by Emma Davies
Daisy smiled back. It was hard not to like this charismatic woman. She nibbled the edge of the macaron, the outer shell crisp and crumbly in her mouth. It was nutty and she nibbled some more as the texture changed to one of gooey creaminess. It was not unlike the taste of the hot chocolate she’d had with Bertie and she stuffed the rest of the sweet treat in her mouth impulsively.
‘See?’ Monique grinned. ‘We will make an honorary French woman out of you yet.’ She paused. ‘Of course Ladurée are perfection, but you should learn to make the macaron at home, then you will always have a little bit of extravagance on hand. One must, every day, have one small extravagant thing and that is enough.’
She clasped her hands together. ‘Now then, I am interested to find out about you, Daisy. I have heard so much, from Beatrice and from Lawrence, but Monique always prefers to make up her own mind. That is what I do, why I am here.’
Daisy groaned. ‘Oh, I dread to think what Lawrence had to say about me.’
‘Nothing bad, I assure you… but very plain; the colour eyes, the colour hair, how tall. Nothing that is you. Nothing to tell Monique what fires your soul, what calms it, nor what type of heart beats within your breast.’ She tapped her own chest. ‘Is that not the most important thing of all?’
Daisy had never even thought about it before, but there was something very powerful about Monique’s words. ‘I wouldn’t even know how to answer that,’ she said. And it was true. What type of heart did she have?
‘A good one,’ replied Monique. ‘Of that I am assured.’ She tipped her head to one side. ‘But perhaps one that needs a little fun? A little joie de vivre, n’est-ce pas?’ She took up her teacup. ‘So today we will have the fun, yes?’
Daisy could only nod, although the thought was a little alarming.
‘And I shall get to know all the wonderful things that are Daisy beyond the colour of her eyes, and her hair, which looks like the silky fur of the otter. All these things are right in front of me, I do not need to know them.’ She tapped the side of her nose. ‘And when I have found out all these wonderful things, they will be just for us to know. I shall say nothing of them to the grown-up boy who thinks he can outwit Beatrice. Ha!’ Her face broke into a beaming smile.
Daisy smiled. ‘Do you mean Lawrence?’
‘Of course!’ Monique leaned a little closer, although there was no one else in the room to hear them. ‘It is what I said before. Beatrice and I, we are the very good friends since many years and she has told me all about her plans to run off with the delectable Charles. Oh, he is so handsome! And so she has the task of who is going to run her wonderful little business. But she is clever, you know that of course, and with the three brothers, it is not easy to choose. So she makes it that they will choose themselves.’ Monique sat back with a gleeful look on her face.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand.’
‘It is the one thing that Beatrice regrets, you see. When they were little it was so hard, to look after them all, and to make the business work, that she didn’t think about the money. Because the money has always been there, you know. Her husband was a very wealthy man. But now, she is older and wiser and she sees how it made the boys so they did not have to think, or find out what type of heart beat within their chests.’ She smiled. ‘And so Beatrice, she has the cunning plan, to help them find this out for themselves. And wonderful Daisy, you are helping, are you not?’
‘Am I?’
Monique picked up a macaron and brought it to her lips as if kissing it. ‘Oh yes, it is magic…’ She popped the fancy in her mouth and sighed. ‘Just the little extravagance.’
Daisy swallowed. ‘So what do we do now?’ she asked.
‘Ah, that is simple,’ said Monique. ‘We shop!’
Ten minutes later Daisy was virtually naked.
‘You English women,’ announced Monique. ‘Always the shy. Hiding themselves away behind the buttons and the collars. Let me get a proper look at you.’
Daisy didn’t think she had ever stood in front of anyone with so little clothes on, not even the local doctor.
‘And the underwear. Mon Dieu…’ Monique held her hands up as if weighing two melons and it didn’t take a genius to work out what she was referring to. ‘You have the pert bosom of the young and yet… ah, so sad, to be hidden behind such drabness, such meanness of fabric. Your clothes should be a part of you, they should speak of the person within, and your underwear, well of course that is for your lover. It should be the last layer of delight before kissing you, the unwrapping of the prize jewel.’
‘Heavens, I haven’t even got a boyfriend,’ Daisy said, blushing.
‘Non? Well then one day soon, and when the lucky man arrives, Daisy will be ready for him.’
‘Monique, you do know I won’t be buying anything today, don’t you?’
She sighed. ‘I know, I know, but I can dream, can’t I? And more to the point, so can you. Tell me, do you always wear clothes such as this? What other things do you have?’
Daisy shrugged. ‘They’re mostly like I’m wearing today.’ She didn’t want to admit that they were identical. ‘I think they suit me.’
‘Hmmm, comme ci, comme ça… But they could be so much better. The colours for example… the cut… and now that I have had the good look at you, I will decide. Here, slip this on, I will be no more than a few moments. Already I can see it.’ She handed Daisy a silk robe and disappeared through a mirrored door at the far end of the room.
Daisy pulled the robe around her and sat down with a bump. She felt rather like she’d been hit by an express train, but it was hard not to get swept along by Monique’s enthusiasm. Half an hour ago the thought of shopping had been one she hadn’t relished at all, now she was quite intrigued to see what would be chosen for her.
She was just nibbling at another macaron when the door opened again and Monique reappeared, almost hidden behind a pile of fabric. She crossed to the far wall and one by one hung up the selection of dresses she was carrying. Then she turned to Daisy with a beaming smile.
‘Now we are ready,’ she said. ‘For Daisy to reveal herself.’
She took down a floor-length gown, the like of which Daisy had never seen before. It was like something from a fairy tale.
‘And we will start with this,’ said Monique. ‘Because I want to see the light on your face and in your heart when you wear it. For you the perfect colour, I think?’ She held the dress closer so that Daisy could see it more clearly.
It was simply styled, sleeveless, with a fitted bodice and full skirt, but its beauty was in its colour – a pale teal-blue silk printed with large flowers. A layer of tulle lay over the silk, the bodice embellished with beautiful embroidery to accent the flowers. It softened the whole look and it was quite the prettiest dress that Daisy had ever seen.
Monique slipped it expertly over her head, nodding with satisfaction at her choice. It fitted like a glove and, as she settled the fabric around her, Daisy raised her head to look at her reflection.
The initial shock at seeing herself in something so different was expected, but as she stared at her reflection an unexpected feeling crept over her. She smiled as the word came to her lips. Ethereal. Yes, that was it. She felt as if she were made of gossamer, that only the lightest threads still tethered her to earth and that any moment she could pull free and fly…
She shook her head, smiling. How silly. And yet… As she stood there trying to work out what it was about the gown, apart from its grandeur, that made it so very different from anything she had ever worn before, she suddenly realised that it was because it was patterned. And every single thing she owned at home was plain. How had she never even seen that? The things she adored the most were all patterned – the play of moonlight on water, dancing buttercups in the meadow, even raindrops glittering on the spiders’ webs that hung from her gate – and yet she had surrounded herself with none of these things.
Monique was watching her. ‘You like this, yes? You feel…’
She snapped her fingers. ‘Yes, like the million dollars?’
Daisy laughed. ‘It probably costs that much too.’
‘Non, not quite the four thousand pounds. A bargain, don’t you think?’ She laughed at Daisy’s reaction.
‘I shouldn’t even be wearing this,’ she said, horrified. ‘What if I damage it?’ She lifted her hands clear of the fabric she had just been stroking. ‘How can a dress even cost that much?’
Monique shrugged. ‘We have many that are even more expensive. But how can you put a cost on how this dress makes you feel? If all your clothes made you feel this way then there would be no need for beauty such as this, no?’
She looked around her, gesturing at a large canvas hanging on the wall beside the sofas. ‘A work of art hangs on a wall and it justifies its very existence simply by being looked at. And this is all right because it has a famous painter. The man who made this dress has also painted a work of art and yet he has used fabric to do so. So I ask you, Daisy, what is the difference?’
Daisy stared at herself in the mirror, seeing things she’d never seen before, and a small smile crept up her face. One small extravagance every day…
‘Can I ask you something, Monique?’ she said after a few moments. ‘What are you going to tell Lawrence? About today, I mean.’
Monique thought for a moment, weighing something up in her head before holding up a finger. ‘One moment,’ she said, and slipped back through the door. She was gone for even less time than before and when she returned she was carrying a square wooden box which she placed down on the table. ‘Come,’ she said. ‘Sit down,’ and she beckoned Daisy across.
The lid of the box was hinged either side and split down the middle so that it opened from the centre. Pulling either piece caused the sides to expand outwards rather like a grandiose toolbox, except that when Daisy saw what was nestled inside, she gasped in shock.
‘They are replicas only,’ said Monique. ‘The gowns, they are the one thing, but these… I would live in fear of handling them.’
Monique lifted a ‘diamond’ choker clear from where it was lying alongside an assortment of other jewels, the sight of which made Daisy feel faint. She was used to handling expensive jewellery, but the things Buchanans sold might as well have been tawdry baubles by comparison. Monique handed her the necklace before opening the other side of the box so that Daisy could see the full array of what was on offer.
For a moment Daisy was so busy trying to take in what was in front of her that she didn’t really ‘see’ what she was meant to. After a few more seconds though, the penny dropped and she looked up at Monique.
‘I was supposed to choose one of these?’ she asked. She didn’t even need to look for Monique’s quiet nod to know that she was right.
‘As an accompaniment to the clothes,’ Monique replied. ‘For each outfit a new choice, or perhaps the same choice. They are all items which are available in the store and I was to let Lawrence know which you favoured. It’s my job to discern these things even when nothing is said.’
Daisy nodded. ‘I see… And he didn’t think I would see through that?’
Monique shrugged. ‘I think Lawrence is used to taking the quickest route to the things he wants.’ She really didn’t need to say any more.
Daisy laid the necklace back in the box. ‘So what are you going to tell him?’
‘Well now, let me see if Monique has got it right… ‘ Her eyes were twinkling. ‘So… You are wearing this dress, on the most beautiful night of your life, and you want it to be absolutely perfect. What do you choose?’
‘None of them,’ replied Daisy immediately.
Monique beamed, clearly delighted with her answer. ‘Then I shall tell Lawrence that I’m afraid I cannot help him.’
14
Friday 13th December
Twelve shopping days until Christmas
Daisy was exhausted. And even though she still wasn’t at all comfortable sitting in first class on the train, she sank into the seat with relief. The last couple of hours had been draining.
Up until then she’d actually been enjoying herself. Monique was funny and incredibly astute, but she was also very wise and Daisy found herself admiring the woman who had done her very best to put her at ease. Under her gentle guidance Daisy had learned which colours suited her and how to make the most of her figure without resorting to clothes that felt too tight or too revealing. She had tried on a huge variety of styles that had given her ideas for what to wear together and what mistakes to avoid and, most importantly, where Daisy might purchase similar things from ordinary high-street shops if she wanted to. Daisy had twigged almost straight away what Monique was trying to do of course, but she still felt touched that she was even bothering to try and bolster Daisy’s confidence. And whether or not Bea had asked her to do it was immaterial; the request, if there had been one, was not at all evident in the way that Monique treated her, and a huge contrast to the way that Lawrence had behaved.
He had been kept at bay for most of the time she had been with Monique, shooed out of the way in no uncertain terms and, although he left with ill grace each time, Daisy noted that on his return he had managed to amass even more purchases. Eventually though, he made it clear that, as he had brought Daisy to the shop, and paid for their day out, including Monique’s services, he felt he should be allowed to stay and see for himself the things Daisy had chosen. Monique had had no choice but to relent. When they left, an hour later, Daisy gave Monique a warm hug, whereas Lawrence simply reminded her to get in touch with him as she had promised. This at least made Daisy smile; if only he knew…
It was now nearly five and thoroughly dark, or as much as it ever got dark in the capital. A mean wind had sprung up, making it bitterly cold. The train was sweltering by contrast and Daisy was beginning to feel claustrophobic, both because of the lack of air and because of the atmosphere which had settled around her the moment Lawrence sat down. She could feel him watching her.
She waited until the train had pulled out of the station before turning to him in exasperation.
‘For goodness’ sake, if you’ve got something to say, say it, but stop staring at me.’
He adopted an amused expression. ‘I’m just wondering if you enjoyed your afternoon, that’s all,’ he replied. ‘You seem to get on well with Monique.’
‘It would be hard not to,’ she said. ‘She’s lovely. And I can see why she’s such good friends with Bea.’
Lawrence frowned. ‘They’re a terrible influence on each other, as you might imagine. Today was a bit of frivolous fun, obviously, but hopefully it has given Monique some valuable information.’
Daisy sighed. ‘Yes, let’s hope so. I’d hate for it to have been a complete waste of time…’ Honestly, did Lawrence have no insight at all?
He gave a satisfied smile. ‘Indeed… And I’m very grateful to you, obviously, for coming today and giving up your time. And for being such a good sport about it all. I hope it’s been useful for you too?’
Oh it had. It had confirmed to her without a doubt that there was absolutely no way she could ever work with Lawrence. And she really didn’t know where that left her.
‘It’s proved most enlightening actually,’ she said. ‘Although there is just one other thing you can help me with.’
‘Yes?’
‘Assuming that you do end up running Buchanans, I just wondered how you saw the future of the business. What changes you might put into place?’ She gave him a searching look. ‘And don’t pretend that you haven’t thought about it, Lawrence – I bet you have the whole thing planned down to the last detail.’
He gave her a smug look. ‘Of course. Like I said, Daisy, Buchanans is my birthright and I fully intend to make it mine. I’ve thought long and hard about what I will need to implement once I take control, but—’ He broke off to give a condescending laugh. ‘Forgive me if I don’t share my ideas with you. Not just yet anyway. I’d hate for anyone else to have the benefit of them.’
‘Why do you dislike your brothers so much?’ she asked.
Lawrence considered the question for no longer than a second. ‘Because they’re weak. And if you’re asking me if there will be jobs for them at the end of all this, the answer is no. I wouldn’t expect them to give me a job either, although I suspect that they both would: Bertie because he’s so keen never to upset anyone, and Kit because he doesn’t care enough to make a decision. In fact, he probably hasn’t even thought about it. Simply put, they don’t have it in them to run the business.’
‘Because they’re not like you, you mean,’ said Daisy. ‘And a person’s strength or weakness is only defined by how they measure up to your standards, is that it?’ She paused for a moment, letting her words hang in the air. ‘Which is odd because I’ve always found that real strength comes quietly, often when you least expect it.’
Earlier, on their outward journey, she had evaded Lawrence’s question about his father out of a desire to get along and enter into the spirit of the day without taking sides. But now it felt as if she had a duty to stick up for both Kit and Bertie. She turned back from the window.
‘You see, I get that when your dad died you felt the responsibility for the family passed to you. As the eldest male I guess that made sense, but that’s a pretty powerful place to sit for someone so young. And it made it so much easier for you to get your own way, didn’t it? To throw your weight around without considering what anyone else wanted because you could always hide it under the banner of someone needing to take charge. So maybe Bertie is the way he is because being the life and soul of the party allowed him some freedom from being constantly told what he could and couldn’t do from an early age. Perhaps he gave up trying to have his say and became the family mediator instead. Is that weakness? I don’t know… maybe it’s a particular kind of strength… I should imagine it’s incredibly wearing trying to keep the peace the whole time.’