Now here she was again, alone this time, crossing the same city, but not for anything light. This was for something heavier and horrible that had left a really nasty taste in her mouth, let alone his. The train slowed, and the voice over the tannoy called out the next station. Daisy sat up straighter, shifted her bag and followed the crowd out onto the platform and made her way down more stairs, hoping that she was going the right way.
She wasn’t lost exactly, but she wasn’t far off it. Her sense of direction in London was patchy at best. She followed the signs again and found the platform she needed. Another five minutes, maybe ten, and then she’d be on the last leg of the journey and hopefully it would be more familiar, less manic.
The train to Richmond was less packed. She found a seat by the window and watched as the tunnel gave way to daylight, the buildings flattening out and the air changing. Rows of red-brick terraces, washing lines strung between balconies, a back garden with a trampoline, a corner shop with crates of apples outside, all of it whizzed past the window as the train trundled along and she thought about Miles and how tired he’d sounded. That low kind of exhaustion that came from trying to be the strong one when everything around you was falling to bits. She knew the feeling well.
To be quite frank, she didn’t really know why she was going because clearly, she was going to be of little to no actual use in the situation. Really, though, it wasn’t just because she loved him; it was because he’d said yes when she’d asked him. If shewas being honest, she’d been a little bit shocked at that, but it was what it was.
Reaching for her phone, she checked the signal and sent Miles a quick message.
Daisy:On the train now. Should be at Mortlake just after eleven.
Miles didn’t reply straight away. She tucked her phone into her coat pocket and rested her head back as the train rolled on past leafy bits of the suburbs where houses sat behind low hedges and old pubs stood on corners. The further they went, the more the buildings felt as if they were breathing again and more space and sky miraculously appeared.
When Mortlake came up on the little display board, she stood, gathered her bag and moved towards the doors, stepped off the train and straight into a quieter place altogether. It wasn’t silent, far from it and people were milling about all over the place. There was a low hum of a platform announcement, the distant squeal of brakes somewhere further down the line and it was slower with a few enamel signs, a little brick waiting room, and some old benches with peeling paint. So much more her cup of tea.
Slowing near the ticket machine, she looked around. A man in a puffer jacket wheeled a small suitcase towards the taxi rank. A schoolgirl in a navy coat kicked at the edge of a puddle. The Mortlake sign looked slightly faded, the paintwork on the post below it scratched and worn. Daisy inhaled and looked around. This was not where she would’ve chosen for a visit, not in a million years and she wasn’t sure that she had much to offer. She certainly didn’t feel as if she had any special words of wisdom or magic fixes. But she’d shown up because Miles mattered to her.
Daisy:Just arrived.
She sent the message and then stepped out towards the street, the sound of a car door slamming in the distance, theclatter of a bicycle passing, a red bus zooming past. Gazing at a little flower stand outside a sweets and drinks kiosk, she suddenly wondered if she should have brought flowers or some sort of gift. What sort of thing did you give to a man whose mum had just been battered? How did one deal with that? Strolling over to the flowers, she picked up a happy-looking bunch, held out her phone to pay, waited for it to ping, smiled and walked back over to wait. She’d just brought herself, thinking that she would be enough. Hopefully, she’d got the right end of the stick.
25
Daisy spotted Miles before he saw her. He was standing just opposite the station entrance, leaning slightly forward with both hands around a takeaway cup. He looked like she’d never seen him before; extremely tense as if he was trying to appear composed but wasn’t quite pulling it off. There were shadows under his eyes, a frown on his face and his jacket collar was up. Daisy swallowed. Things did not look good.
She waved, he glanced up and caught her eye, half-smiled and raised his eyebrows. Daisy walked across to him, holding her bag close to her side. He stepped forward, hugged her with quite a force and kissed her on the cheek.
‘Hi.’
Miles shook his head. ‘Thanks for coming. I’ve just been thinking about it and thought there is no way I should have asked you to come all the way here just to make me feel better. What an idiot…’
‘What? Don’t be silly! I’m glad I came.’
‘It’s a big ask to make you come up here.’
‘It’s not. I’m fine.’ Daisy didn’t really know what to say next. The street around them was busy in a London way with taxis buzzing past, cyclists weaving between traffic, the odd personstopping to take a call right in the middle of the pavement. It was noisy, but between them, it was as if someone was holding a knife above and might slice right down through the centre any second.
Miles nodded to the right. ‘There’s a café around the corner. It’s quiet and down an alley. Come on.’
The café was tucked on an alley down a little street lined with weathered brickwork and overgrown ivy crawling up the side of a battered pub sign next door. Its windows were fogged in the corners, but light poured out onto the pavement. Daisy gazed up at a striped, faded green and cream awning and two little tables set up outside. One table was occupied by a couple with matching coats and a dog sat underneath and the other by a woman with a laptop and a large frothy coffee in a blue-and-white mug.
As they stepped inside, Daisy felt her shoulders drop as the scent of coffee and toast hung in the air. The café itself was all soft wood and whitewashed walls, long shelves lined with plants that dangled lazily from terracotta pots and low pendant lights that threw pools of light down onto tables. Vintage botanical prints in wonky frames lined the walls and menus chalked up on boards behind the counter displayed drop-your-chin London prices.
The whole place had a curated kind of charm about it. Like someone with good taste and an eye for detail had spent time layering in lovely things. It reminded Daisy of a page in one of Annabelle’s interiors magazines, a little bit gentrified East Village via South West London, not that Daisy had been or would ever be likely to go to the East Village, but still. It was sweet and full of regulars with dogs and MacBooks, low playing jazz, and wasn’t trying too hard to impress.
After ordering and choosing a corner table by the window, they sat down. Miles looked like he hadn’t slept properly, which made Daisy feel awful.
Miles didn’t bother with preamble. ‘She’s doing okay, relatively speaking.’
‘Good. That’s good. Have you been back in this morning?’
He nodded. ‘I went first thing. She knew who I was straight away, which is something, but she couldn’t open one eye. I just can’t believe it.’
‘I know. I’ll come with you later for visiting hours to give you some moral support.’
‘Thanks.’ Miles smiled, but it was short-lived. He stared out of the window for a second, eyes on the road. ‘My brother left for Tokyo this morning.’
‘Right, so he decided to go?’
