Page 26 of The Only Way Is Up

She hadn’t lied about having a meeting. Katie had been hugely enthusiastic about her recipe-testing idea as a means to explain her meetings with Tom, so she’d got his number from Marcus and messaged him to ask if she could pop over for a quick chat. He’d suggested his office, which seemed rather formal for a Saturday; perhaps after reading the press coverage he wanted to keep a desk between them.

Tom met Daisy by the main door to the school, wearing old jeans, lace-up leather boots and a cream cable-knit sweater that made him look like a sexy fisherman. His office was warm and cosy and joyfully chaotic, with a desk piled with papers, books and folders and empty coffee mugs. Henry huffed over to say hello, then returned to his favourite spot by the clanking radiator.

‘Have a seat,’ said Tom stiffly. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

Daisy laughed. ‘I feel like I’m being interviewed for a job.’

Tom blushed and fiddled with a stapler on his desk. ‘I’m sorry. This is all a bit awkward, isn’t it?’

‘It’s me who should apologise.’ Daisy sat down in the visitor’s chair. It was hard and uncomfortable and clearly designed to ensure visitors didn’t stay for very long. ‘I’ve got you caught up in my nonsense. I wanted to let you know because there’s a possibility other tabloids might pick up on it. Probably just websites, not the Sunday papers or anything. My manager is dealing with it.’

‘How does that work?’ asked Tom. ‘How do you deal with something like that?’

‘Well,’ Daisy frowned, ‘usually we provide an alternative story. Something boring and not remotely salacious. For example, we could say that the reason you and I have met a couple of times is to discuss me testing out my new cookbook on some of your students.’

Tom’s eyes widened. ‘Oh wow, that’s a great idea. But . . . if the press print that, doesn’t it mean you’ll actually have to do it?’

‘Ideally, yes,’ Daisy nodded, ‘but to be honest I’d absolutely love it, as long as it’s not a huge inconvenience for the school. Some input from your students would be incredibly useful.’

‘Well,’ Tom settled back into his chair thoughtfully. ‘I’m sure we can make that work. The parents will be thrilled.’

Daisy beamed. ‘Maybe after Christmas? You don’t have to decide now, but if you could give it some thought that would be amazing.’

‘Of course, no problem.’ He looked considerably more cheerful, which was a huge relief. They sat in awkward silence for a moment, Tom fidgeting in his chair as Daisy looked out across the wet and windblown school grounds.

Tom spoke first. ‘Is everything OK? After whatever happened on Monday?’

Daisy shook her head. ‘No, but I’ll be fine. Why didn’t you tell me about what happened to your wife?’

Tom took a deep breath, like he’d known the question was coming but it was still a punch in the chest. ‘I guess I find it really hard to talk about. It’s been over three years but sometimes it still hurts like it was yesterday.’ He looked down at his feet, his shoulders slumped in defeat. ‘We were so excited about the baby.’ Tom reached out and touched a photo frame on his desk.

Daisy leaned forward. ‘May I?’

He picked up the frame and handed it to her, then walked to the window and stared at the view across the school fields, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans. Daisy looked at the picture and suppressed a gasp of shock – it was true that Tessa had looked remarkably like her, although her hair was a warmer blonde than Daisy’s. But everything else – the eyes, the shape of her face, the full lips, the dimples – it was like looking in a mirror. The photo was a holiday selfie, Tessa and Tom laughing into the camera, looking tanned and happy. Daisy couldn’t imagine how deep that loss must feel; her heart ached for him.

Carefully, she put the photo down, then walked to the window and stood beside Tom, her arms folded. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Tom gave a sad laugh. ‘Funnily enough, you’re the one person it’s particularly hard to talk to about it. You’ve always been part of what happened, somehow.’

‘What do you mean? Because we looked alike?’

‘Partly that, yes. But also . . .’ his voice trailed off.

‘Also, what?’

He met her gaze and smiled. ‘I don’t want this to come out the wrong way, like I’ve ever blamed you in any way. But it was a Saturday in September, and she was in a hurry, rushing around, because . . .’

The pieces slotted together in Daisy’s brain and she thought she might be sick. ‘She wanted to get back for the Spotlight final.’

Tom nodded. ‘It had just started on TV when the police knocked on my door. I knew something was wrong because she’d never have missed it.’

Daisy was horrified. ‘God, I’m so sorry.’

Tom rubbed his face with both hands. ‘Tessa was such a huge fan of yours, I think she felt like you had some kind of connection, somehow. You living in the village would have blown her mind – she’d have been doing everything possible to make you her new best friend.’

‘I’m sure I’d have liked her.’

Tom smiled. ‘I’m sure you would too. I’m afraid I’ve never been able to watch your show since.’