Daisy's Wars (39 page)

‘Men,’ Daisy smiled, ‘you know nothing! Weren’t you listening at our party? They’ll always be Elizabeth’s daughters, she’ll always be there as far as
they’re concerned, and quite right too. I don’t intend ever trying to replace her.’

Peter didn’t say anything, but his arms tightened around her in reply.

Daisy walked down the aisle on Par’s arm to where Peter waited with Laura and Libby, her bridesmaids. The bride wore a gown she had made herself as Mar watched,
fascinated, making frequent loud exclamations of praise for her skills. When it was finished it had a sweetheart neckline, cap sleeves, a fitted bodice that emphasised her small waist, and a very
full floor-length skirt, a gown made for her hourglass shape. She had come a long way from the girl who desperately hid from male attention. Now she was happy to show off her figure in a gown that
drew gasps, even though Mar had pre-warned everyone by loudly predicting that she would ‘knock ‘em dead!’

A few months later, French designer Christian Dior brought out what became known as The New Look and was attacked and worshipped in equal measure for his lavish use of material, but Daisy had
got there first. All women who had lived through the austerity of the war now wanted a bit of glamour and felt they had earned it, even if their clothing coupons stopped them having it. Daisy was
no exception, but she did have all the material she needed, so she had created her own bit of glamour in a style that suited her. When Dior’s creations were unveiled, Daisy smugly noted that
they needed boning, the modern equivalent of a light corset, to achieve the desired effect, whereas she hadn’t needed any such help.

In her hair she wore a band of lily of the valley and carried a small matching bouquet. Mar’s family jewels were her ‘something borrowed’ and ‘something blue’ was
the cushion-shaped sapphire between the two brilliant diamonds of her engagement ring.

‘So where’s the “something old”?’ Peter whispered at the altar.

‘Oh, I’ve had that for a while now,’ she smiled, nudging him with her elbow. ‘You!’

He smiled widely throughout the service and Daisy was too enchanted by what was happening to be overcome. Then, to complete the day, as they left the church she saw Edith waving at her.

The day had been perfect, or nearly perfect. If only Kathleen had lived to see her married to this lovely man, and Joan Johnstone, and maybe even Kay, though she doubted if her sister would have
fully understood what was happening. And there was Eileen. She missed her good friend Eileen, the only really close female friend she had ever had, the only one who had ever truly known her.

The reception at Rose Cottage was as simple as the Bentleys were able to comprehend, with everyone within shouting distance in attendance and as much of the farm’s produce as the various
tables could hold. It was far too noisy, there were too many people crammed in and it was hot, but it was a lovely wedding. Peter was friendly and attentive to everyone and even in the rush of
people he was never less than polite to each guest who wanted to congratulate him, whether he knew them or not, but every now and again he would look up to locate her in the crowd and he would
smile such a sweet smile at her that she blushed with happiness. Edith rushed towards Daisy and hugged her, the two friends spinning round with delight.

‘He seems wonderful!’ Edith shouted above the noise.

‘He is,’ Daisy smiled.

‘But I’m amazed, I never thought you’d ever get married.’

‘Neither did I,’ Daisy giggled, ‘but there’s just something about him.’

‘I’ve got a secret, too,’ Edith laughed, taking Daisy’s hand and placing it on her stomach.

Daisy’s eyes opened wide and her mouth formed a silent ‘Ooh!’

Edith held up her hand to show off a gold band. ‘Married Doug in May. He’s back home now, I’m joining him next week! The baby’s due in February.’

‘You didn’t say a word!’ Daisy accused her.

‘You should talk!’ Edith replied.

‘How’s your cousin?’

‘Oh, she’s fine. Her lot were about the first to be demobbed, doesn’t know what to do now. Not much call for Balloon Operators in peace-time.’

‘Look, it’s too noisy here, can you stay here tonight and we can catch up tomorrow?’

‘But aren’t you going off on your honeymoon?’

‘No,’ Daisy said, ‘I want to settle in first. We might have a holiday later.’

A little shadow had crossed her heart for a moment, though she didn’t let it show. Edith had married her Aussie and was going to live there. In that split second it was if Frank stood
before her. ‘Did you know Dotty had got married as well? She’s not here, she’s still overseas.’

‘Did she marry that Aussie Spitfire pilot she used to write to?’ Edith asked innocently.

‘No,’ Daisy said, trying to keep her voice even, ‘he was shot down and killed.’

‘Oh God, poor Dotty!’ Edith exclaimed.

‘Yes, poor Dotty,’ Daisy murmured.

‘So who did she marry, then?’

‘Some doctor she met at her unit. Did Mar out of a wedding, too, as she’s never stopped hinting.’

‘Well, she’s had one now,’ Edith smiled.

23

In the following years, Peter and Daisy were happy. He clearly adored her and she was so grateful that she adored him back, even if their definitions of adoring were
different.

Dotty and her husband returned in 1947, then went straight off again to America, and Frank Moran’s name wasn’t mentioned, much to Daisy’s relief. Although it did prove to her
that he had been more significant to her than he ever had been to Dotty, which disturbed her a little. This was a different Dotty: she had lost her dottiness almost completely and was every inch
the physician’s wife, and the physician, Bertie by name, was a nice chap, which pleased Mar, especially now that she’d finally met ‘the blighter’. There was a dinner at Rose
Cottage as boisterous as any of the others, and Daisy told Bertie of her mother’s illness and asked what he thought it could have been.

‘Simple,’ he grinned, lighting his pipe. ‘Rheumatic heart disease.’

‘Really?’ Daisy said. ‘My father could never understand why the doctors said it was her heart when it seemed like something to do with her lungs.’

‘Well, it was to do with her lungs, the two are linked. She’d had rheumatic fever as a child, it’s a condition prevalent in cold, wet climates and where nourishment and living
conditions are poor. Sometimes the symptoms are so minor people don’t know they’ve had it, but usually there’s high fever, painful joints, then it’s gone, but only
underground. With women the trouble comes during the advanced stages of pregnancy. At first your mother would’ve bloomed, but at around seven months the child would start putting on serious
weight in preparation for birth, and that would’ve put a huge strain on a heart already under pressure. The valves wouldn’t have been working properly, you see, not controlling the
blood-flow to the lungs and back again, so her blood wouldn’t have had enough oxygen either, and she’d have had trouble breathing.’

‘Could anyone have done anything?’ Daisy asked, remembering the sound of her mother’s breathing.

‘Shouldn’t think so,’ Bertie said philosophically. ‘Wasn’t the medical expertise around, I’m afraid, nor the medical care for that matter.’

Before Dotty left for America the two women had a short conversation without Mar, and Dotty thanked Daisy for allowing her mother to dominate her wedding.

‘I did her out of one, I’m so glad you gave her yours, Daisy, though it must have been hell!’

‘Well, if I hadn’t given it to her she’d only have taken it,’ Daisy replied. ‘But I didn’t mind at all, it was lovely to be part of the family.’

‘I must say, though, I was pretty shocked when I heard you’d married Peter, but seeing you together I know it’s right,’ Dotty giggled.

‘
You
were shocked?’ Daisy said. ‘Think how
I
felt!’

Daisy enjoyed her new life, even if she found it difficult to cope with staff. It seemed almost sinful to have a housekeeper, people to clean and open the door, but she
adjusted.

The only moment of real pain was the arrival of an unwelcome visitor a year after they had married. The maid had said there was a man at the door asking to see Mrs Bradley. He said he was a
relative.

Instantly Daisy knew who it was.

‘Show him in, Alice, thanks,’ she said, ‘then get Peter.’

As he walked into her drawing room all she could think was, Dessie Doyle in
my
house!

She was amazed to see that same smug smirk on his face. ‘Well, now, Daisy,’ he grinned, ‘haven’t you done well for yourself?’

‘How did you find me?’ she asked coldly.

‘The neighbours at Guildford Place told me you’d been traced to the WAAFs after the bombing, so I went to the police when I was demobbed and told them we were related.’

‘We aren’t,’ she said, ‘we never were. You only married my sister.’

He laughed. ‘You never did accept that, did you, Daisy?’

‘So what do you want here?’ she asked.

‘Well, I think I must be due some compensation,’ he said.

She didn’t understand what he was talking about. ‘Compensation? What do you mean?’

‘From the bombing,’ he said. ‘There must have been something.’

Her head was spinning but she managed to project a calm manner. ‘As far as I know there was some government grant to help people replace their furniture.’

‘That’ll be it, then,’ he grinned.

‘And, as far as I know again, it came in the form of vouchers.’

‘Better than nothing,’ he said, though he was obviously disappointed. ‘It should’ve been shared between the two of us.’

Daisy was aghast. It took all of her self-control not to fly across the floor at him, nails flailing. ‘I think you’ll find that the house was in the name of Sheridan, and every piece
of furniture, too.’

‘My wife and children lived there, I must have some rights,’ he said angrily.

‘I have no idea what rights you have. I’ve never been back to claim anything, if you want to try that’s up to you. Now, is there anything else before you go?’

‘Oh, very hoity-toity,’ he smiled. ‘Mind if I smoke?’

‘Yes, I do.’

Just then Peter arrived, smiling and friendly as usual, looking from Dessie to Daisy for an introduction.

‘This is my sister Kay’s husband,’ Daisy said, without taking her eyes off Dessie.

‘Her brother-in-law,’ Dessie grinned at her.

Peter stepped forward, his arm outstretched to shake Dessie’s hand. Without taking her eyes from Dessie’s face, Daisy gently caught Peter’s arm and put it down.

He looked at her, confused.

‘Peter, do you remember I told you I’d been raped?’ she said quietly. ‘Well, this is who did it, my brother-in-law, as he likes to call himself.’ She moved her hand
down Peter’s arm and grasped his hand. ‘My father was working night shift at the pit, my mother was ill and bed-ridden, and my sister, his wife, was upstairs with a four-month-old baby
and already three months pregnant with another. That’s when he raped me. I sat up all night then signed on the next day. I never saw my family again.’

‘It wasn’t rape,’ Dessie said smugly. ‘If she hadn’t wanted it she could’ve found a way to stop it.’

‘I was bruised for weeks,’ Daisy said quietly.

‘Some women like it rough.’ He made to light a cigarette.

Peter freed himself from Daisy’s grip and said very quietly. ‘Mr … ?’

‘Doyle, Dessie Doyle,’ Dessie said.

‘Well, I’m sure I can gave you something to help you on your way, Mr Doyle.’

‘Don’t you dare!’ Daisy cried.

‘Daisy, be quiet!’ Peter said sharply, then he turned Dessie towards the front door. Daisy could hear the sound of their footsteps growing more distant on the gravel outside, and she
was bereft. Peter didn’t understand men like Dessie. If he gave him ten shillings Dessie would just keep coming back for more. Peter should’ve let her handle this.

Then Peter came back.

‘Daisy, do we have such a thing in the house as some TCP? Something like that, and perhaps a dressing or two?’

‘What has he done to you?’ she asked, running towards him.

‘I rather think it was the other way round,’ Peter said cheerfully, ‘at least I damned well hope so!’ He held up his hands to show her his grazed and bleeding knuckles.
‘Felt rather good, actually,’ he beamed. ‘Didn’t think I still had it in me, to be honest.’

‘So you were a bare-knuckle fighter in your youth, were you?’ she asked, binding his hands with a hankie and calling Alice to bring in the first-aid box.

‘Well, I was actually, but I didn’t tell you because I thought my debonair side had attracted you. Didn’t you notice my nose?’ he asked, pulling it to one side.
‘I’ve been turning away from you all this time so that you wouldn’t see it.’ Then he pulled her to him and held her tightly. ‘He’s gone,’ he said,
‘and he won’t be back. I told him I’d kill him if he ever comes near us again, and I meant it.’

It was only then that Daisy realised Dessie had been there in the back of her mind, or rather the fear that he would find her again. Now he was gone and she had this lovely man to thank for
making her feel secure, for looking after her, when the pattern of her life had been that she cared for other people. She chuckled into his chest.

‘You’re laughing!’ he accused her. ‘I’m standing here in agony, bleeding all over the back of your blouse, may I say, and you’re laughing!’

‘I was just thinking,’ she said, ‘of you as Saint George!’

‘He had armour and, more to the point, metal gauntlets, and a big pointy thing as well, may I remind you!’

‘I love you,’ she said, without thinking.

‘You’ve never said that before,’ he said quietly. ‘It was worth it. Even if I die this moment from blood loss, it was worth it.’

24

Five years on Laura and Libby were both married with children, making Peter a grandfather, then Daisy was shocked to discover that she was pregnant. They had never tried or not
tried to have children, but for some reason she thought it was one of those things that happened to other people.

Peter was so ecstatic that he told everyone he knew the moment he did, and instead of calling Mar and par he jumped into his beloved MG and drove all the way to Rose Cottage with the news. He
called Daisy to tell her Mar and Par were happy too, though she could hear that quite plainly from the screeching in the background, and that he’d be driving straight back again as soon as
they’d all had some champagne.