Sunshine at Daisy's Guesthouse

by Lottie Phillips

  It was a text message from James, her and Hugh’s best friend. Her heart lifted. She enjoyed any contact with their oldest and closest friend.

  Hi Daisy, hope you’re doing OK. Can I pop by later with something? I think it’s time I gave it to you. Maybe 4ish? J X

  She was surprised, having seen James many times since the funeral; she couldn’t imagine what he might want to give her.

  ‘It’s James,’ Daisy said, and she read the text aloud. ‘He wants to give something to me.’

  Lisa snorted and arched a brow. ‘Sorry, I mean, a bit forward, don’t you think?

  Daisy giggled. ‘Lisa, your mind belongs in the gutter!’

  ‘Got you to smile again though.’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe it’s something of Hugh’s. James mentioned before he had some old photos, didn’t he?’

  Daisy furrowed her brow. ‘But he says “it’s time I gave it to you”. I mean that does not sound like a bunch of photos, does it?’ She smiled. ‘James was amazing throughout those last years with Hugh, not sure how I would have coped without him. All of you.’

  ‘Well, let’s get going then as there’s only one way to find out. And Daisy?’ Lisa slid her hand across the table, clasping her friend’s. ‘Listen, we’re all here for you, however you want us to be. OK?’

  Daisy smiled. Lisa stood and looked at her watch. ‘I’ll drive you back home then head onto work.’

  Chapter 2

  Daisy was grateful when they pulled off the M4 and away from the madness of Bristol. There had been a time when she loved nothing more than heading into the city with her friends or Hugh and soaking up the buzz of the cosmopolitan hubbub.

  Now she couldn’t cope with it. She wanted to scream at everyone that they were being too noisy, too energetic, too alive. The countryside was quieter, allowed her to think, enabled her to remember Hugh properly, although Lisa believed she needed to make new memories. As she had pointed out, she was just fine with the ones she had. It was all she had, and she didn’t want to let go of them – but was it time?

  Lisa drove quickly in her convertible, top down even though it really hadn’t warmed up enough, towards Atworth where Daisy lived – had lived – with Hugh. Hugh had become an incredibly successful banker and bought an enormous manor house on the outskirts of the village. Daisy had never, growing up, imagined she would live and own such a glorious pile with its creamy sandstone walls, and ivy and wisteria creeping ever higher up to the tiled roof. The front garden alone was so picturesque it often took her breath away to this day, with its aged stone benches and cherub spouting water into the lake. It was actually just a big pond but Tom, her other best friend, said it was a lake. He was quite sure of it.

  ‘A pond, Daisy darling, is the size of the paddling pool we had in our student house, yours could take a rowing boat. Catch my drift?’ To which he fell about laughing at his own wit.

  The back garden was sublime. Wild roses and an oak tree that Hugh adored. He would often sit for hours at a time on the weekends (he was rarely around in the week), reading his Financial Times and snoozing. He never knew but Daisy used to watch him and fall in love with him all over again. Hugh had worked so hard to buy the house and to keep her in a lifestyle that her own mother, a farmer’s wife, had thought was too grand for the likes of her daughter.

  ‘Well, Daisy, don’t forget it’s was me and your father putting our hands up sheep’s asses that allowed you to go to university, you hear? Don’t you ever forget your roots.’ She had a strong Gloucestershire accent – you could almost smell the grass and taste the cheese when you listened to her.

  They drove up to the house and Lisa turned the ignition off.

  ‘I’m afraid I have to go and feed the red-trousered folk of Cirencester.’ She pulled a face. ‘So that should mean an evening of over the top laughter and women claiming the crudités are “so filling, darling, couldn’t eat another morsel”, and then the men will drink their whisky and talk golf and skiing.’ She laughed. ‘It’s a joy.’

  Daisy smiled. ‘You know, I feel your luck is about to change.’

  Lisa giggled. ‘Why, have you found me some rich banker friend? Because if you have, I don’t even care what he looks like.’ She snorted. ‘You know it’s best to have sex in the dark anyway. You just imagine they’re George Clooney, job done.’

  Daisy grinned and got out of the car. ‘You, Lisa Davidson, are my best friend and a gem.’ She paused and indicated the length of Lisa’s body. ‘You have kept in such good shape and look great, Tom is probably one of the best-looking gay men on planet earth, James is just,’ she smiled, ‘lovely… and I’ve… got a good sense of humour.’

  ‘Good sense of humour?’ Lisa shrieked with laughter. ‘That’s what fat people say when they’re advertising themselves on dating sites.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Daisy winked. ‘don’t forget I’m bubbly too.’

  Daisy was suddenly hit by the fact she hadn’t said anything about Hugh. For a second, she felt quite breathless – maybe she was beginning to move on.

  ‘And Hugh,’ Daisy said quickly, looking up at the sky, ‘is up there looking down at us.’

  ‘Thinking, James is a dish, Lisa’s still a complete loser, Tom is over the top, and I love Daisy.’

  Daisy’s eyes teared up. ‘Oh God, get out of here before I cry again. My mother always told me not to make a scene and look, I now spend my life making scenes.’

  ‘Bye, beautiful lady. I’ll ring you tomorrow. Find out what James has up his sleeve.’ Lisa started up the car and swung it around, speeding out the drive, a cloud of dust behind her.

  It amazed Daisy to this day that Lisa was still single. She was gorgeous, fun and flirty. Wasn’t that what men wanted? In fact, Daisy used to be like that herself but marrying Hugh so young meant she had felt comfortable early on. Even as she piled on the pounds, he loved her and she felt good for it. In fact, he would often encourage her love of baking. She was not good at it but he always politely and solemnly tried her day’s bake. Lisa and Tom often tried it too.

  Hugh’s reaction would be, ‘Darling, that is marvellous.’

  Lisa and Tom, however, would be stood behind him pretending to put their fingers down their throats and then come up all smiles. ‘Yes, darling, it is… words just can’t describe it!’ James would just give her that look, a look she had never been able to describe, and smile at her.

  Hugh did over time learn to relax around her other university friends and it had felt like they belonged to a club. They would, especially in the last two years of Hugh’s life, when he would have periods of being very tired, help each other prepare kitchen suppers and then dance and drink to whatever tunes were on the radio. It had been oddly perfect when she could forget about the future, about what would happen, about what did eventually happen over a year ago.

  She reckoned grieving (she hated that term) would have been easier if they had had children but they didn’t try for the longest time. They didn’t want to break their happy bubble, however, she had always lived with a nagging feeling that they should have been trying for children. But then she had convinced herself that it was okay to be an older mum and what was the rush? Plenty of women were having children in their late thirties and early forties. Despite her doctor telling her she was geriatric when it came to having children, even three years ago.

  ‘Jesus,’ she had said to Dr Sawyers. ‘I am not geriatric, I’m in my prime.’

  Dr Sawyers nodded sagely, his plethoric face not looking up from his notes. ‘You may be having the time of your life.’ He paused. ‘But your ovaries are not.’

  With that, aged thirty-nine she told Hugh they had to go at it like rabbits. Admittedly some of the romance was taken out of the moment with statements like that but this was a matter of urgency; a time bomb no professional could disarm. She had to get pregnant.

  Only, as if Sod had laid down his law, a month later Hugh found out he had terminal cancer. Suddenly she didn’t want children, she just wanted to spend every moment
she could with her husband. He would become so tired and immobile, that she couldn’t bear to watch. They hugged and kissed like each day was their last together but children were soon swept from her mind. That wasn’t to say she didn’t wish she could keep a part of Hugh here, with her, but she was consumed with guilt about bringing children into the world under those circumstances.

  Daisy was abruptly brought out of her reverie by the sound of another car coming up the drive and realised she hadn’t actually moved since Lisa left.

  James, in his Maserati, roared up to where she stood and hopped out. He walked quickly over to her and took her in a warm, comforting hug.

  ‘Daisy, how you doing?’ He eyed her bag. ‘Been out shopping? That’s good.’

  She wanted to point out that she was still able to dress herself, eat and move. Hugh’s death hadn’t taken those facilities from her, but she knew, deep down, he was just being kind and she was being entirely unreasonable. She always wanted to look like a strong woman around James, when in fact, right now, she wished he would just hug her again.

  ‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘Lisa thought it was a good idea to go to the shopping mall in Bristol. She bought jeans which make her already stunning body look more… stunning.’ Daisy smiled. ‘I, on the other hand, was beached on the shore of Levi’s Land and decided make-up was probably a better bet for someone like me. Oh, and wide trousers.’

  He laughed, his kind eyes lighting up, but when Daisy’s eyes fell to what looked like an envelope in his hand, he immediately stopped and grew seemingly tense.

  ‘What did you want to give me, James?’ She almost dared not to ask. ‘Is it that envelope?’

  She heard his breath catch. ‘Yes.’ He indicated to the house. ‘Shall we go in? Only I think it’s best if you’re sitting down.’

  She nodded in agreement, her heart quickening. They walked towards the solid oak front door. She opened her bag and found the key. Daisy didn’t like to open the door when she had company; the dull ache she felt every time she realised Hugh wouldn’t be there made her feel quite light-headed.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  She felt James’s hand on her arm, warm and firm.

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured, a lump in her throat. ‘I just find certain things a bit hard still.’ She looked up at James who nodded and bit his lip; almost as if he was dreading showing her whatever was in that envelope. ‘Let’s go through to the kitchen, have a cup of tea.’

  She felt happiest there and, at this time of year, she could see the snowdrops scattered across the lawn.

  As she busied herself filling the kettle and placing it on the Aga, James sat and nervously handled the envelope.

  ‘So anything new?’ She knew it hadn’t been easy for him either, losing both a best friend and colleague. ‘Any girlfriend on the scene?’ She always asked this, braced for him to one day confirm he was seeing someone. She could only describe the feeling as jealousy but why should she be jealous of James loving another woman? They were just friends…

  ‘Nothing new.’ James’s face grew grim. ‘I miss him at work, the whole place changed after Hugh’s death. It’s probably as it always has been but I can’t even look at the water cooler without thinking about him. I know he wasn’t there for quite big chunks of time towards the end anyway but just knowing that…’ His voice trailed off. ‘Well, I don’t need to explain it to you.’

  She turned and appraised James. He looked older, with deeper lines around his eyes, since Hugh’s death, but he was still as rugged and gorgeous as ever. She and Hugh had always joked that he should have been a model and not hidden away in the world of banking.

  ‘No,’ Daisy agreed and put a mug of steaming tea in front of him. ‘You have every right, though, to feel as cut up as I do. Anyone who knew Hugh does.’ Daisy smiled tenderly at James. ‘You know he had such a great effect on so many people’s lives. And he could, also, be the most boring old fart on two legs.’

  James barked out a laugh and then grew self-conscious as though he felt he shouldn’t allow himself to be happy.

  ‘Laugh, James, when you can. We are allowed to laugh.’ Daisy had no idea when she had become such an expert but maybe she was beginning to come through some initial phase of grieving. She was paraphrasing the book she had been given by Tom: Stop Crying and Pull Yourself Together.

  Tom had presented it with such a flourish she hadn’t had the heart to tell him that the title was a bit harsh. That being said, she had actually read it and it had made her laugh aloud so, who knew, maybe it worked?

  ‘In fact,’ she continued, ‘I was talking to Lisa today about… moving on.’

  He raised his brows. ‘Moving on? As in…’

  ‘Yes, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life by myself.’

  ‘Hmm.’ He nodded, sipping fast at his tea. He then pushed the envelope across to her.

  ‘It’s a letter.’ He averted his eyes. ‘If you say you’re ready to move on, maybe I was right in thinking I should give it to you today…’

  She nodded.

  ‘From Hugh,’ he went on.

  Her heart skipped a beat and her mind went into overdrive. Had he been having an affair and now had countless children – the children they’d never had – with another woman or more? Had he decided to leave his money to someone else, was his will a joke?

  She put a cool hand to her forehead and breathed deeply.

  ‘Are you OK?’ James asked, suddenly by her side. ‘It’s not actually bad, if that’s what you’re worried about. He just asked me to give it to you when maybe you felt a bit stronger.’ He gave a small shake to his head, and pushed it at her again. ‘Sorry, I’m making it sound awful. Just read it.’

  Slowly, Daisy picked up the envelope, her hand visibly shaking, and with her forefinger, she sliced through the top. The sight of Hugh’s handwriting even on the envelope was like a warm, comforting hug and she drew out a piece of manila paper, the very kind that Hugh had kept in a small pile on his desk. His neat and precise writing filled the page. She brought the letter up to her nose, hoping to smell him but there was nothing.

  James excused himself, told her he would be by the oak tree when she wanted him. He took his mug and left her alone.

  Chapter 3

  My dearest Daisy,

  Firstly I want to tell you I love you. You are my world, my rock, my life.

  I have asked James to give you this letter when I hope the rawness has faded a bit. Even better, maybe you are bloody relieved to have got rid of the boring old sod! Hopefully you are having parties every night and living the life you want and deserve. Keep laughing, I adore the way your nose wrinkles when you laugh, I adore the way you sometimes laugh so hard, there isn’t a sound! How is that possible?!

  I am writing this in the present tense because I’m still here for you but that being said, I want you to have fun, live life to the full, and maybe, hopefully, find love again.

  I only have one wish because really this was our wish. We dreamt and often talked about setting up a bed and breakfast at Atworth Manor. I know you’re thinking you won’t do it without me. You’re stubborn like that. Try it though. For me? See what adventures it brings you. I have left you, as you will know by now, the house and everything that ever belonged to me. If you want to follow our dream, I am there with you every step of the way.

  James knows about our dream and says he will help in any way he can. He wants to be there for you, to look out for you. Please let him, he’s a good man.

  Keep this letter and read it when you feel like you can’t do something. You can, Daisy Ronaldson, you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever had the honour of knowing and I still can’t believe you said ‘yes’ in Amsterdam.

  Say ‘yes’ again, let’s make our wish come true.

  Love and kisses,

  Hugh xxx

  Daisy put down the letter, tears streaming down her cheeks, and tried to breathe through the onslaught of raw emotion threatening to drown her. James entered the room quietly an
d sat down next to her, taking her hand.

  ‘Holy shit, James,’ she said. ‘There was never a right time to give me this, the silly sod.’ She smiled through her tears. ‘And I am not stubborn.’

  She waited, the gasps of her fast breathing the only sound.

  ‘James, have you read it?’ He nodded. ‘You see, the B&B was our dream. Our dream. It was after we watched that couple in France doing up that chateau. I remember we had had a couple of bottles of something Hugh had found in the cellar and we talked like we could do something like that here, in England.’ She snorted with laughter, tears still pooling. ‘But even though we often joked, if we were ever to have done it, it would have been together.’ She looked up once more. ‘Good lord, Hugh Ronaldson makes me angry. Why does he lay this idea at my feet and expect me to run with it? I don’t do as I’m told.’ James nodded his agreement with a wry smile on his face. ‘I know, I know, I’ve never done what anyone’s said. Well, there you go, I don’t plan to start now.’

  She looked at James through blurry tears. ‘No offense but I don’t need you to look after me. I’ll be just fine.’ She circled the knots in the wooden farmhouse table with her finger. ‘In fact, maybe, just maybe I’ll move to France and meet some baker and eat croissants for the whole of my life and use that bit of French I vaguely learnt at university. I mean, as you know, James, I have five minutes on Le Front National down pat.’ She giggled. ‘Look, if those two off the telly box can manage, then so could I.’

  She hung her head and let out a long shaky breath. He let her keep talking.

  ‘Shit me, James, why did he do it? Why did he go and leave me? We were meant to be together forever. That was the deal. I even changed the words at our ceremony. Until arguing over house furnishings do us part. Remember?’