Nan laughed. ‘There’s not a single weed left, Marigold. You’ve taken them all out, as well as a few good plants besides.’
‘I’m sure you’ll find one or two more, Mum. You’ve got a good eye,’ said Suze, upset by her grandmother’s impatient tone. ‘And you’re still feeding the birds, I see, even though it’s early autumn.’
Marigold smiled happily. ‘I like to watch them come into the garden,’ she said.
‘You used to have a friendly robin, didn’t you, Mum? Is he still here?’
Marigold nodded. ‘He’s still here,’ she said. ‘I feed him, even though it’s autumn.’
‘She’s getting very repetitive,’ said Nan to Suze, as if Marigold wasn’t there.
Suze was incensed. ‘If I remember rightly, Nan, you’re quite repetitive yourself.’
‘We’re all getting older. It’ll happen to you one day, you know. Nothing good about getting old!’ said Nan.
‘Old age is not for sissies,’ said Marigold with a grin.
‘That’s my line,’ said Nan.
Suze laughed. ‘I’d better be going. I’ve got a party tonight and I need to get ready. I need to straighten my hair.’
‘You should let it dry naturally. It’s much softer when it’s wavy,’ said Nan.
‘We could buy you some straightening tongs for your birthday,’ said Marigold.
‘That would be lovely,’ said Suze.
Nan clicked her tongue. ‘You bought her a pair the Christmas before last, remember?’
‘That’s okay. Why should Mum remember that?’
‘It’s only with you that I forget things,’ said Marigold to her mother, affronted. ‘With everyone else, I have no trouble at all.’
Suze didn’t want to tell her that that was because Nan was the only person who corrected her when her memory failed.
‘Where are you going, Suze?’ Marigold asked.
‘The party’s in town. A thirtieth birthday party at a restaurant in the harbour. It’ll be very glamorous.’
‘Then you’d better go upstairs and have a bath.’
‘She doesn’t live here anymore, Marigold,’ said Nan brusquely.
‘I’ve found a flat, Mum,’ Suze told her, as if for the first time. ‘I’m moving in with Batty. We’re going to live together.’
Marigold leaned towards Suze, smiling like a child with a secret. ‘Don’t tell Nan,’ she whispered. ‘She doesn’t approve of people living in sin.’
‘Good Lord!’ said Nan, standing up. ‘I’m going to watch the telly.’
‘You see,’ said Marigold, as her mother left the room. ‘She’s doesn’t approve of you living in sin.’
Suze’s smile faltered, but she remembered what Daisy had told her, that she shouldn’t try to correct her when she got things wrong. She took her hand. ‘But you approve, don’t you, Mum?’
‘I just want you to be happy,’ said Marigold, her eyes full of love.
‘And I just want you to be happy too,’ said Suze, and she turned away so that her mother did not see her tears.
Chapter 25
By the end of September Daisy had finished drawing the jigsaw puzzle. All that was required now was for her to paint it. She had almost three months in which to do it, if they wanted to give it to Marigold at Christmas, which was plenty of time.
As well as including the funny and more often eccentric anecdotes from the village, Daisy had incorporated items from Marigold’s family life, bordering the entire picture with the birds and flowers she loved so much. She had drawn in Dennis’s shed, Suze’s mobile phone, Nan’s crosswords and her own box of paints. Dennis had given her things from their marriage that were important, like a photograph of the church where they got married, the name of the hotel where they went on honeymoon and the cuckoo clock he had given her after a holiday in the Swiss mountains. Daisy included Mac, of course, and the cats that had lived before. The result was going to be a wonderful kaleidoscope of shape and colour, designed especially for her.
Daisy was in the barn preparing her paints when Nan came in. Daisy was surprised to see her, as she’d never been up to the Sherwoods’ house before. ‘Hi, Nan,’ she said. ‘Is everything all right?’ She glanced at her phone to check that it was switched on. If there had been a problem with her mother, they would surely have called her.
‘Everything’s fine, Daisy.’ Nan ran her eyes around the room. ‘Well, this is grand,’ she said. ‘No wonder you get so much done. It’s a sanctuary.’
‘I know. I’m lucky,’ Daisy agreed. She noticed Nan was carrying a book. ‘Did you walk up here?’
‘No, Dennis brought me in the car.’
‘Oh.’ She couldn’t imagine what she’d come up for.
Nan wandered across the room. She looked at the puzzle laid out on the table. ‘It’s going to be very special,’ she said and Daisy noticed her face tighten.
‘Everyone’s taken part. It’s fantastic,’ said Daisy. Everyone’s taken part except for you.
Nan offered her the book. ‘This is an album of your mother growing up. It’s been gathering dust for years. No one looks at albums anymore. Everything’s on their computers. Such a shame. We went to great trouble putting these books together and now no one bothers to look at them. I thought you might like to cast your eye over the pictures. You might find something relevant, for your puzzle.’
‘That’s a great idea, Nan,’ said Daisy excitedly. ‘Let’s sit down together and you can show them to me. I may not know who everyone is.’
‘Well, you’ll know Patrick. He might be older but he still looks the same. And Grandad, of course.’ They went to the sofa and sat down. Nan opened the album across their knees and put on her glasses. ‘Now, here she is, as a baby,’ said Nan. ‘She wasn’t a very pretty baby, was she!’
‘She was adorable,’ Daisy argued.
‘She liked that bear. It had bells in its ears. It was called Honey. Why don’t you put Honey in somewhere. She wouldn’t go anywhere without Honey in those days.’ She turned the page. ‘Now, you can see how besotted Grandad was with Marigold. She was his little girl. Always was. He was harder on Patrick. Men are always harder on their sons, I think. Patrick was my boy.’ She sighed. ‘Until he went to live in Australia. You can’t get further away than that. They don’t even share the same time, being always a day ahead.’
‘He went off to make his own way in the world,’ said Daisy pensively.
‘He could have done that in England.’
‘He wanted adventure, I suspect.’
‘No, he just wanted Lucille.’
Daisy laughed. ‘I agree that Australia is quite a dramatic distance from home. It would have been nicer for you if he’d stayed closer. Europe wouldn’t have been too bad.’
‘No, he had to choose the furthest point. When Grandad died, I was left with just Marigold.’
‘Who has looked after you very well. I doubt Patrick would have done anything. He’s much too into himself.’
Nan considered that a moment. Then she turned the page. ‘Yes, I think you’re right. Marigold has been a saint putting up with me all these years.’
‘She’s a good person,’ Daisy agreed.
‘A better person that me,’ said Nan.
Daisy settled her eyes onto a photograph of Marigold aged about ten. ‘She had a sweet face, didn’t she?’ she murmured.
‘She still has,’ said Nan, running a crooked finger down the photograph. ‘She gets that from her father. He had the same hazel eyes, like you, Daisy, and the same sweetness in his smile.’ She pointed at a photograph of her husband. ‘There, you see. How very alike they are. Patrick takes after me. We’re both selfish and neither of us is sweet.’
‘Don’t be hard on yourself, Nan.’
Nan stiffened and lifted her chin. ‘I’m not coping very well with Marigold’s condition,’ she confessed suddenly, putting her hand on the page and spreading her fingers. ‘It’s hard, you know, as a mother. Hard to watch. I’m not a good person. I d
on’t have the patience. Your grandfather would have said all the right things. He’d have made her feel better. He’d have made me feel bad for not being more understanding.’
‘We all cope in our own way,’ said Daisy, trying to console her.
Nan said nothing. She turned the pages until she found a photograph of the four of them together. Nan and Grandad, Patrick and Marigold. ‘Grandad always said the greatest life lessons are learned within the family. That’s why there are families. You can’t choose who you come into the world with. You just have to work it out and get along, but you can choose your friends. I’d say I’ve done well with my family.’
‘You haven’t done too badly with your friends, either,’ said Daisy.
‘Elsie’s a cheat,’ Nan retorted. She gave a sniff. ‘I always suspected she was a cheat and now I know.’
‘What are you going to do about your bridge four?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t have to play bridge, you know. I can find something else to do.’ But she didn’t know what.
At that moment the door opened and Lady Sherwood walked in. ‘Oh sorry, Daisy, I didn’t realize you had company.’
‘Come in, it’s just my grandmother.’
Lady Sherwood smiled. ‘Oh hello, I didn’t realize it was you.’
‘We’re looking at an old album of Mum as a girl,’ Daisy told her.
‘Oh, albums are such fun, aren’t they?’ said Lady Sherwood, wandering over to have a look.
‘We’re finding things to include in the puzzle,’ said Nan proudly.
‘That’s what I’ve come about.’ Lady Sherwood looked at Daisy. ‘Would it be all right if I gave you something? I’m not too late, am I?’ She glanced at the board on the table. ‘It looks like you’re ready to paint it.’
Nan closed the album. Daisy stood up. ‘Of course you can. I’d love to include something from you.’
‘It’s just something small. You see, whenever I went into the shop, your mother was always so friendly and smiley. I’d like you to paint the sun. You might have a sun in there already.’
‘Actually I don’t,’ said Daisy.
‘Then perhaps you can fit a sun in and say it’s from me. It’s the way I always see her. The sun shining indiscriminately on everyone in the village. And the village can’t do without sunshine, can it? I don’t think we can do without Marigold. I want her to know that. She’s very special.’
Daisy was touched. ‘Thank you, Celia,’ she said quietly.
Nan was so starstruck by Lady Sherwood that she found she had nothing sour to say. ‘Marigold is sunshine, you’re right,’ she agreed. ‘I can’t think of a better way to describe her.’
Daisy looked at her grandmother in surprise. It was unlike Nan to be so nice.
‘How are you getting on, Lady Sherwood?’ Nan asked gently. ‘It’s hard being widowed, especially when you were married to such a good man.’
A shadow of pain dimmed the light in Lady Sherwood’s eyes. ‘It is hard,’ she agreed. ‘And Owen was a very good man. I miss him all the time.’
‘I still miss Arthur,’ said Nan. ‘I don’t think the pain ever goes away. It deepens somehow, like a voice at the bottom of a well. It’s far away and less acute, but it’s always there. Always.’
‘How lucky you are to have your family around you, though,’ said Lady Sherwood enviously. ‘Taran’s in Toronto and he’s all I have.’
‘Yes, I am very lucky,’ Nan agreed, giving Daisy a small smile. ‘Even Suze, who lives in town, pops in every now and then. But my son Patrick went to live in Australia and I rarely see him. You must rattle around in this big house.’
‘It’s not too big for one,’ Daisy said quickly. It was just like Nan to be tactless.
‘Well, it is, actually,’ said Lady Sherwood. ‘I should really fill it with people, shouldn’t I? I haven’t been very good at getting out since Owen died, or inviting friends over.’
‘It’s still early days,’ said Daisy.
‘Do you play bridge?’ Nan asked. Daisy blushed. She couldn’t imagine Lady Sherwood joining Nan’s bridge nights.
‘Yes, I do,’ Lady Sherwood replied. ‘Owen and I played a lot of bridge. He was very good at it. I’m not so good, but I enjoy playing. Especially with a large glass of wine.’
‘Me too,’ said Nan. ‘I like a little brandy, myself.’
‘Oh, brandy. Now that would be even better.’
‘I had a bridge four, but one player has just left. Would you like to join us? We play often.’
‘Would I learn the village gossip?’ asked Lady Sherwood with a smile.
‘You’d learn more than you’d want to learn,’ replied Nan.
‘Well then, I’d love to give it a try. You might want to sack me after the first game, however. I’m not very good.’
‘We’re not very good either. We get together for the fun of it.’
‘Would you like to come here? I’ve got lots of brandy. Owen loved brandy.’
Nan’s face lit up. ‘That sounds lovely. You do have the space, after all.’
Lady Sherwood clapped her hands. ‘Then that’s settled.’ She glanced at Daisy who was looking back at her in astonishment. ‘When shall we begin?’
Marigold sat in the garden and looked out over the fields. Her father sat beside her, as he often did, in his favourite heathercoloured V-neck sweater and brown corduroy trousers. He looked across at her and his hazel eyes sparkled with affection. ‘How’s it going, Goldie?’
‘Mum says you’re dead.’ She smiled because she knew that he wasn’t.
‘There is no dead. You and I know that, don’t we?’
‘I suspect she thinks my brain is playing tricks on me.’
‘Your brain might play tricks on you, Goldie. But I’m not one of them.’
‘I’m glad you’re here, Dad. I don’t feel so frightened when you’re with me.’
‘You don’t need to be frightened. Just let life take you. Be a leaf on the water. Let it carry you downstream.’
‘Will it carry me to a nursing home, Dad? I’m not sure I’d be very good at living in a nursing home.’
‘It might. You never know where it’s going to take you. But everything in life is an adventure. Even a nursing home can be an adventure.’
‘I like being here.’
‘I like being here too. That’s why I come back. It’s a nice place, looking out over the fields.’
‘I suppose if I had fields to look at, I would feel at home. Or the sea. I love the sea.’
‘You grew up by the sea, Goldie.’
‘And birds. If I had birds to watch, I’d feel at home as well.’
‘You’ve always loved birds.’
‘And you’ll be with me, won’t you?’
Her father smiled. ‘You’re my girl, Goldie. I’m never going to leave you. Like I always tell you. I never have. I’m always here.’
‘Don’t you have better things to do?’
‘What can be better than being with the people I love?’
‘I don’t know. You like gardening. Don’t you have some gardening to do?’
He shrugged. ‘I have all the time in the world to do that.’ He smiled, a big and radiant smile. ‘Oh, the flowers, Goldie. You won’t believe the flowers!’
‘Do you remember when Dennis brought me all those pale pink roses?’
‘That was just after you’d met.’
She smiled tenderly at the recollection. ‘They were the palest pink and they had the most delicious smell. A soft and delicate smell. The smell of love.’ She turned to her father, panicked suddenly. ‘What will happen when I forget those memories?’
‘You can still enjoy roses without your memories, Goldie. Roses will smell just as soft and delicate now as they did back then. They’ll still smell of love.’
Marigold thought about this for a moment. ‘Yes, you’re right. I don’t need the memory to know that Dennis loves me.’
‘He does, Goldie. He loves you very much.’
>
‘I need to tell him that it’s okay if one day he has to put me into a nursing home.’
‘That would be a wise thing to do.’
‘I’d hate him to feel that he was letting me down.’
‘And it would be just like Dennis to feel that way.’
‘He mustn’t suffer.’
‘You’ve always been a kind girl, thinking about other people,’ said her father.
‘I must tell him before I forget. You know, I forget everything these days.’ She looked anxiously at her father. ‘How will I remember to tell him?’
‘I’ll remind you,’ said her father.
‘Can you do that?’
‘You’d be surprised what I can do.’
‘You’re magic,’ said Marigold.
‘We’re all magic.’ He patted her hand. ‘Why don’t you go and tell him now. He’s in his shed.’
‘That’s a good idea.’
Marigold stood up. I mustn’t forget to tell Dennis, she thought as she walked down the garden. I mustn’t forget to tell Dennis.
Dennis put down his saw when Marigold opened the door to his shed. ‘Hello, Goldie,’ he said. ‘You all right?’
Marigold nodded. She was concentrating hard. ‘I mustn’t forget to tell you . . .’ she began. Then whoomph, it was gone. Just like that. One minute there, the next minute vanished. How was that possible?
‘What were you going to tell me, love?’ he asked.
Suddenly a gust of wind blew in through the open door and the newspaper on Dennis’s table fluttered and opened onto an inside page. Marigold looked at it. There was a big photograph of a nurse. With a jolt, the memory returned. ‘I need to tell you that if you have to put me in a nursing home one day I’m all right with that. I’ll understand.’
Dennis looked horrified. He strode over and took her in his arms. ‘I’ll never do that to you,’ he said.
Marigold wrapped her arms around his big frame. ‘Don’t say that, Dennis. Life is full of adventure and a nursing home just might be another adventure for me. I don’t want you to suffer.’
He held her tightly. ‘The only thing that will make me suffer is your suffering.’
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