hijacking her attention. Every time she managed to get behind her easel, he came to drag her away. And she went willingly, leaving her halffinished dog on the paper. Weary of the missed calls and texts from Luca, she changed her phone number.
Taran only planned to be in the UK for two weeks and he wanted to spend all of it with Daisy. They went for long walks with the dogs. They kissed on the bench. They made love in the woods and they picnicked on Sir Owen’s bench, looking out over the harvested fields that shimmered like gold in the early autumn light. On bright nights they lay side by side on the lawn outside Taran’s house and gazed up at the stars. They held hands, they talked about nothing and they laughed, a lot. Whenever Daisy felt the creeping insinuation of fear she asked herself: What’s wrong with now? And there was nothing wrong with now because she was with Taran and love made her feel careless and filled her with optimism; love made her feel invincible.
‘Come to Toronto,’ he said on their last evening together.
They lay entwined in the barn, in the bed that was intended for Taran’s holidays and weekends, but which had never been slept in, until now. Taran was tracing his fingers down Daisy’s naked spine.
‘I can’t,’ she replied. ‘Mum needs me here and I’ve got the puzzle to paint with Dad.’
‘Those things can wait. Come and spend some time with me. You might find that you like it.’
‘I know I’d like it. But I don’t want to like it. I’m needed here.’
He sighed and thought for a moment. Then he curled a tendril of hair behind her ear and looked at her seriously. ‘I’m falling in love with you, Daisy,’ he said candidly. ‘I haven’t said that to anyone, ever. This is a big deal for me. I just want to be with you. I don’t want to be on another continent. One of us will have to give.’
‘I’ve just given the last six years of my life and it’s taught me a valuable lesson.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I don’t want to be the one to give any more.’
He pulled a face, intended to appeal to her heart. ‘What about me? Don’t you want to give to me?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to compromise, Taran. I know what I want and I won’t accept anything less. Not for anybody.’
‘You want to be near your mother. I understand that.’
‘And I want to be here.’
‘Here?’
‘Home.’
He nodded. ‘Okay. So come for a week. Let me show you my city. Even if you like it, which you will, I won’t ask you to stay.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ she replied. ‘Maybe.’
He smiled, then took her wrists in his hands and rolled her onto her back. He lay on top of her and kissed her. ‘Maybe is nearly a yes.’
‘Maybe is maybe,’ she laughed.
‘It’s a yes,’ he said, kissing her again.
‘Perhaps.’
‘That’s a yes, too.’
After Taran left, Daisy was grateful to have something with which to occupy her time. Otherwise, she knew she’d just spend it mooning over him. It was hard working in the barn, because everything in it reminded her of him, and she missed him. But she managed to finish the portrait of Basil, then turned her mind to the puzzle. And in the late evening, just before she went to bed, Taran FaceTimed her and they spoke long into the night.
The jigsaw puzzle had got the whole village talking. Even those who didn’t really want to talk, like John Porter and Pete Dickens who were feuding over the overgrown magnolia tree in Pete’s garden. Much to their wives’ surprise, after they had met with Daisy and discussed Marigold’s puzzle, the two men agreed to meet over a beer in the pub and talk about the tree like the sensible adults they were. They left the pub two hours later, after a game of darts, the best of friends, and Pete wondered why he hadn’t agreed to trim the tree in the first place. ‘Life is short,’ he explained to his wife. ‘And uncertain. I don’t want to waste the time I have left on this planet fighting over a bloody tree.’ Daisy knew that her mother would be thrilled that her condition had prompted a reconciliation between the two neighbours, but she couldn’t tell her because, on the one hand, the puzzle was meant to be a surprise and, on the other, Daisy wasn’t sure her mother