Page 25 of The Only Way Is Up

I used to be married. The end was incredibly hard and I can’t really talk about it. That’s what Tom had said on Monday. No wonder he’d lost his mind at the sight of Daisy in Shipton Combe; it must have brought back the worst time of his life in vivid technicolour.

Daisy thought about the press rumours about Christian and Tom this morning, and what would happen if that story blew up. It would only take a little digging by a curious journalist to discover how much Tessa had looked like Daisy, which would be too good a detail to resist. Christian’s suburban sexploits would elevate the story from gossip newsletter speculation to the front pages of the tabloids, no doubt implying that Tom was somehow a third party in this whole sordid business. He was too handsome and his backstory was pure tabloid fodder. Daisy picked up her phone and called Katie straight back.

‘I need your help,’ said Daisy. ‘We need to protect Christian.’

‘Okaaay,’ said Katie. ‘NOT what I expected you to say. Why?’

‘Because right now it’s a small story,’ replied Daisy, ‘but if Christian’s cheating gets out it will be huge. And if it gets huge, the life of a really nice man is going to be turned upside down for the second time.’

The only reason Daisy had agreed to have a regular lunch with her mother in Willow Cottage was to manage the time they spent together, thus avoiding Stella rocking up at the house whenever she liked. Right now most of her mother’s free time seemed to be spent on the allotment with Justin, or planning a village fete with the vicar that seemed to get more ambitious by the day. Both were fine by Daisy – if Stella was busy, she wasn’t causing trouble.

‘I saw the news story about you and the headmaster,’ said Stella, spooning carrot and coriander soup into her mouth. ‘What’s the situation with you and Christian?’ Her purple cardigan smelled of a Floris perfume that took Daisy back to being a teenager, being ferried from audition to audition, Stella never far away.

‘Just ask away, Mum,’ said Daisy snarkily. ‘Don’t hold back.’

Stella raised her eyebrows and smiled sweetly. ‘I’m your mother, I’m not obliged to beat around the bush.’

Daisy sighed and put down her spoon. ‘We’re going through a sticky patch.’ Daisy’s mood darkened, thinking about the number of sticky patches Christian had probably slept in recently. ‘I really don’t want to talk about it.’

‘So, nothing in the rumours about you and Tom Clark, then?’

‘No.’ Daisy gritted her teeth, but once her mother was on to something she was like a dog with a bone. ‘We’ve chatted two or three times, both times to talk about the recipe book.’ Daisy cast around wildly for a reason she might have done that, before having a moment of divine inspiration. ‘I’d like to test the recipes out on some of his students.’ This had been the first thing that came to mind, but now she’d said it out loud it actually sounded like a really good idea.

‘Oh,’ said Stella, sounding impressed but also disappointed. ‘Well, I’m sure that would be very useful.’

Daisy made a mental note to tell Katie her latest plan and talk to Tom about it, ideally before Stella did. She had a tennis lesson with Marcus now, but she’d swing by the school and see him on her way back.

As Daisy finished her lesson and said goodbye to Marcus, who had once again spent an hour trying to charm his way up her tennis skirt, to no avail, she was surprised to see Gerald and Melanie heading across the village hall car park towards the court. Gerald was wearing a waxed jacket and corduroy trousers in a putrid shade of salmon, while Melanie was wearing something vaguely resembling sportswear big enough for a pantomime horse. She was also clutching a tennis racquet. Daisy gave her a warm smile as they approached.

‘I didn’t know you played.’

‘Oh,’ said Melanie, blushing furiously. ‘Well, I—’

‘It’s a fortieth birthday gift from Will and myself,’ announced Gerald, like he’d just gifted her a super yacht. ‘Melanie used to be a keen player, so we’ve booked her a course of six lessons. A new racquet, too.’

Daisy raised her eyebrows at Melanie, who smiled in return. ‘It’s a lovely present,’ the woman said quietly. ‘I’m very rusty, though. I hope that’s OK, Marcus.’

‘Rusty is fine. We’ll ease you in gently.’

‘Enjoy your lesson, I’ll see you later.’ Gerald gave his wife a half-hearted kiss on the cheek before turning to Daisy. ‘Shall I walk you back?’

Daisy couldn’t come up with a convenient excuse, so she allowed Gerald to fall into step beside her as they walked back up the road. His pungent aftershave made her eyes water, and it occurred to her that maybe the timing of Melanie’s tennis lesson wasn’t a coincidence. Surely Gerald hadn’t offloaded his wife for an hour in order to spend time alone with Daisy? She was so paranoid these days. She must be over-thinking it.

‘And how are you settling into Shipton Combe?’ asked Gerald, with the kind of pompous tone a waiter might use to ask if the lobster thermidor was to her liking.

‘Fine, thank you,’ said Daisy. ‘I’m keeping busy.’

‘I’m sorry we haven’t had time to catch up properly,’ continued Gerald. ‘It seems we both have many demands on our time.’

‘Well, I’ll be here for at least a couple more weeks.’

‘Is that so?’ exclaimed Gerald. ‘How lovely. Why don’t I walk you back to your lovely cottage, and you can tell me all about your plans?’

Daisy shuddered, now certain that this whole situation had been engineered as part of Gerald’s master seduction plan. Grim.

‘I’m afraid I have another meeting.’ Daisy quickly glanced at her watch. ‘And I’m actually a little late. I’ll have to run. But thank you for the offer – perhaps you and Melanie could come over for a drink another time?’ She gave him the briefest of smiles, then jogged across the road to the gate that led to the school grounds.

Daisy hurried through the woods, periodically checking behind her to ensure he wasn’t following and making a mental note never to be alone in a room with Gerald Forbes-Glover. She’d definitely invite Melanie over for a drink, but if Gerald insisted on coming, she’d have to get Justin round to act as a human shield.