Here and Now - Santa Montefiore Page 0,91

beaming up at her. She made an effort to smile, showing him the face he knew, not the pinched, anxious one he didn’t, and wondered how long it would be before she could no longer make him breakfast. Before Daisy had to do it in her place. Marigold looked down at her hands and felt a sinking feeling in her heart. When she was incapable of doing the simplest household tasks, what would she do with her time? She glanced out of the window, at the birds diving in and out of the hedges and playing on the grass, and knew that as long as she had her garden and her birds, she’d be content.

On the Monday morning Daisy went for a walk. She felt sick in her heart. Nan might be in denial about Marigold’s dementia, but Daisy wasn’t. It made perfect sense. As if the pieces of the puzzle that were Marigold’s forgetfulness, disorientation, bewilderment and tiredness had at once fitted together to make a clear and logical picture. Of course, Nan didn’t see it, because Nan didn’t want to see it. She liked to have everyone looking after her.

Daisy had tried to smile and laugh through breakfast as if nothing had changed and was exhausted from the effort. But everything was so uncertain now. What was Marigold’s prognosis? How long did she have before she had to retire from the shop, step down from her committees and remain at home? How long before they had to care for her? Daisy thought about the fields around the house that Marigold loved so much and felt more strongly than ever about Taran wanting to sell the estate to developers. How often had she heard her mother sigh with pleasure at the changing seasons so beautifully represented in the landscape beyond their garden. Yellow oilseed rape in spring, golden wheat in summer, richly ploughed earth in autumn and green shoots in the frosted ground in winter. Every day dawned with the same sun, but a different quality of light transformed the land and made every moment unique. If Marigold’s view became concrete and brick she’d no longer witness the seasons from her bedroom window. Daisy couldn’t bear to think of her being denied that pleasure, when so many of her pleasures were going to be taken from her.

The following morning she arrived at the Sherwoods’ farm to find Lady Sherwood in the hall with a couple of men, one old and bespectacled, one young and fresh-faced, holding clipboards and looking officious. ‘Daisy, may I introduce you to Simon Wentworth and Julian Bing from the auction house. They’re here to value everything for probate. Such a bore.’ She sighed and watched Daisy shake the men’s hands. ‘It’s going to take weeks to go through the house and all of Owen’s things.’

‘Can I help?’ Daisy asked.

‘Sadly not,’ Lady Sherwood replied. ‘Only I know what belonged to him. And he was a hoarder, unfortunately. Before you die, Daisy, make sure you don’t leave any clutter. It’s a pain in the neck for those poor souls left behind who have to deal with it. When this is over, I’m going to go through all my cupboards and have a good clear-out.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ said Daisy. ‘I’ll go to the barn, but don’t hesitate to disturb me if you need any help.’

‘Thank you, Daisy. I’ll leave you to get some drawing done.

I’ve taken up rather a lot of your time recently.’

‘Dogs can wait,’ said Daisy.

‘Yes, but can their owners?’ Lady Sherwood added with a smile. ‘Some of them are awfully demanding, I know.’

Daisy left them to it and walked across to the barn. She was working on a springer spaniel who belonged to a woman in town. Cedric had recommended her and it was her first commission outside the village. A big step. Daisy hoped it would lead to more commissions further afield.

At two, Lady Sherwood entered the barn in a fluster. She was holding out the telephone. ‘Daisy,’ she called. When Daisy stepped out from behind the easel Lady Sherwood dropped her shoulders with relief. ‘I’ve got Taran on the phone. He needs a whole lot of stuff from Owen’s study. I don’t know where to look. Really, it’s beyond me. I wonder if you could help.’

Daisy’s heart gave a leap. The last time she’d seen Taran was outside her front door in the middle of the night, not long after he had possibly tried to kiss her. Her belly was seized by

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