The Best of Daughters (8 page)

‘Where've you been all afternoon, miss? Your ma's been fretting and fuming because you was supposed to make a plate of fancies for her blooming stall at the church bazaar on Saturday.'

‘It's only Thursday. She ought to realise by now that my baking day is Friday.'

Ruby sniffed and wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Your ma lives in a different world from the rest of us,
miss.' She picked up a bucket of kitchen scraps. ‘Shall I go and feed the chickens? That's one job less for you.'

‘Thank you, Ruby. You are a jewel by name and a jewel by nature.'

‘Ta, miss. Flattery always works with me.'

‘I meant it,' Daisy said earnestly. ‘And please don't call me miss. No one thinks of you as a servant. You're part of the family.'

‘I'm as much a Lennox as the clock on the wall, but it don't bother me one bit. I know I'm priceless.' Ruby gave her a saucy wink, picked up the bucket and went outside with it looped over her arm.

Daisy went through the scullery to the large airy kitchen, which overlooked the back yard and the garden beyond. The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the diamond-paned windows, warming the quarry-tiled floor to wine red. She took off her hat and hung it on a peg behind the door, next to the bell board once used to summon the servants. She smiled grimly. How times had changed. She plucked a pinafore from its hook and put it on, rolling up her sleeves to begin preparations for dinner.

She had just finished peeling the potatoes when the bell labelled
Drawing room
jangled on its spring. She ignored it at first but the insistent ringing set her teeth on edge and she threw down the knife and marched out of the kitchen and along a narrow corridor to the square entrance hall. She entered the room to find her mother sitting on the sofa with an aggrieved expression on her face.

‘Mother, please don't ring the bell. I'm not a servant.'

‘Where's the wretched girl? You should have sent her to find out what I wanted.'

‘Ruby has gone outside to feed the hens. Where is Bea, by the way? Couldn't you have asked her to do whatever it is you want? She does precious little round here.'

‘Don't speak to me in that tone of voice, young lady. We may be living like paupers but I'm still your mother.'

‘I'm sorry, Mother. But I am rather busy. What can I do for you?'

‘Have you forgotten the fancies for the bazaar on Saturday?'

‘They'll be ready on time.'

‘And why didn't you ask Rupert in for tea? I saw him drop you off outside the gate.'

‘He had things to do, Mother.'

‘You told me that you were going to the library.'

‘I bumped into Rupert in town and he offered me a lift home.' The lie tripped off her tongue so easily that she did not even feel guilty. Surely she was entitled to a life of her own? And yet, looking at her mother's set expression, she knew that having a daughter who was almost twenty-two and not engaged to be married was even worse than having a suffragette in the family. In a few years' time she would be officially on the shelf, like a jar of last year's jam that had gone mouldy, but in the meantime she was expected to behave like the perfect daughter: biddable, and compliant, never questioning her lot. ‘What was it you wanted, Mother?'

‘A little civility wouldn't go amiss. You've become quite surly since we moved to the country. It's far harder for me. I've had to leave my dear friends and live like a peasant, but all you've left behind are those wretched women who led you into mischief.' She glared at Daisy, looking her up and down with her lips pursed. ‘You look and dress like a washerwoman. Is it a wonder that Rupert doesn't want to have anything to do with you?'

‘I've got work to do.' Daisy turned on her heel and was about to leave the room when Gwendoline called her back.

‘All I wanted was a cup of tea and perhaps a biscuit or two. I can't exist on the meagre diet we are forced to endure these days. I have a delicate constitution.'

‘Then I'll make a pot of tea, Mother. You only had to ask.' Daisy could not keep the edge out of her voice, and she knew if she stayed a moment longer she would snap and say something she might regret. She loved her mother but there were times when her patience was stretched to the limit by her autocratic parent's demands. She left the room, relieving her feelings just a little by allowing the door to slam behind her.

She returned to the kitchen, wondering if she had done the right thing by refusing Rupert's proposal. The last thing she had wanted was to hurt him, but had she accepted his offer of marriage she would have joined the legions of women who married for security and were forced to depend on their husbands for everything. Even as the idea came into her head it was rejected. One day, she thought, I will find my own
level. I'll make something of my life and if I do decide to marry, it will be for love.

She set about making tea for her mother but she could not face another nagging session, and in her present state of mind she might still say something she regretted. When Ruby returned from seeing to the chickens Daisy sent her in with the tray.

Dinner was prepared and being kept warm in the oven. Daisy glanced at the clock, wondering why her father and Teddy were so late. On a normal day they arrived at six-thirty on the dot. Father lived his life by the clock and detested unpunctuality. Every morning at eight o'clock precisely he and Teddy drove off in the Humberette, which kept breaking down with monotonous regularity, but perhaps that was not surprising as he had bought it second hand at a knock-down price. It was ten minutes to seven, and she was beginning to think that something was really wrong when Bea came running into the kitchen, flushed and breathless. ‘There's been an accident,' she said excitedly. ‘I was looking out of my bedroom window, wondering why they hadn't come home yet because I'm absolutely ravenous, and I saw the car swerve into the hedge. Father was driving and now he's just sitting there, doing nothing.'

‘Where's Teddy?'

‘He went racing down the road. I think he must have been going for help.'

Daisy peeled off her pinafore. ‘Is Father hurt?' she asked anxiously.

‘I don't know. He was holding his head. Perhaps he banged it on the steering wheel. They hit the bank quite hard.'

Daisy hurried through the house and out into the front garden with Beatrice following close behind. The Humberette was slewed across the road and steam was pouring from the radiator. With a cry of horror, Daisy ran to the car and wrenched the door open. She helped her father from the driver's seat. His face was deathly pale and there was a livid bruise forming on his forehead.

‘Are you all right, Father?'

He shook his head, wincing. ‘It's just a bump, but I need to sit down.'

‘Let's get you indoors.'

‘I can't leave the car here. It's blocking the road.'

He seemed dazed and disorientated. His hands were trembling, and Daisy was afraid that he might be slightly concussed. She turned to Bea. ‘Take Father into the house. I'll send for the doctor.'

‘No doctor,' Victor said emphatically. ‘Can't afford to pay a quack just to tell me I've got a lump on my head the size of an egg. Teddy's gone for the mechanic. Just stay by the car, Daisy. I've always said that blind bend was dangerous.' He looped his arm over Beatrice's shoulders. ‘I need a tot of brandy, that's all.'

Beatrice nodded. ‘Yes, Father. Let's go indoors and I'll pour you a very large glass of Armagnac.'

‘Not too large,' Daisy said, frowning. ‘He should sit down and have a cup of sweet tea. Don't worry about the car. I'll keep watch until Teddy brings help.' She waited until they were out of sight and was about to
lift the bonnet when she heard the sound of running feet and someone shouting.

‘Stop. Don't do that. You'll scald yourself.'

Startled by the urgent tone of his voice she moved aside and was joined by Bowman, the odd-job man and mechanic who had fixed the car and delivered it back to the house after previous breakdowns. ‘I was only going to look.'

‘And you'd have had a nasty accident. You should leave this sort of thing to them that knows what they're doing, miss.' Bowman took a rag from the pocket of his grease-stained overalls and proceeded to fling the bonnet open. He stood back as a cloud of steam escaped into the atmosphere. ‘I'd say the radiator's cracked. The motor must've hit the bank at some speed. Were you driving?'

‘No, I was not.' Insulted, Daisy glared at him. ‘If I'd been driving I wouldn't have swerved into the hedge.'

His dark eyes twinkled and his lips twitched. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Lennox.'

Somewhat unnerved by his direct gaze, Daisy looked away. ‘My father was driving.'

‘Swerved to miss a fox.' Teddy came to a halt at Daisy's side, breathless and panting. ‘Damn thing leapt out of the hedge in front of us. I'd have run the blighter over.'

‘That would be a bit hard on the fox. I hope he got away.' Bowman leaned over the engine, wiping oil away with the rag.

‘Bloody thing disappeared into the hedge again,' Teddy said crossly. ‘I'd have shot it if I'd had a gun.
Anyway, never mind the fox. What about the motor? Can you fix it here and now?'

Bowman shook his head. ‘It'll need a tow to my workshop. I can't do a thing without the proper tools.'

Teddy took off his boater and wiped his brow on the back of his hand. ‘Dashed annoying. How long do you think it will take?'

‘Can't say. I'll probably have to order spare parts from the manufacturers, and that can take time.'

‘Damn.' Teddy frowned. ‘We need the motor to get us to the office every day.'

‘I could lend you a tandem, sir. Had one in for repair and the owner couldn't afford to pay.'

Daisy stared at him suspiciously. Bowman was obviously being sarcastic but Teddy, seemingly oblivious to that fact, appeared to take his throwaway remark seriously. ‘Don't be ridiculous,' he said crossly. ‘My father wouldn't be seen dead on a bicycle. He's a stockbroker of some repute.'

‘So I heard, sir.'

There was a wealth of meaning in Bowman's voice and Daisy felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment. Ruby, who often chose to linger in the village post office and chat to the locals, had told her ages ago that their move to Nutley Green had given the gossips a field day. They knew all about the family's misfortunes and of her involvement with the suffragettes and subsequent arrest, but what right had this common workman to judge her family based on nothing more than idle tittle-tattle? ‘I'm sure that Lady Pendleton will be able to help us out when it comes to transport, Mr Bowman,' she said stiffly.

‘I'll keep the tandem handy just in case, miss.' He tipped his cap.

She knew that he was laughing at her, and she was instantly ashamed of her rather juvenile attempt to put him in his place, but the wretched fellow seemed impervious to snubs. ‘I hardly think that will be necessary, thank you.'

‘Always ready to oblige a lady, miss.' Bowman turned to Teddy. ‘Am I right in thinking that you want me to organise a tow? Farmer Hayes sometimes helps out with his shires, if he's not too busy.'

Teddy shrugged his shoulders. ‘Do what you have to, Bowman. But we need the motor repaired urgently. Do you understand?' He hesitated, frowning. ‘On second thoughts, I'll come with you. Hayes might be more helpful if he knows with whom he's dealing.'

Daisy felt her colour rise. She had found Bowman extremely annoying, but there was no need for Teddy to speak to him in that manner. ‘I'm sure we'd be very grateful for any help you can give us, Mr Bowman,' she said hastily. ‘Please do whatever is necessary.' She turned on her heel and walked back to the house.

Ruby met her in the entrance hall, her face puckered with concern. ‘They're in the drawing room. Going at it hammer and tongs, they are.'

‘It's all right,' Daisy said with more confidence than she was feeling. ‘Will you be an angel and check the oven for me?'

‘My pleasure. Us angels have to stick together.' Ruby scuttled off in the direction of the kitchen.

Taking a deep breath, Daisy entered the drawing
room. As Ruby had said, the atmosphere was strained to say the least. Beatrice had been kneeling at her father's side but she scrambled to her feet when she saw her sister. ‘You can take over now,' she said in a low voice. ‘I've had enough of this.' She went to sit on the window seat, turning her head to gaze out into the front garden.

‘How are you feeling, Father?' Daisy asked anxiously. ‘I still think I ought to send for the doctor.'

‘He doesn't need a doctor,' Gwendoline said angrily. ‘He needs to have his bumps read. He could have been killed driving that death trap, and what would have become of us then? Have you thought of that, Victor?'

‘My dear, it was nothing. The motorcar came off worst.'

‘It wouldn't have happened if you'd had a chauffeur as we did in London, or if you had bought a new motor instead of that rattletrap.' Gwendoline rose to her feet and began to pace the floor. ‘Why couldn't we have moved to a smaller house in town and lived like civilised human beings, instead of being penned up like animals in this wreck of a house? The roof leaks when it rains and we're miles from anywhere. If it weren't for dear Jane Pendleton I think I would go quite mad.'

‘Let me pour you a sherry, Mother,' Daisy said, moving swiftly to a side table. She picked up a cut-glass decanter and poured a small measure. ‘It's good for shock.'

Snatching it from her Gwendoline tossed it down in one go. ‘That's right, and I'm the one suffering from
shock. I knew that this mad venture would end in disaster.'

Victor held his empty brandy glass out to Daisy. ‘But I'm the one who's had the bump on the head, and this is the last of my Armagnac.'