Here and Now - Santa Montefiore Page 0,47

herself.

When the telephone rang, Daisy answered it. After a brief chat she called to her mother, ‘It’s Beryl. She says you’re meant to be having tea with her.’

Marigold blanched. Daisy watched her with concern. Her mother didn’t register surprise, as one would expect, but fear. Daisy saw it in her eyes and felt a stab of fear in her own heart.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Marigold, speaking into the phone in a calm voice that betrayed nothing of her anxiety. ‘I’ve been busy with Dennis’s puzzle. Shall I pop over now?’

‘I’ve baked some biscuits,’ said Beryl. ‘A new recipe out of a book I was given for Christmas. They’re very good. I think you’ll like them. Do come, but don’t fret. There’s no hurry.’

Dennis insisted on driving Marigold to Beryl’s house even though it was only a short walk away. Once he returned he found Daisy in the hall, waiting for him. ‘We need to talk,’ she said and Dennis knew from the serious expression on her face that she wanted to talk about Marigold.

‘Come to my shed,’ he suggested quietly and they walked across the garden together. Daisy noticed the bird feeder, full of seed, and was consoled that at least her mother hadn’t forgotten to do that.

Dennis closed the door behind them. Father and daughter stood looking at each other for a moment, not knowing how to broach such a sensitive subject. Neither wanted to admit that something was wrong, because doing that would make it real. But they also knew that they couldn’t avoid the reality any longer. Finally, Daisy spoke. ‘She’s forgetting everything, Dad,’ she said. ‘And it’s been going on since I moved back from Italy. I suspect it started long before that. I think she should see a doctor.’

Dennis frowned. ‘It’ll upset her if she thinks we’ve noticed.

She’s trying hard to hide it. She doesn’t want to admit she’s slowing down.’ He smiled tenderly. ‘You know Mum, she likes being in control. She likes looking after us all.’

‘If it’s nothing more than old age then at least the doctor can tell her to slow down. She takes on too much. If a doctor told her to slow down, she’d have to, wouldn’t she? I’m not suggesting she has a brain tumour, but we should at least look into it, for our own peace of mind.’

Dennis was unconvinced. He knew how Marigold would react. She’d be very upset and he didn’t want to upset her. Then he remembered the second cup of tea she’d brought him and his heart sank. She’d never done that before. ‘How about we all pull together and help her?’ he suggested.

‘Yes, I agree. We could do much more for ourselves.’

‘I mean really help her. If she plans tea with Beryl then we can gently remind her, for example. We can prompt her without her knowing we’re prompting her.’

Daisy sighed. ‘I’m not sure it’s that easy, Dad. We’re working. We’re not with her the whole time. We can’t prompt her in the shop, can we?’

‘Let’s give it a go, eh? Let’s just try.’

‘I still want her to see a doctor.’

‘Then you have to suggest it.’

Daisy smiled sympathetically. ‘I will, Dad. Don’t worry. I know this sort of thing makes you uncomfortable.’ But Daisy was prepared to upset her mother if the end result gave them all peace of mind.

Beryl offered Marigold a biscuit. Marigold took one and bit into it. She nodded. ‘Very good, Beryl.’

‘Aren’t they? I’ll give you the name of the book. Simple recipes, but delicious.’ Beryl looked at Marigold across the kitchen table and noticed she was looking unusually pale. ‘Dennis made you another jigsaw puzzle, did he?’

‘He makes me one every year, but this year I think he’s outdone himself. He’s certainly outdone me. I’m finding it quite a struggle. I can say that to you. But I can’t tell Dennis. He worked so hard on it.’

‘He’s very talented, your husband.’

‘Yes, he is.’

‘That mole trap he made for the Commodore has got everyone talking. He’s caught twenty-five moles, you know.’

‘Goodness! That’s a lot of moles.’

‘He’s setting them free in the countryside.’ She grinned. ‘I hope they don’t find their way back and set up home in my garden.’

‘So do I,’ Marigold agreed with a chuckle. ‘That would be ironic, wouldn’t it, if Dennis made a trap, only for them to come back and make their home in his garden?’ She began to feel better. It was good to be out of the house, at Beryl’s table, drinking a

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