at that. She had always assumed that Sir Owen had lots of money. ‘Do you make more money being an architect?’ she asked.
‘Yes, and I don’t worry about the weather.’
‘Sir Owen had looked like he had no worries at all. He was always very jolly.’
‘He was more philosophical than me. An accepter. He didn’t let the weather upset him. I’m a shallower man than my father, Daisy. He loved nature, like you do. He liked helping people, hence his knighthood for his charity work. He was genial and everyone loved him. The only thing was he was controlling in his enthusiasm. He wanted me to be like him and that was stifling, because I wasn’t like him at all.’
‘I suppose he wanted you to take over the farm when he was too old to run it.’
‘That was never going to happen. I studied in Canada and chose Canada as my home. For an accepter, he was pretty unaccepting about that.’
‘I think it’s important for parents to let their children be who they want to be. So many try to live vicariously through their children, or push them to succeed for their own glory. I’m lucky. My parents have never been like that. They’ve always given us the freedom to choose who we want to be.’
‘You’ve made a good choice in being an artist, Daisy. How’s that bulldog coming along?’
‘Done.’
‘So which animal is it now?’
‘Julia Cobbold’s terrier.’
‘Isn’t she the vicar’s wife?’ he asked.
‘Yes, and the village head girl.’
He smiled. ‘It’s a real community, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘It really is. You know, it’s nice being a part of it.’
‘That’s what my father thought,’ he said. ‘I’m like my mother. I prefer to keep people at arm’s-length.’
‘Your mother hasn’t kept me at arm’s-length,’ said Daisy with a grin.
‘Neither have I,’ Taran added, grinning back. ‘I’m not sure what it is, perhaps there’s just something special about you . . .’ The way he looked at her made her stomach lurch. Daisy laughed off her embarrassment. Was Taran flirting with her?
Marigold was in the shop, serving a customer, when Suze called. She didn’t recognize her voice and told her, politely, to hold for a minute while she finished putting the goods through the till. Once the customer had left, she picked up the phone. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting. How can I help you?’ she asked.
‘Mum, it’s me!’ said Suze impatiently. She thought it very odd that her own mother hadn’t recognized her voice.
‘Suze! Oh, silly me. Sorry. It’s noisy in here.’ Which wasn’t true, she just found the telephone a little confusing these days.
‘It’s fine. Don’t worry.’
‘So, what is it?’
‘I’ve got some good news!’
Marigold smiled at the quiver in her daughter’s voice. ‘What is it?’
‘The dress is ready for its first fitting.’
‘Oh, that’s very good news,’ said Marigold.
‘And I want you to be the first to see it.’
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
‘This afternoon at five? Can you make it?’
Marigold thought of driving into town and her enthusiasm deflated. She didn’t feel very confident behind the wheel anymore. ‘Of course I can,’ she said, knowing she had no choice. Knowing how much it meant to Suze.
Just as she put down the telephone Cedric Weatherby’s shiny pink face appeared in the doorway. ‘I had to come,’ he gushed, pushing the door wide.
Marigold looked at him inquisitively.
He strode up to the counter and gave Marigold a beaming smile. ‘Your daughter is a genius. Yes, she is. She’s right up there with the very best portraitists of our time.’
‘It’s finished, is it?’ she asked.
‘It’s finally back from the framer’s and looking gorgeous! She’s captured every one of my ladies. And their eyes are extraordinary. They watch you as you move about the room, just like they do in real life. Now they will be for ever immortalized in pastels. I’m so grateful to her. I gave her a small tip, because I don’t think she charges enough. She could ask for double, at least.’
‘That’s very generous of you, Cedric.’
‘You must come and view it. I’m having a little drinks tomorrow night to unveil it. I hope you can all join me. Nothing grand, just some nice wine and nibbles. I’m going home to make the nibbles now. I’m out of flour.’ He turned to Tasha, who was unpacking boxes in the aisle. ‘Be a darling and get me some plain flour, will you.’ Then to Marigold. ‘Don’t forget to write that in your book.’
He watched her take the notebook from beneath the counter and