Daisy Does it Herself

by Gracie Player

  The definition of insanity—doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. That was the very definition of my relationship with my mother.

  After putting the phone down, I racked my brain and tried to review my remaining options. As far as I could tell, there weren’t a great many left to review. Going back to Phil was the smartest thing to do, according to Mum. But it didn’t feel all that smart. What would it say about me – about us – if all I did was sweep his infidelity under the carpet and let bygones be bygones? Mum wanted me to be hard-headed and realistic, but that approach seemed more cowardly than anything. To pretend it was all just a lot of fuss over nothing. To keep calm and carry on. At the same time, my mum had a point—I really didn’t want my old life back, living in a string of crummy apartments with cranky housemates, unable to get a moment’s peace. As for relationships, I’d had boyfriends before, but Phil was an improvement on all of them. Even now, after what he’d just done.

  I sighed, way beyond exhausted. My body ached like I’d just run a marathon. Remembering Alex’s offer, I padded over in my stockinged feet to check out the en suite bath.

  The bathroom was small, quaint, and dotted with scented candles that smelt vaguely floral. The tub itself was ornate, curving elegantly at the rim, and big enough to wallow in. A tiny cluster of essential oils were lined up next to the taps. I turned the right tap on and within seconds I heard the hot water tank rumble into action.

  I couldn’t think of anything better right now than a long, hot bath, except perhaps living in a parallel universe where none of this had ever happened. One in which I’d returned home to my non-cheating boyfriend to celebrate my slightly-less-imaginary promotion.

  I ran the bath, good and deep, until the room filled with steam and I could no longer see my stricken, bruised-looking eyes in the bathroom mirror. I ran lavender scented bath oil under the hot tap and swished it with my hand, testing the temperature. Then I stripped off that damned skirt suit, shed my tights and underwear and sank into the scented water with a sigh.

  I closed my eyes, my mind drifting. As I was eased by the warm, fragrant water, I began to sink into a light, dreamy sleep.

  Thirteen

  Someone was knocking insistently on the door. I sat up sharply, sloshing water. The bath around me had gone ice cold. I realised the knocking had been going on for some time, intruding into my dream.

  I lifted my hands out of the water and turned them around. My fingers looked like shrivelled prunes. The knock came again, harder this time.

  ‘Daisy?’ It was Alex, sounding worried. Oh God, he probably thought I’d done something stupid. From the hallway, I heard him shout out, ‘Daisy! Are you all right?’

  Embarrassed, I leapt out of the bath and grabbed the first towel I could find, yelling, ‘Hold on, hold on, I’m coming,’ as I skidded across the floor. I flung open the door, puffing and shedding water.

  Alex stood there gawping at me. His eyes brushed against the top of my collarbone; then he made a point of glancing away.

  ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Sorry, Daisy.’

  Oh shit, I realised too late that the towel I had snatched up in my haste barely covered my—well. I crossed my legs.

  ‘Hi,’ I said brightly, puffing an errant curl away from my eyes while I slowly dripped onto the hardwood floor.

  Alex was holding a tray that seemed absurdly dainty in his large hands. He thrust it towards me, still staring off at the door frame, but I was in no position to take it. If I let go of this damned towel, it was going to drop at his feet. Then we really would have something to be embarrassed about.

  ‘Maybe you could put it down over there,’ I said, gesturing in the general direction of the bedside table with one hand while the other kept the towel scrunched together.

  ‘Right, okay.’ Alex marched across the room. Determinedly not looking at me, he put the tray down where I’d asked him to. I edged a little closer. Something smelt wonderful.

  ‘Soup,’ Alex said. Oh God, now he actually had his hand half over his eyes, the poor man. Here he was trying to do me a simple favour and I’d turned him into an accidental Peeping Tom!

  The corner of my mouth crept up an inch. There was something quite endearing about seeing this six-foot-something Man (with a capital M) in such a fluster.

  Bending down as carefully as I could, I breathed in the aromatic scent while trying not to reveal what little of me was still left to my host’s imagination. ‘That smells amazing,’ I said. ‘Did you make this as well?’

  Alex nodded from behind his hand mask. ‘Pastry chef, short order cook, odd job man, and bookseller on a good day. You get to wear a lot of hats around here. It’s one of the benefits of being chronically short-staffed.’

  ‘You can tell it’s home-made,’ I told him. ‘Clearly prepared with lots of love.’

  This pleased Alex enough for him to chance a peek in my general direction. I smiled encouragingly at him and gave the inviting bowl another sniff.

  ‘Mm…Chicken soup, my favourite,’ I said.

  ‘You arrived on a good day then.’ Alex’s fingers widened again and he chanced another look in my direction. I felt a darting pull in my stomach as our eyes connected. I completely forgot we were chatting about soup. The smile promptly dropped off my face. Oh boy.

  ‘I brought you some clothes as well,’ he said. ‘Just a T-shirt to sleep in.’ His voice seemed to have dropped an octave, sending a shiver across my skin. From the slight upward twitch of his lips, I’d say he had noticed my reaction. My cheeks heated with embarrassment.

  ‘Right-oh,’ I said. Right-oh? Sweet Jesus, who am I, Mary F-ing Poppins? I felt a giggle bubbling up inside me. The towel slipped an inch and I grabbed at it wildly.

  ‘Right, right,’ Alex said. I snorted. Suddenly, Alex held his hand up to his mouth, laughing into it, trying not to look at me while I rearranged myself.

  The sound of his rich, rumbling voice set me off even more and I cracked up laughing as well. At least I’d dialled back the sexual tension with my goofy shenanigans.

  ‘Sorry, Daisy,’ Alex said, getting control of himself. ‘I know I shouldn’t laugh, but this whole situation is a bit…’

  Sexy, I thought. Although I answered, ‘Awkward,’ instead.

  ‘Exactly,’ Alex said.

  Just then I heard the familiar scrabble of nails as Wolf bounded in the room and made a beeline straight for me.

  ‘Oh no, you don’t,’ Alex said, grabbing his collar as I backed away, hissing ‘Bad doggy,’ at Wolf, who grinned happily back at me.

  ‘I’m not decent,’ I said. ‘You can’t be jumping all over me at a time like this.’

  Restrained at the last moment, Wolf rolled his eyes up at me.

  ‘I better get out of your hair then,’ Alex said. ‘Just come down when you’re ready in the morning. I’ll take you to the station. I’ve written my number down for you. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.’

  I nodded, taking the number from him, not trusting myself to speak. Who was this man who would put himself out so thoroughly for a stranger? I tried to imagine Phil doing the same thing in a similar situation. Nope.

  Maybe he was just trying to get into my pants. But other than that heated moment just gone – and let’s be honest I was standing practically naked and dripping wet right in front of him – I hadn’t gotten the sense that he was laying it on thick or trying it on in any way.

  Alex retreated towards the door and tried taking Wolf with him. But the Great Dane dug his claws in. He clearly didn’t want to go.

  ‘Wolf. Come,’ said Alex. The dog rolled his eyes up at Alex, his expression said, ‘Not bloody likely.’

  ‘It’s okay, he can stay here,’ I said. ‘Keep watch over me.’

  ‘I should warn you, he snores,’ Alex said.

  ‘So do I,’ I answered.

 
Alex laughed. ‘Can you leave the door open a crack if he’s still here when you go to bed? Otherwise he’ll be scratching at the door and bothering you in the night. He’s got a doggy flap downstairs so he can get out if he needs to.’

  ‘Sure thing,’ I nodded.

  ‘Okay, get some rest, Daisy,’ Alex added, his voice gentle now. ‘Things will look better in the morning.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about that.’

  Alex shot me another of those concerned looks as if my well-being really mattered to him. There was a slightly awkward pause.

  ‘Well, goodnight then,’ he said, and left, shutting the door behind him.

  I looked down at Wolf, who looked back at me as if to say, ‘So…now what?’ He trotted over to the foot of the bed and settled down on the floor. He put his muzzle on his paw with a huff of air.

  I made a beeline for the goodies Alex had left me. Holy mackerel, it really did look good. A deep bowl of steaming chicken broth and three slices of thick bread slathered in creamy butter. Nor had Alex stopped there. There was cheese and crackers with home-made pickle on a side dish. A big mug of tea. And bless your soul, St. Alex of Upper Fingly – or wherever the hell it was I’d washed up – a miniature bottle of cabernet.

  Also on the tray my host had placed the offending copy of Poe’s Collected Works that had conked me on the head earlier. I could chuckle about it now, which surely counted as progress.

  On the bed neatly folded was an oversized man’s T-shirt. I picked it up and gave it a sniff, rather disappointed to find that it smelled of laundry detergent, not—not what? Daisy, you shameless perv. I pushed my smutty thoughts away.

  Planting myself on the bed, I picked the spoon up and made short work of the chicken broth. Wolf flopped at my feet, making puppy eyes and throwing in the odd mournful whine for good measure. After I’d demolished a good four-fifths of it, I relented and put the bowl down next to my suddenly animated companion.

  While Wolf licked the bowl clean, I changed into my borrowed nightshirt. The one that Alex normally filled out with his broad shoulders and rippling six-pack. For goodness’ sake, Daisy, enough now!

  Switching off the main light, I flicked on the antique lamp with the frilly shade that stood on the bedside table. Then I slipped beneath the covers and twisted open the miniature bottle of red wine. Drinking straight from the bottle, I flicked through the Poe book. In the mood for something suitably dark and brooding, I settled on ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’.

  If Wolf did snore, I wasn’t aware of it. Within twenty minutes I had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep, the book still in my hand. At some point in the night, the great galah got onto the bed and tunnelled his way up under the covers. I wrapped myself around him, breathing in his warm doggy smell, and cried into his fur, racked with feelings of sorrow and confusion. A sense of being all alone in the world. Lost. Then I went back to sleep and knew nothing more until the morning. In fact, I didn’t wake again until the day was well and truly underway.

  Fourteen

  I shifted my legs and snuggled deeper into the bed. The air smelt floral and from behind my closed eyes, I could tell it was bright outside. I pulled the blanket over my head, reluctant to fully awaken. The cloth felt scratchy and unfamiliar against my cheek.

  Anxiety began to gnaw. A prickle of unease. I knew something was wrong before I was awake enough to remember what it was. Then, like a sucker punch, everything came flooding back.

  Getting fired, fleeing from Phil and Francesca. My breakdown on the tube.

  My eyes popped open. I wasn’t in London. I was…actually I still didn’t know exactly where I was. Not that I was in any great rush to piece things together. I wanted nothing more than to fall back into forgetful oblivion. My eyelids started to sink. But I didn’t really have that luxury. I had decisions to make. Big ones. Like where the hell I was going to live and how the hell I was going to pay for it.

  I slowly rolled the blanket down until my eyes were peeping out over the top. The room was bright, sunlight playing on the walls. I must have fallen asleep without even drawing the curtains. Now the sun beamed cheerfully through the window, directly into my face. I scowled back at it.

  Realising I was always going to be the loser in that particular battle, I fumbled for my phone, blearily rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, then sat bolt upright when I saw what time it was.

  The veil of sleep promptly dropped away and I was left with cold, clean panic. Shit! I’d slept for sixteen hours straight. How was that even possible?

  Oh God. My stomach dropped. I had planned to be up and ready first thing. What must Alex be thinking? Had he waited for me at breakfast? Was he pissed off? Mortified, I flopped back down on the bed.

  I gave myself another few moments to fester in self-pity, but eventually my eyes drifted to the window. If the bright blue patch of sky I could see was anything to judge by, it was a beautiful day. I sighed. I couldn’t lie here feeling sorry for myself much longer. I was going to have to go downstairs and face the music.

  The dog had left me at some point in the night and I wondered if I had dreamt him up. Then I sneezed. I picked a grey hair off my shoulder. Nope. Wolf was real all right.

  I glanced back at my phone. No more missed calls, but several texts had come in from Phil during the night, the last around 11:00 p.m. I’d slept right through them all. I scrolled through as they went from apologetic to irritated. The last one simply said, Please call me, Daisy. This is childish. We need to talk. You owe me that much.

  I put the phone back on the bedside table, rather more forcefully than was strictly necessary. Okay, maybe my response yesterday had been a little extreme, but he didn’t get to call me out on things anymore. He’d lost that right. Rather than being empowering, the thought sat heavy in my chest, making me feel sad and defeated. Alone. I was totally alone.

  What was I supposed to do—swallow my pride, suck it up, pretend that none of this had happened? According to my mum at least, the answer was yes.

  You owe me that much…

  I stared again at the last line of his text message. I didn’t see how I could possibly owe Phil anything after what had happened yesterday. I heard Mum’s reply to that, as if she was right here in the room and leaning into my ear.

  What about that lovely flat, Daisy? The enviable life you lead. All those little luxuries you’ve grown accustomed to.

  Which was all true, but what was that life worth if it was built on deception? I knew that Phil was completely dependable in other ways, but surely this was the one that really mattered? Or was Mum right? Were these just the fanciful notions of a sensitive dreamer, an incurable romantic?

  Pursing my lips, I picked the phone up again and made my decision. Whether I owed Phil a call or not, I owed it to myself to be assertive. Whatever happened next, I needed to get out on the front foot instead of hiding away. That said, I stayed in bed to make the call, propped up against the pillows, with the blankets draped over me like armour.

  I listened to the call signal, my heart in my mouth. Phil answered on the fourth ring.

  ‘Daisy. At last. Thank God.’

  The worry was clear in his voice, and, despite myself, I felt relieved to hear it. I steeled myself. Phil didn’t need to know what I was feeling.

  ‘Well,’ I said instead, ‘here I am, what do you have to say for yourself?’

  ‘Where to start?’ he said. ‘To say I’ve been a fool would be an understatement.’

  ‘Then how about we label you a stupid prick instead?’

  That left Phil speechless. I was a little taken aback myself by the sudden flare of anger.

  ‘Okay. Yes, if you must. A stupid prick. I can hardly argue with that, can I?’

  I knew what it cost Phil to show that much humility.

  ‘I did catch you bang to rights.’

  ‘I can explain though,’ he said. ‘Okay, not al
l of it. But you have to hear me out and let me put the whole thing into context.’

  ‘Be my guest,’ I said. ‘I’m all ears.’

  ‘It doesn’t excuse everything, I know, but Frannie really did throw herself at me.’

  ‘You didn’t seem to be putting up much of a fight.’

  ‘She ambushed me, babe. Honestly! One minute we were talking normally, and the next she was all over me.’

  ‘None of which explains why you were at home in the middle of the day, all alone with your “attacker”.’ I injected as much sarcasm as I could into that last word.

  ‘I know it looks bad, Goose, but I do have an explanation. She said she had to see me. Claimed it couldn’t wait. Evidently, she’d had the most terrible bust-up with Sebastian that morning and there was no one else she could turn to. I know in hindsight it looks dodgy as hell, but what else was I supposed to do?’

  ‘So you want me to believe you were just being a good Samaritan?’

  ‘Yes,’ Phil said. ‘Exactly. It wasn’t like I wanted to get caught in the middle. Sebastian’s a good friend. And I’d always thought that Fran was too.’

  ‘Oh, she’s friendly all right…’

  ‘I know,’ Phil agreed. ‘The thing is I’ve never thought much of it before—the way she can get a little touchy-feely. I just thought that’s how she was with everyone.’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Well, hindsight is a wonderful thing. If I’m guilty of anything it’s naivety.’

  ‘So none of this was pre-planned, is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘I swear to you, Daisy. I was as shocked as you by the way events unfolded.’

  I shook my head vigorously, although Phil couldn’t see me.

  ‘I doubt that very much.’

  ‘And it wouldn’t have gone any further, if that’s what you’re thinking. There’s no way in a million years I would have allowed that to happen. I know I didn’t stop it quickly enough. Daisy, I’m truly sorry for that. It was just the shock. You know?’