‘People are saying you should do something with it and go big. Capitalise, I suppose. It’s such a sweet little spot. I said to Mark, if I didn’t know you, I’d think it was a set for one of those new life in the country shows. You know?’
Daisy blinked. She could still hear the twins giggling through the glass and still feel the weight of Georgia’s words from the school spinning round her head. ‘I try…’
Georgia stepped a bit closer, her voice lowering slightly. She squeezed her lips together, blinked rapidly and jutted her chin out. ‘And how’s the boyfriend?’
Daisy now definitely wanted to stab Georgia, but instead she smiled so very sweetly. There was no way she wasevergoing to give anything away. Not even a morsel to the likes of Georgia. ‘Great, thank you.’
Georgia beamed. ‘Oh, good, good, good. Lovely! It’s just so nice to see a bit of romance, isn’t it? Though I’m sure it’s not easy juggling everything, what with the girls and the business. I don’t know how you do it. I really don’t. Like, Ireallydon’t. They’re such gorgeous girls, too. It’s so lovely to have twins in the class.’
Daisy was fighting the urge to lunge at Georgia. ‘We manage.’
‘So, the new man… You met him through Juliette, didn’t you? He’s, err, well, taken on a lot.’
Daisy turned to the door; her hand gripped the handle of the watering can tightly. With a fixed smile, she looked back at Georgia, who was now leaning slightly forward like they were old school friends catching up over a cappuccino.
Georgia was doing the pursed lip, jutted out chin, rapid blinking thing again. Her tone dropped and her head tilted with mock empathy. ‘It’s a lot, though, isn’t it? The business, the girls, and a new relationship. I said to Mark, she’s brave, doing all that with two little ones. Especially when it’s not all signed and sealed, you know?’
Daisy inhaled and remained calm. ‘I’m not sure what you mean by signed and sealed. We’re not a delivery or a package deal.’
Georgia gave a breathy laugh, as if they were in on some shared joke. ‘No, of course not, I meant just in terms of things being official. Men do like to keep their options open and being with someone with children, it’s a lot. That’s all I meant. I didn’t mean anything by it. Goodness, sorry, did I sound a bit rude there?’
Daisy knew exactly what Georgia was playing at. She’d heard the loaded tone many a time since she’d had the twins. A sugary kind of condescension cloaked in faux warmth. There was no way in the world Daisy was going to tell Georgia that what she’d been implying was okay. ‘Whatever.’
‘Anyway, good luck. I always say if itfeelsright, you’ve just got to go for it and do your own thing and stuff what anyone else thinks. You’re not the sort to sit and wait for things to go wrong. Anyway, what do I know?’
Six months.
‘To be honest, Georgia, I don’t spend too much time worrying about what other people think. I’m way too busy making my little princesses go well in the world for that. They’re just so gorgeous. I mean just look at them. They are Henley girls, after all.’ Daisy laid on the sarcasm with a sugary coating, but Georgia wasn’t bright enough to pick up on it.
Georgia blinked and continued on her own agenda. ‘Yeah. I know it’s nothing to do with me, but I did wonder when I saw you all at the garden party if you’d thought it through.’
Daisy wanted to laugh, or shout, or walk away and slam the shop door so hard that the bell would snap off. Instead, she turned her face to Georgia with a smoothness that surprised even herself. ‘I’m not sure what you mean. The girls are happy. That’s the bit that matters.’
‘Of course, of course. So sweet.’ Georgia fiddled with her sunglasses. ‘Anyway, I know it was yonks ago now, but I meant to come over to say hello at the garden party, but it was so busy. You looked lovely, by the way. Oh my goodness, that dress. Where did you get it? You’re normally, well, you know, a bit more, umm, casual. You know jeans and those floral shirts and the like…’
Daisy kept her face neutral. There was no way she was engaging with Georgia. ‘Just an old thing I’ve had for ages.’
Georgia’s eyes flickered for a second and she pretended to be complimentary. ‘Not everyone can pull off that bohemian look. Though I suppose you’ve always had the right sort of figure for floaty. It’s a bit harder when you’ve got curves.’
Daisy smiled, sharp and quick. ‘Thanks.’
Georgia clapped her hands gently once, as if wrapping things up. ‘Well, I mustn’t keep you. Just wanted to say hello. Lovely to see you, Daise.’
‘Yep.’
Georgia turned away, so fully wrapped up in herself and entirely believing in her own narrative that it was laughable. Daisy picked up the watering can and moved to the last hanging basket, letting the water trickle slowly into the base. Her chest was tight, her stomach sour and she grimaced. The thing was that Georgia thought she was clever, but really Daisy had heard it all before; men don’t take on what isn’t theirs, men don’t dothis, that or the other. Blah, blah, boring, same old, blah. Daisy shook her head because the irony was that it wasn’t about men or Miles, nope, not at all; the situation was all about her.
Attempting to push down the blind fury starting to bubble up from the sour feeling in the pit of her stomach, Daisy sighed. She was pleased with herself; she hadn’t said a word back that she’d regret and hadn’t caused a scene. She’d done the polite thing, kept her mouth shut and not let Georgia rattle her, at least not on the surface. Underneath was she rattled.
Inside, her mind raced, but she was well aware that there were always going to be women like Georgia around and about in life. Polished and smiling on the outside, saying one thing to your face and another when you turned your back. Even in a gorgeous little town like Pretty Beach, it was the way of the world. She smiled to herself. She’d been one step ahead of the likes of Georgia. Still, the whole episode had left a nasty taste in her mouth and she didn’t like how it made her feel at all. As far as she was concerned, she would be quite happy not to set eyes on the likes of Georgia ever again.
13
Afew hours or so later, Daisy had put the girls to bed, read them a story and was now down in the kitchen with Annabelle and Maggie. A paint tin sat on a flattened cardboard box by the side of the cooker, its edges crusted with streaks of duck egg blue and patches were smeared on the handle. The kitchen smelt of curry, sisters and fresh paint. One of Daisy’s playlists played quietly from a speaker on the windowsill and Annabelle stood at the far cupboard, crouched slightly, screwdriver in one hand, brass cup pull handle in the other.
‘It’s starting to look more like you and less like Uncle Dennis.’ Annabelle smiled as she twisted a final screw in place. ‘If you squint.’
Maggie, half on a stool, half off, reached for a willow basket beside her and slid it onto the shelf made from the old timber offcut Daisy had pulled out of a skip that Suntanned Pete had installed. Hopping back down, Maggie stood back to admire it. ‘Very rustic and on-brand. As soon as I saw them, I thought they had your name all over them and I was very much right.’
