“I’m in love with you too,” he’d shouted back and they’d just stared at each other, breathing heavily, silence ringing out around them as Daisy saw the life she could have with him. One where she felt heard, and loved, and safe.
“But I don’t think I would turn down a date or a holiday,” Daisy said now, squinting. “I think I—”
Zack’s phone pinged and he picked it up. “Someone’s offering a free padel slot,” he said, already typing his reply. “I’ve taken it. I can bring us back a curry or something?”
Daisy stared down at the roses, for now still tightly closed. She’d spent a couple of years working as a florist, and white flowers meant something, didn’t they? They meant innocence. Innocence and new beginnings.
At the bus stop the next day, Daisy continued her search for Dan. The longer it went on, the more she wondered if she should worry. She’d checked and CoryEscondido hadn’t posted any more photos. It wasn’t like she and Dan were in daily contact when he was home, but there was often memes and voice notes, occasional phone calls and side messages when their mum said something annoying in the group chat. She wanted to hear his voice and tell him about what happened on the bus. To hear him laugh as she told him about brandishing the book, because he’d definitely find it funny. He was a smiler, Dan. Saw the good in everything. It was impossible not to look at him with his dark brown curly hair and his big sparkling eyes and not feel happy. To not feel like, somehow, everything was going to be okay.
What was she doing, just waiting like this? She searchedfor his name on her phone and called him. It rang, which was hopefully a good sign. It meant that he was at least charging his phone. It was the international dial tone too. He was still, most likely, in America. Potentially still Escondido, which Daisy had discovered was famous for its beautiful beaches and wineries. She closed her eyes and tried to picture him there, laying back in the sun with a glass of red.
“Hi, you’ve reached Dan,” Dan’s warm yet mischievous voice greeted Daisy’s ears. “Firstly, lucky you. If you’ve got my number I mustreallylike you. Secondly, can you please hang up and send me a voice note like a normal person? Cheers.”
Daisy hung up and sent a message to his WhatsApp, Instagram, SMS and email.
I know you’re in Escondido. I am respecting your right for privacy, but Mum will not. If one of us doesn’t hear from you soon, she will be on the next flight out there and I won’t be able to stop her. I love you. I miss you. TELL ME YOU’RE OK.
Once she’d done that, she messaged her mum.
I called Dan’s phone and it rang. Fairly sure he’s on the coast of California.
She didn’t go into the details. She knew that if Dan wanted their mum to know, he’d have told her. For whatever reason, this trip he was doing was private, and Daisy respected that. If there was one thing she knew to respect in her family, it was privacy. Don’t speak to the neighbors. Don’t go into their parents’ bedroom if the door was closed. Don’t tell the teacher why you were late.
The N73 pulled up just as the feeling in Daisy’s hands was beginning to go from the cold and she climbed on, taking herusual seat, a scent of vinegar from someone’s late-night chips in the air. The bus had a subdued energy, passengers gazing out the window or headphones in, as Daisy scanned the entertainment news until she reached Angel. Some actress in her seventies had done a raunchy photo shoot which the tabloids were going wild for. There was some new angle, as always, on Michael Jackson’s life. She’d avoid that one. Kylie Jenner had announced a surprising use for her nipple cream (she put it on her lips) and a star from a US dating show had been canceled for promoting a weight-loss drug. What was this? She saw Annabelle Fletcher’s name and clicked on it.
Annabelle Fletcher has rallied a host of female actresses to go on strike until greater roles are written for women over 35. Over forty A-listers including megastars Gretchen Oliver and Beatrice Dowe have signed up to the campaign #StillGotIt led by Fletcher, stating they’ll step away from Hollywood until more diverse parts are created for them to play. In a statement Fletcher said, “Things have got to change. There is an absolute disrespect for women of a certain age in this industry, and we’re not taking it anymore.”
Daisy knew she had a clip from her interview with Annabelle that she could use when she got to the office, but she opened Instagram and clicked the message box above where Annabelle’s page boasted of 3.7 million followers and started typing.
Hi, Annabelle. I don’t know if you remember me from our interview at The Dorchester Hotel about Silent and Deadly (we spoke about our dads) but I would love to speak to you about #StillGotIt. If you could offer me an exclusive, I can broadcast it to our two hundred plus stations in the UK and overseas. This is an important campaign and it needs to be heard. Please call me.
Daisy added in her phone number and clicked Send before putting her phone away, just as the double doors of the bus opened and she looked up to see Tom stepping on.
He was wearing a light gray beanie, a gray jumper and dark brown leather jacket, and jeans. He was grinning before he even set eyes on her, but his face lit up further once he had. He raised his hand, signaled to the seat beside her and approached.
“What’s happening with your face?” Daisy asked, happy to see him.
“This old thing?” He pointed upward, the smile remaining. “You didn’t see my latest post?”
Daisy had gone straight to Annabelle’s page without looking at her feed and immediately pulled her phone out of her pocket.
“No?” she said, a flush of adrenaline racing through her body as she saw an email alert from Dan.
I’m ok. Please tell Mum. I love you and miss you too. More when I can. Xx
Daisy stared at the words. She knew it. Or she’d sensed it, but God it was reassuring to hear from him. She pushed away the immediate intrusive thoughts: that perhaps he had been kidnapped and this was someone pretending to be him. Did he always do two kisses? Did it sound like him? It was hard to tell in three short sentences.
Tom was looking across at her. “You okay?”
“My brother’s sort of been missing and he just emailed me.”
He leaned back. “What do you mean, missing? Is he alright?”
A man in a black baseball cap rang the bell and moved toward the double doors, waiting to jump off.
“He says so,” Daisy replied, and perhaps it was the shock, or the concern that had replaced the smile on Tom’s face, but she handed him her phone. He pulled at his lip as he read it.
“Does that definitely sound like him?” he asked, and Daisy’s chest expanded, because clearly he’d had the same suspicions.
