Page 4 of The Only Way Is Up

Daisy collapsed into a seat at the table and picked up the glass of water, trying to stop her hands from shaking as she took a sip. She looked at Clara, doing her best to look like she was holding it together. ‘Right. Shall we talk about your two-pronged strategy?’

Clara gave a barking laugh and tapped her nails on the desk. ‘Dar–ling, it’s just sprouted several new prongs.’

An hour later, they had the makings of a plan. Daisy’s biggest problem was the Vultures, who were determined to keep the story alive. They clearly weren’t going away any time soon, particularly in view of Christian’s announcement.

‘What about getting out of London for a while?’ suggested Hostage Three. ‘Like, somewhere secluded where the press can’t get to you. Behind gates, or security, or whatever.’ The other two looked up from their phones, waiting to see Daisy’s reaction before they arranged their sunken faces into expressions of awe or disdain.

‘What about a health retreat?’ said Clara. ‘You could go abroad.’

‘No,’ said Katie firmly. ‘The press could spin that as some kind of rehab.’

‘Hmm,’ said Clara, nodding thoughtfully. ‘OK, bad idea.’ She glared at Hostage Three, who tried to disappear into her chair, tucking away her limbs like a folding bicycle.

‘No, it’s not,’ said Katie. ‘But Daisy needs to stay in the UK. Somewhere with peace and privacy, but where she can be seen out in public. That way we can manage the story and squash any rumours the minute they surface.’

Daisy sat forward in her chair, suddenly inspired. ‘Willow Cottage.’

‘Where’s Willow Cottage?’ asked Hostage Two.

‘It’s in the Cotswolds. Simon and I bought it years ago. He kept it in the divorce and now goes there with his husband.’

Hostage Two’s eyes narrowed as her brain processed this unconventional family tree, then she nodded approvingly. ‘Cool.’

Daisy hadn’t been to Willow Cottage in thirteen or fourteen years, and even before that she’d only visited a dozen or so times, mostly early on in her relationship with Simon when things had been great between them. She recalled how secluded it was, part of a private school estate with a gated driveway and too many footpaths in and out for the Vultures to cover. It was in a village in the arse end of nowhere but only ten miles or so from Ruby’s school, so she could come home at weekends if she wanted to. It would give Daisy a chance to do some repair work on their mother–daughter relationship and beg for forgiveness about the engagement. And she could deal with Christian from a distance, without any sharp objects to hand. Daisy could come back to London in a few weeks after Ruby’s half-term, by which time somebody else’s genitalia would be keeping the nation entertained and The Incident and the engagement would all be ancient news.

Simon sounded relieved when Daisy called him, but he knew her well enough not to ask too many questions. He confirmed that the cottage was free for as long as Daisy needed it, and in return she promised to call him later for a proper chat. Already she was itching to get out of town and start putting all this mess behind her.

Daisy was taken home by Karim, who had also driven her back from the O2 after she’d been given the all-clear by paramedics and crawled into his car so she could die of shame at home. She liked that he was discreet and reliable, and in over a decade he had never asked her for insider gossip or free tickets to Spotlight, although she offered the latter to him every year. He drove her himself whenever he could, or sent one of his brothers if he wasn’t available; it was an arrangement that worked for everyone, and in Daisy’s tight-knit circle of trust, Karim was a valued member of her team.

Today Karim’s job was to act as bodyguard as well as driver. He helped Daisy out of the car, navigating her through the pack of Vultures waiting outside her Highgate Village townhouse, a protective arm around her as they bombarded her with questions. Was Christian’s proposal a publicity stunt, Daisy? Have you been sacked from Spotlight, Daisy? What does your mum think of what happened at the NTAs, Daisy?

She thanked Karim and firmly closed the door, then made a cup of tea and tried Christian again. This time he answered.

‘Hey,’ he said quietly. Daisy could hear the trepidation in his voice and felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She was all out of fight for one day.

‘What were you thinking?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice calm and measured when inside she was screaming. ‘Why would you announce something like that without talking to me first?’

‘I was being spontaneous,’ said Christian. ‘I wanted to be supportive. You know, after . . .’

‘But Ruby didn’t know,’ hissed Daisy through gritted teeth. ‘She found out from people at school that her mum’s getting married. She’s incredibly upset.’

‘Oh,’ said Christian. ‘Is she upset that you didn’t tell her, or that we’re getting married?’

Both, thought Daisy, but she wasn’t getting into that now. ‘What does it matter?’ she said. ‘You had no right to go public without talking to me first.’ She raked her hand through her hair in frustration. ‘In my world, there’s a way of . . .’ She stopped short, feeling stupid. There WAS a way of doing these kind of things – a ring, proper photos, a statement, an Instagram announcement, maybe a deal with OK! if you were that way inclined. But it was patronising to suggest that Christian wasn’t part of her world.

‘I didn’t think about that, I’m sorry,’ said Christian, but she could already hear the boredom in his voice. ‘I was just excited, and it felt like the right moment.’

‘I’m getting out of town for a while,’ said Daisy. ‘The press are everywhere, so I’m going to stay in a friend’s place in the Cotswolds.’ She didn’t mention that it had once been a romantic bolthole for her and her ex-husband.

‘Right, I totally get that,’ said Christian. ‘But I need to stay in London right now. The Wimbledon contract and . . . stuff, you know.’ Daisy could hear him stifling a yawn and pressed her lips together in fury. I wasn’t inviting you anyway.

‘Fine. I’ll call you in a few days,’ said Daisy.

‘OK,’ mumbled Christian. ‘I gotta go, my personal trainer is here. We’ll talk soon.’

Daisy ended the call, feeling like she had plenty more to say, but all of it could wait until she felt less frazzled. She threw her phone on the sofa and sipped her tea. Was she overreacting? Could Christian’s show of support actually be quite helpful? Weren’t women always asking men to be more open, to show their emotions? Judging by the Twitter response, the public seemed to think it was adorable. So why was she so unsettled?

CHAPTER THREE