EPISODE TWO

 

The next few months were difficult with Jack learning to cope with his artificial foot. He made a big effort to manage the steep staircase but it was a clumsy business. However, once the wheels for claim of compensation had been set in motion, the Railway Company seemed eager to have Jack back as an employee. It transpired that if they re-employed him, the compensation package would be lower so, eventually, he returned to work in the ticket-office where there was a chair to sit down on should he need to rest. And by the end of the year, the Railway Company decided to take advantage of the publicity by nominating Jack for a George Cross.

Daisy was so proud of Jack. Until now, the horror of his injury had eradicated his bravery. Now her husband was on the mend, they were no longer living on the bread line and Jack had been proclaimed a hero. In 1904 they were invited to a ceremony at Buckingham Palace and this time there was no question about Daisy having a new outfit.

One of the young mothers she had met on the beach went with her to choose it. She opted for a deep blue ankle-length skirt with a cream blouse, trimmed with lace; there was a navy veiled hat, matching gloves and fashionable ankle boots to go with it. The boots even had a two inch heel which pleased Daisy because, at just over five foot, she had always longed to be taller.

'You look wonderful, sweetheart,' said Jack when she tried the outfit on to show him.

Daisy beamed at him. Since their life had improved, she had regained some of the weight she had lost and the dimples in her cheeks had returned.

'Give us a twirl, there's a dear.'

She did as he asked, feeling like royalty as she caught a glance of herself in the long mirror on the wardrobe door. Even Teddy looked in awe of her but she had to get Jack to hold him back in case he grabbed her skirt with his sticky little fingers.

Jack too had to be fitted out with a new suit. 'Why can't I wear the one I wore for our wedding?' he said. 'There's nothing wrong with it and it's only taking up room in the wardrobe covered in mothballs.'

'Don't be silly, darling, for an honour like this you need a new suit. I won't hear of you turning up to meet the King in an out-of-date suit.'

Jack begrudgingly agreed and he was secretly pleased when he inspected himself in the mirror, especially when Daisy oohed and aahed over his appearance.

Both of them floated through the ceremony as if in a dream. Daisy would recall one aspect which Jack had completely missed, and vice versa, he would pick some facet of the regalia that had completely passed her by. When they got home, Mrs Durrant, who had once again taken care of the children, was agog to hear every detail.

'And did the King actually speak to you?' she asked Jack.

Jack nodded.

'And what did he say?'

This floored him. For the life of him, he couldn't remember. They all laughed and Mrs Durrant said, 'One day, you will be able to tell your children all about it.'

 

Despite the pain he sometimes experienced with his artificial foot, life improved for Jack. He found that working in the ticket office afforded him the opportunity to talk to people. He enjoyed the contact and made friends with some of his regular customers. Daisy was happy with her lot. She loved motherhood although they mutually decided that two was enough, especially as they now had a pigeon pair.

They often took the children for walks on the Downs with Jack just about managing to carry his young daughter on his back when she got tired. The town was expanding: an infant school opened up along the road, just in time for Teddy. In 1908 a Museum and Art Gallery was built and in 1911, the Kursaal Entertainment Complex was opened, affording the Websters the opportunity to have the occasional evening out while the kindly Mrs Durrant sat in with Teddy and Madge.

The children did well at school with Madge being good at English and even learning to type, while Teddy found that mental arithmetic came easily to him. Their parents were proud of them and felt confidant that they would be assured of a job when they left school.

Little did they know that everything would change so suddenly. One June evening in 1914, Jack hurried home from work with dramatic news.

'Have you had the wireless on?' he asked as he burst through the door.

Daisy stopped stirring the stew to which she had just added a pinch of salt. 'Why, what's happened?'

'There's been an assassination.'

Daisy's eyes widened. 'Here, in England?'

'No, in Sarajevo, an important archduke has been murdered.'

'Thank goodness it's not in this country. Where is Sara…that place you mentioned?'

'It's in a country called Bosnia, near Austria.'

She put the lid back on the saucepan and turned to her husband. 'I've never heard of it. They're always having fights in that part of the world. What has it got to do with us?'

But she was taken by surprise because Jack looked serious. 'There's talk of war,' he said, 'the Germans are up in arms about the assassination.'

'Huh,' scoffed his wife, 'it will never come to that, not in our country anyway.'

 

But Daisy was wrong and by August, war had broken out. In the first flush of patriotism, men flocked to volunteer but by 1916 conscription had begun. For once Daisy counted Jack's accident as a blessing. He would not be able to go to war and neither would her son because at fifteen he was too young. She realised they would face shortages but as they lived in an area abundant with market gardens they would not starve.

As the conflict progressed she would lie awake at night feeling guilty for her own good fortune when her friends received news of missing husbands or sons. Then one day Mrs Durrant received the dreaded telegram informing her that her grandson, Jimmy, had been killed in action. The roles were reversed and now it was Daisy's turn to do the comforting.

By this time, Teddy was working as a delivery boy for a local butcher. Jack was delighted that his son had found this position and encouraged him to work hard and learn the trade. But with the progress of the War meat became scarce and Teddy was laid off. He moped about the house, getting under Daisy's feet and with the difficulty of making sure the family had enough to eat, she was on a short fuse. Mother and son often exchanged harsh words and sometimes, Teddy would stomp out of the house, staying away for hours at a time until Daisy would fear he would never come home.

On one such occasion, he returned looking jubilant.

'Have you found another job?' she cried on seeing his smiling face.

'Not exactly…'

'What d'you mean?'

Jack looked up from his newspaper. 'Answer your mother properly, son.'

For a moment, Teddy was silent then he burst out, 'I've enlisted.'

'What!' both his parents shouted in unison.

'I've joined the army.'

'But you can't, you're only fifteen.'

'Nearly sixteen…' Teddy cheekily corrected his mother.

'Hold your tongue!' Jack threw the newspaper onto the floor and leapt up from his chair. 'I should box your ears you impudent young whippersnapper.'

Teddy stood his ground. He had felt the hand of his father many times during his childhood but he wasn't going to back down now. Praying that Jack wouldn't notice the trembling in his legs, he thrust out his chin and said defiantly, 'It's too late; you can't do anything about it. I pick up my uniform tomorrow.'

'No!' Daisy's high-pitched shriek brought Madge running down the stairs from her bedroom.

'What's happened?' she demanded.

Teddy turned to his sister, seeking support. 'I've joined up. I want to do my bit for the country.'

Madge's eyes widened with shock. 'But Teddy, they don't accept fifteen-year-olds.'

Edging towards the door, he insisted again, 'Nearly sixteen, I said I was eighteen and they believed me.'

Daisy turned to her husband. 'Jack, do something.'

Slowed by his artificial foot, Jack took a step towards his son but the boy was too quick for him and before he was halfway across the room, Teddy had rushed out slamming the door behind him. The next day, Jack tried to countermand his son's recruitment but it turned out that the enlistment couldn't be undone and Teddy was sent off for training the following week.

 

For the next month, Daisy went about her chores with tears in her eyes. She couldn't understand why Jack hadn't been able to stop Teddy and no amount of protest on his part would convince her that he had really tried to rectify the situation. She had always been proud of her son who was tall for his age. She was sorry now that people had always taken him for two or three years older than his actual age.

After the third month, he wrote saying that he was being posted abroad although he had no idea where he was going. Don't worry, he wrote, I know how to take care of myself. Besides it will all be over by Christmas.

He meant the War but sadly it turned out to be his life.

 

Daisy opened the door. The telegraph boy handed her the telegram and ran off down the road. She knew him. He was Seth Hunter's boy who had joined the Post Office after leaving school.

She stood in the hallway for several minutes unable to bring herself to open the envelope. It could mean he's been wounded and that they've taken him to a field hospital she told herself. She slit the envelope open with her nail and read the dreaded words: Killed in Action.

Stumbling into the living room, she slumped onto an upright chair, placing the flat of her hand on the table for support, just as she had done sixteen years earlier, in the days before Teddy was born. Her mind conjured up a horrendous image of her little boy lying in a muddy trench, his mangled body covered with blood. She felt nausea rising and rushed to the sink, wiping her mouth with her apron afterwards and returning to take up her place by the table.

Madge found her like this on her return from work. 'What's the matter, Ma?' she cried on seeing her mother's motionless figure. Then she saw the telegram still clutched in Daisy's hand. Snatching it up she read the brief message. 'Ma, when did this come?'

When Daisy remained silent, Madge turned on her heel and left the house running all the way to the station where her father was on duty. Out of breath, she picked up her skirt and climbed the steps to the station entrance. This was a quiet time of day; the homeward-bound rush had not yet started. Tearfully, she pushed the telegram under the glass partition, just as Bert came into the kiosk to join Jack.

'No!' Jack's gulp of anguish echoed around the tiny room.

'What is it?' Bert took the telegram from him. 'Take your daughter home, Jack; I'll cover the rest of your shift.'

Numbly, Jack snatched his coat off the hook behind the door and left the ticket-office, passing in front of his daughter without greeting her. He strode as fast as his artificial foot would allow him with Madge running along behind him, just as she used to when she was a little girl.

Daisy heard the front door open and, jolted out of her catatonic trance she rushed to greet her husband, throwing herself into his arms. But he thrust her away and marched through to the garden, drawing his packet of Craven As out of his pocket as he went. His wife and daughter stared after him until, all at once, Daisy crumpled to the floor and burst into tears. Madge crouched down next to her then gently helped her to her feet. She guided her mother upstairs and led her to the bed.

'You rest, Ma,' she said. 'I'll make you a cup of tea.'

From the kitchen Madge could hear Daisy's heaving sobs. They seemed to reverberate throughout the house. This must be what it's like when an earthquake strikes, thought Madge as she struck a match and lit the gas under the kettle. She busied herself opening the cupboard and getting out three cups and saucers, placing them neatly in a line with a teaspoon on each saucer. She poured the required amount of milk into the cups: lots for Pa, a mere drain for Ma and something in the middle for her. She got out the sugar basin, replenishing the contents and even reached for the biscuit tin. These small tasks kept her from breaking down. If she let go too, where would they be?

She took her father's tea out to him. There was a biscuit - one of his favourite's - balanced on the saucer but his hand shook so much as he took it from her that the biscuit landed on the ground. He didn't say a word. Madge went back indoors and using a tray, she climbed the stairs taking care not to slop any of the tea into the saucers.

Daisy was propped up on the bed, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Heaving sobs still rent from her throat but she managed to give her daughter a grateful smile.

'Thank you, darling,' she muttered. 'I need to know what happened; do you think they will tell us?'

Madge didn't know what to say. Questions were spinning around her mind too but she didn't know what the procedure was. Would the War Office issue details of fallen men?

 

The weeks that followed were a nightmare for Madge. At so young an age she was ill-equipped to cope with such devastating grief. In the insurance office where she worked, she had seen people torn apart by news from the Front and, being blessed with a sympathetic nature, she was one of the first to offer a shoulder to cry on. But getting a direct hit with news like this was a different matter. She knew her mother was putting on a brave face; going about her daily chores with her usual vigour, greeting acquaintances with her usual smile, accepting awkward condolences from neighbours with her usual grace.

She was more worried about her father. He had withdrawn from both his wife and daughter. He barely spoke and started coming home from work later than usual. Daisy and Madge knew he was spending more time in the pub although he never appeared to be drunk.

A few months later, one spring day, he failed to return at all. By ten in the evening, Daisy was at her wits end. She told Madge to hold the fort while she scoured the local public houses. Entering such establishments was alien to Daisy but, plucking up courage, she made her way to the George and Dragon where she knew her husband sometimes went. Ignoring the drinkers' stares she went to the bar and asked if anybody had seen Jack.

One of the men grunted, 'Not today, missus, try the Hare and Hounds.'

She left the George and Dragon and, hitching up her skirt, ran through the dark streets to the Hare and Hounds. On reaching the pub she paused, panting for breath on the doorstep. Her courage almost failed her for this was a lively alehouse frequented by rough and ready fishermen whose language, she felt sure, was not fit for a lady's ears.

I have to do this for Jack's sake, she told herself and, taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door, entering into a low-ceilinged, beamed saloon. A haze of cigarette smoke hung over the occupants. There was a hush as she entered and all heads turned in her direction. Doing her best to look composed, Daisy approached the bar.

'Erm, excuse me, barman,' she said in a low voice, 'but have you seen my husband lately?'

Before she could even give his name, there was a guffaw of laughter from a group of men seated at a nearby table. 'Why, missus, have you mislaid him?'

Daisy fought to control her welling tears. 'His name's Jack and he some…sometimes come…comes here,' she stuttered.

'There are a lot of Jacks around here, which one in particular?' This banter from the barman raised another chorus of laughter and a clink of tankards.

Daisy clenched her fists. 'He's tall and good-looking, his hair's dark and he walks with…'

'Oh,' said the barman, 'you mean Peg Leg Jack.'

Daisy gasped. So this is how they saw her wonderful husband! She felt the blood rush to her head and was forced to thrust out a hand to the bar counter to steady herself. This silenced the men and one of them stepped forward and guided her to a bench, telling her to lower her head to allow the dizziness to recede. Some of the others crowded round.

'Get the lady some water, Al,' shouted a beefy fisherman, while another man placed a cushion behind her back.

The barman produced a flagon of ice cold water, which was passed from one gnarled hand to the next until it reached Daisy. The laughter that had greeted her had now turned to concern.

'What's going on?' A blowsy-looking woman appeared in a doorway behind the bar.

'The lady's had a funny turn, Trixie.'

With a swish of her serge skirt, the woman lifted the counter flap and came out from behind the bar. 'Stand back! Give her some space,' she ordered and the men surrounding Daisy moved away to allow her room to pass.

The big man provided information, saying 'She says she's looking for her missing husband, Trix.'

Trixie sat down on the bench next to Daisy, revealing as she did so a bulging cleavage. She put her arm around her shoulders and said, 'Here, love, what's the matter?'

This unexpected kindness was too much for Daisy. Looking into the woman's concerned brown eyes, she spilt out the whole story.

Trixie listened, nodding sympathetically. Then she took charge. 'Look to it, lads, organise a search party.' She gesticulated to the onlookers. 'You three take the west side of town and the rest of you go and search the east side.' She pointed at a man snoozing in the corner. 'Mick, you lazy good-for-nothing, wake up and escort the lady home.'

At Trixie's command, the drinkers, gulped down their ale and sprang to life while Mick, blinking wearily, dragged himself to his feet and shuffled over.

'Where d'you live, love?' asked Trixie and when Daisy told her she glowered at Mick and said, 'Make sure the lady gets home safe and sound.' When he started to protest, she added, 'Move yourself, you bleeding bastard.'

Normally, Daisy would have been shocked at hearing such language from a member of her own sex but all she could do now was smile gratefully. Getting to her feet, she took Mick's proffered arm and let him lead her out of the pub into the street, ignoring the lingering smell of fish that seemed to ooze from his every pore.

 

After Mick had left her in Madge's care, Daisy did her best to calm down convincing herself that the voluntary search party would track Jack down and bring him home. The hours dragged and when there was still no news by the early hours she sent Madge off to bed and went to lie down herself. But neither of them managed to sleep and Daisy was pleased when her daughter crept into bed beside her.

'Pa will turn up tomorrow, Ma, he'd never miss work,' said Madge in a bid to comfort her, but in the morning Bert sent word that Jack hadn't reported for work.

'This isn't like Jack,' he said, 'he's usually so reliable. Maybe you should contact the Police.'

Two days later, the Police discovered Jack's rucksack behind a beach hut. His body turned up further along the coast, discovered by a group of schoolboys who came across it when they were foraging for crabs on Shoreham Beach. Hidden by a mound of seaweed, it had remained unnoticed for several days.

 

 

Mother and daughter were devastated. Things like this happened to other people, not to their family. The pair talked for hours trying to make sense of it.

'I should have seen the signs,' lamented Daisy.

'How could you, Ma? Pa didn't behave differently the day he left.'

Daisy wrung her hands. 'But he'd been acting strange for ages.' The tears spilled out and ran down her cheeks. 'He was never the same after Teddy died.'

'You mustn't blame yourself. Teddy was your child too and you didn't fall apart.'

Her mother wiped her eyes with a corner of her apron. 'But your pa adored that boy. When Teddy was born he was so happy to have a son.' She looked up realising how hurtful this would seem to Madge. 'He loved you both so much,' she added, touching her daughter's hand.

Practicalities took over. There was a funeral to arrange and Daisy's niggling worry was that after Jack's funeral the Railway Company would want her to move out. But thanks to the backing of Jack's faithful work mates the Company agreed that Daisy could stay there for the time being. This left Daisy feeling insecure, always afraid that a letter would arrive telling her to leave, but when a year went by and then another and this didn't happen she began to believe that she would see out her time in Number Seven.

The years rolled on and Madge started dating a recently demobbed army officer called Charlie Bilston who had joined the insurance company where she worked. Daisy was a little wary of Charlie. She felt that his family must be a cut above their working class roots. She voiced her misgivings. 'Madge dear, Charlie's parents must be quite well-to-do if he used to be an officer.'

Her daughter hastened to reassure her. 'Some men rose from the ranks very quickly during the War,' she said, a reminder to Daisy that many of the young soldiers died very soon after being sent to the Front.

Gradually, Charlie charmed Daisy by doing odd jobs around the house, proving to be handy with a hammer and screwdriver and she was genuinely pleased when the pair became engaged.

One spring day, Madge came home from work bursting with excitement. 'Ma, you'd better go and buy yourself a new dress because me and Charlie are getting married in June.'

Daisy gasped. 'That's wonderful news, darling but it's a bit sudden, isn't it? And where will you live? Of course, you could move in here. There's plenty of room.'

'I've got some more news for you, Ma,' Madge's eyes twinkled, 'Charlie's put the deposit down on a house.'

Daisy looked startled. 'A deposit on a house, can he afford that?'

'Yes, isn't it exciting?'

'Why didn't you tell me before?'

'We wanted it to be a surprise.'

'Well, it certainly is. Where is this house?'

Madge hesitated before replying. 'It's on the east side of town but don't worry Ma...'

Daisy's heart was pounding for despite the joyful news she couldn't help panicking that her daughter would not be living close by. Madge must have read her thoughts. 'We won't be very far away, Ma, only a stone's throw. You'll be able to come and visit us, stay for the weekend.'

But Daisy couldn't assimilate the news. 'Is there a bus that goes that way?' she asked.

'Well, you'll have to change buses down in town, but don't worry I'll check the timetables for you.'

'Oh dear, I shall miss you so much,' sniffed Daisy.

She turned her head away to hide her tears but Madge noticed and, despite her excitement, she felt the prick of tears too. Daisy recovered first. 'Dearie me,' she said. 'June! Then we don't have much time to plan the wedding. It will have to be St John's. We must arrange for the bans to be read at once…'

'Ma!'

'Yes.'

'Everything has been taken care of. We're getting married at St Paul's in Brighton and…' Madge's eyes shone with excitement. '…Charlie's father has booked the reception in a Brighton hotel.'

'No…no!

'What's the matter?'

'A Brighton hotel, I can't afford that! Why don't we have it in the tea rooms at the end of the pier? They do lovely sandwiches and cakes.'

'Sorry, Ma but it's all arranged,' muttered Madge tightly, 'and it won't cost you a penny because Charlie's father is footing the bill.'

Daisy's lower lip quivered, then she brightened. 'I'll look out my wedding dress for you to wear. Do you remember? I showed it to you once.'

Madge look embarrassed. 'Please don't bother to get it out, you see Charlie's mother's taking me up to the West End to choose a dress.'

'What?'

Madge reached for Daisy's hand. 'Why don't you come too? That way you can meet Mrs Bilston and…'

Daisy drew away from her daughter, dismissing the suggestion with a flick of her wrist. 'No, dear, you go ahead and choose your wedding dress with Mrs…Mrs Bilston.'

'Ma, I know you're disappointed but fashions have changed, you know; I don't want a floor-length dress, I want an up-to-the-minute frock with a short skirt. We've seen a lovely one with a handkerchief style hemline and a low back.'

'We?'

Madge lowered her gaze realising that things weren't going well. 'Mrs Bilston is very keen on the latest fashion; she buys Vogue every month,' she said in an attempt to justify her actions.

Clearly this didn't impress Daisy, who nodded and moved swiftly towards the kitchen, calling back, 'I must get supper ready.'

After that, conversation between mother and daughter was awkward. Both women were feeling hurt but as the big day drew closer, they knew they would have to put aside their differences.

'I've never even stepped inside a hotel,' complained Daisy for the umpteenth time. 'I won't know what to do, how to behave. I shall feel uncomfortable.'

Madge tried to reassure her. 'It's only going to be family and friends.'

Daisy stifled a sob. 'His family, your friends, you mean, but what about me? I'll be all alone.'

Exasperated, Madge said, 'Ma, Charlie and I wanted you to meet Mr and Mrs Bilston but you said you'd rather wait until the wedding.' Her mother's doleful expression prompted her to add, 'But don't worry you'll feel at home in next to no time.' 

But it did worry Daisy. Charlie's parents were from North London, his father was a solicitor, his mother was a school teacher and most of their friends worked in offices. Daisy who knew nothing about office work had been terribly proud when Madge had passed her shorthand-typing exams and found a job as a stenographer with an insurance company. Looking back over the past few months, she realised that Madge had been spending a lot of time with Charlie's parents. She couldn't help noticing that her daughter's attitude and manner of speech had changed. She had started using expressions unfamiliar to Daisy, expressions which she associated with toffs in matinées she had seen at the Picturedrome.

And Daisy did feel uncomfortable at the wedding ceremony, especially at the reception. Madge did her best to keep an eye on her but there was so much going on and so many people to greet that Daisy got overlooked. Charlie's mother made an effort to introduce her to various relatives but Daisy had never learnt the art of small talk and found herself tongue-tied. Anyone who approached her soon gave up trying to make conversation and drifted away. She felt like a fly on the wall. Everybody was laughing and joking, talking about things she knew nothing about. She wanted to go home but knew that was impossible. Eventually, she was rescued by Charlie's grandfather who came to sit down beside her.

'Oh dear, a lady all alone,' he said, offering her a cigarette.

'No thank you, I don't smoke,' she replied.

'Can I get you a drink?'

'Lemonade please...'

'My goodness, dear lady, I think a glass of Champagne is more in order.'

Before Daisy could protest, he headed in the direction of the bar returning with two glasses of bubbly.

'Let me introduce myself,' he said, 'my name's Charles, my grandson was named after me. Tell me Mrs Webster…'

'Daisy, please...' she replied after taking a sip of her drink and rather enjoying it.

'Tell me Daisy, you sound like a Londoner? Which part of the great metropolis do you hail from?

For a moment, Daisy was flummoxed. What did he mean: the great metropolis? 'Oh,' she gasped, 'I was born in Highgate but we moved to the South Coast when my husband was offered a job down here. I've been here ever since.'

'You're a war widow?'

Daisy shook her head and wished she hadn't. Until now, the only alcohol she had ever tasted was the occasional glass of port and lemon.

'My husband died as a result of an accident,' she explained, hoping he would leave it at that but he seemed intent on drawing her out.

'Dear me, how did that happen?'

'He drowned, and…and I'd rather not talk about it if you don't mind.'

'I'm so sorry, dear lady I didn't mean to distress you. I can't apologise enough.'

The three-piece band started to play and couples moved onto the dance floor.

'Would you care to dance, Daisy?'

He took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. She had always loved dancing but once Jack had lost his foot, he had become rather clumsy so dancing had been out of the question. Five minutes later when the band paused and the best man announced that it was time to cut the wedding cake, Daisy found herself standing beside the newly married couple with another glass of champagne in her hand. She felt more relaxed now and glowed with pride as everybody clustered around her daughter. Madge looked lovely in her fashionable calf-length dress in cream lace. An Alice band of flowers adorned her cropped auburn hair. Daisy had been heart-broken when her daughter had decided to have her long hair cut. Nothing would have induced her to chop off her own long hair, which still retained a hint of auburn although there was plenty of grey showing through. What a beautiful daughter she had and, one day, there might be a grandchild or two to brighten her life.

 

 

Daisy was lonely without Madge. How she wished she had brothers or sisters. Since Jack's death, she had rarely been in contact with his side of the family and her own parents had died several years earlier. There were a few distant cousins of her mother's somewhere in the London area but she had long ago lost touch with them.

During the summer months she found solace in the garden. The area nearest the house benefited from full sun from June to September and Daisy took advantage of this by digging up part of the lawn and planting an assortment of flowers. She would often sit out there in a deckchair with an afternoon cup of tea watching the butterflies and bees flitting from plant to plant.

The winters were the worst. When it got dark by four o'clock, she felt there was nothing to live for. She would look back to the days when Jack had arrived home from work and related the goings on of his day at the station. To fill the gap, she considered taking in a lodger but thought the Railway Company might not like that and, although she listened to the wireless and played her records - she now had quite a collection - the days dragged. She washed curtains that had no need of a wash, she cleaned windows that she'd cleaned only days earlier and she constantly rearranged ornaments.

One day when dusting, she got out Jack's favourite record and placed it on the turntable. The words of When You Were Sweet Sixteen took her back to when she had teased him about playing it so often. She picked up a cushion, hugging it to herself and started waltzing around the room, swirling her skirt against the furniture. But the words were too nostalgic and she sank down onto the settee and burst into tears.

The record ended, leaving the turntable whirring. It reminded her of when she and Jack had met. As a special treat, her father had taken her to the Easter Fair at Hampstead Heath. It was so exciting. They had tried out all the rides, laughed until they cried in the Hall of Mirrors, and she had screamed at the top of her voice during a ride through the House of Horrors. It was when they were having a go at the Coconut Shy that a young man came to stand beside her. Daisy desperately wanted to win a prize but after three failed goes, she turned away disappointed.

'Can I have a go?' said the handsome young man at her shoulder.

Jack made several attempts without success but it didn't matter because when she looked up into his blue eyes, she knew this was the man she wanted to marry. Under her father's watchful eye, they had exchanged addresses and Jack had courted her for three months before her parents agreed that they could get married. Jack had promised to take her back to Hampstead Fair one Easter, but the birth of two children had put paid to that idea.

Then change came in a way that Daisy least expected. A letter arrived one day informing the tenants of the entire terrace that the Railway Company had decided to put the properties on the market.

'As the current resident, you are being afforded the opportunity to make an offer of purchase in advance of the house being advertised on the open market. Your offer will be considered most favourably,' the letter read. It went on to say that they had three months to find other accommodation.

 

Daisy was thrown into panic. Leave Number Seven! When the Railway Company had failed to turn her out after Jack's death, she had hoped she would end her days there. All her memories were locked up in this house; her children had been born there, her husband's funeral had been conducted from there. How could she settle in any other place? Madge found her in tears on her next visit.

'Ma, maybe it's a good thing,' she said, 'after all, this house is much too big for you now. You spend your life cleaning rooms that are never used. Charlie and I will help you find a nice little flat somewhere nearer the centre of town within walking distance of the beach.'

'But I don't want to move,' wailed Daisy, 'I'll be lonely…'

Madge placed an arm around her mother's shoulders. 'No lonelier than you are living here all by yourself. Why, only the other week, you told me the neighbours you used to chat to had moved away.'

Daisy shook her head and sniffed into her handkerchief. 'Living somewhere else wouldn't be the same, I'm used to this house and it has such fond memories for me.'

Her mother's words almost brought Madge to tears too but she knew that inevitably Daisy would have to move out. Selfishly, her thoughts turned to her own situation; she and Charlie had decided they didn't want children although of course she hadn't mentioned this to her mother. They were a reclusive couple who enjoyed one another's company almost to the exclusion of everybody else. She was excessively possessive of her good-looking husband and didn't want to share him. In an attempt to justify her feelings, she reasoned that despite Charlie's efforts to please Daisy they had never quite hit it off. Hardening her heart, she tried to press her mother into moving to a flat, but it was no good.

'You can come and live with us, Ma,' she whispered finally.

Daisy straightened up. 'Won't Charlie have something to say about that?'

'I'll talk him round,'

'What about my furniture, all my knick-knacks?' asked Daisy, thinking of the mementos she had collected over the years.

Madge took a deep breath. 'Of course you can bring your souvenirs and we might have room for one or two larger items.'

'I wouldn't want to part with my settee.'

Madge felt a mixture of sympathy and irritation. She knew how hard it was going to be for her mother to move out of Number Seven. 'Well, maybe you could have one of the larger bedrooms so that it will fit in,' she said.

After a cup of tea and a piece of fruit cake, much to Madge's relief, Daisy cheered up but as she left the house, she couldn't help wondering what Charlie was going to say when she told him.

 

A couple of weeks later, a second-hand dealer came to collect most of the furniture. Reminded of the day she and Jack had moved in, Daisy stood on the doorstep with Madge watching the van drive away. When she and Jack had moved in there had been very little to manoeuvre through the narrow hallway; just a bed, a table and a couple of chairs. This time there was an endless stream of furniture being carried out. She couldn't help wondering where it was going to end up.

She was still smarting over a disagreement she and Madge had had earlier in the day. Before the dealer arrived, Madge had brought up the subject of the box-room.

'Ma, what about all that stuff in the attic?' she said.

'I'm keeping it,' replied Daisy.

'But Ma what's the point of keeping all those old things from our childhood?' protested Madge.

'They've got wonderful memories for me; I don't want to part with them.'

Madge threw up her hands in exasperation. 'Cots, prams, baby clothes! You don't need those any more, and what about the toys and story books? Why don't you give them to the family along the road; they've got a couple of kiddies. I'm sure they'd like them.'

'What about you and Charlie? They might come in handy for you one of these days.'

Madge tried to be tactful. 'Ma, we probably won't have any children,' she said quietly.

Daisy misunderstood. 'You never know, stranger things have happened. Just as you give up hope, a baby comes along. You may be twenty-seven but that's not too late.'

Madge heaved a sigh. The same conversation had been repeated on several occasions and she knew that her mother would not give up the idea of one day cradling a grandchild in her arms. She had never explained that she and Charlie didn't intend to start a family; it was easier to prevaricate so that her mother still had hope. The trouble was the contents of the box-room would no doubt end up in their loft and she knew Charlie wouldn't like that.

She ushered her mother back indoors, saying cheerily, 'Well, Ma, there's a lot more space now; how on earth did you and Pa collect so much rubbish?'

'It's not rubbish to me,' retorted Daisy.

Realising her mistake, Madge hastened to rectify the situation. 'Oh dear, I didn't mean rubbish I meant possessions.'

'You meant rubbish,' snapped her mother.

 

It was arranged that Madge and Charlie would pick Daisy up the next day but she couldn't bear to spend the hours ahead in idle reminiscence so donning her apron she set about cleaning the entire house from top to bottom even though she had already done it the day before. She washed the downstairs windows and scrubbed the doorstep, giving it a polish with red gumption and swept the path. Even the wrought-iron gate was given a vigorous dusting.

At eight o'clock she went to bed to spend a restless night until the first signs of dawn filtered through the net curtains. By the time her daughter and son-in-law came to collect her, she was waiting in the hall with her packed carpet bag on the floor beside her. She had dressed with care: a tailored white blouse with a sombre black skirt and coat, topped by a matching veiled hat, an outfit which seemed fitting for the occasion.

Madge and Charlie arrived with a small van to transport her last remaining possessions. Dry-eyed, she stood, arms folded across her chest, watching the procedure of loading her bed, the settee and the gramophone onto the van, together with a box containing her collection of china ornaments and another crammed with toys and baby clothes.

'Come on, Ma,' urged Madge taking her arm, 'the taxi's waiting.'

Daisy didn't move.

'Hurry up you two,' called Charlie as he gave the go-ahead for the van to leave so that they could follow in the taxi.

Daisy stood transfixed until Madge firmly closed the front door behind them and guided her mother out to the waiting cab.

 

*****

 

 

Next up: ‘BETWEEN THE WARS’