Girl With Secrets
by Carol Rivers
Synopsis:
A coming of age war story and family saga full of romance, mystery and danger in Londonâs East End. From the Sunday Times and ebook bestselling author of theâŻLizzie FlowersâŻseries andâŻA Wartime ChristmasâŻcomes a grippingâŻNEWâŻcoming-of-age saga about love, loyalties and secrets.
IN THE TURMOIL OF WAR, CAN SHE KEEP HER FAMILY TOGETHER?'Surely one of the best saga writers of her time' â Rosie Clarke
1938, East London
.âŻNine year old Daisy Purbright is a country girl at heart and together with beloved brother Bobby, theyâve enjoyed the endless freedoms of rural England.
But when her father gambles the familyâs fortunes on a speculative investment in Londonâs docklands, Daisy and her family are swept up into theâŻintrigue, danger and excitement. Desperately the Purbrights attempt to settle to a new life in the East End, but the whisperings of war grow louder.
Then, one late afternoon in September 1940, Adolf Hitler conducts aâŻparalysing bombardmentâŻon London and warâŻtightens its grip.âŻLife changes dramatically and closely guarded secrets threaten the Purbrightsâ happiness.
Can Daisy and her family surviveâŻone of the most fateful events of the 20th century?
Perfect for fans of Nadine Dorries, Pam Howes, Rosie Clarke and Dilly Court.Purchase Links: UK -
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https://www.amazon.ca/gp/product/B08P52GZKR/Extract
Daisy blinked, putting aside these distracting thoughts as the peaceful moment resumed. If she was to be asked, which wasnât often, since it was usually Daisy who was doing the questioning, what she thought of her new home she would have said that gradually, she and her new home had become friends. At first they had both been unwilling to grasp a new future. An elderly headmistress, Miss Ayling, its previous occupant, had left an air of order and obedience about the place. Quite the opposite, Daisy reflected, to the dusty, creaky rooms of the old Wattcombe house, where everyone came and went without bothering to wipe their boots. But here - well, this was another kettle of fish altogether!
âLiving in London is the chance of a lifetime,âher father had encouraged on the day theyâd moved in. âWe have a new home to enjoy. The city to explore and the river, the greatest in the world, bringing trade from all nations, right to our doorstep!â
âBut all our savings have gone, Nicky. We have nothing behind us.â This from Mother who was not at all enthusiastic about the expense of leaving Wattcombe.
âIâm an engineer, Flo. I put things together. Make them work. The factory is where I should be.â
âYou did very well as Wattcombeâs estate manager. We enjoyed a comfortable living.â
âIs that how you saw us existing for the rest of our lives?â her father had argued. âTenants of the landed gentry, under the thumb until we grew old?â
âWhat is so wrong with that?â
âCome on Flo,â heâd urged, âyou know I was hopeless in the country. This damn gammy leg had me stuck behind a desk all day -â
âI know,â her mother had interrupted, âthat you are supremely talented and just aching to make the worldâs next unrivalled discovery with your electrical valves. But we have a growing family. Expenses to be met. Bills to be paid.â
Daisy had overheard this almost-quarrel as sheâd played in the garden, attempting - and failing - to find as many nooks and crannies to hide in as there had been in the country. The convenient wind had blown the almost-quarrel her way. Once sheâd got into the gist of things, she knew that life for her parents was not all they pretended it to be. Now the matter had come up in an almost-quarrel on the very first day of their new existence.
âEdâs my best pal as well as my brother,â Pops reasoned. âI trust him. He wouldnât invite me into the business if it wasnât financially feasible.â
âHe wouldnât ask you unless he needed our savings.â
Daisy had cramped inside at the bitter tone of her motherâs voice.
âThatâs not fair, Flo.â
âNot fair, perhaps, but true.â
After a short pause, âIâm sorry you still miss Wattcombe, my darling. I know your family is there, well, at least, Pat and your mother. But we go back to visit, donât we? Just as I promised before we moved to London.â
âIâm not complaining, Nicky.â
âJust consider the benefits our current situation has to offer,â Pops suggested. âPoplar Park Row is quiet and untroubled. We are not isolated as we were in Wattcombe. And we even have a plumbed in bathroom upstairs!â He laughed, but when Mother remained silent he added coaxingly, âBobby and Daisy are happy at their new school. Londonâs West End is only twenty minutes drive away and the factory a few minutes walk. Once Ed and I have patented our new valves weâll be in profit. All our money problems will be solved.â
âI hope so, Nicky,â Mother had conceded. âI really do hope so.â
Her parents had gazed at each other, like eager swimmers diving into a pool. Often their affection was so intimate, that Daisy could not bear to look.
Instead, she had hurried back to her bedroom and gazed out of the window across the river to the needle tops of the goose-necked cranes. Here, she was restored by the sight of her new world and the silhouette of Uncle Edâs factory puffing grey smoke from its chimneys like a slumbering dragon.
Her dream was that one day she would board a fine ship sailing down the river. Sail off to a country like Neverland. Oh, she knew quite well that Neverland was made-up. Wendy and Peter were not real. But what counted was how you felt when you set your imagination free. Without a doubt, there must be somewhere in the world where there was no talk of war or threat. A world of discovery and excitement where she would never get bored again.
Daisy found herself in the kitchen, where a black-leaded stove stood opposite the sink positioned directly below the window. An oblong table covered by a cream cloth stood in front of an oak sideboard. On its wooden shelves stood a variety of the headmistressâs fine china. On the far wall was the pantry where the faint perfumes of cinnamon and spices still clung to the walls. Beyond this, a laundry room complete with stout wash-boiler and a creaky old door that led outside to the garden privy. The room Daisy disliked most was the cellar, accessed only by a flight of stone steps. This gloomy underground space harboured not only a giant species of spider but all Miss Aylingâs unwanted clutter that Pops had not had the heart to throw out.
The living room, in contrast, was bright and cheerful with wide bay windows. Daisy stood there now, imagining the parties that Mother and Pops might host. Just like the exciting parties Aunt Minnie and Uncle Leo held in his Soho studio.
She twirled energetically, holding up the hem of her dressing gown and pirouetted around the couch. Taking a flying leap to the open fireplace, she righted a wobbly landing and missed the brass fender. Impressed by her ballet, she vaulted the wooden rack in which Pops kept his newspapers. Misjudging the distance, she landed heavily on all fours, momentarily winded. Fortunately, no part of her was injured.
As she jumped to her feet, she heard a noise.
Daisy cocked her head, listening carefully. Was there movement in the house? A footfall? Or perhaps someone breathing? Closer now. But where exactly?
âWhoâs there?â she whispered. Had she imagined the breathing? But the household was sleeping. Could it have come from the garden? It was said that Hitler would arrive in the dead of night. Heâd steal into peopleâs houses and take them prisoner. A girl at school claimed her father kept a vicious dog and hadnât fed it for at least three months. Another boy insisted his mother had baked poisoned cakes to be offered to an invading army.
âWh⊠whoâs there?âshe mumbled, dreading an answer.
A soft breathing sound came; an evil-sounding gurgle.
Daisy froze.
Was someone lurking at the front door? Could this be the invasion all of England feared?
Before she could take a breath, a hand planted itself between her shoulder blades. âHelp!â she cried, falling heavily on the couch.
Her brother giggled as he pinned her down. âDonât yell or weâre for it!â
Daisy gasped for breath. She was so relieved that the war hadnât arrived and Hitler hadnât sailed down the estuary overnight that she forgot to be really angry. âBobby, you daft haâpâorth!â she scolded. âYou frightened me!â
âGot you back for yesterday.â
Daisy pushed him away. âI didnât do anything,â she declared, knowing very well she had.
âYou split on me.â
âDidnât.â
âYou told Mother I socked Peter Brady in the eye.â
Daisy defiantly stuffed her hands in her pockets. âI told Mother the truth.â
âYou donât understand what it was all about.â
She felt as though somehow sheâd let Bobby down. âWhat do you mean?â
Bobby took his time answering. âIf you must know,â he said eventually, âPeter Brady calls Sammy Berger, âFritzâ.â
âIs âFritzâ bad?â
Bobby rolled his blue eyes. âCourse it is.â
âWhy?â
âSammyâs parents are German. They came to England to escape the Nazis. But Sammyâs mother died and now, because of the war, the government is suspicious of any German who lives here.â
Daisy considered her brother carefully. âPoor Sammy.â
âHeâs frightened theyâll take his father away.â
âWhat will happen to Sammy?â
Bobby shrugged. âThose men we saw trying to kick down Mr Bergerâs door the other day? Some of them were Blackshirts. Peter Brady said heâd join the Blackshirts if he was old enough. Thatâs what started the fight.â
Daisy shivered, recalling the afternoon when she and Bobby had passed Sammyâs house on the way home from school. The crowd outside Sammyâs house had been very angry. It had been very upsetting to watch and Bobby had hurried her on.
âIt was brave of you to stand up for Sammy,â she said.
Once again Bobby shrugged. âHe doesnât have many friends.â Bobby stood up and stretched. Daisy realized how much heâd grown since leaving Wattcombe. He stood a head and shoulders taller than her now; arms and legs too long for his old blue and white striped pyjamas. Mother had called Bobby a âslow growerâ. Yet now he was close to Mattâs height after a sudden spurt this year.
âSo tell me little sister, why were you snooping around so early?â
She pulled a face. âI wasnât snooping. I was thirsty.â
This time he gave a whistle. âWhat a whopper, Daisy Purbright! You were on the prowl, sniffing out other peopleâs business. Eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves, you know.â
Daisy gave him a hearty shove. âOh, buzz off you silly bee!â she exclaimed to hide her embarrassment.
But Bobby only laughed all the more.
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