Ollie is watching me, and I realise that I do actually want to tell him. I want to explain. I don’t want him to think I just gave up on everything for no reason.
I don’t want him to think I turned my back on the person I used to be, the ambitious, confident teenager he’d once kissed.
I put down my glass I am clutching before I either break it, or end up spilling the drink all over myself, because my hands are trembling so much. Take a deep breath and look him in the eye.
And something about him is so open, so honest, so concerned, it helps me speak with hardly a trace of a wobble in my voice.
‘If I tell you this, you mustn’t tell anybody. Not Uncle Terence, not your parents, nobody.’
He stares back, confused. But nods.
‘Especially not your Mum.’ Though I suspect she might know.
‘Daisy, you’re worrying me here.’
‘I couldn’t concentrate because,’ I summon up the courage, my blood is pounding in my ears, my voice sounds distant, then it comes out in a rush, ‘I found out I was pregnant.’
I’ve not spoken about that pregnancy, that baby, for years.
Since I was eighteen years old, and doing it now, putting it into real spoken out-loud words is weird.
I definitely don’t feel unburdened and light though.
This is why my mother’s plans for me and perfect Ollie are so, so way off the mark. I don’t deserve a family, I don’t deserve a sparkling life, and I don’t deserve a man like Ollie. A man who can have it all, when I know damned well that I would never be able to give him the baby he’d want. I couldn’t. I couldn’t face that again.
And from the look of shock on his face he’s just realised how different our lives now are.
But I do deserve a better life than the one I’ve got. I do deserve to get back on track, even if that track is a different one from the one Ollie is on. From now on we need to live parallel lives, in the same apartment.
I swallow. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just studies my face. Then he slowly puts his own glass down.
‘Oh, Daisy, why have you never told anybody?’ He puts his hand over mine, and I can’t help it, I snatch mine away. I don’t want to be touched. Not right now. Because I don’t want to cry, I don’t want to think about that stupid pregnancy test, that stupid blue line that I’d not been able to fix. Up until then I’d had a solution for everything in my life. And suddenly, I hadn’t. ‘What happened to—’
‘Do you mind if we stop?’ My throat is scratchy, the words stilted. ‘Talk about it another time, please?’
He nods.
I blink away the prickly sensation in my eyes. ‘I couldn’t concentrate, I tried, I really tried but my brain just didn’t work, I couldn’t do it. But I still thought, I still hoped that I’d somehow wing it, that I’d get the grades. I’d still been shocked that I’d cocked it all up.’ I sip my wine and frown down at the glass. ‘Seeing those results on paper completely threw me.’ My words swirl around in my mouth, my head, then slowly sink in.
I had felt like I’d lost everything. I’d got nothing. Was nothing.
It completely derailed me, I can see that now. When I was young, everything had always worked out okay for me, I’d just drifted along without questioning things. I’d never for a moment considered failure. It wasn’t that I thought I was too good, it just didn’t really exist. And even though I had struggled over some of the questions on the exam papers, it had still never occurred to me that I would end up with nothing.
Failure and loss had left me feeling steamrollered. Squashed and useless. I’d always succeeded, then I’d failed at the most important point of my life so far. ‘Then I guess I started to question what I wanted.’
‘Which is?’
‘I dunno.’ I look down, avoiding his earnest gaze. Trying to keep my voice even. ‘I really didn’t have an answer.’ The question was too big, too difficult. Too unexpected.
I thought I’d known what I’d wanted, then in a blink of an eye my future life had been swept away by a pregnancy I’d not expected and a set of crappy exam questions I hadn’t prepared for.
I flap my hand in front of my face and bite down on my lip to stop the emotion bursting free. There’s a long pause, then he seems to realise he needs to change tack. Save me before this gets messy.
‘I thought you did actually work at the vets? With, old what’s his name Hanford, Herbert?’
‘How do you know that? You were in Borneo or Bosnia or somewhere.’ I laugh awkwardly, relieved he’s moved on.
‘Bristol probably.’ His tone is dry, but there are dimples at the corners of his mouth. ‘I’ve only done a couple of stints abroad. But Mum told me.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘She tells me quite a lot about you.’
My God, has he been regaled with every detail of my crap life, in the same way I’ve had the minutiae of his success?
‘He let me go. The vet.’
‘Because?’He tops up our glasses.
‘I threatened him with a scalpel when he tried to put a cat down for no reason.’
‘No reason?’
‘Well it did wee where it shouldn’t, well not just where it shouldn’t, pretty much everywhere, but he might do that one day! Incontinence shouldn’t be a death sentence!’
Ollie is chuckling, I heave a sigh of relief. I’m on solid ground again. ‘He’s a stupid git anyway, haven’t liked him since he called our rabbit weird.’
‘Well, Hoppity was a bit weird.’ I try to keep a straight face and serious voice. He was, I think in a previous life he had been a lamb or kid.
‘So? There’s plenty of room in the world for weird.’
‘True.’
‘How did you end up writing small ads then?’
‘I was headhunted.’ I wink, and he laughs again. I quite like making him laugh. In the old days it was the other way round, he used to enjoy nothing better than pinning me to the ground and tickling me until I felt sick. That kind of behaviour is perfectly acceptable when you’re under the age of ten, less so when you are grown adults like we are now. If he did it now it might lead to all kinds of things it shouldn’t. I must stop thinking these inappropriate thoughts. I really must. ‘They loved my witty prose. I sent in ads for the dog’s home.’
‘Ah, right. Sorry you lost Stanley.’
‘So am I. I miss him.’
‘I missed Hoppity.’ He says it with such a straight face, for a moment I think he’s serious. Then the fan of fine line lines round his eyes deepens, and his dimples reappear.
It’s sickening to admit, but I’m not surprised Vera goes on about him so much. He’s a son to be proud of.
The laughter dies from his face. ‘But you’re good now, you want to do this job?’
‘I do.’ As I say it, I realise I really do. I like writing. I like the slight air of chaos in the office, the buzz of activity, the tension as deadlines approach. It’s good. It’s fun. ‘It’s just a tiny bit …’
‘Terrifying?’
I nod.
‘I’m terrified every time I go into surgery. But what do they say? Feel the fear and do it anyway? You can do this, Dais, you know you can. Any girl who can beat me at arm wrestling has to be a winner, even if she did cheat.’
‘Who are you calling a cheat? I just used my initiative. Anyway, you just want me to do it so I start earning and can get out of your hair.’
‘You said it!’ He’s got that cheeky grin on his face, the one I remember from years ago.
‘I will be rich and famous.’ I wave my arms about. ‘And worth boasting about, people will read my column and gasp!’
We both laugh, and then he stops first. Probably because he is less pissed than me, this wine really has gone to my head.
I think talking about awkward stuff made me neck it quicker than I should have.
‘Stuff all that, you will be you, Dais, the old you. The one we love.’ He’s looking at me so intently I’ve come out in goose bumps, maybe he is as pissed as me. It’s all a bit i
ntense.
There’s a loud buzz and for a moment I’m confused, then realise it’s the intercom. We both dash for it at the same time and have a messy wine incident when we clash.
‘Yes?’ Ollie has beaten me to it.
‘Oh, er, not sure got right door.’
Even though it’s distorted, and I don’t know his voice very well, it has to be Tim. Nobody else misses so many words out. ‘Looking for Daisy?’
‘I’m here!’ I yell under Ollie’s armpit, he’s too tall for me to shout over his shoulder even when I stand on tip toes. I press the entry button, and a second later he’s at the door.
‘Ta-dah!’ Waggling a bottle of wine. ‘Welcome gift!’ He stares at Ollie. ‘Not interrupting anything am I?’ It is then I remember that I said he was welcome to pop in any time.
‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’ Lovely, funny Ollie has gone, and stiff, formal Ollie is back. Shame. Although better to be interrupted before I drank more wine and was tempted to rugby tackle him, which could go badly now we’re both grown up. ‘I’ll be off then, don’t want to get in your way.’ He picks up his jacket. ‘Stay in touch, and er good luck with the job, though I know you’ll smash it. Fine, right.’ He is suddenly awkward, which is unexpected.
‘Yes, sure, thanks for helping, and for dropping in, and everything.’
He smiles, a soft, gentle glance that is less sympathy, more understanding. Could I ever tell Tim, or any other man, what I’ve just told him? My cheeks are burning.
‘Oh,’ he takes a step then pauses on the doorstep, ‘Uncle T said if you need any help give him a shout. I’m the muscle man,’ he flexes his arm and I can’t help but smile, ‘he’s the literary expert. For God’s sake don’t confuse us and ask me about books.’
‘She’s got me for that!’ Says Tim, shrugging off his coat. Making himself at home alarmingly easily.
‘Sure.’ Ollie gives him what only can be described as an assessing look and is gone. He’ll have to be careful or I’ll put him back in the pompous prick category.
I smile at Tim, and for a brief moment feel a little bit miffed that he arrived just as my goose-bumps burst out. It was just like old times chatting to Ollie. But better.
Actually, he’s not pompous at all. I’m a little bit sad he’s gone now – it might have been quite nice to spend the whole evening together.
7 p.m., 29 April
‘Let’s drink to surviving a week!’ Tim raises his beer bottle and plonks his feet on the coffee table. I’m not sure Ollie would approve.
‘Oh my God, yeah!’ Frankie who is sitting on my other side raises her glass. ‘Here’s to the end of shitty adverts and a whole new beginning for the critic of the year!’
I decide not to mention the fact that only a week ago she was telling me that advertising manager was my way forward, and I was compromising my ideals by starting at the bottom again. I was actually quite miffed at the time, and if it hadn’t been for Ollie agreeing that my job was totally the right thing, I might have started doubting myself again. I try not to sigh. Frankie is lovely, Frankie is amazing, but sometimes she isn’t exactly encouraging – in fact she can put quite a dampener on things. I’ve started to wonder if Frankie actually preferred the old, accepting me, and might not totally have my interests at heart. She’s been more comfort blanket (sympathising with my lack of success) than Mrs Motivator.
‘How’s she doing?’ She talks across me to Tim.
‘Acing it.’ Tim gives a thumbs up.
I am actually. Acing it. I have written my first bunch of reviews and if I say so myself, they were rather good. Tim also took me to a very good vegan café for lunch and kissed me on the way back. It wasn’t completely toe-curlingly good, but it was more than passable. It stirred up feelings in my nether regions that hadn’t been stirred for quite a long time. I had been a bit concerned that more than my abs would have been declared redundant by my 32nd birthday, but I am now cautiously optimistic that a full bodily work out is on the cards.
‘You haven’t snogged him, have you?’ Hisses Frankie in my ear as I open the front door for her.
‘Might have.’ I think I have a silly grin on my face.
‘But he’s a vegan, what if he doesn’t eat—’
‘Go away!’ I push her out of the door before she finishes her sentence, which I have a feeling is going to be very rude.
‘Are you allowed to shag your boss?’
‘Out!’
‘Call me tomorrow, report on the meat situation!’ She cackles and dodges my swipe.
‘Miss you, Frankie!’
‘Miss you too, hun. But boy is Tarquin trying to make up for my loss!’
Chapter 14
8 p.m., 10 July
‘I thought you’d want to know, it didn’t work out for Stanley.’
‘How? What? Hang on Carrie, let me mark this page.’ I stick an envelope between the pages and drop the book I’m trying to read.
To be honest, I feel like my brain is on fire and my head is about to explode. I don’t normally read anything scary, as there are far too many nasty things in real life and I like my fiction to cheer me up, but I was told (by Tim) that this was a must read, we couldn’t not review it. It is scary, I am holding my breath, but also flicking the pages as fast as I can. Partly because I just have to know what happens, partly because the quicker I can get it over with the more chance I have of sleeping tonight. It’s a love hate relationship, God only knows how I am going to review it. The words ‘not for the faint hearted’ definitely need to be included.
‘The vet called us after their cat got totally cheesed off with being chased and nearly took his eye out.’
‘Oh no, poor Stanley.’
‘It’s not just that.’ There’s a long pause. ‘That’s the story they told him, but he said there are other cuts and bruises and he’s got quite nervous. I mean, can you imagine Stanley diving for cover when there’s food on offer?’
‘No.’ It comes out as a little squeak. I feel a bit queasy, my stomach all hollow. Surely nobody could harm gentle little Stanley.
‘That’s why he called me. I picked him up, and he’s definitely not himself, but now the bloody people want him back, they said they’ll sue us if I dare re-home him with anybody else, said he’s theirs now and they can do what they want. How could I get it so wrong?’ She finishes on a bit of a wail.
‘Oh hell, Carrie. It’s not your fault, it really isn’t, you’re so careful about checking people out. The sods. Do you want to bring him here? Poor little Stanley, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.’ A sausage roll maybe, but not a fly.
‘No, I can’t.’ She sighs. ‘He needs to be here until this is resolved, or God knows what they’ll accuse me of. I can’t afford solicitors or anything like that.’
‘I’ll have a think. Maybe I can get somebody to run something in the paper?’
‘I’m not trying to stir up trouble, I don’t want you to do anything, Daisy. I just wanted you to know, I know how fond of him you were.’
‘Okay, thanks. But if there’s anything I can do.’
‘Thanks, hun. I’ll call you. I just thought you should know, that’s all.’
9pm 10th July
I can’t concentrate on my book. How can my head deal with a duplicitous psycho killer when poor Stanley is in danger? What if they go and smuggle him out when Carrie isn’t looking?
Or, I put the book back down, what if I do it first?
I blame the story for making me think this way. But it is a brilliant idea! Carrie doesn’t even know where I live now, so she’ll have no idea where he is if they call in the heavy mob. They’ll never find him!
But I can’t do it on my own.
I’ll call Tim.
I can’t call Tim. We decided to rethink (his word not mine) our relationship after a mega row by the water cooler at work yesterday. It started with chocolate. I’d tried to snatch a quick snog the night before after committing the felony of eating milk chocolate. It was still on my teeth, or tongue
, or breath or something. Apparently, it completely ruined the kiss for him, and made him feel a bit off all the way home, so he just had to bring it up at work, he couldn’t not as it was preying on his mind.
Oh God, he is so not perfect for me. How can I go out with somebody who doesn’t like chocolate? But he’s kind, and nice, and keen to help my career. And it would be so lovely to take him with me to Mum’s surprise party, and maybe even Uncle T’s Christmas Eve buffet, and show everybody how far I’ve come this year.
And I do like him.
Even if when I mentioned that feeding me tofu under false pretences was worse than chocolate-breath, it all escalated from there and came to a head when our boss happened to walk past and tapped his watch. We were on a deadline.
To be honest though, I’ve never been sure about the whole going out with somebody from work thing (though it is where I’ve met quite a few boyfriends), so we decided like mature adults that we should take a step back. So we have. Which is a bugger as far as the party goes.
He’s not spoken to me since, apart from to throw the scary book at me.
I could ask Frankie to help me rescue Stanley, but she might give the game away if Carrie goes over there. It needs to be somebody independent.
‘You don’t know where the bottle opener is, do you?’
‘Shit!’ I jump. ‘You scared me, I forgot you were here.’ Ollie isn’t here often, and when he is, he’s a bit like the invisible man. Especially if Tim is around. He doesn’t seem to like him much, he comes over all stilted and formal, and apologises for interrupting.
Which actually makes living with him much easier than I thought it would be. Not the stilted bit, the not being there bit.
I’ve actually got this massive place all to myself most of the time, but it’s quite nice when Ollie is here, it somehow makes the place feel more like home. Which is a bit weird, but it does. I guess we’ve known each other so long we’re like brother and sister, even if I do sometimes have very un-sisterly thoughts about him. But no way am I ever going to act on them and kiss him a third time (not that he’d want me to), I’d be losing one of my best buddies. But I am bloody tempted at times, just so that I can see if his snogging has improved. That’s all. No other reason.
Four Christmases and a Secret Page 13
