by Dilly Court
She was half swooning with ecstasy when suddenly they were wrenched apart.
‘Take your bloody hands off my sister.’
Teddy’s angry voice cut through the choir of angels that had been singing in Daisy’s head. She staggered backwards as Bowman released her suddenly and grabbed Teddy by the lapels of his dinner jacket. ‘Or what, pipsqueak?’
Teddy’s face was pallid in the moonlight and his pale blue eyes seemed colourless, like those of a sheep. His mouth worked soundlessly as he struggled to free himself. ‘Let me go or I’ll call for a constable.’
Bowman released him with a scornful laugh. ‘The village bobby is probably in bed with his missis at this moment. Anyway, what would you say? Would you tell him that you didn’t like a bloke kissing your sister? Perhaps you’d best ask Daisy. She wasn’t exactly fighting for her honour.’
His words hit her like the sudden shock of iced water. A few seconds ago they had been like lovers but once again they were miles apart. She raised her hand and slapped him across the face. ‘You cad,’ she cried breathlessly. ‘You bounder. Consider yourself sacked, Bowman.’
Teddy straightened his tie, glancing nervously over his shoulder as people poured out of the village hall and some of the younger men stepped forward, taking off their jackets. He held up his hands in a gesture of conciliation. ‘There’s no need for that. Perhaps I was a bit hasty. After all, no harm done and we need him to fix the motor.’
‘He just insulted me,’ Daisy said icily. ‘He followed me out here. I didn’t invite him.’
Bowman threw back his head and laughed. ‘That’s right, Miss Lennox. Pretend you didn’t like it, but we both know the truth.’ His expression hardened and he took a step towards Teddy. ‘I didn’t shame your sister; you did by bringing everyone out here to gawp at her. Take her home now before Jed Smith decides to take you apart for getting off with his girl.’
Ruby broke away from the crowd and ran to Daisy’s side. ‘You men are all the same. Come on, miss. I’ll see you safely home.’ She glared at Bowman. ‘You and your fancy talk, Barnaby Bowman. Think yourself lucky that Mr Teddy said you’ve still got your job, but you won’t get no more cups of tea from me and that’s a promise. You’re a rotter.’ She slipped her hand into Daisy’s. ‘Let’s go.’
Teddy hesitated. ‘We’ll see you on Monday morning then, Bowman. You will fix the motor though, won’t you? It’s all been a bit of a misunderstanding.’
Bowman grinned and touched his forelock. ‘As you wish, sir.’
Daisy hurried away with the sound of his mocking voice echoing in her ears.
‘Don’t be upset,’ Ruby said earnestly. ‘No man’s worth that.’
‘I slapped his face, Ruby. I’ve never stooped so low.’
‘I doubt if he’ll be the last bloke who’ll try to take liberties with you. Not with your looks and your nice way with people, but you need a man from your class and not a common chap like Barnaby. I can handle the likes of him, but he’s not your type.’
Teddy caught up with them, puffing away on a cigarette. ‘That was a close one. For a moment there I thought I was going to be set upon by those louts. I could take on Bowman, but not the whole bloody lot of them.’
‘Of course you could, sir,’ Ruby said in a soothing tone she might have used on a fractious child. ‘But it’s best to put it all behind us now. I don’t think that Mrs Lennox would want to hear you were both caught up in what might have ended in a brawl.’
‘Good thinking, Ruby.’ Teddy uttered a shaky laugh. ‘I’d have done that chap some mischief if I’d had a go at him. I was boxing champion in my year at school. Did I ever tell you that, Daisy?’ He strolled on ahead, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke in his wake.
‘They’re all little boys at heart,’ Ruby said, shaking her head. She shot an anxious glance at Daisy. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes, of course. It would take more than Bowman to upset me.’ It was a lie but Daisy was not going to allow anyone to see the great chasm that had opened up where her heart was once situated. His kisses had been so amazingly wonderful and tender that she was finding it hard to believe he had not cared for her just a little bit. She gave Ruby a grateful smile. ‘But thanks for being concerned. We seem to be doomed to get into scrapes together, Ruby.’
‘That’s what it’s all about, ducks. We women have to stick together. Deeds not words is our motto. Did you know that Emily Davison has that on her tombstone? I read it in the newspaper before I used it to clean the drawing room windows.’
‘Deeds not words,’ Daisy agreed, squeezing Ruby’s fingers. ‘We have to fight on.’
Bowman turned up as usual on Monday morning, but Daisy managed to avoid seeing him. Although Ruby had vowed that she would not take him so much as a sip of water Daisy saw her sneaking out of the kitchen with a mug of tea in her hand. Her initial reaction was to give Ruby a good telling off, but she decided to keep a dignified silence. Bowman was just a man hired to do a job; nothing more. What had passed between them on Saturday evening had been a moment of madness on her part and almost definitely a cynical ploy by Bowman to keep a lucrative job. Perhaps he had heard the rumour circulating on the village grapevine that Lord Pendleton was paying for repairs to the Humberette. Daisy was beginning to realise that very little was missed by the dedicated gossips who spent their lives spreading hearsay and scandal. If this particular titbit of news had reached Bowman’s ears it might have spurred him on to take advantage of her inexperience in order to ensure more work in the future, or even to secure a valuable patron like Lord Pendleton. She suspected that Bowman was ambitious and would not be content to spend his life as an odd job man, but she was not going to be a pawn in his end game.
She worked hard that morning, following the recipes in the cookery book she had had the forethought to bring from the house in Warwick Square. She minced the remains of the lamb she had roasted for Sunday lunch and made a shepherd’s pie for dinner that evening, with a treacle pudding for dessert. Mother would hate it, saying such food was only suitable for the servants’ hall, but Father and Teddy would wolf it down without any arguments. Despite her mother’s constant complaints that they were almost destitute and living on the breadline, Daisy was beginning to realise that they were many times better off than the average person in Nutley Green. Perhaps it was little wonder that they had been objects of ridicule to the locals when they turned up at a Saturday night dance dressed as if they were attending a function at the Hotel Cecil or the Savoy.
She was not looking forward to her next shopping trip to the village, and she was tempted to send Ruby or Bea in her stead, but she abandoned that idea very quickly. Even if she gave her a list, Ruby would be sure to exercise her own form of economy and return with something hideous like a bullock’s head, which she insisted was a delicacy when boiled for several hours. Bea was even more unreliable and would probably squander the housekeeping money on chocolate and a selection of the luscious cream cakes sold at the bakery. But Bea was rarely at home these days as it was harvest time and she spent most of her time at the Gurneys’ farm. It was only after they reached home on Saturday evening that Daisy had realised Bea was not with them. In their hurry to escape a fight they had left her behind. Daisy had ordered Teddy to go back and get her, but he had refused, protesting that he would not be responsible for his actions if he saw Bowman again. Daisy did not believe him but there was little she could do other than wait for her sister’s return. Bea had arrived just after midnight seated on the crossbar of Jimmy Gurney’s motorbike, and Daisy had been too relieved to scold her for staying out late. After all, it was her fault for not making sure that she was with them when they left the village hall, and Bea had obviously had a wonderful time with Jimmy. Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks flushed, and it was not simply due to the chilly night air. Daisy suspected that her sixteen-year-old sister was in love with the farmer’s son. She prayed that it was just a passing fancy, a schoolgirl crush, but Bea was so happy that she di
d not want to be the one to tell her that the romance was doomed from the start. There would be a frightful row if their parents were to find out.
Daisy glanced at the clock. Ruby had been absent for a good twenty minutes and had apparently forgotten their agreement to put Bowman in his place. It was simply not good enough. She cleared the table, stacking the utensils in the scullery sink, and was deciding whether or not to go looking for her errant maid when Ruby breezed in from the garden. Her wide grin was enough to convince Daisy that she had made up with Bowman and they were now on excellent terms. ‘You can take over now, Ruby. All of this needs washing up. Mother is having lunch at Pendleton Park and Bea is out, so you can make yourself a sandwich or have some bread and cheese for lunch.’ Daisy took off her apron and hung it on a peg behind the door.
Ruby stared at her wide-eyed, her smile fading. ‘Are you cross with me, miss? I was only having a chat with Barnaby.’ She slanted a sideways glance at her. ‘He asked after you. He hoped that you wasn’t too upset by what happened on Saturday night.’
‘I haven’t given it another thought.’ Daisy tried to sound convincing, but even to her own ears it sounded like a lie. She retreated into the kitchen. ‘I’m going to the village. We need some things.’
Ruby hovered in the doorway, watching her anxiously. ‘Let me go. I can get whatever you want.’
‘No, thank you. I could do with some fresh air anyway.’ Daisy picked up her straw boater and pinned it on, checking her appearance in the fly-spotted mirror on the wall. ‘And I hope you won’t waste any more time chatting with Bowman, Ruby. He’s charging us by the hour.’
‘No, miss.’
Daisy picked up her purse and slipped it into a wicker shopping basket. ‘I won’t be long.’ She left without a backward glance. She knew she was being mean but she simply could not help herself. Ruby had the right to choose her own friends, and if Bowman was her ideal man then she was welcome to him. She set off, hurrying past the coach house with her head down. She could hear the clink of metal on metal emanating from the open door, and the now familiar smell of the tobacco that Bowman rolled into cigarettes. She quickened her pace, walking briskly towards the village. Let them snigger behind her back; she would show them that she did not care. For good or ill her family were residents of Nutley Green just the same as the Boxalls and the Smiths.
By the time she reached the outskirts of the village she was beginning to have second thoughts. Perhaps she should have entrusted the errand to Ruby.
‘Afternoon, miss.’
Daisy came back to earth with a start as Reg Smith, the postman, whizzed past her on his bicycle. With a cheery wave of his hand he continued on towards the village. She responded in kind even though he could not see her, but his friendly greeting had given her the courage she needed to continue on her way. Even so, she was aware of covert glances as she walked along the main street, but she forced herself to ignore them. She came to a halt outside the butcher’s, averting her eyes from the dead game birds and rabbits that festooned the shop front. She opened the door and went in, but the smell of blood and sawdust was nauseating and Septimus Cole, the butcher, was attacking a huge hunk of meat with a cleaver.
His assistant and delivery boy, Cyril Smith, was busy making sausages. He looked up and a slow grin spread across his face. ‘Morning, miss.’
Septimus laid the bloodstained implement on the chopping block. ‘Good morning, Miss Lennox. What can I do for you?’ His tone was polite but there was no welcoming smile in his eyes.
Daisy’s gaze was transfixed by the sight of his hands coated with blood and animal fat. The mere sight of a cut finger had always been enough to make her faint, and now the feeling of nausea was made worse by a choking sensation. She clutched at the counter for support as her knees buckled beneath her and she tumbled headlong into a pit of darkness.
Daisy gasped for breath as the fumes of the smelling salts brought her back to consciousness. She found herself staring up into the chubby face of the postmistress, Mrs Cobb. ‘Are you feeling better, dear?’
Daisy tried to sit up but was pushed back gently onto the horsehair sofa. She could feel the bristles sticking through the thin cotton of her dress and water trickled down her neck from the sponge that Ada Cobb was holding to her forehead. ‘I’m all right now,’ she murmured. ‘Do you think you could stop that, Ada? I’m getting rather wet.’
Mrs Cobb pushed her daughter aside. ‘Get back to the shop, silly girl. There’ll be customers waiting to be served.’
Ada shook her head. ‘No, Mum. They all come with me. They wanted to see what had happened to her.’ She stared down at Daisy, her brow puckered in a frown. ‘I was at the dance on Saturday night and I saw her canoodling with Barnaby Bowman . . .’
‘That’s enough, Ada. Go back to the shop this instant and tell them all out there that the show’s over. Miss Lennox is all right. It was just a swooning fit.’
Daisy raised herself with difficulty. The parlour behind the shop was small and crammed with huge old-fashioned furniture with hardly enough space to walk between the sofa, chairs and a large tea table covered in a crimson chenille cloth. A sickly-looking aspidistra blocked the light from a small-paned window overlooking the back yard and the slaughterhouse. She could still smell blood and she felt her gorge rise. ‘Might I have a glass of water, please?’
Mrs Cobb turned to glare at her daughter who was hovering in the doorway. ‘You heard Miss Lennox. Fetch her some water and tell young Cyril to ride his bike to Rainbow’s End and get someone to take her home.’
‘No, really,’ Daisy protested. ‘I’ll be quite all right to walk, if you’ll just give me a moment.’
Mrs Cobb shooed Ada out of the door. ‘You stay put, miss. You don’t want to go swooning the moment you get outside.’ Her gaze wandered to Daisy’s flat stomach. ‘I used to faint all over the place when I was expecting Ada.’
Horrified, Daisy half rose to her feet but sank down again holding her hand to her head. ‘It’s not that, Mrs Cobb. How could you think such a thing? It’s the heat and the sight and smell of blood.’ She raised her handkerchief to her mouth, taking a deep breath. The parlour was stifling and the sofa smelled as though the horse was buried deep inside. She could almost feel the hooves sticking up through the faded velvet upholstery.
‘I told you to take it easy.’ Mrs Cobb folded her arms across her ample bosom. ‘It’s none of my business, miss. I daresay it happens in polite circles just the same as it does round here.’ She edged her way to the door. ‘Rest there and I’ll see what’s happened to Ada. I’ll bet she’s forgotten the water and wandered off.’ She hurried from the room, leaving Daisy alone in the semi-darkness. Despite her discomfort she lay back on the sofa, closing her eyes. Now it would be all round the village that she was in the family way. It would have been laughable had it not been so embarrassing, and of course she would prove them wrong, but the damage to her reputation would have been done. She could only hope and pray that the gossip did not reach as far as Pendleton Park. She would die if Rupert heard the rumour before she had had time to share the joke with him.
Moments later the sound of footsteps outside the door made her open her eyes. She thought it must be Ada bringing her the water, but when a familiar figure stepped into the room she snapped into a sitting position. ‘What are you doing here?’
Bowman knelt down beside her. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Get up, please. It was just a fainting fit. I can’t stand the sight of blood.’
He stood up, a grin spreading across his features. ‘Wasn’t it a bit foolish to shop here in the circumstances? I should have thought that this was the last place to go if you’re squeamish.’
‘Go away, Bowman. I don’t need you.’
He perched on the edge of an upright chair. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. It’s lucky I had to go back to my workshop for some tools. I was just leaving when young Cyril saw me and called me back. I’ve come to take you home.’
‘I�
�m perfectly capable of finding my own way, thank you.’
‘Stand up.’
The abrupt command took her by surprise but as she rose to her feet she found herself swaying dizzily. Bowman caught her in his arms, holding her close. ‘This is becoming a habit, Daisy,’ he said softly. ‘But don’t think for a minute that I’m complaining.’
She made a feeble effort to push him away. ‘Let me go.’
‘Don’t be silly. Lean on me and we’ll get you outside into the fresh air. My motorcycle is outside and if you’re not too proud you can ride on the crossbar.’
‘I’ll walk. I wouldn’t be seen dead perched on that contraption like some common shop girl.’
‘Suit yourself, but it’s a long walk home.’ He hitched her arm across his shoulders and helped her out through the shop into the sunshine. ‘Can you stand on your own?’
‘I haven’t got my basket and my purse is in it, and I haven’t done the shopping.’ She was close to tears. She had failed miserably in a simple task that most of the women in the village would do every day without blinking an eye.
He twisted her round, looking into her eyes with a wry smile. ‘You do need looking after, don’t you, Daisy? For all your airs and graces you’re just a little girl when it comes to taking care of yourself.’
