She managed to get to the bottom of the stairs without tripping up and for a fleeting moment she felt as if she was in her own Hollywood movie. Then just as she reached the bottom stair her shoe caught in one leg of the wide black trousers and she landed face first at Alistair’s feet.
‘Oh, Daisy, are you OK?’ He was kneeling down now and looking into her eyes with such compassion, it only served to make her feel even more foolish. This would be a romantic story if he was in this position because he was proposing or because together they were saving an injured animal. But no, she had fallen at the last fence and now needed to get up and save face. She begrudgingly took his extended hand and rather ungracefully got to her feet.
She caught his searching gaze. ‘Are you OK? You took quite a tumble there.’
‘Yes, fine, right as rain.’ She smiled despite the throbbing in her right ankle. ‘That was me playing it cool, didn’t want to come over too keen.’ She flashed a wry smile.
‘You did very well,’ he offered kindly. ‘I’ve booked us a table at the local pub.’
‘Lovely,’ she said, and meant it. She wasn’t over or under-dressed. Once again, her fabulous friends had been right.
‘Table’s booked for eight but I thought we could all have drinks first.’
Daisy was just about to ask who all were but then she thought she must have imagined it. Why would a man turn up on her doorstep at 2 a.m., stay in her house and then ask her out to dinner if there were more than the two of them involved? No, she said to herself, with a small shake of her head, she must have imagined it.
They walked out to his car, a Maserati no less, and he opened the passenger door for her. It was a windy night, but luckily no rain or she really might have started to look like something the cat had dragged in. She stepped into the car with as much grace as she could muster, clutch in one hand and her now billowing trousers clenched in her other. She realised she still felt nervous but put it down to the length of time she had been away from the dating-scene. But then Daisy being Daisy, her mind went into overdrive.
What if it wasn’t a date and she had got herself all dolled up for some sort of lost in translation business meeting? Maybe he was interested in buying a share in her guesthouse? What was she talking about? Shares. She didn’t even know what a share was. No matter how many times Hugh had explained to her that it was the way in which a company’s capital was distributed, she couldn’t help but feeling it sounded a bit childish. She imagined men in suits sitting around a table, projector overhead, musing about their ‘shares’. But in her imagination the screen showed sweets or a chocolate cake cut into pieces. In fact, she was pretty sure that the business world liked to think they were very important but surely even with a company that sold pharmaceutical products, it didn’t get much more complicated than playing shop at nursery? That was the one thing Hugh and Daisy had argued about. Her inability to take the business world and money seriously and, in the end, she had decided to just keep her thoughts to herself. Hugh felt he was changing the world one penny at a time, and that was fine.
They drove to the pub in silence. Her mind was whirring with conversational topics but none of them seemed right as a way to break the silence with such an incredibly dashing man. If he turned around now and told her that he not only was the CEO of one of those ‘big companies’ but also a model for Burberry underwear, well frankly she wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. By the pale light of the car’s dashboard, Daisy admired his chiselled jawline and impeccably shaped nose. How could a nose be impeccably shaped, she thought incredulously.
Eventually the car stopped in a pub car park and Daisy tore her eyes away from his profile in order to read the pub sign. It said The Randy Duck which ordinarily would have been her cue for uproarious laughter and Tom’s worryingly realistic impersonation of a highly-sexed bird. But, now, all she felt was doom.
‘Are you OK?’ Alistair asked. ‘I’ll come around and open your door.’
She nodded, mute.
The thing is The Randy Duck was not just a pub, nor was it a one-Michelin-star pub. It was a three-Michelin-star pub. Ordinarily, she would have been super excited at the prospect of a tasting menu as long as her leg but, but – and this was a huge but…
She had been barred from this pub only two Christmases ago.
She ashamedly didn’t want to admit it wasn’t even when she was a young whippersnapper with not a clue about common courtesies and etiquette. It had been a festive drinks party. She may or may not have had one too many mulled wines before deciding she was the world’s sexiest pole dancer (the pole was a medieval pillar) and the absolutely beautiful Christmas garland above the fireplace was her feather boa. In the space of what was apparently fifteen minutes, though it had felt much shorter to Daisy, she managed to drag the garland down and across the tables, tea lights setting fire to her ‘boa’ as she went and the vicar’s wife who was trying to, it turned out, stamp out the blaze taking hold of the foliage, was mistaken by Daisy as a woman wanting to join in and soon Daisy was gyrating up against Glenda to the banging tune of ‘Ding Dong Merrily on High’.
These images flashed back through her memory and it was only with the cool rush of air around her ankles as Alistair opened her door that she realised how utterly mortifying the whole situation was.
There was only one thing for it. She would have to pretend she was someone else. Surely anyone who had seen her in the last year or so would think of her as the woman who owned a big house but dressed like she had just finished mucking out the horses? Even though she didn’t even own a horse. Yes, she thought with renewed relief, she could survive this. Was she Mrs Ronaldson? No. She was Miss Esmerelda from the south of Gloucestershire, thank you very much for asking.
As they entered the first set of doors to the pub, they were stuck in that strange limbo land she liked to think was called ‘the landlord’s test’. Daisy had decided years ago that if the visitor could make it through both doors without injury or making a complete fool of themselves, then they probably weren’t completely inebriated and could be allowed in.
Alistair looked at her now with such intensity she had forgotten what it was like to have a man undress her with his eyes.
‘You know, you really are beautiful.’ His lips came towards hers and she gave her now very dry mouth from nerves a quick swish of saliva.
She closed her eyes, ready and then felt his lips land on her cheek. Her cheek? She snapped her eyes open, entirely mortified. She glanced at his bemused look and as he pulled open the second door, she rather hesitantly stepped inside.
A gathering – actually there were about twenty people, which Daisy classed as a crowd – turned around and on seeing Alistair shouted, ‘Alistair! Happy birthday!’
Daisy fixed an extraordinarily big grin to her face even though her mind was taking some moments to compute. Men and women alike flocked to Alistair to give him a hug or kiss on his cheek. Daisy found herself being shoved this way and that, not one person, as yet, having introduced themselves. But then, why should they? She didn’t know who they were so why should they care who she was? Or maybe (here went the mind again) she wasn’t there and it was all a dream?
A man who could have been Alistair’s twin brother playfully punched her on the arm as if to reassure her she was actually there, in The Randy Duck surrounded by strangers.
‘Hello,’ he said warmly. ‘You must be Ali’s love. We’ve heard so much about you and been dying to meet you.’ He extended his hand. ‘I’m Rabi, his twin brother.’
‘Um, lovely to meet you,’ she murmured. ‘I’m Daisy.’ Was she meant to be Daisy? Maybe Alistair had named her Susannah or something foreign. ‘How long have you known about me then?’ she dared to ask.
‘Only a week or so, the dog,’ Rabi said in hushed tones. ‘But he says you’ve been living together for months and reading between the lines…’ He started humming ‘Chapel of Love’.
‘Oh,’ Daisy tried not to look too taken aback but was actually despe
rate to turn around and throttle the man stood behind her – her ‘boyfriend’.
And she would have if she hadn’t made eye contact with the pub manager William. Their eyes locked and she knew, just knew, that Esmerelda was a no-go. Even with the makeover, he had her sussed. William moved from behind the bar and made a beeline for her.
‘Mrs Ronaldson,’ he started. ‘I’m afraid that…’
Alistair came up at this point and said, ‘Have you met my girlfriend?’ Alistair clamped his arm around her waist and for a split second she genuinely didn’t know who she was anymore.
She looked angrily at Alistair and then weighed it up in her mind. Better that William, for now, thought she was someone else. She transformed her angry stare to one of pure joy.
‘Darling’ she purred. ‘Would you get me a drink?’
‘Your usual?’ Alistair said confidently, not batting an eyelid.
‘Yes, you know me so well. Never change.’ She smiled sweetly at Alistair, though inside her stomach churning with anger.
She watched him saunter off to the bar and she very much got the impression that Alistair was not only enjoying himself but may have actually convinced himself they were a couple.
Now, alone with William, she turned to him, her eyes challenging.
‘Well,’ he eventually stammered, ‘I hope you have a lovely evening, Miss…?’
‘My name is Esmerelda Cartwright but you can call me Esmerelda.’ She held out her hand, desperately stifling the laughter threatening to bubble up inside her.
He took her hand and they exchanged a fleeting look where she could tell he was momentarily wavering but she charmed him back with a sexy smile and he said, ‘Enjoy your party, Miss Cartwright.’
‘Thank you.’ William left her to it as she watched her ‘boyfriend’ approach with a glass of fizz in hand.
She took it and through gritted teeth, said, ‘What the hell is going on here?’
He looked at her in a dreamy way, but then clearly her hard stare made him get a grip on reality. ‘Well, you see, it’s a long story but basically…’ She just watched him, incredulous. ‘I come from the Edinburgh Set.’
‘The Edinburgh Set?’ she repeated.
He nodded, took a sip of fizz. ‘Yes, a bit like in these counties, you know they are the families who have grown up with one another, done pony club together, been to each other’s christenings, weddings and funerals.’ He was on a roll now and Daisy watched him barely catch a breath. ‘They hunt and ski… and every other sport that requires a certain amount of money… you know?’ He barely registered her nod. ‘I’ve never really fit in. My brother—’ he gestured at the throng of people ‘—he fits in just fine. Me? I’ve always felt like a fish out of water.’ Alistair pinched his blazer. ‘These are just clothes, they just make you look like you belong, but I don’t feel like I belong. Do you understand that?’
Daisy nodded. She had spent the first years of her life with cattle and the odd school friend who had been coerced into ‘a fun day of milking cows and feeding lambs’ (often never to be seen again) but had ended up living in a manor house which frankly she could never have afforded the entrance fee to once upon a time. So, yes, she understood.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I get it. Totally get it, but this is ridiculous.’ She clenched her jaw. ‘In fact, I’m going to tell everyone what a complete liar you are.’ She turned away from him, only to come face to face with another of his friends.
‘Oh, you two lovebirds. Ali, you are a sly horse.’ A woman with extraordinarily pearly big teeth grinned at her. She put her long arm around Daisy. Her equally long legs never stopped shuffling for longer than a nanosecond. Daisy decided she looked like an overexcited filly waiting to exit the gates at Aintree.
‘Hello Samantha.’ Alistair came over all shy. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine, my darling,’ Samantha replied, a very slight Scottish accent coming through. ‘But you kept this one quiet.’
‘Well, you know me…’ Alistair grinned, looking almost hopeful. ‘Full of surprises.’
Samantha turned to Daisy. ‘I’ve known Ali since we were like practically in the womb.’ She guffawed, flicking her perfectly straight (and long, of course) brunette hair to the other side before flicking it right back to the original side. ‘People always said we would get married but, here he is, still unmarried and seeing you, sweetie.’ As if seeing Daisy for the first time, Samantha appraised Daisy. ‘I mean we really couldn’t be more different, could we? I’m thin, you’re…’ Daisy held her breath. ‘Curvy and quiet.’
‘Um, I think you’ll find you have no idea…’ The woman didn’t even know her. Anyway, Daisy thought, anyone would be quiet around Samantha, because it was futile trying to get a word in edgeways.
‘How long have you known each other?’ Samantha interrupted.
Daisy went to answer, ‘Only a wee—’
‘Aye,’ Alistair interrupted. ‘A wee while. It was just love at first sight.’
‘And where did you meet?’ Samantha raised an overly groomed (and if possible, long) eyebrow.
‘He turned up at my door—’.
‘At her Dordogne villa,’ Alistair said. ‘Daisy has a whole portfolio of property, don’t you, darling?’
Daisy was speechless, completely and utterly speechless. Alistair was on a roll. She almost didn’t want to stop him. What else could he come up with?
‘And your main residence?’ Samantha clicked her hand at some poor unsuspecting waitress who had been given the job of refilling.
‘Gloucestershire, just up the road.’ Samantha barely nodded her acknowledgement at the teenage waitress. Daisy thanked the girl. ‘It was my husband—’
Alistair dived in again. ‘It was your love of husbandry that brought you to the idyllic Cotswolds, wasn’t it, darling Daisy?’ The man was now visibly sweating, his upper lip and forehead glistening.
‘Oh lovely,’ Samantha purred. ‘Crops or animals?’
‘Um…’ Daisy stopped. This was her moment to completely drop Alistair in the cowpat but she met his gaze and seeing acute desperation and loneliness, she decided to help him out.
‘Crops,’ she said with assured confidence. She thought about the herb trays on the kitchen sill and her prized tomato plants in the summer; enough to feed two people on the Atkins diet. She had never understood how anyone became self-sufficient. She had always thought she could live off the land as long as she could reach a Waitrose by car.
‘Marvellous. Been a hard winter, hasn’t it? Roger was saying the delayed spring has played havoc on crops.’
Daisy thought about the parsley and chives on her kitchen windowsill; she supposed the chives were yellowing ever so slightly. ‘Yes, very tough.’
Samantha gave them an affectionate group hug, though frankly her long arms could have accommodated many more. ‘Well, you two are adorable.’
With that, she lolloped off and Alistair turned to Daisy. ‘Thank you. I mean really, thank you.’
His eyes filled with such sincerity, Daisy was taken aback. Her anger started to dissipate and she saw a very lonely, confused man stood in front of her.
‘I’ve been asked to make a speech…’ He paused. ‘Do you mind? I don’t have to…’
Daisy couldn’t believe what she was about to do. ‘No, go ahead.’
Alistair flashed her a sincere smile and took a cocktail stirrer off the side of the bar and tapped the side of the glass. A sea of eyes turned to face him, still chattering but the odd person let out a whoop and Samantha told them all to quiet down.
Alistair looked desperately unsure of himself. ‘Thanks so much guys for coming today… I know it was all a bit short notice…’
‘You’re telling me, I only got the invite yesterday!’ A petite redhead at the back heckled, causing a ripple of laughter and murmurs of agreement.
‘I know, I know…’ Alistair put his hands up in mock surrender. ‘It’s just I didn’t know when Daisy and I’d be back in the area and
I know you lot have never left the sweet surroundings of Cirencester.’
‘Once an Agricultural University student, that’s it. You stay, forever.’ This man, who Daisy put at Alistair’s age, then winked at Rabi. ‘Just you wait, you won’t be going back to Scotland, trust me.’
‘We can’t both do that to Father,’ Rabi joked back, patting Alistair on the arm. ‘He’ll have a heart attack. Mother’s never forgiven Alistair for moving down the road to Glasgow, let alone a different country!’
Daisy watched Alistair look over at Samantha, momentarily sorrowful. Samantha, however, grinned back, seemingly unaware of some much deeper conflict he was fighting.
‘Yeah, so, thank you for coming tonight at such short notice but I also just want to say a few words about my dear Daisy.’
Daisy stood watching him, deep in thought. Her mind had gone back to a day over twenty years ago, when Hugh had been making a similar speech to their family and friends. It made her eyes water as she remembered, a lump building in her throat.
‘Aw, look, she’s getting tearful,’ someone whispered at the front.
‘My dear Daisy, we haven’t known each other for very long…’ She glanced at him through a haze of tears. There was the understatement of the century. ‘But the happiness you have brought to me during the past…’ He fished for the next word. She almost said ‘few days’ but stayed quiet. ‘…the past while, has been amazing. You are very special and I think it’s pretty obvious to anyone here today why I’ve had to fight other men off!’
There were a few murmurs of agreement which Daisy drunk up the remainder of her champagne, then chose to ignore the same redhead who had hollered earlier and now turned to her friend and said in a stage whisper, ‘She doesn’t look his type, to be honest. Too matronly.’
Daisy shot her a look. I’ll give you matronly, Daisy thought, before telling herself not to worry, the redhead was jealous because she looked no older than a schoolchild.
Filled with a sudden confidence, she stepped towards Alistair and kissed him on the lips. No one looked more surprised than he did but then even more alarmingly Alistair responded with his tongue. Daisy quickly withdrew and gathered herself as his friends wolf-whistled and applauded.
Sunshine at Daisy's Guesthouse Page 12
