filled up the water dish and Megan carefully collected three fresh, warm eggs.
‘Well, we won’t starve, that’s for sure. Though we may end up clucking a bit,’ Daisy joked.
There was little else to see. The garden was wild and neglected with nothing but an old crab apple tree, practically bare of fruit and even that was sour, judging by the one Daisy risked trying, not realising they weren’t meant for eating straight off the tree. Beyond the drystone wall at the bottom lay a wide expanse of ploughed field that looked as if it was growing something, though what it might be, Daisy couldn’t guess, knowing nothing of such matters. It started to rain so, mindful of Megan’s cough, she hurried the children back inside and boiled the kettle for yet more tea, though sadly without milk.
‘Mam used to make soda bread sometimes,’ Megan said, looking at the big bag of flour. ‘Perhaps we should try,’ but since none of them had the first idea how to begin, that idea quickly foundered.
The three girls patiently waited throughout all of that day and the next, for Miss Pratt to call in and check on them. They somehow weren’t surprised when she didn’t. Daisy did her best to keep the children amused by telling them stories, or teaching them little songs and nursery rhymes. There were no books, nor even pencil and paper in the kitchen so it was hard to devise games beyond I-Spy, and they quickly tired of that one.
The house had become strangely silent and they preferred being out in the sunshine. Playing in the garden helped to fill the empty hours and they made sure the hens were well taken care of. They lived on eggs, mashed potato and fried onions. But the children were badly missing their mother and Daisy was growing increasingly uneasy. This wasn’t the way to look after children, vacees or not. She felt overwhelmed by the responsibility, quite out of her depth. If she hadn’t been considered capable of looking after one tiny baby, how could she possibly care for two little girls?
The third night they were disturbed by the dogs howling. The sound was so alarming, they all ended up cuddled together in one bed.
‘Was that a boggart d’you think, Daisy?’
‘Or a ghost?’
‘No, it’s just the dogs, disturbed by the wind I expect. Go to sleep.’ Easier said than done. It was a fine night, with not a breath of wind and Daisy lay wide-eyed throughout, her ears pricked for the slightest sound.
By eleven o’clock the next morning with still no sign of their host, and with not even any eggs left for breakfast, Daisy felt they’d been patient long enough. She instructed the two little girls to stay put in the kitchen, while she went to search further afield.
‘No, don’t go Daisy,’ Trish begged, wide-eyed with fear.
Megan added her own plea. ‘What if the boggarts come again, Daisy?’
‘Don’t be silly, they weren’t boggarts, only the dogs and they’re quiet now.’ That was another odd thing. They hadn’t seen hide nor hair of a dog in days. ‘I must find Miss Pratt and if I can’t find her, then I shall look for the lady in the green hat, or some other official. There must be somebody responsible for us vacees. I mean to find out who.’
But she had reckoned without Trish who refused, absolutely, to let her go.
Mouth down-turned into the familiar curve, cheeks awash with tears, it would have taken a harder heart than Daisy’s to prise the child’s fingers from their fierce grip upon her skirt and simply walk away.
‘All right then we’ll all go. But wrap up well.’
The navy gabardines and berets were put back on, scarves tied into place, and the inseparable trio set off together. ‘Just like the three Musketeers, Daisy joked. ‘We’ll soon find Miss Pratt and get this all sorted out.’
They walked the length of the village street knocking at every door, but an hour later, were no closer to finding her. Many of the neighbours expressed their concern, urging Daisy to call
‘Well, we won’t starve, that’s for sure. Though we may end up clucking a bit,’ Daisy joked.
There was little else to see. The garden was wild and neglected with nothing but an old crab apple tree, practically bare of fruit and even that was sour, judging by the one Daisy risked trying, not realising they weren’t meant for eating straight off the tree. Beyond the drystone wall at the bottom lay a wide expanse of ploughed field that looked as if it was growing something, though what it might be, Daisy couldn’t guess, knowing nothing of such matters. It started to rain so, mindful of Megan’s cough, she hurried the children back inside and boiled the kettle for yet more tea, though sadly without milk.
‘Mam used to make soda bread sometimes,’ Megan said, looking at the big bag of flour. ‘Perhaps we should try,’ but since none of them had the first idea how to begin, that idea quickly foundered.
The three girls patiently waited throughout all of that day and the next, for Miss Pratt to call in and check on them. They somehow weren’t surprised when she didn’t. Daisy did her best to keep the children amused by telling them stories, or teaching them little songs and nursery rhymes. There were no books, nor even pencil and paper in the kitchen so it was hard to devise games beyond I-Spy, and they quickly tired of that one.
The house had become strangely silent and they preferred being out in the sunshine. Playing in the garden helped to fill the empty hours and they made sure the hens were well taken care of. They lived on eggs, mashed potato and fried onions. But the children were badly missing their mother and Daisy was growing increasingly uneasy. This wasn’t the way to look after children, vacees or not. She felt overwhelmed by the responsibility, quite out of her depth. If she hadn’t been considered capable of looking after one tiny baby, how could she possibly care for two little girls?
The third night they were disturbed by the dogs howling. The sound was so alarming, they all ended up cuddled together in one bed.
‘Was that a boggart d’you think, Daisy?’
‘Or a ghost?’
‘No, it’s just the dogs, disturbed by the wind I expect. Go to sleep.’ Easier said than done. It was a fine night, with not a breath of wind and Daisy lay wide-eyed throughout, her ears pricked for the slightest sound.
By eleven o’clock the next morning with still no sign of their host, and with not even any eggs left for breakfast, Daisy felt they’d been patient long enough. She instructed the two little girls to stay put in the kitchen, while she went to search further afield.
‘No, don’t go Daisy,’ Trish begged, wide-eyed with fear.
Megan added her own plea. ‘What if the boggarts come again, Daisy?’
‘Don’t be silly, they weren’t boggarts, only the dogs and they’re quiet now.’ That was another odd thing. They hadn’t seen hide nor hair of a dog in days. ‘I must find Miss Pratt and if I can’t find her, then I shall look for the lady in the green hat, or some other official. There must be somebody responsible for us vacees. I mean to find out who.’
But she had reckoned without Trish who refused, absolutely, to let her go.
Mouth down-turned into the familiar curve, cheeks awash with tears, it would have taken a harder heart than Daisy’s to prise the child’s fingers from their fierce grip upon her skirt and simply walk away.
‘All right then we’ll all go. But wrap up well.’
The navy gabardines and berets were put back on, scarves tied into place, and the inseparable trio set off together. ‘Just like the three Musketeers, Daisy joked. ‘We’ll soon find Miss Pratt and get this all sorted out.’
They walked the length of the village street knocking at every door, but an hour later, were no closer to finding her. Many of the neighbours expressed their concern, urging Daisy to call
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