Page 96 of The Life Daisy Devlin Designed
He walked away, and Daisy had the uneasy feeling that she’d let an opportunity pass. If Matt wasn’t going to say anything, shouldn’t she have said something herself?
Only what would she say? It was pathetic, but her thoughts about Matt and James were as woolly as the cute hand-knit jumpers in her wardrobe. With a sigh, she carried the painting out to her car, sliding it in behind the two front seats, before lifting the next box out of the boot. Now she just had to figure out how to explain it to James.
The painting was still in Daisy’s car when she collected Rosie from Heuston Station later that evening. There was something different about her, Daisy thought, as Rosie slid into the passenger seat, leaning over to give Daisy a brief hug.
“Thanks for picking me up,” Rosie said, as Daisy drove back up the quays.
Daisy glanced over. “No bother. Will you get some shopping done while you’re here?”
“Ah, maybe,” Rosie said. “It’s just good to get away.”
Daisy frowned, trying to figure out exactly what Rosie was saying. “Is everything okay at home? You and Séan all right?”
“Of course!” Rosie tutted. “And the kids are grand. I told you, I just needed a break.” She looked like she was about to say something else, then shrugged. “I got my hair cut, what do you think?”
“The shoulder-length suits you,” Daisy said, honestly. “It frames your face like that.” When Rosie smiled, she added, “Freya really appreciates this, by the way.”
Rosie’s smile widened. “Would I have met her at your birthday party?”
“No – she’s not a friend, just a client. But she’s stuck, so ...”
“Once she understands that I can’t give her an official diagnosis while I’m still on a career break.”
“I told her.” Daisy remembered how relieved Freya had looked when she’d told her that Rosie had agreed to assess Holly.
“This isn’t about labelling her,” Freya had said, firmly. “It’s about helping us understand if there’s any issues. Just to make things easier for us and for her.”
Rosie opened her window a couple of inches. “How’s James?”
Daisy opened her mouth to say he was fine, but found she couldn’t get the words out. She had no idea how James was anymore, or what he was thinking most of the time. She wondered if Rosie would notice anything this weekend. Maybe she’d push her to do something; something would be better than nothing. She tried to imagine what her life would be like without James. She’d be free to give Matt that second chance. Which was what she wanted, wasn’t it? She gripped the wheel a bit tighter.
“Daisy?” Rosie interrupted her thoughts. “Is everything all right?”
“Absolutely.” Daisy concentrated hard on the road. “I was just thinking.”
“You definitely have enough space for me to stay, don’t you?”
Daisy glanced over. “There’s a sofa bed,” she said patiently.
“A sofa bed,” Rosie repeated.
Daisy stopped at red lights at O’Connell Bridge, and searched for a change of topic. “Did you know that Mum has a website?”
“What?” Rosie whipped around to look at her.
The light turned green and Daisy pulled off again.
“For her art?” Rosie asked.
“Yep.” Idly, Daisy wondered if their mother’s self-portrait was on it. Probably. Why wouldn’t it be? It was one of the best things her mum had ever painted. She’d worn no clothes and no make-up – and she’d painted herself honestly. She realised suddenly that she didn’t care who saw it – her mother should be incredibly proud.
“Did Mum tell you?” Rosie demanded.
“Er, no, actually.” Daisy gestured vaguely in the direction of the back seat. “Matt discovered it.”
Rosie peered around her seat. “Christ, that’s not it, is it?”
Daisy spluttered with laughter. “Ah come on, that’d be too weird. No, it’s one of me that Mum painted from a photo she took some years ago.”
