Daisy's Secret Read Online Free PDF Page A

these bossy people might be.
    ‘Don’t cry, Trish. You know what to do, remember? Just like we practised at school. Stick tight to teddy and we’ll be all right.’
    ‘I feel sick.’ The piping voice at her elbow brought Daisy from her self-pitying reverie to find two small girls at her side. The face of one, little more than four or five, was wet with tears and a river of mucus from each nostril. The other, older by a year or so, was attempting to comfort her sister and mop her up.
    ‘Where’s Mam? I want Mam?’ wailed the smaller one.
    ‘She’s waving from the platform. See, there she is,’ and the older girl attempted to hoist her up so that she could see out of the carriage window to view some unidentified mother amongst the crush of women waving and bearing brave smiles as they sent their children off into the care of strangers.
    Daisy sprang into action. ‘Here, let me hold her for you,’ and she grabbed the child to hold her high at the half open carriage window where she waved frantically, her small face a heartrending mix of joy at sight of her mother, and pain at their parting. The other, older girl, hung out of the window long after the train had drawn out of the station, still waving when all sight of the crowd of sorrowful women had disappeared in a cloud of steam. ‘Come on, love. Let me pull it up with the strap, or you’ll get grit and soot in your eye.’
    The two little girls sat huddled in the corner of the seat opposite to Daisy, skinny arms wrapped tight about each other. They were dressed in navy blue gabardines far too long for them, yet with several inches of skirt trailing below the hem, presumably to leave ample room for growth. Each of their small, round heads was covered with a large beret, revealing only a few spruts of brown hair which stuck out around the edges. Daisy almost suggested they remove them, and then thought better of it. Who knew what lurked beneath? Their faces were drawn and anxious, the skin a familiar pallor that Daisy knew well, but then there wasn’t much sunshine to be had in the back streets of Manchester. They looked so thoroughly miserable that she attempted to jolly them into conversation by asking them their names.
    ‘I’m Megan,’ the older girl solemnly responded. ‘And this is Patricia, although we call her Trish for short.’
    ‘Mine’s Daisy,’ said Daisy. ‘And I’m happy to make your acquaintance.’ They both exchanged weak smiles. ‘Do you, by any chance, know where we’re going on this train?’
    Megan shook her head. ‘I expect the King does.’
    ‘Oh, I expect he does,’ Daisy agreed. She glanced again at Trish who was still suffering from hiccupping sobs and seemed far from reassured by this news. When the tears finally subsided she curled up into a tiny ball, cuddled against her sister, popped her thumb into her mouth and went to sleep. The only time she perked up was some hours later when Megan drew out a packet of sandwiches, one for each of them.
    Feeling a pang of hunger herself, Daisy reached down her case from the luggage rack and searched through it for a similar thoughtful gesture by her own mother. She found nothing. Embarrassed by this lack of attention, she quickly snapped it shut and returned it to the rack.
    ‘Didn’t you bring no food? We were told to fetch enough for one day.’
    ‘It’s all right. I’m not hungry.’
    Unconvinced by the lie, Megan held out her packet. ‘It’s only fish paste, but you’re welcome to have one. Mam allus makes plenty.’
    ‘Oh, ta very much.’ The fish paste sandwich went down a treat, followed by a second offered by Trish who even managed a shy smile, and thus their friendship was born.
    ‘Weren’t you given a list of what to bring? We were.’
    ‘I don’t know. It was all a bit sudden and - er - unexpected.’
    ‘Mam had a bit of a job finding some of the stuff. We had to have a toothbrush, one each, spare socks and plimsolls, and a warm jersey. We’ve never had owt