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‘Nicetry,Madonna.IfonlyIhad time for a holiday.’Daisysucked in a sharp breath. ‘Ohget a grip, woman,’ she berated herself. ‘Whendid you become such a misery guts?I’meven annoying myself!Comeon, it’s a beautiful day,I’vegot groovy tunes on the radio and it must be at least thirtyCelsiusout there.Life’sgood.I’lldrop off the sunflowers first, deliver the bouquet toCrewkerneand do the peonies last beforeIgo back to the shop.’Madonnaslid into ‘GirlsJustWanttoHaveFun’ causingDaisyto growl out between gritted teeth, ‘I’mtrying,Cyndimy lovely,I’mreally trying.It’sjust thatIcan’t seem to stop being angry at everyone and everything.’
She’ddriven toWalter’shouse so often now that she knew the route off by heart.Onceshe’d parked up on the drive, she punched inBella’snumber to ask her to keep back a box of fresh cream cakes.Hopefully, that should go part-way to mollify her motherandMia.She’dthink of a way of making it up toMarionlater, half resenting the impulse.Afterwhat the woman had done, it should be the other way round.Itwas the last blind dateMarionarranged that she’d agree to go on.Ever.
Thehouse was still sleeping and still unoccupied.Theonly change was the bucket which had been filled with fresh water and put by the kitchen door in readiness.Itwas a thoughtful gesture.Wedgingthe bouquet so it wouldn’t topple over, she stood back to admire it.Thesunflower faces tilted up at her, hopeful and cheery, their golden petals glowing against the backdrop of dark-green foliage.She’dbeen right to keep it simple.Flowersthat dramatic deserved to let their beauty breathe.Anyfussy adornment would be too much.Thematte brown paper and thick raffia tie was perfect.Decidingto sit on the metal bench on the patio in the sun, she lingered a little, in the forlorn hope someone might be around and she could hand over the flowers in person.But, after five minutes or so, she became self-conscious.Shecouldn’t just sit in someone else’s garden; it seemed rude.Besides, she needed to go.
Asshe drove away, she glanced in her rear-view mirror, really hoping someone was popping in regularly and keeping an eye on the place.Beingso remote, it would be an easy target for a burglary.LullburyBaywas a quiet sort of place, but recent events proved it wasn’t immune to crime.
Thewoman inCrewkernewas ecstatic to receive the bunch of deep-pink stargazer lilies.Itwas obviously unexpected;Daisy’sfavourite kind of delivery.Sheloved the joy a simple bunch of flowers could give, especially when coming out of the blue.Rememberingthe message the customer had dictated over the phone, he was in for some seriousBrowniepoints.Grinning, her mood lifting, she got in the van and headed back toLullburyBay.Buoyedby the delivery, it reminded her why she was in the profession, she didn’t even curse at the tourist traffic which made her journey twice as long.Thegood mood didn’t last very long, however.Hummingalong to theBeeGees’ ‘HowDeepIsYourLove’ on the radio, she remembered it was her father’s favourite.
Daisydidn’t visit the town cemetery very often, but when she needed it her father’s grave gave her solace.Sheshould visit more but she never seemed to have enough time.However, it was always somewhere she was drawn to when things were tough.Andthe last few months had been difficult.Workhad been crazy busy and her moods and emotions all over the place.Sheneeded its solace right now and always found the place peaceful, even at the height of tourist season when the grockles invaded every other space.
SheparkedPrimrosein an empty car park and walked along the gravel path leading to her father’s grave.Thegardens were kept beautifully and despite the current hot, dry weather the grass was a smooth velvety green.Theplanting was a touch ‘corporate’ and unimaginative toDaisy’seye but she could see the geraniums and shockingly bright tangerine marigolds had been tended and looked after.Twoavenues of purple sycamore trees gave shade and the gardener had dotted trays of water around for the birds.Itwas a truly tranquil spot.Ifgiven a choice, she’d rather have her father alive and with them but, if you had to lie somewhere, this was about as perfect as it got.
Thegrave was at the newer end of the cemetery where the headstones stuck up in regimented fashion, like a regular set of teeth, glowing a pearly white in the hot sun.
‘RoderickJamesWiscombe, devoted husband and father.Born1960, died 2006,’ she read.Itdidn’t seem much to sum up a man’s life.Itshould read that he was fun, was generous with his hugs and kisses, tickled her until she begged for mercy and did a spot-onEricMorecombeimpression.
‘Missyou,Dad.’Sheknelt next to the headstone and poked the stems of the peonies through the holes in the flower container.Fillingit with water, she knelt back and realised, with a sickening jolt, that her father had been forty-six when he died, not much more than ten years older than she was now.Fromher perspectiveof someone in her mid-thirties it suddenly felt very young.Muchtoo young to die.Ifshe wanted to find the love of her life and make babies, her mother was right, she might not have much time.Forthe first time it occurred to her that she’d deliberately sought out a career change to escape the future rut of being in teaching all her working life, only to dive into what might possibly be a new one.Ifall she had time for was work, was she really living?
Herfather had certainly been robbed of his threescore years and ten.Andshe was sure he had much more to give the world than just working all the hours given.Wasshe like him?Yes, far too like him.Sheworked to the exclusion of everything else.Butwhat else could she do?
Griefovercame her, suddenly and unexpectedly.Thewatering can rolled to one side, bleeding water onto the grass.Shegave in to great gulping, hiccoughing sobs, covering her face with her hands.Itall seemed so unfair.Herfather had missed out on so much.She’dmissed out on sharing so much with him.He’dnever seen her qualify with her teaching degree.Wouldnever see her business flourish.Wouldnever hold his grandchildren.Ifshe ever had time to make any.Thetears fell uninhibitedly.He’dnever been able to enjoy a retirement, or had enough years married to her mother.Therewas so much he would have gone on to do had he had the chance.
Greatwrenching sobs bubbled up from inside and now she’d begun crying, it seemed she couldn’t stop.Shehadn’t wept like this over her father for years.Allher business worries, her feelings aboutRick, the frustration over her unsuccessful dates, her loneliness – yes, she admitted, she was lonely – collided.SeeingHonorandJagoecstatically planning their wedding had hammered that home.Shewas so lonely she could scream at the universe.Longrepressed emotions hurled themselves out of her along with her shuddering sobbing.Sheclutched her sides and gave in to the pain.
Partof her was distantly aware of someone walking along the footpath behind her, their footsteps crunching on the gravel, butshe was left undisturbed.Eventually, she fished out a tissue, scrubbed her face and blew her nose.Suckingin some deep breaths she tried to calm herself.Herfather had been dead a long time; she’d thought the grieving was over but perhaps it never was, it just eased into a different gear.Shesat there a while, staring into space and letting a peace descend.
Embarrassed, she collected the watering can and replaced it underneath the tap and then went to sit on a bench.Asycamore shifted overhead, its leaves giving off pattering sighs and a gentle shade.Daisyfelt a tranquillity wash over her.Perhapsit was the after-effects of a good cry, or perhaps it was the surroundings.Itreally was a good place to end up in.Asmooth open space on the western fringes of town, serene and immaculately kept.Shepromised herself she’d come more often.Closingher eyes, she let her mind drift, listening to the soothing sounds of gulls wheeling high above.Timepassed and a sort of ragged hush descended over her.
‘Hi,Daisy,’ a quiet voice said.
Openingher eyes, she saw who it was. ‘Rick!’
‘Doyou mind ifIsit with you?’
Daisyshifted slightly away from him, not wanting to expose her tear-ravaged face.Shestopped herself from pointing out it was a free country and he could sit anywhere, and simply nodded.
Theysat in silence for a while.Daisywished she could say it was companionable, but it was far from that.Shewondered if his were the feet she’d heard when giving in to her crying jag.Ablackbird dropped down and hopped about, head on one side looking for insects.Itflew off disappointed, to be replaced by a fat pigeon who waddled about and then drank from one of the water trays.Itwas quiet, with no other mourners, only the distant rumble of traffic from the road and the odd keening gull to be heard.
Hewas first to break the frigidity. ‘IthinkImay have upset you in some way when we had lunch atTheToad.I’mso verysorry ifIdid.Pleaseaccept my apology.Itried to say something atGretel’sfuneral but it wasn’t the right moment.’
Itwas a pretty speech and at least he didn’t mention his uninterested girlfriend.
Daisyrelented and eased herself round to face him. ‘Youdidn’t upset me,’ she lied. ‘Ijust remembered there was somewhereIneeded to be.’
‘That’sgood,’ he grinned, obviously relieved, ‘Ihope you got there.’
‘Where?’ she asked, mystified.
‘Whereyou had to be.’
‘Oh.Yes.’Daisywinced.Shenever could lie convincingly.
‘I’vemade some progress with the restaurant idea.IthinkI’vefound some premises that might suit.’
Despiteherself,Daisywas interested.Atleast it took her out of her introspection. ‘Where?’
‘Theplace on the high street.It’sall boarded up at the moment but looks as if it shares a courtyard with a chapel at the back?’
