Chapter Seventeen Daisy
Chapter Seventeen
Daisy
Tom was so professional on meeting Zack that it was almost as though he actually were a stranger Daisy had only communicated with a few times over email. Like they hadn’t spent the last few weeks side by side,
talking and laughing. Shopping and dancing. Reading and confiding in each other.
“These are stunning, mate,” Zack said, flicking back and forth through photos in Tom’s portfolio. They were at the table in
their kitchen after Zack insisted that if Tom was doing a job and getting paid for it, he was the one who should travel. She’d
tried to tidy every time Zack was out of a room, because she thought that if he noticed how much she cared about Tom’s arrival,
he might start to question why.
Daisy leaned over Zack’s shoulder with equal enthusiasm, because she hadn’t seen this work before. He didn’t talk much about
his talent as a photographer, only his love of it. He’d never mentioned to Daisy, for example, that he had won Portrait Photographer
of the Year and been shortlisted in the National Portrait Gallery competition. Or that his work had been featured on the front
covers of Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar and that the supermodel Kiki Lawrence would only agree to a shoot if Tom was the photographer. Daisy frowned, her eyes on
the images.
“Hate to be crude about this but . . . can we afford you?” Zack asked, as Daisy had told Tom he probably would.
“You’re actually doing me a favor,” Tom said, relaxed, repeating exactly what they’d prepared. “I do a lot of portrait work,
but I need to expand my wedding portfolio. I reduced my pricing for a bit to build up a few clients in that area and Daisy
must have landed on my site at just the right time,” he said, glancing across at her and then quickly looking away the moment
Daisy’s eyes met his.
Zack paused, his hand resting on one of the pages—a photo of Kiki Lawrence, naked, long hair running down her back, her face
in shadow. “Does that mean there’s a chance you might not be good at wedding photos? Just, I imagine portraits are a different
skill set and we want something quite specific with ours,” Zack said as Daisy tensed beside him. “We want to make sure we
get all the classic shots . . . group family ones, the two of us, Daisy getting ready and me waiting at the aisle . . . but
we want it to look natural, you know?”
Tom nodded, eyes wide from really listening even though Daisy knew Zack had asked for the one thing Tom found frustrating.
“Of course. I love that idea. And I understand your concern but if you keep going, you’ll see I’ve done some weddings and
the clients were happy, I just . . .” He glanced at Daisy again. “I want to do more. I’d like to do yours.”
Zack flicked through the rest of the photos, reaching the back of the folder to a bride in a white dress, laughing as her makeup artist leaned in toward her.
A group of wedding guests arriving, obviously late, running across the grass holding hands.
The groom, staring down at his speech, tears in his eyes.
The happy couple turning to face the wedding party, hands squeezed together and raised up toward the sky, delight across both their faces.
Daisy stared at that one, trying to replace the faces of that bride and groom with the faces of her and Zack.
She couldn’t do it. Her head started spinning and she felt like she was losing focus.
Should she be worried that she wasn’t able to imagine her own wedding day?
That the thought of it sent her head spinning? She leaped backward.
“Anyone want a drink?” she asked, her voice catching slightly in her throat.
“Tea thanks, babe,” Zack muttered, not looking up.
Tom turned and fixed his pale blue eyes on Daisy, his eyebrows drawing together. Scanning her face, he lifted a hand, lowering
it again, his head tilting to one side.
Daisy turned and walked toward the kettle, heart pounding. “Coming right up,” she said in a voice more shrill than usual.
She remembered Clara’s breathing and tried to do it as she stood at the kitchen sink filling the kettle with water. In, two,
three, four, five. Hold, two, three, four, five. Out, two, three, four, five. Hold, two, three, four, five. What was happening?
Her body was reacting so much more strongly than her heart and mind, and she couldn’t seem to get a grip on herself.
All the time she could feel Tom watching her and having him there, in her kitchen, his gaze on her at the sink, was making
her feel something. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was sending heat to her cheeks and it wasn’t helping with the dizziness.
If anything, it was adding to it.
“I’m just going to . . .” She flicked the kettle on and walked out of the kitchen, into the sitting room. She sat down on
the sofa for a moment and put her head between her legs. It was something her mum used to make her do when she was little
and got spells of feeling faint. It wasn’t making any sense. This was meant to be a happy occasion. Maybe it was the lying,
or Tom being in her home instead of on the bus? Was it the feeling of the wedding now being only six weeks away that was making
her spin?
“Great, well I’ll be in touch,” Tom said, his voice getting closer. Zack would still be sitting at the kitchen table waiting for his tea. He wasn’t really the type of man to show a visitor out of the house, in particular one who he considered worked for him.
Daisy stood up, wobbling slightly and turned to see Tom in the doorway, his messy light brown hair ruffled and his portfolio
under his arm. He gazed at her and paused.
“Well, great to meet you in person,” he said, loudly, holding out his hand. Daisy moved toward him, closing her eyes in an
effort to shake the dizziness before putting her hand in his. It was warm and comforting. Adjusting his grip slightly, he
shifted her a little closer to him, her tongue dry as sandpaper.
“You okay?” he mouthed. She swallowed and nodded, unable to speak. They locked eyes and in Tom’s gaze Daisy felt everything he wasn’t
saying. He didn’t look away.
Frozen, she continued to watch him, scanning his face with her eyes as she thought of something to say. Words were failing
her. Eventually she shook her head and stepped past him, walking on slightly shaking legs to the door to let him out.
“Well thanks for coming,” she muttered, unable to look at him. He waited and she glanced behind her to where Zack was sitting.
To where he’d appear from if the goodbye took too long.
“Okay,” he said, stepping outside. “See you,” he shouted, walking onto the pavement beyond their house before turning back.
“See you,” Daisy said, raising a hand to him as he stopped on the pavement to watch her, concern etched across his face. Before
he could mouth something else she didn’t have the answer for, she closed the door, his pale eyes on her until the last moment.
She turned away and leaned back, resting her head on the solid wood. Whatever this was, it couldn’t continue.
“Daise, what is going on?” Unsure what else to do, she’d called Clara and asked for emergency wine. Potentially not the best idea for what seemed like an anxiety attack, but better than sitting at home with Zack long enough for him to start analyzing her.
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Daisy said, putting her head in her hands.
They were squeezed into the corner of the Three Crowns on Stoke Newington Church Street, which was so busy that all the windows
were steamed up and there was a constant loud hum of voices.
“I think you just need to let your hair down a bit. You seem so worried about everything, all the time.” Clara bit on her
lip, scanning the room. “I know,” she said, her face lighting up. “Wine and shots here, then we move on.”
“Uh-oh . . . To . . . ?”
“The lesbian bar around the corner, which does . . . karaoke.” Clara raised her eyebrows and Daisy laughed. She had no desire
to do karaoke, but she was also quite keen on the idea of Clara being around other lesbians in case she met one she liked
more than her fake internet girlfriend.
“Fine.”
“What? I thought that would be a way harder sell. Really?”
“Yes. You’ve caught me at a weak moment.”
“Babe,” Clara said, reaching across the sofa to rest her hand on Daisy’s arm. “No offence, but that is your default status
at the moment.”
“I knoooow,” Daisy said, fed up.
“I know you said you’d done therapy in the past, but is it worth considering it again? I think it would be super helpful,
given you don’t seem to have any idea what’s bothering you and yet everything seems to be. Leisha swears by it. She reckons good therapy can change your life.”
Good therapy. That was Zack, wasn’t it? So good that she wanted to keep him in her life, forever. Daisy bit at her thumb. “Good idea. Right.
Shots, you said?”
Two hours later the two of them squeezed through the doors of the hidden lesbian pub in Stoke Newington, sitting up a side street beyond a kebab shop and a mini market that sold everything from batteries and balloons to clothes pegs and Snickers bars, which is what they stopped in for briefly to “soak up the booze.”
The pub was only one room inside with a bar running along the right-hand side and it was absolutely heaving. Someone was just
inside the door on the microphone, giving Madonna a solid half effort about life being a mystery. Within seconds, as she reached
the chorus, the whole bar burst into song.
Clara turned to Daisy and grinned. “It is absolutely impossible not to let your hair down here.”
They pushed past groups of people talking and laughing, dancing and singing. Daisy could feel an energy rise in her chest
that was so different to the energy she’d been used to recently. This one was more positive. Excitement, as opposed to fear.
Daisy ordered another wine while Clara, in what Daisy felt was quite a ridiculous decision, switched to a pint of lager. They