Chapter Eleven Daisy
Chapter Eleven
Daisy
As Daisy sat at home after work checking through Instagram for any further signs of Dan, Zack appeared in the doorway, a bunch
of white roses in his hand, his head tilted to one side.
“Happy two months to our wedding day,” he said, moving toward her. “For you,” he added.
Daisy took them, lifting them immediately to her nose. They didn’t seem to have any scent. “They’re beautiful,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“Can you believe it? This time in two months you’ll be Mrs. Zack Crossley.”
“Oh,” Daisy said, eyes widening. She was unsure how it hadn’t come up until now. Except she was fairly sure it had. “I was
going to stay Daisy Douglas, remember? We spoke about it once—”
“That was in a therapy session, babe,” Zack interrupted, flinging his hand toward her as though swatting away a fly. “I thought
it was hypothetical, rather than specific to us.”
“No.” Daisy shook her head. “I love my name. It’s one of the only things that really makes me feel like myself.”
Zack moved toward her, sitting down. “One of the main traits of being avoidant is this fear of commitment. You know that, right?”
Daisy frowned. “I do.”
“What do you think one of the biggest signs that you might be avoidant in a marriage would be?” His voice was gentle, his
hand reaching out for hers.
She ran through his words. “Not taking their name?” Daisy suggested. Was that the real reason for it? Maybe it wasn’t about
her identity at all. Maybe she really was just afraid of becoming too close to Zack. Combining their lives in a way that would
be too difficult to undo again were he to leave her.
“That’s right,” Zack said, his thumb circling the skin on the back of her hand. “I put up with a lot from you because I understand
how much you struggle. It’s why I don’t suggest going on dates or holidays because I know your instinct is to turn them down,
but this is different. This is important to me and I hardly ever push for things I want. Will you just consider it?” He fixed his warm brown eyes on Daisy’s face and she
nodded.
“Of course. I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought about it from your point of view,” she said.
“It’s okay,” he said, as tears stung at Daisy’s eyes. She wasn’t a good partner to Zack sometimes, and he really did try so
hard. “You’re okay. I’m here,” he whispered.
He often did this; detected the sadness in her and helped her fight it. He’d done it the day she told him she was in love
with him. It was mid-session and she’d broken down over a memory of her dad and there he was, beside her, telling her she’d
be okay. That he was there and she was safe.
“I’ve fallen in love with you,” she’d blurted out and he’d backed away from her.
“I think perhaps we should stop these sessions for a bit,” he’d said.
“No, please.” She’d reached forward to grab him.
“We have to.”
“I can’t,” she’d said, panic rising within her at the thought of not seeing him again.
“Daisy, we have to.”
“No, I—”
“I’m in love with you too,” he’d shouted back and they’d just stared at each other, breathing heavily, silence ringing out
around them as Daisy saw the life she could have with him. One where she felt heard, and loved, and safe.
“But I don’t think I would turn down a date or a holiday,” Daisy said now, squinting. “I think I—”
Zack’s phone pinged and he picked it up. “Someone’s offering a free padel slot,” he said, already typing his reply. “I’ve
taken it. I can bring us back a curry or something?”
Daisy stared down at the roses, for now still tightly closed. She’d spent a couple of years working as a florist, and white
flowers meant something, didn’t they? They meant innocence. Innocence and new beginnings.
At the bus stop the next day, Daisy continued her search for Dan. The longer it went on, the more she wondered if she should
worry. She’d checked and CoryEscondido hadn’t posted any more photos. It wasn’t like she and Dan were in daily contact when
he was home, but there was often memes and voice notes, occasional phone calls and side messages when their mum said something
annoying in the group chat. She wanted to hear his voice and tell him about what happened on the bus. To hear him laugh as
she told him about brandishing the book, because he’d definitely find it funny. He was a smiler, Dan. Saw the good in everything.
It was impossible not to look at him with his dark brown curly hair and his big sparkling eyes and not feel happy. To not
feel like, somehow, everything was going to be okay.
What was she doing, just waiting like this?
She searched for his name on her phone and called him.
It rang, which was hopefully a good sign.
It meant that he was at least charging his phone.
It was the international dial tone too. He was still, most likely, in America.
Potentially still Escondido, which Daisy had discovered was famous for its beautiful beaches and wineries.
She closed her eyes and tried to picture him there, laying back in the sun with a glass of red.
“Hi, you’ve reached Dan,” Dan’s warm yet mischievous voice greeted Daisy’s ears. “Firstly, lucky you. If you’ve got my number
I must really like you. Secondly, can you please hang up and send me a voice note like a normal person? Cheers.”
Daisy hung up and sent a message to his WhatsApp, Instagram, SMS and email.
I know you’re in Escondido. I am respecting your right for privacy, but Mum will not. If one of us doesn’t hear from you soon,
she will be on the next flight out there and I won’t be able to stop her. I love you. I miss you. TELL ME YOU’RE OK.
Once she’d done that, she messaged her mum.
I called Dan’s phone and it rang. Fairly sure he’s on the coast of California.
She didn’t go into the details. She knew that if Dan wanted their mum to know, he’d have told her. For whatever reason, this
trip he was doing was private, and Daisy respected that. If there was one thing she knew to respect in her family, it was
privacy. Don’t speak to the neighbors. Don’t go into their parents’ bedroom if the door was closed. Don’t tell the teacher
why you were late.
The N73 pulled up just as the feeling in Daisy’s hands was beginning to go from the cold and she climbed on, taking her usual seat, a scent of vinegar from someone’s late-night chips in the air.
The bus had a subdued energy, passengers gazing out the window or headphones in, as Daisy scanned the entertainment news until she reached Angel.
Some actress in her seventies had done a raunchy photo shoot which the tabloids were going wild for.
There was some new angle, as always, on Michael Jackson’s life.
She’d avoid that one. Kylie Jenner had announced a surprising use for her nipple cream (she put it on her lips) and a star from a US dating show had been canceled for promoting a weight-loss drug.
What was this? She saw Annabelle Fletcher’s name and clicked on it.
Annabelle Fletcher has rallied a host of female actresses to go on strike until greater roles are written for women over 35.
Over forty A-listers including megastars Gretchen Oliver and Beatrice Dowe have signed up to the campaign #StillGotIt led
by Fletcher, stating they’ll step away from Hollywood until more diverse parts are created for them to play. In a statement
Fletcher said, “Things have got to change. There is an absolute disrespect for women of a certain age in this industry, and
we’re not taking it anymore.”
Daisy knew she had a clip from her interview with Annabelle that she could use when she got to the office, but she opened
Instagram and clicked the message box above where Annabelle’s page boasted of 3.7 million followers and started typing.
Hi, Annabelle. I don’t know if you remember me from our interview at The Dorchester Hotel about Silent and Deadly (we spoke
about our dads) but I would love to speak to you about #StillGotIt. If you could offer me an exclusive, I can broadcast it
to our two hundred plus stations in the UK and overseas. This is an important campaign and it needs to be heard. Please call
me.
Daisy added in her phone number and clicked Send before putting her phone away, just as the double doors of the bus opened and she looked up to see Tom stepping on.
He was wearing a light gray beanie, a gray jumper and dark brown leather jacket, and jeans. He was grinning before he even
set eyes on her, but his face lit up further once he had. He raised his hand, signaled to the seat beside her and approached.
“What’s happening with your face?” Daisy asked, happy to see him.
“This old thing?” He pointed upward, the smile remaining. “You didn’t see my latest post?”
Daisy had gone straight to Annabelle’s page without looking at her feed and immediately pulled her phone out of her pocket.
“No?” she said, a flush of adrenaline racing through her body as she saw an email alert from Dan.
I’m ok. Please tell Mum. I love you and miss you too. More when I can. Xx
Daisy stared at the words. She knew it. Or she’d sensed it, but God it was reassuring to hear from him. She pushed away the
immediate intrusive thoughts: that perhaps he had been kidnapped and this was someone pretending to be him. Did he always
do two kisses? Did it sound like him? It was hard to tell in three short sentences.
Tom was looking across at her. “You okay?”
“My brother’s sort of been missing and he just emailed me.”
He leaned back. “What do you mean, missing? Is he alright?”
A man in a black baseball cap rang the bell and moved toward the double doors, waiting to jump off.
“He says so,” Daisy replied, and perhaps it was the shock, or the concern that had replaced the smile on Tom’s face, but she
handed him her phone. He pulled at his lip as he read it.
“Does that definitely sound like him?” he asked, and Daisy’s chest expanded, because clearly he’d had the same suspicions.
“It’s hard to tell.”
“Could you reply and ask him to prove it’s him, somehow?”
“Yes, but it could still be the kidnapper who replies,” she said before covering her mouth. She didn’t want to show him the
extent of her concerns, in case it wasn’t what he meant. In case he laughed at her, which would be understandable.
“That’s true,” he said, his forehead creasing. “Ask for a selfie?”
“You don’t think it’s silly for me to suspect a kidnapper has his phone and is emailing me, pretending to be him?”
Tom shook his head. “I know you a little bit by now, Daisy. You don’t ever seem to jump to conclusions. You actually seem
very measured and thoughtful. So if you’re telling me now that your brother has been missing and there’s even the tiniest
chance he might have been kidnapped, I believe you.”
God. Tears shot to her eyes out of nowhere and Daisy turned away, blinking to get rid of them. What would he think of her
if he knew that what he’d just said had made her cry? Except she knew the answer to that too. He seemed to accept any reaction
she gave to anything, without thinking less of her.
“King’s Cross Station,” the bus announced, and the woman sitting in front of them rang the bell.
“Sorry, anyway, I’ll deal with that later. Instagram, you said,” she muttered toward the window, opening the app.
It appeared top of her feed as the bus pulled in at King’s Cross and a few people stepped off, a blast of cold air hitting
her face as they left. Did top of her feed make it obvious Daisy had regularly been checking Tom’s page? It was only for signs
that Sophie was changing her mind.
“Oh wow,” Daisy said, laughing as she took in the photos. “What in all that is holy is a laughter retreat?”
The grin was back on Tom’s face.
“I took a photo of a guy who’d done one and I thought . . . if I’m going to have to do something on my own, I’d rather be happy about it. So that’s what I did.”
“And?”
“Well, it’s true. It turns out it’s impossible to feel sad when you’re laughing. Smiling, even. I feel like a new man. My
best mate, Ralph, has stopped calling me the walking gray cloud, which made it all worth it.”
Daisy ran her eyes over Tom’s face. She wasn’t sure she could ever have called him that. He was often deep in thought, or
earnest, or focused, but he didn’t ever seem consumed by sadness.
“That doesn’t sound like a nickname you deserve.”
“Believe me, it is. I think I just save it all for him.”
Daisy clicked on the comments beneath the photo.
“Sophie commented!” Her voice was shrill and Tom laughed.
“She sure did.”
“Quite a clever comment, actually,” Daisy said, piecing together the tiny scraps of information she had about Sophie to form
an image of her. “To say ‘hilarious.’ Because your face in some of these photos is hilarious, but also you’re being hilarious as part of the retreat.”
Tom nodded, pride washing across his face. “She’s pretty smart.”
“I think I know what we need to do next.” Daisy clapped her hands together, surprised by her own enthusiasm. “I think we need
to do a makeover. It’s like Sophie’s sensing a change in you and we need to act on it.”
“But what about Orlando?”
“It’s in there,” she said, pulling out the book, reading aloud.
“Okay. ‘Vain trifles as they seem, clothes have, they say, more important offices than to merely keep us warm. They change our view of the world, and the world’s view of us.’ I was thinking, if it wasn’t too much, you could even post that quote alongside you in a whole new outfit. ”
Tom looked down at himself as though he were seeing his outfit for the first time. “You don’t think she liked my clothes?”
he asked and his tone was matter of fact rather than hurt.
“I’m sure she loved them,” Daisy rushed to say. “It’s more about you giving her the sense you’re moving on.”
He nodded. “Okay. I think I like it.”
“I can come? Wednesday afternoon after I finish work?”
“Great,” Tom said, his face lighting up. He pointed at his smile and then nodded at Daisy, encouraging her to smile too. They
sat like that, side by side, until the bus reached Goodge Street and she jumped off. Tom was right. It really did make you
feel better.