The Reluctant Sinner (9 page)

There was a bad start to 1915. The upper Thames valley became flooded and Windsor Castle became an island in a lake. In January, the threat of Zeppelins became a reality as they crossed the Norfolk coast and bombed unsuspecting British towns, and, abroad, British troops defended the Suez Canal from Turkish troops. In March, the battle for supremacy launched the spring offensive in Ypres.

Captain Portman, with his company, was in the thick of the fighting, trying to capture a small hill. After detonating several mines, the hill had been secured. Hugh sat on a broken chunk of tree and lit a cigarette, sweat beading his forehead – thankful to still be alive. After taking his short break, he walked along the line of men, sheltering in dugouts, praising them for a job well done – proud of his men as he chatted to them, yet saddened when he was given the numbers of those who’d perished. But being a professional soldier, he knew that this was inevitable.

Later, he took the opportunity to write a few words to his wife, though God only knew when he’d be able to mail it. He pictured his home in Brockenhurst. The daffodils, in their hundreds, would soon be in bloom, the buds on the trees forming. He looked around at the devastation surrounding him, the mud, the barbed wire, the rotting bodies … yet this was his life and he revelled in it. His wife Grace could never even begin to understand.

Grace was sitting on a train heading for Southampton, gazing out at a very different scene. The verdant countryside, so fresh, watching the newborn lambs gambolling in the fields alongside their mothers and she thought how wonderful nature was. She’d kept busy helping rally her neighbours into knitting for the troops, helping out at the local hospital where she could and holding bazaars trying to collect money for parcels to send to the troops at the front. But today she was off to meet a friend for lunch and to shop.

After leaving the restaurant and bidding her friend goodbye, she walked along Above Bar, stopping to look in the window of one of the stores just as Daisy passed by.

‘Daisy!’ Grace called.

Turning round, Daisy was surprised to see Mrs Portman walking towards her.

‘Daisy, how lovely to see you.’

Smiling, she greeted the woman warmly. ‘How are you?’ she asked.

‘Oh, Daisy my dear, I have missed you so much. Madam Evans made a grave mistake in losing you.’

Daisy flushed with embarrassment. ‘It’s nice of you to say so.’

‘Look, please come and have a cup of coffee with me,’ urged Grace. ‘I want to know how you are getting on.’ She would brook no argument and Daisy found herself seated in a nearby coffee house, hoping that the woman wouldn’t question her too closely.

Once she’d ordered, Grace said, ‘Agnes told me why you were asked to leave, how ridiculous! I know you were working as a barmaid to earn extra money for your poor father, how is he?’

‘Sadly he died at the end of last year,’ Daisy told her.

‘I am so sorry, my dear. So what are you doing now?’

‘I’m still working at the club, but I’m saving my money. I want to open my own business.’

Grace clapped her hands with glee. ‘What a perfectly splendid idea. You have a certain talent, Daisy, that shouldn’t be wasted. I will certainly come to you when you do and I’ll tell my friends. I would be able to bring you quite a bit of business.’

‘That would be wonderful.’

With a thoughtful look Grace asked, ‘Will you need a great deal of money to start?’

‘I’m afraid so. Apart from renting premises, I need sewing machines, staff, materials, patterns and I would probably have to decorate whatever premises I get to make it attractive to my clients.’ She sighed. ‘I have some way to go yet.’

‘Maybe not,’ said Grace. ‘Have you thought of taking on a partner? Someone who could help with the finances.’

Daisy shook her head. ‘No I’ve not thought of that and I’m not at all sure it would work.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘Well, Mrs Portman, I have very definite ideas about the sort of clothes I want to make. I wouldn’t like anyone to interfere on that side of the business and a partner might. I wouldn’t put up with it.’

‘And why should you! That is your line of expertise. I was thinking of a partner who would put up the rest of the money required, who perhaps looked after the books, sorted out the finance, you know, budgets, cost control, but leaving the artistic side to you.’

Daisy laughed. ‘That sounds too good to be true!’

‘I would be interested in such a deal, Daisy.’

‘You?’ She looked at the other woman in amazement. ‘Why ever would you be interested?’

‘I am going slowly crazy with Hugh away. I need an interest and I love fashion and the work that you do and I’m very good at figures; keeping the books would be right up my street, and that would keep me busy. I can’t see why it wouldn’t be a great success. What do you say?’

Daisy was completely flummoxed. ‘I would need time to think about it.’

‘Of course you would. I know this has come as a surprise … to me too!’ And she laughed. ‘But just think how exciting it would be?’

But Daisy was now worried. It all sounded wonderful, but she couldn’t possibly accept. Grace had no idea how she was now earning her money; she probably thought that she was still just serving behind the bar. She couldn’t possibly drag a lady like Grace Portman into business with a whore, not with her reputation. She couldn’t, but how could she tell her?

‘Come out to Brockenhurst on Sunday. Come for lunch; look I’ll write down the time of the train and I’ll have the groom meet you in the pony and trap.’

The curiosity of visiting Grace in her grand house overcame any other drawbacks and Daisy agreed. She would have to decline the offer but at least it would be nice to get out of the town and do so in pleasant surroundings, so she agreed.

At the Solent Club that evening as she sat waiting for her first client, Daisy chatted to Harry, who had steadfastly remained her friend.

‘How much longer are you going to put yourself through this?’ he asked as he polished some glasses.

‘Until I have enough money for my own business. It’s the only way I can save the money to do so.’ But she knew that it would
be some time until that had been achieved and as the weeks passed, the novelty of her being new to the string of girls was beginning to wear off; fewer men were now so anxious to pay her prices. Flo had already had a go at her about the situation.

‘Well, I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but you’ll have to widen your choice of punters if this goes on.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Daisy.

‘Your chosen men are now moving back to the other girls. They’re cheaper and they’ve had you, so why not save money!’

Daisy cringed at the basic description.

‘Of course, there are those you’ve turned down who are still willing to cough up the dosh … like Ken Woods. His tongue’s still hanging out for you.’

With flashing eyes Daisy said, ‘Forget it! You know how I feel about the man.’

‘That’s all very well, but you are beginning to cost me money. If things don’t improve, I’m afraid I’ll have to book you anyone who asks. I can’t afford your high-flying ideas. Those days are all but over my girl. Think about it,’ and she stormed off.

Daisy was thinking about this as she talked to Harry. She loathed what she was doing with every passing day. As every man took his pleasure with her, she felt a little more of her self-respect being chipped away. And for every man who treated her well, there were those who made her feel like dirt beneath them. But she stuck it out and took their money. It would be wonderful to turn her back on it all and return to her sewing, and now the opportunity to do so was there, but she just couldn’t take it. How very sad that made her feel.

On the Sunday, Daisy caught the train to Brockenhurst as directed by Grace Portman. On arrival a man wearing jodhpurs approached her.

‘Miss Gilbert?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘Mrs Portman sent me to meet you. The trap’s outside so if you’ll follow me please?’

The man settled her and gave her a blanket to place over her knees, then with a click of his tongue and a sharp sting of his whip on the horse’s flanks, they moved off.

How tranquil and beautiful this is, thought Daisy as they moved
through the country lanes, passing several riders and walkers on what was a bright cool morning. When the trap turned into a wide drive and she saw the imposing Manor House before them, Daisy caught her breath. How magnificent it must be to live in such a place, surrounded by such lovely gardens. She realized that Grace Portman came from a wealthy background, but now seeing it for herself, she was overawed by it. There was no way she could expect a lady from such a background to become a partner. Her reputation would be in ruins if it ever got out that she was in business with a common prostitute.

Grace walked out of the heavy front door and met Daisy. ‘I’m so pleased you came. Come inside; it’s still quite chilly, so we’ll have a drink to warm you.’ And she ushered her into a spacious front hallway and then into a large sitting room, where a log fire was burning brightly. The aroma of the burning wood filled the air and was immediately comforting. Grace took Daisy over to a comfortable armchair by the fire and took her coat. She then walked over to a table filled with bottles and decanters of wine and poured out two glasses of sherry. Passing a glass to Daisy, Grace settled in a chair opposite.

‘Cheers!’ she said, and sipped the drink.

‘Cheers!’ said Daisy and did the same. The warmth of the alcohol slid down her throat and she savoured the taste. ‘This is a splendid house, Mrs Portman.’

‘Yes, I’m very lucky. It’s been in Hugh’s family for several generations. But it seems a bit like a mausoleum with him away. There’s only me and the staff here. The house should be filled with children running around.’

‘You don’t have any?’

Grace looked sad as she said, ‘No, unfortunately. My husband wanted us to wait until the war was over before we started a family. I didn’t, but once he makes up his mind about anything, no one can make him change it, I’m afraid.’

‘Never mind,’ said Daisy, ‘when he comes home, he’ll be only too happy to do so. This war seems never-ending, especially as everyone seemed to think it would be over by Christmas.’

‘Let’s forget about the war, it’s too nice a day to think about it. Come over to the window and look at the garden.’

They walked to the large bay window where expensive drapes were smartly held back by heavy cords ending in large tassels. This Daisy admired as she touched them.

‘I thought you’d like them, with your artistic bent,’ laughed Grace.

But the view from the window made Daisy gasp. There was a wide terrace outside with steps leading down to expansive lawns and flower beds. In the distance huge cedar trees stood out against the horizon.

‘How beautiful,’ said Daisy as she drank in the scene before her. ‘You must have an army of gardeners to keep it so perfectly.’

‘No such luck. They are all in the army, but I do have two older men who work very hard.’

A maid appeared and announced that lunch was served.

‘I thought we’d have it through here instead of the large dining room; it’s so much lighter and it catches the sun so well,’ said Grace as she led Daisy to a conservatory filled with exotic plants. In the middle was a circular table set out for two. The aroma from the plants filled the air. The smell of hyacinths, in particular, filled Daisy’s nostrils as she sat down and she felt as if she was in a different world.

The maid served them with a gently pungent leek and potato soup, with freshly made bread rolls, followed by roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with a selection of fresh vegetables. The lemon meringue pie which finished the meal was delicious.

When Daisy remarked on how succulent the beef was, Grace smiled at her appreciation.

‘I’m lucky to have a cook who has been with the family for years and of course we get the beef from one of our farms nearby. We supply the army with it as well.’

The more she learned about Grace Portman the more Daisy realized how improbable it would be to be in partnership with her.

They returned to the fireside to drink their coffee and the moment Daisy had been dreading arrived.

Grace spoke. ‘Now that you’ve had time to think over my proposition, what have you decided?’ she asked.

Taking a deep breath Daisy said, ‘Mrs Portman, I’m very grateful for the offer but I’m afraid I have to decline.’

There was a look of disappointment on the other woman’s face. ‘I would dearly like to know why, Daisy. You must have a good reason.’

Having spent time with Grace, a woman she both liked and admired, and seen the way she lived, Daisy made a brave decision.

‘I couldn’t possibly have you as my partner because your reputation would be in ruins. You see for the past few months, I’ve not been working as a barmaid. To make the extra money I needed for the care of my father I became one of Flo Cummings’ girls. I became a prostitute.’

Grace was stunned. She sat and looked at Daisy … and was speechless.

‘So you see, Mrs Portman, it would be impossible to accept your offer. Had my circumstances been different …’

‘Oh, Daisy! I am so very sorry that you were put in such a dire position. Why ever didn’t you come to me? I would have helped you.’

The unexpected sympathy and kindness from such a cultured lady overwhelmed Daisy and she fought the tears that threatened. ‘It never ever occurred to me to come to you. You were one of my clients.’

‘But to have to do what you did, my God that was brave. Does your mother know what sacrifice you made?’

‘Good Lord no! She must never find out, she’d be so ashamed.’

‘But, Daisy, if you accept my offer, you could walk away from this life and start again!’

‘How could I possibly involve you? My past is bound to come out and you would be tainted by it if you were involved.’

‘But don’t you see, Daisy, once you are established the work that you do is so exquisite that it would be a seven-day wonder and would soon be replaced by your reputation as a designer?’