The Daisy Club

by Charlotte Bingham

  There was no point in Alec trying to make his way across London immediately. Instead he stayed down in the Underground, trying to enjoy the people, trying not to realise that he was no longer used to crowds, trying not to see what some of them were doing, trying to endure the smell, which was a hundred times more intrusive than the smell from a cow’s stall or pigsty.

  Once the all-clear sounded, he walked to Miss Daisy’s basement flat, to which Branscombe had given him a key. He found the house eventually, by dint of asking anyone and everyone, and was at last able to turn the key in the latch, all the while not quite knowing what to expect. He had never been in this part of London before, and although the buildings were bombed, and the streets filled with troops and police, it seemed to him, as he asked for directions, that the whole of a very sophisticated world was being offered up to him. The people were so different from those with whom he had grown up, not just their voices, but their faces. He pushed the basement door open. Inside the flat the blackout was in place all right, and it was as dark as he had expected – which made it all the more startling when he realised that there was someone else inside, someone there ahead of him. He caught his breath as a voice spoke out of the darkness.

  ‘Sign in!’

  Daisy flashed a torch at him, before quickly shutting the door, and putting on a very small low-watt bulb.

  ‘Miss Daisy!’

  Daisy grinned. There was no other word for it.

  ‘Yup, this is Miss Daisy, Alec, and this is my club, and you ain’t going no further, young man, without signing yourself in.’

  Daisy opened the visitors’ book and pointed one elegant finger at the last name there.

  ‘Sign there, Alec Lindsay!’ She stopped suddenly, staring at the last signature. ‘Laura – Miss Laura – signed in before you. Oh, and she has left me a nice little note, too.’

  Darlingest Daisybags,

  So sweet of you to say we could all return to the Daisy Club whenever we wanted. I have spent a wonderful night under the table, until the all-clear, and then a blisskins sleep on your ducky little sofa, and now I am off down to Twisters to see the other members of the Club, but meanwhile I send you love and thanks from your now really rather Froggy little friend – safely returned!

  Daisy finished reading the note, put Alec into her bed, shared some chocolate with him – he had never had it before, bless him – and then settled herself down on the sofa to try to sleep. That sleep would not come was nothing to do with the comfort, or not, of the sofa, but everything to do with the realisation that David had signed his name in the book when he was last at the flat with her, Daisy.

  She went to stand up, and then realised that the flat was so small she wouldn’t be able to take more than five strides, and anyway she didn’t want to wake Alec. She sat down again. If Laura had come here, Laura must have seen David’s signature in the visitors’ book. She just must have. Daisy lay back in the chair. She would have to tell her. Most of all she would have to tell her because she had heard from David for the first time in ages, only a few hours earlier. He was still alive, and wanted to see her again. Had to see her again, but fretted that she might not want to see him. Daisy did want to see him, but not before she had spoken to Laura.

  The following morning Daisy insisted on taking Alec back to his home. It was a devastating sight, but the clearing-up of the street had obviously been going on for some time. She left Alec silently staring at the remains of his parents’ house, and went to talk to some of the neighbours, the lucky ones who had escaped a direct hit, and who were now helping to clear the street of the remains of the unlucky ones. All the living told Daisy that they were determined to cling on to their homes, despite the lack of water, the lack of anything, really. They were still defiant, and unable to leave all that they loved, all that they had worked for.

  Alec remained standing in front of the rubble that had once been his home, struggling not to show his feelings, his throat working as he realised just what had happened. He was biting on his fist, really biting, when he heard footsteps behind him, and looked round. It was one of his parents’ oldest friends.

  ‘’Ere, Alec Lindsay, isn’t it?’ Alec shook the hand held out to him. ‘I wouldn’t have known you from Fred Astaire, you changed that much, young man.’

  He stood back, taking in Alec’s grown-up height, his whole demeanour, which gave Alec much-needed time to pull himself together.

  ‘You’ve changed into a proper toff, you have! Look at you! Riding boots and all! Come with me, I’ve got something for you, my lad, something that will please you, too. A proper treat I have in store for you. My, but my missus won’t half be glad to see you. She won’t half. Come on, put your best foot forward, lad.’

  It was Daisy’s turn to look round. Alec? Alec? Where was he?

  She walked rapidly down the street, calling out, stopping people, asking. They pointed to a house further up, the end-of-terrace house always so prized by those who lived in a row.

  ‘In there!’

  Daisy stopped by the gate, or rather by the half-gate, and then, seeing Alec by the door, she made a pretence of shutting it, despite it not being anything more than a few pieces of wood swinging off a hinge. She did it so smartly that Alec burst out laughing, but when Daisy saw who was standing beside him, she started to cry.

  ‘You’re not to tell Aunt Maude I blubbed. If she finds out she’ll kick me out again, truly, she will.’

  Daisy said this as the car turned into what had once been the long drive up to the Hall. They had driven back to Twistleton through a rain-storm, two security checks and a hail of bullets – it was the new Nazi pastime to fly low and shoot at civilians.

  They had given two VAD ladies a lift, not to mention a very old member of the ARP, a kindly gesture which Daisy had soon regretted.

  ‘Everything’s initials now, isn’t it?’ he had said, grumbling. His whole personality had been infused with a sort of strange, suppressed boredom. ‘People too lazy to pronounce anything any more.’ He then proceeded to pronounce on everything from the conduct of the war to the black marketeers, and always in such a tired voice, as if he had quite given up on everyone else, for the good reason that they were not like him.

  But that was before Daisy, all too used to identifying the sound of enemy aircraft, had driven off the road, and shouted at them to get out of the car.

  And hadn’t she been right? Bullets had indeed rained down from the returning German bombers, but happily, not on them.

  After that, the elderly gentleman had not been at quite such pains to appear bored. In fact he had shut up, which was just as well, for if he had not, Daisy thought she might have chucked him out of the car.

  Anyway, come hell or high water, and they had enjoyed a little of both, here they were at last, creeping up the drive to the steps of the Hall.

  Before Daisy even had time to pull on the handbrake, Freddie and Branscombe and Aunt Maude were out on the top step to greet them, little Ted beside them. In fact everyone and anyone who could was standing behind them. Tom and Dick, on hearing the motor car arriving, ran from the side of the house.

  ‘Johnny, Johnny, Johnny is back!’ they all shouted, and laughed, and then shouted some more – and laughed some more, too.

  Later Daisy explained that the Lindsays’ neighbours, knowing that Johnny had been scooped up by the Red Cross, had taken him in, while all the time hoping that the rest of the family would contact them.

  In spite of all the jubilations going on around him, Johnny was silent, while allowing any number of people to embrace him, allowing them to even kiss him. He himself even kissed little Ted, and patted the dogs, of course, but it wasn’t until he was with Branscombe in the kitchen that he finally spoke, holding up a small brown paper package that he had clutched all the way from London.

  Branscombe watched him.

  ‘What’s in that when it’s at home, then, Johnny?’ he finally asked, as he handed him a piece of pastry he had baked for his return.r />
  Johnny gave Branscombe a sage look, and as he did so Branscombe noted that he now looked older than his years, as he would do after all he had been through, but he seemed strangely satisfied, too, as if something in which he had believed had come true.

  ‘The train Miss Maude gave me, see, Mr Branscombe, she were right, see?’

  ‘Miss Maude is often right, young Johnny.’

  Johnny held up the toy train given to him by Maude.

  ‘She said it would bring me back, and, see – it did.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Branscombe’s expression was immovable, stubborn, and intransigent, all at the same time.

  ‘You will have to go and tell Miss Maude, Miss Freddie. You will have to go and tell her that this chap wants to marry you, and after only seeing you twice. It is not for me to say, but it does seem a bit precipitous, even for wartime.’

  Freddie’s expression was not unlike Branscombe’s.

  ‘I don’t see why. I just don’t see why it is precipitous. Why, only the other day I read of a couple who met on a train, fell in love instantly, got off at the next stop, and went straight to the registry office and got married.’

  ‘The train must have taken a long time between stations, and doubtless had a stop or two in tunnels, too.’

  Freddie stared round at Daisy, who pulled a face, not quite knowing where she might fit into the conversation, if at all.

  ‘It is just the way it is done at the Hall, Miss Freddie.’

  ‘But I’m not a Beresford. If I was, well, I would have to go and tell Miss Maude, or ask her for permission to marry, but as I am to all intents and purposes an orphan, and over twenty-one, I don’t see why it is necessary, really I don’t.’

  Branscombe’s expression remained unchanged.

  ‘Do as you like, Miss Freddie, as you always do, but the truth of the matter is that you are at the Hall, and here things are done differently. It is only good manners, after all, Miss Maude acted in loco parentis when you were an orphan and a minor.’

  Daisy and Freddie retreated to the flat. It was still bitterly cold, even though it was meant to be spring.

  ‘I don’t see why you have to tell Aunt Maude you want to marry Ben what’s-his-face,’ Daisy said, pouring them both a gin. ‘I mean to say, she’s not your mother, and you’re only here for the duration. Once the war’s won, you’ll be off like a shot. Branscombe’s being a bit stuffy, surely?’

  ‘Both Branscombe and Miss Maude, they’ve both been a bit preoccupied lately,’ Freddie went on. ‘There’ve been a great deal of coming and goings, ever since young Johnny came back. Something’s up, although what, I wouldn’t know.’

  ‘Now I’m based so much nearer, I can help you out here, you know, with everyone. All hands to the pump, and all that. And God knows you need all hands with that pump out there.’

  Freddie shook her head.

  ‘No, you stick to your planes, you’ll only be an extra mouth to feed,’ she said, straight-faced. ‘And really, we could do without that, and you. We can manage, we have done, and we will go on, until this bloody war is over! Excuse my English . . .’

  Daisy laughed, and then decided to bite on the bullet, probably the effects of the gin.

  ‘Freddie, I have to tell you something. I have done something pretty dreadful.’

  Freddie put her hand up, after gulping her gin too quickly.

  ‘Don’t tell me any secrets, don’t tell me anything. I am hopeless, I will only come out with it, and ruin everything.’

  ‘I slept with David Moreton,’ Daisy burst out.

  Freddie wanted to say ‘Is that all?’ But she knew that it would not be the right thing to say, so she just stared at Daisy, not really understanding, and then the penny dropped.

  ‘You mean David Moreton. David Moreton? The David Moreton that Laura was in love with?’

  ‘Yes. That David Moreton.’

  Daisy nodded, while at the same time finding she was unable to look Freddie in the eyes. And when she could, eventually, she saw that Freddie was not as shocked as she should be.

  ‘I have to tell Laura, don’t I?’

  Freddie shook her head, appalled.

  ‘No, you do not have to tell Laura anything. Do not even attempt to tell Laura anything.’

  ‘But she must know, anyway, because David signed his name, silly fellow, in the visitors’ book in London. He signed his name.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So Laura must have seen it, because she has been staying at the flat, off and on.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And, well, it is pretty obvious.’

  Freddie leaned forward, and smacked Daisy lightly on the hand.

  ‘That is for being so stupid. Why do you want to tell Laura something that she doesn’t want to know, wouldn’t want to know? Is it because you are thinking of her? No, I suggest, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, that you want to tell Laura because it will make you feel better, and for no other reason.’

  ‘But what if she finds out? She is bound to find out.’

  Freddie gave Daisy a vaguely maternal look. Daisy was very beautiful, and very brave, and very, very silly.

  ‘If you are intent on getting married to David—’

  ‘Or he to me—’

  ‘Then there is no need to tell Laura when you and he met. It is of no matter. Frankly, when all is said and done, not only doesn’t it matter, but it is none of her business. Besides, Laura forgot about David aeons and aeons ago, she is on to fresh fields, and certainly pastures new.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘How I mean is, silly, Laura wrote to me – I’ll find the letter for you – she has met the love of her life, but she is going to have to wait for him, because he is not in England, and not an Englishman. (It somehow got through the censor, which was a miracle, don’t you think?) So, where was I? Oh yes, so why would she now care a threepenny damn if you’re going out with David what’s-his-face, or anyone else, for that matter? She has a new love in her life, and it is the only one that now matters.’

  Daisy could have burst into tears with relief. Instead she lit a cigarette.

  ‘Are you sure of this?’

  ‘Of course I am sure of it. Why would I not be sure of it, if it means that much to you, which it does. I should be boiled in a cauldron, if I was not sure of it. At this moment in time Laura has gone to stay with her aunt, who, it seems, is busy giving everyone perfectly delicious food and carrying on as if there were no war on, which is disgraceful, but Laura is revelling in it, just for a bit, and you can’t blame her, really.’

  Aurelia, on a flying visit to the Hall, had actually told Freddie what Laura had been doing. Well, what she had actually said was, ‘She’s been assing about in France.’ This was no way to refer to someone putting her life on the line for her country, but Freddie had so far managed not to tell Daisy.

  Daisy, in her turn, was still too stunned to care what Laura had been doing, or where, or to be able to even feign interest in it, so she asked nothing more.

  ‘You are an absolute angel, do you know that, Freddie?’ she said, eventually.

  ‘Yes, I do. Now, staying on me, what am I going to do about Ben Bastable and Miss Maude? Do you think that Branscombe is right, that I will have to ask your aunt’s permission to marry him, because of being a minor and in loco whatsit? It does seem a bit Victorian.’

  ‘She might be a bit stiff if you don’t,’ Daisy admitted, but although she was doing her best to be interested in what Aunt Maude would say, Daisy actually found that she was not very interested in Freddie’s romance, so relieved was she that she could see David without feeling guilty. She had lost interest in anything else.

  ‘Oh, very well, I’ll ask her.’ As Daisy stood up to leave to go back on ops, Freddie sighed. ‘I’ll ask her tomorrow, if only to make Branscombe feel happy.’

  There was a long silence, and then Maude spoke.

  ‘This Corporal Benjamin Bastable, you have been out with him twic
e, and now he wants to marry you?’

  ‘Yes. He says he knew it the moment he saw me again, that I was the girl he should marry.’

  That was very bold of Freddie, and she knew it, but she was dashed if she was going to be put through the hoops without being completely honest.

  ‘Nice young man, Corporal Bastable,’ Maude announced, after a much smaller silence. ‘Lost his hand, as I remember it, and suffered one or two breakages, but altogether in not too bad a shape. What’s he up to now?’

  ‘He’s studying for a degree in something or other – oh, economics – he thinks that after the war everything will be about just that, economics.’

  ‘He’s probably perfectly correct.’

  ‘And then he’s very keen to invent a new kind of bicycle. He draws beautifully, you know.’

  Maude looked at Freddie, and smiled.

  ‘My dear Freddie,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why you thought it a good idea to ask my permission to marry this young man. Of course you must marry your clever young man, of course you must. As it happens it will serve my purpose very well if you marry him as soon as is perfectly possible.’

  She took out some papers from her leather folder, and laid them on the library table.

  ‘When you have read through these, you will know what I mean.’

  There was no time to put together a wedding dress, and anyway, it was not considered quite right to do more than wed in your best suit with perhaps a corsage of flowers on your lapel. But Freddie did have a flowered hat, to go with her spring suit, and loveliest of loveliest of things, a fine pair of nylon stockings.