The Holiday Swap. Zara Stoneley
grateful.’
‘You’re not supposed to be grateful, you idiot, you’re supposed to be excited.’
But she wasn’t. That was the problem.
She covered her face with her hands. ‘I ignored him the first time he asked.’
Anna laughed. ‘That is so mean.’ Then she frowned. ‘And it’s not like you at all.’
Daisy peeped through her fingers. ‘Well he mumbled, and I was busy tying the gate together and I thought maybe I’d misheard.’
‘You hoped you had, you mean. So you made him ask again, twice, and then said no! Oh, poor Jimmy.’
‘Shush, I didn’t mean it, and I didn’t say no. Oh, Anna, the second I saw the ring I just felt… oh God, this sounds awful.’
‘Spit it out then.’ Anna was looking more intrigued by the second. ‘This is better than an episode of EastEnders.’
‘If you’re not going to take me seriously, then I’m not going to talk about it.’
‘I am. Honest, cross my heart.’
‘I just felt,’ if she said it quickly it might not sound as bad as it did in her head, ‘is this it? Is this all there is?’
Anna giggled. ‘Sounds like a song,’ and she started singing.
‘This is my life, Anna.’
‘Another song.’
‘Sod off, it’s not funny. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?’
‘Well, you’re sounding a bit philosophical even for you – is this all there is? – roll on death and maggots eating your rotting corpse.’
‘I didn’t mean that, you know I didn’t. It’s just…’ She gazed out of the window into the blackness, but knew that in the morning the beautiful rolling hills that she did love would be there.
She had Mabel, she had her horse. It should be enough; she should be satisfied.
‘Spit it out then, Dais.’
‘Well, I haven’t been anywhere.’
‘And you haven’t shagged anybody else? Is this what it’s really about?’
Everybody in the village knew that Daisy had never fallen in love with a playground buddy. She’d never sneaked fags or kisses behind the bike shed, she’d just been Daisy. Then Daisy had left school and turned into Daisy and Jimmy.
‘I’m not talking about shagging.’
‘So? Can’t this dog go on the floor?’
‘She’s asleep, don’t be mean. Look, you went on proper holidays when you were a kid, didn’t you?’ Daisy said, slightly accusingly, at Anna, feeling like she wasn’t being taken seriously. ‘All we ever got was a week in a caravan in Tenby, cos Dad had to get back to the cows.’ And the chickens, and the hay-making. She sighed. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with Tenby. But we were supposed to go to France once, then there was a ferry strike. Dad said what will be will be and never tried again.’
Anna topped up the wine glasses. ‘So you’ve never even been to France?’ Daisy shook her head. ‘Or Spain?’
‘Nope.’
‘Greece? Italy?’
‘Now you’re being silly.’
‘Isle of Wight?’
‘You’re making me feel worse now, not better. I thought friends were supposed to help. I did go to Cornwall once.’
‘Well it’s a start, it used to be a separate country didn’t it?’
‘Dad was competing with a prize heifer in the Royal show. We were only there for two days.’
‘Okay, better than nothing I suppose. Just. Won’t Jimmy take you somewhere, you know, if you get married? You could have a blow-out honeymoon.’
‘He’s like Dad, he likes what he knows.’ Daisy sighed. She’d actually always liked that side of him, until it had come to the crunch. She knew where she stood with Jimmy, he was like a comfortable old fleece – the one you always grabbed. ‘He did go to Ibiza with Andy and the gang for a stag do, but that was it, and he kept saying how glad he was to be home.’
‘He is nice though, Jimmy. You do get on.’
‘My whole life is nice, Anna, that’s the problem and I hadn’t really thought about it properly until he asked.’ Had her cornered, more like. ‘But I do love him,’ maybe more in the old-fleece than mad-passion way, ‘and all this.’ She waved expansively to take in the cottage and everything outside. The world as she knew it. ‘But I just sometimes get this feeling that if I’m not careful I’ll miss out on a whole load of stuff.’
‘Like?’
‘I don’t know. Everything. I’m being daft, aren’t I? This should be enough. I should just know he’s the one for me.’
Anne grinned. ‘How should I know? Miss Footloose and Fancy-free, that’s me, but,’ the smile slipped, ‘you know what, girl? Maybe you need to sow some wild oats,’ Daisy rolled her eyes, ‘well not shag around or anything, but get away from Cheshire. I sometimes envy you, you’ve got everything while I’m just dashing round wasting my life, so I’m not going to hand out advice. But maybe you just need to get out there, go somewhere.’ She shrugged. ‘Then you’ll appreciate Jimmy and all this, or,’ she grinned, ‘never come back.’
‘I’d never not come back,’ Daisy protested, ‘it’s my home.’ She peered at Anna over her glass. ‘I could go away though, couldn’t I?’ Actually go somewhere, rather than just think about doing it.
‘You could. And you’ve got a deadline, so we need to come up with a plan, book flights to exotic locations.’
‘Anna!’
‘He’s given you an ultimatum, Dais, and it’s the best thing that could have happened to you. You can’t put it off – you either live a bit, or,’ she paused, and this time did look up, ‘or you give Jimmy an answer now.’
‘You know I’m not going to do that.’ She stared at Anna. She was right. It was her chance to actually do something.
‘If you stay here before you know it Jimmy will have moved in,’ she picked up one of Jimmy’s socks off the chair next to her and wrinkled her nose, then flung it in the air – it hit Mabel on the head, ‘and you’ll be married and have a brood of Jim and Jemima’s.’
‘He said you’ve got until Christmas,’ Anna’s voice softened, which was dangerous, so Daisy concentrated, ‘I know you’re still not sure, and you’ve got to be. This could be the most important decision you’ve ever made in your whole life.’
‘I’ll be fine. I’m perfectly capable of making my own decision.’
Anna sighed. ‘I’m not having a dig, it’s just you’ve kind of settled into middle-aged bliss without doing the bit before. You said yourself that you didn’t want to end up like your mum, giving everything up and becoming a farmer’s wife.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Well at least she had stuff to decide to give up, didn’t she?’
‘I think she had a pretty high-powered job, though she doesn’t say much. She used to fly all over the world.’
‘Exactly, and what have you done, Daisy Fischer? You said yourself that you’ve never been abroad. Let’s face it, you hardly ever get more than fifteen miles from Tippermere.’
‘Okay, I’m hopeless. Can we leave me alone now and talk about the weather?’
‘You’re