* * *
Dad is already elbow deep in Daisy’s car when I walk into the workshop.
“Get me that spanner would you, mate? Following his eyes, I grab the spanner from the bench and hand it to him.
“So what do you reckon is wrong with it?”
“Could be a couple of things, could be the wiring or even the alternator. Will know more when I’ve done a few more tests. Come to lend a hand have you?”
I hadn’t really thought beyond driving Daisy to work, but I did need to do something to occupy my mind and after yesterday’s baking fail it definitely wasn’t going to have anything to do with an oven or a recipe.
“Yeah, I got some time. Just let me know what needs doing.” The roller door rattles open, Drew is standing on the other side of it with a bag and a tray holding two coffee cups. Seeing me, he throws his head back and laughs.
“Did you drive Daisy to work this morning Ollie?” I didn’t see what was so funny about the situation.
“Tried to.” I answer him, a little too defensively.
He doubles over, laughing at my expense whilst trying to talk at the same time. “I saw her walking and,” slapping his knee he rests the cups and bag on the ground before dropping it. “And she was walking. She told you to fuck off, am I right?”
“Not in those exact words but yeah, kinda.”
“She still hates you, Ollie.” Drew takes a deep breath and stands up straight again. “She said she’d wished she’d never have to see you again.” The look on his face is serious, he was no longer kidding around.
I shrug as if the words didn’t affect me, but honestly, it was just an act. Hearing them cut me to the bone. I should have known my offer this morning wasn’t going to be received well, after all, Daisy had always had a stubborn streak about her, even back when we had been dating. She had never knowingly let me buy her dinner, I’d always had to smuggle the money back to her and it kind of turned into a game toward the end, I had felt like Ethan Hunt thinking up new ways of getting it back to her without being caught, I’d seen the Mission Impossible movies enough growing up to know the theme song by heart, I’d hum it to myself when I was on my secret missions.
“I didn’t get you a coffee either. I didn’t want to risk her spitting in all three if she didn’t know which one was yours.”
“Don’t you have some work to do, Drew?” Dad’s no-nonsense tone interrupted Drew’s account of witty banter he’d exchanged with Daisy, instead he nods and dumps dad’s coffee on the bench before heading in the direction of the office.
* * *
By lunchtime, Dad had Daisy’s car diagnosed as needing a new alternator, he had just been about to call her at the shop when she walked into the garage. The coat she’d been wearing this morning was gone and what was left was a figure hugging pink t-shirt with the shop name boasted across her glorious tits and a pair of cut-off shorts.
“Hello, love. I was just about to call you.” Dad greets her, with a warm smile on his face. He’d always liked Daisy and she had adored him.
“Oh, yeah? Must be my lucky day.”
“I’m not so sure, love. We’ve worked out the problem with your car.” For the first time since she had arrived, she’d acknowledged my presence, our eyes met briefly and her smile fell.
“I’ll see you at home, Dad.”
“Yeah, okay, Ollie. See you at home.” Just as I climb in behind the wheel I glance up to see Daisy watching after me, a ghost of a smile on her lips. What it meant? I had no idea.
6
daisy
* * *
Luke had informed me that I was going to be without my car for another week, the alternator needed replacing which meant a wait for parts. It wasn’t ideal because I needed my car but I needed it running. I trusted the old man to have my best interests at heart, so when he offered me the use of his own car I was touched. I had thanked him but declined.
The afternoon rush kept me distracted, the book club met like clockwork every Friday afternoon. The club by definition had little to do with books, especially when it was more of a group of women stopping by to drink coffee and sample the new recipes I had worked on over the week. They had always been generous with the criticism of my experiments and with their town gossip.
Today had been no exception. Usually I would hide in the kitchen, baking and creating whilst leaving them to discuss the new rinse colour of Bernadette’s hair or love lives of the Fosford town folk but today was different, I couldn’t help overhearing their topic of conversation because as soon as I heard his name I was unable to distract myself well enough to ignore the idle gossip.
“You know what I heard the other day?” Anna, who was the principal at the middle school paused for a captive audience. “Luke Coxen’s oldest son is back in town. Oliver, you know the one who left to join the police?”
There was umming and aahing from the women in the group. I wiped down the benches for the third time trying to listen in on the conversation.
“Daisy, you know Oliver right?” Wendy spun around in the chair to direct her question at me.
“Hmm, what’s that?” My acting was never going to win me an Oscar or an Emmy, that much was clear. All I needed was for these ladies to believe I wasn’t remotely interested in their conversation about Oliver.
“Oliver Coxen, didn’t the two of you used to date?” Wendy was the worst gossip of the bunch and she had no shame in digging for information.
“Yes, once upon a time.” Once upon a time, I had thought we were in love, silently I add.
“Do you know why he is back in town?” See? Wendy was like a beagle on a fox hunt, with the fox being the gossip in this scenario.
“No, Wendy. I’ve only seen him a couple of times. We haven’t really spoken.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me with a grin on her face,
“You two making up for lost time maybe?” It was so far from the truth it was laughable.
“No, Wendy. Oliver and I no longer speak.” I deadpan in reply.
Wendy wasn’t a stupid woman even in the pursuit of information she still knew when to ease off. She swung back around on her chair and I felt a small sense of relief that I had escaped the firing squad, albeit even if it was to be only temporarily.
The topic of Oliver soon drops and I focus on getting ready for the bake sale. This year I had seriously overextended myself but I was determined to get everything ready that I’d committed to.
It wasn’t until the club was calling out their farewells that I had come to realise how late it was and that I should’ve been considering shutting shop. Standing in my little kitchen with floury hands I stop to take stock of the afternoon’s work. I had managed to achieve fifteen cakes that were all iced, creamed and decorated ready for the morning’s collection. I was pretty pleased, to say the least. It was amazing what a bit of steely determination motivated by thou who shall remain nameless could invoke.
* * *
Flipping the open sign to closed I locked up, so pleased with myself and beyond exhausted, I didn’t immediately see Oliver leaning against the light post on the path in front of the shop. The stupid light was only good for a prop, it had never worked in the years I had owned Sweet Nothing’s and on more than one occasion I had complained to the council that it was a safety hazard that it wasn’t lit at night but they had brushed me off and told me it was my responsibility.