cold grey light washed over the wreckage, Daisy and Naomi returned to Nutley Street to find that there were no more victims to be taken to hospital.
They sat down wearily on the remains of a brick garden wall. Daisy took off her steel helmet. She was filthy dirty and worn out. I wonder what the girls in the Buffalo Yacht Club would think of me now, she thought; then she realized she no longer cared much what they thought. The days when their approval was all-important to her seemed a long time in the past.
Someone said: ‘Would you like a cup of tea, my lovely?’
She recognized the accent as Welsh. She looked up to see an attractive middle-aged woman carrying a tray. ‘Oh, boy, that’s what I need,’ she said, and helped herself. She had now grown to like this beverage. It tasted bitter but it had a remarkable restorative effect.
The woman kissed Naomi, who explained: ‘We’re related. Her daughter, Millie, is married to my brother, Abie.’
Daisy watched the woman take the tray around the little crowd of ARP wardens and firemen and neighbours. She must be a local dignitary, Daisy decided: she had an air of authority. Yet at the same time she was clearly a woman of the people, speaking to everyone with an easy warmth, making them smile. She knew Nobby and Gorgeous George, and greeted them as old friends.
She took the last cup on the tray for herself and came to sit beside Daisy. ‘You sound American,’ she said pleasantly.
Daisy nodded. ‘I’m married to an Englishman.’
‘I live in this street – but my house escaped the bombs last night. I’m the Member of Parliament for Aldgate. My name is Eth Leckwith.’
Daisy’s heart skipped a beat. This was Lloyd’s famous mother! She shook hands. ‘Daisy Fitzherbert.’
Ethel’s eyebrows went up. ‘Oh!’ she said. ‘You’re the Viscountess Aberowen.’
Daisy blushed and lowered her voice. ‘They don’t know that in the ARP.’
‘Your secret is safe with me.’
Hesitantly, Daisy said: ‘I knew your son, Lloyd.’ She could not help the tears that came to her eyes when she thought of their time at Ty Gwyn, and the way he had looked after her when she had miscarried. ‘He was very kind to me, once, when I needed help.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ethel. ‘But don’t talk as if he’s dead.’
The reproof was mild, but Daisy felt she had been dreadfully tactless. ‘I’m so sorry!’ she said. ‘He’s missing in action, I know. How frightfully stupid of me.’
‘But he’s not missing any longer,’ Ethel said. ‘He escaped through Spain. He arrived home yesterday.’
‘Oh, my God!’ Daisy’s heart was racing. ‘Is he all right?’
‘Perfectly. In fact, he looks very well, despite what he’s been through.’
‘Where . . .’ Daisy swallowed. ‘Where is he now?’
‘Why, he’s here somewhere.’ Ethel looked around. ‘Lloyd?’ she called.
Daisy scanned the crowd wildly. Could it be true?
A man in a ripped brown overcoat turned around and said: ‘Yes, Mam?’
Daisy stared at him. His face was sunburned, and he was as thin as a stick, but he looked more attractive than ever.
‘Come here, my lovely,’ said Ethel.
Lloyd took a step forward, then saw Daisy. Suddenly his face was transformed. He smiled happily. ‘Hello,’ he said.
Daisy sprang to her feet.
Ethel said: ‘Lloyd, there’s someone here you may remember—’
Daisy could not restrain herself. She ran to Lloyd and threw herself into his arms. She hugged him. She looked into his green eyes then kissed his brown cheeks and his broken nose and then his mouth. ‘I love you, Lloyd,’ she said madly. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’
‘I love you, too, Daisy,’ he said.
Behind her, Daisy heard Ethel’s wry voice. ‘You do remember, I see.’
Lloyd was eating toast and jam when Daisy entered the kitchen of the house in Nutley Street. She sat at the table, looking exhausted, and took off her steel helmet. Her face was smudged and her hair was dirty with ash and dust, and Lloyd thought she looked irresistibly beautiful.
She came in most mornings when the bombing ended and the last victim had been driven to the hospital. Lloyd’s mother had told her she did not need an invitation, and Daisy had taken her at her word.
Ethel poured Daisy a cup of tea and said: ‘Hard night, my lovely?’
Daisy nodded grimly. ‘One of the worst. The Peabody building in Orange Street burned down.’
‘Oh, no!’ Lloyd was horrified. He knew the place: a big overcrowded tenement full of poor families with numerous children.
