Page 21 of The Only Way Is Up

‘I’m really sorry, Daisy.’

Daisy gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and took deep breaths. ‘Don’t ever apologise for my terrible taste in men, Katie. Just . . . thank you, and let me know how much I owe your friend.’

‘I will. And now I’ll ask you again – how are you?’

Daisy’s head was spinning. She needed to get off the phone so she could scream and kick herself for being such an idiot. ‘I’ll be OK, Katie, don’t worry about me.’

Katie was quiet for a moment. ‘Daisy, we’ve been friends for a long time – I always do.’

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Tom hovered outside Willow Cottage holding Henry’s lead in one hand and a box of freshly laid eggs in the other. Justin could have dropped them off, but after two weeks Tom was ready to give apologising to Daisy another go, so he’d pilfered them from the shed. He cuddled the eggs to his chest, ignoring the fact that his friend was watching him beadily from his window next door. He hesitated for a moment, then pushed aside any nagging doubts and knocked decisively on Daisy’s door.

After a few seconds it cracked open and a red and puffy face peeked out, barely recognisable as Daisy. She had clearly been crying, and seeing Tom set her off on another round of racking sobs. He instinctively stepped forward and gathered her into his arms, manoeuvring her back into the room as he kicked the door closed behind him.

‘Hey, it’s OK. It’s OK.’ She smelled of apple shampoo and flowery perfume, clutching at his jumper with her clenched fists like he was a lifeboat.

After a minute the tears subsided and Daisy pulled away, crossing the room to pull a tissue from a box. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, blowing her nose with a honking sound.

‘What’s happened? Are you OK?’

Daisy smiled weakly and hiccupped. ‘Nobody’s died, I promise. Just trouble in paradise.’

Tom sniffed, then looked towards the kitchen. Something was burning. ‘What’s that smell?’

‘Oh fuck, it’s my risotto!’ Daisy wailed.

‘Stay there,’ said Tom. ‘Sit down and pat Henry. I’ll be back.’

He headed into the kitchen and found smoke emanating from some kind of sticky, orange lava welded to a pan on the AGA. He opened the back door, then grabbed the pan with an oven glove and tossed the whole thing onto the lawn, hearing it hiss as it hit the wet grass. He left the door open to allow the smoke to clear and fished a bottle of white wine from the fridge and a couple of glasses from one of the cupboards.

By the time he returned to the lounge, Daisy had mostly stopped crying and was curled up on the sofa with Henry, gently stroking between his ears. Tom handed Daisy a glass of wine and sat on the other sofa, nursing his.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘What’s happened?’

Daisy swigged half the wine and looked at him, through swollen eyes, her hand clamped over her mouth. ‘Christian . . . he . . . I . . . oh fuck. It’s awful, but I really can’t talk about it. I’m sorry.’

Tom nodded, wondering if she couldn’t talk because it was too painful, or because she didn’t trust him not to blab her private business to the press. Probably the latter. ‘Is there anything at all I can do?’

Daisy shook her head, breaking into a new round of racking sobs. Tom scuttled across the rug on his knees and gathered her into his arms again. ‘Hey, it’s OK,’ he whispered, gently stroking her hair as she wailed like a wounded animal.

After a minute she pulled away, taking deep breaths. ‘Oh God. I’m so sorry.’

‘You don’t have to apologise.’ Daisy turned away to blow her nose again, and Tom took the opportunity to retreat back to the sofa.

They sat in silence for a moment. ‘Is there anything else you want to talk about? Can I get you anything? Call your mu—?’

‘God no,’ said Daisy quickly. ‘Stella and I are . . . well, let’s not talk about that either. I’ll be fine. It’s not an emergency, honestly. Just a bit of a shock. You caught me at a bad moment.’

Another short silence. ‘Would you like me to go?’

Daisy took a deep breath and nodded. ‘I think that would be best,’ she said. ‘I’m really sorry I cried all over you.’

Tom smiled and stood up. ‘I don’t mind. You know where I am,’ he said quietly.

Daisy smiled weakly. ‘I do. Thank you, Tom.’

Tom opened the door and half-jogged away from Willow Cottage, across the school grounds, his cheeks burning with humiliation and helplessness and a whole confusion of other emotions. He could still feel the warmth of Daisy’s body in his arms, and it occurred to him that it was the first time he’d held a woman in over three years. In the heat of the moment, it had felt like the most natural thing in the world. What did that say about him?