Girl with Secrets: a coming of age war story and family saga full of romance, mystery and danger in Carol Rivers (readnow .txt) 📖

Nora’s voice was pure and sweet and drifted tunefully into the air as she sung her solo. The audience rose to their feet and applauded.

Daisy saw her family cheering. That was, everyone except for the one person who was missing. Aunt Betty.

CHAPTER 10

AFTER THE PERFORMANCE WAS OVER, Daisy was careful to keep with Sally.

‘Can’t see Peter anywhere,’ said Sally as they walked down the corridor.

‘He might have given up,’ Daisy replied hopefully, gently rubbing her sore elbow. ‘What with so many people here.’

‘Look, there’s my mum and dad,’ said Sally and pointed through the window. ’I can’t hang about as Dad’s got to get back to the docks to clock out.’ Sally’s mother wore a faded headscarf and Mr Watson wore his rough working clothes. ‘See you after Christmas. At least you won’t have to worry about Peter Brady for the next three weeks.’ Sally grinned and waved goodbye.

Daisy made her way to the playground where Mother stood in her new camel-haired coat with its dainty black fur collar and Pops in his best business suit. Uncle Ed wore a dark winter’s coat and was in conversation with Aunt Pat and Grandma. Aunt Minnie, as usual, looked like a film star, in a flawless cream suit. Uncle Leo on the other hand, looked a bit scruffy in a kind of crumpled linen jacket. Will wore his best shorts and striped woollen jumper, though he had already loosened his tie and shirt collar in an unsuccessful attempt to sit still.

‘Seen Peter?’ Bobby asked as Daisy joined the family group.

‘I was outside,’ Daisy confessed. ‘Peter crept up. He said he had a knife in his pocket.’

‘A knife!’ Bobby went pale.

‘I got away, thanks to Grandma.’

‘From now on, we stick together. Right?’

She nodded solemnly. Thank goodness the long Christmas holiday stretched ahead! But what would happen in the new term? Bobby couldn’t be with her every single moment.

Uncle Ed clapped Bobby on the shoulder. ‘Well done, old sport. We saw you working on the scenery. And Daisy, what a magnificent effort from the choir!’

‘Where’s Aunt Betty?’ she asked, remembering the vacant chair.

Uncle Ed looked uncertain. ’Your aunt had to visit the doctor.’

‘Is Aunt Betty ill?’

‘No, it’s just a cold,’ Uncle Ed assured her. ‘Wouldn’t want to spread it, would we?’

‘Such a nuisance for Betty,’ Mother agreed.

‘Absolutely,’ confirmed Pops.

‘Hateful things,’ said Aunt Minnie with a shiver.

‘Yes, yes,’ mused Uncle Leo, who had nothing else to add.

It was Grandma who spoke next, recalling all “the good old days”. How Wattcombe had served teas and home made cakes at the Easter fair. How Grandpa had driven his cart, filled with children, through the streets of the village.

This evoked conflicting comments.

‘I remember the cart. A two-seater, wasn’t it?’

‘No, an open trap, I believe.’

‘Those two Shires were the apple of his eye.’

‘Black as night, most impressive.’

‘They were chestnuts,’ Grandma corrected. ‘His horses were cobs, not Shires. And he drove a wagon. Covered in winter. Open in summer.’

‘Yes, yes, that was it!’

‘I remember now.’

Another silence which Daisy deemed to be even more awkward than the first.

‘You must all come to tea,’ Mother eventually declared. ‘I’m sure everyone is famished.’

‘I’d like to,’ said Uncle Ed. ‘But I'd better see how Betty is.’

‘Yes, of course,’ replied Mother.

‘We’d love to,’ sighed Aunt Minnie. ‘But Will has piano practice.’

‘Not until much later,’ protested Will. ‘Anyway it’s boring. I’d much rather go to Bobby and Daisy’s.’ Whereupon Uncle Leo took hold of Will’s shoulders and marched him away.

Then, quite without warning, she saw Peter Brady. He stood by the gate with a man whom Daisy had never seen before, but was a head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the vicinity. Was this the terrifying, arm-breaking Mr Brady? Another boy joined them. A menacing older double of Peter!

Daisy glanced at Bobby and he at her.

‘Can we go now?’ Bobby asked urgently.

Daisy made the same request, adding that she and Bobby hadn’t eaten for practically the whole afternoon. But it was not hunger that scraped at her stomach like a claw. It was the sight of Peter Brady and his frightful family.

CHAPTER 11

AUNT PAT’S knitted stocking had grown as long as Pinocchio’s nose. An unmissable pillar box red, the toe and heel were in stark contrast, an emerald green. Daisy had been enlisted to wind the heavy skeins of wool whilst taking her turn at Monopoly and Mahjong. All games had now been done to death though currently, Bobby was failing to survive a particularly fierce round of cards with Matt.

‘What do you think?’ asked Aunt Pat as she looped off the last stitch. ‘Ready in time for our visitor tomorrow.’

‘Aunt Pat, there is no such thing as Father Christmas,’ laughed Bobby.

‘How do you know?’ Aunt Pat asked calmly.

Daisy watched Matt throw down his cards. ‘I love you dearly Aunt Pat, but only a fool would believe that a fully-grown man with a long white beard could wriggle his way down a million chimneys.’

‘Then I must be a fool,’ replied Aunt Pat with a sigh.

‘Rubbish,’ objected Matt and got up to pop a kiss on her cheek. ‘You are a very wise aunt and we adore you. But now, since Amelia is spending Christmas Day with her family, I must say goodbye.’

‘Ah, young love,’ said Aunt Pat wistfully. ‘Another kind of magic.’

After Matt had gone, Aunt Pat slipped off her spectacles. ’What would happen if your pillowcase wasn't filled, Bobby? Would you stop believing in Christmas?’

‘No, but I would be disappointed,’ replied Bobby.

‘Would you care if the milkman delivered your presents?’

‘Not really,’ Daisy said thoughtfully.

‘What if the baker brought them?’

‘It wouldn’t be much fun,’ admitted Bobby, collapsing beside Daisy in front of the fire.

‘Precisely,’ said Aunt Pat. ‘Christmas is a very special season. A family season. And we would all do well to remember that.’

Just then, Mother and Pops arrived back from Poplar. Daisy jumped to her feet. ‘Did you see Aunt Betty and Uncle Ed?’

‘Yes,’ said Mother unwinding her