‘Make yourself comfortable, Betty. I’ll make a fresh pot of tea,’ said Mother.
Daisy was eager to open the presents that Aunt Betty had brought but there was something quite odd about this visit. Why was everyone talking so politely, as if they were strangers? Why had Pops left for work so abruptly?
‘I hope you like your present,’ said Aunt Betty, sitting on the chair by the fire.
‘A skipping rope!’ exclaimed Daisy as she tore off the wrapping.
‘And something else.’
Daisy unwrapped the second parcel. ‘A dainty brush and comb set with bluebirds and blossoms painted on the handles. Oh, thank you, Aunt Betty.’
‘I’m sorry it’s late.’
There was something definitely amiss, Daisy decided, as Aunt Betty stared into the fire. Mother said very little when she brought in the tea.
‘Can I skip in the garden?’ Daisy asked.
‘Put on your coat and scarf,’ said Mother. ‘And hat too.’
Daisy dressed warmly and arranged her new brush and comb set on her dressing table. In the chill winter’s air she skipped on the lawn and swung herself to and fro on the apple tree swing. The seat was a little lopsided but if she swung herself high enough, she could almost reach out in summer and touch the tree’s fruit-laden branches.
Boredom soon set in and she ran to the window, hoping to attract Mother and Aunt Betty’s attention. But she stopped still when she saw inside. Two figures were huddled together; Aunt Betty was weeping and Mother was trying to comfort her.
Daisy played in the garden until her fingers and toes went blue. Going back indoors would be a mistake; she knew Mother and Aunt Betty were not to be disturbed.
Instead, she paced out six feet six inches, the area described in this morning’s letter. What would a tiny steel house look like? Would it be warm? Could you cook in it? More importantly, could you play in it?
Eventually she opened the front door and gave a slight cough. The whispering continued. Had Aunt Betty and Uncle Ed received a letter from the government too? Were they to be a given a shelter for their garden? Was this the reason for tears?
Daisy was about to set foot on the first stair, when she heard Aunt Betty’s pleading, tear-filled voice. ‘Flo, what am I to do? I feel torn apart.’
‘You’re a married woman, Betty. You love Ed, surely?’
‘I - I did, I do! But I was very young when we married. Things change.’
‘Ed is a wonderful husband,’ insisted Mother. ‘He worships the ground you walk on.’
‘Perhaps that’s it,’ said Aunt Betty on a sigh. ‘Living up to an ideal is no fun at all.’
‘Is that what you want - fun?’ Mother questioned.
‘Why not?’ asked Aunt Betty sadly. ‘Five years of working hard at the factory. Of trying to conceive and hoping that any day I’d find myself pregnant. Pretending that we didn’t care and putting all our energies into the business. Making sure we were solvent. Balancing the figures. Every day consumed with ambition to succeed, making the business our child. Protecting it, feeding it, giving it our all. And forgetting ourselves. Ed and I, we’ve lost touch. And when - when Neville came along, I just knew that I couldn’t go on pretending. At least, not to myself. And I suppose, not to Ed.’
Daisy had vowed never to eavesdrop again. And she wasn’t - intentionally. She was trying to get up to her bedroom. Forcing herself to the next stair, she refused to listen.
Stair three, four, five, six …
Each stair echoed with a sob or sigh from Aunt Betty. In the safety of her room, she flung herself on the bed. Covering her head with the pillow she tried to forget. But nothing could shut out the words of Aunt Betty. Or her mother’s shocked response. And worse, so much worse, was that this hateful secret, the one that she had been hoping would disappear like the genii did in the lamp, just like you saw on the films.
Yet this was real life and not make believe.
CHAPTER 15
IT WAS NOT Aunt Betty but Peter Brady who occupied Daisy’s thoughts on the first day of term. It was likely their arch-enemy was laying in wait somewhere as she walked to school with Bobby. Peter would be with his gang; he was too much of a coward to confront them on his own. He was the kind of bully who needed an audience.
‘Stay with Sally,’ Bobby instructed as they walked hurriedly towards the school gates. ‘We’ve been lucky so far but he could be anywhere. Don’t go wandering off on your own.’
Daisy had no intention of being caught unchaperoned. As soon as she saw Sally in the playground, she joined her. ‘Did you have a good Christmas?’
‘Me dad’s rolling drunk again,’ said Sally with a grin. ‘We had more knees-ups than a birthday in a brothel. What did you do?’
‘I got the flu.’
‘What, you silly cow!’
‘I thought I’d eaten too many sweets from Aunt Pat’s Saturday Assortment.’
‘So you missed all the excitement?’
Daisy nodded dismally.
‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ Sally said as they lined up for class.
‘What?’
‘I’ll tell you in assembly.’
Daisy couldn’t see Peter as they filed into the hall, but his horrible mates had caused a fuss, refusing to stop swearing and cussing at the younger children. The teachers, Daisy suspected, were turning a blind eye after the attack on Mr Potter.
‘So?’ Daisy urged, as they sat on their seats and waited for Miss Bailey to appear.
’Peter’s not coming back to school - ever.’
‘What!’ Daisy couldn’t believe this was true.
‘The word is, he got in trouble with the rozzers at Christmas.’
‘Trouble?’
‘Nicking at the market and clobbering a copper who tried to nab him.’
‘Are you sure?’ Daisy asked doubtfully.
‘Dad heard it from the blokes at work,’ Sally insisted. ‘Like I told you, the Bradys have a reputation second to none. Peter is following in his old man’s footsteps they say. Odds on
