Page 91 of The Life Daisy Devlin Designed
“How’s that working out for you?” Shit, that sounded awful! She sighed. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant.”
His expression closed. “It doesn’t matter – Iknowwhat you meant. Look, this was fun.” He looked like he was about to say something else, then changed his mind. “I’d better go, Daisy. I’ve a lot to do.”
“How about I meet you at home later and we’ll go out for dinner?”
“Takeout might suit me better tonight.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, honestly. My head’s not in the right space.” He kissed her quickly and left before she had a chance to say anything else.
Daisy sat down at the table and looked around the little garden. How many secrets was James keeping from her, she wondered.
But until she was ready to tell him everything, she couldn’t expect him to be honest with her either.
CHAPTER 42
Daisy locked her bike in the bike park outside the office, and slipped off her helmet, running a hand back through her hair in an attempt to untangle the knots.
The cycle in had helped to clear her head a bit, but she still felt awful after the weekend. Now that James was buying a new app, his work was bound to get even busier and, although he claimed there was nothing between him and Alma, the atmosphere at home was more strained than ever.
The one bright moment had been Rosie, surprisingly, who’d phoned on Sunday evening.
“I’ve been thinking about Freya’s daughter,” Rosie had said. “Do you think Freya would agree to let me see her?”
Daisy had been momentarily speechless. “Probably. I mean, I’d say so. Would she have to go to Galway?”
“I’d come up to Dublin. I haven’t visited you in a while. Could I stay the weekend?”
“Sure, what about the kids, though?”
“Séan will manage. Look, if you don’t want me to stay, just say so.”
“Of course you can stay!” Daisy had almost tripped over her words. “It’s just, you’re not practising right now, and I don’t think Freya would expect you to drop everything and come to Dublin for her.”
Rosie had huffed out a sigh. “The twins have been invited to their millionth birthday party of the year this weekend. AndIhave managed to be at every single one. But I’m worn out, Daisy. When they handed me those bloody invitations, I felt like tearing them up. So I told Séan he’s taking them. He can drop the boys off to Mum and Dad’s, and then spend a couple of hours making sure our daughters don’t fall off the top of a bouncy castle or eat too many sweets, or burst into tears because they don’t like how the party clown did their face-painting.” She’d paused for breath. “By the way, have you talked to Mum about this Galway market nonsense?”
Daisy had felt like a child who’d forgotten to do her homework. “I was actually about to phone her,” she’d lied.
Rosie had made a disbelieving sound. “Don’t forget!”
Daisy had hung up and tried to think of an excuse for phoning her mother. Not that she’d needed an excuse, obviously. But it would help.
“Would you like Kayley to write a special message for Dad on the album?” she’d asked, when she rang a while later.
“Oh, just tell her what it’s for,” Miriam had said, “and let her write whatever she likes. But make sure our names are spelt properly – Americans spell everything so differently.”
“Grand, no bother.” Daisy had paused. “So,um, Rosie was saying that you’ve taken a stand in the Galway market for your art. That must be interesting.”
“Ah, I love it, Daisy!” Miriam’s voice had brightened. “I meet so many gorgeous people. All the stall holders are so friendly, and the public has been so supportive. Sure, didn’t I sell two paintings last week?”
Daisy had murmured something vaguely encouraging.
“But it’s not even about that,” Miriam had continued. “We creatives spend a lot of time by ourselves, and it can get a bit lonely. The market’s a great outlet.”
Daisy had fallen silent. It hadn’t occurred to her that her stay-at-home mother wasn’t perfectly content pottering around her beautiful house and garden in Oranmore, painting and cooking and seeing friends. But her mum was an intensely sociable person, and Daisy had suddenly realised how isolated she might feel when her dad was at work.
“I’m glad, Mum. You know, maybe you should think about putting on an exhibition? You could ask other artists to collaborate.”
“I’ve thought about it, all right.” Miriam had sounded pleased. “I was half-afraid you were going to start going on about my self-portrait. Rosie is obsessed! I should have known it’d never bother you.”
Now, as Daisy climbed the smooth, polished stairs to their office, she wondered if her mother had suspected that Rosie might ask for Daisy’s help to talk her out of selling at the market – and had cleverly cut her off with some counter tactics.
