by Carol Rivers
After that, whenever he saw her in school, he drew his finger across his throat. She knew what this meant. She was for it.
‘Take no notice,’ Bobby instructed. ‘Don’t walk home without me. Wait in the girls’ cloakroom until my detention is over. Never let him catch you alone.’
‘You and Bobby can come to my house after school if you like,’ Sally Watson suggested. ‘We live just round the corner. My dad will tear Peter off a strip. There’s more than one way to skin a cat, he says.’
Daisy was horrified at the thought. ’Sally, please don’t tell your parents about this.’
‘Don’t see why not. I’ll bet Peter never gave Miss Bailey’s letter to his dad,’ Sally guessed. ‘Probably said he fell in some bushes. Didn’t want his dad to know he’d lost a fight to a girl.’
Daisy felt an unexpected twinge of guilt. What must it be like to go in fear of your parents, rather than loving and respecting them?
That afternoon, as Daisy took her seat in class, she heard a rumpus outside. The screaming was so loud everyone stood up to look through the window. By the school gates, Peter Brady had managed to get his big head stuck through the railings. Mr Potter was trying to free him.
‘Sit down,’ ordered Mr Gulliver, the English teacher. ‘Don’t leave your seats again. Get on with your work while I go and investigate.’
Freed of supervision, Daisy, and the whole class scrambled back to the window. A tall woman pushing a battered pram arrived on the scene. Two tiny infants accompanied her. Both children had filthy faces and tousled hair. Their clothes looked like rags.
‘That’s Peter’s Mum,’ someone said.
Daisy had a dreadful, sinking feeling. Had Mrs Brady come to lodge a complaint? She imagined being hauled into the headmistress’s room where she would be put through an interrogation.
‘She keeps on thumping him,’ said someone else.
Mr Potter began to protest at the assault on Peter. Miss Bailey and Mr Gulliver joined in. But it was Mrs Brady who made everyone gasp when she pushed Mr Potter to the ground.
‘Peter’s in for it,’ said another boy. ‘His dad will knock seven bells out of him. My mum once saw Mr Brady break a man’s arm. It took six rozzers to arrest him an’ all.’
When Mr Gulliver returned to the classroom his thin fair hair was dishevelled and he looked very pale. ‘Pack up your books,’ he said in a shaky voice as the bell-ringing fire engine arrived to set Peter free. ‘We’ll finish our lesson in the assembly hall where we shan’t be disturbed.’
That evening Daisy told Bobby all that had happened. ‘I thought Mrs Brady had come because of me,’ said Daisy with a shudder. ‘But it was because Peter got his head stuck.’
‘Peter won’t tell on you,’ said Bobby cryptically. ‘But he will get his own back, so watch out.’
As she lay in bed that night, Daisy tried not to think of Peter Brady. Instead, she listened to Mother preparing the spare room at the top of the house for Grandma and Aunt Pat while Pops drove to Wattcombe to collect them. If only Grandpa was coming too!
Daisy tried to recall the big, strong man who she barely remembered before his death when she was young. But instead she fell asleep, only to dream of Peter Brady and Mr Calder, and a man called Hitler and she woke with a cry on her lips.
Climbing out of bed, she stood at the window. The silhouettes of the factories were illuminated by the moon’s silver rays. The world at night looked spectacular. A million stars glittered brightly in a vast, deep blue sky that was almost black. On the water, trembled a delicate ribbon of silver light.
On Christmas Eve she and Bobby would hang their pillow cases on the hearth. By Christmas morning they were filled. A delicious dinner appeared as if by magic on the dining table. Games were played until exhaustion set in.
Then she remembered tomorrow and the Nativity play. If she hadn't interfered in the boys’ fight, she would still be singing the solo verse of Land of Hope and Glory.
And Christmas would be just like it should be.
Chapter 9
‘You’re dead!’ Peter hissed as Daisy left the playground lavatories. Miss Bailey had sent her to check they were clean and tidy before the parents arrived. Peter must have seen her and lay in wait.
She stopped, frozen by Peter’s threat. Even on an important day like this, the day of the Nativity play, he smelled like he hadn’t washed in months. His menacing eyes peered out from under a large forehead that was emphasized by his closely shaved head.
He prodded her violently in the shoulder. ‘You hear me, you little bitch?’
‘Stay away,’ Daisy squeaked and stumbled back.
‘I’m going to make you pay, now I’ve got you alone.’
Daisy felt faint. The smell of his breath was worse than horse dung. He moved closer, a grin on his lips.
‘I’ve got a knife in me pocket. Guess what I’m gonna do with it?’
Would he really hurt her in broad daylight, Daisy wondered in terror? She didn’t know if he really had a knife, but could she take that chance? Should she try to escape? Or call his bluff?
‘I … I’ll scream if you come any closer,’ Daisy threatened.
‘Who’s gonna hear you?’ Peter smirked. ‘Your gormless brother? Well, hard luck. I made sure he was inside before I followed you.’
‘Everyone will know what you did,’ Daisy croaked. ‘You’ll get put in prison for ever.’
The sloppy smile slowly left his face. He grabbed her arm. ’Prison? No bugger’s putting Peter Brady in prison.’
Daisy shrank back as far as she could against the cold brick of the lavatory wall. She couldn’t imagine a worse death than bleeding very slowly until all your blood was gone. What part of the body emptied first? Would they find her lying here on the cold earth, without even her coat on. She wished she’d taken the trouble to dress warmly before rushing out on her errand. Now look at her. Shivering like a jelly in her gym-slip and white blouse which before long would be stained crimson red.
Peter reached into his pocket. Daisy gulped. So he really did have a knife! Her head swam in circles. Her breath stopped in her throat.
‘Daisy!’ A familiar voice echoed across the playground. ‘Daisy, we’re here!’
Peter let go of her arm. He turned to see who had called and Daisy sprang forward. She ran like the wind across the playground.
‘Grandma!’ Daisy called, her heart feeling as though it would jump out of her chest.
‘What a welcome,’ said Grandma as Daisy fell into her arms.
‘Where’s Pops and Mother?’ Daisy asked.
‘They’ll be here soon. Aunt Pat and I came early.’
‘I’m glad you did.’
‘Is there anything wrong?’ Grandma enquired.
‘Not really.’
‘I’m sure the play will go splendidly. When I was a girl, I was just the same - stage fright I think they call it. I loved the school plays and belonged to the drama club but before an event I was all at twos and threes. I remember one year especially … ’
Grandma continued to reminisce but right now, Daisy couldn’t concentrate on anything but keeping out of Peter Brady’s way. How she wished the Fire Brigade had failed to release such a hateful boy. From the corner of her eye, she watched Peter slink past. Had he really been going to stab her?
Aunt Pat arrived then, a little out of breath. ‘We’re very excited to hear you sing Daisy.’
‘I’m not singing,’ Daisy moped, ‘at least, not by myself.’
‘Yes, so Mother told us,’ said Grandma with a dismissive wave. ‘But being part of a choir is just as important. Now, dear, show us to our seats, will you?’
By the time Aunt Pat and Grandma were settled, Daisy had recovered a little. She saw Bobby and another boy on the stage trying to hang a handmade star to the stable roof. She wanted to warn him about Peter Brady and waved to catch his attention.
‘Daisy Purbright, what are you doing?’ The music teacher tapped her shoulder.
&n
bsp; ‘Nothing, Mrs Jones.’
‘You are supposed to be practicing.’
‘I was just - ‘
‘Doing very little,’ Mrs Jones scolded. ‘Now follow me.’
Daisy reluctantly obeyed. But would Peter catch Bobby alone, as he had her?
The rehearsal room was filled with members of the choir. Mrs Jones sat at the upright piano and played the first chords of We Wish You a Merry Christmas. Daisy saw Nora Fudge, enjoying celebrity status. Her glossy brown hair was scooped back into a band and she wore a gleaming white blouse under a faultlessly knotted school tie.
Daisy joined in with the chorus but suddenly felt a sharp pain on her elbow. Peter Brady stood next to her. He was carrying a chair and had deliberately knocked her.
Mrs Jones stopped playing. ‘Heavens, Daisy, you are singing flat!’
Daisy blushed red. Everyone turned to stare.
‘Concentrate now. Once again from the start,’ Mrs Jones commanded.
Peter Brady skulked away, but Daisy was left very shaken. He always turned up at the least expected of times.
Once on stage, she tried to sing her best. It wasn’t easy as she tried to remember the words and follow the tune. She looked down at the smiling faces of the audience. Mother and Pops had joined Grandma and Aunt Pat in the front row. Aunt Minnie, Uncle Leo and Will were seated just behind. Her whole family were there, except Matt who had remained at the factory in Uncle Ed’s place. But all the joy had gone from Daisy’s special day.
Nora’s voice was pure and sweet and drifted tunefully into the air as she sung her solo. The audience rose to their feet and applauded.
Daisy saw her family cheering. That was, everyone except for the one person who was missing. Aunt Betty.
Chapter 10
After the performance was over, Daisy was careful to keep with Sally.
‘Can’t see Peter anywhere,’ said Sally as they walked down the corridor.
‘He might have given up,’ Daisy replied hopefully, gently rubbing her sore elbow. ‘What with so many people here.’
‘Look, there’s my mum and dad,’ said Sally and pointed through the window. ’I can’t hang about as Dad’s got to get back to the docks to clock out.’ Sally’s mother wore a faded headscarf and Mr Watson wore his rough working clothes. ‘See you after Christmas. At least you won’t have to worry about Peter Brady for the next three weeks.’ Sally grinned and waved goodbye.
Daisy made her way to the playground where Mother stood in her new camel-haired coat with its dainty black fur collar and Pops in his best business suit. Uncle Ed wore a dark winter’s coat and was in conversation with Aunt Pat and Grandma. Aunt Minnie, as usual, looked like a film star, in a flawless cream suit. Uncle Leo on the other hand, looked a bit scruffy in a kind of crumpled linen jacket. Will wore his best shorts and striped woollen jumper, though he had already loosened his tie and shirt collar in an unsuccessful attempt to sit still.
‘Seen Peter?’ Bobby asked as Daisy joined the family group.
‘I was outside,’ Daisy confessed. ‘Peter crept up. He said he had a knife in his pocket.’
‘A knife!’ Bobby went pale.
‘I got away, thanks to Grandma.’
‘From now on, we stick together. Right?’
She nodded solemnly. Thank goodness the long Christmas holiday stretched ahead! But what would happen in the new term? Bobby couldn’t be with her every single moment.
Uncle Ed clapped Bobby on the shoulder. ‘Well done, old sport. We saw you working on the scenery. And Daisy, what a magnificent effort from the choir!’
‘Where’s Aunt Betty?’ she asked, remembering the vacant chair.
Uncle Ed looked uncertain. ’Your aunt had to visit the doctor.’
‘Is Aunt Betty ill?’
‘No, it’s just a cold,’ Uncle Ed assured her. ‘Wouldn’t want to spread it, would we?’
‘Such a nuisance for Betty,’ Mother agreed.
‘Absolutely,’ confirmed Pops.
‘Hateful things,’ said Aunt Minnie with a shiver.
‘Yes, yes,’ mused Uncle Leo, who had nothing else to add.
It was Grandma who spoke next, recalling all “the good old days”. How Wattcombe had served teas and home made cakes at the Easter fair. How Grandpa had driven his cart, filled with children, through the streets of the village.
This evoked conflicting comments.
‘I remember the cart. A two-seater, wasn’t it?’
‘No, an open trap, I believe.’
‘Those two Shires were the apple of his eye.’
‘Black as night, most impressive.’
‘They were chestnuts,’ Grandma corrected. ‘His horses were cobs, not Shires. And he drove a wagon. Covered in winter. Open in summer.’
‘Yes, yes, that was it!’
‘I remember now.’
Another silence which Daisy deemed to be even more awkward than the first.
‘You must all come to tea,’ Mother eventually declared. ‘I’m sure everyone is famished.’
‘I’d like to,’ said Uncle Ed. ‘But I'd better see how Betty is.’
‘Yes, of course,’ replied Mother.
‘We’d love to,’ sighed Aunt Minnie. ‘But Will has piano practice.’
‘Not until much later,’ protested Will. ‘Anyway it’s boring. I’d much rather go to Bobby and Daisy’s.’ Whereupon Uncle Leo took hold of Will’s shoulders and marched him away.
Then, quite without warning, she saw Peter Brady. He stood by the gate with a man whom Daisy had never seen before, but was a head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the vicinity. Was this the terrifying, arm-breaking Mr Brady? Another boy joined them. A menacing older double of Peter!
Daisy glanced at Bobby and he at her.
‘Can we go now?’ Bobby asked urgently.
Daisy made the same request, adding that she and Bobby hadn’t eaten for practically the whole afternoon. But it was not hunger that scraped at her stomach like a claw. It was the sight of Peter Brady and his frightful family.
Chapter 11
Aunt Pat’s knitted stocking had grown as long as Pinocchio’s nose. An unmissable pillar box red, the toe and heel were in stark contrast, an emerald green. Daisy had been enlisted to wind the heavy skeins of wool whilst taking her turn at Monopoly and Mahjong. All games had now been done to death though currently, Bobby was failing to survive a particularly fierce round of cards with Matt.
‘What do you think?’ asked Aunt Pat as she looped off the last stitch. ‘Ready in time for our visitor tomorrow.’
‘Aunt Pat, there is no such thing as Father Christmas,’ laughed Bobby.
‘How do you know?’ Aunt Pat asked calmly.
Daisy watched Matt throw down his cards. ‘I love you dearly Aunt Pat, but only a fool would believe that a fully-grown man with a long white beard could wriggle his way down a million chimneys.’
‘Then I must be a fool,’ replied Aunt Pat with a sigh.
‘Rubbish,’ objected Matt and got up to pop a kiss on her cheek. ‘You are a very wise aunt and we adore you. But now, since Amelia is spending Christmas Day with her family, I must say goodbye.’
‘Ah, young love,’ said Aunt Pat wistfully. ‘Another kind of magic.’
After Matt had gone, Aunt Pat slipped off her spectacles. ’What would happen if your pillowcase wasn't filled, Bobby? Would you stop believing in Christmas?’
‘No, but I would be disappointed,’ replied Bobby.
‘Would you care if the milkman delivered your presents?’
‘Not really,’ Daisy said thoughtfully.
‘What if the baker brought them?’
‘It wouldn’t be much fun,’ admitted Bobby, collapsing beside Daisy in front of the fire.
‘Precisely,’ said Aunt Pat. ‘Christmas is a very special season. A family season. And we would all do well to remember that.’
Just then, Mother and Pops arrived back from Poplar. Daisy jumped to her feet. ‘Did you see Aunt Betty
and Uncle Ed?’
‘Yes,’ said Mother unwinding her long scarf and taking off her coat. ‘We wished them a very merry Christmas.’
‘Are they visiting tomorrow?’
‘I’m sure we shall see them soon.’
‘But they always come on Christmas Day,’ Daisy insisted. ‘Has Aunt Betty’s cold gone?’
‘Cold?’ repeated Mother with a frown.
‘Did the doctor give her some medicine to cure it?’
‘Oh, that cold,’ said Mother with an unconvincing nod. ‘Yes, yes, I’m sure he did.’
‘My word, Pat, what a grand stocking,’ said Pops as Mother hurried out of the room. ‘I’ll fix it to the chimney tonight. In time for the arrival of our special guest.’
Daisy gave her father a hug, reassured by the gassy smells of the laboratory on his coat. ‘I love Christmas, Pops.’
‘Of course you do,’ he agreed in his deep, steady voice. ’So let’s try to make the very, very most of this one.’
Daisy glanced up, in time to witness the expression on his face. Though she couldn’t decipher its meaning, Miss Bailey’s remark came to mind. “I fear this will be a Christmas to remember.”
Was it the word “fear” that alarmed her so? And why should it be this year that had to be made the very, very most of? Weren’t there dozens more wonderful Christmases to come?
Daisy woke early. At last Christmas Day was here. All the ups and downs of the previous weeks, were behind her.
After slipping on her dressing gown, she hurried to her brother’s room. ‘Bobby are you awake?’ She gently pushed open his door.
‘What do you want?’ he grumbled from under the bed clothes.
‘It's Christmas. Time to open our presents.’
Her brother crawled out from under the covers and dragged on his plaid dressing gown. Together they made their way downstairs in the dawn’s light.
‘It’s full!’ Daisy exclaimed when she saw the fat red stocking hanging over the hearth
