New Beginnings at Wildflower Lock, page 9
That was it. She’d had enough. They’d not driven very far, but Daisy flicked on her indicators and pulled in sharply to the side of the road.
‘Let’s get this clear; we are not talking about Paul this weekend,’ she said, enunciating her words so firmly, she was nearly spitting. ‘We are not talking about me dating this weekend. We are not talking about Theo and whether he’s single or whether he’s my type. We’re not talking about what my type is. We are not talking about anything other than how we get this boat up to selling standard ASAP. Is that clear? Because if it’s not, then you should get out now.’
In the rear-view mirror, Daisy could see Claire shrink into her seat, but deep down, Daisy suspected she thought exactly the same as Bex when it came to Daisy’s love life. She just had the sense not to talk about it in front of her.
‘We just want you to be happy, that’s all,’ Bex said quietly. ‘You’re so great, but you shut yourself off to everybody. I mean it. When was the last time you did anything with anybody new? Went for a cup of coffee with a colleague, or asked somebody at the gym if they want to go for a smoothie?’
‘Since when did I go to the gym?’ Daisy replied. ‘And my workplace isn’t like that. I don’t know why you’re making a fuss. I don’t need new people. I’m happy with my life as it is.’
‘Are you really? Because sometimes I think it’s like your life stopped moving when he left you.’
Something was corkscrewing, tightening, inside Daisy’s chest, although she refused to show it.
‘I don’t need a man to make me happy. I don’t need to swipe right on idiot guys on dating apps to make me feel like I’m living. I don’t comment to you about how you’re dating too many guys or how you’ve been positive that at least the last five are the one, despite the fact we can all tell they’re idiots. I’m just supportive. You know? Like you said, I don’t have many friends. It would be a shame to lose one of them.’
They were harsh words, but it wasn’t the first time she had spoken to Bex like that, or vice versa. The fact was, they were more like sisters. And just like sisters, they knew exactly how to rub each other up the wrong way.
‘I’m sorry. You know I love you,’ Bex said, leaning across the gear stick and wrapping her arms around her.
‘I love you too,’ Daisy huffed.
The pair stayed like that, locked in an embrace for another minute, until a cough from the backseat brought them back to the moment.
As they broke apart, Claire’s head appeared through the gap between the two front car seats.
‘As lovely and emotional as that bonding moment was,’ she said, ‘is there any chance we can get going? This is the first child-free weekend I’ve had in about three months, and I’d prefer it if I didn’t spend most of the time stuck in a car.’
20
‘Another rubbish bag coming through.’
‘Where are we putting old VHSs? There are loads of them.’
‘Unless they look like they’re valuable, bin them,’ Daisy replied.
The day had gone by in a blur. As mundane as clearing out Fred’s old belongings had been before when she was on her own, this was fun. Everything went for a vote with a two-to-one majority deciding whether things should stay or be binned. Two-thirds of the boxes Daisy had kept for further inspection turned out to be full of junk, like old VHS machines and magazines from the nineties. By 5 p.m. the contents of the boat had been whittled down to five large boxes, not including the one with the birthday cards, which Daisy was still avoiding.
Two of these were full of coats and clothes that, while utterly unfashionable, appeared to be in good nick, and she reasoned that a charity shop, or somewhere, might be able to make good use of them. The other two boxes she wasn’t so sure about. There were various tools, which may have been of use to somebody, and other knick-knacks, from binoculars to reels of wire. Along with that, there were still a few cupboards that needed emptying, including the space underneath the bunk beds and a hidden compartment in the steps that was filled with tools.
‘Daisy, come and check this out,’ Claire yelled.
‘One minute. I want to finish clearing these steps out first,’ she called back. She was currently on her knees, digging her hands into a matt of cobwebs, showing a massive degree of bravery.
‘No, you need to come now. You need to come and see this.’
The urgency in her friend’s voice piqued her interest. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she pushed herself on to her feet before heading through to the back of the boat.
Both her friends were standing peculiarly straight beside a large, plastic box while grinning from ear to ear.
‘What, what is it? What have you found? Is it something valuable? Is it a suitcase full of cash? Please tell me you’ve found a suitcase full of cash.’
‘You need to see for yourself,’ Bex said.
‘It’s better than money,’ Claire added.
‘Better than money?’
‘Okay, maybe that is a bit of an oversell. But it does feel like fate.’
Now Daisy really was confused. This boat was throwing her one curveball and then another, but none of it had felt much like fate. Still grinning, her friends stepped aside, giving Daisy room to see inside the box.
‘There’s loads of it.’ Claire was unable to contain her excitement. ‘And this isn’t all of it either. The bedside cabinet is full too. You know better than me what it is, but it looks like there are water colours, acrylics. Loads of paper. Watercolour paper is expensive, right? I remember you saying that before.’
Daisy was only half listening. She had reached into the box and pulled out a small cloth cylinder which was tightly held together by a strip of leather. Even before she undid the buckle and rolled it out, she knew exactly what she was going to find in there.
‘These are even nicer than the ones I had for art college,’ she whispered as she ran a finger along the length of one of the items. She dreaded to think how much they cost, but they’d been stored in absolutely perfect condition. Fine-tip paint brushes, with barely any evidence of use. And, like Claire said, there were loads.
Daisy found another two roll-bags of brushes, all different sizes and shapes, but all of equal quality. If these belonged to Fred, then they really did have more in common than she had thought. She could just imagine herself sitting out on the front deck of the boat in the summer mornings, stroking her brush across the paper. Then again, there was plenty to paint now, in springtime, and it might be even better in winter. She loved painting moody scenes. Maybe she could position the boat somewhere when a storm was coming in, and paint as the rain drummed on the roof above.
‘Daisy? Earth to Daisy?’
She snapped her head back to her friends.
‘Oh,’ she said, suddenly aware that she had drifted off entirely. She glanced down at her hands. The brushes that only moments ago felt full of hope and optimism were now weighing her down. Heavy in her palm. ‘Yeah, good, fine.’ She dropped the brushes back into the box. ‘We should probably make a sell pile for them.’
The girls looked at each other before returning their gaze to Daisy.
‘Maybe we’ll put them in a “keep for now” pile,’ Claire said diplomatically. ‘I mean, if you don’t want them, Amelia would love them.’
‘Great. Great. But we should carry on. I reckon we can get another hour in before it’s too dark to work.’
And with a feeling heavy in her chest, Daisy headed back to beneath the stairs where she’d been clearing out the cobwebs.
Two hours later, work for the day was officially over.
‘I can’t believe you got the electricity to work.’ The women were huddled on the floor, eating cold quiches and couscous salad.
‘It really wasn’t that hard,’ Claire replied. ‘Did you actually look for a plug socket outside?’
‘Why would I have looked outside? I was inside,’ Daisy replied, and the three of them burst into laughter. While Daisy’s inability to think beyond the boat may have been the initial source of the laughter, the sheer exhaustion and two bottles of wine they had drunk between the three of them definitely contributed to its continuation.
‘Turn this song up! Turn this song up!’
Claire was on her feet. ‘You must remember this song. They played it all the time when we were in sixth form. Wave your arms.’
Within moments, Bex was on her feet too, bouncing up and down while Claire bellowed out the wrong words a full tone flat.
‘Please, please stop,’ Daisy heaved, hardly able to breathe through the laughter.
‘No, you need to get up and dance. I’ve never danced on a boat before. I’ve never danced on a boat!’ At that, Claire began hoisting herself up on to the kitchen counter, only to discover there was nowhere near enough headroom to stand and dropped back down.
‘You should not be allowed a child when you’re this irresponsible,’ Bex commented while trying to stop her from toppling forward.
‘I’m not this irresponsible when I have the child with me,’ Claire replied indignantly. ‘Daisy, stop being so boring. Dance with me. Dance with me!’
Groaning, Daisy pulled herself up to her feet. ‘All right, I’m dancing. I’m dancing, but then we’re getting our sleeping bags out and going to sleep.’
‘As long as it’s not a good song on next,’ Claire replied. ‘If it’s a good song, we have to keep dancing.’
21
Daisy’s head hurt. Although on brief contemplation, it wasn’t just her head, and it didn’t just hurt. It pounded. It throbbed like someone had hammered nails into her temples and the base of her skull. Her throat was parched and tasted like she had chewed a loaf of dry, mouldy bread. And her bones. Surely her bones shouldn’t ache as much as they did. She was only twenty-four, but she felt like she was seventy-four. Trying to steady the queasiness that had gripped her, she took a deep breath in through her nose, only to regret it as a wave of nausea struck.
‘Oh my God, I think I’m going to be sick.’ Speaking didn’t help either; her own voice was so loud, it made everything else worse. And she wasn’t the only one who thought so.
‘Why are you shouting?’ Claire groaned, her head hidden inside the sleeping bag. ‘Why is everything so loud? Why is the floor moving? Tell the floor to stop moving.’
From the middle of the room, Bex let out a loud yawn before stretching her arms above her.
‘That was a good night,’ she said, making Daisy groan. Her chirpiness was enough to cause another wave of nausea. ‘Although I didn’t realise what complete lightweights you two are. You know you were asleep before midnight.’
‘Daisy, stop her shouting.’ Claire’s voice was a low hiss. ‘I cannot be held responsible for my actions if she does not stop shouting.’
Daisy wanted to reply that she was 100 per cent on Claire’s side on this matter. Only talking was proving difficult. Her mouth could move, and her brain could just about pull thoughts together, but the task of linking the pair of them was proving more difficult. On the plus side, she had managed to change into her pyjamas before she fell asleep. Not that she could remember doing so. And judging by the dark wine stain on the top of her moon and stars nightshirt, even getting ready for bed hadn’t been enough to stop her drinking. Cradling her head, she let out another long groan.
‘I remember singing,’ she finally managed. ‘Claire, you’re a terrible singer.’
‘And you’ve only just remembered that?’ Bex replied. ‘You, on the other hand, are still infuriatingly talented. That painting you did last night was amazing.’
‘The what?’
The shock of Bex’s words caused Daisy’s eyes to spring open. ‘What do you mean, my painting? I don’t paint any more.’
‘But you did last night. Don’t you remember? You painted a boat.’
Daisy squeezed her eyes shut again as she tried to recall the events of the previous night. She remembered laughing at Claire’s singing. She also remembered Claire getting Bex’s phone to see if Theo was on any of the three hundred dating apps she subscribed to. He wasn’t, although Daisy could recall being slightly disappointed by this, not that she mentioned it to the girls. She couldn’t remember the painting, though. She would definitely have remembered that, wouldn’t she?
Letting her head drop back down, she assumed the comment was merely an attempt to wind her up, but then Claire’s next words disturbed the peace of that thought.
‘Wow. This really is great. I had forgotten how good you were.’
Whatever game they were both playing, Daisy had had enough. She leapt to her feet, only to regret the action. All the blood rushed from her head and she swayed from side to side, as if the boat was out on the open sea, not firmly moored to a stable towpath. With the dizziness still rolling through her, she reached out and grabbed the side of the boat, breathing in for a few moments to steady herself. Only when her head had stopped spinning did she blink her eyes open again, before taking one, then another tentative footstep, over towards the countertop where Claire was standing.
A lump formed in her throat. It wasn’t a large picture – she had torn a piece of paper from one of the A4 pads – and it was a long way from her best work. The drunkenness showed in the wonkiness of her lines, and the poor blending of the watercolours in the sky. But it was a painting of a boat. She had painted for the first time in years. The first time since she had walked out of art college and vowed never again to do something so ridiculous as dream. All those years and she had barely done so much as doodle in the corner of a notebook. And yet, here it was. A full painting. And the girls were right: it wasn’t bad.
‘Maybe you should put it up?’ Bex said quietly. Daisy stepped back, shaking her head.
‘I guess I just wanted to see if these paints still worked, or whether they’d dried out.’ The excuse sounded weak, even to her. Then, on noting the watercolour palette still open on the kitchen counter, she added, ‘We should probably put all that stuff away now too.’
She had at least washed up the paintbrushes and laid them out to dry. Even inebriation couldn’t break that habit.
Twisting her back away from the painting, she turned to the windows, as yet undecided as to whether she was going to head back to her bed and bury her head under the pillow or open the curtains to let in more light and force herself to wake up. But instead, she remained exactly where she was, frowning at the sight in front of her.
At first, she thought it was just her eyes playing tricks on her, or it was a manner in which the light was reflecting as it shone through the glass, but as she took a step closer, she noticed a strange shadow, as if something was stuck to the outside of the window.
Stepping forward, she whipped the curtain open.
‘What are you trying to do to me!’ Claire cried, but Daisy didn’t draw them back. She was staring at the piece of paper that was most definitely stuck to her window, a very familiar envelope.
‘He has to be joking.’
22
While there was a fairly good chance the pit in Daisy’s stomach was caused by the overindulgence in alcohol, something about the letter told her it wasn’t good.
‘Is everything okay?’ Bex asked, as she boiled the tiny travel kettle they had brought with them, but Daisy didn’t stop to reply. She walked outside slowly, taking the steps tentatively to try to lessen the wobble. When she reached the window, she pulled the envelope off. And withdrew the letter from inside.
‘He has to be kidding.’ She didn’t read the entirety of the letter, but she saw more than enough to get her blood pumping. She stumbled backwards with her first clenched. There was no way this was acceptable. Absolutely no way.
‘Daisy?’ Bex called again. ‘Is everything all right?’
Once again, Daisy ignored her, and rather than heading back into the boat, she marched down the length of the September Rose, barely pausing for breath, and headed towards the neighbouring boat. She stepped onto the rear deck and hammered her fists against the glass pane of the door.
‘I know this was you,’ she yelled, her voice loud enough to make her own ears ring. ‘You might as well open up now. I’m not going anywhere.’
She hammered again. And again.
‘Is something up?’
The voice came from behind, causing Daisy to spin around on the spot and nearly lose her balance. Somehow, she righted herself just in time. There, standing on the riverbank, was Theo.
Waving the paper in her hand, Daisy took two strides up the bank towards him.
‘You know exactly what’s wrong,’ she said. ‘This.’ She waved the paper in front of his face, forcing him to take a step back. Frown lines formed across his forehead.
‘Am I supposed to know what this is?’
She would not have thought it possible beforehand, but his complete and utter nonchalance caused her anger to reach an entirely new level.
‘Don’t play innocent with me. I know it’s you. I know this was you.’
While keeping his feet planted in exactly the same spot, Theo reached out and plucked the piece of paper from between her fingers. Slowly, he scanned down the white page. The furrows in his brow lessened slightly, only to be replaced by the smallest twitch on the corner of his lips.
‘I take it you and your friends had a good night?’ He smirked.
‘It’s just petty, you know that? Your behaviour is petty.’
Behind her, she could hear the rustle of movement. Bex had appeared on the bank, no doubt attracted by the commotion. She wasn’t the only one. Several dog walkers had slowed their steps. Yet, their presence did nothing to deter Daisy.
‘I get it. You don’t like me. You don’t want me on the canal. But I’m here, and I have as much right to be here as you. So you and your threats aren’t going to work. Unreasonable noise? It’s called fun, not that you’d know anything about that. So threaten me with another fine. Threaten me all you like. I’m not paying this. I’ll tell whoever I need to that I am not the problem. You are. You and your vindictiveness.’
