Sunshine at Daisy's Guesthouse

by Lottie Phillips

  ‘Wow, you two really hit it off, didn’t you?’

  ‘Not really,’ Daisy said. ‘It’s what happens when you’re in love. You just act on emotion.’ She smiled. ‘Bit like you and James.’

  Annabelle smiled at Daisy in the reflection of the mirror. ‘Yes, we are a match made in heaven, aren’t we? And now that you’re with Alistair, James and I can get on with our plans.’

  Daisy’s head reeled. ‘Plans?’

  ‘Well, we talked about travelling together and so on.’

  ‘Right.’ Daisy was tempted to slap her but she was interrupted by the sound of keys in the door and then, before she had managed to debate another escape route, there stood James. He looked at Annabelle in her towel and Daisy, who was frozen to the spot. He smiled softly at Daisy.

  ‘I… I…’ she stammered. ‘I came to…’ She looked desperately around her and spotted his post on the side. ‘To bring your post in.’

  Her mind was a panic, a blur. Post? What was she bleating on about?

  ‘Thanks,’ he said with a gentle smile. ‘You really didn’t need to come all this way for that.’

  ‘Well, you know me.’ Her voice sounded overly cheery. ‘Always willing to help out where I can.’

  Annabelle sidled up to James and linked her arm through his. ‘Daisy was just telling me how she is definitely dating that man. The Scottish one.’

  James’s face clouded over. ‘Right.’ James’s voice grew stiff. ‘Thanks for picking up the post. You didn’t need to.’

  ‘Well, I was in the area…’ She let out an empty laugh.

  ‘Thanks for popping by.’ Annabelle was practically pushing her out the door. ‘Don’t forget to send an invite to your wedding.’ She guffawed loudly at her own wit.

  And before Daisy had had a chance to explain her lies, the door was shut in her face.

  ‘Charming,’ she muttered, tears falling down her cheeks.

  She got in her car, looked at her phone – there were about twenty missed calls from Tom and Lisa – and then once more at James’s bay window. She just caught a glimpse of Annabelle laughing hysterically.

  ‘Oh Hugh, you idiot,’ she said to thin air, as she angrily changed gears. ‘First you tell me James loves me and then you tell me we could possibly have had children all those years ago.’ She pulled up in ensnarled traffic and hit the steering wheel. ‘I have no idea what to think anymore.’ She choked back more tears. ‘And it was your stupid sodding idea to have this guesthouse. I did it for you and all that’s happened is Annabelle arrived in our lives and a man called Alistair.’ She shook her head. ‘Well, that’s worked out really well.’

  Her phone rang and she put Tom on speakerphone.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, manoeuvring her way onto the M4.

  ‘Daisy! We’ve been so worried about you. Why haven’t you been answering?’ Daisy could hear Lisa and Bob in the background firing questions at Tom to ask her. ‘We spoke to Ali, and he said you’d gone off really upset to London to find James…’ Tom barely drew breath. ‘Then I find him necking some other woman called Clare… What on earth is going on?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ she said and then smiling, ‘but I may have the chance to get pregnant.’

  ‘OK, Daisy Ronaldson, get your sweet ass back home now. We need deeeeetails…’

  She cut the call and joined the fast lane. Daisy desperately wanted to get back to the safety of her friends and the guesthouse.

  Chapter 18

  She breathed a deep sigh of relief as she drove up to the house. It had never looked so inviting. Tom came to the front door and as she made her way up over the stones, he was already asking about a million questions.

  ‘So, wait, you’re not seeing Alistair? Is that why you are so cool about him kissing another woman? And why did you go and see James?’

  ‘Whoa, slow down.’ She took off her coat and slipped off her shoes, dropped her car keys into the basket. ‘One step at a time.’

  She walked through to the kitchen to find Alvin and his guitar, Lisa, Bob and Barbara. Tom pulled up a chair next to Alvin and then five sets of eyes were on her, waiting.

  ‘What?’ she said, knowing full well they wanted every detail but she needed to calm down first, ‘Glass of wine, please?’

  Bob was already up and pouring her a glass of Chablis. She imagined Hugh’s cellar must be pretty empty by now.

  She filled in her audience on everything including Annabelle sitting in James’s entrance hall half naked and her thoughts on hungry sex. They all knew different amounts of what had gone on but none of them knew what she was about to pull out of the bag now.

  ‘So, you know I went to London for answers. Not only about James and how he feels about me but this too.’ She pulled the certificate from the Live Well Clinic and placed it in the middle of the table.

  Tom grabbed it and his eyes widened, Lisa moved behind him and she gasped, even Bob, Barbara and Alvin joined them and from their faces Daisy could tell that they understood the significance of that piece of paper.

  She then left Hugh’s letter on the table and they all read in silence with the occasional ‘bloody hell’, ‘oh my’ and ‘unbelievable’.

  After a few minutes, they all returned to their chairs and looked at her.

  ‘So?’ Lisa said. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to book a consultation at the clinic and see what they say.’ She shrugged, her eyes glassing over with tears. ‘I’ve always wanted children, as you know, but maybe it’s too late. The doctor described me as geriatric and now I’m even older.’ She paused. ‘Would you guys come with me? All of you?’ She glanced at Barbara. ‘You too, darling, if they’ll let you in.’

  ‘We’d be honoured,’ drawled Bob. ‘And we can hide Barbara in a bag. Done it many times before.’

  The others nodded and Tom and Lisa jumped up to give her an all-consuming hug. She felt so grateful in that moment for her beautiful friends. ‘I love you guys.’

  They planted sloppy kisses on her cheeks.

  ‘And we love you,’ Tom said, Lisa nodding her agreement.

  ‘I was also wondering,’ Lisa said, almost shyly, ‘if you’d consider being my maid of honour.’

  Daisy grinned. ‘Um, let me think… yes!’ she squealed. ‘As long as you don’t put me in some shapeless apricot dress just to make yourself look good.’ She gestured the length of her body. ‘Because there’s no need to make this even worse.’

  Lisa laughed. ‘You silly mare.’ She hugged Daisy again. ‘I’m so glad. I thought after what I said to you, you might never forgive me.’

  ‘Lisa, how many times have we fallen out and bounced back. That’s the beauty of friendship over love.’ She glanced at Bob. ‘No offence.’

  ‘None taken, ma’am.’

  She nodded defiantly. ‘OK, I’ll ring the clinic tomorrow.’

  She had a restless night’s sleep debating whether or not she could in fact be a mother. Did she have the energy to chase a toddler? How on earth did anyone go about weaning a baby? Potty training looked like a little person’s version of Tough Mudder. And then, could she really do this without a man? Without Hugh.

  She rang at 8 a.m. on the dot and a very efficient secretary answered.

  ‘Good morning. The Live Well Clinic, London. How may I help you?’

  ‘Um,’ Daisy hesitated despite having rehearsed her opening gambit all night. ‘Well, you see, my husband.’ She paused. ‘Well, actually, he’s dead now.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ the woman said. ‘I am sorry to hear that.’

  ‘Well, it was a long time coming…’

  Silence.

  ‘No, that makes it sound like I did him in.’ Daisy laughed self-consciously. ‘He died of natural causes, well, cancer and I’m not sure how natural that is…’

  Silence.

  ‘Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, I’m here? Can I help you in some way?’

  ‘Yes, I just found a certificate from your clinic wit
h legal signatures which says he, my dead husband, froze his sperm years ago and I’d like to use them.’ She was rambling. ‘I mean, not all of them. Well, you know as many as it takes for it to work.’

  ‘Well, you’re best placed to talk to our consultant who can talk through your individual case.’ Daisy could hear her tapping on her computer. ‘Can I get your last name and a reference number?’

  ‘Ronaldson.’ Then she reeled off a number in the corner of the certificate. ‘Crikey, if that’s in numerical order that’s a lot of the little swimmers in your bank.’

  The lady laughed. ‘It isn’t in order but we certainly are kept busy.’

  After Daisy had agreed that she could make a now cancelled slot that afternoon, she put the phone down and hit her forehead. Why did she always feel the need to talk through silence and dig herself hole after hole?

  Daisy messaged Tom and Lisa, despite them being at the bottom of the garden, and they both texted back with smiley faces and she heard shouting and whooping. Tom also sent an image of a fish with the words, ‘they don’t have a sperm emoji on my phone so this will have to do.’

  After a frantic five-hour car journey that felt like a university road trip to London, she was sandwiched between Lisa and Tom in a sterile clinic with not a hint of ‘baby’ about the waiting room. She supposed they had to be sensitive to people’s feelings. Bob held Lisa’s hand, Barbara’s head poked out of a duffel bag and Tom, thinking he was being subtle, kept brushing fingers with Alvin.

  After ten minutes or so, a man in his sixties wearing a very sharp suit came out to greet her. ‘Mrs Ronaldson?’ He peered over his spectacles.

  ‘Yes.’ She stood, wiping her clammy hand on her skirt before she shook his firm grasp.

  ‘Hi, I’m Dr Neilson. Do follow me.’ The consultant moved towards a hall and turned back to ask Daisy something. ‘And how…’ His eyes surveyed her entourage. ‘Sorry, I think it’s best if I talk to Mrs Ronaldson alone, initially at least.’

  Daisy turned and gave them the nod and the gang trooped back to the waiting room.

  As she was invited to sit in the chair opposite the doctor, she apologised for her friends. ‘I was nervous, you see. So I asked for their support.’

  Dr Neilson laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve had all sorts in this clinic. Had one family who arrived with the Jeremy Kyle television crew.’ He smiled gently. ‘I totally get the need for support. It’s a hard decision and as I’m going to explain to you, I believe in total honesty, and there is no certainty the procedure will work.’

  ‘No,’ Daisy said quietly, nibbling her lower lip, ‘but I had thought there was no chance of me having a child at all and now there is a small one.’ She pushed down the lump in her throat. ‘I’ll take that chance.’

  ‘And you’ve clearly got a good support network around you.’ He put down his specs. ‘Do you mind me asking if you’re in a relationship?’

  She felt a nervous giggle flutter up into her throat. ‘Um, no.’

  ‘And have you received grief counselling?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head adamantly. ‘Why would I want to talk about it with a stranger?’

  ‘Because depending on how you’ve dealt with your husband’s death, sometimes it’s good to talk through the mixture of emotions that come with grief.’ He smiled kindly. ‘It’s not a bad thing or a criticism.’

  ‘No, I know.’ She realised she was getting defensive. ‘But I’ve dealt with it by talking to Hugh. That was my husband. I go to his study and I’m sure he can hear me.’

  The doctor raised a brow.

  ‘I’m not nuts,’ she said resolutely. ‘It’s just that’s how I cope. Believing he can see and hear what I do.’

  Dr Neilson nodded.

  ‘And James, that’s Hugh’s best friend, has been amazing, though he’s moved back to London now.’

  ‘And you’re OK with that?’

  ‘Well, I miss him but I’m fine really.’ She looked at his desk. ‘Yes, fine.’

  ‘Well, as you are older, this of course reduces chances of success but it’s by no means impossible.’ He jotted something down in her notes. ‘Now there is a lot of paperwork, and of course legally we have to verify various aspects but should this all run without a hitch, I am more than happy to act as your consultant.’ He smiled. ‘If you wish to go ahead?’

  ‘Yes, yes please.’ She couldn’t stem the flow of tears.

  He offered her a tissue. ‘I know, it’s such an emotional time and, in your case, even more so I imagine.’

  ‘You’re so kind,’ she sniffed loudly. ‘Can you stop being so kind, it makes me cry?’

  He chuckled. ‘Well, I’d be pretty rubbish at my job if I didn’t care.’

  She gratefully accepted another tissue.

  ‘So I’m going to have to get quite personal in regards to your cycle and I need you to keep a diary because every month we actually only have twenty-four hours when we can inseminate vaginally.’ He nodded. ‘On the other hand, and I would suggest this as it’s better for your age group, we could go down the IVF route.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘Your eggs are surgically removed, injected with semen in a laboratory and the embryo is reinstated back in your womb in the hope that it grows and develops.’

  ‘It sounds…’ She tried to find the word. ‘Intrusive.’

  ‘Yes, I have heard other women say this… I can tell you that we have performed this procedure countless times. You are in safe hands with us.’

  Daisy nodded. ‘I just know I couldn’t not know… does that make sense?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ The doctor put down his spectacles. ‘I always say that I cannot answer the emotional side, only you can do that but we can provide you with first class care.’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ She was sure of her decision. ‘I know that I want to do this. I couldn’t live with myself for not trying, and I’ve always wanted children.’ Her eyes blurred with tears. ‘Always.’

  He nodded. ‘Well, firstly we will put you on a drug to encourage your body to develop multiple eggs and then a synthetic hormone to prevent them from being released too early.’

  ‘Crikey,’ Daisy nodded, what she was about to undertake dawning on her.

  ‘Then you’ll have to visit us here every few days so that we can check your blood hormone levels and use ultrasound to monitor your ovaries.’

  She pulled a face.

  He looked at her. ‘I know it sounds very clinical but it’s my job to give you a full idea of what you can expect. You have to remember why you want to undertake the procedure.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said resolutely.

  After he had explained about the trigger shot, the gathering of the eggs and fertilisation, she felt exhausted but despite the information overload her confidence in her decision hadn’t wavered.

  In fact, as the crew drove back to Gloucestershire in two cars, she excitedly told her passengers of Tom and Alvin about what the consultant had told her.

  Tom blew a low wolf whistle. ‘Makes you feel sorry for cattle now, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Huh?’ Daisy looked at him in the rear-view mirror; she had already spotted him holding Alvin’s hand. ‘Cattle?’

  ‘Yeah, darling, you know,’ Tom chuckled. ‘Intensive farming and all that when they inseminate the cows.’

  Daisy smiled. She thought about her mother and father who had always refused to go down that route, believing instead in nature taking its course. If she was now being compared to a heifer, she was grateful for science and the chance to have a child but, yes, maybe he had a point – if it was a regular occurrence and you were stuck in a field with a load of other heifers.

  ‘Just wait until I tell my mother,’ she said as she pulled off the motorway. ‘That is going to go down like a lump of lead. Not only did she believe Hugh came from a different class to me, she would never ever think having a child without him around would be a good idea.’

  ‘Well, when you compare it to farming, she
might be alright about it,’ Alvin offered unhelpfully.

  ‘You clearly haven’t met my mother.’

  They drove the remainder of the journey in silence, Daisy musing over what the future might hold and Tom whispering in Alvin’s ear and making him giggle like a little schoolboy. Daisy could not remember seeing Tom this smitten with anyone since that older gentleman at university. If she remembered rightly his name had been Alfred and he had adored Tom, treated Tom like a king. He was a fine-looking man, with impeccable dress sense and they shared a love of leopard print and interior design. They were a match made in heaven despite the twenty-five-year age gap. But, then, one day, Tom was in town with Alfred when a woman appeared out of nowhere demanding to know why they were holding hands. Alfred introduced Tom to his wife and that was the last Tom ever saw of Alfred. It took him a good few months to get over that relationship, and she had always believed that he had never fully given his heart away again. Plenty of flings, but nothing serious. She caught sight of them again in the rear-view mirror. Perhaps until now.

  She drove through the gates of the house and lo and behold, as if her mother had some incredible psychic power, she was sat in the front garden. Daisy tried to judge her mood as she got out of the car. It was impossible as her mother always scowled, even when she was happy, it was the natural lie of her features. Today, tomake matters worse, she was wearing sunglasses. It was like playing Russian roulette, only with a quick-tongued mother instead of a gun. Actually, as she approached, she was thinking a gun might be the easier option.

  ‘Hello, Mum,’ she said with forced cheeriness.

  Her troops, including Lisa, Bob and Barbara who drove up and parked behind Daisy’s car, all filed into the house giving her mother the odd hello and wave.

  ‘Where have you all been? On some jolly on a Monday? Don’t you know Mondays are for working?’

  ‘Yes, but we haven’t got anybody staying tonight,’ she said smoothly, ‘other than those on a permanent board basis like Bob and possibly Alvin.’

  ‘Who’s Alvin?’

  ‘Tom’s new man.’ Daisy tried to catch a glimpse of her mother’s eyes behind her reflective sunglasses.