Suze hadn’t telephoned her mother, because Daisy had told her that she found the telephone confusing. Suze couldn’t really understand why, but for some reason Marigold was unable to recognize her voice or follow the conversation without seeing her. So, a few weeks had gone by without contact. And because Suze felt guilty, she had ignored her sister’s calls. She had shut them out and justified her actions by telling herself that she was very busy with her blog and the articles she was writing and being a wife (which, in reality, wasn’t at all different from being a girlfriend). Therefore, it didn’t really come as a surprise when Daisy turned up at the house without prior warning. ‘Let’s go and get a coffee,’ she suggested, and Suze couldn’t very well decline, seeing as she had been caught in a pair of slippers, holding a copy of Vogue magazine.
They took a table in the local café by the window. A pair of enormous seagulls squabbled over an ice-cream cone discarded on the pavement. ‘They’re the size of dogs,’ said Suze with a smile. She hoped that humour would crack her sister’s scowl. But it didn’t. Suze asked the waitress for a caffè latte then began to pick at the scarlet polish which was peeling off her thumbnail.
Daisy ordered an espresso. ‘Why haven’t you been to see Mum?’ she asked, looking at her sister steadily.
Suze flinched at her hard tone and reproachful stare. ‘I’ve been busy,’ she answered curtly, looking at Daisy with the same steady gaze, hoping to stare her down.
‘You’ve been ignoring my calls as well. No one’s too busy to take a call or to reply to a text. Certainly not you, Suze. You spend your life on the phone. What’s going on?’
‘Nothing,’ came the swift reply. But Suze knew her body language told a different story.
‘Mum and Dad are longing to tell you about their stay at the hotel. They loved it. It was the best present ever. Aren’t you even curious?’
Suze averted her gaze as the waitress returned with the coffees. She took the opportunity to gather her thoughts as the waitress placed the mugs in front of them. Turning her eyes to the window she noticed that the seagulls had flown away, leaving a large piece of cone. There was no such thing as a hungry seagull in this town.
Suze decided it was futile hiding her fears from Daisy. She’d prise them out of her in the end, one way or another. ‘I just can’t deal with this, Daisy,’ she said with a sigh.
‘With Mum’s illness?’
‘Apparently it’s not an illness.’
‘You’re splitting hairs, Suze.’
She sighed again and sipped her coffee, then looked at her sister with big, anxious eyes, now shining with tears. ‘I’m sorry. I just can’t cope with Mum’s decline.’
‘What do you mean, you can’t cope? This isn’t about you, Suze! Mum needs you. She needs all of us. You can’t just walk away because things get tough. Family look out for each other. Mum’s looked out for you all your life. Now it’s your turn to look out for her.’
‘I know. I hate myself for being scared. I’m such a loser.’
Daisy bit her tongue. It was so typical of Suze to play the self-pity card at this point in the argument. ‘You’re not a loser, Suze,’ she said with forced patience. ‘But you’re going to have to step up.’
‘You’re suggesting I’m selfish!’
And typical to put words into her mouth which Daisy hadn’t said.
‘Listen, can we just stop bringing this back to you. I’m scared too. We’re all scared. None of us wants to see Mum lose her memory, but we can’t desert her at the moment she needs us the most. What sort of people would we be if we abandoned the one person who has been there for us our whole lives, at the very time she needs us to be there for her?’
A tear trickled down Suze’s cheek. She brushed it away. ‘But dementia is awful. One day she won’t know who we are. She won’t remember. She’ll even forget how to breathe and then she’ll die.’ Suze clutched her throat. ‘I can’t bear to watch her suffer.’
Daisy’s chest grew tight and she fought tears of her own. ‘That’s a long way down the road, Suze,’ she said quietly. ‘Don’t think of that. Remember what Grandad used to say?’
‘He said many things. Which one in particular are you thinking of?’
‘What’s wrong with now?’
Suze bit her lip. ‘Everything’s wrong with now, Daisy. Our mother has dementia.’
‘You’re missing the point. Right now you and I are sitting in a nice café having coffee. The point is to live in the moment and not project into a future that hasn’t happened yet. Right now, Mum knows who you are. She’s perfectly normal, most of the time. Dad is home and missing you, and so is Nan, who is saltier than ever, so I need you too. Why don’t you pop in for tea? Say you’ve been busy looking after Batty. Nan will approve of that.’
Suze managed a small grin. ‘I think it’s more the other way round.’
‘I know that,’ said Daisy, grinning back. ‘In fact, we all know that, even Nan. But it sounds good.’
Suze sighed and Daisy knew she had got through to her. ‘All right,’ she conceded. ‘I’ll come over this afternoon.’
‘Good. Mum will be really pleased.’
‘Can we talk about something else now?’
‘Sure. Whatever you want.’
‘Have you made any progress with Taran?’
‘About the land?’
‘Yes, about that. And, have you kissed him yet?’ Suze’s grin grew wider.
‘He’s still in Toronto and I haven’t made any progress in either area, but I’m only working on one.’
‘The kissing one,’ said Suze.
‘No, the land one,’ Daisy replied with emphasis.
‘If I were you, I’d kill them both with one stone.’
That afternoon, as Marigold was sitting in the garden with Dennis and Nan, listening to the birdsong and watching the shadows lengthen across the lawn, Suze stepped through the back door with Daisy. Dennis smiled in delight. ‘Ah, Suze. We haven’t seen you in a while!’
Marigold, who couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her daughter, smiled too. ‘How lovely,’ she said.
‘I’ve been so busy looking after my husband,’ Suze declared.
Nan nodded her approval, just as Daisy said she would. ‘Husbands are a full-time job,’ said Nan. ‘The trouble is their mothers spoil them, so when they get married their girlfriends turn into their mothers and they sit back and expect everything to be done for them.’
‘I think that’s a little harsh,’ said Daisy, pulling up a garden chair.
‘Oh, it’s all very well modern women claiming that men share the housework, but the truth is, they don’t. They’re not made for the vacuum cleaner and the washing machine. It’s just not in their DNA and you can’t change thousands of years of habit. Your grandfather never learned how to put his plate in a dishwasher and I’m not wrong in saying that Dennis hasn’t either. If Atticus loads the dishwasher, I’ll eat my hat.’
‘I’d be careful making promises you can’t keep,’ said Dennis. ‘I think Batty is the sort of man who knows how to make himself useful around the house.’
Suze sat next to her mother. ‘How are you, Mum?’ she asked, trying not to notice the small changes in Marigold’s appearance. There wasn’t anything major. Certainly nothing that anyone who didn’t know her would notice. But to Suze, the slightly dreamy look on her mother’s face was new and alarming.
‘Very well, dear,’ Marigold replied, smiling vaguely.
‘How was the hotel?’
There was a long pause while Marigold tried to work out what Suze had asked her. Something about a hotel, but which hotel?
Dennis intervened. He had become used to compensating for Marigold’s lapses in memory now and his interruptions were fast becoming habit. ‘We went to that lovely hotel by the sea, didn’t we, Goldie? The one with the blue-and-white decoration that you loved so much.’ Marigold narrowed her eyes a little, which betrayed the fact that their weekend away had been swallowed into the fo
g, but her smile tried to fool them all that she remembered. ‘We went for walks up and down the beach, and out for supper. The wine was very good and the service was excellent. Really, you two,’ he said to Daisy and Suze, ‘it was the best present ever. It really was.’
‘Yes, it was very sweet of you,’ Marigold agreed. She was getting good at dissembling when she didn’t remember something.
Dennis turned to Suze. ‘So tell us, Suze. How is married life? How is Batty—’
‘Atticus,’ Nan cut in firmly. ‘You can’t call a respectable married man a silly nickname like that, even if Suze has tattooed it onto her shoulder!’
Marigold sat up with a start. ‘You have a tattoo, Suze?’ she gasped.
Suze glanced at Daisy in panic. Hadn’t they already had this conversation?
‘Yes, Mum, she got it done before the wedding,’ said Daisy.
‘I told her she can’t divorce him now his name is tattooed onto her shoulder,’ Nan added. ‘You might regret that, Suze. You’ll never find another man called Batty.’
Daisy caught Suze’s eye and grinned. Really, with their grandmother repeating everything and their mother forgetting everything, they were turning into a right old comedy act. Perhaps the only way to deal with the situation was to see the funny side of it.
Daisy shook her head and laughed. Suze was only too ready to release her angst in the same way and laughed with her. Dennis looked at them both and chuckled. ‘What’s so funny, girls?’
‘Nan’s repeating everything,’ said Daisy, glancing at Nan and hoping not to offend her.
‘Am I?’ she asked incredulously. ‘I’m sure I’m not.’
Daisy nodded. ‘I’m afraid you are. And Mum’s forgetting everything,’ she added bravely, taking her mother’s hand and smiling at her lovingly.
Marigold smiled back, reassured by the gentle look in her daughter’s eyes. ‘I suppose it is funny, isn’t it,’ she said quietly.
Nan lifted her chin. ‘Well, we are getting older, aren’t we? So you shouldn’t be surprised.’
They all began to laugh, even Nan, albeit a little grudgingly.
‘What was it Grandad used to say?’ said Suze.
‘What’s wrong with now,’ said Marigold promptly, and everyone turned to look at her in surprise. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever forget that,’ she added. Then she swept her eyes over them with gratitude. ‘There’s nothing wrong with now, is there?’
Chapter 23
Daisy sat on the bench at the edge of the wood and looked out over the fields. It was a warm afternoon in late August. Feathery clouds lingered unmoving in the sky and a glider wheeled silently beneath them, like a graceful bird on the wing. Mordy the Labrador lay at her feet panting while the two spaniels darted about the wheat in pursuit of the pheasants and rabbits that took refuge there.
Her mind turned to Luca. His texts were becoming more frequent and more needy. He was missing her and wondering whether they couldn’t reach some sort of compromise that suited them both. How about we get a dog? he had written. A dog? Daisy had laughed at that, because it was too ridiculous to take seriously. But every time she thought of Luca, Taran interrupted her thoughts, striding into her mind with his long legs and big personality, stealing her attention.
Yet Taran was not a good bet. He lived in Toronto. He was clearly a man who avoided commitment. The fact that he was planning to sell the farm to developers and build houses in the field right next door to her parents’ home made a romantic relationship between the two of them impossible. She would not want to be with a man who allowed that to happen, a man who put money before people’s welfare. She didn’t imagine Sir Owen had left his beloved farm to his son just so that he could sell it off to the highest bidder. And what about Lady Sherwood? Where would she go once he’d sold it? Didn’t Taran have any consideration for her?
Even Daisy could see that she was repeating a pattern. Why couldn’t she fall in love with a man who lived close by and loved the countryside like she did? Yet, the heart didn’t allow for choice. It went where it went and it didn’t listen to reason. Her brain could override it, of course, and right now that’s what it was trying desperately to do. She could never leave her home now that her mother was unwell. Her mother was her priority; her need was greater than Daisy’s. She’d been away for six years and as a result there was no doubt in her mind where her home was; she wasn’t going to live anywhere else but here.
Mordy lifted his head off his paws and pricked his ears. Daisy imagined he had seen a rabbit and looked in the direction of his gaze. To her surprise she saw a man approaching up the farm track. She recognized his gait at once. It was Taran.
Her spirits lifted with a jolt of excitement. She stood up as Mordy raced down the track to meet him, followed by Archie and Bendico who shot out of the wheat like bullets. The three dogs circled him, tails wagging fiercely, and he bent down to pat them. He was smiling when he reached her, looking casual in a navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans. He was unshaven and his hair was curling at the collar. His eyes were very green against his tanned skin. Daisy felt awkward suddenly and lost for words. It was hard to imagine that he had ever attempted to kiss her. Hard to imagine that she had ever been in a position to rebuff him.
‘Hi, Daisy,’ he said, bending down to plant a bristly kiss on her cheek. He looked at her intensely. ‘You look well.’
‘Have you just got here?’ she asked, wishing she had applied some make-up and washed her hair. Instead, she wore her hair in a ponytail and her face was as God had intended it.
Hands on hips he took a deep breath through his nostrils and swept his eyes over the fields. ‘Just got here. It’s good to be home.’ He turned back to her and grinned. ‘I hope I didn’t disturb you.’
‘Not at all.’
‘This isn’t a bench for one,’ he added, sitting down beside her.
‘Your father wouldn’t have agreed with that,’ she said.
‘It’s not his bench now.’ He rested his arm along the back, behind Daisy. ‘It’s mine and I prefer to have company.’
‘Your dogs are happy to see you.’
‘They know who’s the boss now. They never noticed me much when Dad was alive.’
‘I’ve grown very fond of them, especially Mordy. He lies on the sofa in the barn and watches me draw.’
‘How’s that going? Did you finish Rupert?’
She laughed. ‘Rupert is finished and I’ve started drawing Basil.’
He shook his head. ‘Basil! What’s that? A terrier?’
‘You got it,’ she replied.
‘Typical.’ He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and turned his head to look at her seriously. ‘Thanks again for being there for Mum. You’re a godsend.’
‘I’m glad I’ve been helpful. I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose someone you’ve lived with for so long. The hole your father has left must be enormous. I just want to make her feel less alone.’
‘You do that very well. She says she wouldn’t have got through these past months without you. She says you’re very wise. Deep and wise were her words, if I remember rightly.’
‘You should spend more time here, Taran,’ she suggested boldly. ‘You’re her only child. I can’t replace you.’
He sat back and swept his fingers through his hair. ‘You’re making me feel guilty.’
‘Good,’ she replied. ‘Someone has to.’
He chuckled. ‘You’re the voice of my conscience, Daisy Fane.’
‘There’s nothing like family when things go pear-shaped.’
‘Speaking of family,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘How’s yours?’
Daisy wasn’t intending to share her heartbreak with him, but it just slipped out. ‘Mum’s got dementia,’ she said.
Taran looked at her with surprise and compassion. ‘God, I’m sorry, Daisy,’ he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. ‘That’s really tough.’
‘It is,’ she agreed, fighting the now
familiar feeling of impending loss.
‘When did you find out?’
‘It’s been gradual. Ever since I came back from Italy she’s been getting increasingly forgetful and vague.’
‘Has there been a diagnosis?’
‘Sort of, but there’s nothing anyone can do. We just have to support her as much as we can, until . . .’ Her throat tightened.
‘Until?’ he asked gently.
‘Until we can’t support her anymore.’
He nodded, understanding. ‘Does she know?’
‘Yes, she’s aware, for the moment. I suppose there will come a time when she ceases to be aware. That will go too, along with everything else. It’s a cruel disease. Except that it’s not a disease apparently.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know what it is.’ She noticed the tenderness in the way he was looking at her, and she found herself looking back at him in puzzlement, surprised that the man she condemned as arrogant and materialistic could feel such empathy and show it. ‘You know what she loves more than anything else?’ she said, hoping that she was going to discover that he had a generous spirit as well. ‘Her garden. Her greatest joy is feeding the birds and looking out over your fields.’
He smiled reflectively. ‘I’m glad they give her pleasure,’ he said.
‘As her world gets smaller, those things will be the only things that give her pleasure. She won’t go into the shop now. Tasha has come good and proved that she can be reliable after all. Perhaps because Mum wasn’t very good at sharing the responsibility, Tasha didn’t feel she had any. Now she’s needed, she’s committed.’ Daisy smiled wryly. ‘Mum’s like that, or she was. Doing everything for everyone so that no one could do anything for themselves.’ She was thinking of Suze and Nan, of course, but as she spoke she realized that her father was used to being waited on as well. They’d all have to learn to look after themselves.
Daisy wanted Taran’s reassurance that those fields her mother loved would always be there for her, but she didn’t know how to bring the conversation around to that. She didn’t want to admit that she had eavesdropped on his telephone conversation. Taran had never discussed his inheritance with her. Neither had Lady Sherwood. She’d only heard bits of gossip from Eileen. As far as he was concerned, she had no idea what his plans were. The only thing she could do was emphasize how much she loved the farm and hope that she could infect him with her enthusiasm. ‘Do you miss home when you’re in Canada?’ she asked.
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