Daisy's Wars (43 page)

‘Pretty bad, huh?’ he asked, rubbing his chin. Once it had been a discernible chin; now it was rounded, like a piece of melted plastic that had reset, but not in its original shape.
‘But at least I don’t have to worry about shaving, that’s saved me a fortune over the years.’

‘I was looking at your eyes,’ she said, still holding one hand. ‘They haven’t changed, you’re still in there.’

He took her inside the house, having obviously noticed that she was finding the heat hard to bear. There was no sign of his family apart from photos everywhere, so they must have staged a
diplomatic withdrawal after her call, making her feel like a teenager on a date. She imagined them watching from every nook and cranny in the farmhouse as she sat down.

‘So, how have you been?’ he asked. ‘You haven’t changed in, what is it now? Thirty years?’

‘Yes, sure, I haven’t changed,’ she said wryly.

He looked at her ring finger. ‘Married, I see,’ he smiled.

‘Widowed,’ she said quietly, ‘a few months ago.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

‘Me, too,’ she sighed. ‘Your cousin says you’re widowed too?’

‘Yes, there’s a lot of it about,’ he said, trying to sound glib. He looked at her for a few moments. ‘You’ve no idea how often I’ve thought of seeing you
again,’ he laughed. ‘Never thought I would, but I’ve had this little speech all ready all these years just in case, and now I can’t get it out.’

‘A speech? Why?’ she asked.

‘To apologise,’ he said shyly. ‘I remember what I called you the last time we met. It was just jealousy, you know, I didn’t mean it. I went round to the flat the next
day, but you’d gone.’

She nodded. ‘We went back to Rose Cottage then I went back to Langar – I was on duty that night. The Yank, Hal, he wasn’t a lover, not even a date, he was one of Dotty’s
waifs and strays. He’d been shot down and was really ill. Mar asked me to show him the sights.’

‘Ah,’ he said.

‘Anyway, it wasn’t the last time we met,’ she said. ‘When I heard you’d been shot down I hitched to the hospital and sat by your bed for weeks, then a weekend, till
the doctor told me to stop. Said I was wasting my time because you weren’t going to make it.’

‘They told me there had been a WAAF. I thought it was Dotty,’ he said quietly.

‘No, Dotty had transferred her affections to a doctor in her unit by then, married him before they were posted to France.’ She stopped and looked down at her hands. ‘The doctor
promised to call me if you survived. When he hadn’t after two weeks I called the hospital and they said they had no one there of your name. I thought you were dead, I’ve thought that
all these years, till I saw you on TV the other day.’ She looked up at him. ‘I just had to make sure it really was you.’

His eyes looked moist, but burns often did that to people. ‘They shipped me home as soon as I’d turned the corner,’ he said. ‘My mother got the brunt of it. I was a real
bastard to everyone for a long time, her especially because she was nearest. Then Kitty took me on, which was a real surprise, given how I looked.’ He paused. ‘Your husband,’ he
said eventually, ‘you were happy?’

‘Yes. He was much older than me, but he was a wonderful man, you’d have liked him. I think he saved my life, to be honest, he just grabbed me and took me on. I told him about you,
and he didn’t blink an eye.’

‘About me?’

‘That there had been someone else and he’d been killed.’

‘I was your someone else?’ he asked.

‘Mad, isn’t it?’ she laughed. ‘I wouldn’t admit it till you were too ill to be bothered. Life can be really strange.’

She thought of his final letter, the one that had arrived after his ‘death’. ‘And your Uncle Kevin,’ she said brightly, ‘the ice man. How is he?’

He laughed. ‘Been gone a long time now,’ he said, ‘but I did see him again.’ He shook his head, obviously recalling the last letter he had written to her. ‘I had
the feeling I was for the chop,’ he said quietly. ‘I really thought it was my last chance to write to you, and I wrote about my Uncle Kevin! Jeez! And I was a real romantic,
wasn’t I? Promised you your own ice chest! No wonder you didn’t come running!’

Daisy laughed. Here they were, she thought wryly, all these years later, and Uncle Kevin and his services to ice chests was still the topic of conversation.

‘After the war kerosene fridges came in, so he was out of a job,’ Frank said. ‘He bought the local store, made a good living, easier on him too. His son, Isaac, runs it now,
you met him.’

‘Ah.’ Daisy nodded.

‘Old Kevin missed doing his rounds, though, didn’t like being stuck in the shop, so he did all the grocery deliveries himself. Isaac was like me, only too grateful to be home, so he
ran the shop and gave his father some freedom and they were both happy.’

‘But the local children missed out on handfuls of ice chips,’ she laughed. Another silence.

‘And you have children?’ she asked.

‘A son and two daughters.’

‘I have a son and a daughter, and two step-daughters.’

There was a long silence.

‘This isn’t easy, is it?’ he smiled.

‘No, it isn’t. You can’t help thinking and wondering what life would’ve been like, you know? It seems unfair,’ she replied.

‘I thought about you from time to time.’

‘Really? Same here. I’m so glad you’ve had a good life,’ she said.

‘So why was it so difficult to admit back then?’ he asked.

‘Oh, that would take too long, Frank. Things in my life, I was pretty mixed up. There were reasons.’

‘You seemed so calm and in control,’ he smiled.

‘But I wasn’t. I wasn’t a whore either,’ she laughed, ‘but that’s how it seemed to you!’

‘God, don’t!’ he said, putting up a hand.

So they sat there, talking about the old days, about Rose Cottage and the now late Mar and Par, thinking more than they were talking, and feeling strange. What do you say to the love of your
life after thirty years, especially when other partnerships have been forged during those years? If our experiences make us who we are, then in that time and after those partnerships, is it
possible for anything of who we once were to remain unchanged?

After a time, Edith phoned, and Daisy told her to come and collect her.

Frank went to the door with her, and as she was about to turn to leave he reached out and held her for a long moment that made him shake and brought tears to her eyes. They promised to write and
that was that, but sitting in the car she felt a strange feeling that something was wrong. At first she couldn’t work out what it was, then she realised that she felt she shouldn’t be
leaving him.

‘So?’ Edith asked. ‘Details, please!’

She told Edith the whole story and almost laughed aloud at the wide range of expressions that crossed her face.

‘Well, you kept that close to your chest!’ Edith said at last.

‘That was the point, Edith, no one was getting close to my chest in those days, if you remember!’

‘We all wondered what went on during your trips to London,’ Edith hinted. ‘You never gave the lads at Langar the time of day, so we all assumed you were living it up down
there.’

‘I did some of the time, went to parties, had a good time, but mostly I went to Rose Cottage to be looked after and pampered by Mar and Par. That’s where the wedding reception was,
if you remember.’

‘And you really thought this Spit guy was dead? Amazing! What are you going to do now?’

‘What is there to do?’ Daisy smiled quietly. ‘Thirty years have passed, he has his life and family here, I have mine over there, and tomorrow I go back to my life.’ She
shrugged. ‘But you, Edith, you’re one of the success stories, you and your Aussie!’ They laughed together.

‘I remember the night he finally became Doug,’ Edith said. ‘The ENSA show.’

‘And the Great Walendo, poor sod.’

‘And Tony Hancock in a tutu and army boots!’ Edith laughed. ‘When he became a big star after the war I could never look at him without seeing him in that tutu and army
boots!’ There was a silence as the two old friends remembered their youth.

‘But you’ve been happy, Edith? You and Doug?’

Edith nodded. ‘We had a bad patch after the war, turned out he was addicted to those damned tablets they gave bomber crews to keep them awake. Amphetamines, struth!’

Daisy smiled. Edith sounded very Australian at times.

‘It was my father who worked it out,’ Edith said. ‘He didn’t approve of us getting married of course, but after the war he had heard of lots of former aircrew who were
addicted to the tablets. He got Doug help and it was OK after that. You wonder how many went undiagnosed, though, poor sods. And yes, we’ve been happy, very happy. I feel very sad for you and
your Frank and how things could’ve been different.’

‘Don’t be,’ Daisy smiled. ‘I was very happy with Peter, and Frank was with his Kitty. Maybe there’s a reason for the things that happen, after all.’

26

The feeling that there was something wrong stayed with Daisy on the journey home, and when she arrived back in Oxford she felt as though the universe had changed, tilted in
some way she couldn’t define. Jet lag, probably, she thought, half-heartedly going through the pile of mail that was waiting for her, though the bills had been taken care of in her absence.
There was one from the florist who had dealt with the flowers for Calli, Bruiser and the boys, and she wondered why that one hadn’t been paid, until she saw ‘Personal’ written in
the left-hand corner. Inside was a letter and note from the florist saying a woman had asked for the letter to be forwarded, as, naturally, they didn’t want to hand out her address.

Daisy turned it over in her hand, then her eyes settled on the Glasgow postmark and she felt her heart give a leap. Eileen! It was from Eileen, and there was a phone number, so she called it
without even reading the letter.

‘I can’t believe it’s you!’ they both said, then giggled.

‘You sound exactly the same!’ Daisy said.

‘That’s what I was going to say!’

‘I’ve got so much to tell you, Eileen.’

‘Me, too.’

‘Look, I’m just back from Australia, shall I come up or will you come down here?’

‘I spend all my time travelling these days, too! It’s a wonder we didn’t bump into each other at Heathrow!’

‘I’ll come up. When? Tomorrow?’

‘Well, you’ve left it a bit late today!’

Afterwards Daisy couldn’t settle. She kept thinking of how much had happened in such a short time, and now she was going to see Eileen again. She thought about Newcastle and, as she was
heading northwards anyway, was suddenly caught by the notion of going back to Guildford Place, if there was anything of it still standing. It had been a long time since she’d been there, 1944
to be exact, and she’d kept her eyes fixed in the middle distance until she was safely out of it again.

It was when she had conned the little American Major into providing transport to take her to Glasgow and back to see Eileen and her new baby. He’d thought he looked like Clark Gable, she
smiled to herself, and she had played a dirty trick on the little man by letting him think he was in with a chance. Then she’d put on a wonderfully wounded performance to get rid of him. At
least she should have asked him what his name was, but maybe he had already told her; she tended not to take note in those days unless their usefulness was likely to be extended, and his
wasn’t, poor little man. He probably went around telling everyone he’d had her in the back of the staff car he had purloined for the occasion. At his age the fantasy was probably as
good as reality anyway. Having a gorgeous young sex-pot on his arm told the world – and his friends – that he was all man. He had doubtless collected the nudge-nudge, wink-wink kudos
then returned to his wife in the States, so no one was harmed.

Eileen was waiting at the airport. They recognised each other straight off and hugged and cried for ages before setting off for Eileen’s home.

‘I’ve got such a lot to tell you,’ Eileen smiled. ‘Wait till we get inside.’

And once inside the house Eileen had brought her up-to-date. Her marriage had been awful; she had been unhappy the whole time but had kept quiet because she didn’t want to upset the
apple-cart. Her husband, the dreaded childhood sweetheart, had never doubted that Annie was his, but he gave Eileen a hard time because he sensed she didn’t love him.

‘He could be mentally very cruel,’ she said, ‘but I blame myself in a way. He was right, I never did love him, and that was all he wanted. When he died I was relieved. I know
that’s terrible, but it’s true.’ She sighed. ‘But so much has happened recently. I went to Normandy for the funerals of the boys. I met Calli’s family there, but I
didn’t tell them the truth about us, or about Annie, made out I had worked at Langar and had known the crew. It was awful. I just cried and cried afterwards. I kept thinking that I’d
kept Annie from them and them from Annie, if you see what I mean. They were so desperate to hear about him. You remember how the families always were when we wrote to them after their boys had
died? I could’ve told them so much but I didn’t. They’re such nice people, too, I felt like a criminal.’

‘You did what you had to do,’ Daisy said, putting her hand over Eileen’s.

‘I know, but it was wrong, wasn’t it? When I came home, things happened, it’s all very strange and sounds even stranger. Calli had the second sight, did I ever tell you
that?’

Daisy shook her head. ‘You knew better in those days, I’d have laughed.’

‘But not now?’

‘Not now. I really liked him, did you know that?’

‘Well, it was hard to tell at times, Daisy. All Fly Boys were treated with contempt on principle!’

‘He was a lovely boy in every sense, though, I knew that back then. He was decent and good. Once I turned round and he was staring at me and his lips were moving. As far as I could tell he
was saying, “Poor Daisy.” I had no idea why.’

Eileen nodded. ‘He asked me once about your family. I said they were abroad, and he said “No, they’re dead. She only says they’re abroad,” and he said something
terrible had happened to you before they died. He didn’t explain what, but it troubled him.’