James laughed with affection and grabbed her hand, holding it up to his cheek.
‘Do you also remember how appalled my mother was at our ceremony? She wanted to know why we had all this posh food, when we could have had her hog roaster for free…’
Daisy smiled, brushed more tears from her cheeks, and rose from her chair, her legs unsteady beneath her. She had not been expecting that. The grief suddenly felt so fresh and acute, the breath knocked from her lungs.
‘Do you know I sometimes talk to the ceiling?’ She smiled, wiped her nose with a sheet of paper towel. ‘Because I let myself believe he can hear me.’
James smiled kindly. ‘I’ve done that too.’
‘Well, we’re as barmy as each other.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘Listen, James, this all feels quite odd actually.’ She held up the letter. ‘You see, many years ago Hugh and I watched this programme…’
‘I know.’ He nodded. ‘The couple in the French chateau. I saw it, Hugh told me you had been quite serious about this dream.’
‘He was very serious but I always thought it was a crazy idea.’ In her head, it had been more of a fantasy in which she would have never-ending guests who sipped G&Ts on the veranda and admired her peonies. She would, of course, wear a floppy hat and have a smudge of dirt from gardening on her left cheek as she greeted her regulars who would claim that the house was ‘looking more and more beautiful year on year and how did she stay looking so young too?’
Anyway, now Hugh wasn’t here, why would she even think about it? More to the point, why would she set up the B&B with James? She loved James dearly but this was such a huge commitment.
James cleared his throat. ‘Listen, he had just found out about the Big C so told me about this dream. I think he had started to think about you and how you would cope afterwards.’
Daisy lifted her head, and a familiar irritation at Hugh’s needing to control everything, even from the grave, flooded her body.
‘What? How I would cope? I am coping just fine, thank you. Good Lord. Why are men like that? Why do men feel they can just solve everything? So he thought he would get me to set up a B&B with you in order to get over my grief?’ She gave a sharp shake to her head. ‘God, a mathematician to the end.’ She gestured wildly with the letter. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to both you and Hugh for surmising that a sodding bed and breakfast would be a good idea but the thought, now, of anyone in my home is an abhorrent one, so the answer is no.
‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘don’t you have a job to get on with? You have, after all, just been promoted, haven’t you?’
His face flinched with hurt and he looked at the ground before looking back at her.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m not annoyed with you, more annoyed with Hugh. He knows I’m the sort of person who feels so guilty if someone asks me to do something. What about your job in London?’ she pressed.
A small smile appeared at the corner of James’s lips; he tried to hide it. ‘I quit a week or so ago, I didn’t enjoy it anymore anyway.’ He looked again at her face set in a defiant pose. ‘I’m actually not sure why I’m laughing but it is quite funny, but you look so lovely when you’re angry.’
‘That is not even funny.’ But then, she, too, felt a small bubble of laughter and she giggled. Once she started to giggle, James snorted as he tried to hold back his chuckling and then they started to laugh uncontrollably. James leant his hand against the wall as his broad frame convulsed with laughter.
Daisy wiped away the tears and realised how good it felt to let go like that.
Once they had both caught their breath, James smiled, resting his hand assuredly on her arm. ‘I didn’t quit my job because of this letter; I quit because I couldn’t bear working where Hugh had once been, the office wasn’t the same. You know?’
‘Yes,’ she said, calm now. ‘I know. I live in this house every day, remember?’
He nodded, his voice quiet. ‘I think that’s what Hugh was worried about, he thought you would stay here and perhaps feel you had to because it had been your home together. Then we agreed that there was no way you would ever consider selling it, so the next best option is to change it, invite people in.’
Daisy furrowed her brows. ‘You’re doing it again.’
‘What?’ Confusion crossed his face.
‘Being a man. Trying to solve it.’ She looked around her. ‘I love this house because it’s my home. I don’t need to invite strangers into it.’ She dipped her head. ‘Actually, if anything, I think I would resent that.’
James nodded. ‘Well, you know what’s best and you’re probably right but if you did want to try and you needed someone to look after the office side…’ He stuck his hands in the air. ‘I’m your man.’
‘Otherwise, what? You find another job in the city?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I thought I’d try moving.’
‘What? Out of London?’
‘No.’ He smiled. ‘Further afield. Australia. There are some great opportunities there at the moment and it would just mean properly getting away, starting again.’
Daisy’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Oh, I see.’ She was, for once, speechless. She knew he was right to want to move on but another country? Though why should it bother her? James was just a friend. Friends did that; they got on with their lives.
She stared hard at the ground, contemplative. Maybe it was because it felt like everyone else was moving on and she was stuck. Stuck in the thick quagmire of grief and memories that threatened to drown her. She couldn’t, however, stop other people from saving themselves.
‘Oh, that sounds wonderful,’ she said but she could hear the forced appreciation in her own voice.
‘You don’t sound that happy about it.’ James searched her face. ‘Sorry, it’s not that I’m abandoning ship, it’s just… you know.’
‘No, absolutely.’
Suddenly, there was the rumble of a car coming up the drive. She didn’t need to turn around to know it was Tom. The giveaway was the faulty exhaust pipe; it sounded like a Boeing 747 coming into land.
‘Hello darling Daisy,’ came a booming voice behind her and shortly the doorway was filled with the tall and athletic frame of Tom, wearing bright pink chino shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.
‘Oh my, Daisy.’ He air-kissed her cheeks then looked at James, grinning broadly. ‘If only I had known that James was here. I’d have put on my very special—’ he elongated this word ‘—cologne. This one is so understated and I hate to be understated.’
James, ever the gentleman, held out his hand. ‘Good to see you again, Tom.’
Tom clung to his hand like ivy to a wall. Daisy eventually had to tell him to let go.
‘Oh sorry, darling Daisy, it’s just this man has left me hanging since university days.’
That was the thing about Tom: not a shy, retiring bone in his body.
‘Why are you dressed up for some sort of New Orleans street party?’ she asked, eyeing his loud and proud outfit.
‘Well, darling, I’ve decided I’m not getting any…’ Once again, his eyes walked the length of James’s body who Daisy noticed flushed ever so slightly. It had taken her twenty years to not flinch at some of his statements. ‘So,’ he continued, ‘I think it’s because I’ve been wearing drab, wintry, but ever so chic, clothes. Now is the time to break free and show people my spring and summer wardrobe.’
Daisy giggled. ‘How’s it working out for you?’
‘Well, so far, some builders asked me when the parade started…’ Tom mused, grinning. ‘Anyway, more to the point, Lisa sent me.’
Daisy narrowed her eyes. ‘Oh, she did, did she?’
‘Yeah, she said you had big news and I was to find out what the big news was…’ He waited expectantly, like a puppy.
‘There is no news,’ Daisy interrupted quickly. ‘None.’
‘No, no news,’ James agreed, catching her grateful smile.
Tom put his hand on his hip. ‘OK, not be
ing funny. You two are so up to something.’ He grabbed the piece of paper from Daisy’s hand and turned his back on Daisy who madly tried to scramble it away from him.
‘Tom, give it back to Daisy, come on,’ James said, like an ever-patient schoolmaster.
Eventually, Tom turned back to them both and beamed. ‘This is wonderful. This is so wonderful.’
Daisy wrenched the letter from his grasp and held it to her chest. ‘It’s not happening.’
Tom wasn’t listening; he was already on his phone.
‘Lisa?’ He smiled at his audience and Daisy just stared on in horror. ‘Daisy is going to set up a bed and breakfast at the house.’ Daisy could hear a muffled voice on the other end of the receiver and she went to grab the phone.
‘It’s not true,’ she managed to say quickly before Tom had it back off her.
‘Yeah, and James is going to help her which means he’s going to live at the house. How good is that?’ He indicated his outfit. ‘I knew, when I put this on, something special was going to happen today.’ He touched Daisy’s arm tenderly, phone still pressed to his ear and then with a nod of his head to James, he said, ‘Come on guys, group hug. I’ll put you on speakerphone, Lisa. We are more than happy to help out, aren’t we, Lisa? We’ll be doing it in the name of Hugh.’
Daisy quickly found herself ensconced in a mass of male limbs, quickly noting that James wasn’t refusing and putting Tom right. No, he was fully involved in the group hug.
‘Um, guys…’ She disentangled an arm and waved her hand around like a white flag. ‘Um, I actually said no, I wasn’t going to do it.’
James and Tom moved in closer and she was well and truly trapped in a sandwich of testosterone, hairy chests and Tom’s sickening cologne. God, she couldn’t imagine what the other cologne – the special one – was like; she would have needed a gas mask.
‘Um, James, didn’t we just agree that we’re not doing this crazy idea and you’re heading to Australia?’ Her voice sounded small as they still refused to let go and she remained trapped.
‘Shouldn’t we at least try, Daisy? Isn’t it what Hugh would have wanted?’ Tom said.
‘Exactly,’ Daisy heard Lisa say.
‘Um, actually if anyone’s doing it, it’s me and James.’
‘Nah, you need all hands on deck,’ Lisa said and Tom murmured his agreement. ‘I mean who’s going to change beds and cook eggs.’
‘I’m not sure I want everyone here all the time plus guests.’ Daisy was growing ever hotter. ‘Can I get out of this hug? I mean this is craziness.’
‘No,’ Tom said. ‘Darling, you are staying there until you agree. At least give it a go, then we can always stop if it turns out badly and James—’ he delivered a fake sob ‘—could then go and tan his beautiful body on an Australian beach and discover he was gay, after all, but can’t afford the return journey home so he will never have me in his life…’ He stopped, genuinely caught up in his own fairy tale. James shifted uncomfortably.
‘And Lisa and I could go back to waitressing in the bistro, talking to the tweed brigade. And you, you could continue to do it is whatever you do.’
Silence descended on the huddle, Lisa included, and Daisy realised that, unbelievably, he was right. What did she have going on? She didn’t have children, she barely spoke to her mother and she didn’t work. Maybe Hugh had been offering her a lifeline, and maybe, annoyingly, the boring old sod was right.
No one had spoken since the end of Tom’s presidential speech; they were waiting on her.
She clutched the letter and held it to her lips. ‘Categorically no.’
Tom huffed. ‘Lisa and I will cook you guys dinner. I’m going to pick her up now anyway and let’s see if we can’t persuade you this evening.’ Tom gripped his phone. He hadn’t stopped smiling. ‘There is so much to talk about.’
Daisy felt uneasy as she watched Tom head back to his car. James, sensing this, squeezed her shoulder.
‘You OK?’
She nodded, forcing herself to smile.
He nodded and walked outside, leaving her alone in the hall as she caught sight of a silver-framed picture of herself, Hugh and James taken at an outdoor concert three years ago. Hugh and James hugged her close. Maybe that was why she hadn’t entirely written off the B&B idea in her head: James was the closest she could be to Hugh. The thought of him on the other side of the world had made her feel panicky, unsure. She couldn’t let go of any more of Hugh. Not yet.
Chapter 4
Daisy looked at each of them in turn over the rim of her glass and inhaled her wine. Tom had gone to town over supper. He had remembered that the B&B idea stemmed from a reality show set in France and so red, white and blue bunting fluttered across the ceiling, the table was laden with salami and casserole and some sort of terrine with actual animal hair poking out of it (rustic she had been told), beset on top of a paper red gingham tablecloth and, of course, there were carafes of red wine. It looked glorious and simply perfect. Her eyes flitted towards the ceiling and she was glad Hugh (who, to her mind, was now a permanent fixture of the ceiling or sky) could feel a part of it with the bunting. She discreetly held her glass up to him.
‘Salut, dear Hugh,’ she thought and fearing another onslaught of tears, said, ‘Gosh, it must be hot in here,’ and offered her glass to Tom for a refill. ‘Fill her up, please.’
She was trying to get drunk because she could see where the conversation was going; they wanted her to set up the B&B. But, she thought, what about her quiet, controlled world where she just about coped: what would happen to that? The thought alone of losing the tranquillity was awful and she snorted inadvertently into her glass, wine escaping in all directions.
James eyed her kindly. ‘You OK?’ he whispered from stage left, his voice barely perceptible above Tom’s booming laugh, and his hand briefly touched her own. ‘You know, it is your house, you can always say no.’
However, she might have known that nothing got past her friends and Tom stopped talking as both he and Lisa turned to her.
‘Oh, come on, obviously it’s your decision, but we’re sure you can do it. Of all people!’ Lisa pouted. ‘I can help out and quit my job, and Tom can quit his. There’s a reason they call us casual labour.’
‘I know but it’s so rash, so sudden…’ Daisy’s voice trailed off.
She studied Tom’s hazel eyes dancing with happiness, Lisa, who was positively glowing, and finally James, who had somehow in the last few hours lost some of the grey pallor that comes from months of heartache. Why couldn’t she be so positive?
‘I’m not saying no as such,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m just scared.’
‘Listen.’ Tom stood up, cleared his throat and pushed his chair backwards causing it to scrape loudly over the flagstones. ‘I’d like to propose a toast to Daisy for being such a gem and, I know she doesn’t feel it right now, but we only want what’s best for you.’ He looked at her. ‘This could be the making of you, of us.’ He puffed his chest out in an almost Napoleonic fashion and started to sing, quietly at first. Daisy could see his mind whirring as he adapted the lyrics and it took her only moments to figure out the song, her finger already tapping out the drumbeat.
‘Do you hear your friends sing? Singing the songs of… Atworth Manor?’ Then his smile grew wider as the next line fit into place. ‘It is the music of the Daisy crew who will laugh and smile again!’
Daisy grinned. They all knew Les Miserables was her favourite musical and Hugh had taken them all, everyone sat at her table tonight, to see it at the Bristol Hippodrome the Christmas before last, a month before Hugh died.
‘When the beating of your heart, echoes the beating of the manor, there is a life about to start!’ He lifted his hands. ‘Come on! Again!’ He ripped his second Hawaiian shirt of the day (this one even louder with a giant palm tree enveloping his back) open, shooting James a look of ‘look at me, I’m a god’ and held his wine glass way up high, the liquid sloshing over the side. ‘Let’s do it aga
in, people, and let out your inner campness!’
Lisa stood, her hand struck across her chest, followed by James and then Daisy, giggling, also rose to her feet. They swayed in time repeating each line Tom boomed at them as if they were in fact revolutionaries. Daisy’s giggles manifested itself in side-splitting laughter and within minutes she was swaying and drinking along. Daisy realised, for the first time in months, maybe years, she felt lighter and somehow different.
After a few minutes, Tom collapsed in a chair. ‘Christ almighty, I’m out of practice.’ He wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead. ‘But, you see compadres, we will win this. We will win back laughter!’
James did laugh. ‘You’ve got a very good voice.’
Tom looked at him. ‘Some say good voice when they mean fine body.’
Daisy punched Tom playfully on the arm. ‘No, I think he actually meant your voice.’
‘Daisy, darling, you read things so literally.’
Lisa poured out more generous glasses of wine. ‘It’ll be like being back at uni.’
‘But no Hugh,’ Daisy whispered.
James shifted next to her. She realised she must stop doing that: making others feel uncomfortable, like they were unwanted replacements. James was very much wanted and she glanced at him and smiled. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
Daisy felt eyes on her and looked up sharply. Lisa winked, and she flushed, guilt washing over her. Then seconds later, Tom was pushing catalogues on her.
‘What are these for?’
‘I picked them up earlier when I was in Cirencester.’
Daisy eyed them gingerly, not liking where this was going. ‘And…?’
‘And I think some of your rooms need a bit of a spruce up if we’re going to have guests staying.’ Tom drank deeply from his glass.
‘No, I haven’t said yes yet.’ She stood, her heart fluttering. ‘This is my house, this is the house I did up with Hugh, I’m not just going to redecorate and erase all that.’ She saw James nod briefly out the corner of her eye, perhaps even gesture to Tom to take it easy.
‘Daisy, darling, I am not trying to upset you. It’s just an idea. I know how much you love interior décor.’
Sunshine at Daisy's Guesthouse Page 3
