I take a deep breath and feel the relief wash over me. At least we’re dealing with it. Dealing with however she’s feeling about it – I don’t want to sway her either way. She’s unwell, but it’s nothing life-threatening or dangerous.
‘I’m going to have the baby,’ she says with determination, her eyes lighting up for the first time in weeks. ‘I know it’ll be hard,being a single parent, but I’m ready for this, even if it means raising the baby alone.’
I get the fear. She’s carrying the child of a man who’s not around, who can’t be found, so I hug her tightly and promise her she’ll never truly be alone. This little one is going to be showered with so much love… Kayla is going to be a mother! And a brilliant one at that. She knows the pain of not having a supportive family around, so this child will be everything to her – and to me too. This is really the best, most wonderful, most life-changing news!
We spend the rest of the evening laughing and crying, the future spreading out ahead of us like a beautiful, untamed landscape. We sip ginger tea as we discuss baby names, nursery themes and parenting books, and I ask Kayla when she knew she was ready to face parenting alone. Her answer comes in the form of a story so poignant that it moves us both to tears. She tells me of a dream she had, where she was cradling her baby in her arms, feeling something more profound and fulfilling than anything she’s known before. This dream solidified her conviction that she could face the challenge.
In the days that follow, Kayla moves out of her house-share and into my flat with me so she’s got support and comfort. We spend hours poring over pregnancy websites and blogs, taking notes and sharing what we’ve learned. Together, we visit doctors and scan shelves of prenatal vitamins. We face each challenge, figuring it all out together. It’s clear that we’re navigating this new adventure as a team.
At night-time, I often look over at Kayla reading the stack of parenting books that continue to grow by her side of the bed. On the outside, she appears ready, soaking in all the advice and guidance she can. But I can’t help but notice the shadows of doubt flicker across her face every so often. As I turn offthe light and lie in the darkness, my heart swells with love and respect for my best friend. She’s a warrior preparing for battle. I witness her strength and dedication as she so bravely faces this significant life change, and I vow to walk beside her. Her steadfast determination inspires me.
We press onwards, hand in hand, embracing the thrilling unknown that awaits us. Happiness intertwines with fear, laughter mingles with tears, but we march on, fuelled by courage and powered by love. And in this unpredictability and chaos, I know that the bond we share will carry us through, no matter where life takes us.
CHAPTER 39
THE MEETING
Stay cool, I tell myself as I step into the bustling atmosphere of the super-smart restaurant in London’s West End. The mirrored walls make the whole place seem glittering and boundless, adding to the enigmatic aura that entangles the room. The air is filled with the clink of expensive silverware against delicate china, a soft musical hum complementing tasteful murmurs of clever conversations. Chandeliers of sparkling diamonds hang solemnly from the ceiling, casting a warm glow upon Lenka and I as we slide smoothly into a corner booth of buttery soft leather and tufted velvet.
We sit in silence for a moment. I cross my fingers under the table, as if the simple action might suffice to offer some comfort, any solace at all. Even though Lenka invited me to meet her here, she’s too erratic for me to feel at ease. Anything could happen.
Lenka clears her throat, taking my attention from my fingers to her glowing face. She’s suddenly wearing that knowing smile of someone about to reveal a secret.
‘So, let me tell you something,’ she begins, her cheeks flushed with excitement. ‘Your illustrations were total Marmite – completely divided the team. And that’s exactly what we wanted! A unanimous no is bad, but a unanimous yes means mediocrity.Nothing truly extraordinary is loved by everyone, so the fact your work splits us right down the middle is ideal! In the end, we went to Matilda Wilder herself to decide.’
My illustrations have a bold and expressive style, so I get why they may not be for everyone, but unlike last time when Lenka and I met, I know these are good. I know they’re my best work – I’m proud of them, and I’m going to stick by them, whichever way the needle falls.
I bite my lip, waiting for the verdict. My heart pounds so hard it threatens to escape my chest like a frantic, captive bird. Matilda Wilder is the author ofForest Fables, her words the very lifeblood that gives character to the pages I so carefully crafted. To have her approval, or, better yet, her appreciation, would mean everything.
Lenka leans forward, her eyes twinkling with joy. ‘She picked yours, Daisy. Congrats.’
In that moment, time seems to freeze, crystallising into a memory that can’t be tarnished. In a completely surreal, absurdly improbable, un-Lenka-style move, she pulls me into an embrace… Lenka is hugging me. As I feel her arms around me, my entire body fills with both fear and elation, but I accept the congratulations, clinking our glasses in celebration, and I marvel at how wonderful this moment feels.
Matilda Wilder, the greatest living children’s author of our time, has chosen my illustrations. It’s a dream come true.
Suddenly, a carefully wrapped package slides across the table towards me, the anticipation in Lenka’s eyes almost as tangible as the weight of the small present. My fingers tremble as I pull away tissue paper, revealing a signed first edition from Matilda herself. Through my tears, I read the simple yet profound words inked on the page: ‘Thank you, Daisy.’
I’m so grateful for this achievement, but I also know that it was Innisfree, and the creative passion and self-belief I feltthere, that really gave me this success. Without that spark of inspiration, I wouldn’t be here today.
A soft breeze tickles the air as I step out of the restaurant, feeling as if my entire world has shifted. The busy London streets are alive with swirling colours and vibrant energy, and I walk with true purpose, carrying the treasured Matilda Wilder book tucked under my arm. Goosebumps crawl up my arms as the reality of the contract and the book’s significance wash over me.
As I make my way home, I feel a tug towards The Fox. It’s a stark contrast to the posh restaurant I just left, but I know it’s the perfect place to truly celebrate. I want to share this with Big Sean.
The doors to The Fox open with a creak. The air is thick with the familiar scent of hops and the raucous chorus of laughter and music that accompanies any good Irish pub day or night. Big Sean and I exchange a heartfelt hug before settling into the cosy, worn leather seats. We’re soon sharing a pot of tea together, reminiscing about old times and catching up on everything that’s happened since I left for Innisfree.
Big Sean gazes into his cup for a moment and then turns his misty eyes to me. ‘Daisy,’ he begins, his thick Irish brogue softened by emotion, ‘I’m so glad you’ve found happiness again, but I have to ask – did you ever find out why your mum never returned?’
Silence descends as I consider the question. It’s a mystery that’s haunting me still, but after everything, perhaps I’ll never know the full answer. My heart aches with the knowledge that there’s still a void where my mother’s reasons should be as I explain all this to Big Sean.
‘Some closure is better than nothing, Daisy,’ he tells me. ‘You can lay your mother’s past to rest now. And your father’s.’
It’s true. But I still feel so restless.
Just then a thought occurs to me, offering a glimmer of hope. There’s still a way to find out the truth.
When I’m back home, I glance around the flat, taking it all in. The realisation that I can go back to Innisfree, that I can keep the house and make a home there, fills me with immense happiness. The thought of Kayla staying in my flat here, enjoying the peace and quiet that I know she needs, brings a warm smile to my face.
Still, a voice in the back of my mind whispers to me, reminding me of the uncertainty waiting for me in Innisfree. James… I don’t know how things will be without him there. But as I think more about it, I realise that there’s still so much left to discover. Big Sean is right: some closure is better than none, but still, I’m desperate for answers. I try to imagine what could have pushed my mother to leave Innisfree – the idyllic setting, the kind faces, Mick’s love – but I come up empty.
