11. STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

Phoebe is troubles at changes in her frie nd, Daisy

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

11. The Forgotten Photographs

It had been a couple of months since Phoebe had seen Daisy and she was beginning to wonder why her friend hadn’t popped into her home on the off-chance of seeing her like she often had in the past when, for example, she was shopping and felt like a friendly hot drink and a chat mid-morning.

And so, being in the area of Winkerby Road and being her own boss when it came to when she did what, she decided to call in and see her instead.

One thing that struck her as she walked up the short path to Daisy’s front door was the obvious way the grass needed cutting. Daisy had never spent an inordinate amount of time in the garden. But she had still managed to keep it tidy and the borders unmolested by weeds.

I wonder if she’s been ill? she asked herself, the poor thing did look possibly under the weather at that jumble sale...and that much might have been true looking back on the day. Hadn’t she aid something about the doctor trying to wean her off some pills? Maybe that was it. But by now, surely, she should be back to her old self.

She knocked the door and Daisy opened it and the first thing she noticed was how drawn the woman looked, and after only a month or two since she had last seen her.

“Hello,” said Daisy, “Do you want something? I don’t buy from the door, you know, I can’t afford to do that…”

Who does she think I am? We’re the best of friends. For goodness’ sake! Surely she recognises me!

“It’s me, Daisy! Phoebe! It’s not been that long since se saw each other, surely!”

“Phoebe… yes, of course, I don’t know what I was thinking. Are you coming in?”

“Only if I’m invited, Daisy.”

“Of course you are! Come on in and I’ll put the kettle on. We can have a nice cup of tea, just like the old times!”

“That would be nice,” she smiled as she made her way into Daisy’s house and shut the door behind her, but what does she mean about old times? They weren’t so long ago! She popped in to see me the day of the jumble sale, for goodness’ sake, and I’m sure we had cups of tea then!

“Isabel’s at the Grammar school now,” Daisy said, proudly, “I always knew she’d do well! She takes after her father, you know.”

“Fred?” As far as Phoebe was concerned, Fred Parfitt had been no great genius. She hadn’t even thought much of him, and when it came to thinking, then Daisy had always been streets ahead of him. At least, that’s what Phoebe had thought.

“I was with you when you bought that school uniform, love,” she said gently. Isabel seemed to be occupying a different world to that she herself was in and she felt really uncomfortable for her best friend to be talking to her as if they were strangers.

“Of course you were! I forget a lot these days and I’m sorry,” smiled Daisy, and it seemed to Phoebe that a light somehow ad switched on behind her eyes, and she was back to the way she had been. “Come on, love, I’ll put the kettle on and we can catch up on everything that’s happened since… since you know when…”

“Since the jumble sale where you bought the school clothes for Isabel?” reminded Phoebe.

“Yes. Since then. I mended the rip, you know, and Issy says you can barely see it.”

“She’ll be wearing it, then?”

“Of course, It’s a school day, and she’s proud as Punch to be at Saint Albans! And she brings homework with her from school to do here, you know. Sums and writing and stuff. She does it upstairs, in her room, sitting on a chair by her bed. She’s got everything she needs up there, and Brian isn’t allowed to disturb her when she’s doing her studies.”

“Sounds good, darling.”

“Oh, it is. She’s as pleased as Punch. Or should I say pleased as Judy?”

“Of course, love.”

“I’m not sleeping so well, Phoebs, and it sometimes makes things go out of my mind when I feel so weary. I can’t take too many pills because the doctor said I mustn’t so he doesn’t give me as many as he did.. But I know what I was going to tell you when I saw you, Phoebe! A few weeks ago, when I was sorting stuff out because things were getting cluttered and Issy said I should clear stuff out and throw rubbish away if I don’t need it, I came upon a film for my camera, one that had been used but not taken to be developed. I suppose I hadn’t had the money, and what with the war getting in the way… anyway, I took it to the chemist last week and collected the pictures. They’ve come out really well when you consider how long the film was lying in a dusty old drawer!”

“I’ll bet I’ve got an old film like that somewhere, too,” smiled Phoebe. “It was always a problem affording to have them developed because we took our photographs during a holiday and didn’t have much money left to pay for them being developed when we got home.”

“Here: I’ll show you!” Looking at Daisy, Phoebe thought she seemed to be back to her old self, the familiar Daisy of fond memories and smiles

Daisy went to a drawer and pulled it open and started ferreting around inside it. Then she looked up, frowning.

“What am I doing?” she asked, frowning.

“Your photographs, love. You were looking for your photographs,” reminded Phoebe. But why has she forgotten what she’s doiing when she only started doing it moments ago? she thought anxiously

Daisy smiled, and looked at her. “Of course I was! Silly of me to forget!” she said, then to herself, “now where might I have put them?”

She continued to poke around inside first one, then a second drawer in her sideboard, and then stopped suddenly and gently slammed one hand against her forehead.

“Of course!” she said, “I’m sorry, Phoebe, but I let Isobel take them to school to show her class what it was like before the war!”

“Oh,” sighed Phoebe, “then I’ll have to see them some other time. I’ll come one evening, eh? Make sure the girl leaves your photographs with you!”

“Of course. Yes, of course,” and then, a troubled expression on her face, she whispered “Phoebe tell me: what’s wrong with me?”

Phoebe stared at her, saw a kind of weariness daubed onto her features and knew her best friend was worried.

“Nothing, darling, nothing that a good night’s sleep won’t cure,” she said gently, and then, “Look, I must go now, so the tea will have to wait. But I’ll come one evening when I’ve got more time. Then you can tell me all about the photographs.”

© Peter Rogerson 06.03.23

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