“I’m not sure who gets to make the rules about when wishes can be made.” His voice was little more than a murmur and she had to lean closer to hear him.
Daisy reached up onto her head, pulling the hat off and handing it to Tom, pressing it into his hands as he wrapped his fingers around hers, holding on.
“Thanks for this,” she said, her voice thick as she squeezed her eyes closed and opened them again, trying to refresh the moment. Trying to still the pounding in her chest. “I better go in and check all the celebrities are still alive and well.”
She pulled her hands away and held them together, heat pulsing through them.
“I guess I better try to get some sleep,” Tom said, pushing the hat into his pocket. “And thanks for this,” he said, nodding upward. “I’ve never been more grateful for insomnia.”
She wanted to stay right there in the moment with him, and she knew that was a thought she shouldn’t be having about him. About her friend.
“See you tonight,” Daisy said, forcing herself to turn away despite the pull she felt toward him.
“See you tonight,” Tom replied. “Looking forward to an evening with my fake girlfriend,” he called after her, her heart burning at the words. More specifically, at the wordfake. Daisy breathed in the cool air, allowing it to scorch her throat, punishing herself for a fleeting thought she shouldn’t be having. Then she turned and smiled.
“Your fake girlfriend will see you later,” she said, and she stepped out into the empty road, crossing over, feeling Tom’s eyes on her until she turned up the street toward the office.
“You’re out at something with Clara tonight, right?” Zack asked as their paths crossed briefly when he returned home from work to collect his gear for padel, and Daisy’s stomach sank.
It hadn’t been a lie at the time. Daisy and Clara had intended to go together, prior to their fallout. A fallout she couldn’t tell Zack about without upsetting the very foundations of their relationship. Yet another thing she was keeping from him. The fact Clara wasn’t going was enough to make Daisy nauseous. Maybe in getting so defensive about her relationship with Zack she’d pushed away her greatest supporter. And now, not only was Daisy pretending to be someone else’s girlfriend without Zack knowing anything about their friendship, but this morning something had shifted. Something that made every thought of Tom turn solid in her stomach, and made her lie, for the first time, feel like a true betrayal. One she was struggling to forgive herself for.
Struggling, and yet she was desperate for Zack to leave so she could concentrate on getting ready.
“Wish me luck. I’m playing with that arsehole Postie Paul tonight, who shouts ‘mine’ for every shot. I literally have to jump in front of him and steal his returns,” Zack said from the doorway.
“I thought it was a team sport?” Daisy frowned, already backing away toward the bedroom.
“Hey,” Zack said, tapping his lips with his index finger, so Daisy had to walk back to him, leaning forward to kiss him. “Be good tonight,” he said. “And save some energy for me. If I get a win, I might want to celebrate.” Winking, he opened the front door and walked off toward the bus stop, leaving it open behind him.
Daisy closed it and ran to the bedroom, showering and pulling on the skintight tie-dye dress she’d ordered to work and smuggled home the previous day. She added a black blazer and paired it with black boots and red lipstick. Even she had to double take her own reflection, but it was her first-ever private viewing and she needed to look like a potential love interestfor Tom. She wasn’t so sure the 4:00 a.m. version of her would make someone like Sophie jealous. Or the version of Sophie that Daisy had made up in her head, which was the only one she knew. She’d taken a change of outfit in her bag, so she could return to the minimal effort Zack would expect from her before she got home.
Daisy ducked under an arch off Tottenham Court Road and down the familiar side street, lit up by small lanterns. It always felt like a different world when she arrived for work and it felt the same, now, at night. A hidden quiet part of London, sitting just off one of its busiest streets.
When she reached the gallery, the door opened as she approached, the sound of laughter and chatter spilling out onto the pavement. As she stepped inside, someone immediately appeared by her side, reaching for her coat as he held a tray of champagne.
“Thanks,” Daisy said, taking a glass. “I hope you get one at the end of all this.” She scanned the room, looking immediately for Tom. She should go straight to the photos. Show an interest in his work before she showed an interest in him, but she just needed her eyes on him for a moment first. Turning, slowly, she finally caught sight of him in the far corner, deep in conversation with two men. He looked so at ease, dressed in the outfit she’d picked out for him, with his hands in his pockets as he leaned back on the heels of his shoes, laughing lightly. It was the first time she’d seen him like that, she realized. Out in the world, without her. Every other time she’d seen him he’d been walking toward her on the bus, or meeting her outside a school hall, or turning up on her doorstep with his portfolio of photos—he’d been in her world. Now, she was in his. She watched for a moment, seeing him through a different lens. Wondering who he was to other people. If he was the same person to them as he was to her.
“Daisy!” came a voice and a little body came chargingthrough the center of the exhibition, propelling themselves onto her legs.
Daisy looked down, her face lighting up. She hadn’t thought for a second that a six-year-old might be present at such a fancy event, but of course Tom wouldn’t do this without her.
“Martha,” Daisy said, bending down to wrap an arm around her as Martha squeezed as tight as possible to Daisy’s knees. “How is my favorite monkey in the world?”
“Good,” she shouted, reaching for her hand. “Come and see the pictures,” she said, pulling her in the direction of a smaller room.
Martha took her immediately to the photo of herself, obviously. If there was anything a six-year-old was interested in, that was it.
“It’sme,” she said, as though it weren’t obvious.
“So it is,” Daisy replied. “And what a beautiful photo.”
She stood back, holding onto Martha’s hand as she took it in. There was canned laughter playing in the background and the combination of that with Tom’s photos brought everything to life. The one of Martha was giant and took up most of one wall. She was on her knees in her pajamas, her back arched and her head thrown back, eyes half closed and pigtails bouncing as she laughed. There was a light above her so it looked like she was under a spotlight, a shadow falling across the ground beneath her.“Just a Star”it said on the label beneath, a red sticker beside it.
“Mummy and Daddy bought it,” she said.
“I bet they did,” Daisy said. Who wouldn’t buy that photo of such a magnificent moment captured of their daughter?
Turning, Daisy took in the other photos in the room. She saw a few people standing in front of one of a homeless man, resting against the fountain in Trafalgar Square. He was staring up to the sky, his face displaying pure ecstasy. It was...
