“It’s hard to tell.”
“Could you reply and ask him to prove it’s him, somehow?”
“Yes, but it could still be the kidnapper who replies,” she said before covering her mouth. She didn’t want to show him the extent of her concerns, in case it wasn’t what he meant. In case he laughed at her, which would be understandable.
“That’s true,” he said, his forehead creasing. “Ask for a selfie?”
“You don’t think it’s silly for me to suspect a kidnapper has his phone and is emailing me, pretending to be him?”
Tom shook his head. “I know you a little bit by now, Daisy. You don’t ever seem to jump to conclusions. You actually seem very measured and thoughtful. So if you’re telling me now that your brother has been missing and there’s even the tiniest chance he might have been kidnapped, I believe you.”
God. Tears shot to her eyes out of nowhere and Daisy turned away, blinking to get rid of them. What would he think of her if he knew that what he’d just said had made her cry? Except she knew the answer to that too. He seemed to accept any reaction she gave to anything, without thinking less of her.
“King’s Cross Station,”the bus announced, and the woman sitting in front of them rang the bell.
“Sorry, anyway, I’ll deal with that later. Instagram, you said,” she muttered toward the window, opening the app.
It appeared top of her feed as the bus pulled in at King’s Cross and a few people stepped off, a blast of cold air hitting her face as they left. Did top of her feed make it obvious Daisy had regularly been checking Tom’s page? It was only for signs that Sophie was changing her mind.
“Oh wow,” Daisy said, laughing as she took in the photos. “What in all that is holy is a laughter retreat?”
The grin was back on Tom’s face.
“I took a photo of a guy who’d done one and I thought... if I’m going to have to do something on my own, I’d rather be happy about it. So that’s what I did.”
“And?”
“Well, it’s true. It turns out it’s impossible to feel sad when you’re laughing. Smiling, even. I feel like a new man. My best mate, Ralph, has stopped calling me the walking gray cloud, which made it all worth it.”
Daisy ran her eyes over Tom’s face. She wasn’t sure she could ever have called him that. He was often deep in thought, or earnest, or focused, but he didn’t ever seem consumed by sadness.
“That doesn’t sound like a nickname you deserve.”
“Believe me, it is. I think I just save it all for him.”
Daisy clicked on the comments beneath the photo.
“Sophie commented!” Her voice was shrill and Tom laughed.
“She sure did.”
“Quite a clever comment, actually,” Daisy said, piecing together the tiny scraps of information she had about Sophie to form an image of her. “To say ‘hilarious.’ Because your face in some of these photos is hilarious, but also you’rebeinghilarious as part of the retreat.”
Tom nodded, pride washing across his face. “She’s pretty smart.”
“I think I know what we need to do next.” Daisy clapped her hands together, surprised by her own enthusiasm. “I think we need to do a makeover. It’s like Sophie’s sensing a change in you and we need to act on it.”
“But what aboutOrlando?”
“It’s in there,” she said, pulling out the book, reading aloud. “Okay. ‘Vain trifles as they seem, clothes have, they say, more important offices than to merely keep us warm. They change our view of the world, and the world’s view of us.’ I was thinking,if it wasn’t too much, you could even post that quote alongside you in a whole new outfit.”
Tom looked down at himself as though he were seeing his outfit for the first time. “You don’t think she liked my clothes?” he asked and his tone was matter of fact rather than hurt.
“I’m sure she loved them,” Daisy rushed to say. “It’s more about you giving her the sense you’re moving on.”
He nodded. “Okay. I think I like it.”
“I can come? Wednesday afternoon after I finish work?”
