On Christmas Eve she and Bobby would hang their pillow cases on the hearth. By Christmas morning they were filled. A delicious dinner appeared as if by magic on the dining table. Games were played until exhaustion set in.
Then she remembered tomorrow and the Nativity play. If she hadn't interfered in the boys’ fight, she would still be singing the solo verse of Land of Hope and Glory.
And Christmas would be just like it should be.
CHAPTER 9
‘YOU’RE DEAD!’ Peter hissed as Daisy left the playground lavatories. Miss Bailey had sent her to check they were clean and tidy before the parents arrived. Peter must have seen her and lay in wait.
She stopped, frozen by Peter’s threat. Even on an important day like this, the day of the Nativity play, he smelled like he hadn’t washed in months. His menacing eyes peered out from under a large forehead that was emphasized by his closely shaved head.
He prodded her violently in the shoulder. ‘You hear me, you little bitch?’
‘Stay away,’ Daisy squeaked and stumbled back.
‘I’m going to make you pay, now I’ve got you alone.’
Daisy felt faint. The smell of his breath was worse than horse dung. He moved closer, a grin on his lips.
‘I’ve got a knife in me pocket. Guess what I’m gonna do with it?’
Would he really hurt her in broad daylight, Daisy wondered in terror? She didn’t know if he really had a knife, but could she take that chance? Should she try to escape? Or call his bluff?
‘I … I’ll scream if you come any closer,’ Daisy threatened.
‘Who’s gonna hear you?’ Peter smirked. ‘Your gormless brother? Well, hard luck. I made sure he was inside before I followed you.’
‘Everyone will know what you did,’ Daisy croaked. ‘You’ll get put in prison for ever.’
The sloppy smile slowly left his face. He grabbed her arm. ’Prison? No bugger’s putting Peter Brady in prison.’
Daisy shrank back as far as she could against the cold brick of the lavatory wall. She couldn’t imagine a worse death than bleeding very slowly until all your blood was gone. What part of the body emptied first? Would they find her lying here on the cold earth, without even her coat on. She wished she’d taken the trouble to dress warmly before rushing out on her errand. Now look at her. Shivering like a jelly in her gym-slip and white blouse which before long would be stained crimson red.
Peter reached into his pocket. Daisy gulped. So he really did have a knife! Her head swam in circles. Her breath stopped in her throat.
‘Daisy!’ A familiar voice echoed across the playground. ‘Daisy, we’re here!’
Peter let go of her arm. He turned to see who had called and Daisy sprang forward. She ran like the wind across the playground.
‘Grandma!’ Daisy called, her heart feeling as though it would jump out of her chest.
‘What a welcome,’ said Grandma as Daisy fell into her arms.
‘Where’s Pops and Mother?’ Daisy asked.
‘They’ll be here soon. Aunt Pat and I came early.’
‘I’m glad you did.’
‘Is there anything wrong?’ Grandma enquired.
‘Not really.’
‘I’m sure the play will go splendidly. When I was a girl, I was just the same - stage fright I think they call it. I loved the school plays and belonged to the drama club but before an event I was all at twos and threes. I remember one year especially … ’
Grandma continued to reminisce but right now, Daisy couldn’t concentrate on anything but keeping out of Peter Brady’s way. How she wished the Fire Brigade had failed to release such a hateful boy. From the corner of her eye, she watched Peter slink past. Had he really been going to stab her?
Aunt Pat arrived then, a little out of breath. ‘We’re very excited to hear you sing Daisy.’
‘I’m not singing,’ Daisy moped, ‘at least, not by myself.’
‘Yes, so Mother told us,’ said Grandma with a dismissive wave. ‘But being part of a choir is just as important. Now, dear, show us to our seats, will you?’
By the time Aunt Pat and Grandma were settled, Daisy had recovered a little. She saw Bobby and another boy on the stage trying to hang a handmade star to the stable roof. She wanted to warn him about Peter Brady and waved to catch his attention.
‘Daisy Purbright, what are you doing?’ The music teacher tapped her shoulder.
‘Nothing, Mrs Jones.’
‘You are supposed to be practicing.’
‘I was just - ‘
‘Doing very little,’ Mrs Jones scolded. ‘Now follow me.’
Daisy reluctantly obeyed. But would Peter catch Bobby alone, as he had her?
The rehearsal room was filled with members of the choir. Mrs Jones sat at the upright piano and played the first chords of We Wish You a Merry Christmas. Daisy saw Nora Fudge, enjoying celebrity status. Her glossy brown hair was scooped back into a band and she wore a gleaming white blouse under a faultlessly knotted school tie.
Daisy joined in with the chorus but suddenly felt a sharp pain on her elbow. Peter Brady stood next to her. He was carrying a chair and had deliberately knocked her.
Mrs Jones stopped playing. ‘Heavens, Daisy, you are singing flat!’
Daisy blushed red. Everyone turned to stare.
‘Concentrate now. Once again from the start,’ Mrs Jones commanded.
Peter Brady skulked away, but Daisy was left very shaken. He always turned up at the least expected of times.
Once on stage, she tried to sing her best. It wasn’t easy as she tried to remember the words and follow the tune. She looked down at the smiling faces of the audience. Mother and Pops had joined Grandma and Aunt Pat in the front row. Aunt Minnie, Uncle Leo and Will were seated just behind. Her whole family were there, except Matt who had remained at the factory in Uncle Ed’s place. But all the joy had gone from
