Chapter 35
M iles and Elizabeth had been in Pretty Beach for a few days, and so far, so good.
Elizabeth had hardly moved from the chair by the window and had loved the soup and the pie.
She’d ventured out into the cottage garden to sit in the afternoon sun, but overall, she was still frail and not really able to do much at all.
Miles had not let the fact that he wanted a serious discussion with Daisy go and once Elizabeth was settled, he’d told Daisy he’d wanted to meet to chat.
Therefore, a little jaunt to the pub had been arranged.
Daisy Henley was not sure what was going to be said.
The pub Daisy was meeting Miles at was on the far side of Pretty Beach, a stone’s throw from the cottage he was staying in with his mum.
A part of town that Daisy didn’t visit too often.
A picture-perfect little area with its own jetty, a gorgeous old waterfront cafe going by the name of The Old Sugar Wharf, a harbour full of bobbing boats and the view of the lighthouse in the distance.
As she walked along, Daisy looked at the various shops tucked down one of the side lanes and loved the familiarity of it all.
Each shop had been doing its own thing for most of her life.
All of them tightly packed onto an old lane, layered overhead with a muddle of Pretty Beach bunting and jostling for space along winding cobbled pavements.
Very, very nice and so far from the likes of GayesBooks, it wasn’t even funny.
Daisy tried not to think about that situation and continued on.
As she strolled, Daisy felt both her shoulders decompress from what had most certainly been a stressful few hours with the twins and a bit of unease in her stomach at the proposed “talk” she was going to have with Miles.
Pushing the door open to the pub, it was reassuringly the same as it always had been.
A tiny hole in the wall, which in Daisy’s youth had seen a few drunken evenings.
Stepping into the dinky pub, its shabby-around-the-edges ambience worked its magic; old weathered floorboards, a mishmash of worn furniture hinting of years and years of pints of beer, a small, squat, wonky bar, a lost-its-plump sofa wedged in the corner.
Miles saw her right away and motioned to a table where his phone was sitting next to a beer mat and his jacket looked as if it was about to fall off the back of a chair.
A man hunched over, who was staring into his pint at the near end of the bar, flicked his eyes up. ‘Daise, how are we?’
‘Good, thanks, Derek.’
‘Your mum?’
‘Yes, well.’
‘Sisters and your girls?’
‘All well, too, thank you. How are you?’
‘Fine. Keeping well.’
Derek went back to his pint, clearly with no intention of chatting further and wanting to concentrate only on being lubricated by his ale. It only took all of another two steps for Daisy to have to stop again as a woman with a bubble of grey hair smiled.
‘Daise. Long time no see. How’s the bookshop going? Anything about the GayesBooks thing happened?
‘Not as far as I know. How are you?’
‘Just off to Portugal tomorrow. We’re having a farewell drink.’
‘Lucky you. Have a lovely holiday.’
Someone else waved from a table pushed up against a pillar. ‘Daise! How are you?
You look really well. I’ll have some of what you’re having!’
Daisy giggled, ‘Hey, Matt. How are you?’
‘Great from my end.’
‘Good to hear.’
Finally getting to the table in the corner, which was tucked tightly between a huge old inglenook fireplace and a leaded paned window, Daisy kissed Miles and smiled. ‘Hi.’
‘Do you know enough people in here?’
‘You picked the smallest pub in Pretty Beach. I practically grew up in here.’
Miles chuckled. ‘What do you want to drink?’
‘The Locals Only, please.’
‘What is it?’
Daisy frowned as if Miles were asking the most ridiculous question. ‘I don’t know.’
‘But you’ll have it anyway?’
‘Yes, whatever it is, it will be amazing. It’s how we roll around here.’
‘Right.’
The warmth of the pub wrapped around Daisy the second she sat down.
It wasn’t just the heat from the old fireplace creaking, but more the layered smell of things that had been exactly the same for what felt like centuries.
Daisy inhaled as she got comfy and took off her jacket.
The pub smelt of roasted peanuts, old varnish, a puff of damp wool from a coat hanging too close to the radiator, something faintly citrusy that might’ve been a cleaning product and the scent of a long curl of dried hops draped over the bar.
Daisy loved the old pub full of memories.
A low and uneven-beamed ceiling where tall men ducked instinctively hung overhead and the walls were dotted with Pretty Beach memories: old horse brasses, dusty photographs in mismatched frames, a chalkboard listing pies that hadn’t changed since she was in her teens.
There was something very reassuring about it all.
The floor was uneven in parts and bowed slightly towards the fireplace, and the old leaded windows sparkled as she sat and gazed around.
In the corner nearest the door, a couple of old-timers were deep in an inaudible discussion.
A sort of low pub murmur hummed pleasantly against the clink of pint glasses and the clatter of a tray behind the bar.
Someone's collie lay completely stretched under a bar stool, paws twitching in sleep and the barmaid who Daisy knew from school with a ponytail and a stack of bangles, was pouring a shandy with one hand and handing back change with the other.
The whole place smelled of fire, beer, crisps and small-town life.
Daisy absorbed it all as she watched Miles at the bar.
The pub was old, worn, a bit scratchy, oh-so snug and full of history.
The sort of pub where you could disappear on a Sunday afternoon and emerge three hours later warm, slightly pickled, wondering what decade it was.
Daisy Henley was in her element and it was, in short, exactly what she needed.
Miles returned with two glasses and carefully put them down on the rickety table, sliding into the seat opposite Daisy. The window beside them creaked slightly as a gust of wind pressed against the pane, and outside, the shadows were starting to stretch.
‘There you go.’ Miles nodded at her drink. ‘The Locals Only. It turns out it’s a mix of some local pale ale and a splash of something cider-y.’
Daisy laughed. ‘You’re not meant to ask, but whatever, thank you.’
Daisy picked up her glass and gave it a sniff. It smelled of orchard fruit and malt. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’
‘How is your mum? I have to say that you look a million times better than when I saw you yesterday.’
Miles smiled, resting his hands around his glass. ‘I feel so much better after a few days here. She loves the cottage.’
Daisy’s face softened. ‘Good. I thought she might.’
‘She was a bit odd at first. She kept rattling on about how she didn’t want to be a burden, but once she’d had a cup of tea and settled herself into that chair in the sitting room, she barely moved.’
‘Sounds like it's doing its job. She needs to just stop and do nothing and let herself fully repair. Hopefully, those bruises and that scar will fade soon.’
‘She did stop. She fell asleep halfway through the afternoon with the radio on and a blanket over her. When she woke up, she asked for a second helping of that soup and then I kid you not, a second slice of the pie.’
Daisy beamed. ‘Did she?’
‘She said, and I quote, “That apple pie is the best thing I’ve eaten all year.” Then she asked if she could have it after supper if she didn’t finish it. Which is how I knew she was on the mend.’
‘The sugar crust on the top always helps,’ Daisy said, laughing. ‘It’s Clemmie’s signature move.’
Miles nodded. ‘You could see something shift in her. Like she let go of whatever tension she’s been holding since it all happened. She sat by the window and talked about the sea air being good for her chest.’
‘Of course it is.’ Daisy sipped her drink and looked across the table. Miles still looked tired but softer than he had the last few times they’d met. The lines of worry hadn’t gone, but they had definitely faded. ‘I’m glad she’s liking it.’
‘Me too. I didn’t know what else to do and being back down here, even just for the last few days, I’ve realised how much I miss it. How much I missed you.’
Daisy’s heart gave the tiniest of lurches.
‘Do you know what she said this morning? That she’d forgotten what it feels like not to be anxious about going out. Not that we’ve been out, as you know, apart from when you took her to coffee at Maisy’s.’
Daisy smiled and joked. ‘That’s the Pretty Beach air for you. Infused with sea salt, old gossip and cinnamon buns.’
‘It’s not just that. It’s the quiet and the pace. The way you can hear yourself think. I didn’t know how much I needed it until I got out of the car and smelled the sea.’
‘It’s why I never want to go anywhere else. I mean, why would you?’
‘I get it. So, what happens now?’
‘What do you mean?’
Miles narrowed his eyes and looked very serious. ‘I’ll cut to the chase. I want to make sure I am clear on, well, on us. We’ve done the I love you thing, but let’s be honest, I’m not exactly in the twins' life and as far as I can see, you three come as a package deal.’
‘Correct. You have met them…’
‘Yeah, but how long does that go on for? I’m not talking about adoption, but I think it’s time for me to be a bit more in if you see what I mean.’
Daisy didn’t know what to say. ‘Right.’
‘I feel a bit out on a limb. The girls are your life.’
‘Hmm.’
‘How do you feel about that?’
Daisy winced. ‘Unsure, is my honest answer.’
‘I love you, Daise. I think I’ve been in love with you since that ice cream incident.’
‘Well, that makes two of us.’
‘So, what do you think?’
‘I think that I need to think about it.’
‘That’s all you’re going to say?’
‘For now, yes.’