Coming Up Roses

by Rachael Lucas

  Jo leaned back against the kitchen counter, taking in the scene, not talking.

  ‘Have you known Elaine a long time?’ Daisy realized it was her turn to make conversation. This was ridiculous. She’d been stuck in Orchard Villa alone for weeks, and she’d forgotten how to talk to anyone who wasn’t over eighty.

  ‘Not at all, no. I do some counselling work at Brockville school once a week – we got talking the other day. My daughter’s got some friends coming round tonight, so it seemed the ideal opportunity to get out and meet some new people. Working full time makes it hard to meet anyone around here.’

  Daisy felt her shoulders relax slightly. Knowing Jo was in the same boat made her feel a bit less like the stand-out new girl in town. She definitely wasn’t getting welcoming vibes from the other four, who had placed themselves on the opposite side of the kitchen island and were guzzling sushi in a manner most unbecoming of people wearing such skinny jeans.

  ‘Well, this is lovely, isn’t it?’ Elaine, seemingly oblivious, smiled at them all. ‘It’s so tricky when we’re all so busy to get people together, isn’t it?’

  ‘So what do you do, Daisy?’ Jacqui (or was it Jane?) asked.

  ‘I’m – well, I’m a gardener.’

  There was a specific type of person who recoiled at the prospect, as if they thought that somehow just associating with a gardener would mean they’d suddenly be covered with greenfly and compost.

  Jane-or-Jacqui was definitely in that bracket. ‘Oh God, all that mud. I couldn’t bear that. Leave it all to my other half. He loves it.’

  ‘I think it sounds wonderful,’ said Jo, kindly. ‘Gardening is so peaceful, don’t you think? Really gives you time to think. It’s quite meditative, really.’

  Daisy shot her a look of thanks. That was just how she felt about her time in the garden. Since childhood, when her dad had given her a plot in their little Oxford garden, she’d escaped outside, hands filthy, never wearing gloves. She could lose hours in the garden, not really thinking about anything at all, and yet whenever she came back in to soak in a hot bath, bone-tired and filthy, she’d realize that her head was somehow clearer and life seemed much nicer. It was free therapy.

  ‘Not my thing.’ Steph sniffed, with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘Give me a day at a spa over grubbing around in the mud any day.’ She stretched out her hands again, admiring her nails. ‘I’m not paying thirty quid a go for shellacs for them to get ruined in a load of old compost.’ She gave a tinkling laugh, and the others joined in.

  Elaine looked at the two factions (that’s exactly what it feels like, thought Daisy – they’re on one side, and Jo and me are on the other) with a slightly alarmed expression.

  ‘Gosh. Yes. Well, different strokes and all that, don’t you agree?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Jo, reaching across and helping herself to another piece of sushi.

  ‘These are delicious, Elaine. And you made them yourself?’

  Jo seemed to have a knack for knowing how to put people at their ease. Daisy watched as Elaine relaxed, stopping her relentless hostessing for a few minutes whilst she explained how to make the sushi rolls, waving her elegant hands in demonstration. It was only Daisy who caught the hissed conversation between the other four as they knocked back yet another jug of mojitos.

  ‘I told Michelle we’d be there by nine,’ said Steph, turning her wrist to check the huge, clearly expensive watch. It glittered, catching the light.

  Jane – or was it Sarah? Daisy still had no idea – popped a handful of sushi, quite openly, into a napkin, twisted it neatly, and popped it into her Mulberry handbag. She caught Daisy’s eye, smirking. Daisy, feeling sorry for Elaine, looked down into her glass. These women were horrible, and Elaine seemed to be completely oblivious.

  ‘Everyone had enough to eat? Gosh – I really ought to have made more sushi.’ Elaine looked at the platters, which were now three-quarters empty, cleared by the four women. With their long skinny legs and arms, Daisy thought, they did look a bit like locusts. She hid a smile at the thought.

  ‘Really sorry, Elaine, but we’ve got to get off.’ Steph, clearly an expert at making a swift exit, picked up her bag.

  ‘But – you’ve only just arrived!’ Elaine’s face fell.

  ‘And you’ve been such an amazing hostess. So sorry we can’t stay later. Michelle’s having a little do in the Grey Mare for some of the PTA mums.’

  ‘Oh, yes, yes.’ As Daisy looked on, Elaine rearranged her features. ‘Yes, of course. Perhaps another time soon?’ Her tone was almost pitch-perfect.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Steph was two seconds from clicking her fingers to summon the others, thought Daisy, as they obediently followed her out of the kitchen. Elaine followed them, gathering coats and calling goodbye from the front step.

  Meanwhile, Daisy leaned back against the kitchen worktop with relief, popping one of the leftover pieces of sushi into her mouth.

  ‘Wow.’

  Jo looked at her, shaking her head. ‘I know.’

  ‘I think we just met the school-gate mafia.’ Daisy poured the remains of the cocktail into Jo’s glass.

  ‘Welcome to Stepford.’ Jo clinked her glass against Daisy’s.

  Chapter Four

  ‘What a shame they couldn’t stay.’

  Daisy avoided Jo’s eye as Elaine walked back into the kitchen.

  ‘Let me get you a drink, Elaine.’ Jo made towards the ice machine on the huge American fridge.

  ‘No, no, you stay where you are. If it’s just us three, let’s go through to the sitting room, shall we? I’ll bring through another drink and some nibbles. It’s just through the hall and second on the left.’ Elaine waved her arm, pointing the way.

  Daisy and Jo followed her direction.

  ‘Here we are.’

  They were now in a huge, yet cosy sitting room. Thick velvet curtains were drawn, and an elegant flower arrangement sat on the fireplace in front of the grate. The sofas were enormous, with neatly arranged throws and pillows scattered around artfully. Elaine came into the room, bottom first, bearing a tray with another jug of mojitos and some little bowls filled with savoury biscuits, which Daisy realized were home-made. After lighting some scented candles, Elaine finally sat down.

  ‘Your house is so beautiful.’ Jo looked around, admiringly.

  ‘Oh, well,’ said Elaine, looking pleased. ‘It’s my job, as well as my life. And Leo and I like the place to look good.’

  ‘I had a look at your website,’ Daisy said, slipping off her shoes and curling her feet up underneath her on the sofa. ‘It’s amazing.’

  ‘The Americans love all that Old England stuff,’ explained Elaine, motioning to the antique stoneware which filled the shelves on either side of the fireplace.

  ‘So Daisy, d’you want to explain exactly how you soaked Elaine?’

  It was Daisy and Elaine’s turn to look at each other and laugh. With the other women gone, Elaine seemed to have loosened up a bit. She filled up her glass, echoed Daisy in slipping off her shoes, and sat back on the sofa.

  ‘. . . and so I was going to say no and stay home for another night of red wine and chocolate,’ Daisy continued, the rum having loosened her tongue, ‘but I realized I really ought to get a bit of a life here in Steeple St John, seeing as I’m here for the next few months.’

  ‘And what happens then?’ Elaine asked the question that Daisy didn’t want to answer.

  ‘Honestly?’ Daisy sat forward, propping her chin in her hand, thoughtfully, ‘I have no idea. I’ve got nowhere to go now that –’

  Elaine cocked her head, waiting for the rest of the sentence. Jo, somehow sensing Daisy had said enough, reached forward for the little savouries, offering them to the others.

  ‘Not easy meeting people when you’re single in a town like this, is it?’ Jo gave Daisy a comforting smile. ‘Even harder when you’ve got a teenager who thinks you’re the most embarrassing thing on the planet.’

 
‘You have a teenager? You don’t look old enough!’ Daisy looked more closely at Jo’s face. Surely she couldn’t be more than thirty-five?

  ‘Martha. She’s fourteen. She was born nine months after graduation day. We’ve grown up together, really. She’s lovely, when she’s not awful. Depends on which side of bed she gets out of, at the moment.’ Jo gave a half-frown, clearly visualizing some of her daughter’s finer moments.

  ‘I had no idea. You’ve done it all on your own? Her father’s not around?’ Elaine’s tone was impressed.

  ‘No, he’s . . . we do fine on our own.’

  Elaine reached out a hand in apology. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ said Jo, slightly guardedly. ‘Anyway, when Martha went to nursery, I started doing voluntary work as a Samaritan. By the time she’d started full-time school I began training as a counsellor. I work full time now.’

  ‘And you met Elaine through the school?’ Daisy was piecing together a picture of Jo’s life. It made sense, now, that she was such a peaceful, easy listener. It clearly came naturally. She could imagine her sitting in a therapy room, giving people the space to talk.

  ‘Yes.’ Elaine looked across at Jo. ‘I don’t tend to get involved with the school thing very often – nobody wants the headmaster’s wife poking her nose in all over the place, do they?’ She gave a little laugh. ‘But I had to pop up to drop off Leo’s phone last week, and I met Jo on the way out. We got chatting, and here we are.’

  Jo nodded agreement as Elaine continued, ‘Leo’s very keen that the children and staff at Brockville should be given access to every support available.’ Daisy noticed Elaine glance up at one of the many photos of her husband on the mantelpiece. The whole room was a shrine to their relationship – photographs of the handsome couple lined the shelves, all of which featured Elaine, Leo, or Elaine-and-Leo, in various glamorous locations, smiling out at the camera.

  ‘Pretty impressive to have managed all that as a single mother, Jo.’ Daisy couldn’t help wondering where her own get up and go had disappeared to. Having switched careers and taken the plunge to retrain as a gardener, here she was living in her parents’ house, unemployed and completely single. Jo and Elaine seemed pretty sorted in comparison.

  Jo shrugged off the compliments, pulling back her long blonde hair into a knot as she smiled. ‘Not a big deal, honestly – I know people who have it far harder than I do.’

  ‘I suppose, yes,’ said Elaine, as if the idea had only just occurred to her. Living in this beautiful, huge house, with a doting husband and a successful career, Daisy imagined that it must be pretty hard to imagine how the other half lived. ‘We’re very lucky, really, aren’t we?’ continued Elaine.

  Daisy bit back a pang of envy, taking a sip of her drink. She could feel a wave of self-pity washing over her, remembering how different life had been just a few months back. But things were different now. She really ought to try and make the best of them. She sat up in her chair, balling her hands into fists, telling herself to get a grip. It was always on the third glass of wine – or whatever – that her resolve failed her. Normally around this point she’d have to hide her phone in the bread bin to avoid the temptation to start stalking Facebook, or composing furious texts she wouldn’t send. With company tonight, though, it seemed easier to just put those things to the back of her mind and chat.

  It was another hour before Jo stood up, looking at the carved wooden clock on the wall, saying she really ought to get back to check on Martha.

  ‘I left her at home with a friend watching DVDs and eating pizza. No doubt by now they’ll have dyed the bathroom purple with hair dye and eaten everything in the cupboards.’

  Putting down her glass, Daisy looked up at the time. It was almost eleven, and while she didn’t have anyone waiting at home, Polly would be anxiously pacing the kitchen, ready for an evening stroll.

  ‘It’s been lovely.’ Elaine offered her cheek for a kiss.

  ‘It really has.’ Daisy realized that she actually meant it. Once the mean girls had gone, they’d had a surprisingly nice evening.

  ‘Perhaps we could do it again? A drink at the Grey Mare in a couple of weeks, maybe?’ Jo pulled out her phone from her bag. ‘I’ll take your number, Daisy. Elaine, I’ve got yours.’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  Daisy strolled down Main Street, not noticing the chill in the air, feeling happier than she had in weeks. She popped her head in through the front door, whistling to Polly. ‘Come on, girl, I’ll take you for a quick scoot round the park.’

  Daisy had been heading up to the supermarket, keys in hand, when the doorbell rang the next morning.

  ‘Oh, I’ve caught you on your way out.’ Thomas was standing on the step, a pile of faded notebooks under one arm.

  ‘Just heading up to grab something to eat.’

  ‘Let me give you these, and I’ll walk up to town with you. Just thought I’d give you a head start by passing them on.’

  Thomas handed over the notebooks.

  ‘Have a look through these when you get a moment. It’ll give you some idea of what’s hidden underneath the bindweed and sticky willow.’

  ‘Oh, these are perfect, Thomas, thank you.’ Daisy flipped one open.

  The books, beautifully illustrated with sketches, were inscribed with Thomas’s copperplate writing, alongside copious planting notes.

  He leaned over, tracing a gnarled finger across the page, smiling to himself.

  ‘“September 1955 – Wisteria Sinensis” – that’s the wisteria that covers the front door. I remember the day I planted that. I’d been out the night before playing cards in the Grey Mare and I’d had one too many ales. Got a right telling off from Mrs Smith-Beddoes, the old owner, when I turned up half an hour late to do the garden. She docked five bob off my wages.’

  ‘These are gorgeous, Thomas. They’re going to make my job a lot easier. Thank you.’

  Popping them carefully on the dresser in the hall, Daisy pulled the door behind her and they set off towards the centre of the village.

  ‘I don’t suppose –’ He paused for a moment, looking at her sideways. ‘You wouldn’t fancy keeping me company at the Parish Council meeting, Daisy?’

  Daisy, who could definitely feel the after-effects of last night’s mojitos, wasn’t quite sure she was up to a gathering of village worthies. But Thomas had been so kind, and he looked so sincere . . .

  ‘Oh, okay then.’ Just once. One meeting to tick the box, and she’d wangle her way out of anything more.

  Thomas beamed at her, his tone one of relief. ‘I am glad. I’ve been trying to keep a low profile and not get caught up in village affairs, but when they decided to make a bid for Britain in Bloom, I knew there wasn’t much chance of hiding from Flora.’

  ‘Flora?’

  Thomas shook his head with a smile. ‘Chair of the Parish Council. Head of this, chief organizer of that. She’s – well, you’ll find out. Reminds me in a funny way of my Violet. She doesn’t take any nonsense.’

  They’d arrived at the lane that led down to the village hall. A battered Volvo estate turned the corner and pulled up. Hanging out of the window was the head of a hugely excited brown and white spaniel, barking with excitement.

  ‘Afternoon, Ned.’

  ‘Thomas.’ The driver opened the car door, which creaked alarmingly. Unshaven, with a scruffy jumper on, he climbed out and whistled to the dog, which jumped out and stood to heel, panting.

  ‘Daisy, you’ll not have met Ned. He’s our new vet.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Daisy.’

  Daisy shook his hand. Ned was in his early thirties. He looked like he’d been dragged out of bed, and had thrown on the first things he’d found on the floor.

  Clearly aware of his outfit, Ned looked down at his jumper, which was inside out and covered in pieces of straw. ‘Sorry. Been with a mare who was foaling this morning. Haven’t had a chance to get back.’

  ‘Oh, how lovely. I’d have loved to
be a vet.’ Daisy smiled at him. ‘I was hopeless at science though.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Bit of a tricky one, that.’ Ned pulled a hand through his sandy blond hair, which left it standing on end.

  ‘Ned’s another one who’s been roped in to take part in the committee meeting, haven’t you?’ Thomas explained, kindly.

  Ned rolled his eyes, pulling a face that made Daisy laugh. ‘God, yes. I came up with the idea it’d be good to get a bit more involved in the community, show we’re really part of the village. So the next thing you know, here we are.’

  ‘Try and sound a bit keener, Ned,’ said Thomas, laughing. ‘I’ve just persuaded Daisy to join us. She’s a bit of a gardening expert, y’see. And if there’s three of us who’re new to the committee, there’s safety in numbers . . .’

  ‘Excellent idea. Come and join us, Daisy. We can sit at the back of the class.’

  Ned’s green eyes sparkled at the prospect, making him look more like a teenager up to tricks than a fully fledged vet.

  Somehow the idea of sitting through a boring meeting with Ned and Thomas making her laugh didn’t seem quite so bad. Rumpled and chaotic, Ned had the air of a mischievous overgrown schoolboy. And she couldn’t spend every moment of the next however-many months she was here watching TV and talking to plants.

  Thomas took Daisy’s arm, and the three of them headed in to the village hall.

  An hour later, with a bacon roll wrapped in a paper bag and a takeaway coffee in her hand, Daisy headed back to read the notebooks Thomas had left. The meeting had gone past surprisingly quickly and with Ned and Thomas for company, it had even been quite – well, she wouldn’t go so far as to say fun, but she’d promised she’d go along to the next one.

  Hands full, she was struggling with the keys. She could hear her mobile phone ringing where she’d left it on the dresser in the hall, but the front-door key was sticking again. By the time she got in there was a new voicemail message flashing on the screen.

  Daisy, it’s Elaine. I really hope you don’t mind me calling like this – I know we said we’d get together next week, but I could really do with some help and I’ve got a proposition to put to you. Can you give me a shout when you get this message?