The Best of Daughters (27 page)

‘You are the lowest of the low, Bowman.'

He grinned with a spark of his old humour. ‘So I've been told.'

‘I'm not interested in you or what you think, but I do want to find Ruby. You must have some idea of where she's gone.'

His cocky attitude changed subtly and was replaced
by a look of seemingly genuine concern. ‘I gave her all the cash I had. It wasn't much but I said I'd give her more for the kid. I would tell you if I knew where she was, but I don't and that's God's honest truth.'

She clenched her fists at her sides. ‘You are quite despicable.'

‘That's not what you thought just a little while ago, my lady. I suppose things are different now that you're about to marry into the aristocracy.'

‘I'm going to find Ruby if it's the last thing I do, and you're going to help me.'

‘Oh, yes? How's that, ma'am? Are you going to get Sherlock Holmes on the case?'

‘That's not funny.' Daisy glared at him in silence for a moment and then it came to her. She turned her attention to the motor car. ‘Who does this belong to?'

‘Major Henderson. It's going back to the Manor House tomorrow.'

‘No it damn well isn't,' Daisy said firmly. ‘You're going to make sure it's roadworthy and tomorrow morning, first thing, you'll deliver it to Rainbow's End. I'm driving up to London to look for Ruby and bring her home.'

His eyes widened and his skin paled beneath his tan. ‘I can't do that. The major would have me shot.'

‘If he doesn't then I will,' Daisy said calmly. ‘Believe me, Bowman, I can handle a firearm. I've been trained to shoot and I'm a good marksman. It would give me enormous satisfaction to put a bullet between your eyes, and I could do it. You'd better believe me.'

He held his hands up in a gesture of submission.
‘Has anyone told you that you look even more beautiful when you've got murder in mind?'

‘I think justice would be a better way to describe it. I don't think a court in the land would convict me of murder.' She backed towards the doorway. ‘I'll expect you with the car at seven sharp tomorrow morning.'

‘And what if I say no?'

‘If you've got a shred of decency in you, Bowman, you'll do this for Ruby. You owe her that at least.'

He made a move towards her, his eyes darkening with desire. ‘You are the only woman I've ever really loved, Daisy Lennox. I was crazy about you before but now I'd give anything to take you in my arms and never let you go.'

The old familiar tug of physical attraction threatened to overwhelm her, but she forced herself to meet his ardent gaze with a stony stare. ‘Seven o'clock tomorrow morning and I want a full petrol tank. If you let me down I'll make your life hell and that's a promise.'

DAISY BARELY REMEMBERED
the walk home, but she had had the satisfaction of seeing Bowman at a loss for words. She knew that she had won that particular battle, but in spite of everything he had done she was finding it impossible to hate him. His faults were legion but she did not believe that in his heart he was a bad man. Perhaps she had seen a flicker of concern in his eyes when he had spoken of Ruby, or maybe it was wishful thinking, but she was certain that he would deliver the car next morning as she had demanded.

She arrived at Rainbow's End to find the house slumbering peacefully, and she set about the mundane task of cooking the evening meal. The simple act of preparing meat and vegetables for the pot calmed her nerves, and by the time Beatrice arrived home Daisy was able to act as though nothing untoward had happened. She did not take her sister into her confidence about her plans to drive to London next day, and she certainly did not mention it to her parents when the family sat round the dinner table that evening. She was, however, concerned to see her father looking thinner than normal, and the lines on his face seemed to have deepened over the past few months, or maybe that was simply her over-active imagination.
He was patently delighted to see her again, and she basked in the approval of both parents.

Victor congratulated her on making a delicious meal and Gwendoline graciously echoed his sentiments, although Daisy could see that it cost her mother a good deal of swallowed pride to admit that her own culinary efforts had been less than successful. Beatrice, as usual, was oblivious to any undercurrents or tensions in the family and she chattered on about the forthcoming harvest supper as if it were far more important than her sister's wedding. Daisy was content to sit back and allow the conversation to flow over her head. Her mind was filled with plans for the following day. She did not bring up the subject until everyone was saying goodnight and preparing to go upstairs to bed. ‘Oh, by the way,' she said casually. ‘I've got to go up to town tomorrow. I'm afraid I forgot to pick up my going away outfit from the fashion house.'

Gwendoline's mouth formed a small circle of surprise. ‘But, darling, surely one of the servants from Grosvenor Square could do that for you and send it down by road or rail.'

‘No, Mother. I'll have to try it on to make certain that the alterations are to my satisfaction. I have to go in person.'

Victor frowned. ‘But how will you travel, Daisy? Surely you don't mean to go on the train?'

‘No, Father. I intend to drive myself. I've arranged to hire a motorcar for the purpose.'

‘A hired car?' Gwendoline shook her head. ‘I don't
like the sound of that, and you shouldn't go alone. Beatrice must accompany you.'

Beatrice opened her mouth as if to protest and then closed it again, looking thoughtful. ‘That might be fun, although I was supposed to be helping Mother Gurney prepare pies for the harvest supper.'

‘Then you mustn't let her down,' Daisy said hastily. ‘I'm sure that's far more important than my going away gown.'

Beatrice gave her a calculating look. ‘On the other hand it would be nice to see London again. I'm getting to be such a country bumpkin. Actually, Daisy, I'd love to come with you. If that's all right with you, of course.'

There was a challenge in Bea's eyes and Daisy knew that she suspected something. She managed a smile. ‘Of course, Bea. We'll go together, but the motor is being delivered early. You must be ready by seven or I'll go without you.'

‘Don't worry, dear sister. I'm used to getting up at crack of dawn. That's what farmers' wives do, you know.'

Bowman pulled up outside the house at seven o'clock on the dot. Daisy was waiting for him at the front door and Beatrice was adjusting her hat in the hall mirror. ‘Hurry up, Bea,' Daisy said impatiently. She was eager to be off before either of her parents realised that it was Bowman who had delivered the motorcar. She hurried down the garden path, acknowledging him briefly as he opened the gate for her. ‘I'll return the car this evening.'

He nodded. ‘I hope you find her.' He put his hand in his pocket and produced a crumpled pound note. ‘Give her this from me. It's all I've got to spare but if you give me her address tell her I'll send her as much as I can afford. My wife bleeds me dry.'

Daisy climbed into the driver's seat. ‘Don't expect me to feel sorry for you.' She beckoned frantically to Beatrice, who was ambling down the path at a snail's pace. ‘Bea. If you don't get into this car now I'm driving off without you.'

Beatrice broke into a run and leapt in beside her. ‘What's the rush?'

‘It's going to take at least four hours to get to London if I keep to the speed limit all the way.'

‘Drive carefully,' Bowman said seriously. ‘And good luck.' He cranked the handle to restart the engine and Daisy drove off without a backward glance.

‘What was all that about?' Beatrice demanded, holding on to her hat. ‘Why did he wish you good luck? What's going on?'

Daisy explained the situation during the long and tedious drive. Their journey was punctuated with frequent stops when the engine boiled over. They had to allow it to cool down before refilling the radiator with water drawn from village pumps or begged from cottagers on the way. Eventually they reached London and Daisy had to concentrate hard, using all her driving skills to negotiate the chaotic traffic conditions. It was past midday when they finally crossed Vauxhall Bridge and entered what to them was foreign territory, south of the river.

‘I don't know how you expect to find her,' Beatrice said, wrinkling her nose as they reached the vinegar works in South Lambeth Road. ‘You don't have a proper address.'

Daisy pulled into the main entrance. ‘I know that her father was employed here and so was Ruby. The chances are that she'd come back to the place she knew, or if she was truly desperate she might have contacted her father. Wait here while I go into the office and enquire.' She alighted from the vehicle without giving her sister a chance to argue, and made her way to an outbuilding with a corrugated iron roof. She entered through the door marked
Office
and found herself in a small room smelling strongly of ink, vinegar and tobacco smoke. A man sat behind a counter with a pipe stuck in the corner of his mouth. He was writing something in a ledger, but he paused briefly to glance at her through a wreath of smoke. ‘Yes? What d'you want?'

It was not the most encouraging beginning but Daisy explained that she was trying to trace a family friend, and to her relief he responded to the name.

‘Flagg,' he said, taking the pipe from his mouth. ‘I knows Ernie Flagg all right. You don't want to get on the wrong side of him.'

‘And his daughter, Ruby? Does she work for you now?'

He shook his head. ‘Left here some time ago. Got mixed up with them blue-stocking suffragettes. Bad business.'

In the end she managed to glean the information
that Ernie Flagg no longer worked there but the clerk somewhat unwillingly gave her his address, adding a warning to hold on to her purse if she was going to venture into Balaclava Villa. She thanked him and hurried out to re-join Beatrice who was looking decidedly nervous.

‘Thank goodness you've come,' she said, clutching her dolly bag as if she were afraid someone might snatch it from her. ‘There are some rough-looking types wandering round here. I thought you were never coming out of that shack.'

‘Balaclava Villa,' Daisy said, cranking the engine and jumping into the driver's seat. ‘It's not far from here, according to the man behind the desk. It's where Ruby's father lives.'

‘I'm starving,' Beatrice moaned. ‘Can't we stop for lunch somewhere first?'

Daisy drove out through the gates into the main street. ‘Oh, yes, and where do you suggest we try to buy lunch in this neighbourhood? No wonder Ruby wanted to get away from all this.'

Beatrice subsided into a sulky silence while Daisy negotiated the narrow streets, avoiding the piles of horse dung which were covered in seething masses of blowflies and bluebottles. The stench from the streets and outside privies was making Daisy feel nauseous, but they had come this far and she had no intention of giving up now. After driving round for a while she found Balaclava Villa and discovered that it was a tenement building which had seen better days. Barefoot children, who ought to have been in school, loitered
in the doorways. Some of the older boys were smoking roll-ups, while the ragged girls minded the babies and toddlers.

Daisy's enquiries came to nothing. Ernie Flagg, she was told, rented two rooms on the top floor but he was never at home during the day. She might find him in any one of a number of public houses, but she would be lucky to discover him sober. No one had seen Ruby, although one heavily pregnant woman with a baby at her breast did volunteer the information that Nellie, Ruby's older sister, lived in Doris Street, Kennington, not far from the workhouse. The very mention of the dreaded place made the woman pale alarmingly and she slammed the door in Daisy's face.

Dispirited but determined not to give up, Daisy returned to the motorcar to find the bonnet crawling with small boys, and Beatrice making futile attempts to swat them off like wasps around a picnic table. One turn of the cranking handle was enough to scatter them and Daisy climbed back into her seat. ‘Doris Street,' she said tersely. ‘If we don't have any luck there I think we'll have to give up.'

Beatrice fanned herself with her hanky. ‘Oh, Lord. Another five minutes and I think they'd have taken the motor to pieces. Let's go home, Daisy.'

‘I'm not leaving London until I find someone who knows Ruby's whereabouts, or can give me some information about her.'

Doris Street was lined with two-up, two-down terraced cottages, and if the exteriors were anything to go by
they were all in a similar state of dereliction. Daisy pulled in at the kerb and asked the first person she saw if he knew Nellie Flagg. The old man spat in the gutter and walked on.

Beatrice leapt out of the car. ‘I'm sick of this. I'm hungry and I want to go home. I don't care if I never see London again.' She marched up to the nearest house and hammered on the doorknocker.

After a few seconds it opened a crack and a child of about six peered out at her. ‘Who are you?'

‘I'm looking for a lady called Nellie Flagg,' Beatrice said patiently. ‘Do you know her, little girl?'

‘I'm a boy. Clear off.' The door slammed in her face.

‘Don't you dare laugh,' Beatrice said, turning to Daisy with a scowl. ‘I'm not giving up. Follow me.' She marched to the next house and the next, receiving very little encouragement.

On her fifth attempt a young woman answered her knock, and she actually smiled. ‘She ain't Nellie Flagg no more. She's Nellie Toms and she lives next door. I think she's at home.'

On hearing this, Daisy got out of the car and hurried to her sister's side. ‘We need to speak to Mrs Toms urgently.'