Page 55 of Dear Daisy

‘You have to stay strong, Winnie, you know that. You can’t fall apart now.’

‘I know that. I’m . . . I’m trying, but it’s hard. It’s . . . she’s so little. So frail. All those little bones, like she’s just straws and skin, and it’s not fair, Daze!’

My sister was quiet for a moment. ‘Okay. Okay, yes, it’s hard, she’s a little girl and you are very fond of her and you’re allowed to be upset.’

I blew out a breath that sounded too loud in this unnaturally hushed place. A low table held old copies of women’s magazines, scattered as though bad news had washed over them like a tide. ‘Poor Alex. He’s devastated, and Margaret looks as if she’s aged about forty years.’

‘Yeah, you think it’s hard for you. He’s got it tougher, poor bloke. And what about Dan?’ Daisy sounded wistful. Not sad, exactly, but definitely melancholy. ‘It must bring it all back, his sister being injured and everything. Being in a hospital, waiting for news . . .’

I looked over at Dan again. He’d given up the pretence of sleeping now and swivelled his body so that he slouched on a single chair. He was rubbing the chaos tattoo with the tip of a finger and staring at the wall as though his eyes couldn’t take much more.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It must.’

Talking to Daisy was calming me. She was sympathetic but everything she said was right, even about Daniel.

‘You sound as though you care, Winnie.’ Her tone was light, but I wasn’t fooled. ‘I mean, I don’t want to bring that up when you’re all distressed and stuff but remember. That’s all. Just remember.’

I’d never seen Dan so upset as that night on the bridge. Crying into the wind, leaning over the parapet so I wouldn’t see the tears, but I could hear them in his voice, see the pain in every line of his body as he made me choose. And now that man is sitting nearby, more pain, different pain, dragging at his limbs, pulling at his face as though grief has its own gravity. A shared pain now, not each of you in a separate cell of agony but together in a united agony of suspense and fear. ‘I do. And I wonder if I didn’t—’

A movement down the corridor, an opening door and Dan swung to his feet. ‘Winter,’ he said, softly, ‘they’re coming.’

‘Bye, Daze.’

‘Yes.’

And then Alex and Margaret were coming in. ‘Ap-apparently the n-next few hours are c-c-critical.’ Alex stumbled onto a chair and put his head in his hands. ‘If sh-she comes round, then . . .’ He stopped talking, his words lost not to the stammer but to branching futures.

‘We just have to wait and see.’ Margaret sat next to him and stretched a cautious hand to stroke his shoulder. ‘If she regains consciousness today, then things look hopeful. If not well, we cross that bridge tomorrow.’

‘Why d-didn’t I j-just let her h-have riding l-lessons?’ Alex said to his knees. ‘Wh-what was I s-so s-scared of?’

‘You were just trying to keep her safe,’ I said from across the room. Instinct told me to put my arms around him but he looked as though one person embracing him was enough and anyone else would just tip him over into claustrophobia.

Alex snorted. ‘Y-yeah, and I d-did a cracking j-job of th-that, didn’t I?’ He shook his head. ‘She j-just w-wanted to sh-show the bullies. To t-teach them a l-lesson.’ He started pulling at a loose thread in his dusty shirt. ‘Ch-Christ. I c-couldn’t have s-screwed up more if I’d h-hit her on the h-head myself. El-Ellen w-would have k-killed me.’

‘Well, Ellen isn’t here,’ Margaret said, sharply. ‘And you’ve done a very good job of bringing Scarlet up, so don’t start that nonsense. None of this is anyone’s fault, except possibly those thoroughly nasty children that forced her into sitting on someone else’s horse.’

Alex looked surprised under the general anxiety. ‘D-do you th-think so? I th-thought you th-thought I sp-spoiled Scarl.’

‘Well, you have, but a little bit of spoiling never did anyone any harm. You had piano lessons.’ And suddenly there were tears flooding down Margaret’s cheeks and she wound her arms tightly around her chest, as though trying to stop her heart from bursting out. ‘I can’t lose her too.’ Her posture was rigid but her face had crumbled into ages of worry and loss. ‘I can’t lose her.’

‘M-Mum . . .’

‘It’s not fair! I’ve lost my husband and my daughter already.’ Margaret put her hands up to cover her face. It looked as though she was trying to push the tears back inside her eyes. ‘Why should I lose our little Scarlet too?’ The rigidity was gone now, fear and grief made her slump forward onto Alex’s arm. ‘You’ve done so much, tried so hard, why should you have her taken from you now?’

‘It-it’s all right, Mum.’ Cautiously, as though he was a bit worried that she might bite, Alex scooped his arm around his mother. She seemed smaller, softer, less of a woman-sized package of loss-fuelled energy now, just a terrified grandmother in an out-of-control situation.

‘All you ever did was your best!’ Margaret raised a face that showed a mixture of anger and realisation. She seemed to be facing that moment when child becomes parent, letting Alex comfort her. ‘You are doing your best, and Scarlet . . .’ A moment of choked-off words, as though saying Scarlet’s name had the power to hurl her from us. ‘She’s growing up a fine young lady, which is all due to you.’

Alex sighed a laugh. ‘W-wow. Th-thanks, Mum.’

‘I miss your dad. And Ellen.’

‘I kn-know.’

Margaret stood up, away from Alex’s embrace. ‘Do you know, I seem to be spending a lot of time in hospitals, one way or another, what with the dreadful Mr Park and his dribbly willy problem.’ Although tears still streaked her face and her body shook with emotion, Margaret was back in control of herself. ‘And I have found that they almost always have some kind of coffee machine, so . . .’

Dan stood up. ‘Yeah. I’ll go.’

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