Daisy's Wars by Meg Henderson Page A

Daisy’s bedroom and all that was left for him to do was move himself in. On his wedding night he dallied longer in the sitting
room than seemed necessary after his new wife had gone upstairs to bed and his father-in-law to work, sitting on the couch that was now Daisy’s bed.
    ‘So we’re related now, Daisy,’ he said, watching her as he blew a stream of cigarette smoke out of pursed lips.
    Daisy kept her back to him, trying to find things to occupy her till he had gone, and didn’t reply.
    ‘I get the feeling you don’t approve any more than Michael does.’
    ‘I think Da feels the same as I do – that you shouldn’t have got my sister pregnant,’ Daisy said, damning herself for replying.
    ‘We were always going to get married,’ he replied casually, still lying back, still smoking and still watching her.
    ‘Well we’ll never know about that now, will we?’ Daisy said tartly, her back still turned to him. ‘She didn’t exactly have much choice, did she?’
    ‘She does what she’s told, your sister,’ he grinned, ‘though she was happy enough with how it was done.’
    She knew he was hinting at the child’s conception, a picture she had been fighting to keep out of her mind since the news first broke. She tried to change the subject.
    ‘Well, that’s the musical career gone, isn’t it? All the years we’ve each worked to help her, and it’s been for nothing.’
    ‘She can still sing in the clubs and pubs, it’s not all been wasted,’ he replied. ‘She’ll still be able to bring in a few bob.’
    ‘Yes,’ Daisy said calmly, ‘you taught her to parrot that well enough, but that’s not what it was for, you know that fine. Kay’s better than that; singing in pubs
isn’t enough.’
    ‘It’s enough for me.’
    ‘But is it enough for Kay?’ Daisy spat at him, turning round.
    ‘Oh, all that big-star talk, it was always hogwash,’ he said wearily. ‘The only people who believed that shite were you Sheridans and the Clancys, and everybody laughed at you
as well. She’s just a woman and women marry and have kids, that’s what they all want, what they’re all for.’
    ‘Well, that’s how it will be now, that’s for sure,’ Daisy whispered angrily. ‘Now will you bugger off upstairs to your wife? I have work in the morning, I want to
go to sleep.’
    He got up slowly, grinning at her, collected his cigarettes and matches and stood watching her as she moved towards the couch, her arms full of blankets, for protection more than anything, a
barrier between them. Then he caught her by the shoulders from behind and held her tightly, his body pressed against her, and she could feel his breath through her hair.
    ‘That hair drives me wild, Daisy,’ he whispered, ‘but then you know that.’ She tried to shrug him off but he held on. ‘That’s where we did it, y’know,
on that couch,’ he whispered against her ear. ‘It was one night when I brought her home and everyone was in bed. Just think of that as you’re lying there, Daisy. That’s
where we did it, can you see it now?’
    She dug her elbow into his stomach much harder than the time she had accidentally hit him before, throwing him off so firmly that he staggered, but he was laughing as he regained his balance
before moving towards the stairs.
    ‘I’d have preferred it if she’d put up a bit of resistance like that, Daisy; I like a challenge,’ he said, climbing the steps.
    Daisy looked at the couch and cringed with disgust, wrapping her arms around her body. She had no idea if he was telling the truth or just trying to upset her, and, much as she didn’t want
him to succeed, she was tempted to sleep on the floor.
    She sat in the darkness, fully clothed, for another hour, listening, afraid he might be there, watching her, but the only noise was the sound of Kathleen’s laboured breathing. Michael had
gone on his shift at the pit just like any other night, so she got up and crept into the bedroom to ask if her