It took Daisy all the way back to come to terms with Hazel’s verbal onslaught. It was the charge that she always chose to do what she perceived as the right thing rather than what she really wanted to do that hit home hardest. By the time she reached the house, she had admitted to herself that this was true and made a vow to change. The tremor of anticipatory excitement at the prospect of seeing James again gave her cause to believe she was succeeding.
‘I suppose you think I am mean, narrow-minded and domineering.’ Violet astonished Daisy by breaking what had been a rather long silence as they sat together over the evening meal.
‘No, no, why on earth should I?’ Daisy tried to sound convincing. When Violet remained silent, she realized she had to say more. ‘I do think that you are sometimes a bit … well, repressive, with Maureen.’
‘Not wanting her to go on this trip, not wanting her to get a flat. Is that what you mean?’
‘Yes, and—’ She was about to mention Tim but thought she had already said enough. She changed to: ‘No doubt you consider me weak and overindulgent.’
‘Well …’ Violet murmured. ‘By the way, what was in your letter? Not bad news, I hope?’
‘Not really. Susan is expecting a baby.’
‘So, you will be a grandmother. Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?’ She looked at Daisy’s face. ‘Why don’t you look ecstatic? Was there something else?’
‘Giles has broken his ankle, Susan has dreadful morning sickness and her parents are off on some luxury holiday somewhere so she can’t call on her mother to help.’
‘So they called on you instead. Knowing you, I suppose that means that you are heading back to England to play the saint instead of to New Zealand where you might just enjoy yourself. Am I right?’
Daisy shook her head. ‘Not this time. I have had such a dressing down from Hazel that I have no alternative but to go to New Zealand – as planned.’
Violet stared at her then, surprisingly, laughed. ‘Thank goodness for that. I wouldn’t like to think of those girls without you to keep an eye on them. That’s if you have one to spare – an eye, I mean. From what I gather, you might be the one in need of a chaperone.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘I took a phone call while you were out. This “James” person you tried to pass off as some sort of relative; he was checking the flight time and wanted to reassure you that he would be there at the airport to meet you. We had quite a chat. I thought he sounded … well, very nice indeed.’ Violet’s voice took on quite an arch tone and Daisy felt the warm colour rising up her throat and neck. ‘Go for it, Daisy – and good luck!’
By the time they boarded the plane, Daisy was asking herself if she had made the right decision. Had she gone home, she knew that Giles and Susan would have been pleased to see her, if only for selfish reasons, but she was not at all sure about James, even less about her own feelings which ricocheted from longing to see him again to a bleak conviction that the whole thing would turn out to be a total disaster. She huddled into her seat and into her thoughts, leaving the young people to their excited chatter. She was very aware that she was of a different generation from them.
If Daisy could have turned back on to the plane when they landed, she would have done so. She moved through the landing formalities like a zombie, then they were through and facing the friends and relatives waiting to meet the passengers. Hazel, of course, was the first to spot him.
‘There he is!’ Her arm shot up in greeting. ‘Uncle James! Here!’ she yelled. Slowly her arm came down and she turned to her mother. ‘Who is that with him?’
Her voice was low and to Daisy sounded strangely awestruck, but she couldn’t think about that now; her heart was thumping, there was a singing in her ears and she knew her lips had stretched into an absurdly wide smile as she and James drew closer through the crowd. It seemed entirely natural to drop her cases and let his arms enfold her.
‘Daisy, you’ve come. Welcome!’ His lips moved against her hair and she sighed.
‘It was a long journey,’ she told him, and both of them knew they weren’t talking about the flight she had just taken.
They drew apart reluctantly, aware that there were introductions to be made.
‘This is my niece Maureen and – and this is Tim Sanders.’ This was not the moment to go into complicated relationships. ‘Dr James Crutchley. And this, of course, James, is little Nutmeg.’ She expected a repudiation of the childish nickname from Hazel, but Hazel was gazing at the young man standing by James. To be accurate, they were gazing at each other, both looking quite bemused.
‘My stepson, Christopher,’ James began, adding, ‘This is Daisy’s daughter, Hazel.’
‘I know,’ Christopher said, his eyes still on Hazel. ‘She is the little Nutmeg you told me about, but you didn’t say she had grown up so beautifully.’
James was about to say he hadn’t known that when Tim waved vigorously and shouted to a woman hurrying towards them through the thinning crowd. They fell into each other’s arms then Tim disengaged himself and introduced her as his mother. He then took Maureen’s hand and pulled her forward. ‘This, Mum, is Maureen,’ he told her, his face shining with such obvious pride that Daisy wondered how she could ever have imagined there was anything between him and Hazel. It was only when they went off together that Daisy realized Maureen was going to stay with Tim’s family. Well, so much for her chaperoning.
James smiled at her. ‘Journeys end in lovers’ meetings,’ he said softly. She nodded in agreement as she and James turned to follow Christopher and Hazel who seemed to know where they were going.