Part 17 (1/2)

'I do say,' I reply with a certain pride, but feeling all the same something of an impostor.

'Oh, Daisy, I had no idea! I knew it had happened Mr Constantine getting married, I mean, and we all sent our good wishes. But I don't get to St Aidan's much these days and I seem to miss out on all the gossip parish news, I should say. I knew he were marrying an Oxford lady, but my friend Agnes said his fiancee was a Margaret Ba.s.sett, although I suppose she must have meant Baxter and I never thought of it being you, as you were always Daisy to me. But come in, come in! You're even more welcome, if it's possible.'

And so I go in, and although the house is tiny, with only one room for all to live in, with a scullery beyond, everything is spick and span as I would expect it to be with Nettie in charge. The fire is lit and there are clothes drying in front of it, neatly folded, and there is a tea table laid with a clean cloth, and a bunch of wild flowers in a jar. In a cradle by the fire is a baby.

'She's called Maud,' says Benjy, pus.h.i.+ng his way past us. 'h.e.l.lo, Maudie!' he cries, waving a piece of bread at her. The baby chuckles.

'She's a fine baby,' I say, looking down at the infant. 'A really beautiful baby.' I feel a sob catch in my throat, and Nettie looks at me sharply.

'Don't worry. I expect you'll have one of your own soon,' she says. 'Now, Benjy, get out of my way so I can put more water in the kettle.'

'There's cakes,' says little Daisy. 'Ma, there's cakes!'

'Mr Constantine is always generous,' says Nettie. 'Now don't you dare touch nothing until I've cleaned your hands. That's right, isn't it, Daisy? I beg your pardon, Mrs Constantine, I should say.'

'You should say nothing of the sort, Nettie unless I call you Mrs Bunch in return. Anyway, it's lovely to be called Daisy again. n.o.body calls me that now.'

'I used to look after this lady before I got married,' she says to the children, wiping their hands with a damp cloth while keeping her eyes on me. 'And look how fine she's got although I wish she wasn't quite so thin!' Her eyes take in my gaunt face, my bony fingers. 'Tell Mr Constantine he'll have to feed you up.'

I think of the unfinished meals, the waste on the breakfast table. 'I'll do my best.' I watch her settle the children around the table. 'But why didn't you ever come to see me again? Why didn't you ever write? I thought about you all the time.' As I speak, I realize how the injustice of it still burns in me.

'I thought about you too and my little Benjy (not you, my love, another Benjy). But when you loses your place there's a lot of things to do to get another one, and every time I thought about you I started to get weepy, so I put my mind elsewhere and just hoped and prayed you was being well looked after by the new nursemaid.'

'Oh, she was utterly dreadful.'

'Oh, don't tell me that, Daisy!' she cries, her face a picture of horror. 'That was my one consolation!'

'Well,' I say, modifying my words. 'The fact is that she didn't like me.'

'How could anyone not like you?'

I laugh. 'Easily enough, I think. Mama said I was secretive, and you know how horrid my sisters could be. You were the only one who was always on my side.'

We smile at each other, and the years drop away.

After Nettie has made the tea and cut each small cake into two and given each child a portion, she and I take the wooden armchairs next to the fire, the drying clothes having been deftly whisked away.

'So when did you come back to Oxfords.h.i.+re?' I ask, as I sip my tea. 'I thought you were in London.'

'London? Why ever did you think that, Daisy? I've never been to London in my life.'

'But you said if you were looking after children in London, you wouldn't have time to come and see me.'

'Oh, I expect when I said it I just wanted to get as far away as possible after all that terrible business on the river, I mean. No, I went home to Wallingford. I hadn't seen much of my ma and I wanted time to find a new position. I went to work for another minister, after that a Baptist in Bicester.'

'A Baptist! Papa would have been annoyed.'

'Well, if your pa had kept me on, there'd have been no need for me to go there. I even offered to work for nothing, but he wouldn't have it. I don't blame him, really, but I did miss you so much! Mr Protheroe was quite different, very quiet, with a cripple for a wife and just one little girl of seven, very moody. It was a bit tedious to tell you the truth, but beggars can't be choosers. I was only there a couple of years, and then I met Mr Bunch at St Giles's Fair. We got courting, and then we married and I moved here with him. He used to be a servant in one of the colleges, what they call a scout. But it's not a job for married men. And anyway Mr Bunch weren't fit enough after he fell down the stairs. They're stone stairs in the colleges you know, Daisy, ever so worn and slippery '

'Oh, yes,' I say. 'I've seen them. I used to go to tea every week with Mr Jameson.'

'Well then, you can imagine what it would do to your back to fall down a whole flight of them. Mr Bunch was off for weeks, and when he did go back he couldn't carry the coal scuttles or make the beds or carry the wine up from the cellars and that's the main part of the job. He'd been at the college since he was a boy, but they still give him notice.'

'Oh, Nettie, how unfair!'

'Well, I have to admit they do what they can for him, casual work and such, and we're grateful for it. There's not much work round here except for the colleges and he has to do all sorts to make ends meet sharpening tools door-to-door and suchlike. But there's a big dinner tonight and so the Bursar has called him in to help wait at the High Table. That'll be a few extra s.h.i.+llings.'

'Oh, Nettie, how do you manage?' I say, thinking how easily I can spend a few s.h.i.+llings. 'But what about Billy and Lizzie? Don't you get paid for looking after them?'

'Not really. Their mother used to live in half a house around the corner, but she was put out on the street for not paying the rent. She come and asked me to mind the children while she looked for work, and I couldn't say no, not with those two poor things looking up at me. She promised to pay me regular as soon as she got herself some employment. That was eighteen months ago, and I've never heard from her since. She was a bit flighty, to tell you the truth, and I think the children are better off without her. The things they've told me you wouldn't credit it! Some children are dragged up any old how. We should thank our lucky stars that we were both brought up right.'

I am sorely tempted to tell her. I take a breath, but I can't find the words, and the room is full of children. I glance at Billy and Lizzie, fighting surrept.i.tiously over the last piece of cake. 'So, you're keeping those two for nothing, Nettie?'

'No, Daisy, I'm keeping them for love.' She looks across at them with the old fond look I remember so well. And I wish again that I could have kept her close through all my growing up. I'm sure she would have protected me from harm. I long to nuzzle into her shoulder, climb on her lap, have her tell me that everything will be all right.

But now she wants me to talk about Mr Jameson. She's saying she'd heard he was quite famous now, and that he'd written books for children, which everyone had read, including Queen Victoria, although he still went on living in those same old college rooms day after day.

'You seem to know quite a lot about him, Nettie.'

'I gets the news from Charley Mr Bunch I mean.'

'And how does he know?'

'Oh, didn't I say? He used to work in Mr Jameson's college. He even used to help out Mr Jameson's scout '

'Benson, you mean?'

'That rings a bell. Anyway, that's where he is today helping get ready for the dinner.'

'So,' I say teasingly, 'all these years you've known about Daisy's Daydream, but never once come to see the real Daisy?'

'I did come once. A long time ago.' She looks down at her hands.

'To our house?'

She nods. 'You and Benjy was so much in my mind at first that I couldn't settle to anything. I'd just started with Mr Protheroe and as soon as I had half a day off, I took the train back to Oxford and walked up to Westwood Gardens.'

'Did Mama let you in?'

'I didn't go to the front door, silly goose. I went round the back and saw Cook and Hannah. They said Benjy was in the drawing room with your mama and that you had gone out with Mr Jameson. They said you were always out with Mr Jameson and that you talked of nothing else but what you had done and what you would do next. ”Is she happy, then?” I said. And Hannah said, ”Like a dog with two tails.” So I was satisfied, and went home. I thought it better not to write, to bring up old memories.'

'Oh, Nettie, how I wish I'd known! I thought you didn't care about me!'

'Well, now you know I did. It's all water under the bridge now. You've grown up and got married and are as happy as you deserve.'

I flush. 'I'm not sure I am deserving, I mean. You are more deserving, Nettie, and yet you have no money and your husband isn't well. Where's the fairness in that?'

'Oh my, you haven't changed. Always wanting to know why things are the way they are and not how they should be!'

'But it's true, isn't it?'