Daisy Does it Herself

by Gracie Player

  As we were doing so, Joe returned to the kitchen with a stack of empty plates and caught the tail-end of our agreement. ‘Hello, hello,’ he said. ‘What devilish bargain have you struck now, big brother?’

  Alex turned to him and presented me. ‘Say hello to our new member of staff.’

  ‘Really?’ Joe said. He seemed almost as pleased as his sibling by the sudden development.

  ‘Yep,’ said Alex. ‘Daisy will be with us for the next month, staying in the attic room.’

  ‘Does this mean I’ll get the odd afternoon off now?’ Joe asked hopefully.

  ‘We’ll see,’ Alex said.

  Joe rolled his eyes. ‘Careful my brother doesn’t work you to death,’ he said, laughing.

  ‘I’ll go and take over the shop counter then, should I?’ I said, hopping up from the bench, eager to prove myself.

  Alex held his hand out, halting me in my tracks. ‘Tomorrow’s fine. Take the afternoon to get your bearings. I don’t know, maybe you want to buy a few basics?’ he said, eyeing my eccentric outfit. ‘You can go and sample the delights of Upper Finlay.’

  ‘That should take you all of five minutes,’ said Joe.

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ I said. ‘It looks like it has oodles of charm to me.’

  ‘I was just thinking with you being a city girl you might struggle with the sleepy pace.’

  ‘Bring it on,’ I said. ‘The sleepier the better. I could do with a break from all the madness.’

  ‘Oh well,’ said Alex, smiling again, ‘you might just have come to the right place.’

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then?’ I said. ‘What time do you want me downstairs?’

  Alex rose from the table and took my plate over to the sink. Lazy hound that I am, I let him.

  ‘I was thinking I’d see you tonight. You’ll need a proper induction before I let you loose on the shop floor. We can do that while I feed you.’

  ‘There’s no need to go to any trouble.’

  ‘You did say room and board, didn’t you? I have to hold up my side of the bargain.’

  ‘I’m quite happy to settle for leftovers, especially if that yummy chicken soup was anything to go by.’

  Alex shook his head firmly. ‘Uh, uh. No way. A deal’s a deal, especially as I’m not actually going to be paying you. I feel bad enough about that as it is.’

  ‘Well, in that case…’

  ‘Good. There we are then.’ It was his turn to jump the gun and act like everything was settled. ‘I’ll meet you back here in the kitchen at seven. That should give you plenty of time to acclimatise.’ He grinned. ‘You’re going to need it.’

  ‘I’ll say,’ Joe chipped in.

  ‘I take it you get more than your fair share of local eccentrics then?’

  ‘Weirdos,’ Alex said. ‘Let’s not beat around the bush.’

  I chuckled at the claim. ‘Oh well, I guess I’d better go meet and greet them.’

  ‘Good luck,’ said Joe, smirking as he washed dishes in the sink.

  Off in the distance, we heard the faint tinkle of a bell.

  ‘A customer!’ said Alex. ‘On a Tuesday. That counts as a minor miracle. Daisy, you must be a good luck charm.’

  I responded by giving him a goofy grin. I couldn’t remember anyone ever calling me that before.

  Seventeen

  I went out the back door and round the side of the bookshop, trying to remember the directions Alex had given me. Not that there was any danger, he’d said, of me getting lost in Upper Finlay.

  According to Alex, I had encountered the high street already on my way from the train station. I couldn’t remember seeing anything that fitted that description. Just a small huddle of shops either side of the pub that I’d hurried past.

  I soon found myself opposite that same pub. It seemed friendlier today, although that was probably more to do with my improved state of mind than anything else. On the benches outside sat a trio of pensioners enjoying the sunshine and half pints of dark ale.

  I span around on my heel, unsure where to go next.

  ‘You all right, duck? You’re not lost, are you?’

  It was one of the pensioners who spoke up, a woman who looked to be in her early seventies. She was wearing a huge baggy jumper, two sizes too big, and sported a glorious bouffant of lilac-tinted hair.

  I turned around, smiling, and considered her question. ‘The high street,’ I said uncertainly. ‘I don’t suppose you could tell me where it is?’

  This prompted laughter from all three of them, although it seemed light-hearted enough.

  ‘You’re looking at it,’ said the only gent, a man with an astonishing rockabilly pompadour. It was dyed jet back, slicked at the sides, and rose from his forehead in a great elaborate crest. He stretched his arms out in both directions. ‘Here it is. Right before your eyes. The whole shopping experience.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Not local then,’ said the second elderly woman. It was a fact, not a question.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Just visiting.’

  ‘For the day?’ asked the ageing rocker.

  ‘A month by the looks of things. I’m helping out in the bookshop for a little while.’

  ‘Ah well, I’m sure they’ll be grateful for that,’ said the first woman.

  ‘By the way,’ I said, ‘I don’t suppose you could point me in the direction of a pound shop?’

  I was hoping to God Upper Finlay had one, given the money I had left.

  ‘Sorry, love. That would be a no,’ the old woman with the lilac hair said.

  ‘Okay. Thanks anyway,’ I answered.

  ‘There’s always TCFCTSI,’ she added. ‘That’s about the closest thing we have to a discount store. If you’re wanting a bargain, that would be your best bet.’

  ‘TCFCTSI?’

  I wasn’t sure if this was a tortured acronym or some strange Derbyshire slang word.

  ‘Two doors down on your left,’ she said, nodding towards the curiously named outlet. ‘You can’t miss it.’

  I said goodbye to my new acquaintances and another thirty steps took me to the shop front. There it was – TCFCTSI – stencilled across the door. There were mannequins in the window, male and female, all wearing Hawaiian shirts and tracksuit bottoms, striking strange dramatic poses.

  Pushing the door open, I walked in and took a few steps forward. It was a charity shop. An especially cluttered one, crammed with second-hand goods of every description. As I sought out women’s clothes among the jumbled chaos, a man appeared from nowhere and slid alongside me.

  ‘Good afternoon, madam. Welcome to our little emporium. May I be of assistance in any way?’

  He was wearing a shiny grey suit and looked like an insurance salesman from a much earlier decade. I was too startled to answer immediately. Instead I studied the name tag clipped to his shiny lapel, which identified him as GEOFF.

  I shook my head, retreating half a step. ‘Just browsing.’

  Geoff advanced, reclosing the gap between us. ‘Would that be for clothes, records, knickknacks? As you can see, we cover all the product categories.’ Geoff looked around the place, radiating pride at this wide selection of goods.

  ‘It’s very impressive,’ I said, not knowing how else to answer.

  He nodded, accepting the compliment. ‘We do like to think so, me and Auntie Lou.’

  Geoff gestured towards the far corner of the shop, which housed a giant Lazy Boy armchair. A tiny, ancient woman with a face like a wrinkled prune reclined casually on it, eating an overripe banana. She was wrapped in a brightly coloured poncho, her slipper-clad feet up on the extended footrest. Her eyes were glued to a paperback copy of Fifty Shades of Grey.

  ‘Blimey,’ she said, pausing to fold down the corner of one page. She licked her finger and used it
to turn on to the next.

  Her eyes scanned the page. ‘Blimey,’ she said again.

  Thinking it was probably best to leave her to it I turned back to Geoff and, against my better judgement, asked the obvious question.

  ‘So…TCFCTSI?’

  Geoff nodded vigorously. Although he must have been asked this question hundreds of times, he clearly wasn’t tired of giving the answer. ‘That, my dear, would be The Charity for Career Threatening Sports Injuries.’

  I tried my best to suppress a laugh. ‘Right. I see.’

  ‘Now, I know what you’re going to say,’ Geoff continued, ‘that we lack the gravitas of the likes of Oxfam, the British Heart Foundation, and the Red Cross.’ His voice dripped venom as he spoke of his rivals. ‘But let me set you straight, life is no picnic for those lads and lasses with ruptured ligaments and worn tendons.’ He wagged a finger in my general direction, ‘and don’t get me started on golfer’s knee.’

  I straightened my face, trying to supress the giggle I felt bubbling up. ‘Golfer’s knee,’ I said, ‘tragic.’

  ‘Quite,’ Geoff said, tutting.

  Auntie Lou managed to drag her eyes away from Fifty Shades. She rolled them at Geoff’s earnestness. Then, not breaking my gaze, she tossed the banana skin over her left shoulder, where it landed with astonishing accuracy in a small round bin. She gave me a toothless grin and went back to reading her smutty paperback. Auntie Lou was a badass!

  I spied a cluster of clothes rails to my left and made a move towards them. ‘There we are,’ I said. ‘Women’s clothes. I’ll just have a quick look if that’s all right?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Geoff, following me closely. Bloody hell, Geoff, I thought, give a girl some space. ‘Take all the time you need. As you can see, we have garments for every occasion.’

  I grabbed several items off the rails.

  ‘Is there a changing room I could use?’

  ‘There to your right,’ he said. ‘I think you’ll find it meets your requirements.’

  I retreated into it and drew the curtains firmly closed behind me. Slipping out of my ropey attire, I ran through several costume changes, admiring myself shamelessly in the mirror.

  I used to be something of a charity shop addict before I met Phil. It was a style that Phil claimed to like – ‘very boho’ – although he soon put a stop to it, buying me an entire new wardrobe from the same expensive boutiques frequented by his friends’ wives and girlfriends. When I’d suggested that this was a bit over the top, he’d answered, ‘Come on now, Goose. You want to fit in, don’t you?’

  As if that was ever going to happen. But I let it go, as usual. It actually felt pretty good to let my own tastes run riot, however quirky. The only problem was that, even though the clothes were fairly cheap, the total was still considerably more than I wanted to spend. I felt a twinge of anxiety about delving into my paltry savings. Well, I couldn’t live for a month in a soiled skirt suit and Alex’s old T-shirt. I had to suck it up.

  I swished through the curtains clutching my spoils and made for the counter, hoping to sweet talk Geoff into a discount. Geoff stood behind it, waiting expectantly.

  ‘You found something then?’ he said. ‘I knew you would.’ He eyed me sternly as he said this, as though I might have been busy spreading rumours to the contrary. ‘Very few customers ever leave here empty-handed.’

  I put the clothes down and smiled at him hopefully. ‘I don’t suppose you could drop the price a little?’

  He looked at me aghast, as though I had just suggested we rob a bank together. Bonnie and Clyde – Daisy and Geoff – it had a certain ring to it.

  ‘I’d like to, young lady. I really would. But if word got out…well, everyone would want a discount, wouldn’t they? You see my problem?’

  ‘Um…no…’

  ‘Look on the bright side,’ he said. ‘Our nation’s proud sportsmen and woman will be thankful for your help.’

  Given the wretched state of my finances, this wasn’t much of a consolation.

  A high, creaky voice interrupted our negotiations.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, lad. Just call it a tenner.’

  We both looked over at Auntie Lou, who looked back, her expression brooking no argument. She nodded her head with an air of finality. ‘Yup, a tenner should do it.’

  ‘But Auntie Lou…’ Geoff said, his voice rising by an octave. She lifted an eyebrow and left it there, until Geoff backed down with a humph. Auntie Lou was a lady of few words, but when she spoke, it obviously counted.

  Shaking his head, Geoff began to fold the pile of clothes I’d dropped on the counter, taking longer, I felt, than was strictly necessary. Once he’d finished, he popped them in a bag for me. I handed over a ten-pound note, which he took with the tips of his fingers like it was a poisonous scorpion.

  ‘That’ll be five pence for the bag, please.’ I handed over a five pence piece and he dropped it into the till victoriously. Whatever gets you through the day, Geoffrey, I thought.

  I practically bounced out of the shop. I hadn’t done much for the nation’s injured athletes, admittedly, but I’d never haggled successfully before. Even with Auntie Lou’s intervention, it felt like a minor triumph.

  ‘Thank you, Auntie Lou,’ I said as I was leaving. She raised a hand in acknowledgement but didn’t look up from the smut.

  Eighteen

  After returning to my little attic room. I had a marathon soak in the tub, topping up with hot water until I was more pruney than Auntie Lou. I’d told Phil I was staying in a swishy hotel, in the lap of luxury, and that’s how it felt for the moment. I’d never lied to him before. Okay, maybe the odd fib – I wasn’t a saint – but nothing on that scale. Right at this moment, I couldn’t have felt less guilty.

  At seven on the dot, dressed in a cute little denim romper and green T-shirt that matched the colour of my eyes, I entered the kitchen, fully refreshed. Alex was already there and just about ready to serve dinner. He turned and studied me admiringly.

  ‘Wow. Look at you. New threads, I see.’

  ‘New-ish,’ I said, taking a seat at the wooden table.

  ‘You discovered the joys of TCFCTSI then?’

  I laughed at the recent memory. ‘Boy, did I ever.’

  ‘Geoff on good form, was he?’

  ‘They make quite the double act, him and Auntie Lou.’

  Alex gave the pan a shake and tipped out some more of those little Italian dumplings I remembered from before.

  ‘I had some ingredients left over,’ Alex said. ‘So I’ve rustled up a new batch. I thought you might like to try them.’

  ‘I told you,’ I said, ‘there’s no need to go to so much trouble.’

  Alex ladled a rich tomato sauce on top of the gnocchi.

  ‘I love doing this,’ he said, ‘cooking for friends.’ I beamed; we were friends now then.

  ‘Every so often I have everyone over to the cottage and lay a big spread on.’

  ‘I bet that makes you popular.’

  Alex grinned. ‘More popular than usual, that’s for sure.’

  Approaching the table, he set down two bowls of the most delicious perfect, plump and golden-brown gnocchi, smothered in home-made tomato sauce, basil leaves and toasted pine nuts.

  ‘Here you go, tuck in. There’s a dish of Parmesan right there next to you.’

  Surveying the feast, I shook my head in wonder. ‘I thought these things were supposed to put you off your food—upset, misery, heartache. Personally, I seem to be going in the opposite direction. If I keep on at this rate, I’ll be round as a blimp.’

  ‘Hardly,’ Alex said, ‘anyway, let’s get back to the misery and heartache part. What lurks behind this woman of mystery? I think it’s time you filled me in.’

  Woman of mystery! I almost choked on my gnocchi. One popped out of my mouth and down
my new top. ‘Oops,’ I said, rooting around my cleavage. ‘Gotcha.’ I considered the rebel piece of gnocchi for a moment and then stuck it back into my mouth.

  ‘Um, you might want to clean up a little bit,’ Alex said, gesturing in the general direction of my cleavage with a paper napkin. I took it primly and dabbed at myself.

  Watching me do this, Alex burst out laughing, which set me off as well. Whatever air of mystery I’d managed to cultivate, there was sod all of it left.

  Quietening down finally, Alex assumed a more thoughtful expression. ‘Seriously though, Daisy, what are you doing here? What is it you’re running from?’

  I dabbed my mouth with the napkin, buying myself time, wondering how much of this I should share with a relative stranger.

  ‘A troubled relationship,’ I told him.

  ‘Ah. Yes. That would do it,’ Alex said.

  I nodded, swallowing hard.

  ‘Well, the worst is over at least. Although I’m sure it doesn’t feel that way right now. At least you’ve managed a clean break.’

  I shook my head. ‘Actually, it’s just on hold for now. We’re going to try to work things out at the end of the month.’

  ‘Oh. Right. I see.’ Did I see a flicker of disappointment cross Alex’s face? If so, it was gone the next moment.

  ‘So why the time-out, Daisy, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  I blew out a deep breath as the reasons why came flooding back.

  Alex held his hands up apologetically. ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I’ve pried enough already.’

  I slumped in my seat.

  ‘I caught him with someone else.’ There, I’d said it.

  ‘And this was yesterday?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Daisy, that’s awful.’

  ‘At least you have a better idea why I was acting so…loony tunes.’

  Alex speared a few gnocchi with his fork and chewed them thoughtfully. Then he looked up from his plate. ‘And you’ve decided to give him a second chance after catching him in the act?’