Did she love them both?
Was it possible to love two men at the same time?
A few days later Daisy finished painting the puzzle. Dennis drove up to the barn to collect it in his car and, without Marigold seeing it, they carried it into his shed so that he could cut it into pieces large enough for Marigold to manage, but small enough to still pose a challenge. He knew Marigold still liked a challenge, even though she wasn’t up to much these days. He set to work with a bandsaw, switching to a fretsaw for the fiddly bits. He worked long into the night, eager to finish it. The result was a puzzle more exquisite than any he had crafted before. With Daisy’s help he had truly created something special.
Dennis unveiled it to Daisy the following morning. ‘It’s a work of art,’ she said, catching her breath with excitement.
He nodded. ‘I think she’ll like it.’
‘Oh, I know she will, Dad,’ said Daisy. ‘She’ll love it.’
Dennis put his arm around her. ‘You’re a good daughter,’ he said. ‘I know your mother appreciates you, but I want you to know that I do too. Your support is invaluable. We’re lucky to have you living at home.’
A lump lodged itself in Daisy’s throat. She turned to embrace him. ‘I’m happy I’m here to support you,’ she said and rested her head against his big chest. She could hear his heart beating beneath his shirt. His heart that carried within it his unswerving love for Marigold. She thought of her own heart and wondered how, if she chose Taran, they were going to resolve the complicated geography of their situation. He was there and she was needed here. Between them was the vast Atlantic. There was nowhere to meet in the middle. Either he had to come here, or she had to go there. Or they simply wouldn’t meet at all.
Or she could choose Luca and live here, close to her parents. But was Luca really intending to move, or did he just want her back so badly that he was willing to make promises now that he wouldn’t be able to keep later? Was Luca’s proposal attractive simply because he had offered to move here?
Daisy was in such a state of turmoil that she didn’t telephone Luca either. She needed to clear her head. She needed to work out what she wanted. More specifically, she needed to work out who she wanted.
However, Luca continued to text her. I can’t think of anything else but you, he wrote. You’re in my heart and in my head and I’m pining for you.
Suze offered to help decorate the village hall for Marigold’s party. She believed she had a good eye for that sort of thing. Daisy was happy to relinquish control. She and Dennis had created the puzzle, it was only fair that Suze contributed something. With an enthusiasm that surprised her sister, Suze and Batty recruited a small group of friends and together they worked tirelessly transforming the cold, functional hall into a winter fairyland. Suze knew how much her mother loved snow, so she covered the fir trees and holly that Batty had arranged around the room with fake snow purchased in town. The snow sparkled with millions of diamonds in the fairy lights that they draped over all the surfaces and along the spider’s web of string they had put up just beneath the ceiling. Along those strings they threaded thick gold and silver tinsel and hung bright red baubles. The effect was mesmerizing. The final touch was the three hundred battery-powered tea lights that they arranged in a path from the street to the door, and in clusters along the edge of the hall floor. They turned off the ugly strip lights and the whole place sparkled like a magical ballroom in a fairy tale.
Satisfied with her work, Suze photographed it for Instagram. Her fans would be impressed, she thought happily. She’d get loads of likes for this. And she’d rally Daisy and her friends to help her take it all down in the morning.
It was a miracle that Marigold’s party had been kept secret. Nan had claimed that even if someone had let the cat out of the bag, she’d have soon forgotten all about it anyway. But Daisy wasn’t so sure. She was certain that Marigold would not forget such an exciting event as a party in her honour.
Dennis had invited people by word of mouth in case someone left the invitation on a mantelpiece where Marigold might spot it. Eager to help with the party the Commodore had insisted on paying for the wine. Not to be outdone, Cedric had said he would bake cupcakes. Dolly promised to bring mini sausages in honey-and-mustard sauce. Mary was quick to suggest that she supply the paper plates and cups. Jean wanted to contribute too and said she’d supply the cutlery. Bridget offered to make a big salad and Beryl brought an enormous ham. Eileen baked potatoes wrapped in foil. Pete and John suggested they bring beer for those, like them, who preferred it to wine, and Tasha said she’d arrange the soft drinks. Batty appointed himself DJ because he said he wouldn’t survive the afternoon if any of the oldies chose the music. Suze made him promise he’d play songs that Marigold liked.
Daisy had invited Lady Sherwood, certain that she would decline. But to Daisy’s surprise she was eager to join in and keen to help in any way that she could. ‘Is there anything I can bring?’ she asked when Daisy was in the barn, putting away her paints.
‘I think we’ve got more than we need,’ Daisy replied. ‘But you’re sweet to want to contribute.’
Lady Sherwood was disappointed. ‘Oh, I so wanted to help.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘I’ll have to think,’ she said. ‘I’m sure there’s something you haven’t thought of.’
The guests turned up in good time and laid out their contributions on the long trestle tables Suze had put up at the back of the room. They sighed in wonder at the beauty of the decorations, oohing and aahing over the pretty lights and pretend snow. Suze was quick to tell them that it was her vision. ‘Oh, you’re an artist, just like your sister!’ gushed Eileen. ‘What a talented family you are! Marigold is going to love this!’
Dennis told Marigold to put on a pretty dress. ‘Are we going out?’ she asked excitedly. ‘I do love dressing up.’
‘Yes,’ said Dennis. ‘We’re going to a party.’
‘I love a party!’ she exclaimed, hurrying into her bedroom to find something suitable to wear. ‘Which dress do you think, Dennis?’ she asked. The truth was she couldn’t remember what dresses she had and this was a good way of hiding it.
‘Let me see,’ said Dennis, opening her wardrobe. He flicked through the hanging clothes until he settled on a red dress with white polka dots. ‘I like this one. Red suits you.’ He lifted the hanger off the rail and showed it to her.
‘Oh yes, that’s a lovely dress,’ she said, but she couldn’t ever remember wearing it.
Marigold had a bath then sat at her dressing table to do her hair and make-up. She looked old, she thought a little sadly. Fortunately, she was plump so that her skin didn’t sag like her mother’s. But there was something different about her eyes. They were still a pretty hazel colour, but there was a vague look about them now that was foreign to her. She shrugged off her anxiety because she was going to a party. She couldn’t remember the last party she’d gone to. She did remember a party long ago where she had worn a yellow dress with blue flowers. Dennis had been there. Then he’d bought her roses. The prettiest shade of pale pink, they were, and they’d smelled divine. She smiled with pleasure as she remembered the roses, and Dennis. Somehow she couldn’t think of roses without thinking of Dennis.
Dennis put on a suit. He stood in front of the long mirror in the bedroom and admired it. He’d bought it especially for Suze’s wedding. It had cost a small fortune but it had been worth it. Look, he was wearing it now! Marigold came and stood beside him. The two of them gazed into their reflection. Marigold took his hand.
‘You look beautiful, Goldie,’ he said.
‘And you look handsome, Dennis,’ said Marigold.
‘We still cut a dash, don’t we?’ he said with a grin.
‘Only to you,’ she laughed.
He turned and kissed her forehead. ‘You’re still my Goldie.’
She felt his lips linger on her skin. ‘I’ll always be your Goldie,’ she replied.
‘Are you ready for the party?’
‘I don’t know.’
He looked at her and frowned. ‘You don’t know?’
‘Do I like parties?’
‘You love parties.’
‘Okay. Then I’m ready.’
‘Your chariot awaits,’ he said, leading her out of the room.
When Dennis pulled up outside the village hall, Daisy, Suze and Nan were waiting for them at the door. Marigold saw the candle-lined path first and gasped. ‘Oh, it’s beautiful!’ she sighed, gazing at the dancing lights with the wide eyes of a child. Then she saw her family. ‘Ah, that’s nice,’ she added, watching them smiling at her through the car window.
Dennis parked and walked round to open her door. He gave her his hand and she stepped out. ‘You look lovely, Mum,’ said Daisy, walking towards her.
‘Yes, you really do,’ agreed Suze.
‘You’d better come inside before you catch your death of cold,’ said Nan and Marigold was too overwhelmed by the beauty of the candles to argue.
They entered the hall and everyone turned to look at them. Marigold smiled shyly. She recognized some of the faces, although she couldn’t put names to them all. Dennis held her hand tightly. This time he was not going to let her go. They walked through the crowd of happy people and Marigold took in the lights, the tinsel, the fir and holly and snow. ‘Oh, it’s snowed!’ she exclaimed. ‘I love snow.’
‘I decorated the room,’ said Suze proudly.
‘You are clever,’ said Marigold. ‘Is it your birthday?’
‘Not today, Mum,’ Suze replied.
Dennis showed her to a chair where Beryl and Eileen were waiting for her, seated around a table. Marigold recognized them. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it a lovely party!’
‘It really is,’ said Eileen. ‘You know, Suze did all the decoration.’
‘Did she?’ said Marigold. ‘Isn’t she clever.’
She sat down.
Jean offered her a glass of wine. Dolly brought her a sausage. Marigold looked at Dolly and remembered something about a cat. But the memory had left an unpleasant residue so she did not mention it.
Daisy and Suze watched their mother talking to her friends from the side of the room. ‘It’s nice to see her happy, isn’t it?’ said Daisy.
‘I’ll always remember her like this,’ said Suze. Her smile faltered. ‘It’s been hard, hasn’t it? But we’re strong together.’
Daisy lifted her chin. If she looked at Suze now she’d cry. ‘You’ve really done a great job with the decoration,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘It’s amazing. I didn’t realize you were so talented.’
‘I hide my light under a bushel,’ Suze replied.
‘I don’t think you should hide it anymore.’
‘Are you suggesting I decorate halls for a living?’
‘No, but you’re wasted doing a blog.’
‘Well, I’ve been thinking about writing a book.’ Suze smiled shyly as Daisy’s eyes widened with surprise. ‘But don’t tell anyone. I don’t want anyone to know if I fail.’
‘That’s great news. What’s your idea?’
She hesistated, unsure whether to share it. ‘I want to write about Mum,’ she confided.
Daisy looked at her steadily. ‘A book about Mum and dementia?’
‘Yes.’ Suze turned away. Her eyes had suddenly filled with tears and she didn’t want her sister to see.
Daisy was moved. ‘Wow, I didn’t see that coming.’
‘You’re not pleased?’
‘On the contrary. I don’t think you could have come up with a better idea, Suze, I really don’t.’
‘Thank you.’ Suze basked in the warmth of her sister’s admiration. ‘I’m going to call it something like: Living with Dementia, Loving with Dementia. I’ve been mulling over the idea for some time.’
‘You’ll write a beautiful book.’
‘I hope so.’ Then she smiled again and it was full of nervous excitement. ‘I’ve never been more inspired in my life.’
Daisy embraced her. Suze was caught off guard. They weren’t the kind of sisters who hugged each other. At first she stiffened, but as Daisy held her tightly she slowly allowed her body to yield. It felt good.
‘And I have some advice for you,’ said Suze. ‘While we’re on the subject of advice.’
Daisy let her go. ‘What’s that then?’
‘Go and live in Toronto with Taran.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t look so bewildered. I know that Luca came to the house and I know you spent two and a half hours with him in the pub. Don’t ask me where I gleaned that juicy bit of gossip. All I will say is that the village grapevine is still alive and kicking.’
‘God, Suze, is there no discretion in this place?’
‘None at all. Thank goodness, because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to give you my two and a half pence. Go to Toronto and start a new life with Taran. You love him and he’s right for you. If Luca had been right, you would have fought harder for him. You would have compromised. I don’t know much, but I know you well enough to know that you left Luca because you wanted to leave him.’ Daisy tried to protest. ‘Don’t argue with me, Daisy. Deep down you wanted to leave him or you wouldn’t have done it. As Grandad used to say, don’t look back.’
Daisy smiled. ‘Grandad sure made a lasting impression on us all, didn’t he?’
‘When you were with Luca, could you honestly say “There’s nothing wrong with now”? No, you couldn’t. But with Taran, I bet you can. I bet you can say it every moment you’re with him. Because he makes you happy.’ Suze grinned at her sister. ‘Go to Toronto, silly, and live!’
Daisy folded her arms. ‘I can’t. I’m needed here.’
‘Of course you are, but you also have your own life to live and they’ll understand that. If you hide your light under a bushel you’ll lose the one man who really deserves to see it.’
‘But what about Mum and Dad?’ Daisy watched her mother, so vulnerable now, and bit her lip. ‘I can’t leave them.’
Suze pulled a face. ‘They have me, silly!’
‘You?’
‘Let me rise to the challenge. We survived without you for six years, I’m sure we can manage again.’
‘But Mum wasn’t sick then.’
‘And she’s not sick now. It’s not a disease, apparently.’ Then, ‘Daisy, don’t be a fool. Live your life. You only get one.’
At that moment Daisy felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned. There, standing in front of her, grim-faced and distant, was Taran.
She blanched.
‘Excuse us, Suze,’ he said gravely. ‘I think Daisy and I need to talk.’
Daisy felt the blood drain into her feet. He wasn’t the warm, dry-humoured man she had last seen in Toronto, but cold and remote and clearly furious. ‘Let’s go outside,’ she said and followed him.
Once in the dark street he turned to her and shook his head with fury and disappointment. ‘I should have known something was wrong when you stopped taking my calls,’ he said. ‘Then Mother told me your ex-boyfriend had been here. Were you going to tell me or were you just going to drop me like a stone?’
Daisy was horrified. He looked so hurt. ‘I just needed time to clear my head.’ She reached out her hand, but he rejected it by thrusting his in his pockets.
‘I know you’ve been having a hard time with your mother, but we all have to deal with stuff like that. It doesn’t excuse your behaviour. It doesn’t justify you ignoring my calls. I deserve respect at the very least.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly.
‘As far as I was concerned we were in a relationship.’
The use of the past tense injected her with panic. ‘I didn’t tell you about Luca because I didn’t want to worry you,’ she explained. ‘It meant nothing.’
‘If it had meant nothing, you would have called me and told me about it.’ His jaw hardened. ‘You would have just called me, Daisy.’
‘Luca asked me to marry him,’ she told him, hopin
g that if she told him the truth he would forgive her.
‘I know he did. The whole village knows he did!’
Bloody grapevine, Daisy thought crossly. ‘But I didn’t accept.
It’s not Luca I want, it’s you.’
He sighed wearily. ‘Look, Daisy. I don’t want games. I thought I’d found someone who didn’t want games either.’
‘I’m sorry. I should have called. I should have told you. He said he’d come and live here, so I could be near my parents, and for a brief moment I thought I wanted that.’ It sounded pathetic when said out loud.
‘So, this is about geography, is it?
‘I was just thinking of Dad . . .’ She felt her eyes sting with tears.
‘Have you asked your father how he’d feel if you went to live abroad again?’ She looked at him in surprise. It was true, she had never consulted him. ‘If he’s the man I believe him to be, he’ll say go, live your life, be free. I think you’re insulting him by making him responsible for your life in this way. If there’s one thing your parents are not, it’s selfish.’
‘I want to be with you, Taran,’ she said firmly.
‘Do you?’ He looked at her steadily.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Then don’t make it about geography.’ He began to walk away.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Home.’
‘Toronto?’
‘No, here. Let’s speak in the morning. You need to get back to the party. You also need to talk to your father – and I need time alone to think.’
She watched him disappear into the darkness, leaving her alone with her regret. She remained in the street, wiping away tears, hoping her face wasn’t red and blotchy. Hoping no one would know she had been crying. Then she returned to the party, determined to put on a brave face for her mother. Inside, she felt broken.
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