‘No, yes, I’m not sure. Maybe.’ No, because it was the immensely irritating Dr Hartley who was asking (she didn’t even know his first name); yes, because this was gorgeous brooding Dr Hartley who was asking; I’m not sure, because she wasn’t sure a doctor who had once treated her was allowed to ask her out. And maybe, because she’d have to check if her mother could David-sit. Her mother had set evenings for set activities, like bingo, flower arranging, (not that Daisy had seen any evidence of anything more substantial than a bunch of daffs in her mother’s house), and her pub quiz nights, which seemed to involve more socialising than quizzing.
‘Oh, I see. I’m sorry, I should have realised,’ Dr Hartley said.
‘Realised what?’
‘The man you were kissing last night. I should have guessed you wouldn’t be on the shelf for long.’
On the shelf, indeed! He made her sound like a dusty tin of forgotten peaches, hidden in the depths of an old lady’s cupboard.
‘I’m still on the shelf, as you so kindly describe it,’ she said, then wished she hadn’t as his expression became closed once more. Great – now he was thinking she was an easy lay, jumping straight out of Freddie’s bed and into some other man’s.
‘For your information,’ she said, ‘I only just met Art last night. I didn’t sleep with him,’ she added, aware that the hole she was so busy digging was getting deeper with every word she uttered. ‘It was just a snog.’
‘A drunken one?’
‘I wasn’t drunk, not very.’
‘You were lying on top of some random bloke, with your dress up around your waist,’ he pointed out. ‘You looked drunk to me.’
‘He rugby tackled me and I fell over,’ she retorted.
Dr Hartley was staring at her as if he wished he’d have been the one to rugby tackle her – all deep, and dark, and hungry. Her insides did a little roll of excitement.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I’d love to go to dinner, but we’ll have to confirm the date later. I’ve got to ask my mother to babysit first.’
‘You’ve got children?’
Would that make a difference, she wondered, and she said, not really having the faintest idea why, ‘Yes, two. Does that change anything?’
‘No,’ he said, but Daisy was certain she heard the hesitation in his voice, and she had no doubt that one of two things would happen now. Either he’d hedge about settling on a day and time so that nothing would ever come of their planned date, or they’d have dinner, then he’d never phone her afterwards.
Not a keeper then. This one wasn’t into baggage. Her opinion of him, which had slowly been creeping out of the gutter, plummeted back down with a clang. She debated whether to simply tell him she’d changed her mind. But what the hell, it was only dinner, and she guessed she might be ready for a break from caring duties after a couple of days.
‘I’ve got your number,’ he said. ‘I’ll call you.’
Yeah, right, of course he would.
‘Let’s take you to see Mr Young, shall we?’ he said, changing the subject, and she wanted to punch him in his patronising doctor’s face.
‘Daiseeeey.’ Freddie was still calling for her, sounding more like a lost toddler than the responsible man she knew him to be. But then, she hadn’t really known him at all, had she? Maybe this was the real Freddie.
‘I’m here,’ she said, pushing through the curtain, and Freddie’s disconsolate face lit up in relief.
‘My Daisy.’
‘Not your Daisy, not anymore,’ she reminded him, earning herself a “tut” from the nurse.
What was she supposed to do? Pretend they were still together and that everything was hunky dory? Freddie couldn’t expect things to simply go back to the way they were before, no matter how much he might want to crawl back into his closet and forget the whole sorry mess had ever happened.
‘Thank you for coming,’ Freddie said, more or less normally. ‘I didn’t know who else to ask.’
‘It’s okay.’ She’d expected to find him restrained or something, but he was sitting up on the bed with bandages around each wrist. He was also on a drip.
‘I’m sorry about Carl,’ she said, meaning it.
‘He was right to leave me,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure I am committed to the relationship. I’m not ready to tell…’ he swallowed nervously, the added. ‘My parents.’
Daisy thought, neither was she, as she recalled the nights they’d spent together in Freddie’s king size bed. ‘Perhaps you’re bisexual,’ she suggested.
He sighed. ‘Maybe I am. What can I do about it, Daisy? If I’m with a woman, I can’t help thinking about men,’ (she winced), ‘and when I was with Carl, I couldn’t help thinking about…’ He hesitated. ‘The hospital told me I’ve got to agree to counselling, and I have to see a psychiatrist before they let me out,’ Freddie said, mournfully.
‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Look on it as a kind of an MOT for the mind. We all need help sometimes,’ she added gently, ‘whether it’s physical or mental.’
‘Not you,’ he said. ‘You’re the strongest person I know. You’re never ill, except when you had flu once, and you’re tough.’
She smiled at that. ‘You think I’m tough?’
‘As old boots.’
‘Cheers for that.’
‘Nothing ever seems to bother you,’ he carried on. ‘You can cope with anything.’
His faith in her was flattering, but not at all accurate, and she thought again how little they had truly known each other. Yes, she knew where he liked to buy his boxer shorts, and yes, she knew he hated apples and loved oranges, but those were superficial things. She knew similar things about Melissa, and Melissa had only been a colleague. But she didn’t know the meaningful things about Melissa (clearly), and neither did she know the meaningful things about Freddie. The relationship had been surface deep – knowing how someone took their coffee in the mornings, wasn’t the same as knowing what scared them in the middle of the night, or knowing their most precious dreams.
That’s what had been missing, and she vowed she wouldn’t settle for less in any future relationship. She wanted to know a man’s heart and soul, and not just his shoe size.
‘Which is why I’m asking if you’d move back in with me,’ Freddie was saying.
Wait, what? Did she hear that right?
‘Not permanently, just to see how it goes. We were good together once, weren’t we?’ he said.
Were they? She supposed they were, but it had been based on a lie, and what she’d clearly thought was good, hadn’t been good for Freddie.
‘Plus, they won’t let me out without supervision,’ Freddie continued, and Daisy realised the real reason for his asking. He didn’t want her – he just wanted her as a guarantor for good behaviour.
‘I can’t,’ she replied honestly. ‘I’m living with David and Zoe for a while. David broke his leg and Zoe is pregnant, and has to rest.’
Once again, she felt sorry for her ex, but she couldn’t help him, because she didn’t want to put herself in an awkward position. It might be mean of her, but that’s the way it was.
However, she would stay with him until a bed was found for him on the ward, and she would contact his parents if she felt she had to. She wasn’t horrible enough to leave him without any support whatsoever, but she was determined she wouldn’t be the one to provide it. She had enough on her plate already.
When she eventually checked her phone later that morning, it was to find she had twenty-seven missed calls and sixteen texts, all from her mother, each message becoming more irate until the final text was all in shouty capital letters and involved a swear word or two.
Oh dear.
‘Mum?’ she said, as soon as her mother answered.
‘Where the hell are you, and why don’t you answer your sodding phone? I’ve been stuck with your brother all morning and unlike you, I’ve got things to do, like cooking New Year’s Day lunch for six sodding people. Get your arse back here now.’
‘Mum—’
‘I don’t care if he’s got buns of steel or whatever, shift your backside and get over to David’s house before I blow my top.’
It sounded like she already had, Daisy mused, and thought “buns of steel”?
‘I’m at the hospital, Mum,’ she said, and was gratified at the immediate contrition in her mother’s voice.
‘What happened? Are you hurt? Did someone attack you?’
‘What? No! It’s Freddie.’
‘Freddie attacked you? You wait till I get my hands on that little shit, I’ll—’
‘No one attacked me, Mum. Will you just listen for a sec?’
Sandra listened and wasn’t impressed. Daisy wished she hadn’t said anything.
‘I’d have preferred you to be late because some man has had his wicked way with you,’ Sandra grumbled. ‘Freddie deserves everything he gets and more.’
That’s the buns of steel comment explained, she thought, but her mother’s vitriol was a little hard to stomach. Once again mankind (the male part of it) had reinforced Sandra’s idea that all men were wasters and couldn’t be depended on.
Just as Daisy was about to end the call, she remembered something. ‘Any chance of babysitting sometime this coming week?’
‘You are seeing someone,’ her mother said.
‘I don’t know. It will be a first date, if it actually happens.’ She muttered the last under her breath.
‘I could do tomorrow, but that’s it,’ her mother offered begrudgingly.
Oh, well, that was that, Daisy assumed. He’d hardly likely to call before then, and even if he did the odds of him being free at the same time were slim. Resigned to never seeing Dr Hartley again (what was his first name anyway?) Daisy kissed Freddie on the cheek, promised to keep in touch, and headed off to resume her caring duties.