by Diane Allen
Bob lifted Daisy off her feet and swung her round like a twirling roundabout, her skirts billowing in the wind as they hugged and hugged again.
‘I’ll always be there for you, Daisy. I’ll never let you down, and you’ll want for nothing, my love. You’ve made this old bachelor a very happy man.’ He squeezed her tightly and grinned, because he’d got his woman.
Daisy hummed and sang under her breath all the way back to her room at Gearstones, giving the drinkers standing outside the alehouse a more than generous welcome, before going inside to the main house and climbing the stairs to flop onto her bed. She was to be married – and have a house of her own – with a man she knew would look after her and treat her right. She lay on the metal-sprung bed that creaked at every turn, and looked around the room that had been her home for the three years that she had been at Gearstones Lodge.
They had been good years, full to the brim with events, despite there being illness, poverty and despair as navvies lost their lives building the iron rail-line through the Dales. But along with the bad times came hope and friendship, especially the friendship and support that the Pratt family had shown her. She remembered the morning she’d crept downstairs to witness Jenny and Mike talking about her, and how she had thought how crude and rough Jenny was. In fact she’d been just the opposite, and had shown Daisy nothing but kindness. A pang of guilt washed over her. She’d have to tell Jenny of her plans to marry Bob. Once she was married she’d have her own house to run, and she wouldn’t have time to work at Gearstones Lodge. Her place was by her man’s side, attending to his every need in the square-built house that she knew to be the signalman’s, across the track from the signal box at Blea Moor. She wouldn’t be on her own, as there were two small cottages for the plate-layers and their families nearby, and she knew both families well. Thoughts about planning her wedding dress, and decorating her house, danced around her head as she tossed and turned. She tried hard to find sleep, knowing that she had to be awake early because it was Ivy’s day off and she was the cook in the morning.
Morning came all too soon, as the grey fingers of dawn crept into Daisy’s bedroom. She felt tired and didn’t want to go down to the kitchen and start her usual routine. She eased her body out of bed and smiled again at the thought of marrying Bob, then splashed her face in cold water from the ewer on her washstand. Pulling back the curtains, she let the morning’s weak light in and gazed at the flanks of Whernside. The huge mountain outline was crisp and sharp in the morning’s light, but soon she’d be waking up in her own home directly under its menacing scars, then making breakfast for her man and cleaning the house. She’d never thought that day would come.
The warmth from the kitchen met her as she crept downstairs and set about the business of lighting the oven. The previous day’s embers were still glowing slightly as she laid new kindling and punched the bellows, to get a good roar from the flames. The lodge was quiet – not a sound was to be heard. It would be like that for some time yet, and Daisy appreciated the time to herself. She’d loved this kitchen, and the hours she’d spent in it since her arrival that stormy night. Her thoughts often wandered back to her home – back to the days when her father had been her best friend and protector – and then her thoughts clouded as she thought about the way he had treated her when he’d found her with child. The beatings and cruelty that he and her mother had shown, and the death of the baby, had left her feeling bereaved of a family’s love, and it was at quiet times like these that she cast her mind back to those terrible days. She brushed a tear from her eye as she pounded the dough; it was no good dwelling on the past. It was time to look to the future.
‘Morning, Daisy. Mmm . . . that bread smells good. And just listen to that.’ Jenny joined Daisy in the kitchen, still trying to pin her hair in place as she bent down to smell the newly baked bread.
‘Here, let me.’ Daisy wiped her hands and helped Jenny place her pins in her bun on the back of her head. ‘Listen to what?’ she enquired, as she deftly placed the hair pins in place.
‘Exactly – peace! Would you believe it? Jonathan is worn out from going rabbiting with his father, and baby Ben is dead to the world. Though what a difference in babies: Ben is so good, compared to Jonathan, who was Satan, I’m sure.’
‘He was a handful, I’ll grant you that, but never Satan.’ Daisy smiled as she poured Jenny a cup of tea.
Jenny drank deeply and smiled. ‘What would I do, without you and Ivy? Two young boys take some looking after, and then there are all the lodgings to keep an eye on. At least, since the navvies have moved on, our rooms are let to respectable workmen. But still, they take some upkeep.’
‘I’m sure you’d manage without either one of us. You can turn your hand to most things. I sometimes think it was out of pity that you kept me on.’ Daisy tested the water, for she wanted to know how much Jenny relied on her. She was dreading having to tell her that she was going to be married and leave Gearstones Lodge.
‘Nonsense! I knew you’d be the wonderful cook that you are. Poor Ivy is sometimes quite jealous of your skills. She should know that I’d never see her out of a job, as she’s a distant relation, but it’s your cooking that the lodgers always ask for.’
Daisy hesitated. ‘Oh! You might as well know, because I can’t keep my news a secret any longer.’ She clattered the spoon into her mixing bowl and slumped into a chair. ‘Bob will not be able to keep it to himself, anyway.’ She looked sheepishly at Jenny. ‘Bob and I are to be married. He’s got the signalman’s house at Blea Moor, and we are to live there.’ She waited for Jenny’s response.
‘Oh, Daisy, that’s lovely news. There’s me, blurting on about how we can’t do without you, and all along you knew you wanted to tell me this. Congratulations, my love, you’ll make him a happy man. He’s a bit steady, but he’s a good ’un, and there’s not many of them about.’ Jenny rushed over and hugged Daisy. ‘We’ll have to make a special day for you. By heck, I’d better order some more ale. And of course you’ll have the reception here!’ She chuckled.
‘Trouble is, Jenny, I will be leaving Gearstones Lodge. I’ll need to look after my man.’ Daisy looked serious.
‘Aye, well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now, when have you set your wedding for?’ Jenny tried to skirt around Daisy’s departure.
‘We are going to see the vicar today, after dinner time, so I’ll know more then.’ She was surprised that Jenny was taking it all in her stride and felt that a weight had been lifted. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll stay as long as you want me – that is, until you get a replacement – because I know you are run off your feet with the bairns, and the number of guests you have lodging. I’m only living up the line, after all.’
‘Well, we’ll make it a wedding to remember. I’ll go upstairs and get dressed and tell Mike the news. He’ll be so happy for you.’ Jenny smiled before climbing back up the stairs. Unbeknown to Daisy, she shook her head in disbelief when she was halfway up. Daisy was marrying a man more than twice her age. A pretty young thing like Daisy should have a handsome lad on her arm. Still, if Bob made her happy, that was all that mattered. You could tell that he adored her. Perhaps young men weren’t for Daisy; it took all sorts to make a world, and perhaps she felt safe with Bob. She’d try and get Daisy to stay on as her cook, just for a little while after she was wed, in the hope that she would soon find out what a lonely life it would be up at Blea Moor signal box, just running a house for an ageing husband.
‘Well, that’s settled then: three weeks on Saturday.’ Bob held Daisy tight. ‘Are you happy with that, my love?’
‘Yes, of course I am. It means our wedding can be a quiet affair. That’s what I wanted. I’ve no family, and I’m not one for fuss.’ Daisy smiled and gazed into her beloved’s eyes. All she wanted was her man.
‘I’ll be good to you, my love, and you’ll want for nothing. I know I’m no millionaire, but we’ll be happy, I swear.’
‘I know, my darling.’ Daisy held Bob’s hand t
ight as they walked along the path that led to their new home at Blea Moor. The signal box and the railway cottages stood proud of the railway line. Around them lay the wide-open spaces of fell-land, with the wild red- and orange-coloured moorland grasses blowing in the summer breeze. It was a bleak place; even now, towards the end of summer, the wind had a sharp nip to it, just to remind people of the harshness of the fells. The huge, dark chasm of Blea Moor tunnel loomed further down the track, the brickwork around it coloured red from the iron ore that dripped and seeped in the fell-waters and drained down into the stone-covered track.
‘So, this is it – this is our home, Daisy my dear.’ Bob paused outside the garden gate that formed the entrance to the small garden, stocked lovingly with pansies and marigolds, plants hardy enough to survive the harsh climate that surrounded the squarely built house. ‘I think you know our neighbours, the Ivesons and the Sunters. Both families are good folk.’ Bob waved to a woman with ragged children around her feet as she stood outside the doorway of the plate-layers’ cottages. ‘And this is the signal box. Do you want to look inside? Bert won’t mind.’
Daisy looked across at the white-painted signal box and up at the clear windows, through which she could see the gleaming brass-topped levers of the signals and the round face of the signal box’s clock. It was an integral part of the smooth running of the railway. The figure of Bert waved his hand at her, as she gazed up at the smoke rising from the signal box’s small stove. She waved back and smiled.
‘I’d rather look around the house, if you don’t mind?’ Daisy peered through the windows of her new home, trying to look into the rooms inside.
‘I haven’t got the key yet. Next week, the gaffer said, but you can see from outside how big the house is. It’s big enough to hold us two, and perhaps some family, Daisy. What do you say? A little girl and a boy would make us complete. I’d love a lad, just to show him how to do things and to know he’s mine.’ Bob blushed. He’d never broached the subject before.
‘We’ll see. I think we should be on our own for a while – not rush into family, not yet.’ Daisy’s voice went cold. She couldn’t possibly think about children yet, and the one thing she had been dreading was the thought of sex. So far Bob had been nothing but honourable, but she knew that, once married, he would expect things of her. The memory of Clifford’s rape came rushing back to her, and she shuddered as she recalled his hands wandering over her body. She didn’t know how she would manage it, but there was no way she could ever have Bob touching her as Clifford had. He would have to be content with friendship – that had been part of his attraction from the start. She’d watched Lizzie, John’s stepdaughter from Gearstones Lodge, and her beau, Dan, fondling and playing around, and had decided a long time ago that it was not for her; she needed friendship, not lust. Nothing good came of lust!
‘Daisy, are you listening to me? Bert’s put the kettle on in the box, he’s made us a brew. Now watch out as you cross the line.’ Bob pulled on Daisy’s hand as he made his way across the ballast and the train track. ‘Watch your skirt don’t get caught in the points. We don’t want you splattered by the mail train that’s nearly due.’
Daisy picked her way carefully across the track, lifting up her long skirts and taking note of the wires and points along the track, before following her husband-to-be up the steps to the signal box. It was quite cosy inside. The kettle was boiling on a small coal stove, and she was immediately made welcome by the beaming red face of Bert, as he shook her hand.
‘What are all these levers for?’ Daisy looked at the handles. There were some pointing up and others down, in preparation for the passing trains.
Bert grinned. ‘Aye, lass, these are for the signals, and these are for the points, so that I can put the trains on the right track. But don’t ask me – your fella here will tell you all. He’s the man for the job.’ Bert patted Bob on his back and grinned as he passed Daisy a steaming brew in an enamel cup.
‘This lever sends trains up to Leeds and London, and this one’s for the track down to Carlisle.’ Bob’s voice was full of pride.
‘But surely it’s up to Carlisle and down to Leeds, from where we are?’ asked Daisy, showing interest in the work of her husband-to-be.
‘No, it’s up to the city of London, and down to the country – the opposite to what you think. That’s what we’ve been taught.’
‘That’s not right at all.’ Daisy laughed as she took a swig of her tea. Just then a bell on the cabin wall rang.
‘That’ll be the four-fifteen,’ Bert announced, as the train set about making its way down the line.
‘See, my love. I’m only just over the other side of the track from you – never too far from your side.’ Bob squeezed Daisy’s hand.
‘Now then, you lovebirds, you are going to make an old man blush.’ Bert winked as he pulled the lever back into place, as the steaming engine and its carriages rattled past the signal box. The smell and smoke from the engine filled the box as the driver blew the whistle to show his thanks.
‘Ta for showing Daisy the box, Bert. We’d better go now; don’t want to get you into bother, because I know visitors in the box are against the rules.’
‘Aye well, good luck with your wedding. You make a grand pair.’ Bert shook Daisy’s hand as she turned at the top of the stairs leading down to the track.
‘He’s a good man, is Bert. Comes from Settle, loves his job. Even when he’s not working, he tries to travel on a train anywhere in the country. Other day he said he’d gone to Blackpool, and stopped in one of those cheap boarding houses on the Golden Mile that they advertise on the station posters. Imagine Blackpool! They say it’s the place to go to at the moment. I can just see Bert in a bathing costume, dipping his toe in the Irish Sea.’
Both Daisy and Bob laughed at the thought of the rotund Bert with bathing trunks on.
‘He says he’s going to go to London one day, on the train. Imagine going to London – by, that’s a long way, and a different world from here.’ Bob went quiet, imagining the bustling streets of London and his mate Bert walking them.
The courting couple walked hand-in-hand along the path leading back to Gearstones Lodge. The wind gently blew the smell of peat over their faces, and the slight warmth of the setting sun glowed on their skin and on the flanks of the three great peaks of Whernside, Ingleborough and Pen-y-ghent, making them look like sleeping golden lions. Daisy had been trying to pluck up the courage all day to tell Bob her news.
‘Bob, my love, you know that when we are married I said I’d give over working at Gearstones Lodge? Well, I’m in a bit of a spot. I can’t let Jenny down completely. She’d be lost without me. Would you mind if I stayed working for her, just for perhaps one or two days a week? She’s so busy. Just until she’s found someone to replace me?’ Daisy knew she should show some commitment to Jenny, for it had been her who had saved her on that terrible night. ‘Please say you understand. I can’t leave Jenny in the lurch.’ She looked up into Bob’s eyes, sensing that they seemed troubled.
‘I thought you were only going to look after me when we got married, and that Gearstones Lodge was going to be a thing of the past. That Jenny owes you, lass – she’s not paid you a penny since you first stopped there.’ Bob scowled.
‘But I’ve bed and board for nothing. If she hadn’t taken me in that night, I don’t know where I’d have been by now. It would just be for a week or two after we wed, and then Jenny will have to find someone else.’ Daisy stood on her toes and kissed him gently on the cheek.
‘Well, make sure that it is. A woman’s place is in her home, looking after her man, not flaunting herself about in them lodgings.’ Bob’s voice was cold and matched the look in his steely eyes.
Daisy was taken aback by his harsh words. Bob was usually gentle, and had never once voiced his opinion about her working for Jenny. The walk back home was done in silence, with only the sound of the resting lapwings and curlews. The goodnight kiss outside Daisy’s door was cold and reserved.
For a moment she wondered if she was doing the right thing. She’d learned to be independent since being thrown out of her family, and now she was going to have to become a wife, doing what her husband bade her.
‘Oh, Daisy, you look beautiful. When I saw it in Tenby’s store in Bradford, I had to have it for you. And don’t say a word. I could hardly deny you a dress, for all you have done for me over the past few years.’ Jenny stood back and admired the blushing Daisy. ‘Bob will just want to eat you, looking like that. I hope he’s got a decent bed in that house of his, because he’ll be using it tonight!’ Jenny laughed a crude chuckle, and Daisy’s complexion reddened to the same colour as the roses that she held in her hand.
‘I don’t know how to thank you, Jenny.’ Daisy ran her hand down the frills and lace that adorned her wedding dress.
‘Well, we couldn’t have you marrying in that dull stripy thing you were starching the other day. Good Lord, lass, this is your day to shine.’ Jenny put her hands on her hips and grinned. ‘Mike’s downstairs. He’s decorated two traps and is waiting to take you to the church. The girls have set the drawing room for your wedding breakfast, so the day’s yours and Bob’s, my girl. So try and look like you’ll enjoy it.’
Daisy smiled and thought about the small Dales church at Chapel-le-Dale and of the vicar who was waiting for them. She was worried about the dress, but that was not her main concern. She was beginning to have her doubts about the marriage. In fact, if she could, she would have run and hidden somewhere – anywhere – nobody could ever find her. Since the day they had set their wedding date, and the walk back from the visit to the signal box, Bob had become more interested in keeping her at home and becoming a mother to the family he had secretly dreamed of for years, it would seem. Daisy was beginning to feel smothered by his demands. The wedding night she was dreading, for she knew Bob would expect her to be his, and more besides, and she feared his advances. A tear started to fall silently down her cheeks, and her hands trembled as she held the rose bouquet, watching a petal fall to the ground. She couldn’t help but think she was like that petal: falling and alone, without support of others from this day onwards. A married woman who had to do her husband’s bidding. And if he wanted a family, then she would have to give him some, even if she couldn’t abide the thought of holding a baby.
