“You know, you could try being nice for once,” Daisy says as soon as Catherine is out of earshot.
“Why would I want to do that?”
There’s a teal silk-chiffon dress on the neighbouring rack. It has a sort of ethereal-mermaid quality, and again the cool tones would suit Daisy’s exsanguinous complexion. I locate the correct size and lift it from the rail.
“Well, for one, it’s nice to be nice,” she says, grinning from ear to ear, enjoying herself far too much.
I don’t smile back, just suck my teeth.
“And two, you might make a friend.”
“Again, no thank you. I already have one of those, and she’s rubbish. Costs me an absolute fortune,” I say.
Daisy’s still smiling despite the jab. “You used to have two friends. Remember how happy you were then?”
I fight the sudden urge to push her into the mannequins and run away like a playground bully. “For that transgression, Daisy May Bosley, I’m getting a milkshake for the ride home.” See how much she enjoys sitting in a toxic dust cloud for two hours.
“Oh, Lan, I take it back. Please don’t get dairy. I’m sorry.”
“Too late, my child. Too fucking late. I’m gonna have the white chocolate shake with extra, extra whipped cream topping.”
Daisy starts fake crying, pulling the attention of a different nearby sales assistant. She sobers when she sees my impassive face. “I can’t tell if you’re taking the piss or not.”
“I’m not,” I deadpan.
She puffs out a sigh. It could be a resigned sigh, or it could be an exhausted one.
Welcome to the world of being Orlando’s only friend.
“Fine, if I’m going to get gassed to death on the journey home, let’s just be real for one sec, okay?” She pauses and waits for me to nod. I don’t, so she continues anyway. “You really ought to talk to him.”
“N—”
“Before you say no . . .” Daisy takes the dress from my grasp and surreptitiously hands it to Catherine. “Serasi and I have been talking about moving in together.”
“Riiight. . .”
“But we’re not sure if that’ll be in Mudford or Cambridge.”
The ground spins under my feet, and my stomach pangs with a familiar prophetic ache. “What the fuck. You’re leaving me?” Suddenly it’s too warm inside Harvey Nicks. Did they turn the air con off?
“No, no, I’m not leaving you . . . Not yet, anyway. We don’t know what we want to do, Lan. It might not even be Cambridge. Serasi wants to get a job relevant to her studies, so it could be anywhere.”
“Okay, so she could work in Bath. Or Bristol. Big history departments in both those cities, and you could stay in Mudford.”
With me. You could stay with me.
Those words go unsaid, but I know Daisy hears them.
“What about the pub?” I say. I can’t breathe.
Desperation shines through in Daisy’s eyes. “Dad can handle the pub. He has Mathias now, andifI leave . . .” She puts a lot of emphasis on the word “if” for my benefit. “They can always hire a bar manager. It might not come to that, though. All I’m saying is, it could be a good idea, Lan, for you to broaden your friendship circle. Just in case.”
I don’t respond, can’t even process any of it. Not right now in front of judgy Miss Catherine and the other sales assistants. I grab another Chloé dress from the rails—a black-lace and chiffon floor-sweeping gown with a V neck so deep it’ll end somewhere around Daisy’s belly button.
Who’ll be my Barbie doll when she leaves?
“Let’s try these on,” I demand, heading towards the fitting rooms.
