Free Blood on the Wood by Gillian Linscott

cuffs of a cream flannel blouse her wrists were as thin as a child’s. The ankles were probably just as thin, but they were hidden in clumsy laced boots that looked like hand-me-downs, much too large for her. In spite of that, there was a kind of dignity about the way she stood, eyes down but body upright, arms clasped to her chest over her violin.
    Daniel said, ‘I want you all to look after Daisy.’
    He’d come to stand beside her. One of our party said, ‘Of course we will.’
    That broke the spell at least. A bench was brought out for them to sit on, two mugs of tea produced, all with the unnecessary bustle of people wanting something to do to hide their embarrassment. Daisy sat on the bench with the violin beside her and drank, clasping both pale hands round the mug the way old men do. Daniel accepted the tea but remained standing.
    â€˜Daisy slept under the hedge last night. I rigged up a tarpaulin for her. I slept outside it to keep watch on her.’
    It was absurd and perhaps touching in its way – but absurd mostly. Here he was in an open field, carefully preserving the middle-class conventions and Daisy’s reputation. Or perhaps in his own eyes, a knight from the Middle Ages with drawn sword laid in the bed between him and his beloved. Still, it seemed to go down well. Our party relaxed a little. Yes, of course they’d look after Daisy. She might enjoy the class on the history of the trade union movement for new members, then in the evening more music and dancing. At the mention of music Daisy looked up at last and gave a fleeting smile. Her teeth were gappy and uncared for. While all this was going on, I’d kept carefully to the back of the group, avoiding Daniel’s eye. Considering what I knew, my presence must be an embarrassment to him. Now he looked my way.
    â€˜Miss Bray, do you think we might have a word?’
    With several pairs of eyes on us, we went out of the gate and on to the farm track.
    *   *   *
    â€˜Miss Bray, I hope … I mean I’d take it as a favour if you wouldn’t…’ He was as nervous as a nice boy caught apple scrumping.
    â€˜Tell Miss Smith about Miss Foster, you mean?’
    He nodded.
    â€˜They’re both going to have to know sooner or later, aren’t they? Or are you contemplating bigamy?’
    He winced, but I’d meant it to hurt. ‘I’ve got to go up to the house and explain to Felicia. Uncle Oily and Adam too, come to that.’
    â€˜I’d advise starting with Felicia.’
    â€˜Yes. I know it must look from the outside as if I’m behaving pretty badly to her.’
    â€˜That will be the general impression, yes.’
    He ran a hand through his curly hair and looked miserable. If he expected comfort from me he’d come to the wrong shop.
    â€˜The thing is,’ he said, ‘if I can get Felicia on her own and explain to her, I think she’d understand. She’s a nice reasonable girl in a lot of ways.’
    â€˜Explain to her what exactly? That you got carried away by dancing and bottled beer and announced your engagement to a girl who looks hardly old enough to be away from home? She’ll have to be more than nice and reasonable. She’ll have to be downright saintly.’
    â€˜What I want her to understand is that Daisy needs me a lot more than she does. Felicia can marry practically anybody she likes, any time she wants to. She’s got friends and she’ll inherit quite a lot of money of her own. Daisy’s got nothing. I’m her only hope.’
    â€˜For getting married? I don’t suppose any woman’s that desperate, particularly one as young as Daisy. She can’t be much more than sixteen.’
    â€˜Seventeen. And I don’t mean I’m her only hope of getting married. I mean only hope of … well, of surviving.’
    I stared at him. ‘Surviving what?’
    He turned red and looked at