The Best of Daughters (37 page)

‘Miss Beatrice, I am not in the habit of telling lies,' Arley said angrily. ‘I demand an apology.'

Daisy stepped forward, taking the ledger from Beatrice, and closing it with a snap she replaced it on her father's desk. ‘Mr Meadows, it seems that my father's business is losing money. I'm sure you know about the shocking events that almost bankrupted him in London, and now the same thing seems to be happening once again.'

‘It's not fair to blame me, Miss Lennox.' His expression of aggrieved innocence was almost believable, and Daisy found herself at a disadvantage. She was beginning to wonder if Beatrice had imagined the whole thing, but she noticed that his fingers twitched nervously at his sides and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. Her sympathy evaporated and she faced him with a new determination to set matters straight. ‘We can't prove anything, Mr Meadows. It's your word against ours and if Father's accountant hasn't spotted any discrepancies in the books then I must assume that either you are quite innocent or that you are much cleverer than you look.'

His neck appeared to lengthen above his stiff white collar, like a tortoise sticking its head out of its shell. ‘I am deeply insulted, Miss Lennox.'

‘If you are truly innocent, I apologise,' Daisy said calmly. ‘But if my father's business continues to run at a loss, when to all intents and purposes it should be making a profit, I promise you there will be a full inquiry and an official audit of the books. Do I make myself clear?'

Meadows stiffened, his face flushing a deep red. ‘Perfectly clear, but I can assure you . . .'

Daisy held up her hand. ‘I don't want to hear any more. My sister and I are leaving and I suggest that you tidy up this mess.'

‘I hope this is the last time we have this sort of conversation, Mr Meadows,' Beatrice said as she opened the door. ‘It will be the police who call on you should there be cause for concern in the future.' She stepped into the outer office. ‘Let's go, Daisy.'

‘I'm coming.' Daisy hesitated in the doorway, glaring at Meadows. ‘My father is a good man. He deserves loyalty from his staff.'

‘I'm deeply distressed that you should think so little of me, Miss Lennox,' he said, wringing his hands. ‘I am the most trustworthy of employees.'

She smiled. ‘Then you have nothing to worry about, have you?' She followed Beatrice out into the dusty street. ‘That was very unpleasant. I'd almost rather be back at the Front than have to do anything like that again.'

‘Do you think he was telling the truth?' Beatrice asked anxiously. ‘I don't know much about it but those figures did look as though they'd been altered to show a loss.'

‘We'll probably never know, but he's had fair warning. If things don't improve you must tell Father and allow him to handle the matter.'

‘Meadows might continue to swindle Father but do it more carefully in the future.'

Daisy tucked her hand in the crook of Beatrice's arm. ‘I think that Meadows has had a bad fright, and he's
not stupid enough to make the same mistake again. If he loses his job he'll have difficulty finding another one, and if Lord Kitchener brings in conscription Arley Meadows might find himself looking in vain for butterflies on Flanders fields. Let's go home, Bea. I want to enjoy my last couple of days of freedom.'

Two days later, on Daisy's last evening before returning to France, Victor arrived home with a huge bunch of roses for his wife. Gwendoline gazed at him open-mouthed as he presented her with the bouquet. ‘What's this for, Victor? It's not my birthday or our wedding anniversary.'

He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. ‘It's a small token of my appreciation, Gwendoline. You've had to put up with so much over the past year or two. I don't know of many women who would have borne things with so little complaint.'

Gwendoline had the grace to blush and Daisy exchanged wry glances with Beatrice. Considering the fact that Mother had done nothing but complain since they moved to Rainbow's End, Daisy thought it very generous of him to give her such an accolade.

Beatrice flung her arms around her father's neck. ‘You're looking very chipper, Father. Has something good happened?'

Daisy sent her a warning look. ‘Weren't you going to give Ruby a hand in the kitchen?'

Ignoring her, Beatrice gave him a hug and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Do tell, Daddy darling. Why the big smile?'

‘You're strangling me,' Victor protested, but he was
obviously delighted by this outward demonstration of affection. ‘Actually I have some good news at last. Meadows has been through the books and found several errors in accounting. By his reckoning we are actually in the black.'

Gwendoline frowned. ‘What does that mean, Victor? Tell us in layman's terms.'

‘My dear, we're solvent for the first time since we moved to rural Essex. I must confess that I've been lax, especially since we lost Teddy. I'm afraid I let matters slide.' He gulped and swallowed, visibly upset as he uttered his dead son's name, but he rallied quickly, taking a deep breath. ‘For a while I simply didn't care and I thought I might have to give up the business, but now I can see a way forward. If Meadows had not been so conscientious an employee we might have been struggling for years, or at worst been faced yet again with bankruptcy.'

‘I think this calls for a toast.' Daisy could see that Beatrice was beaming with satisfaction and might at any moment give the game away, and she gave her a warning frown. Moving swiftly to the wine table she poured sherry into three glasses and was about to fill the fourth when her father held up his hand.

‘No, thank you, Daisy; I need a proper drink. Beatrice, my dear, run to the kitchen and fetch the cooking brandy. Ask Ruby to join us too.'

‘What on earth for, Victor?' Gwendoline demanded suspiciously. ‘Ruby's place is in the kitchen.'

He shook his head. ‘That young woman looks after us well. She should hear the good news.'

Gwendoline choked on her sherry. ‘Victor, do you have to be so egalitarian? Ruby is a servant. We must draw the line somewhere.'

‘The old order is changing, my dear,' he said solemnly. ‘Things will never be quite the same again when this dreadful war ends, and I for one am glad. Ruby has been through a hard time and we let her down in her hour of need. What's more we'll probably have to depend upon her to look after us in our old age.'

Beatrice had been about to leave the room but she hesitated, frowning. ‘Don't say that, Father. You've still got Daisy and me.'

‘I know, my dear. But you'll be married before long and then it will be Daisy's turn.'

She stared at him in disbelief. ‘You don't object to Jimmy and me getting married?'

‘I bow to the inevitable,' he said, smiling. ‘Now where's my brandy?'

‘You're the best father in the whole word,' Beatrice cried delightedly. ‘I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail.' She ran from the room, leaving the door to swing on its hinges.

‘Have you gone mad?' Gwendoline said angrily. ‘Are you really going to allow her to marry a farmer?'

‘They're very well-to-do farmers,' Daisy said gently. ‘And Jimmy's a good man.'

Victor nodded his head. ‘I agree, Daisy. And then it will be your turn.'

‘Unless Rupert gets himself killed in this dreadful war,' Gwendoline said darkly. She glanced at Daisy
beneath her lashes. ‘I'm sorry, but you know how many young men have already gone to their deaths. It's a great pity that you didn't get a wedding ring on your finger while you had the chance.'

‘Gwendoline,' Victor said severely. ‘That's enough of defeatist talk.' He turned to Daisy with a tender smile. ‘You're a brave young woman, my dear. I doubt if I've ever told you this, but I'm very proud of you, and I hope and pray that Rupert will be spared and that you will marry and have a long and happy life together.'

Daisy grasped his hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. ‘Thank you, Father. I do love you both, even if it's not the done thing to say so in this family.'

Victor returned the pressure on her fingers and his eyes were moist. ‘Perhaps that's the one good thing to come out of the horrors of war. Maybe we appreciate each other a little more and are not afraid to show our true feelings.'

‘You're getting maudlin, Victor,' Gwendoline said crossly. ‘Sit down and stop embarrassing me.'

Daisy was to remember her mother's acerbic response as she endured a rough Channel crossing in a troopship, but it brought a smile to her lips. The family were accustomed to Gwendoline's adverse reaction to any outward display of affection or emotion. Mother, Daisy thought, had been born with a stiff upper lip, and perhaps she herself had inherited a small part of that stoicism. Maybe that had been the real reason why Rupert had been unable to share his deepest thoughts
and fears with her. Perhaps if she had shown more sympathy for his obvious distress he might have behaved in a different
manner. The bleak expression in his eyes haunted her and she was finding it increasingly difficult to forgive herself for allowing him to suffer his private demons alone. It was in a sombre mood that she arrived in Calais and made her way to Lamarck through streets pockmarked with bomb sites, and buildings reduced to skeletons of charred brick and stone.

It was midday and quiet in the old convent. The motorised vehicles were all out, leaving the courtyard empty. The cobblestones gleamed with patches of oil and puddles of soapy water were evaporating in the feeble rays of the September sun. Daisy checked in with her superior and was greeted warmly but wearily and almost immediately put to work. Very soon her brief sojourn in England was a faded sepia tint of a memory and she was pitched once again into the shocking reality of war. The daily hardships, the constant battle to save lives and the terrible suffering of the sick and wounded were eased only by the companionship and mutual support that the women gave unstintingly to each other.

Once again, Daisy and Clarice worked as a team, driving the old Ford ambulance. Each morning their first task was to clean and disinfect the inside of their vehicle. Their eyes stung from the fumes of strong disinfectant and the smell of carbolic clung to their hair and clothes. It was a relief afterwards to be out in the fresh air while completing the routine maintenance
checks on the engine before setting off for their first pick-up that day. Daisy sometimes joked that she could always get a job in a garage when the war was over, and she tried to ignore her broken fingernails and oil-ingrained, calloused hands.

The days shortened as winter approached and at Christmas there was a festive atmosphere at Lamarck. Food parcels from home were shared around and the Belgian doctors brought wine to add to the jollity of the occasion. Thus far in the war the FANYs had been working only with the Belgians, but after the disastrous offensive at Aubers Ridge earlier in the year the British authorities had had second thoughts about making use of their skills. Grace Ashley-Smith, who was now Mrs Ronald McDougall, having married an officer in the King's Own, had worked tirelessly to persuade the authorities to recognise the FANY and allow them to work with the British army. There remained many in the establishment who disapproved of women in a men's world, but in December, after a long, hard battle with the powers that be, Grace announced that at last their work was being recognised. They would be allowed to provide transport for sick and wounded British soldiers, and in January 1916 Unit Three was formed.

Daisy and Clarice were amongst the first to be sent to the new camp where tents had been pitched on the sand dunes overlooking the Channel. They endured the winter living in the draughty tents, which had been intended for the Indian army and were not well suited to the chilly northern climate. They slept in
army-issue sleeping bags on flimsy camp beds, but some of the more fortunate women commandeered bathing machines and converted these into sleeping quarters. All through the long winter more permanent accommodation was being built, and when it was completed they had the luxury of a cook house and a bath house. Living in a camp also meant sharing the day to day duties of gathering and chopping wood to feed the furnace, and cooking. Then there was the general maintenance of the site, which included keeping the latrines as sanitary as possible, which was not the most popular task, but everyone pitched in without too much grumbling.

When winter melted into spring Clarice discovered a liking for gardening. She dug a small plot in which, as the seasons progressed, she grew vegetables to supplement their diet. In their lighter moments they decided that when the war finally ended Daisy was to become a mechanic and maintain Lord Pendleton's motor cars, and Clarice would become head gardener at Pendleton Park. She declared herself eager and willing to take orders from the future Lady Pendleton, but Daisy said nothing to this. She had not told anyone except Bea that Rupert had ended their engagement. It was a secret she hugged to herself, buried deep with the feelings she had once had for Bowman. She wrote letters to Rupert, receiving the occasional brief note in reply, telling her very little other than that he was still alive.

As to Bowman, she had no idea what had happened to him. He might be dead for all she knew, or clapped
in irons in a military prison, awaiting his sentence for desertion. She tried not to think about things that might have been. Life was much simpler now. It was merely a question of getting through each day as it came, and she knew that worse was to come.

It started in July when the casualties came pouring in from the battlefields of the Somme, and life became even more dangerous with Zeppelin raids on Calais. The sounds of gunfire and exploding shells reverberated in the clear summer skies with shrapnel falling like deadly rain. There was little respite for anyone and Daisy worked shifts covering the night hours as well as daytime. Sometimes she went for several days with little or no sleep as the injured men arrived in their thousands.