For a Father's Pride (6 page)

‘Penny for them.’ Bob spoke softly as he watched Daisy look around her and smile.

‘Sorry, my love. I was just thinking of the day I came here.’ She patted her sweetheart’s hand. Bob was a good man. No matter what anyone said, the age difference didn’t
matter to her. He might be in his fifties, but he was a caring man who never asked about her past and, most importantly of all, he was dependable.

‘Aye, well, I know nowt about that – you never say anything about then – but I know it’s been a grand day today, and I’ve got the bonniest lass in the dale on my
arm. I’ve a bit of news and all, and a question. But I don’t want to spoil our day by saying something daft, so I don’t know if I dare ask it.’ He squeezed Daisy’s
hand even tighter, before curling his long grey hair behind his ears and running his hands down the length of his sideburns.

‘You never say anything daft, my dear, and you certainly couldn’t spoil this day.’ Daisy smiled at her beau. She’d known him for over a year now and she felt comfortable
in his presence – the only man she had felt easy with since Clifford Middleton’s assault on her.

‘Well, it’s like this. I’ve been offered a job at Blea Moor signal box. They are moving me from Horton, and I can have the house there that goes with the job.’ Bob
paused, looking at Daisy’s face.

‘That’s good news, Bob. You will be nearer, and you can get out of that rented room that you hate.’ Daisy twiddled the ribbon under her best hat and smiled at the serious-faced
Bob.

‘Aye, it’s good news. But what they said was that they preferred me not to be single. What they think I’m going to get up to at my age, I don’t know! But I was thinking:
we’ve been walking out for some time, and I know you are only young, and that I’m an old man and folk talk about us, making out I’m a cradle-snatcher.’ Bob hung his head as
Daisy smiled shyly. He blushed and stammered, before blurting out his intentions. ‘Damn it, Daisy, what I’m trying to say is: will you marry me?’ He stood back in amazement at his
outburst.

Daisy looked at him, her mouth open. ‘Oh, Bob!’

‘I know – I’m stupid to even think it. You deserve much better than me; you’ve got all your life in front of you.’ Bob shook his head and looked up again at the
massive granite arches, to hide the feelings that were written all over his face.

‘It’s the suddenness, stupid. You took me by surprise. How could anyone want me?’ Daisy’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I don’t know: what do I say?’ She
pulled on his hand and did a little jig, assessing her feelings and what she should say. ‘But, yes; my answer is yes . . . Of course it’s yes! And I’ll be the perfect wife and
I’ll always be there for you, no matter what anyone says about the age difference.’

Bob lifted Daisy off her feet and swung her round like a twirling roundabout, her skirts billowing in the wind as they hugged and hugged again.

‘I’ll always be there for you, Daisy. I’ll never let you down, and you’ll want for nothing, my love. You’ve made this old bachelor a very happy man.’ He
squeezed her tightly and grinned, because he’d got his woman.

Daisy hummed and sang under her breath all the way back to her room at Gearstones, giving the drinkers standing outside the alehouse a more than generous welcome, before going
inside to the main house and climbing the stairs to flop onto her bed. She was to be married – and have a house of her own – with a man she knew would look after her and treat her
right. She lay on the metal-sprung bed that creaked at every turn, and looked around the room that had been her home for the three years that she had been at Gearstones Lodge.

They had been good years, full to the brim with events, despite there being illness, poverty and despair as navvies lost their lives building the iron rail-line through the Dales. But along with
the bad times came hope and friendship, especially the friendship and support that the Pratt family had shown her. She remembered the morning she’d crept downstairs to witness Jenny and Mike
talking about her, and how she had thought how crude and rough Jenny was. In fact she’d been just the opposite, and had shown Daisy nothing but kindness. A pang of guilt washed over her.
She’d have to tell Jenny of her plans to marry Bob. Once she was married she’d have her own house to run, and she wouldn’t have time to work at Gearstones Lodge. Her place was by
her man’s side, attending to his every need in the square-built house that she knew to be the signalman’s, across the track from the signal box at Blea Moor. She wouldn’t be on
her own, as there were two small cottages for the plate-layers and their families nearby, and she knew both families well. Thoughts about planning her wedding dress, and decorating her house,
danced around her head as she tossed and turned. She tried hard to find sleep, knowing that she had to be awake early because it was Ivy’s day off and she was the cook in the morning.

Morning came all too soon, as the grey fingers of dawn crept into Daisy’s bedroom. She felt tired and didn’t want to go down to the kitchen and start her usual routine. She eased her
body out of bed and smiled again at the thought of marrying Bob, then splashed her face in cold water from the ewer on her washstand. Pulling back the curtains, she let the morning’s weak
light in and gazed at the flanks of Whernside. The huge mountain outline was crisp and sharp in the morning’s light, but soon she’d be waking up in her own home directly under its
menacing scars, then making breakfast for her man and cleaning the house. She’d never thought that day would come.

The warmth from the kitchen met her as she crept downstairs and set about the business of lighting the oven. The previous day’s embers were still glowing slightly as she laid new kindling
and punched the bellows, to get a good roar from the flames. The lodge was quiet – not a sound was to be heard. It would be like that for some time yet, and Daisy appreciated the time to
herself. She’d loved this kitchen, and the hours she’d spent in it since her arrival that stormy night. Her thoughts often wandered back to her home – back to the days when her
father had been her best friend and protector – and then her thoughts clouded as she thought about the way he had treated her when he’d found her with child. The beatings and cruelty
that he and her mother had shown, and the death of the baby, had left her feeling bereaved of a family’s love, and it was at quiet times like these that she cast her mind back to those
terrible days. She brushed a tear from her eye as she pounded the dough; it was no good dwelling on the past. It was time to look to the future.

‘Morning, Daisy. Mmm . . . that bread smells good. And just listen to that.’ Jenny joined Daisy in the kitchen, still trying to pin her hair in place as she bent
down to smell the newly baked bread.

‘Here, let me.’ Daisy wiped her hands and helped Jenny place her pins in her bun on the back of her head. ‘Listen to what?’ she enquired, as she deftly placed the hair
pins in place.

‘Exactly – peace! Would you believe it? Jonathan is worn out from going rabbiting with his father, and baby Ben is dead to the world. Though what a difference in babies: Ben is so
good, compared to Jonathan, who was Satan, I’m sure.’

‘He was a handful, I’ll grant you that, but never Satan.’ Daisy smiled as she poured Jenny a cup of tea.

Jenny drank deeply and smiled. ‘What would I do, without you and Ivy? Two young boys take some looking after, and then there are all the lodgings to keep an eye on. At least, since the
navvies have moved on, our rooms are let to respectable workmen. But still, they take some upkeep.’

‘I’m sure you’d manage without either one of us. You can turn your hand to most things. I sometimes think it was out of pity that you kept me on.’ Daisy tested the water,
for she wanted to know how much Jenny relied on her. She was dreading having to tell her that she was going to be married and leave Gearstones Lodge.

‘Nonsense! I knew you’d be the wonderful cook that you are. Poor Ivy is sometimes quite jealous of your skills. She should know that I’d never see her out of a job, as
she’s a distant relation, but it’s your cooking that the lodgers always ask for.’

Daisy hesitated. ‘Oh! You might as well know, because I can’t keep my news a secret any longer.’ She clattered the spoon into her mixing bowl and slumped into a chair.
‘Bob will not be able to keep it to himself, anyway.’ She looked sheepishly at Jenny. ‘Bob and I are to be married. He’s got the signalman’s house at Blea Moor, and we
are to live there.’ She waited for Jenny’s response.

‘Oh, Daisy, that’s lovely news. There’s me, blurting on about how we can’t do without you, and all along you knew you wanted to tell me this. Congratulations, my love,
you’ll make him a happy man. He’s a bit steady, but he’s a good ’un, and there’s not many of them about.’ Jenny rushed over and hugged Daisy. ‘We’ll
have to make a special day for you. By heck, I’d better order some more ale. And of course you’ll have the reception here!’ She chuckled.

‘Trouble is, Jenny, I will be leaving Gearstones Lodge. I’ll need to look after my man.’ Daisy looked serious.

‘Aye, well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now, when have you set your wedding for?’ Jenny tried to skirt around Daisy’s departure.

‘We are going to see the vicar today, after dinner time, so I’ll know more then.’ She was surprised that Jenny was taking it all in her stride and felt that a weight had been
lifted. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll stay as long as you want me – that is, until you get a replacement – because I know you are run off your feet with the bairns, and the
number of guests you have lodging. I’m only living up the line, after all.’

‘Well, we’ll make it a wedding to remember. I’ll go upstairs and get dressed and tell Mike the news. He’ll be so happy for you.’ Jenny smiled before climbing back
up the stairs. Unbeknown to Daisy, she shook her head in disbelief when she was halfway up. Daisy was marrying a man more than twice her age. A pretty young thing like Daisy should have a handsome
lad on her arm. Still, if Bob made her happy, that was all that mattered. You could tell that he adored her. Perhaps young men weren’t for Daisy; it took all sorts to make a world, and
perhaps she felt safe with Bob. She’d try and get Daisy to stay on as her cook, just for a little while after she was wed, in the hope that she would soon find out what a lonely life it would
be up at Blea Moor signal box, just running a house for an ageing husband.

‘Well, that’s settled then: three weeks on Saturday.’ Bob held Daisy tight. ‘Are you happy with that, my love?’

‘Yes, of course I am. It means our wedding can be a quiet affair. That’s what I wanted. I’ve no family, and I’m not one for fuss.’ Daisy smiled and gazed into her
beloved’s eyes. All she wanted was her man.

‘I’ll be good to you, my love, and you’ll want for nothing. I know I’m no millionaire, but we’ll be happy, I swear.’

‘I know, my darling.’ Daisy held Bob’s hand tight as they walked along the path that led to their new home at Blea Moor. The signal box and the railway cottages stood proud of
the railway line. Around them lay the wide-open spaces of fell-land, with the wild red- and orange-coloured moorland grasses blowing in the summer breeze. It was a bleak place; even now, towards
the end of summer, the wind had a sharp nip to it, just to remind people of the harshness of the fells. The huge, dark chasm of Blea Moor tunnel loomed further down the track, the brickwork around
it coloured red from the iron ore that dripped and seeped in the fell-waters and drained down into the stone-covered track.

‘So, this is it – this is our home, Daisy my dear.’ Bob paused outside the garden gate that formed the entrance to the small garden, stocked lovingly with pansies and
marigolds, plants hardy enough to survive the harsh climate that surrounded the squarely built house. ‘I think you know our neighbours, the Ivesons and the Sunters. Both families are good
folk.’ Bob waved to a woman with ragged children around her feet as she stood outside the doorway of the plate-layers’ cottages. ‘And this is the signal box. Do you want to look
inside? Bert won’t mind.’

Daisy looked across at the white-painted signal box and up at the clear windows, through which she could see the gleaming brass-topped levers of the signals and the round face of the signal
box’s clock. It was an integral part of the smooth running of the railway. The figure of Bert waved his hand at her, as she gazed up at the smoke rising from the signal box’s small
stove. She waved back and smiled.

‘I’d rather look around the house, if you don’t mind?’ Daisy peered through the windows of her new home, trying to look into the rooms inside.

‘I haven’t got the key yet. Next week, the gaffer said, but you can see from outside how big the house is. It’s big enough to hold us two, and perhaps some family, Daisy. What
do you say? A little girl and a boy would make us complete. I’d love a lad, just to show him how to do things and to know he’s mine.’ Bob blushed. He’d never broached the
subject before.

‘We’ll see. I think we should be on our own for a while – not rush into family, not yet.’ Daisy’s voice went cold. She couldn’t possibly think about children
yet, and the one thing she had been dreading was the thought of sex. So far Bob had been nothing but honourable, but she knew that, once married, he would expect things of her. The memory of
Clifford’s rape came rushing back to her, and she shuddered as she recalled his hands wandering over her body. She didn’t know how she would manage it, but there was no way she could
ever have Bob touching her as Clifford had. He would have to be content with friendship – that had been part of his attraction from the start. She’d watched Lizzie, John’s
stepdaughter from Gearstones Lodge, and her beau, Dan, fondling and playing around, and had decided a long time ago that it was not for her; she needed friendship, not lust. Nothing good came of
lust!

‘Daisy, are you listening to me? Bert’s put the kettle on in the box, he’s made us a brew. Now watch out as you cross the line.’ Bob pulled on Daisy’s hand as he
made his way across the ballast and the train track. ‘Watch your skirt don’t get caught in the points. We don’t want you splattered by the mail train that’s nearly
due.’