Daisy swallowed and regretted saying anything. She was well aware that she’d sounded quite pathetic. ‘I know.’
Miles was now the one sounding cranky ‘Unless I am very much mistaken, that means something.’
Daisy leaned on the worktop, considered backpedalling and decided to continue to talk about it like the adult that she pretended she was. ‘I’m scared that if I let you in properly, you’ll see too much and change your mind.’
Miles laughed. ‘You’re being ridiculous! I’m not scared of what I’ve seen so far. Why would I be scared of more?’ Miles turned the oven off and leant back against the counter with hisarms folded. ‘This is the most bizarre behaviour and like totally out of the blue!’
Daisy had her hand around her wine glass, and her elbow propped on the counter as if she needed it for balance. She had no idea why she’d brought it up and blurted it out. She’d only just stepped in the door. Not a good start to a nice cosy night. ‘I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘Right,’ Miles said after a minute. ‘So let me get this straight. You’re worried that if I stick around long enough, I’ll see some unfiltered version of your life and decide to do a runner? Is that what you’re saying?’
Daisy made a face and shrugged her shoulders up. ‘You don’t need to repeat it. I already know it sounds pathetic.’
‘It’s not pathetic. It’s daft and untrue, but it’s not pathetic.’
Daisy sighed, stared at the glass in her hand and decided to elaborate further on what had prompted her outburst. ‘There were a couple of mums I heard talking at the school and then one of them passed by the shop and was all syrup and smiles. She’s known to be nasty. Anyway, she said the shop was gorgeous and the girls were sweet and that I was doing such a good job.’
Miles narrowed his eyes. ‘Let me guess. That’s not what she said behind your back.’
‘Not even close.’ Daisy laughed without humour. ‘Georgia is her name. She was from Maggie’s year at school. One of those who still wears a full face of makeup at drop-off and acts like she invented Pilates. Not that I’m judging.’
‘Of course, you’re not. I think I know the type. What, hang on, so she came into the shop?’
Daisy explained. ‘First of all, I inadvertently heard her talking at school and then she walked past as I was out the front watering the hanging baskets. She made a big show of saying hello, told me I looked lovely at the garden party, asked where the dress was from with this fake-curious tone like she wantedto work out if I could afford it or if someone had given it to me. Then she made a few cracks about how hard it must be for you, juggling me and the girls and the business. All in a tone that made it clear she thought I was completely out of my depth.’
Miles pulled a face. ‘She sounds delightful. You might have to shove her down a dark alley.’
‘She doesn’t know that I overheard her outside the school. She and one of the other mums were talking about us. They said it wouldn’t last and that men who come to Pretty Beach never stick around. That it was a shame for the girls and I should’ve known better.’
Miles rolled his eyes. ‘Blimey, Daise. These men? Really? It’s none of her business. What is wrong with people?’
‘I don’t know. I think they just like to speculate.’
‘They sound like they’ve got too much time on their hands, if you ask me. I mean, who is even interested in us and what we are doing?’
Daisy tipped her head and laughed. ‘Around here? Yeah, just about everyone.’
‘Right.’
‘They’d probably be nice to your face, if you ever bump into them.’
‘I don’t make a habit of stopping to gossip at school gates and even if I did, I’d probably be too busy being judged for not knowing the difference between a lunchbox and a pencil case.’
Daisy chuckled. ‘Good point.’
‘You do realise I don’t care what they think, don’t you? Crikey, it really is mind-numbingly boring that they are interested enough to make snarky remarks. Who is this idiot?’
‘It doesn’t matter, I know. It just sort of niggled me.’
‘Do you care what they think?’
Daisy hesitated. ‘Well, no, I don’twantto, but it gets in your head, doesn’t it? You hear something like that and even if youdon’t believe it, it’s still there, whispering that you’re the one who’s wrong for hoping for something good. I never should have said anything. Sorry, let’s forget it. I’ve ruined the evening.’
Six months.
Miles stepped over, took the glass from Daisy’s hand and topped it up. Then he handed it back and rested his hand over hers for a second. ‘Look. I like you, I like the shop, I like the twins, I even like Suntanned Pete, and that’s saying something after the once-over he gave me.’
‘He likes you now. You’ve passed the test.’
