Sighing, Daisy lugged her case onto the bed, thinking that at least they didn’t have a marriage to dissolve and children to console. Things could be worse, she guessed, struggling to find a silver lining in the storm clouds hovering above her head.
But the reality was, she was thirty, single, and living back at home with her mum.
Her friends, once they found out, would rally round her, but she guessed their sympathy would be heavily laced with pity and the relief that they weren’t in her shoes, and the gossips at work would have a field day. She’d keep them going for weeks, months, even.
She unzipped one of the cases and started to unpack, one slow, reluctant item at a time, realising all she had to show for three cohabiting years were some clothes, shoes and toiletries. Of course, she’d bought things for “their” house, like the smoothie-maker, the scatter cushions, and the pretty art-deco lamp in the living room, but she hadn’t been lying when she’d said she didn’t want any of them. They held too many memories of him, of them, and the life they’d shared.
It had all been an illusion, though, hadn’t it? A lie to conceal Freddie’s sexuality and it had worked until he’d fallen in love.
She had the horrible thought that if he hadn’t met Carl, she and Freddie might have trundled on in this fashion for years, Daisy investing more and more time and emotion in the relationship until her eggs had shrivelled up along with her hope.
Thank goodness she’d been spared that.
She was young enough to start over again with someone else, but did she want to? She feared she didn’t have the stomach to do the dating thing anymore, and that she was destined to live with her mum until she was old and wrinkly and had been adopted by twenty-six cats.
Daisy came to the conclusion she hated her life. This wasn’t what she’d dreamed of when she left school, full of hope and anticipation. Now look at her. Every one of her friends was either married or in a long-term relationship, and most had kids, heck, even her baby brother had gotten himself hitched before she had.
Daisy sniffled into a crumpled tee shirt, feeling very sorry for herself, indeed.
Bracing herself, she took her mobile phone out of her handbag. Time to break the news to Sara. Daisy hated the thought of her best friend hearing about it via the grapevine, and bad news tended to travel fast. She’d leave telling her family for another time, though…
‘Daisy!’ Sara shrieked as soon as she answered the phone. ‘Are you all ready for Christmas? I’ve got you a lush pressie – you’re going to love it!’
Daisy’s heart sank – another thing she’d left at Freddie’s and would have to collect were all the presents she’d bought earlier today. Was it only today? It seemed like much, much longer.
‘I’ve got some news,’ she began hesitantly, but Sara interrupted her before she had a chance to say anything further.
‘Oh my God, are you engaged? That’s fantastic.’ Sara had a fiancé and had spent the last few months, since Andrew had popped the question, dropping huge unsubtle hints that it was about time Daisy joined her in bride-to-be bliss.
‘No,’ Daisy replied shortly. ‘Freddie and I—’
‘You’re not pregnant? Oh, Daisy, that’s fab! When’s it due?’
‘No! Now will you listen?’
‘I’m all ears.’
Daisy took a deep breath. ‘Freddie and I have split up.’
Silence on the other end.
‘Hello?’ Daisy called. ‘Are you still there?’
‘I’m here.’
‘I said—’
‘I heard.’
More silence and Daisy tried to think of a way to tell Sara what had happened. Her friend wasn’t reacting in the way Daisy thought she would. Where was all the sympathy?
‘Is it because he’s finally come out?’ Sara said, after the pause had stretched out for so long Daisy wondered if her friend had rung off.
‘What!’ Daisy shrieked.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s just that—’
‘You knew?’ Daisy was horrified.
‘Sort of. Not really, but Andrew once spotted Freddie in a gay bar and, well… he was with someone.’
‘With someone,’ Daisy repeated flatly.
‘A guy.’
‘What was Andrew doing in a gay bar?’ was all Daisy could think of to say.
‘He was out with friends on a stag do, and they thought Kitty Kats was a strip joint. It was, but not the sort they were expecting.’
‘And Freddie was there?’
‘Yes, I—’
‘With a man?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Kissing and stuff?’
‘Mmm…’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Look, Daisy, I’m sorry. I should have, but how do you tell your best friend that her boyfriend might swing both ways?’
‘You say, “your boyfriend was kissing another bloke”, that’s what you say,’ Daisy stated, anger building in her chest. Had everyone known, except her?
‘You’re right, maybe I should have.’
‘There’s no maybe about it.’ Daisy was firm – Sara should have told her.
‘My only excuse is that I didn’t want to hurt you, and Andrew was half-cut. He could have jumped to the wrong conclusion.’
‘That’s two excuses, and his conclusion was spot on.’
Sara was crying on the other end of the phone. ‘Please don’t hate me,’ she whimpered.
Daisy sighed. ‘I don’t hate you, I just wish you’d told me. How long ago was this?’
‘I don’t know, maybe a year?’
Sara had known for a year and hadn’t said a word. Daisy, despite her anger, admired her friend’s restraint. If Daisy had seen Andrew with another woman, she’d have been straight round to Sara’s to tell her.
Daisy paused. Or would she? She put herself in Sara’s position and tried to imagine how that conversation would pan out – and failed.
Her temper slowly subsided. Freddie wasn’t important enough to risk her friendship with Sara. No man was.
Taking a deep breath, Daisy admitted, ‘I caught him at it with another man.’
‘Aw, love,’ Sara sniffed, and blew her nose loudly.
Daisy held the phone away from her ear.
‘That’s awful,’ Sara said. ‘My heart goes out to you.’
Daisy appreciated the empathy, but she had a sneaking suspicion that her family wouldn’t be quite as sympathetic.
Chapter 5
‘No, Mum, she’s not said a word.’ Daisy’s mother was peeling potatoes, a mound of them, and talking to Elsie at the same time, when Daisy stalked into the kitchen, catching her mother and her nan in the act.
‘Were you talking about me?’ she asked them, knowing full well they were.
Her mother and her nan looked around guiltily. Her nan rallied first, going on the attack.
‘You should be ashamed of yourself, worrying your mother like this,’ she began. ‘You come back home, refusing to say what happened. She thought she’d got rid of you, and here you are, turning up again like a bad penny.’
‘Thanks, Nan.’ Got rid of me, indeed! Charming!
‘I’m right, aren’t I, Sandra?’ Daisy’s nan said. ‘Now take our David, he’s no trouble to anybody.’
Yeah, well, when you’re a saint you’re not going to cause anyone any trouble, Daisy thought sarcastically. Her brother was the perfect son, the golden boy, the only man on the planet who could do no wrong, hence her nickname for him – Saint David. He was another bloke she couldn’t compete with.
‘Now Mum, leave our Daisy alone. I’m sure she’s got her reasons,’ her mother said, in a rare show of solidarity for Daisy. Nan scowled at her daughter.
Not for the first time in the four days since she’d walked out of Freddie’s house, Daisy almost regretted her decision to move back in with her mother. Maybe she should have stayed put and fronted it out, rather than leave Freddie to wallow in the ste
w of his own making, though, from what she could see, Freddie wasn’t exactly doing much in the way of wallowing. She’d heard that Carl had moved in. If Freddie was doing any wallowing, he was doing it with Carl, in the bed Daisy had once slept in with Freddie, leaving Daisy to cram herself in a box room filled with crap, and trying to muck along with two very opinionated and set-in-their-ways elderly women.
Daisy envied Saint David with all her green, little heart.
‘Well?’ Elsie demanded.
‘What, Nan?’
‘Are you going to explain why you walked out of a perfectly good house and away from a perfectly good man, if you can call any man “good”, to move back in with us?’ Elsie was relentless.
It was time to spill the beans. The pair of them would only keep on at her until she did.
‘Because he’s been having an affair – with a man.’ There, she’d said it. She wished she didn’t have to, but her nan, and to some extent her mother (though her mother was more subtle about it) had been demanding an explanation ever since she’d rocked up with her suitcases, a face like thunder, and a heart to match. Besides, word was bound to get around, and they’d find out sooner or later anyway. She might as well get it over with.
‘Eh, what?’ Elsie said.
‘You heard.’ Daisy had no intention of repeating it.
‘You say Freddie is doing the dirty with a fella? Well, I never!’ Her nan sat back in her chair and folded her arms. ‘I always said there was something fishy about that Freddie of yours. You should have listened to me.’
‘You say that about every man you’ve ever met,’ Daisy retorted, aware that the older woman had just contradicted herself – only a few minutes ago she was singing his praises.
Her grandmother generally disliked all men, except for Saint David. Her mother wasn’t keen on them either. Daisy’s fear was that she, herself, was speeding along the same path, to end up her mother’s age, hating the opposite sex, and being a lonely spinster.
‘At least that Freddie didn’t get you pregnant,’ her nan stated. ‘Though you are looking a bit porky around the stomach.’
‘Thanks,’ Daisy said. ‘I can’t help it if I comfort eat.’ Her appetite had come back with a vengeance after that first awful day, and she hadn’t stopped eating since. Chocolate mostly, so her mother had taken to hiding the tin of Quality Street under the stairs. It had taken Daisy less than five minutes to find it, and now the chocolates were more than half gone, and Daisy would have to go out and buy another tin.
‘Is David joining us for lunch?’ she asked, to change the subject.
‘He’s always here for Sunday lunch.’ Daisy heard the reprimand in her mother’s voice. Sandra added, ‘He’s gone to fetch Gee-Gee.’
Daisy felt a tad guilty – she hadn’t seen her great-grandmother in weeks. ‘How is she?’
‘Old,’ was Nan’s reply.
And she wasn’t wrong. When David, closely followed by his wife Zoe, manoeuvred Gee-Gee’s wheelchair over the doorstep and into the hall, Daisy was shocked to see how old her great-gran looked. Still, ninety-six was a good age, and at least she was lucid. More or less. Some of the time.
‘Daisy,’ she said gummily, holding her arms out.
Daisy leaned in for a kiss and regretted it when the old woman slobbered on her cheek.
‘What are we having?’ Gee-Gee asked.
‘Beef,’ Sandra said.
‘Eh?’
‘Beef.’ Sandra yelled this time.
‘No need to shout,’ Gee-Gee said, and Daisy sniggered. Sunday lunch at her mum’s house could be rather entertaining, if a little fraught.
‘What are you doing here?’ Gee-Gee demanded, staring at Elsie.
‘I live here.’
‘Why? I thought you had your own house. David, doesn’t Elsie have her own house?’
‘Not for quite some time now, Gee-Gee,’ David said, wheeling the old lady into the living room. As he passed Daisy he whispered, ‘I hear you’ve moved back in.’
Daisy scowled at his smug expression. It was alright for him, with his perfect life. He had no idea what she’d just been through.
Elsie soon enlightened him. ‘’Ere, David, guess what? That Freddie has got himself a bit on the side.’
Yep, that about summed it up.
Zoe let out a squeal of laughter and Daisy narrowed her eyes at the younger woman. She failed to understand what David saw in his wife, aside from the long blond hair, big blue eyes, and upturned nose.
‘What?’ David paused his wheelchair duties, and even Gee-Gee perked up. ‘Come again?’ he said.
‘Daisy’s young man,’ Elsie said loudly, ‘has been having an affair, with another man. That’s why our Daisy has come back home to live.’
‘Is it true?’ David’s eyes lit up in glee. Sibling rivalry was still alive and kicking, then.
‘Yes,’ Daisy muttered, her face pink. It was a wonder her great-gran didn’t feel the heat coming off her cheeks and demand someone help her remove her coat (she had a habit of keeping it on, regardless of the temperature).
‘That sort of thing didn’t happen in my day,’ Gee-Gee said, to no one in particular.
Zoe giggled again. She giggled a lot, usually at inappropriate times. Daisy thought she was a bit… vacant? dumb? dippy? Probably all three.
Gee-Gee piped up, ‘That’s nice, three generations of women together in the same house. Like Macbeth’s witches.’
Daisy grinned, until she realised that the three witches her great-gran was referring to, was Daisy, Sandra, and Elsie. ‘I don’t think the Macbeth witches were related, Gee-Gee, and with you here, that makes four.’
‘There’s six of us. I can count, you know.’
Daisy was confused for a moment, until she realised her great-gran was including David and Zoe. ‘I mean, four generations of women: you, nan, mum and me,’ she added but Gee-Gee wasn’t listening.
‘None of you can keep a man for love nor money,’ Gee-Gee said. ‘There’s something wrong with the lot of you. Zoe, hang on to our David, else you’ll end up like this lot. Bitter.’
‘I’m not bitter,’ Daisy protested, then realised that she was. Very.
Four years she’d wasted on Freddie, and here she was at the other end of those years in exactly the same position as she’d been at the start of them.
Actually, that wasn’t true. She was in a worse position, because during those years when Daisy thought she was happily home-making, her nan had moved into the family home, forcing Daisy to sleep in the little box room which had once belonged to her brother.
Daisy had gone from smug, self-satisfied contentment to bitterness, envy, and despair in the space of a week. And during those years, Saint David had qualified as a dentist, got married, and had bought a lovely four-bed detached house in a nice village.
At least, Daisy said to herself, I can’t sink much lower than this.
Chapter 6
‘What did you say, Gee-Gee,’ Daisy asked her great-grandmother, after wiping the old lady’s chin. She’d only been half listening, because she had been concentrating on getting the spoon into Gee-Gee’s mouth without dropping anything. Mentally her great-gran might still be okay, but physically Gwenda needed a great deal of help, and being fed was part of that.
‘I said, you need a dollop of good luck,’ Gee-Gee repeated.
Daisy sure did; a great big, steaming pile of it. She didn’t think a measly dollop would make much difference. Perhaps she should start playing the lottery, or betting on the horses – though knowing her luck at the moment, she’d lose every penny she had.
‘Fetch my bag, lovely,’ Gee-Gee said to Daisy, pointing to where she’d left it in the living room.
Daisy did as she was asked, hoping her great-gran wasn’t going to try to foist a tenner on her, like she used to when Daisy was a child. Daisy appreciated the gesture, but she didn’t want the old lady’s money – the poor old thing only had her pension, and most of that went towards her upkeep at the re
tirement home.
Daisy watched as the frail, trembling fingers, distorted by arthritis, probed and poked in the depths of the bag, her hopes sinking when Gwenda removed a purse. From past experience, Daisy knew not to argue, but to accept the money, then try to sneak it back into Gwenda’s purse when the old lady wasn’t looking.
‘Open it for me,’ Gee-Gee instructed, her gnarled hands clutching it awkwardly.
Daisy did as she was asked, making a face at the assortment of stuff inside: coins, hairgrips, old receipts (to Daisy’s knowledge, her great-gran hadn’t been anywhere near a shop for years), elastic bands, but no paper money.
‘There’s a sixpence in there somewhere,’ Gwenda said.
‘A what?’
‘A sixpence, an itty-bitty silver coin.’
Daisy stuck her fingers in, and dug through the various coins. Ten pence pieces, five pences, copper coins and the flash of pound coins, were mixed with money she didn’t recognise. Daisy held up one of them, a coin she’d first thought was a pound, but on closer inspection, it was a flatter colour and slightly smaller. She wondered which country it came from, and how it had ended up in her great-gran’s purse.
She held it up.
‘That’s a thruppeny bit, that is,’ Gwenda said, with a wistful look on her face. ‘I miss the old money.’
‘Old money?’ Daisy vaguely recalled a mention of pre-decimalisation money, but she hadn’t taken much notice.
Sandra said, ‘I remember it. You couldn’t get to grips with the new money for ages, could you, Gee-Gee?’
‘New-fangled rubbish. There was nothing wrong with proper money. Why did they have to change it?’ Gee-Gee’s expression folded into hundreds of creases as she screwed her face up in disgust.
‘Because everything was decimalised in the early seventies, no more twelve this, and shillings that,’ Sandra said.
Daisy remembered how, when she was younger, she’d hear Gee-Gee mutter, ‘How much is that in old money,’ and then doing some weird conversion on her fingers.
‘I used to get a sixpence every Friday night off my old da, for helping Mam around the house,’ Gwenda said. ‘I want you to have it, Daisy. It’s in there somewhere.’
A Very Lucky Christmas Page 4
