who always seemed down on their luck, and Jake and George forever dodging the law.
‘And if I don’t really remember what happened …’ Daisy was shocked by the way her mind, usually so aware of the difference between wrong and right, was working.
Daisy had expected no family visits in the afternoon as the shop was always open – and busy – between four o’clock and closing time, and so she was very pleased to see Miss Partridge, complete with gloves and Sunday hat, walking smartly down the ward between the long rows of identical iron bedsteads.
She won’t be coming to see me, though, Daisy thought, and closed her eyes so that Miss Partridge might not feel obliged to speak to her.
‘Daisy, dear, if you’re tired I’ll drop this off …’
Daisy tried to sit up, a bad move as pain shot through her head. She did open her eyes, though.
‘Oh, you poor girl, I do hope there is no serious injury.’
‘No, they want to keep me until tomorrow, just to be sure, but apart from a lump and a headache, I’m fine.’
Miss Partridge pulled a chair up to the bedside. ‘I was in hospital once, a long time ago, Daisy dear, and my papa brought me a magnificent basket of fruit. I’m afraid there was no fresh fruit today.’
‘There’s a war on,’ they said together and laughed.
Daisy had been mulling over her problem all morning. Was Miss Partridge an ideal confidante?
‘I did bring a box of embroidered handkerchiefs, Daisy, dear, unused, of course, and so useful in a situation like this – and Mr Fischer sent you this.’ Miss Partridge opened her large, much-used leather handbag and took out a book with a beautiful Moroccan cover. ‘Rather fine, isn’t it. It’s a copy of Palgrave’s Golden Treasury. He says it was his first poetry book in English and so he hopes you will enjoy it. He has inscribed it to you.’
Daisy opened the book and saw thin spidery writing on the very fine inside page.
For Daisy, my very first English friend, in the hope that within its pages she will find some words to make her feel better.
Siegfried Fischer
Her stomach churning with happiness and excitement at the amazing kindness. Daisy said, ‘I don’t know how to thank you both.’
‘By enjoying our little gifts, my dear. Now I must be off.’
Daisy held out a hand to keep Miss Partridge near. ‘You haven’t asked what happened?’
‘Flora told me who Rose saw. You could have been seriously injured, Daisy. George and Jake Preston are becoming quite wild and, I’m sorry, my dear, but if something isn’t done about them, they’ll both end up in prison.’
Daisy said nothing. She had known the boys and their mother since their arrival in Dartford six years before. There was a rumour that, somewhere, there was a Mr Preston, but no one knew with any certainty. A second rumour had it that Mr Preston was in prison. All that the Petries knew for sure was the boys were badly cared for, and that the bigger fourteen-year-old George grew, the more impossible he was to control.
‘Jake will be as wild as George if something isn’t done, Daisy. He follows George like a puppy and does everything his brother tells him.’
‘No, Miss Partridge. He wouldn’t hit me when George told him to.’
To Daisy’s surprise, Miss Partridge laughed. ‘You’re more than a match for Jake.’
‘Not with the crowbar he was holding.’
Miss Partridge almost fell back into the chair. ‘That settles it. You must report them to the police; breaking and entering, fire raising, causing serious injury – or worse.’
Daisy moved her head as if to shake it and winced as pain shot through her skull. ‘No, please, Miss Partridge, those boys have nothing, and I could have handled George easily if he hadn’t taken me by surprise. What would the police do with him?’
‘Send him to a correctional institution, which will do him a power of good, my dear. You are much too soft-hearted.’
‘And if his father is in prison? What might the police say: like father like son? Please, Miss Partridge.’
‘It’s you they’re going to question, dear. I will say nothing to anyone. If you are absolutely sure …’
‘Yes.’ The kindness she was receiving strengthened Daisy in her purpose even more. The boy must be given a chance.
When the policeman spoke to her much later that afternoon, perfectly aware of what she was doing, Daisy Petrie did not lie but she seemed confused.
‘Medication,’ said the Irish nurse, ‘plus quite a knock on the head. Give her a few days.’
The might of the law withdrew.
The next day, when Daisy was allowed to return home, she found that her father did not agree with her. ‘Daisy, that lad almost set fire to the lockup. There is petrol in the van – it would have gone up like a firework, and what about the houses either side?’
‘He only wanted to burn the door down to get inside.’
‘“Only wanted”? Are you out of your mind?’
‘Dad, maybe he wanted to steal the van, maybe he thought you kept food in the lockup. They’re always looking for marked-down scraps, and they’re skinny as …’ she could think of nothing thin enough, ‘… too thin,’ she finished.
‘Daisy, love, you’re always ready for the halt, the lame and the lazy. What that lad did was criminal. He coulda killed you.’
‘Never. He took me by surprise is all. I should have handled it better, Dad, chased them away. That policeman wants to put him in an approved school. There was a lad in Sam’s class came out worse.’
Realising that they would never agree, Daisy was glad to go to her room for an afternoon’s rest.
She was surprised to be disturbed by her mother.
‘Daisy, a policeman was here. Did you tell him you couldn’t remember what happened?’
‘I told him that it was pitch-black out there and that I saw two shapes, possibly boy size.’
‘They’ll be watching them close.’
‘That’s good, Mum. I’ll warn George and he’ll stay out of trouble.’
Flora shook her head and returned to the shop.
When she could no longer hear footsteps on the stairs, Daisy carefully sat up. No explosion of pain, not even a dull ache. She manoeuvred herself out of bed.
I
