Chapter 9
Daisy had entirely forgotten that Easter Sunday fell early this year. On one hand, since Hugh’s death she was painfully aware of time and, on the other, days like this appeared to spring out of nowhere.
She had just made a cup of coffee and was staring out the study window, trying to hang onto the clarity of Hugh’s face in her mind. It was often said that with time, grief grew easier but was it just because the starkness of memories and feelings grew blurred? Maybe, Daisy decided, as she stared into the middle distance, her feet up on the windowsill, that was how the human race survived. It was the mind’s ability to forget the bad, focus on the good. She couldn’t pretend to herself that her marriage had been perfect. This revelation had only occurred her to recently. For months she had told everyone that her marriage had been flawless, full of love, but there had been tension, particularly about not having children. It now compounded the emptiness – it was one thing when you still had a partner but then to lose that and have no children; she did feel very alone.
She screwed her eyes shut and tried to put the whirl of negativity to bed. There was no point thinking like this. She reopened her eyes and closed them quickly again, thinking she must be dreaming. But then Daisy stared out the window once more.
Annabelle was skipping around the garden dressed in a bonnet and a ridiculously clingy silk dressing gown. Daisy looked briefly at her coffee and frowned; she hadn’t put whisky in there, had she? She looked up again. No, Annabelle was definitely dressed as a raunchy shepherdess and then out of nowhere children appeared with rabbit ears on their heads or fluffy sheep tails attached to their bottoms.
‘Bloody hell,’ she muttered to herself.
Then she watched James walk over to them and Annabelle guffawed loudly at whatever it was he said. Daisy gave her a hard stare. That woman was incorrigible and now, much to Daisy’s horror, Annabelle readjusted her dressing gown so her cleavage had a better vantage point and her waist looked unrealistically small: Daisy decided she must look into surgery – a gastric band.
Tearing her gaze away from the pastoral scene being played out on her lawn, she realised then that it was Easter Sunday. Normally she would have made a huge Easter lunch and begrudgingly invited her mother. Because which daughter doesn’t love their mother gracing her table with comments about dry chicken and poncey gravy?
As if walking further into the surreal dream that was her life, she thought she heard her mother’s voice at the bottom of the stairs. Possibly talking to James. She crept out of the study and peered carefully over the bannister and yes, indeed, her mother was stood there in her finest which basically meant her cleanest cords and an aubergine-coloured mohair jumper she had had since the Seventies.
Her mother looked up the stairs at that exact moment.
‘Hello, Daisy, it’s a good thing you’ve got Tom here who remembered to invite me for Easter lunch.’
Daisy shot Tom a look who was now pretending to hang himself behind her mother’s back, mouthing ‘sorry’.
‘Well, to be honest, what with everything I didn’t even remember it was Easter.’
Her mother’s mouth tightened. ‘So therefore you’ve forgotten that it was at Easter your father left me.’
Tom nodded sympathetically now that her mother’s attention was entirely focused on him. ‘Where did he go?’ Tom asked.
A pregnant pause filled the room and then, ‘He died, Tom. Died.’
‘Oh.’ Tom reddened. ‘Sorry.’
‘I would say that it’s a bit late for sorry all these years later.’
Tom looked at the floor.
‘Good God mother, he was only trying to be nice.’
Her mother’s face momentarily softened. ‘Yes, he is very nice unlike my daughter who forgets to invite her own mother to lunch.’
‘I didn’t do it on purpose!’ Daisy righted herself. ‘I didn’t even remember.’
‘Um, Daisy?’ Annabelle was suddenly there too.
Daisy leaned over the bannister. ‘Yes?’ She forced a smile.
‘I’m organising a chocolate egg hunt as you can see.’ Annabelle showed off her entourage of bunnies and sheep. ‘Do you want to join in?’
‘Um…’ The truth was she’d prefer to be roasting a chicken so it became inedible and putting poncey Waitrose gravy in the microwave. ‘I really must help with lunch.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Tom proffered, ‘I’ve got it under control. You go and have fun.’
Daisy rolled her eyes to herself. Fun. Genius.
‘Thanks, Tom,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘How good of you to be so organised. What would you like me to do, Annabelle?’
Annabelle grinned and whipped a paper bag from under the hall console table, skipped up the stairs and pushed it towards Daisy.
‘Shall we see you outside in ten?’
Daisy dared not look and started to make excuses when she caught Hermione’s gaze. The poor girl looked so miserable as her mother once again took over proceedings.
‘OK,’ Daisy said and smiled at Hermione. It broke her heart to think any child was sad but under her roof she wouldn’t allow that to happen: no matter what extraordinary get-up was inside the bag.
A mere five minutes later, Daisy had managed to jiggle herself into a full adult-size bunny outfit.
‘Don’t think the playboy mansion will be adopting that costume any time soon,’ Lisa laughed as she walked past.
‘Thanks, Lisa.’ She indicated the zipper. ‘Can you help?’ Daisy caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. ‘Christ, I look like an oversized, fluffy marshmallow.’
‘Sexy, my friend. That is what I call sexy.’ Lisa patted her firmly on the arm. ‘You’re a sport.’
Daisy looked glum. ‘It’s actually because I feel bad for calling Annabelle a dog on heat and I feel for her daughter.’
Lisa giggled. ‘Yes, I heard about that.’
‘How’s Bob?’
Lisa smiled coyly. ‘Fine. He’s the same as before…’
‘Only a tiny bit in love with our English rose?’
‘Maybe.’ She blushed. ‘He’s talking about marriage…’
Daisy squealed and the oversized rabbit grabbed her friend and hugged her. ‘That’s crazy but amazing! And you? What do you want?’
Before Lisa could answer, a certain petite blonde had jogged up the stairs and beamed at Daisy.
‘Oh, you are a darling rabbit.’
‘Thanks,’ Daisy said drily.
‘You ready?’
Daisy nodded and followed Annabelle through the sitting room and towards the French doors. It wasn’t until Annabelle had pushed the door open that she realised Annabelle hadn’t just been talking about the Holibobs crew. Her garden was slowly filling with a herd of locals. They waved at her cheerily as they made their way through the side gate and in the direction of a table of jellies and meringues.
‘Um,’ she said, ‘what’s going on?’
‘Well, I went to church this morning and met quite a few of the locals on the way. Good God,’ Annabelle drawled nasally. ‘They do have the most extraordinary accent around here.’
‘It’s just the Gloucestershire accent.’
‘Yes, but they don’t pronounce all the syllables.’ Annabelle shook her head in disbelief and ploughed on, ‘So I said they should all come here, bring their children for a bit of Easter fun.’
‘The food?’ Daisy stood bewildered, rooted to the spot.
‘Oh, I got the husband to go to Waitrose and Tom got a table from your barn.’
Daisy took a deep breath. Bunting adorned the trees in pastels and she could just make out Tom running around hiding chocolate eggs.
‘Right, you ready?’ Annabelle beamed, no apology on the horizon, Daisy noted. She clearly thought it was quite normal to take over someone’s house without permission.
She saw her mother standing awkwardly in the middle of the amassing crowd.
‘So what am I actually doing?’
�
�Well, I’ll introduce you as the Easter Bunny and then all you need to do is hop around the garden and get the children to look all over for the eggs.’
‘What are you doing in the meantime?’ Daisy quizzed.
‘Oh, I’ve got bubbly arriving for the adults.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘But you can’t have any until you’ve done your duties so don’t give me those puppy dog eyes, sweetie.’ She laughed.
Daisy stared at her, tongue-tied, irritation fizzling in the pit of her stomach. She started to turn on her heel. No way was she making a fool of herself like that, not whilst Annabelle quaffed Prosecco. But Annabelle had already launched herself outside onto the terrace and boomed at the sea of tweed, gardening and mucking out clothes.
‘Good morning everyone!’ she hollered. ‘So the egg hunt is about to begin, my friends, and I would like to introduce the Easter bunny.’ Annabelle looked back over her shoulder and shot Daisy a look.
Daisy caught James’s eye and wanted the ground to swallow her up. How on earth did she go from being the lady of a beautiful guesthouse to a sober-as-a-judge rabbit?
Daisy stepped outside hoping the rabbit’s neck and head disguised her. She knew it was wishful thinking, confirmed by the laughter and Mr Smith from the farm up the road shouting in his broad local accent, ‘Wahey. Here comes Mrs Ronaldson. Doesn’t she look like a playboy bunny?’
A titter of laughter rippled across the crowd.
‘Lots of farmers here,’ Nigel from the post office joined in. ‘Make sure you don’t get shot, Daisy love!’
Daisy looked back at James who smiled at her kindly and then Annabelle trotted over to him with a glass of something bubbly and he took it graciously, turning his back on Daisy and laughing seemingly uproariously at one of her jokes.
Daisy jutted out her jaw. She wished the farmers would take a pop at a certain blonde.
‘Come on then, bunny rabbit.’ Annabelle smiled at her. ‘We’re waiting.’
Daisy took a step forward, then another, sweat trickling down her back from both embarrassment and the sheer weight of the ridiculous costume.
‘Jump,’ Annabelle hooted. ‘You’re a rabbit!’
‘Actually I’m not,’ Daisy pointed out and James smiled at this.
‘Yes, but,’ Annabelle hissed, ‘you are for now. I’m not stupid you know, I know you’re not actually a rabbit.’ She nodded seriously.
Annabelle told all the children – about twenty faces – to start hunting and the rabbit would come and help. They scattered like marbles across a table. Annabelle looked at Daisy.
Daisy took one tentative hop. She knew it was small and barely recognisable as a skip – it looked more like she had a stone in her shoe.
‘That’s not hopping.’ Annabelle came over. ‘Like this.’ She squatted and rocketed herself into the air before landing back in a crouched position. Daisy had to admit she made a good rabbit.
‘See?’ Annabelle smiled. ‘God, I tell you what, that yoga and Pilates plus Javier has done wonders for my core.’ She looked pointedly at James. ‘I have a strong core, James.’
Daisy frowned. Could rabbits go to prison, she wondered, for murder. Then as the adults now swilling fizz waited for her to push off once again, she squatted, wishing she had used that gym membership after all. She counted to three in her head and pushed herself off leaping about half the height of Annabelle but, she thought, she hadn’t been given much of a chance to practise.
‘That’ll do,’ Annabelle said, gesturing for her to continue.
Daisy rolled her eyes and jumped again sending everyone into a round of applause. By the time she reached the first child of about eight years old, she was completely out of puff.
‘Have you found an egg?’ she breathed heavily, wiping her brow with a paw.
She recognised him as one of the Holibobs.
‘No, I bloody haven’t. You are a rubbish Easter bunny, did you even hide any chocolate?’
Daisy looked hard at him. ‘How old are you?’
‘Nine.’
‘Do you think it’s okay to swear and to talk to me like that?’
The boy laughed hysterically. ‘Brilliant.’ He called over to Annabelle. ‘Mum, the Easter bunny has got a chip on her shoulder. She’s getting narky.’
Annabelle luckily hadn’t heard, as she was too busy flirting with James who was smiling broadly. Daisy turned back to the child.
‘You afraid of anything?’
‘What do you mean?’ The boy eyed her. ‘You mean like spiders and ghosts and stuff?’
Daisy nodded.
‘Well, I mean I’m not afraid of anything but I hate ghosts.’
Daisy grew serious, dropping her voice to stern whisper. ‘That’s a shame. You know the house has a family of ghosts. I speak to them and they respect me. There’s a little boy about your age, actually. He can’t bear rudeness and if he hears people being rude to me. He gets very protective…’ She left a long pause. ‘Anyway, enjoy the hunt.’ Smiling, Daisy jumped off, more bounce in her action this time, the boy’s mouth agog.
Daisy eventually started to enjoy herself. Most of the children – most – were actually nice and sweet, reinforcing her own pang of regret at not having had her own. One little girl she recognised from a house in the village, all of age six, whipped out an iPhone and asked for a selfie with Daisy. Daisy obliged; it would probably be her first and last chance for any sort of fame. Just as she was showing off her tail to three children, she turned to find James stood in front of her. The children behind were squeezing her tail and then one got a bit carried away with his hitting and whacked her on her actual bottom.
‘Ow!’ Daisy squealed and she looked back at them. ‘Rabbits do have feelings, you know?’
‘Sorry,’ the boy said, abashed.
She turned back to James and grinned. ‘I’m pretty sure there’ll be complaints. I’ve disciplined most of them…’ She spotted Annabelle’s son just then. ‘…And scared one of them half to death.’
James laughed. ‘You actually suit it.’
Daisy narrowed her eyes. ‘What, my fat suit? Is that because you actually can’t notice that much difference? Fat and unshaven?’
James snorted. ‘If Hugh could see you now.’
Daisy grew serious, reality hitting home. ‘Why do you always do that? Why did you bring his name up?’
‘Oh, sorry.’ James looked at the ground. ‘I didn’t know you…’
‘Every time I start enjoying myself, start to feel like my old self, someone brings up Hugh’s name and it makes me feel…’ She trailed off. ‘It makes me feel…’ She wanted to say guilty but what was she guilty of? ‘It makes me feel sad.’
‘Sorry,’ James mumbled again. He looked quite thrown and Daisy regretted her words.
‘No, it’s fine. We must keep talking about him, we need to keep him alive, don’t we?’ Her voice sounded strained and she kept a smile plastered on her face. But then she caught sight of Bob and Lisa kissing under the big oak tree and her heart felt wrung out.
‘OK,’ Tom shouted, withdrawing his head from the inside of a shrub. ‘The last egg has officially been found! Well done kids, and a big well done to our Easter bunny.’
Daisy dipped her head modestly as everyone whooped and wolf-whistled. She caught Annabelle’s eye and smiled but Annabelle was looking grave, her eyes on James.
Tom indicated to James that glasses needed refilling and James set off to help. Daisy, still floundering and wondering why she felt so strange about the mention of Hugh, didn’t notice Annabelle approach.
Annabelle, she noticed, had drunk a few glasses and her cheeks were flushed. ‘Must be hard,’ she said.
‘Hard?’ Daisy asked.
‘Being with all these children when you haven’t had your own.’
Daisy’s heart started to hammer, her head buzzing. ‘Not at all.’
‘That’s not what I heard,’ Annabelle said, looking her straight in the eyes. ‘James says you and Hugh couldn’t have children. So
ironic really that everyone’s hunting for eggs. Symbolic, yes?’
Daisy shook, her body tingling with tension and as the tears slid down her face, she allowed the sob building in her chest to escape. James looked over from where he was pouring the vicar another glass, his face filled with concern.
‘Annabelle, I’d like you to leave. I’d like you and your family to leave.’
Annabelle gave her a wry smile. ‘Oh, come on, Daisy it was just a little joke.’
‘Joke?’ Daisy spluttered. ‘Just get out of my house…’
‘And what would your business partners say about that? Look at what fun they’re having and we’re paying a lot of money to stay here this week.’ She paused. ‘A lot of money. You can ask James, I offered triple.’ She smiled. ‘We love your house and the people in it.’ She searched for James and catching his eye, smiled, fluttering her hand like the Queen. And I am just overjoyed that we managed to put your comments about me looking like a dog behind us.’
Chapter 10
That night Daisy tossed and turned, the sheets twisting in a sweaty mess around her. Images of Annabelle and James flitted through her mind as well as slow-motion videos of Hugh in Amsterdam; he was looking for her but he couldn’t see her, she was right in front of him, screaming in his face but he looked straight through her.
At 2 a.m. she came to very quickly, sat bolt upright, her heart pounding; it was beating so loudly she could still hear it. She concentrated on her breathing.
‘Daisy, don’t be ridiculous, he’s dead. Hugh is dead.’ She wiped away a solitary tear and nestled back under the sheets but there was her heart again. How could she still hear it? Now wide awake, she got up and realised it was someone knocking at the front door. No one else had stirred so she slipped on her dressing gown and crept down the stairs. Maybe one of the guests had locked themselves out but just to be on the safe side she grabbed an umbrella from the stand. The person at the door cast shadows across the hall floor.
‘Who’s there?’ she called out, debating whether or not to get James or Tom. No, she decided, she didn’t want to look weak in front of James and she had already seen the way Tom handled burglars. When they house shared many moons ago, a man in a balaclava broke into their digs and had Lisa’s wallet and Daisy’s computer. Tom who had drunkenly fallen asleep at the kitchen table woke up and thought it was one of his friends and invited him in for a night cap but on realising his friend wouldn’t speak, screamed like a girl and started chucking scatter cushions at the intruder. Daisy had risen to find Tom blaspheming at the man for stepping all over his polyester zebra rug. The intruder, perhaps shell-shocked, realised it wasn’t worth burgling a crazy students’ house and dropped the wares, fleeing out the door. Daisy rang the police and Lisa slept through the entire event.
Sunshine at Daisy's Guesthouse Page 9
