That night Daisy couldn’t sleep. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Taran and Luca, her mother and father, and in those dark and silent hours she felt helpless, as if she were drowning. Had she destroyed her relationship with Taran simply because Luca had marched back into her life and offered to give her everything she wanted? How easy it would be to slip back into the past. To continue on from where she had left off. But was that what she really wanted? It was familiar and comfortable, but was it enough? She remembered Toronto and there was something wonderfully vivid and alive about those memories. They were shiny and new and full of possibility. There was something tarnished about her memories of Luca. They lacked brilliance. Perhaps they had been tainted by the arguments and disagreements they’d had in the last months of their relationship. Or perhaps Suze was right, that she had left Luca because she had wanted to. Maybe their story had reached its end and the fact that they wanted different things had just given her an excuse to leave. Perhaps it had run its course.
By morning she knew whom she wanted to be with, simply because Taran was the only man occupying her mind and her heart, along with a burning sense of regret. She picked up her phone and called Luca. ‘Ciao, Margherita!’ His voice was up, as if he was expecting good news.
‘I don’t know how to say this, Luca—’ she began.
‘You’re going to break my heart all over again,’ he interrupted in a dull voice.
She sighed and put a hand on her chest. She hadn’t expected this to hurt so much. ‘I don’t want to break your heart, Luca. But I’m calling to tell you that it’s over. It’s over, now, for good.’
‘Then we have nothing more to say to each other. Six years have all gone in a puff of smoke.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Me too. I hope you don’t live to regret your decision. Unfortunately, I will regret it for the rest of my life.’
Daisy did not know how to respond to that.
‘Addio, beautiful Margherita.’
‘Addio, Luca.’
When she came down to breakfast she found her father and Nan at the kitchen table, discussing the party. Marigold wasn’t down yet. She took longer getting up these days.
‘You did well last night,’ said Nan over the rim of her teacup. ‘You all did. I’m proud of you.’ Daisy waited for her to add a typically caustic remark, but she didn’t.
‘Marigold had a lovely time,’ said Dennis, reaching up to stroke Mac, who was settled on his shoulder and purring into his ear.
Daisy made herself a cup of coffee, then went to join them at the table.
‘You look like you’ve wrestled with an entire army,’ said Nan, noticing the purple shadows beneath Daisy’s eyes. ‘What’s going on, Daisy?’
Daisy cupped her mug and looked at her father with apprehension. ‘Dad, can I ask you something?’
Her father frowned, taking in his daughter’s distraught face with confusion. ‘Of course you can, love. What is it?’
Daisy took a deep breath. ‘Taran asked me to move to Toronto. I told him I need to be here, with you and Mum. That I can’t leave you to look after Mum on your own. That you need my support. But . . .’ Her voice trailed off. Saying those words out loud gave her pain. She put her hands in her lap and stared into her coffee cup. She couldn’t look at her father in case she saw hurt in his eyes. That would be too much to bear. She didn’t want him to think she was deserting him during his hour of need. ‘I want to be here to help you look after Mum, but I love Taran . . .’
Nan clicked her tongue and looked at Daisy sharply. ‘And you’d be a fool to let him go,’ she said.
‘I know, only . . . ’ Daisy wished her father would say something.
‘No only,’ Nan snapped. ‘You’re not getting any younger and I’d say Taran is the Last Chance Saloon. We’ll cope without you.’ She chuckled and glanced at Dennis. ‘We have the entire village helping out now, so really, one more would be a nuisance.’
Dennis put his hand on Daisy’s. It was big and warm and achingly tender. ‘Daisy, love. You’ve been a good daughter. You are a good daughter,’ he said. ‘But it’s time you gave Suze a chance to shine.’
‘If you do everything for people, they never learn to do anything for themselves,’ Nan said, and Daisy noticed that she, too, had got good at making her own breakfast these days.
‘I’m not sure he wants me now. You see, Luca—’
‘Yes, we know Luca proposed,’ Nan interrupted. ‘I don’t think there’s anyone in the village who doesn’t know that. But if you wanted to marry him, you’d have said yes straight away. When there’s hesitation, there’s doubt, that’s what your grandfather used to say.’
Daisy smiled through her tears. ‘What else did Grandad say?’
Nan returned her smile and it was gentle and affectionate. ‘Your grandad would have said everything happens for a reason. That there’s no such thing as coincidence. The people who come into your life, however briefly or permanently, do so for a reason. He believed we are all here to learn and grow in love. That this is the Big School of Life. I imagine he would tell you that you learned some very important lessons during those years with Luca, but now it’s time to close that chapter and start the next. You and Taran have a lot to learn from each other, that’s why you’ve met. It’s karma. It’s you attracting things into your life that are important for your spiritual growth and development. You see, I might have pretended not to listen, but I remember everything he said.’ She pulled a face. ‘Your grandfather loved talking about those deep and meaningful things. But do you want to know what I think?’
Daisy nodded.
‘I never liked Luca. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. Taran’s got substance, and . . .’ She grinned. ‘I like his mother, and an apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree, does it? He’s a good sort. Take it from me. I’ve known a few sorts in my time to be a good judge of them.’
‘Taran’s furious with me for not telling him about Luca coming over.’ Daisy sighed and put a hand on her chest. ‘I don’t know what to do now. I’ve said I’m sorry.’
‘That’s all you can do, love,’ said Dennis.
‘No, it isn’t,’ said Nan. ‘If you want him you have to fight for him. You’re not a damsel in distress waiting for your knight in shining armour to rescue you. Dear God, women have come a long way in my lifetime and thank goodness for that. I wouldn’t leave it a moment longer. Go up there and tell him how you feel. And a few tears will make all the difference, believe me.’
Daisy laughed. ‘Nan, you’ve just undermined your argument.’
‘It’s a wily woman who knows how to use her powers. It’s not an even playing field and never will be. Men may be stronger, but women will always be more cunning. It’s just the way it is.’
‘So, if I went and lived in Toronto, you’d be okay without me,’ said Daisy, pushing out her chair and standing up.
‘Good God, Daisy, it’s the twenty-first century. Toronto is a hop across the Atlantic,’ said Nan. ‘Not a three-week voyage in a ship!’
‘Nan survived the Titanic, you know,’ joked Dennis.
‘I’m not that old,’ Nan protested. Then she looked at Daisy, who was hovering by the door, ready to leave. ‘You do make heavy weather of everything, Daisy,’ she said. ‘Take a deep breath now and go!’
Daisy put on her coat and hat and hurried out into the wintry morning. Frost lay thick upon the ground, melting slowly in the places where the sun shone, revealing patches of green. She trudged up the path that cut across the farmland, as she had done pretty much every morning for almost a year. The sky was a weak blue, the clouds that gently floated across it fine and feathery. Every day was beautiful, she thought to herself as she ran her eyes over the brown fields and distant woods. She soaked in the splendour of nature and, as her heart expanded, she began to feel more positive. She was filled with a buoyance and a brightness and quickened her pace. She’d tell Taran how she felt, she resolved, because she was sure now of how she felt. Surer than she had ever been.
As she walked along the side of the wood, she saw someone sitting on the bench up ahead. At first, she thought it might be David Pullman, the farm manager, but as she got closer she realized it was Taran. He too was wearing a big coat, hat and scarf and sat with his elbows on his knees, staring out over the hills.
He sensed her presence and turned away from the view.
He didn’t get up but leaned back against the bench, his expression impassive. It was impossible for Daisy to read him.
She stopped, uncertain suddenly of how to begin.
‘You haven’t been here all night, have you?’ she asked with a smile, hovering in front of him, trying not to be deterred by the invisible wall that had suddenly grown up between them.
But Taran didn’t smile back. ‘If I had, I’d be a block of ice by now,’ he replied solemnly. How formidable he is, she thought, suddenly wondering whether it had been wise of her to take Nan’s advice and come. There was no give on his part, just a hard, unfriendly expression that sapped her resolve.
She could hear Nan telling her that now would be a good time to release a few tears.
She lifted her chin and went to sit beside him. She felt more comfortable there, facing the immense view that stretched all the way to the farthest horizon. Roused by the magnificence of it, she felt her confidence return.
She looked at him and sensed, behind the hard, unfriendly expression, suffering. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you,’ she said quietly. ‘I panicked. And I only thought of myself. There’s no excuse. I should have called you and trusted you to understand.’
Taran leaned his elbows on his knees again and knitted his fingers. Their gazes met on that distant horizon. ‘I’m sorry too,’ he said wearily. ‘I overreacted. I was jealous.’
‘You have no reason to be jealous. I don’t want to lose you, Taran. I don’t want to be with Luca, either in Milan or here. I want to be with you, wherever you are.’
He sat back and looked at her intensely. ‘Why the sudden change of heart?’
‘I talked to Dad, just like you told me to. You were right. He’s not going to make me feel I’m letting him down by going to live abroad again. Or that I’m letting Mum down. I think I’m probably letting myself down by not following my heart. Nan said I make very heavy weather of everything. I think she’s right.’
His face softened and the tenderness returned to his eyes. ‘That’s only because you care,’ he said.
The change in his expression brought real tears to her eyes, not the ones Nan was talking about. ‘I do care,’ she emphasized, relieved that he was perhaps giving her a reprieve. ‘I carry the weight of my family’s struggle on my shoulders, because I care. But I have to learn that I don’t have to care alone. There’s Suze and Nan, who, as it turns out, can look after herself after all.’ She gave a small, hesitant smile. ‘And Toronto is only a hop across the ocean.’
He smiled back, a smile that broke the stranger and brought the friend back to her, with all his warmth and wit and love. ‘So you’ll come?’ he asked, reaching out and touching her cheek with the back of his hand.
‘I’ll come,’ she replied.
He pulled her into his arms and pressed his face into her neck. ‘You frightened me, Daisy.’ He squeezed her tightly. ‘Please don’t frighten me like that again.’
Daisy hurried home, anxious to share her news. She needed to tell her mother first. It was important not to overwhelm her and to break it to her gently that she was going to live abroad again. She didn’t look forward to telling her that bit.
Dennis and Nan were still at the kitchen table. Marigold was yet to join them.
‘Someone’s happy!’ commented Nan when she saw Daisy’s flushed face. ‘Was it the crocodile tears that did it?’
Dennis raised his eyebrows. ‘All’s well, I see,’ he said.
‘I’m going to live with Taran in Toronto!’ she exclaimed.
Nan looked surprised. ‘In my day people got married before they moved in together.’
‘This isn’t your day,’ said Dennis, getting up to embrace his daughter. ‘This is your day, love,’ he said to Daisy, and planted a kiss on her forehead. ‘It’s wonderful news.’
Nan shook her head at the disappointing lowering of standards these days, but put out her hand to beckon Daisy to her. ‘I’m happy for you both,’ she said, shrugging off her disapproval and cheering up at the thought of the possibility of Lady Sherwood eventually joining her family. A Sherwood tying the knot with a Fane, she mused with something close to excitement. That wouldn’t have happened in her day. ‘When you finally do get married, you’ll do it in white, won’t you, pet? I’m sure Taran is a young man who likes to do things correctly. He’ll come and ask for your hand, won’t he, in a suit and tie?’
‘I’m moving in with him, Nan. One step at a time,’ said Daisy, but she couldn’t see Taran in a suit and tie.
When Marigold came downstairs at last, Dennis got up to make her a cup of tea. He kissed her cheek. ‘Morning, Goldie,’ he said. ‘Daisy’s got some good news.’
Marigold looked at Daisy and smiled. She wondered whether Luca had asked her to marry him at last.
‘I’m moving in with Taran,’ said Daisy. She braced herself for her mother’s response.
There was a long pause while Marigold tried to remember who Taran was. She was certain he was called Luca. ‘How lovely, dear,’ she said and went to sit down.
‘They’re going to live in Toronto,’ said Nan.
‘But we’re going to come and go,’ added Daisy quickly, desperate to avoid upsetting her mother, who was looking puzzled. ‘It’s only an eight-hour flight so we’ll come back every few months at least. Taran will want to see his mother too.’
Marigold’s smile did not falter, although she was sure Daisy’s boyfriend lived in Italy. ‘Toronto is a lovely city,’ she said evenly, taking the chair at the head of the table, next to Nan.
‘And he told me he’ll move back here one day, so it’s not for ever,’ Daisy reassured her.
‘Toronto’s a dreadful city!’ Nan exclaimed. ‘Noisy, dirty, too many people and the buildings are too high.’
Daisy frowned. ‘Have you ever been to Toronto, Nan?’
‘I don’t need to go to Toronto to know what a dreadful city it is.’
Daisy gazed at her mother searchingly. She wasn’t sure Marigold had understood what she’d said. ‘You see, Mum, Taran works in Toronto. He’s an architect. A good architect. He has his own business and designs the most beautiful buildings. When I went out there, I realized that he couldn’t leave his business to come and live here. At least not yet.’
‘You don’t have to explain, Daisy,’ said Dennis gently, putting Marigold’s cup of tea in front of her. ‘You’ll have fun in Toronto. You’re young. It’ll be good for you to have fun in an exciting city like Toronto.’ He sat down on Marigold’s right.
Marigold understood that Daisy would be leaving her, but she focused on the part where she said she’d be coming back. As long as she came back, Marigold didn’t mind her going.
‘Maybe Suze will step into the breach,’ said Dennis hopefully. ‘She’s grown up a lot in the last year and she’s a respectable married woman now.’
‘It’ll be nice to see more of her,’ said Nan. ‘Suze is the sort of girl who’ll jump only as high as she has to. Let’s raise the bar and see what happens.’
Marigold sipped her tea, settling into the familiar routine with the relish of a nesting hen. ‘Dad says that our children are not our children, they’re sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself,’ she said.
Nan noticed Marigold’s use of the present tense and bit her tongue. She knew now not to correct her these days, even though the urge to do so was almost irresistible. ‘Your father said many wise things,’ she said instead.
‘That’s Khalil Gibran,’ said Dennis. ‘How clever of you to remember, Goldie.’
‘They come through us but are not from us, and although they are with us, they don’t belong to us,’ Marigold continued, soaking up Dennis’s praise. ‘Dad has always encouraged me to take my own path, whatever that may be.’
Dennis smiled broadly. ‘He’s right, of course. And I have always encouraged our girls to do the same. You go to Toronto, Daisy, without any regret. You’ll make a home of it with Taran.’
Marigold was confused. She was certain Daisy’s boyfriend was called Luca.
‘Dreadful city,’ repeated Nan.
‘Yes, I’ll make a home of it with Taran,’ Daisy said, her anxiety lifting at the sight of her mother’s gentle smile.
‘Home is where love is, dear,’ said Marigold. Then she turned and looked at Dennis.
Taran liked to leave the city on weekends and head to Muskoka, a large region of lakes, islands and mountains north of Toronto. He enjoyed hiking and canoeing, hanging out on the dock in the summer and snowshoeing and cross-country skiing in winter. He’d rented a small cottage from a client who owned a large estate in the hills and it was there that he took Daisy. Thirsty for the serenity of nature she drank in the big blue skies, the crystal water, the forests of ever-changing colour and the wild flowers that grew among the long grasses. She didn’t hanker for her English home because she’d made a home there with Taran and was perfectly content.
One weekend at the beginning of March Taran declared that he wanted to show her something special. He drove further into the hills, up a long dirt track, to a secluded place among the trees where a barn stood derelict and forlorn, staring out over the uninterrupted view of a lake. He took Daisy’s hand. ‘Do you think this would be a good place to build a house?’ he asked.
‘I think it would be amazing. Is it for a client?’
‘No.’ He turned to her and smiled. ‘It’s for you.’
Daisy was so taken aback that she laughed. ‘Ha ha, funny joke.’
‘I’m not joking. I want to build a house here with you. A house for us.’
Daisy stopped laughing. ‘You’re really not joking, are you?’
Without letting go of her hand he went down on one knee. Daisy felt a surge of emotion and pressed her palm to her chest to steady the sudden rush of fitful beating. He looked up at her, his eyes shiny and his cheeks suddenly flushed in the amber glow of sunset. ‘Daisy Fane, love of my life, will you marry me?’
Daisy knelt and took his face in her hands. She blinked away tears. ‘I would love to, Taran Sherwood, love of my life.’ She rested her forehead against his, then gently kissed his lips.
He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. ‘I bought this land a long time ago. I was just waiting for the right girl to share it with,’ he said. ‘Now I’ve found her.’
Daisy closed her eyes and allowed him to envelop her. Mum was right, she thought, cherishing the familiar feel of him. Here was where she belonged. Here with Taran.
Home is where love is.
Daisy and Taran were married in the village church in June. Lady Sherwood helped Daisy with the arrangements. She couldn’t help but draw parallels between their marriage and her own. While she had left Toronto and moved to England to marry Owen, Daisy was leaving England to move to Toronto to be with Taran. She’d secretly hoped that Daisy would entice her son back, but she understood that his business was there, as were so many of his childhood memories. But Taran had assured her that they’d move back eventually and she believed him.
Suze and Batty decorated the tent which had been put up in her garden for the reception and dinner dance. Nan was very impressed. It was much more glamorous than Suze’s reception had been. Taran’s friends and cousins flew in from Toronto and Patrick and Lucille came all the way from Sydney. There were two hundred and fifty guests, all seated at elegant round tables, beneath a ceiling studded with little lights, like stars. Dennis had to hire a morning coat especially. Suze and Daisy took Nan and Marigold into town to buy new dresses and hats. Suze made sure that Marigold didn’t miss any of Daisy’s fittings. Nan insisted on coming too and had nothing sour to say about the dress, which was white, but she did tell Daisy to eat more. ‘No man wants to lie with a bony woman,’ she said with a sniff. ‘I’ll bet Taran’s a man who likes something to hold on to.’
Marigold watched Dennis take Daisy down the aisle with tears in her eyes. She hoped she’d remember this moment for ever, but she had already forgotten Suze’s wedding. She would inevitably forget Daisy’s. However, she was learning to live in the moment. To savour the present. Not to regret what was lost or anticipate what would vanish. Her father told her to enjoy the simple things which can only be found in the Now. ‘The Now is the only thing that is real, anyway,’ he told her during one of their chats in the garden. ‘Dementia throws you into the Now, Goldie. Enjoy the birdsong, the breeze, the changing seasons. Enjoy it all in the Now. It is only by being alert to the present moment that you can connect with the real you, which is eternal.’
‘The me who is driving the car,’ she said proudly, pleased that she remembered.
‘The you who is driving the car,’ her father repeated. ‘Your eternal soul.’
‘I’m going to be okay, aren’t I, Dad?’
‘Yes, you are, Goldie.’ He smiled so that the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes deepened. He took her hand. ‘You’re going to be okay, because you’re loved. That’s all anybody needs.’
In the months that followed, the fog in Marigold’s mind closed in. Little by little, inch by inch, her world shrank. Daisy FaceTimed regularly, telling her mother about her new life in Toronto, that she was becoming quite a successful artist, even though she realized that her mother found it hard to follow what she was saying. Suze stepped into the breach and jumped way beyond the bar that had been raised for her, surprising even Nan with her dedication and attentiveness to her mother. Without Daisy there to do everything for her, Suze relished the sense of responsibility that looking after Marigold gave her. She felt needed and full of purpose, and the admiration she received from her grandmother and father, and from Batty too, made her feel good about herself in a way she hadn’t before. It felt good to shine.
And she started to write. After she wrote the first line the words became a torrent and she could barely type fast enough to keep up with it. That was inspiration, creativity flowing through her from a higher place. She realized then that she had never been inspired before.
In early summer Suze and Batty’s first child was born. Suze came over often so that Marigold could enjoy being with her granddaughter. While Marigold gazed tenderly into the baby’s face and held her tiny hand, Suze made her cups of tea and helped with the household chores, until Dennis realized that it was too much for Suze and paid Sylvia’s eager young niece Karen to do the cleaning and laundry instead. Nan enjoyed talking to Karen. It was a little dull in the house now that Marigold’s health had declined and the girls had moved out, and Karen was full of gossip like her aunt. Marigold spent a lot of time in the garden watching the birds, or in the sitting room doing her new puzzle. Even though it was becoming too great a challenge for her she enjoyed looking at the pictures and reading the explanations on the back. They made her feel warm inside.
In November it snowed again. Nan complained, as she always did. Marigold gazed onto the white garden with wonder and Dennis commented cheerfully that it looked like Narnia. Yet, this year Marigold forgot to feed the birds. Nan reminded her. ‘If you don’t feed them, Marigold, they won’t make it to spring.’ She handed her her coat. ‘You don’t want to catch a chill,’ she said, helping her into it. Mother and daughter went out together to fill the feeder and talk to the robin who waited for them on the roof of Dennis’s shed.
Determined to do his best for Marigold, Dennis devised systems so that she could look after herself. He knew her independence was important to her. In the bathroom he put a basket of her toiletries and medicine by the sink to help her remember what she had done, to avoid doing things twice. After brushing her teeth, she put the brush and paste to one side. After washing her face, she added the soap to the brush and paste. After moisturizing, she added the cream, and so on until the basket was empty. That way she knew everything had been done as it should. She then put all the items back in the basket for next time. He refashioned the kitchen cabinets, giving them glass doors so Marigold could see what was in them. He labelled the bathroom door and the drawers and cupboards in the kitchen and sitting room. He added more lights, so Marigold could see more clearly, and made sure the floors were smooth so she wouldn’t trip over. He kept the house clutter-free so as not to confuse her, and ensured that important things like keys and her mobile telephone were always put in the same place. Most crucially he agreed with her, all the time. However crazy she sounded, and she did sometimes sound a little crazy, he simply smiled at her with encouragement and understanding. He hoped she would never know how far her brain had deteriorated.
It never occurred to Dennis that the day would come when he would be incapable of looking after her anymore. He had made his vows in church before God, to look after her in sickness and in health, and he wasn’t about to break them. He didn’t think her condition would deteriorate to such an extent that he could no longer care for her himself. Yet, it did.
As the books on the metaphorical bookshelf in Marigold’s brain began to show empty top shelves, Marigold began to exist on the bottom shelves – in the memories that were still there, from long ago. She tried to run away various times, claiming that she wanted to go home. ‘But home is here,’ Dennis explained patiently when he found her in the lane in her nightdress and bare feet, shivering with cold.
‘No,’ she replied, shaking her head in panic. ‘I want to go home to Mum and Dad and Patrick. They’re missing me, you see. They’re worried. I need to go home so they don’t worry.’
Dennis struggled against the fear that threatened to overwhelm him and tearfully gathered her into his arms and carried her home. How could he be a good husband to her if she no longer recognized their house as home?
Then one night, she refused to get into bed because she didn’t recognize Dennis.
‘I’m your husband,’ he said in desperation. ‘You’re married to me. We’ve been married for over forty years, Goldie.’ But she remained pinned to the wall in her dressing gown, trembling with fright, until Dennis was forced to ask Nan to come in and talk to her.
Nan found the whole situation unbearable. She couldn’t understand how Marigold could forget Dennis. Dennis, the light of her life. How could she? ‘He is your husband, Marigold,’ she said, lips white and quivering. ‘You love him.’ And there was something about the word ‘love’ that brought him back to her. But if it happened again, would love be enough?
After that, Nan knew that Dennis wouldn’t be able to cope for much longer. Dennis knew too, deep down, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to face up to it. He couldn’t bear the thought of being without Marigold. He’d do everything possible to avoid that happening. And besides, where would she go? Into a hospital? He shuddered. He’d heard terrible things about dementia patients being neglected in hospitals. But he couldn’t afford a nursing home. There was only one thing to do. With a heavy heart he wound down his work and declined new commissions. The miniature village he was making remained abandoned in his shed, gathering dust. He helped Marigold bathe and dress. He made her meals. He brewed her tea. He dedicated every moment of his life to her with patience and compassion, and for a while he felt he was swimming with his head above the water. Yet as Christmas came and went again, he felt the force of the undercurrent gradually pulling him down until he could barely breathe. Marigold was getting worse and the devices he’d created to help her were now defeating her. Worst of all, she was defeating him.
Dennis wasn’t a man who cried easily, but the moment he realized he had failed her he cried like a boy. A helpless boy. A boy who could see no way out.
Nan telephoned Patrick. She rarely telephoned him because it was very expensive calling the other side of the world and Patrick was very busy. But she needed him. She needed his advice. In the old days she would have asked her husband, he would have known exactly what to do. But since he was no longer here, she had no choice but to call her son. ‘Is everyone all right?’ he asked when he heard his mother’s voice.
‘No, it’s Marigold,’ she replied and she was much too aware of the cost to embark on a lengthy story.
‘Has she got worse?’ he asked.
‘Much worse, Patrick.’
‘I thought as much,’ he replied, then sighed heavily because there was very little he could do to help from where he was.
‘Dennis is trying to look after her himself, but she’s breaking him. I’ve never seen him so strained. I need to know whether Marigold should go into a nursing home, Patrick. I know Dennis won’t hear of it. But I think we have no choice. What do you think we should do?’ Patrick thought about it a moment. Nan’s mouth twitched with impatience. ‘I’m not sure I can take much more of this,’ she added with a sigh. ‘She’s going to break me too.’
‘Then you have to do what’s best for all of you, including Marigold, and you mustn’t feel bad,’ said Patrick. ‘You, Daisy and Suze need to persuade Dennis that it’s not only for your good, but for Marigold’s too. Professional carers know how to look after people like her. She’ll be safe. Of course Dennis can’t look after her on his own.’ He chuckled. ‘I commend him for doing it, but I can tell you, I’d last five minutes before I cried out for help.’ Nan hoped Lucille never needed him to.
Nan telephoned Daisy and asked her to fly back. Suze left her baby at home with Batty and drove over. The three of them confronted Dennis together around the kitchen table, while Marigold was sleeping upstairs.
Daisy was shocked to see her father looking so tired and grey. He had aged a great deal since she had last seen him at Christmas. If she had had reservations about putting her mother into a nursing home, Dennis’s decline convinced her that it was the right thing to do, for both of them.
Dennis hugged his mug of tea and gazed forlornly at his daughters and mother-in-law with glassy eyes. ‘I know what you’re all here for,’ he told them sadly.
‘We’re not going to sit back and let you deteriorate too,’ said Nan, and she smiled and added with typically dry humour, ‘I have to live with you and it’s not fair on me.’
Dennis managed a wan smile in return, but the truth was made no easier to bear cushioned with jest.
‘It’s not fair on you,’ said Daisy kindly, looking at her father with tenderness. ‘You need to live your life, Dad.’
He stared at her in bewilderment. ‘But Marigold is my life, Daisy.’
‘I know, Dad. But if you don’t get help, she’ll take you down with her and none of us will be able to bear that.’ Daisy’s eyes stung. She couldn’t imagine Dennis without Marigold. The two of them went together like a pot and its lid. Like bread and butter. Like laughter and love.
‘We don’t want Mum to leave home any more than you do,’ said Suze. ‘But, she wouldn’t want you to suffer, would she?’
Dennis remembered the conversation they’d had in his shed, when Marigold had told him that she would understand if he put her into a nursing home. He had been appalled. The idea had seemed inconceivable then. Now it was just unbearable.
‘I can’t afford a nursing home,’ he admitted and the words cut him deeply, because when he had said his vows in church he had really meant them. In sickness and in health . . . till death us do part. Call him old-fashioned, but looking after Marigold was not only his desire but his duty. Now he was ashamed that he was failing in that duty. He lowered his eyes.
‘I still have the money I got from selling my house,’ said Nan. ‘I put it away for a rainy day. Well, I’d say it’s pretty much a downpour now, wouldn’t you?’
Dennis nodded. ‘A downpour is exactly what it is.’
Daisy cleared her throat. She didn’t want to undermine her grandmother’s generous offer, but she had done her research and knew how much a good nursing home would cost. Her grandmother’s money would soon run out. ‘Taran and I would like to pay,’ she said, glancing anxiously at Nan. ‘I mean, we’d like to share the cost with Nan.’
Nan smiled at Daisy and then put her hand on Dennis’s arm. ‘That’s what family is for,’ she said. ‘You can’t rely on the government. But you can rely on us.’
Dennis looked from Nan to Daisy and his eyes shone. He couldn’t find the words to express his gratitude. He couldn’t find any words at all.
‘I’ll contribute too,’ said Suze, not wanting to be left out, although she and Batty had little to give. ‘It won’t be much but it’ll help.’
‘It’s the thought that counts,’ said Nan. ‘The point is, it can be done and must be done. For you, Dennis, but also for Marigold. She needs professional care now.’
He took a sip of tea and sighed. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do without her,’ he muttered. His hollow eyes glistened. ‘She’s my Goldie, isn’t she? She’s always been my Goldie.’
‘You can visit her every day, if you like,’ said Daisy.
‘We’ll choose a place that’s close by,’ said Suze.
‘Beryl told me that she took her to visit Seaview House a few years ago,’ Nan told them. ‘It’s about a twenty-minute drive. On the coast, so she’d be able to see the sea. You know how much she loves the sea. I believe it’s a nice place.’
‘Will you look at it with us?’ Suze asked Dennis.
‘You don’t have to make any decisions now,’ said Daisy gently. ‘Just come and have a look around. If you don’t like it, we can find somewhere else.’
There was a long pause as Dennis considered their proposal. No one spoke. Daisy looked at Suze and frowned. Suze gave a little shrug. They drank their tea and waited. Finally, Dennis spoke. ‘I don’t know how Marigold will manage without me,’ he said quietly. ‘She’s always had me to lean on.’
‘She doesn’t recognize you half the time,’ said Nan. ‘It’s only going to get worse.’
‘I wish I could cope,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I’m letting her down.’
‘Oh Dad,’ Daisy cried. ‘You’re not letting her down. You’ve been her knight in shining armour.’
‘You couldn’t have done more,’ added Suze tearfully.
Nan nodded. ‘No, you couldn’t have done more. No one could have. You’re a good man, Dennis, like Arthur. Good men. Marigold and I have been very lucky. We both know that.’ She put out her hand and patted his across the table. ‘Marigold might be losing her mind but she’s still got a heart. She knows you love her and she’ll know that any decision you make will be done with love.’
‘And we know too,’ added Daisy.
‘All right,’ Dennis said, nodding his agreement. ‘Let’s go and take a look at this Seaview House. Let’s see if it’s good enough for our Goldie.’