Daisy’s Betrayal

‘Oh Sarah,’ Daisy rasped angrily. ‘Are you out of your mind? Do you know how serious this is? Didn’t you realise it wasn’t your property to lend in the first place? Do you understand what this could mean? For both of us?’

Daisy saw tears tremble on Sarah’s long lashes. The poor, innocent, beguiled child. She had never been as canny as Daisy, nor would she ever be.

‘I’m so sorry, our Daisy,’ she said sincerely. ‘I didn’t mean any harm. I just thought I would be a shilling or two better off when he brought it all back.’

‘And can he get it back? Can he get it back quick? Before Mrs Cookson finds out?’

‘Shall I run up to Parker’s and see if he’s there?’

‘I think you’d better … Right now. This minute. And don’t come back without it.’

Daisy waited on tenterhooks, concerned that Mrs Cookson might come seeking news and she would have to lie. She waited half an hour. Three quarters. An hour. Eventually, Sarah returned. She was carrying nothing and her eyes were red from crying.

‘He said he sold the pawnbroker’s ticket, our Daisy,’ she whined breathlessly. ‘I went to the shop and had a look. I asked them not to let go of the silver, as we would be back for it. But they said as it ain’t there any more. It’s already gone.’

‘Oh, my God.’ Daisy covered her face with her hands in horror. ‘You know what this means?’

‘Oh, Daisy, I’m so sorry,’ Sarah blubbered. ‘Have I got you into trouble as well?’

‘I sincerely hope not.’ Daisy sighed gravely. ‘I just wonder what’s the best way of handling it to save you getting into trouble … If I can get away with denying that I know who’s responsible I will. I’ll try and protect you. But Mrs Cookson isn’t stupid … Oh, I know you’re not the brightest of God’s children, our Sarah, but you’re no criminal. I’d better go and see Mrs Cookson.’

Daisy found Mrs Cookson just as she was about to take lunch.

‘Any news on the silverware, Daisy?’

‘Bad news, I’m afraid, ma’am. It was lent to somebody – on the strict understanding that it would be returned, of course. Sad to say, the person who borrowed it pawned it.’

‘Pawned, did you say?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Why would anyone want to pawn my silverware, Daisy?’

‘To raise money, ma’am. The idea was to gamble the money, then win enough to buy it back and return it safely here.’

‘And who was that person?’

‘I’m not certain, ma’am. One of the trades people, I believe.’

‘Daisy, you are being evasive. I want chapter and verse. If the police need to be involved, I want them here. Do you hear?’

Daisy let out a great, troubled sigh, and nodded.

‘But who from this household has been impertinent and stupid enough to lend my best silverware to one of the tradesmen?’

‘I cannot say, ma’am.’

‘Does that mean cannot, or will not?’

‘I cannot, ma’am.’

‘Very well. Then every servant in this house is under suspicion. What has happened here is tantamount to stealing and no employer will tolerate it. Lord knows, enough of this kind of thing goes on, but I thought we had earned sufficient respect from our staff to prevent such things happening in this house. I will not tolerate it and neither will Mr Cookson. We try, as employers, to be fair with everybody. We go out of our way to be fair.’

‘Indeed you do, ma’am. I have to agree. You are model employers.’

‘Does anybody below stairs have any genuine cause for complaint about how they are treated?’

‘Certainly not, ma’am.’

‘Then why are we treated so shamefully?’

‘I can’t imagine, ma’am,’ Daisy said resignedly. ‘I suspect whoever it was saw no harm in what they were doing if the silver was to be returned. Certainly, they wished you no harm.’

Mrs Cookson eyed Daisy suspiciously. ‘And I think you know more about this than you are admitting, Daisy.’

Daisy did not respond.

‘Of course, I cannot conceive that you had any hand in it.’

‘Indeed I did not, ma’am,’ she said indignantly.

‘All the same, I want the police here. I shall send Gerald with a note at once. It is the course of action my husband would take. It is the only sensible course I can take.’

‘I understand, ma’am.’

‘They will resolve this if you cannot, even if they have to arrest each and every one of the staff. Please send Gerald to see me at once.’

Daisy was hopelessly torn. She did not know whether to come out with the truth just to clear her own name. But she could not point the finger at poor Sarah and condemn her to the possibility of several years’ penal servitude when there was a chance she might still escape blame. So she said no more and went to look for Gerald.

Half an hour later, with lunch postponed, a police officer sporting a huge moustache arrived. He had everybody assembled in the kitchen and Daisy explained broadly what had happened, without naming Sarah.

‘So who was responsible for letting go this silverware?’ he asked pointedly.

Nobody answered, nobody moved.

‘Well, somebody must know.’

Everybody seemed preoccupied with looking at their shoes and not at the policeman. It was clear that nobody was going to snitch on their workmates.

‘Well I’m sure everybody wants their dinners,’ the policeman said ominously, his moustache twitching. ‘But there’ll be no dinner till I get an answer. And if I have to troop you all up to the police station, throw you in a cell and clap you in irons, I will …’

‘It was me,’ Sarah said meekly, and then began to wail.

Mrs Cookson looked at Daisy studiedly. She had read Daisy. She knew that Daisy had deliberately tried to shield her sister, knowing all the time she was responsible for this senseless error of judgement. Daisy’s heart sank as, with dawning clarity, the implications of her obstructive vagueness intensified.

She went over to Sarah and wrapped her in her arms. ‘There, there,’ she whispered. ‘You are no criminal. You didn’t understand what you were doing, did you? Just tell the police officer exactly what happened then everything will be all right.’

Eventually Sarah ceased her weeping and, when the others had been dismissed, she told the policeman all she knew, naming Roland, the grocer’s lad. She apologised profusely to Mrs Cookson and made a formal statement admitting her part in the affair.