The door of their room screeched as it always did when Bobby opened it. A deluge of lavender and mothball hit them full force.
‘I’d forgotten how funny this place smells,’ said Daisy, lumping her case on one of the two single beds. Each bed had a fancy pink pillowcase and frilly floral cover.
‘I don’t like sharing,’ said Bobby disdainfully.
‘We used to share, remember?’
‘We were just kids then,’ said Bobby in his grown-up voice.
‘My heel is really sore.’ Daisy rolled down her sock. ‘The blister’s going to pop.’
Bobby threw himself on the nearest bed while Daisy lowered her case to the other. She snapped open the two brass locks and took out Aunt Betty’s brush and comb set. The pretty birds and blossoms painted on the handles reminded Daisy of home. She arranged them on the doily of the old-fashioned dressing table. ‘There’s room here for your things too.’
Bobby yawned. ‘No thanks.’
Daisy sat down with her back to the wall. She could smell the damp plaster of the ceiling reminding her of the times they had come to visit in the past. There was a broken pane in the window just as there always had been. On the other side of the room a hole had appeared in the wainscoting. A small pile of sawdust had accumulated.
‘Come on, let’s hang our coats in the wardrobe and go downstairs for tea,’ Bobby said, jumping up.
Daisy pulled off her coat and joined Bobby at the wardrobe, a huge dark brown polished monstrosity. Bobby tugged at the door. It suddenly flew open.
Daisy screamed as a small brown animal shot out. ‘A rat!’ she cried running to the bed and jumping on top.
Bobby watched it scoot away. ‘It was just a tiny mouse, that’s all.’ He looked at Daisy cowering on the bed and began to laugh. Soon he was laughing so much, the tears streamed out of his eyes.
Daisy began to laugh too. Fancy her being scared of such a tiny creature!
CHAPTER 24
DAISY WAS WOKEN at the crack of dawn, or so it seemed, as Aunt Pat shouted up the stairs, ‘Rise and shine, lazybones!’
They scrambled into their clothes and hurried to the outside closet in the pouring rain, for the weather was on the turn. A dank, poo-smelling mist was swirling around the house.
Breakfast consisted of two thickly carved slices of bread laden with dripping. The strongly brewed tea was poured into mugs and more toast offered with sticky homemade jam.
‘Grandma is a fiend for thrift,’ Aunt Pat confided as she sawed off a slice of cooked rabbit for the casserole. ‘We were raised to be careful. Waste not, want not. Second nature to the Taylor girls.’
‘I wouldn’t mind porridge,’ Daisy ventured.
‘Winter’s not on us yet,’ Grandma decided. ‘We’ll make the most of summer’s crop first.’
After breakfast Daisy showed Grandma her heel.
‘Looks nasty, I’ll put some iodine on it.’
‘Will it hurt?’
‘Not at all,’ said Grandma, but the pain of the disinfectant made Daisy’s eyes water. ‘Once the air gets to your heel, you’ll soon mend. Don’t put your shoes on or the wound will get worse.’
Daisy spent the day with one sock on and one off. She wandered around, trying not to feel like a prisoner. At least Bobby could go outside and amuse himself.
Grandma gave her a few jobs to do and Aunt Pat brought out the Mahjong. But time passed so slowly that it was quite a relief when the next day came.
’Another letter,’ called Aunt Pat as she came rushing in to the kitchen. ‘It’s from your father.’
Daisy and Bobby jumped up. ‘What does he say?’
‘I’m afraid they have to postpone their visit as they’re driving Matt to cadet training, in Lincolnshire.’
‘Where’s Lincolnshire?’ Daisy asked.
‘Up north.’ Grandma bustled in with a tray. ‘A heck of a long way.’
‘Is Amelia going too?’
‘Doesn’t say.’ Aunt Pat handed round the mugs of cocoa. ‘But seeing as they’re engaged I wouldn’t be surprised.’
Daisy sat down with her hot drink. Their parents weren’t coming after all. The long days of autumn in Wattcombe stretched ahead.
‘Cheer up, you two. You’ll be starting school soon,’ said Aunt Pat.
Daisy’s head shot up. ‘Will we?’
‘I earmarked a place for you. Spoke to the Head, myself.’
‘But we’re going home in November!’ exclaimed Daisy.
Grandma said nothing and Aunt Pat made scarce of herself.
Daisy glanced at Bobby. He looked as miserable. Not only had they not said goodbye to Matt, but Pops and Mother weren’t coming. Not even a hint of when they might visit.
We’ve been abandoned, Daisy decided.
Forever.
I t was a cold and bitter day in October when Daisy and Bobby made their way to Wattcombe Primary. Daisy shivered under her winter coat and woolly hat which Aunt Pat had produced from a drawer of mothballs. Her blister had all but disappeared, but had been revived by the galoshes she’d worn to muck out at Mr Webber’s farm.
Daisy giggled. ‘Now the cows will have to clean up.’
Bobby laughed. ‘I’d like to see that.’
‘I quite liked the farm,’ Daisy added as an afterthought. ‘Mrs Webber made us hot scones. And the cow’s milk is the best I’ve ever tasted. Not like powdered milk that we get at home.’
‘Cows are quite friendly,’ Bobby said with a grin. ‘Though they never do as they’re told.’
They were still discussing the farm when they arrived at school, only to find the playground filled with bedraggled children of all shapes and sizes.
’Welcome to our school for evacuees,’ shouted a tall, elderly man. ‘I am Mr Keen, your headmaster.’ Daisy wondered if Miss Bailey would approve of his crumpled grey handkerchief and drip on the end of his nose.
Waving a sheaf of
