Sunshine at Daisy's Guesthouse

by Lottie Phillips

  ‘Of course,’ she said after a long pause. ‘That’s great. All booked in.’ She squiggled his name in the book but her hand was shaking so much, she could barely make out what she had put. It looked a lot like the word ‘sex’. She quickly slammed the book shut. Freud would have a field day with her.

  ‘Great.’ Alistair put his hand out to shake hers but then they both went in for a hug at the same time which resulted in tangled limbs and their lips being dangerously close to one another’s.

  Lisa bounded down the stairs, Barbara in her arms. As she caught sight of Daisy and Alistair performing some strange interpretative dance routine, she stopped suddenly.

  ‘Oh.’ She looked at them, looked at the ceiling and back at them. ‘Oh.’

  Daisy managed to disentangle herself. ‘Nothing to see here.’

  ‘Right.’ Alistair picked up his bag again. ‘Great stay. Thanks so much. I look forward to my next stay.’

  ‘Our pleasure. You are always welcome at my guesthouse. Always.’

  He turned on his heel and walked stiffly outside. It wasn’t until she saw him get in his car – a very smart sports car no less – that she dared breathe. It was only then that she realised how much she had failed to flirt. Why was she so unable to be sexy?

  ‘Lisa,’ she murmured eventually, glancing up the stairs at her friend who was stood, unmoving, a huge grin on her face. ‘Why am I so clumsy?’

  ‘Because you’re Daisy Ronaldson,’ Lisa offered, rather unhelpfully.

  ‘Great.’ Daisy looked in earnest at her friend. ‘Can you teach me to be sexy by Friday?’

  ‘Friday?’

  ‘Yes, Alistair wants to take me out to dinner and last time I went out to a restaurant I managed to flick my martini olive in Hugh’s business partner’s eye.’

  ‘You don’t even drink martinis.’

  ‘No,’ Daisy admitted. ‘That was my first mistake.’ She pulled a face. ‘Vile.’

  Lisa made her way down the stairs towards Daisy and took her face in her hands. ‘Daisy, you don’t need to change for anyone. Any man worth his weight in gold is one that thinks you’re beautiful for your clumsiness and lack of sexiness.’

  ‘Thanks, Lisa,’ Daisy narrowed her eyes, ‘I knew I could rely on you.’ She felt a familiar pang. ‘And that man was Hugh and Hugh is dead.’

  Lisa’s face fell. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.’

  ‘No, I know.’ Daisy nodded, brushing away tears. ‘It is true though, I move as gracefully as a new born gelding.’

  ‘You’re not that graceful, Daisy,’ Tom said, laughing behind her. Lisa shot him a look and Daisy stared hard at Lisa and Tom in turn.

  ‘So glad we had this conversation, friends.’

  ‘Come on.’ Lisa took Daisy’s hand. ‘Tom and I are going to give you a master class in embracing your sexiness.’

  Tom whooped with glee. ‘I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you, Daisy.’ Daisy allowed herself to be led up to the top floor where Lisa and Tom had decamped. She hadn’t been up here since they moved in and she was shocked to find that they really had made themselves at home. Clothes hung from every nook and cranny, empty wine bottles were strewn across the floor and the beds were unmade and fusty. It took her back twenty years to their university digs. Though she wondered, looking at her friends, was the environment conducive to dating? She couldn’t imagine Bob (and Barbara) relaxing up here with Lisa in her quite frankly stinky room.

  As if reading her mind, Lisa said, ‘We go to Bob’s room.’

  Daisy raised her brows.

  ‘You’re not my mother,’ Lisa pointed out.

  ‘No, but it is my house.’ She looked around her again at the bottles, the clothes, the mess. This is where she had thought she might make a children’s nursery. She had imagined blue or pink bunting along the walls, a white cot and her mother’s old wooden nursing chair. Then she looked at Lisa and Tom, their faces crestfallen at her ridiculous parental stance. ‘But,’ she smiled, ‘I actually like what you’ve done to the place. It’s very…’ She searched for the right word. ‘Deconstructed shabby chic…’

  They exchanged looks with each other and fell about laughing. Daisy gripped her stomach in a bid to stop but she had gone. She felt a wonderful lightness again, her mind taking her back to their university house. The way they had looked out for each other on drunken nights, over break-ups and, of course, somehow dragged each other through their exams by the skin of their teeth. Particularly, her French; the nights Tom and Lisa had stayed up with her pretending to be examiners and listening to her garble on in some language entirely unintelligible to not only the English, but the French too. She had basically invented her own lingo. Hadn’t that deserved some merit?

  ‘OK, you two,’ Daisy said. ‘Make me into a sex goddess.’

  ‘OK,’ Tom said excitedly. ‘I’ve been dying for this moment, darling. To get my smooth mitts on you.’ He eyed her now tea-stained black cleavage top. ‘Darling, that looks cheap.’

  ‘Tom,’ Lisa warned. ‘It does not. It’s sexy.’

  ‘Oh, sorry is cheap bad?’ Tom asked innocently. ‘Because I love cheap.’ He looked so apologetic. ‘Gosh, I really did think cheap was a compliment.’

  Lisa scowled at him but Daisy grinned. This was why she loved them.

  ‘OK, so where are you going for supper?’ Lisa asked, sitting Daisy on her unmade bed. ‘Location is very important for dress code.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Daisy shrugged. ‘He just mentioned it now as he was leaving.’

  ‘OK.’ Tom nodded seriously. ‘We need an in-betweener.’

  ‘A what?’ Daisy said.

  ‘An in-betweener.’ He looked at her like she had the IQ of a gnat. ‘An outfit that can see you through any occasion.’

  ‘Does that exist?’ Daisy wasn’t sure about that. ‘I mean a members’ club is a bit different to a local around here.’

  Lisa rummaged around under her bed and brought out a duffel bag. ‘This is where this beauty comes in. We put the basics on you and then wherever you end up, you restyle.’

  Daisy looked at them incredulously. ‘I can’t carry a sodding gym bag into a restaurant, go to the loo and come out a different person. I’m not Mrs Doubtfire.’

  ‘Darling,’ Tom said soothingly, ‘it’ll just be the essentials. You know things like a different pair of shoes, a pair of tights, a pashmina, jewellery, make-up…’ He raised a brow. ‘Knickers.’

  Daisy stared at him. ‘You know what, let’s chuck in the sink and the filing cabinet.’

  Tom shook his head. ‘No need to be silly now.’

  ‘Yoo-hoo!’ came a very familiar voice from downstairs. ‘Am I allowed to come up to the servants’ headquarters?’

  Annabelle.

  Daisy braced herself and manufactured a smile for the annoyingly trim blonde lightly tripping up the stairs, no hint of being at all out of breath. Daisy could barely climb one level without wishing she was a mountaineer.

  ‘Hello, you lovely people,’ she drawled through her nose. ‘So the brood are heading out on an adventure to a funfair.’ She pulled a face. ‘Can’t bear things like that. You know? Full of…’ Her voice trailed off.

  ‘Rides?’ Tom gave her.

  ‘No, you know…’

  ‘Music?’ That was Lisa.

  ‘No.’ She looked at them all like they were complete morons. ‘People.’

  Daisy snorted. ‘People?’

  ‘Yes, bloody people.’ She shook her head. ‘God.’ As if ridding herself of a bad dream, she visibly shuddered and then smiled. ‘So I’m going to Cirencester.’

  ‘Um, Cirencester has people too. It’s a market town,’ Daisy said.

  ‘Oh come on, it’s not people, it’s types.’

  ‘Types?’ Lisa said.

  ‘Yes, types. I do not like types.’

  ‘Don’t you think you are a type?’ Daisy enquired. ‘I mean surely we are all types.’

  Annabelle laughed. ‘God, no. I am not a type. I a
m me.’ She laughed loudly. ‘Bloody marvellous.’

  Daisy bit back her comment.

  ‘And James is downstairs. What a love, he’s making the troops sandwiches and ginger ale. I mean he’s just a delight, isn’t he?’ She looked pointedly at Daisy. ‘Then, this really is above and beyond, he’s taking me to Cirencester. I mean frankly he deserves a knighthood or something, you know? Such a gentleman.’

  Daisy thought about James in the kitchen preparing food for the masses then thought of him holding hands with Annabelle in some chic coffee shop. ‘He definitely deserves something,’ Daisy said drily. ‘A brain transplant for one.’

  ‘So what are you lovely two people and person—’ Annabelle looked at Daisy ‘—gossiping about up here?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Daisy started to say but as quickly Tom had blurted it out.

  ‘Oh, our Daisy has been asked on a date by that fine Scottish man.’

  Annabelle’s face twisted with resentment. ‘What, that Alistair chap? Gosh, those Scottish are very charitable, aren’t they?’

  ‘Meaning?’ Daisy spat out, her heart pumping harder and harder.

  ‘Oh just meaning what a nice gesture to take a widow out for dinner, I guess he doesn’t plan on paying for his room or something.’ She fell about at her own joke despite the tumbleweed silence from her audience. ‘Anyway lovely peeps… must dash, need to ensure Agamemnon hasn’t killed his sister yet. They’re fighting over who goes to the posher school.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve told them a million times before, they are both at equally good schools and does it really matter as long as you’re not having to mix with riffraff?’ Annabelle smiled at her now stunned audience but hadn’t registered the silence. ‘So you’re getting ready for a date, Daisy.’ She eyed the duffel bag in Daisy’s hand. ‘Are you going to a gym? Word of advice, only lose weight for a man if he gives you enough incentive. You know…’ And Daisy watched her desperately search for the right words. ‘You know, for example, when I met my husband he said that I was carrying an extfa pound or two and I said fine.’ She licked her lips. ‘I said fine, you want to play that game…’ She gestured to them like she was about to deliver a suffragette speech worthy of Millicent Fawcett. ‘I will lose some weight for you but only, and I mean this, if you buy me a Balenciaga bag for every month I’m with you and, on occasion, a Fendi too.’

  ‘Oh,’ Lisa eventually managed. ‘That’s very… um, noble of you.’

  ‘Yes,’ Annabelle agreed. ‘I thought so too.’ She waved at them and then bounced out of the room.

  Daisy looked at her retreating figure and turned to her friends, ‘Right, make me sexy. Make me invincible.’

  Chapter 12

  The days passed slowly but eventually Friday came and Project Daisy went into full action. She had been made to drink some strange green juice instead of meals for the last three days and had tried on so much spandex she feared her internal organs might have been crushed repeatedly. Tom and Lisa had insisted they visit actual shops and try actual dresses on which required Daisy, once again, getting up enough courage for those dreaded changing rooms. She had finally given into a pair of wide black trousers and a corset top that was definitely worthy of an 18-rating.

  ‘How do I make this subtle if we just end up in the local pub?’ she had asked incredulously.

  ‘Oh, darling.’ Tom had shaken his head. ‘This outfit is positively staid. I said you should have gone with the red bodycon dress.’

  Daisy looked at him in disbelief. ‘Two things, Tom, my body doesn’t do bodycon. That would be like happily stepping out of the house in cling film. And secondly, there is nothing staid about this.’ She indicated her bosom threatening to explode from the boned constraints of an Ann Summers corset. ‘This is meant for the bedroom,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Well, kill two birds with one stone, you won’t have to carry a bedroom outfit in your bag.’

  Daisy looked hard at him but it was pointless as Lisa rammed two cucumber slices over her eyes forcing her to close her eyelids fast before she lost her sight in a vegetable accident.

  ‘We need to depuff your eyes and I’ll put some of this lavender mask on your face to help get rid of your blotchiness.’

  ‘Good one, Lisa,’ Tom said as he rubbed fake tan into her legs.

  ‘God, I’m feeling so confident now, thanks to you both.’ She lifted the cucumber slices to find Lisa and Tom smiling broadly at her.

  ‘You are so welcome,’ Lisa squealed, hugging her tight, oblivious to Daisy’s sarcasm.

  It was 3 p.m. and Daisy couldn’t help but wonder if she had set herself up for a fall. She had barely exchanged a few words with the fly by night Scotsman, what if he didn’t turn up? He had no reason to. Just because she had written his name into the book, he wasn’t obliged to stay at her guesthouse. What if he turned up and no longer wanted to take her out for dinner and she was stood there dressed up to the nines in her toothpaste tube corset? She gasped aloud now, what if… What if he hadn’t invited her out to dinner at all? His Scottish accent was very strong, he might have been asking her for a good place to pick up some Cotswold produce…

  Her mind spun with the possibilities as she allowed Tom and Lisa to continue to manipulate her into a sex goddess. She was waxed, shaved, and tweezed into oblivion and then Lisa grabbed her make-up and they set to. Daisy didn’t want to ruin their fun but her heart hammered as she waited for the results. She thought of those women on live daytime television that asked for a makeover and had the big ‘reveal’ in front of the likes of Holly and Philip. She always tried to pick out the wobbly lip, the tears of disappointment but she hadn’t once yet seen anything of the sort. She was beginning to think if she was on the programme and Lisa and Tom were her makeover artists, as opposed to professionals, she may be the first guest to turn on the waterworks.

  Lisa had nipped downstairs to make cups of tea before the big reveal. Minutes later, she came bounding up the stairs like an excitable puppy.

  ‘He’s here,’ she squealed. ‘I’ve shown him to his room and he was asking if you’re around and I said that you were getting ready for your date tonight.’

  Daisy rose quickly from Lisa’s bed. ‘You said what? It’s not a date, it’s dinner, if it’s even that. It might not be happening.’ Daisy paced, mortified. ‘Poor man, oh God.’

  Lisa looked baffled. ‘What are you going on about?’

  ‘Well, what did he say now that you’ve confirmed how cheap I am?’

  Tom smiled. ‘Remember, cheap is good.’

  ‘He said he was glad and could I ask you if you could meet him in the drawing room at seven.’ Lisa narrowed her eyes. ‘So, there you go, Little Miss It Might Not be Happening.’

  Daisy’s heart thumped.

  ‘And,’ Lisa added conspiratorially, ‘he looks bloody fine. Oh my God, if I wasn’t taken…’

  ‘Why? Am I overdressed? Is he wearing a tuxedo?’ Daisy asked, panicking.

  ‘No, but he is wearing the most beautiful jacket and shirt. The man is beautiful.’

  Daisy blushed as excitement stirred in the pit of her stomach.

  ‘I’m nervous and excited,’ Daisy babbled, ‘and feeling guilty all at once.’

  ‘Don’t feel guilty,’ Tom said. ‘You are living your life. You are living the life you deserve to live.’

  ‘But I’m past it,’ Daisy moaned. ‘I’m as Annabelle described, “a widow”.’

  ‘A widow spider.’ Tom held his hands up. ‘Deadly sexy.’

  Lisa nodded. ‘It’s true, look at yourself.’ She had lugged over her full-length mirror.

  Daisy caught sight of herself, fully expecting to be horrified after hours of primping and preening. But, instead, she was taken aback by what an amazing job they had done with frumpy Daisy.

  ‘Wow,’ she gasped. ‘Is that really me?’

  They had dressed her in the aforementioned black trousers and a black corset top. Her hair had been swept back in a sophisticated chignon. Lisa had made her face glow with the most
incredible bronze on her cheeks and edible rose lips. Her arms and negligee looked smooth and iridescent.

  ‘You two should go into beauty…’

  They grinned and high-fived each other. Coming up behind her, they each put an arm around Daisy’s waist and looked at her in the mirror.

  ‘You’re a gorgeous woman, it’s not hard when the starting product is this great.’

  She blushed ever so slightly and felt tears spring to her eyes. It was moments like this that she cherished, just being with those people who understood her.

  Tom looked at his watch. ‘You need to go downstairs, my princess.’

  Lisa solemnly handed her the duffel bag and Daisy took it dutifully, trying to hide her dismay. Such a beautiful outfit shouldn’t be accompanied by an oversized sports bag… but then Lisa backed up towards the bed and brought out a beautiful black clutch with diamante detailing.

  ‘We bought you this,’ Lisa said. ‘Though it was fun to wind you up, we do want you to speak to us again.’

  Daisy took it from Lisa as if it were a Faberge egg. It was a thing of beauty, so feminine and classy.

  She felt the tears again and, unable to speak, they both gave her a big hug and sent her on her way down the stairs.

  ‘Remember,’ Tom said as she left the room, ‘it’s what Hugh would have wanted.’

  She nodded, excited and nervous for the night ahead.

  Chapter 13

  She headed downstairs, her heart beating loudly in her ears. It had been a long time since she had felt first date nerves. In fact, when she thought about it, she hadn’t felt them since meeting Hugh. Over twenty years. That was a long time and she was out of practice. As she rounded the stairs to go down to the entrance hall, she was momentarily taken aback and gasped inwardly. Alistair was dressed every bit as beautifully as Lisa had suggested. He looked up at her as she descended the stairs and smiled so gently she thought her heart might break.

  ‘My goodness, you look amazing.’ He smiled. ‘Beautiful.’