by June Tate
‘I’ll ask Mrs Portman to go to her. I’ll go and arrange for her to do so now and I’ll tell the police you are ready to give them a statement. I won’t be long.’
Left alone, Daisy began to shake. However could this have happened just when things were going so well? She felt the tears begin as she tried to control her trembling limbs. Thank God her father wasn’t alive to witness this terrible affair. But how on earth would her mother take the news?
Grace Portman knocked on the door of Daisy’s home and waited. When the door was opened she said, ‘Mrs Gilbert? I’m Grace Portman, Daisy’s partner; may I come in for a moment please?’
Vera was thrown when she saw the well-dressed stranger standing before her and as she invited the lady inside, her stomach tightened. Something was terribly wrong, she could tell by the expression on the woman’s face.
Grace gave Vera the bad news as kindly as she could, knowing that any mother would be devastated under the circumstances. ‘I’ve hired a good solicitor for Daisy,’ Grace told her. ‘He’s with her now.’
Vera’s face was sheet white as she listened. ‘The man’s dead you say?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘I must go to her,’ Vera said, getting to her feet.
‘I have my car outside,’ Grace told her. ‘I’m sure Daisy will be pleased to see you. Please try not to worry too much, she’s in safe hands. The solicitor is a very clever man, and he’ll look after her.’
They drove to the police station in silence.
When the two women arrived at the police station they were told that Daisy, after giving her statement, was now being examined by a doctor.
‘Is she hurt then?’ Vera asked.
‘It’s just routine,’ she was told.
Turning to Grace Vera asked, ‘How is it that you’re here?’
‘I’m the key holder with Daisy, so when all this happened they rang me at home and I got my driver to bring me here immediately. We must be brave for Daisy, as she’ll be in a state, of that I’m certain.’
‘I bet it’s got something to do with working at that bloody club!’ Vera exclaimed. ‘I knew no good would come of it.’
Grace tried to placate her. ‘That’s not strictly true, Mrs Gilbert. A lot of good came from it. Daisy was able to care for her father in his last days, and save to start her own business.’
Vera just sat, simmering and worrying.
Eventually the two women were able to see Daisy, who flew into her mother’s arms. ‘There, there, love,’ Vera said as she held her.
They sat down together and Daisy told them what had occurred. ‘I thought he was going to kill me!’ She buried her head in her hands. ‘What will happen to me now?’ Then turning to Grace, ‘What about the business?’
‘Don’t you worry about that. We have a good team of girls; we’ll manage until you come back.’
‘Oh, Grace, what if they send me to prison?’
‘Why would they? You were fighting for your life.’ But nevertheless, Grace Portman was worried.
Edward Davidson came into the room. ‘I’m afraid that Daisy will have to spend a night in the cells as she’ll be in court tomorrow.’
‘What does she have to go to court for?’ asked her mother.
‘Just to give her name, address and her plea which of course will be not guilty. I’ll try and get bail for her.’
‘And if you can’t?’ Grace asked.
‘Then I’m afraid she’ll be kept in on remand until the trial.’
Grace caught hold of Daisy’s hands and squeezed them. ‘We’ll do what we can to keep you out, Daisy. You just have to be strong and brave. You can do it, I know you can. I’ll take your mother home and bring her to the court tomorrow.’
‘Thanks, Grace, I won’t forget your kindness.’
‘What tosh! We’re partners and we stick together through thick and thin.’
As Vera was driven home she looked at Grace and said, ‘Do you think she’ll get bail? Now give me your honest opinion.’
‘Honestly, Mrs Gilbert, I don’t know. We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed.’
Grace was so worried that she asked her driver to take her to Giles’ farm. She needed some support and he was the only one she could turn to.
When Giles opened the door he was surprised to see Grace as it was so late, but then he saw the expression on her face.
‘Grace, what on earth has happened, you look terrible. Come inside.’
She sipped at the brandy Giles insisted she drink while he dismissed the driver saying he would see Mrs Portman safely home and, when he returned, she told him what had transpired.
‘Oh my God! How dreadful … the man’s dead you say?’
She nodded. ‘I can hardly believe it.’
‘Poor Daisy. Is she all right?’
‘Badly shaken and now to have to go to court, I am so worried for her. The solicitor is a good man, but I am frightened of the consequences.’
The two of them talked long into the night until Giles insisted he take her home. ‘You need to get some sleep,’ he urged. ‘I’ll call round to see how it went tomorrow evening.’ And he drove her home.
The following morning in the courtroom, Daisy stood before the magistrate and gave her name and address. She froze when she heard the next words.
‘You are charged with the murder of one Kenneth Woods. How do you plead, guilty or not guilty?
‘Not guilty,’ she replied clearly.
Her solicitor got to his feet. ‘My Lord, this was clearly a case of self-defence on the part of my client and we request bail. Miss Gilbert is not a threat to the public.’
The judge looked over the top of his glasses at Edward Davidson. ‘We can’t be sure of that; she was certainly a threat to Mr Woods!’
‘But that was because she was fighting for her life, my Lord.’
‘That yet has to be proved, Mr Davidson. Bail is denied.’
As Daisy was taken down the steps of the witness box, she looked frantically around for her mother and Grace, who were sitting absolutely stunned by the judge’s decision.
Seeing the distress on Vera’s face, Grace caught hold of her hand. ‘Daisy will need us more than ever now.’
Vera was speechless and sat wiping the tears from her cheeks.
Edward Davidson came over. ‘I am sorry, Grace, but I didn’t really think they’d let Daisy out until the trial. I’ll do my utmost to get it on the list as soon as is possible. I promise. Come with me and then you can see Daisy before they transfer her.’
Daisy Gilbert sat alone and forlorn at the table in the holding room, with its stark walls and barred window, a policeman in attendance. She looked up as the door opened and Grace came in with her mother. She didn’t get up and hardly moved so shocked was she at the thought of going to prison.
Vera bravely fought back the tears and sitting down, she took her daughter’s hands in hers and with a forced smile, she spoke.
‘Now love, try not to take this too hard. I know it’s awful news, but Mr Davidson will try and set the trial for as soon as is possible. He’s a good man and I trust him.’
‘If there’s anything that you need,’ Grace said, ‘you just have to let me know.’
Daisy gazed at her. ‘You should have listened to me; I told you my past would cause you embarrassment. This will all come out in court, then where will you be with your family name and connections?’
‘As if I care!’ Grace was astonished that she could think of her plight, with everything else hanging over her. ‘You listen to me, Daisy Gilbert. This will be a hard time for you, but believe me, once it’s all over it will be a nine-days’ wonder and things will return to normal. You see.’
‘It won’t be a nine-days’ wonder for me. I killed a man.’
‘It was an accident, Daisy, and don’t you forget that,’ urged Vera.
Leaning forward, Grace said, ‘Who knows what might have happened if you hadn’t defended yourself? It could have been your body in the morgue
, not Ken Woods’, don’t forget that, Daisy.’
‘Sorry ladies, your time’s up,’ the constable announced.
Vera hugged her daughter, then as Grace did the same, she whispered to Daisy, ‘Don’t you worry about your mother; I’ll see she’s all right. Chin up, Daisy Gilbert, you are a survivor and don’t you forget it!’
As the door shut behind them, Daisy wondered just what was ahead of her now? She’d had to face up to being one of Flo Cummings’ girls and now a prison inmate. Life could be cruel, but at least she knew that Grace would look after her mother and that was a relief. But how long was she to be shut away for? She could only wait and wonder.
Twenty-Two
Daisy, now on remand, was taken to Holloway prison with other female offenders. When she was told where she’d be held until her trial, she was shocked. She’d read about several suffragettes being imprisoned there and eventually force-fed. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like.
On her arrival, she was searched thoroughly and none too gently by the stern-faced policewoman. ‘Handy with a pair of scissors I hear, Gilbert,’ she said. ‘Well you won’t be using any in here.’
Looking at the woman, Daisy knew instinctively that declaring she’d used them in self-defence would be met without any understanding. Her belongings and contents of her handbag were listed, which she had to check with the warder as it was written and then sign the paper to say she agreed with the contents. She was then given soap and a towel, a change of underwear and a well-worn but clean nightdress, which was threadbare in places, made to undress, and take a bath.
‘And don’t take all day, we have a queue waiting,’ she was told. ‘When you’ve finished, get dressed and wait outside the cubicle.’
The cubicle had only half a door so that the prison warders could look over the top to watch what was going on, so there was no privacy at all. Daisy was allowed to dress in her own garments as she was awaiting trial. She was issued with a sheet, two blankets and a pillow, then led along a stone corridor, with cells either side and shown into one near the far end. The place was stark and uninviting. Footsteps echoed on the stone floors, but it was the rattle of the keys worn at the waist of the warder that seemed to her to encapsulate her loss of liberty.
Inside the cell were bunk beds, a small table, two chairs and in the corner, a bucket with a lid. On the bottom bunk was a book and a dark-grey cardigan which Daisy recognized as prison garb, having seen other inmates dressed in prison uniform as she walked to her cell.
‘Yours is the top bunk,’ she was told. ‘When the bell rings, go to the floor below and join the queue for food. Now we don’t put up with any trouble, so be warned. Cause a disturbance and you’ll be very sorry!’ The warder left her alone.
Daisy stood in the middle of the cell and looked around. Space was limited and she wondered who slept in the other bunk. She sat down at the table, feeling completely lost. Hearing footsteps approaching she looked up as a woman walked into the cell. She was tall, thickset and imposing. Her hair was dragged back from her face in a tight bun; her prison pallor was a testament to her environment. She didn’t smile.
‘Who are you?’ she demanded.
‘Daisy Gilbert.’
‘What you in for?’
‘I’m on remand awaiting trial.’
‘What for?’ Her expression didn’t change.
‘I killed a man, but it was self-defence.’
‘Of course it was!’ The sarcastic tone wasn’t wasted on Daisy, but what was the point of arguing?
‘I’m Belle Harding and I don’t put up with any untidiness. This place isn’t big enough to swing a cat. Understand?’
‘Fully. I’m Daisy Gilbert – and I won’t be bullied!’
Belle looked at her with a glimmer of interest. ‘So you’ve got some spirit then. You’ll need it in here.’
‘Have you been here long?’ Daisy ventured.
‘Yes,’ was the curt reply and Belle washed her hands and lay on her bed.
Daisy was at a loss. It was quite obvious that her companion was not going to chat, so she could do nothing else but wait for the bell to ring for lunch. When it did, Belle got off her bunk, walked to the cell doorway, turned and said, ‘Well don’t just sit there, come on.’
Daisy followed her down the steel staircase, watched how Belle picked up a tin plate, a knife, fork and spoon and joined the queue. Daisy did the same.
The food was served by women in prison garb. A runny stew was slapped on the plate followed by mashed potato and some peas. In a small basin was served some kind of sponge and thin custard. No one spoke; neither did they show any interest in the new inmate.
Daisy followed Belle and sat at a long bench table which was partially occupied. Some of the others nodded to Belle, gazed at Daisy, then started to eat.
‘This your new cell-mate then, Belle?’ asked one.
She nodded.
‘What you in for?’
‘I’m waiting for my trial to come up,’ Daisy answered.
‘That’s not what I asked. What are you in for?’ the prisoner demanded.
Daisy stared straight at her and answered, ‘Murder!’ Out of the corner of her eye, Daisy saw Belle try to hide a smile.
There were no more questions.
The murder of Ken Woods and the arrest of Daisy Gilbert made headline news in the local paper. Grace Portman read them and was appalled at such publicity. Poor Daisy, now everybody who read the paper knew she had worked at the Solent Club. She had no place to hide.
The seamstresses had arrived the morning after only to be turned away by the police from the crime scene, but were told to return the next day. Grace had been there to tell them the terrible news.
‘Now we have a business to run,’ she explained. ‘So far, we can manage without Daisy and I expect you all to do your utmost to keep up with the work and then when Daisy returns she won’t have a backlog of work to face.’
Agnes was very concerned about her friend. ‘Is she going to come back, Mrs Portman?’
‘Of course she is! Daisy was fighting for her life, had she not been she would most probably be dead. And by the way, I’ll have no gossip from here. We all owe a lot to Daisy Gilbert for starting this business and I will make sure she has one to return to. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, of course,’ they all agreed.
‘Was she hurt?’ asked Rose.
‘She’s a bit battered and bruised, that’s all physically, fortunately, but she is suffering from the trauma of it all, as you can imagine.’
Again Agnes intervened. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Mrs Portman, but do you think we’ll still have any customers? Will all this scandal chase them away do you think?’
‘I have given this matter considerable thought, Agnes, and the possibility is that we may indeed lose some, but consider this, the ladies who come here do so because of the quality of our work. Others will still come to be able to glean any inside information … sadly that’s the way of the world. Some we will lose. But once it is all over and Daisy returns, it will be forgotten about in time. We just have to hang on long enough.’
‘Don’t you worry about that, Mrs Portman,’ said Agnes. ‘We’ll keep the home fires burning so to speak,’ and looking at the others she added, ‘won’t we girls?’
They all agreed with great enthusiasm.
Grace was quite overcome with such loyalty. ‘Thank you, ladies, I really do appreciate that.’
But back at the Manor House, Clara Portman, her mother-in-law, was incandescent with rage when she swept into the Manor House that evening, waving the local paper at Grace.
‘I suppose you’ve read all this? What a dreadful scandal! And our name is emblazoned all over with this Daisy Gilbert. Hugh must be turning in his grave!’
Grace looked coldly at her. ‘Is that all you can think about, Clara? Have you no pity at all for poor Daisy who was attacked and might have been murdered herself?’
The look of astonishm
ent on Clara Portman’s face was something to behold. ‘Pity? You must be joking! This girl worked at the Solent Club and we all know what sort of place that was. Oh, please. I can’t believe you are that naive.’
‘I have no intention of discussing this any further with you, Clara. It’s none of your business.’
‘Of course it’s my business and I hope you’ll have the good sense to sever all ties with this girl.’
‘I most certainly will not!’ Grace was livid. ‘Daisy Gilbert is my friend and partner and I am standing by her side through thick and thin. She’ll be fine eventually and the business will thrive, of that I am certain.’
Clara glared at her daughter-in-law. ‘Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought.’ She strode to the door. The expression on her face when she turned towards Grace was filled with vitriol. ‘I always knew that Hugh made the wrong choice when he took you as his bride. Well he wouldn’t listen to me, but if he were alive now, he’d know that I was right.’
Grace, weary from the verbal onslaught, poured herself a brandy. Clara’s taunts were of no consequence to her. She would do as she thought was right. Her concern was for Daisy, and although she’d tried to fill the staff with confidence, she wasn’t really certain that the business would hold up. However she would rally all her friends and get her mother to do the same in the hope that together they could keep the business running for the time being. The result of the trial would make the difference.
The front-page spread was read by many and some with a vested interest. Flo Cummings knew that her business now was in dire trouble. When Daisy came to trial she would certainly tell of her days of being one of her girls and Flo could face a charge of living off immoral earnings … this was cause for great satisfaction for Bertha Grant, the wife of the landlord of the White Swan. Her husband’s mistress could be sent to prison. What a shame that would be. The woman laughed heartily at the thought.
