Chapter 10
I felt immensely grateful that the shift got busier again after Sam’s explanation because it stopped me thinking about the horrible assumption I’d made about Josh and gave me an excuse not to have to talk to Penny. The irony that I would most likely have shared the details of my night of passion with her while at the same time feeling affronted that Josh might have done the same with Sam, but hadn’t, wasn’t lost on me and I felt awful as a result.
‘Here are your keys, Pen,’ was almost as much as I got to say to my friend in the end. ‘I’m sorry I can’t stop to talk.’
‘It’s fine,’ she said, looking deadbeat herself, but still sounding buoyant. ‘I’m not hanging around. I haven’t been home yet and I need to get to bed.’
‘You haven’t been at the café all this time?’ I gasped, forgetting my own worries for a moment.
‘I have,’ she said, nodding wearily. ‘Nick drove down to the beach and let me talk at him about everything I needed to get done ahead of next week as well as describing some new dishes I’m considering. I’m completely on top of it all now and I’ve put in orders to arrive throughout the day on Tuesday. Are you sure you can still be at the café to receive them?’
‘Absolutely,’ I confirmed. ‘Just message me when I need to be there and I won’t budge from the place until everything arrives and is assigned to the fridge, freezer or a shelf.’
‘You’re a star,’ she said gratefully, handing me her set of café keys which I vowed to guard with my life.
I didn’t feel like a star, however, when I was sitting with my parents at breakfast the following morning being interrogated about my extra-curricular weekend activities.
‘We assumed you were at Penny’s place,’ Mum said tersely, having watched me bundle my balled-up dress, which I knew still smelt of Josh’s aftershave, into the washing machine.
‘I was,’ I said, reaching for a slice of toast.
She gave me a look.
‘I was there for a while,’ I amended.
‘We know you didn’t spend Saturday night there,’ Mum carried on, ‘because Penny rang the cottage phone and asked to speak to you on Sunday. I’m guessing she tracked you down via your mobile in the end?’
What a nuisance that Penny had called the cottage phone before trying my mobile. Who rang a landline these days?
‘Yes,’ I said, avoiding Mum’s eye, ‘she did. And I spent the entire afternoon helping her out in the Sunshine Café before heading to the pub for my shift straight after.’
I didn’t elaborate on where I’d been before that. As a fully grown woman, I didn’t think I needed to, even if I had moved back into my childhood bedroom.
‘You must be all in,’ commented Dad. ‘I’ve never known you to work so hard. I’m surprised you’re up, given the circumstances. You should be having a lie-in.’
I was also surprised I was up, and the dark smudges under my eyes were an indicator as to exactly how exhausted I was. Rather than fall asleep the moment my head had hit the pillow, my brain had started berating me for the disservice I’d done Josh.
I had considered knocking on his door on the way back to my car after my shift, but Crow’s Nest Cottage had been in darkness and the curtains were all closed, so I thought it best not to disturb him and consequently drove back to Wynbrook with my guilt weighing heavy around my neck.
‘I’ve turned over a new leaf,’ I said to Dad, trying to sound brighter than I felt. ‘I thought you’d both be pleased that I’m keeping so busy.’
‘We are pleased,’ said Mum. ‘We think it’s wonderful that you’re so occupied, but while you’re—’
‘Please don’t tell me you’re about to give me the whole while you’re under our roof speech, Mum,’ I rudely interrupted. ‘I’m twenty-eight, not eighteen.’
‘Start acting like it then,’ she said crossly.
I realised how childish my sarcastic tone had sounded.
‘I’m sorry. But I did text to say I was staying out.’
‘But having assumed you were with Penny, we were worried when she rang asking for you,’ Mum pushed on. ‘We had no idea where you were. Anything could have happened to you.’
‘So why didn’t you call me and ask where I was?’ I couldn’t stop myself pouting.
‘Because we were trying to treat you like you’re twenty-eight, not eighteen,’ Dad sardonically piped up, as he pushed back his chair. ‘I need to get to work, and I think it best if we draw a line under this conversation. It’s no business of ours where you spent the night, Daisy, but if you’re going to use your friend as an alibi—’
‘But I didn’t!’ I hotly objected.
‘Cover story then,’ Dad angrily said, ‘whatever. Then make sure she knows about it first, okay? It’ll save a lot of grief in the long run.’
‘Right,’ I said, even though I hadn’t done that either. ‘Duly noted.’
Later in the day, I was still seething, so rather than attempt to apologise to Josh, I headed out for a walk around the estate instead. I was still avoiding the garden and was marching along the drive when Algy, practically bent double on the side of it, came into view.
‘You’re not still looking for that cat, Algy, are you?’ I asked, as I got closer.
Having been so caught up with Josh, the pub and latterly the café, I’d completely reneged on my promise to keep an eye on the man I considered my surrogate grandad and hoped this might be a fortuitous opportunity to make amends.
‘I am,’ Algy said, sounding upset as he pushed back the plants closest to the drive with his walking stick in the hope that the feline might happen to be sheltering there. ‘There’s no sign of my little girl, Luna, anywhere.’
I wasn’t sure the cat’s sex had been confirmed or that it actually had a name, but I went along with what Algy said.
‘Is she still eating the food you’re putting out?’ I asked him.
‘ Something’s eating the food I’m putting out,’ he told me, ‘but I’ve no idea if it’s her. Could be a fox for all I know. Could be a fox that’s had the cat.’
I stepped closer and linked my arm through his. He seemed to have shrunk in the time I’d been away and it took me a moment to match my pace to his slower one as we moved along the drive to the side of the manor. The stick was a new development too, but I assumed he would only be using it until he was properly and confidently back on his feet.
‘I daresay the fox would be more interested in your hens than a stray cat,’ I tried to say comfortingly, ‘though their place is like a fortress and it can’t possibly get in.’
Dad had created a huge fox-proof area for the hens to roam in and I knew he personally shut the coop up every evening, just to be on the safe side.
‘I suggested to Mum and Dad that you should set up a camera,’ I continued.
‘A security camera?’ Algy frowned, stopping to look at me.
‘No,’ I said, ‘a wildlife one. You could set it up so it’s trained on the food bowl. That way you’d know for certain what’s been visiting.’
‘That’s an inspired idea,’ Algy gasped, immediately brightening. ‘Why ever didn’t they mention it? Where can we get one of those from?’
‘We can order one online easily enough,’ I told him. ‘And I can set it up for you, if you like.’
‘Let’s do that,’ he said, setting off again and quickening his pace a little. ‘Let’s do that right now.’
Within minutes we were installed in his office, which wasn’t as organised and tidy as the last time I’d been in there, and I was searching for a basic camera, which was all we’d need. I could hear the drone of the vacuum coming from somewhere above us and hoped Mum wasn’t about to descend. I’d had enough of parents for one morning.
‘It’ll be here tomorrow,’ I said, once the order had been confirmed. ‘You might have to wait until later on for me to set it up though as I’ve promised to do Penny a favour in the day, but we’ll soon know if your cat, your Luna, is still in the vicinity.’
‘You’re very kind to humour an old man,’ Algy said, whisking the email confirmation off the printer. ‘I think most of my schemes and fancies are more of a hindrance to everyone now I’m over the hill and can’t action them myself.’
‘I’m sure they’re not,’ I said stoically, knowing it must be the cut-flower garden that I still hadn’t seen that he was referring to.
‘Oh, they are.’ He nodded, dropping the sheet of paper on top of a pile of receipts. ‘Getting old is no fun, Daisy. My advice is, avoid it if you can.’
I’d never heard him talk like that before and wondered if Mum and Dad might actually be right about him feeling lonely living on his own in the manor. He’d done it for as long as I could remember and had always been happy and content in the past, but perhaps the fall slash tumble had instigated a change of heart.
‘Well,’ I smiled, not wanting to suggest he might be lonely in case I was wrong, ‘I’ll try.’
‘Good,’ he said, then eyed me more closely. ‘Though I have to say, you’re already rather looking beyond your age today.’
‘Hey!’ I yelped.
‘We can’t have you looking as old as me, can we?’ he carried on. ‘I’m relying on you to regale me with youthful tales of mischievous bad behaviour so I can live vicariously through you this summer.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’ I smiled. ‘I’ll keep you posted if I get up to anything.’
‘You look like you’ve already started,’ he teased. ‘What have you been up to? Burning the candle at both ends?’
‘Something like that,’ I confessed, just as Mum chose that exact moment to stick her head around the door.
‘There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen,’ she said, looking miffed.
‘Thank you, Mum,’ I struggled to say with a straight face because Algy had pulled a face in response to her sour expression, ‘that’s great.’
‘I see you pulling that face, Algy.’ She then tutted and he stood to attention, which made me want to laugh even more. ‘What are you two up to?’
‘Just a little side project,’ he said, nimbly stepping in front of where he’d dropped the email. ‘And don’t look like that, Janet,’ he said as I turned away, ‘it won’t mean any extra work for anyone. Daisy, Daisy and I have got it completely under control. Haven’t we, my love?’
‘Totally.’ I nodded. ‘Absolutely under control.’
‘Hm,’ said Mum, ‘wonders will never cease.’
A persistent drizzle had started to fall while we were filling up on coffee and shortbread in the kitchen and this thankfully scuppered Algy’s suggestion to take me to see the cut-flower garden. I was relieved that he was having an unusual fair-weather moment, because I was still feeling reluctant to admire the manor’s many horticultural delights and opted instead to hide out in the library.
It had been a regular haunt during school holidays when I was growing up and had provided me with a whole variety of different destinations and subjects to encounter from the comfort of the squishy armchairs, which were arranged either side of a vast fireplace.
‘Look what I found the other evening,’ said Algy, who had opted to join me, once it became obvious the wet weather was set to continue. ‘I bet you haven’t picked this up in a while, have you?’
I took the book he handed me without initially realising what it was and then felt my heart skip in recognition. The dust cover was even more tattered than I remembered, but Mary and Ben looked exactly the same. As did the friendly robin.
‘ The Secret Garden ,’ I whispered, feeling a sudden upsurge of emotion. ‘You’re right, Algy – I haven’t read it in years.’
‘This was the tome that in part kicked your love of—’
‘It was,’ I cut in.
‘Take it if you like,’ he offered kindly, not at all offended by my interruption. ‘Read it again at your leisure.’
‘I thought you didn’t lend books beyond the library door,’ I said softly, carefully putting it down. ‘Hasn’t that always been your mantra?’
‘Well,’ he said, looking from me to the book and back again, ‘I think I can trust you with it. I know where you live, after all.’
I didn’t say anything.
‘Don’t you want to read it?’ he asked. ‘You used to love it. I can remember you—’
‘Please,’ I cut in again. ‘Can we not talk about that? It’s been hard enough having to move back in with Mum and Dad. If I start thinking about what occurred during the time before I left for university, I’ll be heading for the hills before I’ve even made a start on sorting myself out.’
‘Might the garden not help you sort yourself out?’ Algy suggested mildly.
‘No,’ I said rather loudly, making him wince.
‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised, after a moment had passed. ‘I’m so sorry, Daisy. That comment, and the offer of the book, was insensitive. I should have realised…’
I felt even worse then. I should have just taken the book and hidden it away, then given it back once enough time had passed for him to believe I’d read it. Re-read it.
‘It’s all right,’ I started to say, wanting to make amends for upsetting my dear friend, who obviously hadn’t meant to upset me.
‘No, it isn’t,’ he tutted. ‘And I am truly sorry. But, do you ever wonder—’
‘No,’ I cut in again, suddenly feeling less forgiving. ‘Never.’
Though, in recent days, I had started to…