Chapter 58

‘There you go,' I say, looking proudly at the bandage on Daisy's hand as Mum shuffles in with a tray of tea and biscuits, looking tanned and radiant in her yellow blouse and white slacks.

‘Thank you,' Daisy manages, back to her old self again. ‘I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean to scare anyone.'

Rocking back on my heels, I get to my feet and brush myself down. ‘I did a first aid course at school. Thanks, Mum,' I say, taking a mug off the tray. I'm glad we've got Daisy in a stable state, but I still want to know what caused her to uncharacteristically lash out like that. My eyes slide to the blood stains on her blouse. Was it an accident, or did she deliberately cut herself? Does she self-harm? I didn't see any signs of it, but then I had other things on my mind.

‘So, is someone going to address the elephant in the room, or are we just going to sit down to tea and biscuits?' Zelda says, putting an entire Jaffa cake into her mouth.

‘They're not biscuits, they're cakes,' Georgia comments, taking one from the plate in Mum's outstretched hand.

‘Yes, I always found that strange,' Mum muses. She offers one to me. I shake my head, I've never been a fan of Jaffas, and she sets the plate down on the oblong wooden table. ‘I mean, biscuits are crumbly, aren't they? Whereas this…'

‘Will you just stop.' Zelda shoots to her feet and jabs a finger at Daisy. ‘What were you thinking holding my mum and niece at knifepoint.'

Daisy looks up at her, then at me pleadingly. ‘I wasn't. I didn't…'

‘Oh, Zelda, that's not what happened,' Mum interjects, coming to Daisy's rescue.

‘Nan's right. It was an accident. I'm sorry if I scared you, Mum. I panicked.' I tell Georgia that it's fine. Phoning me was the right call.

‘Zelda, will you please calm down,' I say firmly.

‘Me? I'm not the one who was waving a twelve-inch knife in my hand,' she spits, and I give her a look depicting maybe not now but you did stick a letter knife into a man's neck that almost killed him. ‘That was different,' Zelda protests, reading my mind. I raise my eyebrows, even though I know she's right and that Frank deserved every bit of pain and fear he felt. ‘Jesus,' she mutters, and, in a huff, sits down and snatches another Jaffa cake off the plate.

‘Zelda's right. I was out of order.' Daisy leans back in the armchair, cradling her injured hand, eyes on the ceiling. ‘I don't know what to say. It all happened so fast. I…' she tails off.

‘It's okay, Daisy, I'll explain.' Mum settles down on a high-back chair, tea in hand. ‘Georgia was in the front room playing with her phone on Ticktack.'

‘Tiktok,' Georgia corrects, taking a sip of tea and pulling a face. ‘Urgh. This needs more sugar.'

‘Anyway,' Mum says, as Georgia scuttles off to the kitchen. ‘Daisy and I were in the kitchen sorting out dinner. Georgia was hungry and so was I. I hate inflight food. I had a few things in the freezer and picked up some essentials from MS at Heathrow. Daisy offered to help me, bless her. I called out to Georgia to get rid of those rotting flowers.' I was right about the abandoned vase. ‘We were having a bit of a chinwag about…' Mum pauses, glances at Daisy, but Daisy is giving her untouched mug of tea the thousand-mile-stare. ‘Well, I was telling her about my girls, you know.' Oh, Mum, I do know. Mum has a habit of boasting about our achievements to anyone who'll listen. Daisy's lucky she didn't get the photo album out. ‘Then she asked why I didn't have any more children, try for a boy.' Mum sets her mug down on the table. ‘It's a reasonable enough question. You were just making conversation, weren't you, love?'

‘Bit personal,' Zelda groans.

Actually, Zelda's right. It was a personal question. I hate it when people ask me why I didn't try for another. Mum might've had secondary infertility for all Daisy knew. She didn't. Mum's never been motherly. Dad was more hands-on with us – taking us to the park swings, the cinema, fairground, while Mum got on with everything else.

‘I laughed,' Mum goes on. ‘I mean, I love the bones of you girls, but I'm not mum-of-the-year material, am I? I mean, you two were quite enough for me, thank you very much. You went quiet on me then, didn't you, love?' Daisy looks destroyed. Did she lose a baby? Is she infertile? It's not something we ever discussed. ‘But being the stupid woman that I am, instead of steering off the subject of children, I berated her for cutting the carrots too thickly, said my Bella could do a better job when she was twelve.' I rub my forehead. It's not the most tactful thing to say to someone you barely know. ‘I was joking,' she clarifies, sensing my disapproval. ‘Oh, I don't know why I said it, I'm sorry, Daisy. I didn't mean to offend you.'

‘You didn't,' Daisy says to the TV, flickering in the corner of the room. ‘It's just that I was the house cook growing up. I know how to prepare food.' I'll second that. I will miss her cooking. ‘But I should have just let you take the knife and carry on. I mean, it is your house.' Georgia bustles back into the room and Daisy draws her legs in to let her by. ‘I shouldn't have put up a fight. I'm sorry I shouted at you, Sandra. I've got a bit of a short fuse.' Has she? I hadn't noticed, but then I don't know her that well. ‘I had a bad day.' With her two middle fingers, she rubs her forehead and sighs. ‘When I saw the blood, it made me panic and I just …' she falters. My entire body sags with relief. That explains it all – she suffers from hemophobia.

‘Daisy didn't have a great upbringing,' Georgia interjects, and we all swivel our heads towards her, and then her phone starts ringing in her hand. ‘Parents were both alkies.' Getting to her feet, Georgia presses the phone to her ear. ‘Hi, Dad.'

My heart freezes. Tom only rings Georgia during working hours if it's an emergency. What could be so urgent? I imagine Tom going back to his practice, still reeling from my accusations. Is he going to go grass me up to Georgia about the DNA test now that I accused him of murder?