The Best of Daughters (28 page)

‘Do you now?' The woman eyed her curiously as she reached over and tapped on the door. ‘She's got four little ‘uns, so give her a minute, ducks.' She leaned against the jamb, regarding Beatrice and Daisy with unconcealed interest. ‘That's a nice motor. We don't see many of them round here.' She straightened up as her neighbour's front door opened and a woman of a
similar age appeared on the threshold. ‘You got visitors, Nellie. Proper posh they are too.'

Daisy held out her hand. ‘How do you do, Mrs Toms? You don't know us but we're friends of Ruby's.'

Nellie recoiled slightly. ‘I don't recall that she had no friends of your sort, miss.'

Daisy felt the blood rise to her cheeks. ‘Well, what I meant to say was that she worked for my family in Warwick Square, and when we moved to the country she came with us.'

‘Lucky bitch,' the neighbour murmured. ‘Ain't you going to ask the ladies in, Nellie? Where's your manners?'

‘Shut up, Gladys. It's got nothing to do with you.' Nellie folded her arms across her chest. ‘What do you want? I ain't got all day.' As if to confirm her statement a baby started crying and another child began wailing miserably. Nellie turned her head, leaning into the house. ‘Be quiet or I'll give you something to cry for.' The wailing ceased but the baby cried even louder.

‘We're just looking for Ruby,' Daisy said in desperation. ‘She left without giving us a forwarding address. I have some money for her.'

A calculating look brightened Nellie's face for a second and then was gone, leaving her sulky and suspicious. ‘I dunno where she is. We had a falling out years ago. We don't talk, and you won't get nothing out of me dad, neither. He won't have her name mentioned in our house. So I'll bid you good day. I got things to do.' She retreated into the house, closing the door but
leaving a waft of something very disagreeable in the air.

Gladys shrugged her thin shoulders. ‘So be told. She don't know nothing and neither do I. That Ruby was always trouble. She thought she was a cut above the rest of us, the snooty bitch.' She went inside and slammed the door.

‘Nice neighbourhood,' Beatrice said, glancing about nervously. ‘Let's go before things turn really nasty.'

They hurried back to the motor but it refused to start on the first few cranks of the handle. Daisy was beginning to sweat copiously. The sky had darkened and the air had turned a sulphurous yellow. She could hear thunder rumbling round in the distance and at any moment the heavens might open. In desperation she cranked the handle again and this time the engine fired on all cylinders. Regardless of dignity she almost threw herself into the driver's seat and gunned the engine so that the Model T roared off down the street, backfiring and causing people to rush out of their houses to find out what was causing the hullabaloo. When they were far enough away from Doris Street, Daisy stopped the car and with Beatrice's help she put the hood up to protect them from the worst of the rain that had started to fall in sheets.

Despite Beatrice's constant complaints that she was dying of starvation, Daisy drove on until they were at a safe distance from London before stopping at a respectable-looking tea shop on the outskirts of Brentwood, where Beatrice demolished ham sandwiches, scones and cakes as if she had not eaten for a
month. Daisy sipped a cup of tea and nibbled at a slice of fruitcake, but she had no real appetite. Their journey had been wasted and she had no more idea where to find Ruby than she had at the start of the day. She was tired and dispirited but she was not going to give up. ‘I'm going to put advertisements in the newspapers,' she said suddenly, causing Beatrice to jump and spill some of her tea on the tablecloth.

‘What on earth are you talking about, Daisy?'

‘I'm going to write an advertisement asking Ruby to contact me, even if it's just to let me know that she's all right. I won't rest until I find her, Bea.'

Licking her fingers one by one, Beatrice gave her a calculating look. ‘There's more to this story than you've told me, isn't there?'

Assuming what she hoped was an innocent expression, Daisy shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don't know what you're talking about.'

‘Ruby was just a servant when all is said and done.'

‘She's a friend too, and as far as we know she's on her own. It's impossible for a woman in her condition to get work.'

‘She's Bowman's problem, not yours.' Beatrice leaned across the table. ‘It's him, isn't it, Daisy? Bowman is the reason you disappeared off to London for months on end.' She shook her head, chuckling. ‘Who would have believed that my big sister, the pure-minded suffragist, has fallen into the deadly trap?'

Daisy lifted her hand to signal to the waitress. ‘May I have the bill, please?'

‘Yes, miss. Right away.' The girl took a pad from her
pocket and began to write laboriously with the tip of her tongue held between her teeth.

Beatrice dabbed her lips with a napkin. ‘You won't get away with it that easily, Daisy. We've got three hours or more stuck in that rattletrap. I'll get the truth out of you before we arrive back at Rainbow's End.'

‘There's nothing to tell,' Daisy said, recovering gallantly. She loved her sister but she did not trust her to keep such a dire secret to herself. She placed some coins on the bill proffered on a plate by the young waitress, adding a generous tip, and she rose from her seat. ‘Come along, Bea. The storm's passed over and I want to get home before dark.'

Bowman had not been there when she delivered the car to his workshop after her fruitless trip to London, and she had parked it at the kerb and walked home. He had not made any attempt to see her, and although she was relieved she was angry that he had not bothered to enquire about Ruby. He truly was a heartless wretch. She held grimly on to that thought and spent the next couple of days writing advertisements asking Ruby or anyone who knew her current whereabouts to contact her. She posted them off to both the national and local newspapers, although with little hope of receiving a reply.

With the wedding almost upon them she had little time to herself, although her mother and Lady Pendleton were confident that they had thought of everything. Even so, there were last minute crises and causes for panic when two of the smallest bridesmaids
went down with chickenpox, and the Scottish salmon which had been sent down by train arrived in a less than fresh state. Another order was placed, but if it did not arrive on time the guests would be eating chicken instead of galantine of salmon.

On a more personal level, Victor's morning suit had not yet arrived from Moss Bros in Covent Garden and he was considering whether or not to take a day off work and travel up to London to collect it, and Gwendoline was not happy with the hat she had ordered from the milliner in Colchester. When she was not panicking about trivial matters she was bemoaning the fact that she could no longer afford to shop in Bond Street. Daisy kept as low a profile as possible, but she rushed to get the post every day in the hope that there might be something from Ruby, and each time she was disappointed.

Despite the desperate situation in Europe and the ever present threat of war, Rupert and Teddy had been granted two days' leave and were due to arrive home on Friday. Gwendoline was in a high state of excitement at the thought of seeing her son, and had hired a girl from the village to clean the house from top to bottom, paying special attention to Teddy's room. The bed was aired and made up with freshly laundered sheets and pillowcases. A small nosegay of clove-scented pinks from the garden had been lovingly placed on the dressing table by his mother, and one of the under-cooks from Pendleton Park had been delegated to Rainbow's End to cater for the family up to and for a short time after the wedding.

Daisy herself was becoming increasingly nervous. She had not seen Rupert since Christmas and she was beginning to realise how difficult life must be for an army wife, with the inevitable long separations and the reunions which might at best be blissful or at worst slightly awkward.

It was late on Thursday evening when the telegram boy arrived at Rainbow's End. The maid had gone home and it was Daisy who answered the door. She took the envelope with trembling fingers.

‘Any answer, miss?' The boy, whom she recognised as Percy Bourne, the miller's son, shuffled his feet.

She held the lamp high enough to read the brief message.
Leave cancelled. Will telephone. All my love, Rupert.

‘Any answer, miss?' Percy's freckled face looked pale and pixie-like in the shadows.

She shook her head. ‘No. Thank you, Percy.' She took a few pennies from her pocket and thrust them into his outstretched hand. ‘Goodnight.'

He saluted and ran down the path to vault onto his bicycle.

‘Who is it, dear?'

She turned to see her father standing behind her and she flung her arms around his neck, allowing the telegram to flutter to the ground.

Next day Daisy left the house soon after breakfast to walk the half-mile or so to Pendleton Park. She found Lady Pendleton in the morning room. She was still wearing her flimsy silk peignoir and the swirling,
semi-translucent material flowed around her as she paced the floor, giving her the appearance of an agitated butterfly. She came to a halt as Daisy entered the room and rushed over to hug her, enveloping her in a cloud of L'Heure Bleue. ‘Daisy, my dear girl. This is terrible news. Henry has been on the telephone to the War Office since last evening when we received the telegram.'

‘I don't understand,' Daisy said dully. ‘Why has Rupert's leave been cancelled?'

‘I can't say for certain, my dear. I believe it's the wretched political situation, but one can never be sure of these things. Everything is shrouded in secrecy. Even my husband is finding it difficult to get an answer.'

‘Rupert said he would telephone. May I wait here until he does?'

Lady Pendleton released her and sank down on a chair at the table, which was set for breakfast. ‘Of course, Daisy. Ring for the maid and I'll have fresh coffee and toast brought to us. I couldn't manage anything more substantial, unless you, of course . . .' She broke off, leaving the question suspended in thin air.

‘I couldn't eat a thing,' Daisy murmured, pressing the bell push. ‘But coffee would be lovely.' She went to sit at the table, folding her hands on her lap. ‘Does this mean that the wedding is off, ma'am?'

Jane Pendleton's eyes filled with tears of sympathy as she patted Daisy's hand. ‘I don't know, my dear. I really have no idea whether Henry can pull enough strings to grant Rupert and your brother a few hours'
compassionate leave. It depends on the situation in Europe, but I'm afraid that it's getting very serious.'

‘You don't think we're going to war, do you?'

Lady Pendleton bowed her head. ‘That's exactly what I think, but we will have to wait and see.'

It was the longest morning of Daisy's life. She drank copious cups of coffee but she had no appetite for food. Lady Pendleton retired to her bedroom to get dressed but when she came downstairs an hour later, looking pale but elegant in a dove-grey silk morning gown, there had been no change. Lord Pendleton remained in his study, appearing occasionally to tell them that he was unable to get any sense out of the War Office, and had demanded to speak to the minister for war in person. The waiting seemed endless.

Gwendoline arrived at the house shortly before lunch time but was in such a state of nerves that Lady Pendleton sent her home again in the Rolls with Worley in attendance, having given her strict instructions to settle Mrs Lennox in bed and remain with her until she was feeling able to cope. Victor was sent for and also Beatrice, who as usual had gone to the Gurneys' farm.

Daisy paced the floor in the crimson and gold saloon. Suddenly everything seemed totally unreal. She felt nothing other than a state of confusion. She did not know whether she was sorry or even slightly relieved that Rupert's leave had been cancelled at the last moment. It was almost impossible to believe that tomorrow was supposed to have been her wedding day. She was left very much to her own devices as
Lady Pendleton was fully occupied dealing with the wedding guests who were already at the house, including the distant relations whom Rupert so disliked, and those who were still arriving.

Daisy was shielded from this but in truth she would have appreciated having something to do. Time hung heavy on her hands, and when everyone took their places in the dining room at lunch time she had to suffer sympathetic looks and whispers, although quite obviously Lady Pendleton had forbidden anyone to raise the subject that was uppermost in their minds.

In the afternoon everyone drifted off to walk in the grounds or to play cards in the library. Some retired to the billiard room while others elected to take a nap so that they were fresh for the evening. Despite the slightly subdued atmosphere it was impossible to pretend that they had not gathered together for a wedding celebration. The only problem was that the bridegroom was missing and, unless Lord Pendleton managed to exert his considerable influence, likely to remain so. Sitting at the window and gazing onto the parkland, Daisy wondered vaguely what they would do with all the food that was still being prepared in the kitchens, and the crates of champagne that were cooling in the cellars. She had not seen the floral decorations in the church, but she could imagine the mixed fragrances of roses, lilies, freesias and orange blossom that scented the cool interior of the ancient building, and hopefully smothered the smell of must from aged hymnals and the hint of dry rot and damp that welled up from the crypt.

She jumped as someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she rose quickly when she realised that it was Lord Pendleton himself. ‘Sir?'

‘Rupert is on the blower in my study, Daisy. He wants a word.'