Daisy Haites: The Great Undoing: Book 4 (Magnolia Parks Universe)
Daisy Haites: Chapter 18

I’m at the Compound just killing time with Jules, playing FIFA in his media room, when Daisy wanders in, little denim dress, not really done up, but a bit, and I wonder if it’s for me? I don’t know whether she knew I was here or not, but I want to think that she’s showing off for me.

“Hey.” I nod my chin at her and she comes and perches on the arm of my chair.

I try not to read into it. There are other chairs about, could have perched on Julian’s seat — but she didn’t.

He nods his chin at her. “Where are you off to?”

“Oh, I’m just waiting for Tills—” She flashes him a quick smile. “We’re going to the National Gallery before he flies home for Christmas—”

“Oh.” Julian looks interested. “Casing the joint?”

She crosses her arms, unimpressed, but he keeps going. “You finally going to let me steal Whistlejacket?”

Daisy glares over at him and then her phone starts ringing and that suits her brother fine, already bored of their conversation and back into the game.

“Hello?” She plugs her ear. And I’m not trying to listen in, except that I am.

“Oh,” she says.

I look over at her; face all fallen. I catch her brother’s eye.

“No — that’s fine — no, I know. It’s — that’s fine. Yeah. Okay. Okay, bye.”

She hangs up, purses her lips and pockets her phone. She breathes out of her nose.

“You good?” Julian asks, pausing the game.

“Yeah—” She shrugs. “No, yeah — it’s fine. He just can’t take me anymore.”

“Oh—” Julian nods, watching her closely.

She flashes us both a quick smile and she looks sad. “I already sent Miguel home — I thought we — anyway, never mind.”

Julian checks his watch, makes a noise with his mouth as he thinks to himself. “I’ve got a meeting in an hour but I can take you after?” he tells her.

“Oh—” She frowns. “Um, where’s your meeting? It’s just open til six is all—”

“I’ll take you,” I say before I even realise I’m saying it.

Both siblings look over at me, surprised. His eyebrows are arched up, well amused, and her eyes are just wide in a way that makes me feel kind of hopeful, kind of sad all at once.

“Really?” She blinks. “You don’t have plans?”

I shrug. “Not important ones—”

I ignore the face her brother makes, hope Daisy misses it too.

“Okay—” Her whole face goes bright. “I’ll go grab my coat.”

I nod at her, hope my face doesn’t give me away.

Julian watches her leave then peers over at me, and I’m already rolling my eyes.

“Does Vanna know she’s not important?”

“No.” I shrug. “Vanna thinks she’s the centre of the universe—”

Julian clicks his tongue. “What are you playing at?”

“Nothing—” I give him a look. “Just taking my friend’s sister to an art gallery.”

“Never mind that you’re in love with her, then?” he asks, eyebrows back up.

“Yeah.” I sniff. “Never mind that.”

We lock eyes, and I think he thinks it’s something he has over me, that he knows I love her. But actually, I don’t give a shit who knows I love her. Or maybe I do because she loves someone else now and I hate looking stupid.

And then she appears in the doorway, all perfect and shit.

“Ready?” I push past her brother who shoves me as I do, shaking his head.

“Yep.” She smiles. She looks nervous, I think.

“Bye, then—” Julian calls after her and she waves without looking back.

She follows me out to the car and I look over at her, offering her the keys.

“You want to drive?”

A proper smile cracks over her and I swallow heavy because I miss her.

“Yes—” She plucks them from me and climbs into my car, peering over at me all happy.

There are so many things I want to say to her — that I miss her, that I love her, that I’m sorry, why is she still with that cop, is she okay? — but I say none of them — mostly because she looks happy and sort of at ease.

I don’t know how much peace she gets these days, or space, or silence. I know before she never used to feel like she was alone, so I just look between her and the window. I’m sort of struck that we’re here in my car again, and even though it’s not how I want it, I’ll take it anyway because the sun’s behind her and it’s lighting her up like she’s got a halo, and to me she does.

She flicks her eyes over at me and looks a bit shy. “Are you being quiet out of weirdness or niceness?”

“Niceness.” I sniff and she looks over at me with a smile that has soft edges, like she’s not all-the-way happy and I want her to be all-the-way happy all the time.

“You’re not going home with him for Christmas?” I ask, because I’m nosy.

She glances over, smiles again. Looks a bit sad. “No—”

I frown a bit. “Is that weird?”

She takes a long breath, thinking as she does. “His dad… is a retired policeman.”

“Oh, shit—” I laugh.

“I don’t think I’ve been their favourite choice their son has ever made.” She flashes me a quick smile like it doesn’t hurt her but I know her, so I know it does.

“And he’s still going anyway?” I ask, a bit cause I’m a prick and I want him to mean less to her.

She shrugs. “It’s his family.”

I nod a few times. “You and Tiller are okay, though?” I ask, even though I don’t want to know the answer in case they are.

“Yeah, we’re—” A brief pause. “No, we’re fine,” she says with zero conviction. She glances at me quickly and then it’s eyes back on the road, and she’s holding that wheel so tight at one point I reach over and shake her hands loose, and she says nothing, just laughs like she’s embarrassed, but our hands touched, and that’s all I think about til we pull up to the gallery.

I open her car door and look down at her. “I didn’t realise before,“ I nod my head back to the old days, “that you liked art. I knew you stole it, I didn’t know you liked it.”

She purses her lips and looks at me seriously. “There were lots of things you didn’t know before.”

I stare over at her for a few seconds, sigh a little.

“I know.” I nod, wonder if how sorry I am is all over my face. “Are you going to hold it over my head forever, then?”

“What?” She blinks, eyebrows up, eyes sparked and ready to fight. “That you were madly in love with someone else while I was in love with you?” She walks quickly up the stairs ahead of me before turning back to glare at me. “Maybe.”

“It was a mistake,” I tell her.

Her eyes go a bit dark. “I’m sure it was—”

I shake my head at her. “That’s not what I meant, Dais—”

“I know what you meant,” she tells me proudly, but I don’t think she does.

We’re inside now, and I move past her, wordlessly buying our admissions…

Should I feel shit about this conversation we’re barely having? I can’t tell. She’s holding it over my head and she’s pushing me away, but there’s something about it, that she’s still fucked up about it, that she’s still angry at me for fucking up how I did, that makes me happy because now I’m fairly sure that her and Tiller aren’t actually fine.

I don’t speak again until we’re standing in front of a painting.

“Christ Among the Doctors,” she tells me, staring at it. “He’s meant to be twelve.”

I frown at Jesus. “He’s got a beard.” I peer closer. “He kind of looks like the Mona Lisa.”

She laughs a tiny bit — I can’t tell if it’s because she thinks I’m an idiot or not and then she walks away, shaking her head. Idiot, I guess.

I jog after her, and I like the feeling of wanting her and chasing her. I pass her a map of the gallery and she gives me a look like I’m a dick.

“I don’t need it.”

“Oh—” I pull my head back, teasing her. “You don’t need it!”

She snatches it from me anyway, glaring at me playfully.

“She’s back now, you know?” I tell her, watching her close.

Daisy nods slowly. “And how do you feel about that?”

I kind of scowl over at her. “I feel fine.”

“Really?” she asks, eyebrows up.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Because you loved her,” she tells me, eyes unflinching.

“Loved.” I repeat back. Past tense.

“You must at least be happy?” She peers over at me, asking without asking.

“Sure, yeah—” I shrug. “She’s my friend, I’m glad to have her back.”

She nods once and moves into the next room.

Four big paintings on a green wall.

She folds her arms, staring at it. “Four Allegories of Love,” she tells me.

“What’s your favourite?”

“In here?” she clarifies. I nod once and then she points to one. “Happy Union. Obviously.”

“Weird.” I sniff. “I’d have thought you’d like this one.” I nod my chin at Scorn, then flick my eyes back over to her.

She does her best not to smile at me and it doesn’t matter because I’m still smiling at her either way.

“What about not in this room?” I ask her.

“Ever, you mean?” She arches her eyebrows and I nod.

“Hmmm.” She thinks to herself. “Springtime. Pierre Auguste Cot. Do you know it?”

I shake my head.

“It’s in The Met. It’s this young couple in a forest, on a swing—” She’s smiling as she thinks of it, makes me want to fly to New York and take it off the wall to give it to her. I would if it’d guarantee I’d get her back.

“They’re so in love.” She shrugs. “And, I don’t know — it’s such a simplistic depiction of a complicated thing.”

I frown a bit. “You think love is complicated?”

Her face falters. “We both know it is.”

I hold her eyes for a few seconds before I sigh, exasperated, walking through a few rooms because I’m tired of feeling stuck.

“Dais—” I start. “Everything that happened — I cocked up, I know I did. I didn’t even know I was in l—”

“We don’t need to talk about it.” She shakes her head quickly.

“Yes, we do—” I take a step towards her, my face all serious.

She keeps shaking her head. “I don’t want to—”

“I do.” I shrug.

“I have a boyfriend.”

I give her a tight smile. “I don’t care.”

“Christian!” She crosses her arms, face cross and stubborn, kind of stressed. “You’re ruining Art Day.”

I feel my own stupid face soften. I’ve ruined enough for her, I never want to ruin anything for her again.

“Sorry,” I tell her, following her into the next room.

“This one—” She stares up at it. “Is about five hundred years old.”

“Really?” I look at it. It’s like — fuck, I don’t know? — a satyr and a dead girl and a dog.

“I love this one,” she tells me.

“Me too,” I say, staring at her. She glances over at me and our eyes catch and my cheeks go hot so then I look quickly at the painting. “Same.” I nod coolly.

Tiller
9:49

Sorry I couldn’t take you.

A work thing came up.

What was it?

Something about some evidence.

Oh

That’s okay

I’ll take you after Christmas

Actually, I went anyway.

Did you

Good, I’m glad.

With who?

Christian took me

Christian?

Yes.

Your ex boyfriend?

Julian was going to take me but he had a meeting.

So Christian just swooped in?

He didn’t swoop— I was obviously sad

Much better.

He was just being friendly.

How friendly?

Tiller.

I’ll be home soon.

Okay, but don’t be weird.

I’m not being weird.