Page 58 of Dear Daisy

‘And what about me, then, hey?’ His voice was so gentle. ‘You chose Daisy that night, Win, and I had to go because I couldn’t bear to watch what you were doing to yourself. You wouldn’t grieve—’

‘You just wanted me to shut up and stop talking about her!’ I yelled through the tears. ‘You didn’t understand.’

Dan came over. Very, very close, so I could see those black eyes, see the compassion that I didn’t want. ‘You have to let her go.’ Now his voice was less gentle and more weighted. ‘I do understand. Honest, I do. But she died. Meningitis is a bitch, Win, it was sudden and you had no time to get used to being without her. I stared down the barrel of losing my sister and I don’t think I could have done it and walked out of that room the same man I went in. You have to let yourself be changed by it. Not forget, never that, Christ, no, you always had a twin sister, but you have to take on board what happened and let yourself move on.’

Let him go again. When Daniel is gone, none of this happened. We can be together, talk like we always did, and he . . .

But he’s told them all now. They all know.

So, you don’t belong here anyway. Go back to London. Or France, yes, go and stay with Mum in France again — loads of potential books in French graveyards; all those war stories.

Except it’s nice here. Quiet and slow moving, it’s easier to think. Not always having to rush from place to place, I can walk by the river when the writing isn’t going so well and the hills are all moorland and stuff and it’s like living in a calendar picture.

Whatever. But they’re all going to feel sorry for you, and do that ‘hushed voice’ thing and treat you very, very carefully and start talking about therapy and counselling and that crap.

But it’s Daniel. The man I fell in love with but had to leave. He’s been in my heart, ever since; remember what happened with Alex, how I couldn’t sleep with him because he wasn’t Dan?

The door banged open. ‘There you are.’ It was Lucy, looking so down-to-earth in her school smock that Light Bulb bobbing in her hand was like a Photoshop blunder. ‘Scarlet is asking for you, Winter.’

I could just run. Find a bus, find a train, leave this place and these people who know. If I can get away, then Daisy is still alive. Surround myself with crowds who never knew.

And then I thought of that little girl. Of her desperation to keep what remained of her mother close to the extent of putting life into that stick-and-fabric horse. Breathing life into the inanimate, because the alternative was too dreadful to contemplate. ‘Yes.’ I struggled to sit up.

Dan didn’t look back. He walked past Lucy, shrugging himself into his coat as he went, without any kind of farewell and, as Lucy and I reached the doorway I saw him walk off down the corridor towards the entrance to the hospital. ‘Dan,’ I tried to shout after him, but my voice was a dry squeak. ‘Dan.’

Lucy gave me a sideways look. She didn’t say anything, but the hand not supporting Light Bulb gave my shoulder a quick rub and her mouth did a kind of straight-line smile. It was all the sympathy I could take right now, and I was curiously grateful for it.

‘I found her, Scarlet.’

The room was brighter now. A nurse was fiddling around, doing something to a drip while Margaret got in the way, and Alex was sitting leaning towards the little girl, who I could now see had one arm in a plastic cast and a sling supporting the other. Her face was almost transparently pale. ‘Hey,’ I said, against the images that were trying to push forward in my head. It’s Scarlet not Daisy. This is nothing to do with that time, this is now.

Everyone turned to look at me and the air thickened with their curiosity and doubt. Dan had just shown me up as not the person they’d thought I was. From being an ordinary, if such a word can ever be used about a writer, everyday person, I’d become something strange. Someone whose thought processes they couldn’t even guess at. But they didn’t matter now. None of it mattered now. ‘Hey,’ I said again. ‘How are you feeling?’

Scarlet’s eyes were on Light Bulb. ‘I was riding, wasn’t I? You saw me, Winter.’

I glanced across and met Alex’s eye. He nodded slightly, but he too was looking inwards. Obviously re-writing his mental image of me, editing all our conversations, checking them over for any clear signs of my insanity.

‘Yep. You were doing a good job too until that horse got over-excited and chucked you off.’ I decided on matter-of-fact. No one could challenge me if I was more straightforward than a Roman road.

‘Will you take me riding?’ Her voice was faint now, her eyes closing. ‘You’re going to get Alex to give me riding lessons, you said.’ Dropping towards sleep, probably induced by the drip towering over her head.

‘I’m not sure I’ll . . .’ I wanted to say it. To tell Scarlet, to tell them all that I was leaving. How could I stay, how could they expect me to stay, now that they all knew about Daisy?

Eyelids traced with pale-blue veins flickered and opened, with effort. ‘You said, Winter. You mustn’t lie, you know.’

Why not? My whole life for the last five years has been built on a lie . . . The thought travelled down through my brain like a nail falling through water. There was a collective weight of eyes on me that almost buckled my knees. ‘You’re right. Of course I’ll take you riding. When you’re better though, you can’t ride with . . .’ I looked her over, there seemed to be wires and tubes coming from all over. ‘. . . until you’re all better.’

Scarlet smiled a smile of such happiness that everyone in the room smiled too, as though it was infectious. ‘Mmmmm,’ she sighed and her eyes finally closed. We were all silent for a moment, until the machine to the left of the bed began blipping a regular heartbeat and it was clear that she’d just gone to sleep.

‘Th-thank you,’ Alex said, quietly.

I tried to smile, failed. Inclined my head, and left the room.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: I think you already know

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