Outrageous plans or not, everything went on the back burner the following day (New Year’s Eve) because David was finally discharged. The hospital had lent him, in no particular order, a wheelchair, a Zimmer frame, a pair of crutches, and had also arranged to have one of the beds from upstairs moved into the dining room, and the table relegated to the garage by two burly men, because David wasn’t yet able to negotiate the stairs.
And if that wasn’t enough, Daisy was expected to share the spare bed with her mother tonight because Daisy had arranged to go to a party with Sara, which she had forgotten about in all the excitement over the past few days. Sandra had insisted on staying over for the night to babysit David, who, she maintained, needed a good wash. David, in pain and very irritable, wasn’t best pleased to be called a baby, or to be told he could do with a bath.
‘You’re being a baby now,’ Sandra insisted. ‘I’ve seen it all before, you know.’
‘I don’t want a bath.’ David glared at his mother.
‘That’s just as well, because you can’t climb the stairs. What you need is a proper bed wash. I bet those nurses didn’t give you one.’
‘I’ll give you one in a minute,’ David muttered under his breath.
Daisy, sitting beside him on the sofa, giggled. Her brother bared his perfect teeth at her.
‘I’ve borrowed one of Mrs Danson’s chairs as well,’ Sandra said.
‘Mum,’ David sighed. ‘We’ve got plenty of chairs, four in the kitchen, six in the dining room, two in here and a three-bloody-seater sofa. Will you just stop fussing!’
‘But this one is electric. You sit in it and press a button and it lifts you back out. You can’t expect our Daisy to manage you. She’s got fewer muscles than a slug, and Zoe isn’t allowed to lift anything.’
‘Oi!’ Daisy cried. ‘I’m planning on going to the gym, I’ll have you know.’
‘Why bother? You’re allergic to exercise,’ her mother replied. ‘It brings you out in a rash,’ she added, giving Daisy a hard stare. ‘Look what happened the last time you went for a jog; you had a red rash all over your backside.’
‘It was a heat rash.’
‘If you say so,’ Sandra retorted. ‘Now, David, about that wash.’
Daisy fled, but not before she heard David yell, ‘You can stick that flannel where the sun doesn’t shine,’ and their mother’s determined reply of, ‘I intend to, son. It could most likely do with a good scrub.’ Zoe’s soft laughter followed her up the stairs.
Daisy was still chuckling to herself when she did a final check in the mirror: sparkly black dress? Tick. Strappy, impossibly high heels? Tick. Flashy gold necklace and bracelet to match? Yep. Lipstick on, hair done, and false eyelashes in place. All she needed was a quick squirt of her favourite perfume, grab her black, beaded clutch, and she was ready to go.
Her mood had lifted considerably since her useless internet search. She knew it was all down to the prospect of a good night out, a new year ahead (out with the old, and in with the new) and that maybe babysitting her younger brother would be more entertaining than she’d first thought. At least staying at David’s house got her out from under her mother’s nose, except for tonight.
‘I’m not driving at that time of night, and I’m not paying for a taxi either,’ Sandra had stated. ‘Those New Year’s Eve rates are daylight robbery. I’ll get into bed with you, Daisy.’
‘I can drive you back home, I don’t mind,’ Daisy had offered, but her mother was having none of it.
‘You’ll be as pissed as a fart, if I know you, Daisy Jones. You won’t be in any condition to be driving anyone anywhere, except me up the wall.’
Daisy certainly hoped she was drunk, so she could ignore the fact that her mother was going to be sleeping inches away from her, because her mother snored. Daisy could hear it through two walls and across the landing. Goodness knows what it would sound like from less than a foot away.
She’d arranged to meet Sara in a bar in town, and she asked the taxi driver to drop her at the top end of Friar Street, an ancient cobbled street with buildings going back to medieval times, which had a lively atmosphere with many trendy pubs and restaurants. They’d arranged to meet in a pub called The Cardinal’s Hat, and it was packed with revellers dressed in their finery, and already well on their way to being three sheets to the wind, despite it being only eight o’clock. It was going to be a long night indeed, for some people.
She fought her way to the bar and ordered two white wines.
‘Making up for lost time?’ a voice asked in her ear.
‘Pardon?’
The man at her elbow wore a suit, no tie, shirt undone to the second button, and his dark hair was gelled back. Designer stubble coated his cheeks and chin, and his skin looked suspiciously bronze for the time of year.
‘Been anywhere nice?’ she asked.
‘Eh?’
‘The tan.’
‘The new salon up the road. I was going to offer you a drink, but I see you’ve got everything in hand.’
‘They’re not both for me,’ she said, taking a swift swig of hers, and thinking that if Sara didn’t put in an appearance in the next five minutes, they very well might be. After the week she’d had, she needed a couple of stiff ones.
‘Where’s your friend?’
‘Not here yet.’ Daisy checked her phone. No messages. She checked her watch: ten past eight. Plenty of time. Sara was renowned for being fashionably late. Daisy would give her another twenty minutes before sending a “where are you?” distress call to her friend.
‘I’ll keep you company until she arrives, if it is a “she”,’ the stranger offered.
‘It is a she,’ Daisy confirmed, ‘and she’s late.’
‘Typical woman.’
‘I was on time.’
‘You’re obviously not typical. You certainly don’t look typical to me. In fact, you look like a very special lady indeed.’
Smarmy, but she’d take it all the same. It was an awfully long time since anyone had chatted her up, and she was in the mood for some male attention, even though she wasn’t looking to take it any further. After the dent Freddie had put in her confidence, she was happy for this strange man to have a go at bashing it back out.
‘Married? Boyfriend?’ he asked.
‘Blimey, you don’t hang about, do you?’ she said.
The man was just under six-foot-tall (she took an educated guess) and she had to tilt her head back to look at him. She liked what she saw, even if he was a bit too smooth and cocky. He was good-looking enough to carry it off.
‘You can’t blame a man for wanting to know where he stands,’ he said. ‘I’m not aiming to tread on anyone’s toes.’
A man with morals? Refreshing.
‘No husband, no boyfriend,’ she said.
‘Bloody hell, Daisy. Leave you alone for five minutes and you’ve already bagged yourself a fella.’ Sara appeared at her side in a flurry of fuzzy brown hair and Gucci Rush.
The two women hugged and kissed cheeks.
‘Uh… I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,’ Daisy said to the stranger.
‘Art. And you’re Daisy.’ He held out a hand Daisy took it and they shook. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he said.
‘Nice to meet you, too,’ Daisy replied, then turned back to Sara. ‘Art was keeping me company until you decided to show up.’
‘The bus was late,’ Sara said, and Daisy rolled her eyes. Sara had probably been the type of school pupil who used the line “my dog ate my homework” – she always had some excuse for her tardiness. It was part of her charm.
‘I can carry on keeping you company if you like,’ Art said.
‘Er…’
As tempting as the offer was, three was most definitely a crowd. He let out a whistle, designed to be heard above the loud music, shouty voices, and raucous laughter.
‘Meet Ted,’ he said, as a man pushed through the crowd and joined them.
‘I don’t mind if I do,’ Sara breathed in Daisy’s ear. ‘This one’s mine, you’ve got your own.’
Far from being polished and smooth like Art, Ted was an uncut diamond, with long hair and loads of tattoos. He looked as though he should be in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt with a surfboard under his arm. Just Sara’s type.
‘I prefer the other one anyway,’ Daisy muttered out of the corner of her mouth as the introductions were made.
‘Sorted!’ Sara clapped her hands together.
‘Is it? What about Andrew?’
‘I can pretend, can’t I?’ Sara protested. ‘I don’t have to touch.’
‘You’d better not. Andrew would be devastated.’
‘I’ve no intention of breaking his lovely little heart,’ Sara retorted, ‘but you’ve got to admit, Ted is one damn fine piece of man.’
Daisy looked. The evening had the potential of having disaster written all over it, if Sara wasn’t careful. How Andrew put up with such a flirt for a wife, she couldn’t imagine. Sara’s wedding and engagement rings twinkled on her finger, and Daisy consoled herself with the thought that Ted could hardly miss them.
‘Where is Andrew tonight?’ Daisy asked.
‘He’s going straight to the party. We’ll meet him there later. In the meantime, I’m going to have a couple of drinks and a bit of fun.’
Sara downed her wine in one long swallow and plonked her glass on the bar. ‘Another please, barman,’ she said, and the barman duly obliged. Daisy, not to be outdone, finished hers and ordered a second. Already she could feel the alcohol sinking in, soothing her ragged nerves.
‘Any gossip?’ Sara asked, when the two men had their attention caught by the big screen on one side of the bar.
‘Hell, yeah! You’re not going to believe it,’ Daisy said. She hadn’t spoken to Sara over Christmas, so she hadn’t had a chance to fill her friend in on the series of disasters which had befallen her and her family.
‘I’ve been sacked, then Zoe announced she’s pregnant, or rather, David did, then she saved my life and—’
‘Woah, back up lady and slow down. Sacked? Pregnant? Lifesaving? I need details.’
Daisy leaned against the bar and began her story. ‘It all started with the sixpence,’ she said.
‘A sixpence? What’s that?’ Sara asked, before Daisy could go any further.
‘Old money, before decimalisation. It’s a coin about this big.’ She held her index finger and thumb a half an inch apart. ‘Smaller really, made of silver. Apparently, it equalled six old pennies. Gee-Gee got me to make a Christmas pudding and put it in.’
‘Why would anyone want to do that? Someone could choke on it.’
‘Someone did,’ she said dryly. ‘Me. At about the same time David told us Zoe was pregnant. Zoe had to thump me on the back because I seriously thought I was choking to death.’
Sara’s face was alight with astonishment. ‘Then what happened?’
‘I swallowed it,’ she replied.
‘Oh, God. Are you ok?’
‘I’m fine, but I’ve got to wait for it to come out.’
‘You mean—?’ Sara clapped her hands to her cheeks. ‘It’s still in there?’
‘Shush. Yes, but I don’t want the whole world to know.’
‘Can’t they operate?’
‘Apparently, it will come out on its own.’
‘How will you know if it has?’
‘Every time I go to the loo I’m supposed to check.’
‘That’s effing hilarious,’ Sara shrieked, and Art and Ted gave the girls an amused look.
‘Shut up!’ Daisy hissed.
‘Then what? You said you were sacked. Poor you.’
Poor me indeed, Daisy thought, trying not to think too hard about her unemployed status. ‘I went into work the day after Boxing Day, and Grumpy Simon told me they were going to make me redundant soon.’
‘They can’t do that!’
‘They can.’
‘So you’ve not been sacked then, but made redundant. That’s a relief because it’s hard to get another job once you’ve been sacked.’
Daisy was beginning to realise that. How could she have been so stupid. But then everyone in work used the internet for their own personal business, it wasn’t just her. That bitch, Melissa, had well and truly screwed her over.
Daisy explained what had happened.
‘The cow!’ Sara exclaimed. ‘What a lying, treacherous, two-faced…’
‘I know, but did you know that Zoe is a paralegal? You’ll never guess what her firm specialises in.’
‘Yeah, employment law, or something,’ Sara said.
‘How come you know more about my family than I do? First Freddie, now Zoe.’
‘Your mum told me.’
‘She never told me.’
‘I bet she did, but you probably weren’t listening. You were probably thinking about the next round of Valentine verses, I expect.’
Sara had a point. Daisy often had been known to go off on a tangent and think about work stuff if an odd comment or a throwaway remark started the creative juices flowing. But she also tended to tune her mother out, too.
‘Anyway,’ she said, finishing up the second part of her story. ‘Zoe said I might have a case for unfair dismissal.’
‘It’s worth a shot,’ Sara agreed. ‘You’ve got nothing to lose. You’ve certainly been through the mill, haven’t you?’
‘That’s not all.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘Zoe was pregnant with twins, but she lost one,’ Daisy continued, and Sara let out a small cry of sympathy. ‘Then David had a car accident on the way to the hospital and broke his leg in three places. He had to have an operation and has got a pin in his leg. Now he’ll bleep every time he goes through airport security. And to top it all off, I’m staying at David’s house to care for both of them, because Zoe has been told not to exert herself.’
‘Effing hell!’
‘Oh, and—’
‘Not more bad news?’ Sara yelled, forcing Daisy to tell her to shush again.
‘No, but the doctor who treated me when I went to A&E after I swallowed the sixpence, thought that David was my husband, and that I was the one who was pregnant. Then Zoe was rushed in when she miscarried one of the babies, and the doctor realised David was married to Zoe, but thought David had gotten both of us pregnant, and that I was David’s mistress.’
Sara collapsed against Ted, who manfully caught her and held her up as she dissolved into giggles.
‘I’m glad someone finds all this amusing,’ Daisy said, grumpily.
‘I’m sorry, but you couldn’t write this stuff,’ Sara gasped, dabbing underneath her eyes with the pads of her fingers.
‘Someone has had too much to drink already,’ Ted said.
‘No, someone hasn’t,’ Sara retorted. ‘But someone intends to.’ She straightened up, and smoothed down her incredibly short dress. ‘Whose round is it?’ she demanded, and Daisy steeled herself.
Here goes, she thought. Party time.