bump on her head throbbed so violently she was sure it was vibrating. Her lip tasted salty-sweet. If Peter Brady’s injuries were only half as painful as hers, then she wished she had scratched him more.

‘Daisy, you will forfeit your opportunity to sing solo at the Christmas play. Nora will take your place.’

Daisy’s head jerked up. The world felt as though it was collapsing around her ears. Had she heard right? She was to be robbed of her solo! Yet what punishment had Peter received? Not even a reprimand? She choked back her sob. But she would not cry. Not even let the furious tears close. Well, not now anyway.

‘Tomorrow you will apologise to Peter. You have broken school rules. I hope this punishment will teach you to think carefully before acting on impulse.’

Oh, it certainly will, Daisy longed to say. If being deprived of her starring role in the choir was earth-shattering, apologising to Peter Brady was about the most awful, unjust thing she had ever heard of.

She hadn’t understood the words that Peter Brady had been yelling, but she knew they were bad. She recognised a bully when she saw one. Peter would grow up to be like the men outside Sammy Berger’s house; the same awful men who had daubed the words, “Filthy Yid,” on Mr Berger’s front door.

‘What kind of trouble have you landed us in now?’ Bobby demanded as they walked home from school. They were the last two pupils to leave, except for Peter Brady who was still being treated by Mrs Potter.

‘I’m not a telltale,’ Daisy protested, hurt that Bobby could even think such a thing. Once again, the tears of injustice pricked. Why was Bobby so angry with her? She had only tried to help him.

They marched on in silence through the shabby terraces of two-up two down houses of the Isle of Dogs until Daisy swiped her runny nose with the back of her hand.

Bobby stopped abruptly. ‘What’s up with you now?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You’re crying.’

‘It’s all so unfair,’ she burst out. ‘Peter Brady isn’t punished, but we are.’

‘You’re too young to understand,’ Bobby said impatiently.

Her tears turned to anger again. ‘You’re my brother,’ she spluttered. ‘I couldn’t stand by and watch you get beaten up.’

Bobby reached out and grasped her shoulders. ‘You shouldn’t interfere in a boys’ fight.’

‘Peter Brady is beastly. He deserved what he got.’

‘It’s not your concern,’ Bobby persisted. ‘Peter’s parents are against Jews, so Peter bullies Sammy.’

‘Is that why you helped him?’

Bobby sighed quietly. ’He’s got no other mates.’

Daisy felt a swell of pride. Bobby was fearless. Even though Peter Brady had a gang, Bobby had defended Sammy.

‘I quite like Sammy too,’ she said, her eyes stretched wide. ‘Even though he’s a bit smelly and dirty.’

Bobby withdrew his hands from her shoulders. ‘Sammy and his dad are poor. Sometimes they don’t have anything to eat. Can you imagine starving?’

Daisy tried to imagine being hungry and not having a meal to look forward to. This, she discovered, was almost impossible. For Mother and Pops saw to it that their family was fed and clothed and given a happy, harmonious home to live in. Unlike the slum where Sammy lived.

‘You’ve got a great big bruise on your shin.’ Daisy pointed to Bobby’s injured leg. ‘It’s where Peter kicked you.’

Bobby pulled up his sock. ’Doesn’t show now.’

‘You can’t see my cut either.’ She tried to keep the tremble out of her voice. ‘Lucky, it’s on the inside of my lip. But I’ve got a bump on my forehead.’

Bobby gave her a long, level stare. ‘Don’t worry, it’s under your fringe.’

They were half way home when Daisy realised the biggest challenge of all was still looming ahead. ‘What shall we tell Mother?’

Bobby replied in a tone that sent fresh shivers over her skin. ‘We don’t say a word!’

‘Why not?’

‘Grown-ups want to know why you’ve been in trouble, but really they don’t. Sorting it all out is a big problem for them.’

Daisy stared into her brother’s brave, bright blue gaze. This time she thought she understood. Aunt Betty, for instance, had a problem. So she had shared it with Aunt Minnie who, also unable to solve it, had passed it on to Mother.

This process, Daisy decided, was like giving someone a cold. It gathered pace, and infected lots more people. If Aunt Betty had never stood close to Mr Calder, then she wouldn’t have passed the cold to Aunt Minnie and Aunt Minnie to Mother.

It was quite clear to Daisy now, from what she had learned from Bobby, that the more people who got involved, the worse it became.

‘Did you get detention from Miss Bailey?’ Bobby asked.

‘No,’ she replied resentfully. ‘Nora Fudge has been given my solo.’

Bobby whistled through his teeth. ‘Poor old you.’

‘I don’t care,’ she insisted, though of course, she did. ‘What should I say to Mother when she reads the letter?’

‘Don’t say a word. Leave the talking to me.’

Daisy’s heart filled with admiration. Bobby was her brother, but more than that, he was her hero.

She would never, ever let him down. Showing him she was loyal had been worth losing her solo.

CHAPTER 8

‘IT WAS JUST A SCRAP,’ Bobby explained after Mother had read the letter.

‘What caused it?’ Mother enquired from her chair beside the fire.

‘I can’t even remember what it was.’

‘So it wasn’t serious?’ Mother questioned. ‘Not something I should know about?’

Bobby shook his head. ’We don’t get on. I think he’s an idiot. He thinks I’m one.’

Daisy watched her brother shrug and automatically, she shrugged herself. This gesture caused Mother to glance her way. ‘And you, Daisy. How did you get involved?’

‘She was meddling as usual,’ Bobby answered before Daisy could speak. ‘Got in the way like she always does.’

Daisy wanted to protest but Bobby kept talking.

‘Not that she meant to scratch his cheek,’ he elaborated. ‘Girls are useless when they fight. Like cats.’

‘Is this true, Daisy?’ Mother asked.

Daisy chewed on her sore lip. ‘I s’pose.’

‘Miss Bailey writes she is most upset,’ Mother

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