‘Well, it’s not natural.’
‘What?’
‘Being gay.’
Daisy rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. ‘I’m not going through this again. It’s as natural as being a heterosexual.’
‘Daisy,’ her mother warned.
‘No, I’m sick of hearing your incredibly ignorant views on my friends, Mother.’ Irritation swelled insider her. ‘Or my now dead husband. Dad was never this closed-minded, so what happened to you?’
Her mother’s mouth twitched and she knew she had hurt her. She hadn’t meant to get so personal but she was fed up of being pushed.
Then, unbelievably, Daisy saw a tear roll down her mother’s cheek, under her sunglasses and towards her now non-scowling, but trembling, lips.
‘Oh, Mum.’ Daisy winced with guilt. ‘I am sorry.’ She went to hug her mother, who ordinarily stiffened like a plywood board, but much to her amazement crumpled against Daisy’s frame. Daisy clung to her tightly and stroked her hair, disbelieving that this was the same woman who moments ago had looked as stony as the small Cupid fountain off to her left.
‘Mum, has something happened?’ Daisy looked at her, and then gently pushed her mother’s sunglasses up onto her head, revealing red-rimmed, puffy eyes.
‘The farm, I have to sell the farm.’ Her mother broke down in floods of tears and Daisy stood back, shocked.
‘What do you mean you have to sell the farm?’
‘We’ve been doing badly for years.’ She sighed. ‘Well, it’s been doing badly since your father died, really. I just never wanted to admit to myself or anyone.’
‘Oh God, Mum.’ She shook her head. ‘Why didn’t you tell me and Hugh, we could have helped you out?’
‘Because I’ve got pride, Daisy.’
‘And you know what they say, pride comes before a fall.’ Daisy heard herself and realised the mother-daughter roles had reversed.
‘Well, I’ve had it valued and actually as the farm is running at a loss, it is easier to declare bankruptcy.’
‘Oh, Mum, I’m sure there must be a way.’
Her mother sighed. ‘In a way, I guess I’m relieved because I’m tired.’
Daisy understood this. Working the farm was a job that demanded attention every hour of every day. This was why she had had no social life until she went to university – because she spent all waking minutes helping her parents on the farm.
‘What’s that?’ Her eagle-eyed mother had caught sight of the Live Well Clinic folder in her hands. ‘Is that where you’ve been?’ She looked up quickly. ‘You’re not ill, are you? You’re as stubborn as me then when it comes to big secrets.’
‘No,’ she assured her mother. ‘I am not ill. Quite the opposite, in fact.’ She took her mother around the shoulders and said, ‘Let’s go inside for a cup of tea and I’ll explain.’
Five minutes later, with two steaming cups of tea in front of her, Daisy announced, ‘I’m having Hugh’s baby. Or, at least, that’s the plan.’
Her mother howled with something resembling hysteria and disbelief. Then she stilled. ‘Daisy, I know you’ve not taken it very well but he’s gone.’ Her mother pursed her lips. ‘He’s not coming back.’
Daisy realised she hadn’t broached the subject in the best manner possible. She showed her mother the certificate and Hugh’s letter.
‘You can’t seriously be thinking about doing this.’ She took an indignant slurp of her tea.
‘Yes, why not?’
‘Because then you’ll be a single mother to a dead man’s child.’
Daisy’s eyes widened. ‘Sheesh, don’t hold back, Mum. Would hate for you to not get your message across.’ She stood. ‘Why do you do this? I’m in my forties, for God’s sake, you can’t dictate to me for the rest of your life.’
‘So you trooped across to London with your groupies and signed up to have a dead man’s baby.’
‘Shit, Mum.’ Daisy sobbed. ‘Just go away. I felt for you when you told me the farm has gone bankrupt, but you’ve done it again; you’ve managed to make me feel worthless. You know, I think it’s best you just go home.’
Her mother didn’t move, her hands gripping her mug until her knuckles whitened. ‘I always wanted a grandchild.’
Daisy looked at her. ‘What did you just say?’
Her mother put down her mug. ‘I said that I always wanted a grandchild. I was suspicious when Hugh refused to get himself checked out.’
‘Really?’ Daisy sat again. ‘I never even thought about it, I just became so involved in the marriage and the house, I guess I didn’t allow myself to think about anything like that.’
‘I’ve always thought you’d be a good mother,’ she said quietly.
‘You have? Mum, don’t want to alarm you but you may have just paid me a compliment.’
Her mother smiled softly. ‘Imagine that, Daisy, maybe I’m not such a horrid old woman after all.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I know I haven’t always been openly supportive of you…’
‘That’s one way of putting it.’
‘I think when Dad died, I just withdrew into myself. It’s only since the farm has been declared bankrupt that I’ve realised how tired I am of pretending that I’m coping.’ She wiped a tear from her cheek and swallowed hard. ‘I never got over Dad’s death. When Hugh died, it brought back all the same emotions again, and I know I said things to you that I shouldn’t have said about your marriage, but I couldn’t stand to see you hurting the way you did.’ She sipped her tea. ‘I knew that feeling of grief all too well.’
‘So why didn’t you say something or hug me or anything….’
‘Because I was trying to keep a lid on it all.’
Daisy took her mother’s free hand and massaged it between her own. ‘Well, I want to try and have a child. In a way, I think I am allowing Hugh to live on.’
‘You can’t think like that.’ Her mother shook her head. ‘Because if the IVF doesn’t work you may take it even more badly.’
‘Yes, true but above all I’m doing it because I want to be a mother. This might be my only chance.’
Her mother sniffed. ‘Then, you must do it. You have my support.’
‘Mum, come and stay here with us, you can’t be alone at a time like this.’
‘Oh, I don’t know if you want an old lady hanging around all you young folk…’
Daisy laughed. ‘We’ve got a combined age of a million and we’d love you to help with the day-to-day accounting. You’re good with figures.’
‘Clearly not that good, I let the farm go bust.’ She pulled a face.
‘That’s not down to your accounting, that’s down to farming being one of the most competitive and hardest industries.’
‘Anyway,’ her mother said, ‘don’t you have that James fella looking after your books?’
She thought of James’s face as she had left his London apartment on Saturday night. ‘No, I think he’s found himself someone else.’
‘Someone else?’ Her mother arched a brow.
‘Hmm?’ Daisy had lost herself in a world of reverie.
‘You just said “someone else”.’
‘No, I didn’t.’ Daisy grew defensive.
‘Yes, you did.’ Her mother was not one to miss a trick.
‘Oh, well, I meant to say something else.’
‘Daisy Ronaldson, I think you’re not being entirely honest with me.’ She put down her tea and took her daughter’s hands in her own. ‘Come on, tell me about this James fella… tell me what he’s gone and done.’
For the first time in forty years, Daisy cried on her mother’s shoulder and told her everything.
Chapter 19
Tom insisted on moving Daisy’s mother, with the help of the Dream Team, into the guesthouse. Daisy didn’t want to warn him off because he would take it the wrong way but waited back at the house for news of the next civil war.
Nursing a cup of chamomile tea (part of her new cleansing diet readying her body for motherhood), sh
e tried to forget that she was drinking herbs and no caffeine. She stood ready by the door and phone to help ease relations should it be necessary. Only two hours later, she watched Tom’s car chug up the drive followed by the Dream Team’s van.
Daisy held her breath as Tom climbed out and then nearly choked on her herbal concoction when he rounded the car to open the door for her mother, who got out laughing and looking freer than she had in years.
‘Well, this world is not short of miracles,’ she muttered to herself, before she put her mug down and went to see if she could help with any unloading.
‘Oh, Daisy, Tom has had me in stitches.’ Her mother grinned. ‘Honestly, I was dreading the move as you know but he has made me feel so much better about it all.’
Daisy turned her back on her mother and mouthed to Tom ‘thank you’ who looked tickled pink at the compliment.
The Dream Team, once again half-dressed and not an ounce of fat between them, started to unload the van of boxes, and the odd familiar Seventies-style lamp she had grown up with. It had been agreed that her mother would stay in the annex at the bottom of the garden because the number of spare rooms in the guesthouse was ironically dwindling due to the more permanent arrivals. Plus, her mother would appreciate the space having lived on her own for years.
‘Honestly, this is so lovely of you, Daisy,’ her mother started, her eyes glassing over with tears. ‘I really mean that.’
Daisy’s heart swelled. ‘Mum.’ She hugged her close.
Daisy led her to the annex where she had made the bed up in crisp white linen and filled vases with her mother’s favourite flowers: peonies. She had even lit a cinnamon smelling candle.
‘Oh my,’ her mother said. ‘I’m not sure I can sleep in here… it’s too clean, too white.’
‘Oh.’ Daisy’s face fell. ‘I thought…’
‘No, I mean it’s amazing, I’m not sure I deserve such luxury.’
Daisy looked at it and didn’t see luxury, just a nice atmosphere and surely every woman deserved that? She realised now that her mother had really scrimped and saved living in the farmhouse and probably, when she had married Hugh, it had only served to emphasise how tough her own lifestyle was.
‘Mum, you deserve this and more, and you deserve to be happy and not worry.’
‘I’m seventy-five,’ she said. ‘I thought I’d spend the rest of my life talking to cattle and eating soup for one.’
Tom bounced in with a fraying Ottoman covered in a rust-coloured velour – oh, the memories came flooding back – and placed it next to other boxes. Daisy remembered she had pretended that Ottoman had been her horse and carriage to take her to the ball or she had imagined that she owned a medal-winning horse… She smiled broadly at her mother. ‘I am so glad you’re here. This feels so right.’
That night, Tom cooked all the guests, who were now friends and family, a huge pan of paella with large, fresh prawns and a beautiful velvety Tiramisu for after.
‘Tom,’ her mother said, her face glowing with happiness and wine, ‘you are full of surprises. What a fine chef you are!’
Tom grinned. ‘Thank you.’ Alvin squeezed his hand.
The only thing missing for Daisy was a glass of wine but she sipped her water, telling herself it was all in the name of motherhood.
Over supper, they devised a plan and timetable for Daisy’s IVF as she would have to go to London every three to four days to check all was developing as it should. They were all determined to help and although Daisy sort of wished she could go through the process in private, she did appreciate her friends and family rallying around.
‘I mean I suppose it would be easier to stay in London, Daisy,’ said her mother. ‘Can you think of anyone you could stay with?’
‘Well, I mean I would have stayed at James’s, but he’s got Annabelle staying there and…’ She paused. ‘It’s all too awkward now.’
‘You could just text him and find out.’
‘No,’ said Daisy firmly. ‘I will not look desperate.’
‘OK,’ Tom agreed. ‘You don’t have to, I will. I’m very good at looking desperate.’ Before Daisy could argue, he already had his phone out and read his message aloud as he typed. ‘Hey Sexy…’
Daisy rolled her eyes.
‘How’s life? How’s your divine body?’ he continued and Daisy felt her mother shift uncomfortably next to her. He looked up and on seeing Jenny’s disapproving face, blushed. ‘Sorry… but he is a beauty.’
‘Have you got a spare room by any chance?’ He held his phone up and dramatically pressed SEND. ‘There, he’ll think he’s in with a chance with me…’ Tom winked as Daisy winced.
Seconds later, Tom’s phone beeped.
‘See, I told you he wants me badly.’ He grinned at his audience. ‘I’ve already explained to Alvin that James is as straight as a ruler.’ Then opening the message, he read aloud: ‘“Hey Tom, nice to hear from you.”’ Tom winked. ‘You see, he loves me…’ Tom kept reading. ‘Of course, come and stay. No, Annabelle and I have gone away for a bit so flat is all yours. Daisy has a key. Any news?’
Tom’s fingers flew over his phone. ‘I’ll say, no news except Daisy trying to get a bun in the oven.’
‘Tom!’ Daisy shrieked in horror, grabbing the phone. ‘Don’t you dare…’
Then she saw he had only been pretending to write.
Tom laughed. ‘I wouldn’t do that. I’ll just say that Daisy and I fancied some time in London.’ He smiled at Alvin. ‘Which I would.’
Alvin lived in Bethnal Green.
He took the phone back and sent the message, Daisy checking he was true to his word.
‘Gone on holiday with Annabelle, huh.’ She smiled, tried to pretend her guts weren’t churning at the very thought. ‘Well, there you go, sounds as if that’ll be the next wedding…’
Silence fell over the table as they searched for some comforting words. Finally Lisa spoke, ‘Well, you can do so much better than him, anyway. I mean what does it say about a man who gets involved with one of our guests?’
Bob just looked at her and realising what she said, she flushed. ‘Oh, you know what I mean…’
They burst into uncontrollable laughter and spent the remainder of the evening debating whether they could set up a guesthouse that specialised in matchmaking.
Chapter 20
Daisy and Tom spent the next three weeks in James’s apartment and managed to make themselves very much at home. Daisy visited the clinic every three days to have her hormone levels checked and have ultrasound scans of her ovaries taken. She spent her days reading books on parenting and generally scaring herself senseless whilst supping chamomile and trying to perform some sort of mindfulness yoga. According to the glowing, skinny woman with a small bump, it was bending herself in various directions and drinking herbal tea that meant she got pregnant. Daisy thought she made it sound like Immaculate Conception but she was willing to try anything (except give up chocolate). She wondered how on earth a small human being could bring such chaos to one person’s life but she knew she wanted that chaos. She did however have a near heart attack when she tried to figure out car seats and child safety locks.
Her mother, probably wisely, suggested she didn’t do the research and spend every waking hour in Mothercare but Daisy couldn’t help it. She was now addicted to the notion of motherhood.
Today was the day the clinic was due to plant the embryos; she was simultaneously excited and sick with nerves. She had been awake since 3 a.m. praying that they would take and she could start a new chapter in her life. She felt as if Hugh would become a part of her life again.
She rose early, looking around James’s room; her safe haven for the last few weeks. His love of art was apparent; every inch of wall space was taken up with black and white photography, modern acrylics and even some practice sketches by artists. The furniture had clean, modern lines and Daisy adored lying in bed in the morning, a gentle shaft of light from the sun filtering through the slats in the shutter
. This morning, she lay back and smiled happily. She knew, of course, that her age wasn’t on her side, that the whole process could fail and she didn’t know how many times she could put herself through the emotional rollercoaster of IVF but, at least, there was a glimmer of hope when once she had entirely given up on the thought of children.
She caught sight of her alarm clock. It was 6.30 a.m. She rose and made herself a pot of decaffeinated tea. Daisy didn’t know if it was just her imagination but did the tea taste like fish? She Googled it on her favourite expecting mothers’ site, Mothers’ World, and discovered, no, it wasn’t just her, Susienumber3ontheway and NauseousZoe agreed with her. A thread on IVF caught her eye in which SingleAgainTara wanted to know if it was right to bring a child into the world knowing there was no father figure around. She had put that humdinger of a question out there at 3.30 a.m.; no doubt, she was suffering the same insomnia and worries as Daisy. NauseousZoe, who appeared to comment on every thread all day and all night, suggested it was immoral. Daisy immediately took a dislike to NauseousZoe (even if they did agree about the tea) but then MotherEarth72 said that it was fine because every child was a blessing and who needed men anyway? Daisy nodded as she slurped her cod-tasting brew.
‘Quite right,’ she muttered aloud.
She was in the middle of reading women’s thoughts on the length of men’s parts correlating with the size of the baby at birth when Tom walked into the kitchen in his cropped denim shorts and a tight white vest.
‘Good thing you’ve got a good body,’ Daisy said. ‘Otherwise that would be enough to send my fish tea up the wrong way.’
Tom grinned and pushed his bottom out. ‘Just like Kylie.’
‘Only the hairy version,’ Daisy mused.
‘You ready for today?’ He sat and nursed a glass of water.
‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’
He nodded. ‘Well, look, you’ve got this far… you’re doing well.’
At the sound of a key in the door, Daisy nearly dropped her mug, and slammed the top of her computer down on the raging debate about men’s genitalia.
Sunshine at Daisy's Guesthouse Page 18
