Daisy’s Betrayal. Nancy Carson

and Daisy was content that her husband found her so desirable. But she remained disappointed that always, afterwards, she yearned for some tenderness, some show of added affection, while Lawson always seemed oblivious to her needs, usually dozing off. When he touched her, when they laughed and teased and it was obvious they were going to make love, she was always excited, always pleased to give herself. Always there was the promise that some scandalously astounding pleasure was about to explode within her, though it had not yet. Oh, lovemaking was nice, to be sure. It made her toes curl … But surely there was more to it if what some of her friends had told her was true …

      And why did he expect her to wash herself out afterwards every time? Surely he realised she wanted his children?

       Chapter 8

      On their first full day back at home in Himley Road, Daisy got up, washed and dressed before Lawson. While she waited for Lawson to venture downstairs she explored the cellar and foraged for coal. She lugged a bucketful up the stone steps to light a fire in the scullery range. Using a draw-tin, the coals quickly ignited, so she would soon be able boil a kettle and brew a pot of tea. As she washed her hands she realised that having returned too late the previous evening to do anything about it, she was now faced with the disturbing reality that there was no food in the house to make breakfast, and no fresh milk to make tea. Pondering whether she should don her hat and coat and rush to the nearest corner shop, she stepped into the sitting room. At once she was drawn to the magnificent painting of the young girls draped over their Italian marble bench and could not help pausing to look at it for a few seconds, before turning to the bleak, uninspiring landscape outside her front window. As she peered out, she saw a milk float coming down the hill. She rushed to the front door, waited for it to approach, then hailed the milkman. He stopped, touched his cap and alighted from the cart.

      ‘Morning, ma’am,’ he greeted cordially. ‘Can I be of help?’

      ‘I take it you don’t deliver milk here?’ she said.

      ‘No, ma’am. Never bin axed.’

      ‘Could you? In future?’

      ‘Cerpaintly, ma’am. Am you the missus?’

      She smiled at this description of herself. ‘Yes, I’m the missus. And could we have a couple of pints this morning, do you think?’

      ‘No trouble. I generally carry extra milk. Yo’ never know who’ll be wanting extra.’

      ‘I’ll fetch a couple of jugs then. I won’t be a minute.’

      When she returned the milkman was making a new entry into his well-worn record book.

      ‘Maddox is the name, in’t it?’ he queried.

      ‘You know it already,’ she remarked with some surprise.

      ‘I’ve heard it mentioned.’

      ‘Well I’m Mrs Maddox. To tell the truth, I’m new over this side of town. We were only married a little while ago.’ She held out the enamelled jugs. ‘It’s our first day back from honeymoon.’

      He ladled milk into both of them. ‘Honeymoon, eh? Bin somewhere nice?’

      ‘London and Bath.’

      ‘London and Bath, eh? Very nice. Yower husband must be as wealthy as folk mek him out to be then, eh?’

      ‘Wealthy? I wouldn’t know. I’m not privy to his financial affairs.’

      ‘Well, ignorance is bliss, or so they say. Eh, Mrs Maddox?’

      ‘I daresay you’re right, Mr …’

      ‘Turner. At your service. Would yer like me to call tomorrer?’

      ‘Please. Every day, if you would.’

      ‘No trouble. I collect me money of a Saturday.’

      ‘I’ll have it ready … Tell me, Mr Turner, is there a butcher locally you could recommend. And a grocer?’

      ‘There’s Randall’s in Salop Street.’ He nodded in the direction he’d come from. ‘Top of the hill and turn left. They say his meat’s all right. Next to him there’s a grocer and greengrocer.’

      ‘Thank you, Mr Turner. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

      Mr Turner returned his ladle to his milk churn, touched his cap and stepped up onto the float again.

      Back inside, the fire had caught nicely. Daisy filled her kettle from the tap in the brewhouse outside and hung it on a gale hook over the fire. She looked around the freshly whitewashed scullery. It was all new to her and she had to find her way around. She located the teapot, the caddy, and spooned tea-leaves into the pot ready, then searched the cupboards and the cellar head for food. There was nothing she fancied; only stuff she would have to throw away. She made a note of the kitchen utensils, which were a legacy from Lawson’s father’s days, and decided she would need everything new.

      Lawson came down and stood in the door frame, smartly dressed.

      ‘I see you’ve lit a fire already.’

      ‘There’s not much coal in the cellar, Lawson. We’ll need more. We’ve nothing for breakfast either, save for some milk I just got from the milkman I saw coming down the road. I asked him to call every day. I think I’d better run up the road and get some bacon or something.’

      ‘There’s some ginger biscuits in a biscuit barrel in the sideboard,’ he said. ‘They’ll do for now. I’m not particularly fussed about breakfast, to tell the truth.’

      ‘I’ll need some money, Lawson,’ she said apologetically. ‘For meat and bread and provisions. I could do with finding a hardware shop as well. We don’t have any pots and pans to speak of. Nor knives and scissors and such like. Lord only knows how that cook you hired managed.’

      ‘You’re the housekeeper. How much do you want?’

      She shrugged. ‘Hard to say. But I do need to stock up.’

      He fished his wallet out of his pocket and rummaged through the coins. He began picking out gold sovereigns. ‘Will ten pounds do?’

      ‘Ten pounds? Good God, yes. Ten pounds should be plenty.’

      He handed her the coins.

      ‘Are you able to drive me there and back, Lawson?’ she asked. ‘I’m only thinking about carrying all that stuff.’

      ‘Not today, Daisy. I’ve got a busy day today. First I’ve got to fetch the horse from Jones’s stables. Then I’ve got business to attend to, people to see. I’ve been away more than a week, remember. You’ll have to manage as best you can.’

      ‘What time shall you leave?’

      ‘As soon as I’ve wet me whistle.’

      The kettle started boiling, spitting water into the fire and hissing impatiently. She took a cloth and lifted it from the gale hook and poured water into the teapot.

      ‘So when shall I see you back?’ she enquired pleasantly.

      ‘I’ll be back for tea, I daresay.’

      She stirred the pot, put the lid on and smiled at him. ‘And I’ll have a lovely hot dinner ready for you … Now, let me see if I can find that biscuit barrel …’

      When she returned, Lawson said, ‘I can see that you’re going to need a maid, Daisy. Remind me to see to it.’

      ‘Oh, I can see to it, Lawson. I’m used to it. I’ll put a notice in the window at the post office or something. A maid-of-all-work is what we need.’ The thought of having a maid enthralled her. A maid would underline her own uplifted social status. ‘A maid-of-all-work would be very useful … and wouldn’t cost a fortune either.’