66

Con completed the second half of his bargain with Toby on Monday. At lunchtime, instead of hiding in the break room as he’d been doing every day since Daisy had been back at work, he went upstairs to the fashion department.

She was sitting on the edge of another girl’s desk, looking at some photographs. She was wearing a brown polo neck and a pale denim mini skirt, with a long knitted waistcoat. She glanced at him as he walked in, then glanced away again, muttering something to the girl.

‘Daisy,’ he started.

She looked up at him again, in surprise. ‘Yes?’

‘Are you busy?’

Daisy looked at the girl, then back at Con. She shrugged. ‘No,’ she said, ‘not really.’

‘Fancy lunch?’ He held the plastic bag aloft. ‘I made the bread myself.’

Daisy sighed, frowned, looked at the bag, looked at him. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Give me a minute.’

They took the sandwiches into Hanover Square and sat awkwardly side by side on a bench. Con passed a sandwich to Daisy. She took it, silently.

‘Crab and cucumber,’ said Con. ‘Home-made bread and organic butter.’

She handled the sandwich sadly. ‘I’m leaving,’ she said after a moment.

‘What?’

‘Vogue. I’m leaving Vogue. Leaving London.’

‘Why? It’s not because of …?’

‘No. It’s not because of you. Though what happened, it didn’t really help. No, it’s just not working out. I hate my job. I hate London. I miss all my friends back home. And it’s not fair on Mimi, having to look after me. So I’m going home.’

‘When?’

‘I’m working out my notice. Three weeks, then I’ll be gone.’

Con stared at his sandwich. He didn’t know what to say. ‘What will you do?’ he said eventually.

Daisy shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I might go to college. Or I’ve got a friend who owns a restaurant in the village. I could see if he’s got anything for me there. Maybe waitressing. I don’t know. All I know is that me and London didn’t click and I need to go home. I gave it my best shot. At least I tried.’

‘That’s fair enough, I guess.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘it’s the right thing. I feel happier already.’

‘I’ll miss you,’ he said.

‘Will you?’

‘Of course I will. Look, Daisy. I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I’m really fucking sorry about how things were. I’ve been a fucking idiot.’

She shrugged.

‘I don’t really know what happened.’

‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘It’s done. You don’t need to say anything else.’

‘No, but I do.’ He turned to face her. ‘Look, you were right. I freaked out, at the hospital. I lost the plot, completely. Seeing you like that, thinking you might be, you know, dying, and your family, they’re so different to mine. You know, fucking bassoon players with the fucking philharmonic whatever. I left that hospital feeling like I’d been on another planet.’

‘So, why didn’t you just say? I would have understood.’

‘I don’t know.’ He shook his head. ‘We were in the tea room, all those blokes in there. And I hadn’t worked out how I felt yet. I didn’t know myself what I wanted to do. But then, seeing you the next day, up there –’ He pointed at her floor of the Condé Nast building. ‘And you were so cold. We were like strangers. It just tore me apart. And I realized then that I have to give this a chance. Because, you know, love’s not always convenient, is it? Sometimes it’s just a pain in the arse. But if you don’t try, then you don’t know. And I want to try. And I want to know. Because otherwise I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what happened to the first girl I ever cared about, what happened to you. And that would tear me up, totally.’

It was silent for a moment. Con put his untouched sandwich back in the bag.

Daisy sighed. ‘I don’t really understand. What exactly are you saying?’

‘I’m saying that I love you and that I’m sorry for what I did and that I want to be with you.’

‘Oh, Con. Christ. It’s too late now. I’m moving away. It’s all too late.’

‘No’ he said, ‘it’s not. Toby’s offered to pay for my flying lessons. I’ve spoken to a couple of schools in South Africa that have got places, where I could start next month. But if you say that you’ll forgive me, if you say that you’ll let me into your life, let me be there for you, look after you, I’ll wave goodbye to South Africa in a flash. There are flying schools in this country. They’re more expensive, but Toby’s said he’ll lend me the money. As much as it takes. I could be anywhere. Anywhere that you are.’

Daisy sighed again. ‘But I’ll still be ill. My parents will still be my parents. My sister’s boyfriend will still be a bassoonist.’

‘Yeah, I know all that. But I won’t be me. I won’t be a post boy who shares a room with his mum in a jumped-up squat. I’ll be a trainee pilot. I’ll have my own place. I’ll be, you know, going somewhere. Being someone. I’ll be good enough for you.’

‘But, Con,’ she said, ‘that’s the whole stupid bloody point. You already were.’

‘No,’ he shook his head. ‘I wasn’t. I really wasn’t. But meeting you and knowing you, you make me want to be everything. I want to look after you. I want to make you proud.’

Daisy smiled then, and picked up his hand. ‘There’s a flight school two miles up the road from my parents’ place,’ she said. ‘I hear it’s a good one.’

‘Oh, yeah?’

‘Yeah. I’ll pick you up a brochure, if you like.’

‘Cool.’

Con nodded and smiled. Then they both picked up their sandwiches and ate them in silence, their hands firmly grasped together on the bench between them.