’t even know that my father owned any land. How? Where? Which land?’

Chrissy dragged her attention away from the dessert dish, surprised by this revelation, eyes narrowing speculatively. She always did love a mystery. ‘Why, here of course. Where else? You might own the house, but your dad owns all of this farm land. So, are you going to sell it or not? The house I mean. Don’t let Dad bully you into it, if you don’t want to.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’ Laura’s reply was vague. She was still trying to come to terms with her father owning the land. Not that she’d paid any attention thus far as to who owned it. But her own father? Why hadn’t he said?
 

‘Is there any more?’

‘What?’

‘Chocolate mousse.’

‘No, you’ve had quite enough already. Drink your apple juice and go to bed like a good girl.’

Chrissy pulled a face. ‘Don’t you start. I’ve enough with them two on my back the whole time. The best thing about having you as a reserve mum, as it were, is that you never go in for the nagging bit. If you and Dad - you know - split up, can I still come round? Even after these summer hols, I mean.’

Laura began to clear away the dishes, longing suddenly to be alone, to have ten minutes peace and quiet to think things through properly. ‘Of course you can. You’re my step daughter and always will be. Look, why don’t you go and watch television while I wash up?’ The kitchen was as good a place as any for some private thinking, not being one of Chrissy’s favourite places.

‘Won’t you be lonely living up on this mountain all on your own?’

‘I shall be too busy to even think about it.’

‘Isn’t there any talent around?’

‘Not that I know of, no. None at all.’

‘Pity. Anyone would be better than Dad.’

Chapter Nineteen

It was one morning in early April that the letter came. With a little jump of her heart, Florrie recognised the handwriting instantly as being Clem’s, but unfortunately it wasn’t addressed to her, it was for Rita and there was nothing she could do about vetting it before it was opened.

Clem had very kindly written to say that Daisy had spent the winter safely at Lane End Farm, that she was perfectly well and they were not to worry. ‘
I thought it best that I inform you of her safety
.’ He apologised for not having written sooner but had kept expecting Florrie back any day, he explained, and then the weather had been bad so he hadn’t been able to get out for several weeks. He made no mention of the fact that Daisy had been reluctant to contact her mother, or that he’d no real proof of where his wife was staying until she’d written asking for money. ‘
Not that Florrie need hurry home on my account, if she’s enjoying her stay with you. We’re busy doing a thorough spring clean.
’ He closed by saying that Daisy was proving to be quite handy about the farm.
 

Rita’s jaw dropped open in stunned amazement. ‘Farm, what farm? You told us you lived in Keswick, in a big fancy house by the lake.’

Florrie gave a false little laugh. ‘Whatever gave you that idea? What does he say about Daisy? My word, fancy her persuading him to do a spring clean. Clem hates jobs of that nature.’ She was hoping that changing the subject would put Rita off the scent.

‘Aye, that’s our Daisy, never happier than when she’s sticking her nose into other folk’s business.’

‘Oh, I’m sure she’s not like that at all.’

‘So, what’s a top government official doing working on a Farm?’ Rita asked the question with open contempt in her tone.

‘Part of his cover,’ Florrie said and scuttled away, anxious to avoid any more awkward questions.

But Rita was not one to let go quite so easily. It didn’t surprise Florrie in the least when she followed her out into the back yard and waved the letter under her nose.

‘Are you going to explain this, or what?’

‘I really don’t know what you mean. Anyway, I would have thought you’d be delighted to hear that your daughter was safe. Haven’t you been worrying all winter about which billet she’s moved to?’ Knowing that Rita had not been in the least concerned about her daughter, nor mentioned Daisy in months.

‘Don’t talk lah-di-dah to me, it won’t wash. I’m the one what saw you with a mucky face and a snotty nose when you were little, remember? Anyroad, our Daisy can look after herself. I want to know about this farm. Is that where you’ve been living all these years? Is that why I’m still waiting for an invitation to visit this so-called posh house of yours?’

‘It is a big house. Biggish, anyway. And life is very busy. We work seven days a week,’ Florrie said, floundering for an excuse.

‘Oh, aye, but not for the government eh? Not a fine house by the lake, no grand estate but a flamin’ farm. Is that the way of it?’

Florrie clenched her fists in silent fury. For years she’d managed to keep her secret, the pretence of being well placed. Now, thanks to Clem’s excessive thoughtfulness to inform Daisy’s mother that she was safe, or thoughtlessness, depending on how you viewed it, the truth was out at last. She could spit, she could really! Why couldn’t the stupid man have kept quiet? It didn’t seem to occur to her that she might have precipitated the letter by begging for money to allow her to stay away even longer.

 
Rita, on the other hand, was beginning to see the funny side.

‘So you’re not Lady Muck, after all. Only Mrs Muck, the cowman’s wife.’ She began to chuckle. ‘Nay, you’ve led us nicely up the garden path. Letting us believe for years that you were someone important. Madame Nose-in-the-air. You made out that your precious Clem were a gentleman with a deal of brass in his pocket and all the time he’s nowt but gas and hot air? Is that the truth of it? This grand love affair turned out to be a pig in a poke, did it? Literally!’ And she burst out laughing.