by Carol Rivers
When Daisy went to say goodnight to Aunt Pat, she found her in the kitchen, struggling to light the paraffin stove. ‘I want to make Grandma a hot cocoa, but the match keeps going out.’
‘Let me help.’ Daisy’s fingers were more agile and seconds later the wick was alight.
‘This is all very vexing,’ complained Aunt Pat. ’I can’t seem to think straight. Mother doesn’t look well - and nothing works! ‘ She flopped into a chair. ‘Oh, Daisy, I’m all at twos and threes.’
Daisy turned off the whistling kettle and sat beside her aunt.
‘I’m sure Grandma is asleep by now.’
‘I don’t know what I would do without her.’
‘Grandma is strong, Aunt Pat. She’ll soon be well.’
Aunt Pat took out her hanky. ‘I remember the last time we had a storm - it was when …when I was just seventeen.’
‘Was it as icy as this?’
‘Oh yes, very. The winter of 1916 was very, very cold.’ She took a deep breath and burst out, ‘I shall never forget that winter. My sweetheart was fighting in the trenches of the Somme.’
Daisy gasped. ‘You had a sweetheart?’
‘His name was Lloyd and he was a year older than me.’
Daisy thought she knew all the family stories off by heart; she had listened to so many. But she had never heard of Lloyd before.
Aunt Pat bowed her head. ‘We did something - something very wrong.’ She wiped a tear from her eye. ‘In those days it was a terrible disgrace to love a man before marriage. We didn’t mean it to happen, you see. B … but we were young and we only had a few days together before Lloyd joined his unit.’
Daisy realised Aunt Pat was confiding something very intimate to her. She sat quietly waiting, as a deep sadness filled her aunt’s eyes.
‘Your grandfather was alive then. He was very angry. I was sent away to a special home for girls in trouble. It was there my baby was born.’
Daisy frowned. ‘You had a baby, Aunt Pat?’
‘I caused my parents a dreadful shame. Grandma I believe, has never recovered.’ A tear ran down her aunt’s cheek. ‘Little Lloyd died in my arms soon after he was born. Oh, Daisy, he was so beautiful.’
Daisy could not imagine that her spinster aunt whose entire life revolved around Grandma, had once given birth to a beautiful baby boy. Tears sprang to her own eyes. It seemed that here in this freezing kitchen where she had only ever known warmth and companionship, lingered a deep unhappiness that remained with Aunt Pat all these years.
‘My sweetheart perished in the trenches,’ continued her aunt. ‘He never knew of our boy. When I came home to Wattcombe Father had let it be known that I had worked for a short time in service for a wealthy family.’
‘That’s very sad, Aunt Pat.’
‘I don’t know what’s come over me to burden you with my secret.’
If only she could tell Aunt Pat, that nearly everyone she knew had secrets. Like Aunt Betty and Mr Calder and Elsie Shiner and Micky Wolf, and even Bobby who had vowed to join up to the airforce, which if Mother knew, might break her heart. It seemed that life was full of secrets found in the most unexpected of places.
‘I think I’ll go to bed now. Goodnight Daisy.’ She kissed Daisy’s cheek and whispered, ‘Thank you.’
Daisy sat alone in the cold kitchen thinking of her aunt’s sad story. She knew that Aunt Pat feared losing Grandma, which had caused her to open her heart and reveal the love she still had for her lost beau and baby son.
The next morning was even colder and Daisy dressed in her thickest jumper and winter coat. ‘I’ll boil some water on the Primus and take tea to Aunt Pat and Grandma,’ she told Bobby who was reluctantly climbing out of bed.
‘Do you know how to use the Primus?’
‘I helped Aunt Pat last night.’ She wanted to share with Bobby the story that had unfolded, but Aunt Pat had confided in her. Anyway, it wasn’t something, Daisy guessed, that a boy would understand.
When Daisy turned on the tap in the kitchen, no water came out. There were icicles hanging from the window. Bobby joined her and tried again, but it was no use.
‘The pipes must be frozen,’ he said.
Aunt Pat came in to the kitchen. ‘Grandma is very sick,’ she mumbled, shivering in her dressing gown.
‘I’ll go for the doctor,’ said Bobby at once.
‘I’ll come too,’ said Daisy.
Aunt Pat nodded. ‘Dr Norton lives in the lane near Mr Webber. Hurry please.’
Though they took care to wrap up warmly, when Bobby opened the front door a gust of icy wind almost blew them over.
This was a very unexpected turn of events.
Despite her shorter strides Daisy kept up with her brother. The landscape could have been a scene from one of the school’s geography books; Iceland, or Greenland, or Finland, the countries marked with a deep blue star to indicate their low temperatures.
‘We’ll take a short cut I know,’ said Bobby, heading off at a pace. The narrow lane soon became a wind tunnel, twirling around them as they ran, forcing her to stop and bend sideways to remove the stitch in her side. The hedgerows had spidery frozen icicles woven into their branches and the trees made violent creaks.
‘Where are we?’ Daisy puffed unable to feel her nose and lips any more. She looked around, not recognising any landmarks.
‘Mr Webber’s farm is close by, I think,’ panted Bobby, stopping to gasp a breath. His cheeks were bright red under his woollen hat. ‘Dr Norton’s house must be down that lane.’
‘Do you know for sure?’
‘Not really.’
Daisy pointed to a gravel path leading off into a clump of woods. ‘Could it be down there?’
Bobby looked uncertain. ‘I don’t know.’
Daisy hugged herself, trying to stop her teeth from chattering. If they took the wrong road, they could be lost for hours.
A howling gust of wind made her stumble once more.
‘You should have stayed with Aunt Pat,’ Bobby cried above the wind. ‘This is no job for a girl.’
‘Don’t call me a girl.’
Bobby blew air through his cold lips. ‘Daisy, you can be so - ‘ A loud, chugging noise drowned out their quarrel. From a rough track to their left came the familiar sight of a blue tractor.
‘Hello you two!’ Mr Webber drove alongside them. The black, smelly smoke from the tractor engine blew in their faces. ‘What are you doing out in this weather?’
‘Grandma’s not well,’ Bobby shouted. ‘We’re looking for the doctor’s house.’
‘The stove’s broken,’ yelled Daisy. ‘And the pipes are frozen.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Mr Webber yelled back. ‘Follow the track there and get yourselves up to the farmhouse. I’ll fetch the doctor first.’ The farmer revved up his engine. It gave an enormous pop.
‘I told you so,’ said Daisy as the tractor trundled away. ‘We almost got lost.’
Bobby turned his back on her.
She suddenly felt guilty. He had looked after her in the best way he could, even if he’d nearly led them on a wild goose chase.
Chapter 30
Mrs Webber gave them cocoa to drink as they sat in the farmhouse kitchen. Their wet clothes aired above them on the wooden dolly and something delicious simmered in a pan on the stove.
The farmer’s wife dried her hands on her apron and sat down on a wooden stool. ‘Now, tell me what happened?’
‘Grandma’s ill and we ran out of coal,’ explained Bobby. ‘Aunt Pat sent us to find the doctor. I took a short cut but nearly got us lost. Then Mr Webber came up on the tractor.’
‘And the stove doesn’t work either,’ said Daisy. ‘It made a loud noise and puffed out soot.’
‘Don’t you worry my dears,’ said Mrs Webber. ‘Bill will sort it all out. Now, sit at the table and I’ll dish up. Those empty stomachs of yours need filling.’
‘Do you think Mr Webber found the doctor?’ Bobby asked as he ate.
/> ‘No doubt about that.’
All Daisy could think of was Grandma and Aunt Pat; they were alone and hungry in the freezing house. She put down her spoon.
‘Now, now,’ scolded Mrs Webber, ‘what’s this? Lost your appetite?’
Daisy nodded as tears filled her eyes.
Mrs Webber sat beside her. ‘You’ve got to keep your spirits up. Your gran don’t want to see you looking poorly.’
Daisy sniffed. ‘Grandma said she’d never felt so cold.’
‘There’ll be lots like her this winter. It’s bitter out there.’
‘Will she get better?’
Mrs Webber smiled. ‘Dr Norton will see her right. Now come along and get that hot broth down you.’
Daisy did as she was told. Mrs Webber’s cooking was delicious. She only wished that Grandma and Aunt Pat could enjoy it too.
That afternoon, there was the sound of an engine outside. A gust of cold wind sprayed icy raindrops over the kitchen as Mr Webber and the doctor helped in two bedraggled figures.
‘Grandma, Aunt Pat!’ Daisy ran to hug them. She could only see her grandmother’s bleary eyes moving under her woolly hat. Aunt Pat was wearing a scarf tucked into her coat collar.
‘Oh, you poor souls!’ exclaimed Mrs Webber. ‘Take them down to the parlour, Dr Norton. I’ve got a good blaze going in there.’
Daisy and Bobby followed. When the doctor helped Grandma into a fireside chair, her eyes closed. Aunt Pat sat beside her. ‘Th…thank you everyone for helping us,’ she stammered, her lips blue with cold. ‘I didn’t know what to do. I thought we would turn into blocks of ice.’
‘And so you might if these two children hadn’t raised the alarm,’ said Mr Webber.
‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’ Mrs Webber began to unravel a pile of blankets.
Mr Webber gently took Daisy’s shoulder. ‘Come along, you can see your folks later.’
In the kitchen, the farmer warmed his big red hands by the oven. ’That house was colder than an iceberg. The pipes are frozen and the stove is dead as a doornail. If you hadn’t found me when you did, there’s no saying what might have happened.’
Daisy sniffed back her tears and looked at Bobby. His cheeks were very pale. She knew he too had been shocked at the sight of Grandma.
It seemed a long wait before the doctor appeared. ‘I’m afraid the cold went to your grandmother’s chest,’ he explained. ‘She’ll need nursing, which Edith has offered to undertake.’
‘As for you two,’ said the farmer, ‘you can stay until your parents come.’
Daisy forced back the tears.
‘Don’t be upset, my dear,’ consoled the doctor. ‘Your grandmother is strong and will be in the best of care.’
But this was no consolation for Daisy. She loved Grandma dearly and didn’t want her to be ill.
That night, Mr and Mrs Webber made up beds on the parlour floor. ‘I hope you’ll be comfortable, my dears. Your Grandma and aunt are sleeping in the spare room. A good night’s rest is what everyone needs.’
‘I’m up early to tend the cows,’ said Mr Webber. ‘To sing ‘em their favourite tunes.’
‘Do cows like songs?’ Daisy asked incredulously.
‘No doubt that,’ said the farmer. ‘They give the best milk with a dash of Harry Lauder’s Roamin’ in the Gloamin’ or Georgie Leybourne’s Champagne Charlie.’
‘Take no notice,’ Mrs Webber dismissed. ‘Mr Webber enjoyed a mis-spent youth in the music halls see? That’s why all the cows have got names. Like Vesta ‘cos she’s so sassy just like her namesake Vesta Tilley.’
‘Nothing wrong with music halls, love,’ argued Mr Webber good-naturedly. ‘Not if you’ve got a voice like mine.’
Daisy and Bobby were nearly deafened as Mr Webber bellowed out a chorus from a song called, The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze.
‘Out of the way, Caruso,’ commanded Mrs Webber, pushing her husband aside. ‘Now these should fit you,’ said the farmer’s wife and handed them sets of striped pyjamas. ‘They belonged to our children, Mark and Susan.’
‘Where are they now?’ asked Daisy, growing more and more curious about this very nice couple who had so many hidden talents and colourful family history.
‘All grown up, dear, with kiddies of their own.’
‘I’ve left a pail in the passage for you to wee in,’ said Mr Webber. ‘Make sure you don’t kick it over.’
‘Goodnight and sleep well,’ said Mrs Webber, closing the door.
‘It’s getting cold now the fire’s going out,’ said Bobby as he quickly stripped down to his vest and pants, put on his pyjamas and crawled under the covers.
But Daisy was thinking about other things. Grandma’s house would be dark and empty without them. How many icicles would grow over the windows? Like Sleeping Beauty’s castle, everything was frozen in a wintry spell.
‘Hurry up, Daisy,’ called Bobby, ‘and get into bed.’
Daisy undressed and put on her pyjamas. ‘These are much too big for me.’
‘Who cares? You’re not going anywhere.’
She pulled back the blanket. ’When the sun shines will it un-freeze Grandma’s?’
‘Not much chance of that,’ said Bobby, his teeth chattering. ‘Mr Webber says there’s worse to come.’
‘How does he know that?’
‘The cows all lay down in the field.’
‘Do cows know when it’s bad weather, too?’
‘Mr Webber says so.’
Daisy shivered and pulled the covers up to her chin. ‘I hope the cows are just tired. And Mr Webber sings them the songs they like.’
Bobby laughed. ‘Your turn to switch off the light.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you were last in bed.’
Daisy didn’t want to get out. It was so cold that even in the warmth of the parlour she could see her breath.
‘Where’s Bobby?’ Daisy asked Mrs Webber the next morning when she came down to breakfast.
‘He’s helping Bill with the cows.’
‘He must have got up early.’
‘On a farm everyone gets up early,’ said Mrs Webber. ‘Eat up now before your breakfast goes cold. That’s real oats with proper dairy milk. You won’t have tasted anything better.’
‘It’s delicious,’ Daisy said enthusiastically.
‘Cows have got their uses.’
‘I wish we didn’t have to go to school today and could stay home and help you.’
Mrs Webber turned from the sink and smiled. ‘Careful what you wish for, dear. Postie said the school is closed because of bad weather.’
‘That’s good!’ Daisy exclaimed but corrected herself quickly. ‘It’s not that I don’t like school, but I have to look after the babies.’
Mrs Webber tutted. ‘Oh, dearie me. You’re supposed to be learning an’ all.’
‘Pops was disappointed when I told him I hadn’t learnt a thing.’
Mrs Webber chuckled. ‘I remember your dad. Worked as the manager for Wattcombe estate.’
‘He’s got a factory now and invents things. ’
‘My word!’ Mrs Webber bustled about the kitchen. ‘Good job we’ve got brainy people like him to see us through the war.’
Daisy had almost forgotten about the war. It was spoken of so infrequently in Wattcombe that it seemed unreal. That was, until they’d seen the planes fly over.
Daisy took her empty bowl to the sink. ’Do you think Mother and Pops will come to collect us?’
‘Doctor wrote a letter to ‘em dear,’ Mrs Webber replied. ‘Meanwhile, there’s plenty to do on the farm. You can help me gather the eggs first.’
‘I’d like that. I used to help Mother collect eggs when we lived here. We only had a few chicken in the back garden and they all had names. One was called Queenie, because she laid the best brown eggs. The other was Princess because she didn’t. And the others - ’
‘In that case,’ Mrs Webber interrupted gently, ‘You’ve got your
self a job.’
Daisy beamed, pleased her day wasn’t to be spent looking after babies, but the hens instead.
Chapter 31
‘It’s snowing heavily,’ the doctor said the next day. ‘If it gets any worse we might be cut off from the rest of the county.’
‘Does that mean that Pops won’t come?’ Daisy asked, disappointed.
‘The government has advised people against long journeys.’ He patted her shoulder. ‘Now I must go and see your aunt and grandmother. They have a nasty bout of flu.’
Daisy had not forgotten her own battle with the flu. She had slept away three whole days and nights. She felt very sorry for Grandma and Aunt Pat.
‘At least we don’t have to go to school,’ Bobby said that night as they made up their beds. ‘Not if it keeps snowing.’
Daisy looked out of the window. Although it was dark, a bright moon lit up the landscape. ’It’s all white out there and very pretty.’
Bobby giggled. ’Even the cows have icicles on their udders.’
‘Do they really?’
‘Of course not.’
Daisy ignored the tease and pushed her cold feet into the warm blankets. ‘Can cows catch the flu?’
‘No, silly. Mr Webber says their milk keeps people healthy.’
‘I hope so.’ She fell to sleep and dreamed of the evacuees screaming and running around school, pushing over the desks and chairs. In the dream she tried to stop them, but they locked her in the cloakroom with a huge key and all the while Mrs Gardiner sat in her chair, undisturbed by the chaos. An icicle grew from her nose.
The following day the announcer on the wireless warned of the violent storms battering the country. Dressed in waterproofs and heads down against the icy wind, they fought their way to the barn to collect the eggs.
Once back in the farmhouse, they took off their wet clothes and hung them to drip in the porch. ’Put the kettle on, luv,’ said Mrs Webber as she weighed out the eggs. ‘Your brother and Bill will be in from milking soon. Meanwhile, I’d better go up to see how your gran and aunt are faring.’
