Page 17 of Dear Daisy

‘I shouldn’t h-have asked.’

‘No! No, I’m glad you did.’ Because now I don’t have to worry about slipping up and saying something, dropping his name. ‘It was all six months ago now, so, you know, old memories.’

‘Winter.’ Alex closed the gap between us and put his arms around me. He was tall, taller than Dan had been, broader and harder, the difference took my breath for a second. ‘I’m s-sorry.’ The words ruffled my hair, one hand rubbed up and down my back as though he was calming a child. The tears thought about making a resurgence but fell back as I took in the sheer glory of being held against Alex; those trousers were every bit as snuggly soft as they looked, his shirt was crisp, his skin, where it showed at the neck of the shirt, smelled of a sharp masculine fragrance and I could hear his heart beating underneath it all. A steady thump, which sped up whenever I moved, however slightly. Above everything, though, was the rising smell of coffee. ‘Oh, b-bugger.’

I laughed and took a step back. ‘Not recommended when you’re holding a mug, Alex.’ My cup had become part of the general hug and had tipped my drink down the front of his shirt.

‘I w-wondered what that was. I just th-thought you came armed.’ He held his arms out to the sides to free me to move back completely. ‘Th-that’s a sod.’ Then, before I could say anything, he pulled at the back of the collar and took the shirt off over his head, slithering out of it like a snake shedding its skin.

Well.

My eyes became paralysed by the sight of the red blotch on his torso where the hot coffee had gone through the shirt, but he seemed more concerned with the fabric itself. ‘I’d b-better put this in to s-soak.’

Oh, don’t hurry on my account.

It was clearly the chest of a man who works hard rather than a man who gyms hard. Rather than pecs that made his nipples look like a couple of dartboard bullseyes, he had a nicely normal shaped torso, just a little perter and less ribby than some, and without the attempt to escape sideways of others. A highlight of hair dusted broadly across the top, then got its act together into a narrow line which disappeared down into his waistband. I’d forgotten the tears. Hell, I’d practically forgotten my own name.

Dan, the first time I saw his body. Taking off his T-shirt almost apologetically. ‘I’m not exactly Chris Hemsworth, but I make up for it in . . .’ a wry comedy glance downwards. ‘No, actually I don’t make up for it at all.’ But so at ease with his athletic muscularity, so at home in his own skin that I never thought about a lack of biceps, only that it was Dan. That he was strong enough.

I shook my head free of the memory.

‘I n-need to get this in w-water.’ He held the shirt up to the light, causing some interesting muscles to come into play in his upper arms. ‘And I’d b-better check on Scarl.’

‘And I ought to get home.’ Am I really thinking of the cottage as home? I’m either going native or shrinking. I drained my mostly-depleted mug down to the sludge in the bottom. ‘I’ll catch you later, maybe?’

Alex nodded. ‘Th-thanks again. I’ll email you. It’s easier.’ And then he gave me a beaming smile that turned those serious grey eyes into hazard lights.

Outside Scarlet had disappeared, but had clearly not gone far because Light Bulb was tied to a drainpipe. I looked at his befuddled expression. ‘You and me both, mate, you and me both,’ I whispered, and headed back to the car.

Chapter Nine

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Sorry. Again.

God, you wouldn’t believe how fed up I get with saying sorry — when the stammer cuts in, and there’s a whole row of faces waiting for me to say something, and then I try to apologise but I can’t even get the ‘sorry’ out without stammering. But, fed up as I may be, I still have to say it to you here. Winter, I am so sorry I made you cry. I’ve come to think of you as this rather tough girl, always alone, always so capable and just . . . there in every situation. I’ve got this little mental fantasy (nothing like that, obviously) of you being all sort of Catwoman. Only probably without the stunts, now I come to think of it. But seeing you cry . . . well, I’m really rather glad that the coffee got spilled because I had no idea what the next step was going to be. Crying made you softer, somehow, someone I wanted to hold (hope I didn’t freak you out when I hugged you!). I don’t deal so much with adults, you can probably tell. When Scarl falls over or something, one quick hug and she’s back up and running. I forget that sometimes adults have hurts that can’t be got over with a hug. I’m guessing yours comes into that category.

You should never have been made to choose. That’s all I’m going to say on the subject. I don’t know the circumstances after all. I’d have thought that your Dan would just have to find a way to work around things, to make sure you had time with your sister and with him — it shouldn’t be so hard really, should it? Unless there was other stuff in his head, maybe he’s just messed up.

Okay. Now that’s out of the way. A couple of things. Firstly, because I know you should always ask for favours upfront — is there any chance at all that you could pick Scarlet up from school on Monday? I’ve just had someone reschedule something and Mum, who usually picks up the slack, has got to go to Middlesbrough for an appointment. No pressure, absolutely, if you can’t then that’s fine and I can slip away for twenty minutes, or ask Lucy to bring her back after she’s finished, only it’s the bank, and I really don’t want to give them any chance at all to find me unfit to run a business. It’s tough enough convincing them that Scarlet doesn’t interfere with my ability to earn them pots of money anyway.

Oh. And do you fancy coming over for a meal on Monday night? I know popular convention says that I should take you out for dinner but babysitting being what it is, and Mum not being able to have Scarl overnight because she’s got to leave early in the afternoon for her appointment . . . I can cook, honestly.

Alex

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: It’s okay

You didn’t upset me. Really. I know I cried, but it’s mostly because I feel stupid. Stupid that I ever let Dan get close enough to even question my relationship with Daisy. There’s something about being a twin that’s impossible to describe. She’s my other half. She’s nicer than me, really, she’s kinder and softer and she cries all the time. I’ve even known Daisy to cry at football results. When we were little my parents had to tape shut the story of the Ugly Duckling because Daisy used to cry at the pictures every time. She’s more compassionate than me, more imaginative, more . . . everything. It’s as though when we were in the womb and all the attributes were being doled out, she got all the nice ones, all the artistic and sensitive ones, and I got the practical ones. It does mean that I can hold my own in a swearing contest, and drink seven pints of beer before I fall over, but that’s not always a good thing. She’s just better than me is what it comes down to. And I know I should feel jealous, I should be all narrow-eyes and hissy whenever her name is mentioned, but I love her. Not loving Daisy just isn’t an option, and that’s where Dan went wrong. You’re right, he should have just let things go on, let me have Daisy and fitted himself in around us both, but he couldn’t. Maybe he was messed up, or maybe he thinks Daisy is better than me, I don’t know.

Of course I’ll fetch Scarlet on Monday, don’t worry. Please send her in with a letter though, saying I’m coming, that Ms Charlton is a bit scary! And I would love to come to dinner. I trust Light Bulb won’t be eating with us?

Winter

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