Daphne
Daphne
Daphne stared at her whiteboard from her bed.
She’d managed to cross off Deal with Ziggy’s gang , and had thrown in Sort things with his love interest as an extra bonus item. She’d also engineered Revenge on Jeremy rather spectacularly, due to all her friends pitching in to help.
All her friends. Daphne rolled those words around in her head, loving the way they sounded, the way they made her feel. God, she was going soft in her old age. She’d always prided herself on being self-sufficient. She was a lone wolf. Even during all those years she’d been with Jack, she’d not had any friends to speak of, besides him. She’d not needed any; people were wary of her and she could never trust their motives, which made genuine friendships impossible.
Daphne wasn’t entirely sure that her new friends actually liked her, but she liked them, on the whole, so that was a good start, wasn’t it? Unfortunately, it was also an end. The ticking of the clock had become louder and louder until it was about the only thing she could hear. It was keeping her awake at night. She was tired. Tired of it all.
She still had three items on the list (having dealt with the lack of loo roll some time ago). Find Art’s daughter she’d managed to delegate to some professionals. She had no doubt that a top TV production company, who’d had a perfect feel-good story dangled in front of them, would be able to locate Kerry in no time.
The next item— Save the community center — was the real problem. The talent show appeared to be their only chance, and she really wanted to be there to make sure it all went to plan. Art was enthusiastic, and dangerously softhearted but couldn’t really be trusted not to make a huge mess of it all. Just look what had happened at the nativity.
So, she had to stick around for nine more days. Nine more days of looking over her shoulder and having palpitations whenever she heard someone call her name. Nine more days of ducking her head and rushing off whenever anyone on the street caught her eye for a minute too long.
And she didn’t want to leave. Last time it had been an escape. A relief. It had felt like amputating a gangrenous limb. Incredibly hard and life-altering, but the only way to survive.
This time was different. She’d started to make a life for herself, a life of her own, and she really didn’t want to abandon it. She wasn’t sure she’d have the strength to start over, and even if she did, she’d only end up in this position again, eventually. Building a life meant making connections, and that meant being visible, which made you vulnerable.
All this ruminating led her right back to Sidney. Could she tell him she was leaving? Could she maybe even persuade him to come with her? She’d love to have a wingman. It would make this next step feel like an adventure instead of a punishment. They could be like Bonnie and Clyde, without being shot to death, obviously.
She stared at the final remaining item on her list: Ask Sidney to come with me? Then picked up her phone, found Sidney’s number and typed out a text.
···
Daphne pushed open the door to the café and paused for a minute while she surveyed the room. Sidney was, as ever, early. Waiting for her. As she approached the table, he pushed back his chair and stood up, leaning forward to kiss her, as he always did. Such a gentleman, which was a rare thing these days.
But something was different. Sidney, usually so relaxed and confident, was on edge. Daphne was an expert on edge ; she could spot it a mile off. She was, after all, often the reason for it.
“I ordered your double espresso,” he said.
“With two sugars?” said Daphne.
“Of course,” said Sidney. How nice it was to have someone who knew exactly how you liked your caffeine.
“And I took the liberty of choosing a couple of slices of cake. I thought you’d like carrot cake.”
“Fabulous. One of your five a day. Two, if it has lemon frosting,” said Daphne, shrugging off her coat, which she hung over the back of her chair.
“I have something I need to talk to you about,” he said. “Something important.”
“OK,” she replied. “I have something important to talk to you about, too, but you go first.”
“It’s Sonny,” said Sidney, with a heavy sigh. “He’s been injured. Just outside Kyiv. I thought he was staying at the border. I had no idea he was venturing so far into Ukraine, to help people escape. Stupid, stupid boy. I warned him not to be a hero.”
Daphne took his hand in both of hers. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “How bad is it? Is he going to be OK?” She couldn’t bear the idea of this young, vital man, so brave and kind, having his life cut short, or forever altered.
“I don’t know,” said Sidney, resting his head on their clasped hands. She could feel his ragged, shallow breath, hot against her skin. “I need to get him airlifted back home. But it’s going to cost ten thousand pounds.”
“Do you have the money?” said Daphne.
“Yes,” he replied. “But I can’t access it quickly enough. It’ll take a month to liquidate the capital, and I need to get Sonny back here now. Daphne, I hate to ask this of you, but I feel so close to you. You’re the only woman since my darling wife died who I’ve been able to love.”
“ Whom I’ve been able to love,” said Daphne, which, judging by Sidney’s expression, wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting to his declaration.
“So, I wonder if you might be able to help me? Help Sonny. I’ll pay you back, of course. With interest,” he continued, looking up at her, unblinking, waiting for her response.
“Sure,” she said. “Of course, I’ll help you.”
Sidney beamed and passed her a piece of paper with some numbers scrawled in Biro.
“Honestly, I can’t thank you enough. Here are the bank details. You need to transfer the money by this time tomorrow,” he said.
Daphne picked up the paper and put it in her pocket. “What are friends for?” she said.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” said Sidney, all remnants of his earlier distress having vanished now a solution had presented itself.
“You know, I can’t even remember,” said Daphne.
···
Daphne stood in front of her whiteboard, pen in hand. Underneath Save the community center she wrote Buy butter . Then she crossed out Ask Sidney to come with me? and replaced it with Make Sidney pay .
What kind of stupid fool did he take her for? The injured child in a war zone? That was the second-oldest trick in the book. She remembered the words she’d written with such hope and determination on her whiteboard, two months ago: Be more trusting . And look where that had got her. She was just as stupid as Sidney.
She sat down heavily on her bed, took the piece of paper Sidney had given her from her pocket, ripped it into tiny pieces, then put them into the heavy cut-glass ashtray on her bedside table and set them alight with her Zippo.
For the first time since she could remember, Daphne cried. She’d thought she was gradually learning to love again. She’d thought she’d found someone who could genuinely love her back. She’d thought she could see a future where she wasn’t alone.
But it had all been an illusion. Her wingman had just shot her in the back of the head. She’d been betrayed by someone close to her.
Karma, it appeared, was a bitch.