Hidden Cottage (17 page)
Happy that Beth trusted her enough to confide in her, she said, ‘I promise.’ She carried on licking her ice-cream, thinking what a brilliant time she was having.
The band had finished playing and people had spent all they were going to spend and were drifting away, some home and some over the road to the Fox and Goose.
Richard, the vicar’s husband, had never returned, his services permanently required on the tombola to fill in for Ray Coombes, who’d tripped over and broken a toe – ‘That’ll teach him to wear those awful sandals of his,’ his wife had said – and so Mia had been glad of Owen’s help. ‘You can leave whenever you want,’ she’d told him, feeling guilty that he’d found himself roped in for more than he had bargained on, but he’d said he was enjoying himself and lending a hand was as good a way as any for him to meet people. He had chatted with everyone in a relaxed and engaging manner, effortlessly making friends and fitting in. One or two of the older members of the village said that while they would never have recognized him, they did remember his name, and his parents. Mia had overheard the words ‘bad lot’ and ‘bully’ being guardedly muttered in respect to Owen’s father.
With no one around, and seeing that some of the other stall holders, including Georgina and Eliza, were packing up, she said, ‘Owen, I doubt we’ll get any more customers now, so you can go if you want; you’ve been more than generous with your time.’
‘That’s OK, I’m not in any hurry to get away. What happens to all the books we haven’t sold?’ he asked, looking at the tabletop wreckage.
‘The really old books will go for recycling and the rest will go to the PTA to sell at the school fair next month.’ She bent down and pulled out two boxes from under the table, then another two.
‘I’ll help you box them up,’ he said.
‘There’s no need; I can manage.’
‘I’m sure you can, but never let it be said that I’m the kind of man who doesn’t see a job through.’ He took one of the boxes from her. ‘Do you have a system – paperbacks separated from hardbacks, or everything in together?’
‘Everything in together will be fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll sort them out later.’
They’d packed away all of the books and handed over their takings when Mia saw Daisy and Scott crossing the green in her direction. She hadn’t said anything yet to her daughter, but Mia hugely suspected that there was more to Daisy and Scott’s friendship than they were letting on. She had thought it when she had watched them getting out of Jensen’s car last night – it was the way Scott had taken Daisy’s weekend bag from her and slung it over his shoulder along with his own and fallen in step alongside her. On the face of it, it was nothing, but to Mia’s eye there had been an innate intimacy to what he’d done; it had been the act of an established partner.
Watching the two of them approach, it was obvious to Mia now that Scott had everything to do with Daisy wanting to go to Australia, and she had no problem with that. Scott was a decent and level-headed man; yes, he was a lot older than Daisy, but maybe that was what she needed, someone to keep her grounded.
‘Anything we can do to help?’ Daisy asked cheerfully, now in front of the bare trestle tables.
‘All done, thanks,’ Mia responded. ‘Have you met Owen?’
Smiling at Owen, Daisy said, ‘No, but my sister and I saw you in the shop last Saturday. I see Mum’s press-ganged you into helping before you’ve even found your feet here.’
‘Hey,’ Mia joked, ‘that’s not true; all I said was that if he didn’t help me I’d put his name down to help Muriel next year.’
Owen laughed. ‘I may only have been here a week, but my survival instinct told me which was the better option.’
Jensen and Tattie then appeared, along with Madison and Beth, the two girls looking like they’d been friends since forever. ‘I’ve had an idea, Mum,’ Jensen said. ‘To save you cooking tonight, why don’t we have a Mr Wu takeaway?’
‘Brilliant idea,’ Eliza said, coming over to join them. ‘Put me down for a broccoli and ginger beef stir-fry. I’m starving, I haven’t had anything to eat all afternoon.’
‘What about you, Madison?’ Mia asked. ‘Do you like Chinese food?’
‘I love it. Noodles are my favourite.’
‘That’s settled then. Beth, if it’s OK with your parents, do you want to join us?’
The girl nodded eagerly and smiled at Madison.
‘What about you, Georgina?’ Mia called over to her friend. ‘Fancy a Chinese tonight? Looks like we’ve got a party brewing.’
‘It’s the best offer I’ve had all day, but sadly I’ll have to pass. I’ve just been talked into a sleepover, so I’ll be rustling up pizza and chips for four hyperactive boys.’
‘Oh, poor you, good luck with that!’ Then feeling that it would be rude not to include him, Mia turned to Owen. ‘You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.’
He hesitated. ‘I wouldn’t want to intrude on a family occasion.’
‘You won’t be intruding. It’ll be my way of thanking you for your help today and for repaying your hospitality last Monday.’
‘In that case, how can I say no? What time do you want me to come?’
‘Come for six thirty.’
Later at Medlar House, while the others were out in the garden, Daisy finally managed to get her mother on her own in the kitchen; she was laying the table for supper. ‘Mum, why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you a cup of tea?’
Her mother stopped what she was doing. ‘Why do I have the feeling that offer comes loaded with subtext?’
Despite her nerves, Daisy forced herself to laugh and went over to the kettle. ‘It’s not that rare I offer to make you a drink.’
‘It’s rare enough to make me know that you have something on your mind.’
The kettle filled, Daisy faced her mother. Scott had suggested he be with her for this, but she’d wanted to do it alone. She knew that too often in her life she had relied upon or hidden behind others, although in many ways she was doing exactly the same thing again – telling Mum first so she could be the one to break the news to Dad. She took a deep breath. ‘The thing is, Mum, Scott and I are, well, we’re—’
‘More than just friends?’ Mia interrupted her, her head tilted to one side, an eyebrow raised.
Daisy stared at her, shocked. ‘How did you know? Did Jensen say something?’
‘I didn’t know for sure, but I definitely had a feeling about the two of you. Why did you think Jensen might have said something? Did he know already?’
‘He guessed earlier today. Not that I made it that difficult for anyone to guess. Do you mind?’
‘About you and Scott? No. But presumably he’s the reason you want to move to Australia. Why didn’t you tell us that straight away?’
‘Come on, Mum, it’s Dad; you know what he’s like. Can you imagine his reaction to me being in a relationship with a man who’s ten years older than me?’
Her mother sighed and sat down. ‘So what now? You sneak off to Australia without telling him about Scott? Is that the idea?’
‘You sound cross.’
‘Not cross, love, just tired of it all, the constant secrecy in this family. We don’t seem capable of being honest with each other. Why is that?’
Daisy pulled out the chair opposite her mother and sat down. ‘It’s not you, Mum. You must never think that.’
‘But it is me who you expect to break this latest round of news to your father, isn’t it? Is it serious between the two of you? I mean, really serious?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He’s asked me to marry him. And I’ve said yes. I love him, Mum. I really do. I know you probably think I’m only twenty-three and that I’m too young and—’
Her mother reached across the table and took her hands. ‘Daisy, that isn’t what I think at all. And seeing you with Scott I can see that he’s good for you.’
Daisy could feel her eyes filling with tears. ‘He is, Mum, and I know it will work between us. It’s always worked between us, ever since I moved in with him. You see, we’ve lived together as friends, and we’ve lived together as . . . as a couple, so we know it works. It’s not like we don’t know one another.’
Her mother smiled and squeezed her hands.
‘What I wanted to do,’ Daisy continued, ‘but Scott wouldn’t let me, I wanted to wait until I was in Australia and then tell you and Dad about Scott. Which I know would have been wrong.’
‘I’m glad Scott was sensible enough to talk you out of that.’
‘He is sensible, Mum, and he’d never do anything to hurt me. He understands me. He knows what I’m like. But Dad’s never going to think well of him, is he? He’ll never approve. Or of any decision I make without his input.’
‘He certainly won’t if you sneak off to the other side of the world without telling him the truth.’
The kettle began to boil. Daisy got up, but her mother said, ‘Stay there, I’ll do it.’
Watching her make the tea, pouring water, dunking teabags, stirring in milk, Daisy wondered at her mother’s calmness – nothing ever seemed to faze her. Years ago that trademark stillness of hers used to drive Daisy mad and she would deliberately do whatever she could to force Mum to lose her temper. Feeling so relentlessly stirred up as a teenager, she had despised Mum’s seemingly unnatural composure, had taken it for submissiveness. Now she knew better; it was strength. Real inner strength, the kind Daisy wished she had. Because really, she was nothing but a coward.
Putting the mugs of tea on the table and sitting down again, Mum said, ‘You said Scott’s asked you to marry him – do you have a date in mind for the wedding?’
‘No. But when it happens, it will be in Australia. I’m sorry if that’s a disappointment to you.’
‘Is Scott stipulating that?’
‘We’ve agreed it between ourselves. It’s how we do things, Mum. We’re not like you and Dad, with Dad making all the decisions.’
Mum looked at her with a small frown. ‘Is that how you see it?’
‘Isn’t it
exactly
how it is? What choices does he ever give you?’
‘I didn’t go to Brussels with him. I chose to stay here.’
‘But the point is, he wasn’t prepared to consider your feelings when he was offered the job; he just went ahead and accepted it. It’s the way he is – he has to be in control of everything. I’ve never been able to do anything without him wanting me to do it
his
way.’
Taking a cautious sip of her hot tea, she watched her mother closely. It was a long time since she had spoken so bluntly about Dad. When Mum spoke, the question took Daisy by surprise. ‘Are you absolutely sure Scott is giving you the choice to stay here and you’re not just going along with what he wants?’
‘Trust me, Mum, Scott is nothing like Dad. And I really don’t want to stay here; I want to go to Australia. We’d have a completely different life there. A better life.’
‘It’s a big step you’re taking, especially as you’ve never been there before. It all seems to be happening in such a rush.’
‘It doesn’t feel that way for us. In fact it doesn’t seem to be happening fast enough. I finished work yesterday, by the way. For good.’
‘You’ve handed in your notice?’
‘I gave a week’s notice last week. I can’t tell you what a relief it is knowing I’ll never have to sit in that miserable office ever again.’
‘Does your father know?’
‘No.’
Her mother looked at her steadily, the small frown once again creasing her forehead. ‘So when do you want me to tell your father all this? When he gets back from his trip?’
‘Would you? I know I should do it myself, but I can’t look him in the face and say the words. I just can’t bear the thought of him going ballistic. He’d find every reason he could to convince me I don’t know what I’m doing and that Scott isn’t right for me.’
‘In all probability he’s going to do that anyway.’
‘But you’ll be able to calm him down.’
‘You’re joking, right?’
‘Please, Mum. Try. For me.’
‘OK, I’ll do my best. But no promises. You know your father’s a law unto himself.’
Daisy put her mug of tea down and went round the table to hug her mother. ‘Thanks, Mum. You’re the best.’
When she was sitting down again, the frown was gone from her mother’s face and in its place was a happy smile. ‘I suppose congratulations are in order, aren’t they? My youngest daughter getting married; that’s quite a big deal you know. Are you going to tell the others this weekend while you’re all together?’
‘Can I? Tonight?’
‘Why not?’
‘Dad will be cross that he was last to hear, though.’
Her mother shrugged. ‘Let’s cross that bridge when we have to. For now it’s your moment; you enjoy it. We’ll celebrate with some bubbly and a Mr Wu takeaway. How does that sound?’
‘It sounds great.’
With a bottle of red wine in hand and with Putin following behind him, Owen set off down the garden towards the lake. The bird seemed in a subdued mood; he hadn’t let rip with a single screech or once fanned out his tail feathers in a showy look-at-me display since Owen had arrived home from the fete. His head now kept permanently low, he gave the impression of sulking, as if he resented Owen going out for the evening. ‘You’re always out these days, you treat this place like a hotel,’ he imagined the bird muttering.
Owen skirted the lake and after he’d located the gap he’d purposely made in the dense tangle of rhododendron and hawthorn bushes and slipped through it, he looked back at Putin, who had stopped some yards away. Fixing his beady eyes on him, the bird gave Owen an imperious stare.
‘No need to wait up for me,’ Owen said happily.
Dropping down into the woods, the air softly weighted with the smell of wild garlic, he stood for a moment to admire the haze of bluebells caught in the shafts of sunlight streaming through the trees. He felt the same emotion as he had yesterday evening when he’d walked back from Medlar House after dropping off the books with Mia, an uplifting sense of being exactly where he should be.
A short while later, he took the steep incline and, emerging from the woods, climbed over the stile and joined the public footpath where he was faced with the choice of taking the path to the right, down towards the church and Medlar House, or going straight on to the allotments – that’s if they were still there.
He decided he just had time to make a detour and minutes later he was pleased to discover that the place, just as he remembered it, was a hive of activity in the warm spring evening, with people working on their plots. He spotted Muriel Fulshaw filling a watering can from a green plastic water butt in front of a shed and went over to her. ‘Hello,’ he said, ‘I missed you at the fete this afternoon.’
