Chapter Four
Daisy
Despite being a big lover of the great outdoors Daisy wasn’t sorry to be inside the shop at long last. It might only be the beginning of December but the early morning temperatures left you in no doubt that it was time to hunker down for a long winter. And today the wind was howling, the window panes in the shop rattled and a draft didn’t mind pushing its way beneath the door.
In the summer months Daisy savoured the walk and the fresh air before work far more when she could enjoy the sunshine. This morning even Busker had seemed to be dragging his feet as though the damp and the cold were too much for him. But still Daisy loved being outside and she’d got some great photographs. Her dad had always told her there was no such thing as the wrong weather, only the wrongclothes. She was the only one of the three sisters who liked to go camping, always had and still did. Even now she’d happily take herself away for a couple of nights’ break, pitching up her little sky blue and navy tent that had been her companion for years seeing her through sun, rain, snow and high winds. By day she’d take her camera and explore capturing breathtaking scenery, landscapes she could’vestared at for hours, wildlife including deer, squirrels and even spiders, their impressive webs glinting in the sunshine or sparkling in the frost to show off their intricacies. She’d finish her days cooking on her mini stove beside a small campfire, weather permitting, and then she’d cocoon herself in her sleeping bag and sit at the entrance to her tent looking up at the stars, nothing betweenher and them, just freedom.
Daisy finished the mug of tea her mum had left her. Loretta as usual had opened the shop first thing while Daisy walked Busker, then as Daisy arrived Loretta made the tea either for both of them or if she had something to get on with – errands to run – she’d leave Daisy a mug and get on. It had been the same arrangement for years. Daisy picked up her camera and scrolledthrough the photographs that she’d taken this morning. She paused, remembering the last time she and her dad had gone camping, Loretta and her sisters gladly staying behind with none of them fans of the outdoor pastime. For three wonderful days Daisy and her dad had camped in the Brecon Beacons, they’d hiked, they’d cooked in the tiny tin pans over the little hotplate, and she’d carried hercamera everywhere. It was the last time Daisy remembered being truly happy around her father, until she found out he wasn’t the man she thought he was and no matter how much she tried to get past it, she never had such close times with him again. She went away with friends instead after that. He said he understood, but she could see the hurt in his face. And back then, she’d almost been glad he didn’tget to have everything perfect in his life either.
Daisy’s eyes had filled with tears as they often did when she thought of her dad but she batted them away when Mrs Ledbetter, local woman to Butterbury, emerged from where she’d been perusing the fabric selection.
‘What have you got there?’ Mrs Ledbetter was looking over Daisy’s shoulder at the shots on the camera she was holding.
‘I was outwith Busker this morning.’
‘Poor Busker, it’s freezing.’ She took in the picture of the family dog, eyes half-closed against the wind, his fur blowing.
‘Any day is a beautiful day for photography.’ Daisy smiled, glad she wasn’t looking at anything incriminating. Mrs Ledbetter was friendly enough but was well-known to enjoy a bit of local gossip. And Daisy didn’t much want her business broadcastaround Butterbury. Not that there was anything to tell. She did the same thing day in, day out. Mrs Ledbetter probably led a wilder existence than she did.
Mrs Ledbetter tried to look closer at the photographs. Daisy had captured the rugged beauty of the deserted landscape that morning, at first shrouded in a low-lying mist, then the dark, unpredictable clouds brooding up above before they’dmoved on too.
‘My eyesight isn’t good enough,’ Mrs Ledbetter concluded. ‘That or the screen is too tiny. If you ever get them printed then I’ll take another look. Now, can we talk curtains?’
‘I would love nothing more.’
Mrs Ledbetter at least had a sense of humour and raised an amused eyebrow at Daisy’s sarcasm.
‘Are you making these curtains yourself?’ Daisy asked.
‘Loretta is helping meand we’re doing tie-backs. Your mother is wonderful, you know, so generous with her time and her efforts. And you’ve inherited her talents and her nature.’
Daisy wasn’t so sure about that. She got by, she knew the business, she could manage the shop alone if she had to, because she’d made it her mission to know all the ins and outs, to keep the promise she’d made to herself that her mother wouldnever have to worry, that for once her life would stay on track and she’d get exactly what she wanted. And what Loretta had always wanted was for the Butterbury Sewing Box to stay in the family.
Mrs Ledbetter pulled out a piece of paper with the measurements of her window and her curtain rail and handed it to Daisy. Daisy calculated the amount of material she’d need, scribbling down the details,and checked she’d worked it out right before she took the large roll of fabric over to the counter. Mrs Ledbetter admired the design as it was unrolled along the beautifully polished, smooth, dark-wooden surface from one end almost to where the till sat. A tape measure was fixed to the longest edge of the counter to make the job easier and when Daisy was sure of her accuracy, she picked up thescissors and carefully cut the fabric. She recommended the best colours of cotton to use alongside the material, found the most appropriate, and rung them up with the order.
‘I’m looking forward to getting started.’ Mrs Ledbetter beamed. ‘Thank you, Daisy. Between Miriam’s haberdashery at the opposite end of Butterbury and this place, you have everyone’s needs covered. And with Miriam away dealingwith a family emergency, thank goodness you’re still open or I would’ve had to wait to get started.’
‘Glad to be of service.’
Daisy couldn’t remember the last time her mother had shut the shop like Miriam had done – although, to be fair, Miriam’s absence was more to do with her extended family needing her than simply taking a break. Daisy took short holidays whenever she could but Loretta seemedresistant to leave the place. Daisy wished her mum would realise that she could cope without her for a few days. Or perhaps it was Grandad that kept her mum so unwilling to leave the village. Loretta was close to her dad and now he was in the lodge she was up there daily, they both were. And as they both knew, life could change in a heartbeat, days with one another were to be cherished beforesomething stole them away.
‘You know I always thought Fern would take over this business,’ Mrs Ledbetter observed, missing the way Daisy bristled at the mention of her eldest sister, the assumption that being the eldest meant you were the one who had the best ability. ‘Then I thought, perhaps Ginny, because she always loved to sew. I’d see her in here, cutting up material, making her own clothes.’
Daisy plucked a brown paper bag from beneath the counter and put Mrs Ledbetter’s reels of cotton inside. She folded up the fabric carefully, inserting tissue paper between the folds, and put it into another bag. She didn’t really want to talk about life, sisters and this place, given she so obviously hadn’t been on Mrs Ledbetter’s radar to be able to manage the shop, and so she changed the subject.‘How’s the cleaning going up at Butterbury Lodge? Grandad says you’re still working hard.’
Mrs Ledbetter did up her coat again ready to brave the cold. ‘It takes a lot of work, especially in the winter, all the mud that gets trodden in and the leaves and debris.’ She rolled her eyes dramatically.
‘Then it’s a good job they’ve got you.’ Daisy smiled.
When Mrs Ledbetter went on her way Daisyslotted the roll of material back into its allotted space and ensured the other rolls were tidy, and with no other customers in the shop she thought she’d better get on with unboxing the latest delivery. She brought the box from out at the back into the front of the shop and opened it up to find a whole range of fat quarters for quilting. There was a bundle themed in red with polka dots, humbug stripesand poppies, and another cream fabric with traditionally wrapped sweets, which made Daisy smile. While she didn’t have a huge passion for the family business in its entirety in quite the way her mother did, quilting was something else. Quilts had always been special in their family, the associated meaning and togetherness conjuring up memories easily swept aside. She still had her childhoodquilt at the end of her bed and come the winter months, she’d pull it over herself, feel safe, loved, like nothing had ever changed.
The post arrived and Daisy shuffled through it. Dull, brown envelopes mostly, a flyer about the GP surgery and how they were now offering online appointments too for convenience – a smart move in Daisy’s opinion. And then a postcard from Ginny. Most people wouldflip it straight over and read the words but Daisy was instantly drawn to the picture instead, the way the photograph on the front captured the higgledy-piggledy buildings of Bruges bordering dreamy canals, which were like something out of a fairy tale.
Loretta arrived back at the shop and almost immediately after she came through the door she spotted what Daisy was holding in her hands. ‘FromGinny?’
‘Of course from Ginny. Who else sends postcards to the shop?’
‘Well what does it say?’
