“Me too,” Daisy said.
“Not me,” Martha shouted, jumping again, loudly, off the chair and onto the floor. She was getting bored.
Tom took the outfit off and scanned the items Martha had chosen, reappearing in bright orange trousers, a green T-shirt and an olive-green corduroy jacket.
When he stepped back out, Martha squealed in delight, clapping her hands together as he knew she would.
“What do you think, Mar?” he asked, holding his arms out and spinning for her. Daisy had broken into a grin, before holding a hand to her mouth. Her signature move, he’d noticed, for when she was either trying to stop herself from saying something, or when she was delighted. This might have been both.
“You look like a carrot,” she said, unable to hold the words in.
Martha roared with laughter. “Or anorange,” she shouted as the two of them fell about laughing all over again.
Tom nodded solemnly. “That was exactly the look I was going for.”
Martha surveyed him, squinting her eyes. “Can I ask one teeny, tiny question,” she said, holding a finger up in the air as though he were her teacher.
“Of course.” Tom steeled himself. It could be anything at all.
“Why are you doing this?”
“To—” he started to say as Daisy spoke over the top of him.
“He wants Sophie to love him again,” she said as Tom swung his head to stare at her. She had no idea that Tom wouldn’t want Martha to share that with her mum. That now his excitement at all of this getting back to Sophie would be thwarted by Martha having extra intel on the situation.
Martha frowned, standing up on the arm of the chair once more, holding her arms out for balance. “Shouldn’t Sophie just love you in your normal clothes?” she asked, before leaping off, the thud echoing around the room.
Tom looked down at his orange trousers and back up to find Daisy watching him. She signaled toward Martha, who was lying on her back singing on the carpet, and shook her head. “She’s scary smart,” she mouthed. Tom nodded.
“You’re right,” Daisy said. “You’re absolutely right, Martha. Peopleshouldlove other people for who they are. Let’s get out of here.” She took Martha’s hand, pulling her up and she shot off toward the door. Daisy moved in Tom’s direction, leaning close to his ear, her breath hot against him. “But buy that navy ensemble, just in case,” she whispered, the hairs on his neck standing on end. “It suited you. A lot.”
Tom watched Daisy as she walked away to join Martha, a slight heat to his cheeks, before he dived back into the dressing room to get dressed, and grab everything Daisy had approved of.
Daisy told Tom she wouldn’t be able to stay for ice cream, but Daisy clearly hadn’t met anyone as convincing as Martha before. In unheard move after unheard move, Martha begged Daisy to stay, even offering to share her ice creamandsprinkles, which was an offer Tom had never received.
“I just... I need to get back before... Zack’s expecting...”Martha stood in front of her, eyes squeezed shut and hands pressed together in silent prayer. Daisy glanced at her watch. Her expression was similar to the one she pulled when the bald man approached her with his beer. That is to say, Tom realized, she looked scared. “A quick one then,” she said, replacing the expression with a fixed smile so quickly that he wondered how often she was used to doing it. And why.
“You really don’t have to stay,” Tom said, as Martha ran ahead to find a seat in the café. “Kids are allowed to be disappointed sometimes. Do you remember being disappointed as a child?”
A wave of something washed across her face and, as he often found himself doing with Daisy, Tom wished he had his camera. Not necessarily to capture that moment from an artistic point of view, but so he could analyze it later. Just as before, a smile replaced it within seconds.
“I do, which is why I refuse to be the person she links that feeling to. You’ve seenInside Out, right? Me refusing ice cream could be a core memory for her.”
Tom stared across at her, taken aback by her protection of Martha. By her clear intentions to ignore whatever it was she was afraid of in order not to upset her. Tom knew he did that with Martha, but she was his sister. Half his flesh and blood. That was a bit different.
“And I know what I said to Martha, but you still need to take a selfie of yourself in that outfit when you get home and post it. I’m hoping for a hat trick of comments from Sophie,” Daisy said, shaking Tom out of his analysis of her and back to the reason he was now weighed down by a John Lewis bag.
“Absolutely,” he nodded.
“Don’t do all the buttons up,” she added.
“Absolutely not,” he replied, smiling. “Yes, boss.”
“I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I have a feeling the plan is working,” she said, waving to Martha who’d found atable and was beckoning Daisy, and just Daisy, over to sit with her. Tom wasn’t used to this.
“I sort of do too. But I thought maybe it was just me.”
“Not just you,” she said, her eyes kind, before she left to sit with Daisy. “Belgian chocolate please. With a flake,” she shouted back at him, the same forced smile on her face.
