Page 20 of Dear Daisy

Scarlet cantered a small circle around a painted shape on the playground, concentrating furiously. I knew this meant she was probably listening as hard as she could to our conversation, although her expressionless face, between the bobbing, oddly lumpy plaits, gave nothing away. Lucy clearly thought the same. ‘Just . . . in here.’ She indicated the lobby inside the doors. ‘Scarlet, stay this side of the gates, please.’

The little girl threw us a look, and pirouetted in her own length. ‘Okay.’ She had affected disinterest, but I foresaw some probing questioning in my immediate future and was glad I’d bought the toffees.

‘I just wanted to ask you something.’ Lucy tucked more hair behind her ears. It was wispy and too fine to stay tucked anywhere, I noted. Along with the pointed little chin and big blue eyes it made her look a bit like a slightly simple Siamese cat.

‘You need to talk to Alex,’ I said, hastily.

She blinked, and both hands dived into the muff-like front pocket of the smock. ‘I’m sorry? Has he . . . ?’

‘I mean, I can’t really tell you anything about Scarlet. I’m only picking her up from school as a favour.’

Blink blink. ‘Oh, I see.’ More hair tucking. I wondered what was making her so nervous. ‘No, it’s more that I just wondered . . . Alex has invited you to dinner?’

Oh. Oh.

I looked out of the window so as not to read her expression. I really didn’t want to see anything combative in her eyes, not when I didn’t have the faintest idea how I even thought about Alex yet. ‘Just to say thanks for looking after Scarlet.’ I tried to make myself sound neutral, uninvolved. ‘We’re just friends.’

A moment, then an embarrassed throat-clearing made me look at her again. ‘So are we.’ She was holding out a piece of paper. ‘It’s a recipe. He was on Facebook, not knowing what to cook, I thought he might like to try this.’ And now her gaze was steady, still big, blue eyes but now holding something else. ‘I’m very fond of Alex.’ Not a challenge, not yet, but a warning. ‘And Scarlet.’

And I like the way he looks. I like the fact that he’s approachable and pleasant and, let’s face it, I haven’t spoken to many men in the last six months, let alone good-looking ones, so I can’t make you any promises, Lucy.

I took the folded paper from her hand. ‘He’s a nice bloke.’ I let my voice hold no more expression than hers, but an equal lack of challenge. I wondered whether Alex knew that Lucy wanted him; I knew she spent time around at the Old Mill, surely even Alex must have picked up on the fact that women don’t just ‘drop in’ on men unless they fancy them? Or maybe Great Leys was the world centre for platonic relationships and it was me getting the wrong end of the stick. ‘I’ll give him the recipe when I drop Scarlet off.’

Lucy smiled and there was a touch more warmth about her face now. ‘Thank you.’ She turned to open the door to the outside. ‘Is Alex coming to pick her up tomorrow?’

I shrugged, but the anorak absorbed the movement, so I said, ‘I would think so.’

‘That’s good.’ She turned to walk back inside, speaking to me over her shoulder as she went. ‘Perhaps you’d tell him that Dad . . . that Mr Moore would like to have a word with him? About Scarlet?’

Well, I didn’t think you were going to be correcting his spellings and giving him a maths test. ‘Is she all right?’

We watched her bouncing along, performing some complicated dressage move on the playground, staring solemnly between Light Bulb’s ears as her legs danced along another painted line. ‘She . . . there are some issues. I’ve already mentioned it to Alex, but Mr Moore wants a proper meeting up here at school.’

I walked on to catch up with Scarlet, and held out the bag of toffees. ‘Here. I thought it might be a bit chilly for ice cream. Sorry about having to chat to Lucy.’

‘’S okay.’ Bounce, bounce. ‘She wants to snog Alex.’

‘Does she?’

‘Mmm. She and Alex used to go out together. Lucy was Mummy’s friend.’

I had a moment of creeping prurient interest that told me I was likely going native and was only a London childhood away from taking up sheep-dip as a hobby. So, Lucy and Alex had a past, did they? But then again, they were similar ages, neither was a gargoyle, why was I surprised? I felt the edges of crumpled paper in my pocket, the recipe Lucy had given me, to ensure Alex’s dinner with me went off well; she was either a very generous lady or, despite Scarlet’s beliefs, had no interest in Alex any more.

I changed the subject. ‘What happened to your face?’

‘Nothing. Let’s go home.’

‘Scarlet, I . . .’

But she seized the toffees and wheeled suddenly away. ‘Light Bulb! Oh, he’s taken a hold I can’t stop him, Winter, he’s too strong,’ and she hurtled off along the pavement, leaving me to shuffle in pursuit all the way back to the Old Mill. When I arrived, Light Bulb was face down on the small patch of grass along one side. Through the glass doors I could see Alex inside, talking to a man in a much better suit than the head teacher’s, earnestly indicating a piece of paper and making marks on it with a biro. The door was ajar, as though Scarlet had hurled through and gone upstairs. Alex was clearly in full spate with the man from the bank, so, pushing Lucy’s recipe down into the depths of my anorak pocket, I turned back through the archway and headed back to the cottage.

* * *

‘She’s being bullied, Daze, I’m positive. Remember when you used to get picked on at school?’

Daisy giggled. ‘Only until we swapped places that first time. They didn’t know what hit them.’

‘I told you you should have fought back. They never gave you any trouble after that, did they?’ I sipped at my tea and leaned back into the chair. They’d never be comfortable, it was like sitting on a skeleton’s lap.

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