Joe flashes Vince a look I don’t understand. A warning. A full stop at the end of a sentence. His father jumps in. ‘The right thing is a sticky toffee pudding. I can’t think of anything that would make me more fulfilled. Daisy and I have been discussing happiness over the last few months. Are you happy, Joe?’ Vince asks.
‘Well, I’m not totally crushed by a one-star review, put it that way.’
‘I’ve become more resilient these days.’
‘Doubtful.’ He turns to me. ‘“Horsey look with discontent built in …”’
‘What?’
‘Crossword clue I couldn’t get this morning.’
Vince touches my arm. ‘I tried paddle-boarding yoga. For my POP chart.’
‘Really?’ I fail to cover my astonishment.
‘I gave it a five for pleasure. And a two for progress. I can’t wait to have a go on the water.’
‘It’s hardly a win if you haven’t taken it out of its box yet.’ Joe shakes his head.
‘Everything counts,’ I say. ‘You don’t need to be outdoors for the endorphins to flow.’
‘It’s progress,’ says Vince firmly, reaching out and taking my hand in his. ‘Daisy is trying to convert me from the pursuit of pleasure but what she doesn’t realise is how much pleasure she brings to me in our sessions.’ While I don’t want to snatch my hand away from my number one client, allowing it to remain there feels like a tiny act of betrayal and Joe looks like he might vomit.
Then he grins and steps into the brag-fest. ‘Daisy makes me happy every morning. And she brightens the lives of everyone else. Her smile spreads down the queue and cheers people up, even the confirmed office zombies. Even Tea with no Milk or Manners stops to chat with her these days.’ Floored and flattered by his words, I snatch my hand away from his dad.
‘Joe creates smiles,’ I tell Vince. ‘Literally. He gives people a happy face in their froth.’
‘A smiley face is easy. The four-leaf clover was a more difficult proposition.’
‘Long face!’ I cry out, gesticulating in the air as I work out the answer to his crossword clue.
Dessert passes with polite small talk and no further drama and when we leave Vince insists on paying, something I feel totally comfortable with while Joe resists. ‘You can sort out the tip if you insist,’ Vince says, and I think his son regrets it when he sets eyes on the bill. When Vince asks me if I can slot in an extra session this week, I agree and suggest tomorrow. The meal might have been paid for tonight, but I need the cash.
Joe offers to drive me home. As the two men say goodbye, I decide on some emergency action. Grabbing an unfolded swan from opposite Vince I scribble a few words on the napkin. I fail to reassemble it into a bird but the message is clear. I press it into his hands and tell him I’ve set homework, leaving before he has a chance to digest it.
In the van, I pick up today’s crossword. ‘Still working on it?’
‘I can’t go to sleep tonight until it’s done.’
‘Why not?’
‘We all have our rituals, Daisy.’
‘Fair enough. Ten down, “lonely child”.’
‘Orphan. What I wouldn’t give to be one of those.’ He smiles. Then, ‘It must be a nightmare trying to make my father happy when the only thing that pleases him is pleasing himself.’
‘Pleasing yourself can be harder than you think for some people. There’s a reason he hired me. What makes you happy, Joe?’ The question pops out before I think about it.
His answer comes immediately. ‘Being with you.’
I look down at my hands and can’t stop smiling as he starts the engine and pulls away from the kerb, wondering if I’m imagining his fingers brushing my leg each time he changes gear.
By the time he parks up outside my house, there’s only one part of the puzzle left. ‘“God of Love, son of Aphrodite”.’ I read it out loud. ‘Four letters ending in “s”. We had to colour the Greek gods in when I was a primary school. I only remember Zeus.’
‘He’s the daddy of the gods and it doesn’t work with “orphan”. God of Love remember?’ His eyes burn into me, and I think of Vince’s description of his baby boy’s haint-blue hues. Beyond the window, a streetlight flickers. The electricity between us could be enough to blow it as he reaches out and strokes my hair, pushing a strand behind my ear. It tickles, not the harsh action of our sofa fun, but a caress. The kiss that follows is feather-light and brings butterflies back to my stomach. Then his hand is on my neck, holding it firmly as he takes his time to explore my mouth with his tongue.
His fingers curve over my shoulders and pull me to him before they find their way towards the valley between my breasts. I stifle a gasp. There are reasons for us not to escalate this. He’s a friend. I’m working for his dad. I’m the orphan in the crossword that people don’t get. And then there was that honest comment from the cereal box with a grudge at Halloween.
