Page 15 of Whispers at The Bookshop Pretty Beach
As the door opened and the first lot of children began pouring out, some running, some still fastening cardigans, some already waving at their parents, Daisy stood back slightly, hands in her pockets and mused her new life and how sometimes before she’d lived at the bookshop, on the school run she’d always been waiting for the anxiety to drop in. Oddly, that feeling was no longer there. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel quite as much like she was standing on the edge of something. She didn’t feel like she had to brace herself for a huge bill or for something to unravel. She felt so much more settled and centred and that she didn’thaveto have a plan.
Having come from the other direction than normal, she was in a different spot from where she usually waited on the other side. Standing quietly behind a group of mums, she suddenly went cold when she realised that not only had they not seen her, but that they were openly, but quietly, discussing Margot and Evie.
‘They’re really nice little girls. My sister said twins are often disruptive in a class. She had a pair in my nephew’s class and it was a nightmare from the word go.’
‘Right, really? I haven’t heard that myself.’
‘Yes, I thought we might have to do something about it when I saw they were in our class, but so far, so good. I had visions of having put forward something to the committee.’
‘I mean, they look like angels. Apple doesn’t fall far from that tree, right?’
‘I know. Lovely little poppets, too.’
Daisy tried not to listen but couldn’t help herself. The two mums were just in front of her. ‘Did you see Daisy at the garden party?’
‘Didn't everyone? How good did she look? That dress. Do the Henley sisters ever look anything other than knockout? It’s not fair, really…’
‘I know.’ The voice got lower. Now more of a whisper. ‘Did you see who she was with?’
‘I did. How could anyone have missed him? I wouldn’t say no. I give it six more months. These men never stick around. How many times has Pretty Beach had blow-ins? I can’t believe she’s letting herself do that, to be honest. I mean, it’s none of my business whatsoever, but...’
There was a long pause, then the other one replied, her tone clipped and knowing. ‘Shame, really, because those girls are so sweet and they will be the ones who end up copping it, won’t they? What is she thinking? I’d be concerned about my kids if I were in her shoes, not gallivanting with any old one.’
‘Yep. There’s no way he’ll stick around. No way in the world. I’d actually lay money on it, wouldn’t you? As if he’s going to take on those twins! You’d need a medal to take on her and two children or clearly he has his own baggage. Am I right?’
Daisy didn’t turn away or step forward to make herself known. She didn’t speak, flinch or do anything. Instead, she swallowed, breathed for a bit, then gave them a very wide berth and moved to the other side of the fence. Her mouth had gonedry and the back of her neck prickled as if she’d just waded through something hot.
Even though she couldn’t see them, she could imagine the looks on their faces. The judging pursed lips and the slight shake of their heads. What they'd said zoomed around the inside of her skull. Miles was a passing distraction. Another man who would breeze in, get bored, and disappear, leaving her and the girls to get on with it.
Daisy felt as if someone had slapped her around the face. The words sat in her chest, on her cheeks and slammed into her shoulders. She didn’t know what stung more, the judgment or the fact it had been said oh-so-very casually as if they were discussing the weather. Like it was a fact that she was stupid and that the relationship was nothing. Totally and utterly dismissive.
The twins came out in a flurry of schoolbags bumping against knees, plaits a bit lopsided, jumpers already half-off before they’d reached the line of parents. Margot spotted Daisy first, and she broke into a run. Evie, just behind her, was doing up the last button of her cardigan.
‘Mummy!’ Margot flung herself into Daisy’s arms like they hadn’t seen each other in days.
‘Hello, darling.’ Daisy crouched slightly as she caught her. ‘Good day?’
‘Miss Pilkington said my letters are good. She even put a sticker in my book!’
Evie arrived beside her, pink-cheeked and slightly out of breath. ‘We had story time.’
Daisy smiled and straightened the collar of Evie’s dress. ‘That’s nice. Did you remember your recorder?’
‘It’s in my bag. I didn’t leave it in the library like last time.’
Daisy stood up, took both their hands, and started the shuffle away from the gate and towards the footpath that led down past the community centre and back home.
‘Mummy?’ Evie tugged at her hand. ‘Can we go through the alley with the swishy trees?’
Daisy blinked. ‘Yes, sweetheart. Of course.’
They turned right and slipped down a narrow lane that eventually ran behind the parade of shops with the florist. Ivy on the wall had started to turn red at the edges, leaves curling slightly from the weather. Margot skipped ahead a little, humming something under her breath. Daisy followed, smiling when she was supposed to, nodding in the right places when the girls spoke, but she wasn’t really there. Her head was full of the horrid words she hadn’t been meant to overhear. Playing over and over again in a loop, the words swirled, up, down and around her head.Six more months.
It wasn’t even about Miles, not really. It was the attitude of the two mums. The idea that they’d seen the same old story time and again before. That Daisy was predictable and bound to fail. Another woman with children and a man who wouldn’t stick around. They’d spoken about her as if she was blind, stupid and didn’t know the risks.
What they’d saidfullyrattled her. As if she hadn’t already spent ages second-guessing every step, questioning whether she was doing the right thing, wondering if she was getting carried away or opening up too much. As if she didn’t lie awake at night some days, wondering whether her heart had got ahead of her brain and now here they were calling her out for it, though just not to her face. They turned left at the florist, where on the corner, someone had chalked a heart on the pavement in pink.
Margot pointed it out. ‘Look, that’s from yesterday. It’s still there.’
