The Life Daisy Devlin Designed

CHAPTER 35

Daisy was still thinking about Freya’s request when she got to the office after lunch. Her initial impression of Freya was of someone who didn’t let anything get to her, and who knew exactly what she wanted. That hadn’t exactly changed, but Daisy was starting to see a hint of vulnerability.

She wasn’t sure what had been wrong with Holly but, whatever it was, she seemed to have made a speedy recovery. Still, Rosie claimed that kids got sick quickly and got better just as fast. Daisy wished the same rule applied to adults.

Now she sank gratefully into her chair and took a deep breath.

“ Um , did someone light a scented candle?”

“Do you like it?” Fionn beamed.

Laura rolled her eyes. “Wait for it.”

Daisy tried to identify the smell. “It’s different, what is it?”

“An air diffuser with frankincense oil. It’s for creativity and focus.”

“And handy if we stumble upon any Wise Men,” Laura muttered.

“I’ve never smelt frankincense before.” Daisy got up and walked over to the small side table where Fionn had placed the diffuser in the middle of a small white plate, with three colourful crystals.

“Never?” Laura looked at her in mock-horror. “How is that even possible?”

Daisy grinned. “I’m assuming the crystals are meaningful, Fionn. They’re kind of giving off Irish-flag vibes.”

He sat up straighter. “So, there’s a moonstone for me, a citrine for Laura, because she’s a Scorpio – that’s the gold one – and an emerald for you.”

“Emerald?” Daisy wrinkled her nose. “That’s pretty traditional.”

Fionn shrugged. “There’s really only one birthstone for Taurus. They’re kind of an awkward sign.”

“ Wow , thanks. Any messages, by the way?”

“ Uh , nope.”

Hopefully, Kenny had got things sorted. And once Freya’s job was finished, she’d be able to focus completely on finishing Granary House. Ideally, she’d love to have one or two extra projects lined up, but after an initial upsurge of business after the pandemic, things had slowed considerably in the last couple of years.

“How are things with you, Fionn?”

He swept his fringe carefully out of his eyes. “Work-wise, it’s all cool. I’m able to stay late in college, which is a total save, because I can’t get anything done at my house.”

“Things still that bad?”

He sighed. “The two people who were supposed to stay a couple of days? They bought themselves a double airbed! I don’t think they’re ever going to leave.”

“What if the landlord finds out?”

“Who’s going to tell him? Anyway, they’ve nowhere else to go.” He shrugged. “How’s James?”

Daisy opened Freya’s long snag list on her iPad. “Oh, still sick.” She looked back up. “I keep thinking I’m going to get strep as well, but it hasn’t happened. Which is great, obviously, but a bit, you know ... strange.”

“Well, yeah.” Fionn looked thoughtful. “Although I didn’t get it when my sister did. Nobody in our house did. She got it from her boyfriend. Mam was ready to kill her.”

“Her boyfriend?” Daisy echoed.

Fionn’s eyes widened, as he seemed to realise what Daisy was thinking. “But, like, there’s probably loads of ways you can catch it. It doesn’t just have to be through –”

“Oh God, yeah, I know.” Daisy laughed weakly. If James had snogged Alma, it would be karma. Would things be clearer if she knew for sure? It’d definitely be a sign. Although there was so much else going on, it was easier not to know. She put her head in her hands. Daisy Devlin: self-confessed ostrich.

Daisy rang Rosie as soon as she got home.

“What’s wrong?” Rosie asked immediately.

Why did her sister always think the worst? Daisy counted to five. When that didn’t work, she counted to ten.

“Daisy, are you still there?”

“Sorry, the line dropped for a moment. Er , nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to ask if you know any occupational therapists here in Dublin? Or even near Dublin?”

There was a silence. “Why?” Rosie said, finally.

“A friend of mine asked me to ask you,” Daisy said. “Well, not a friend, she’s actually a client. She wants to go private and doesn’t want to have to wait – well, actually, I think she’s enquiring for someone else but I don’t know who. She’s very – eh – private.”

“Whoever it is needs a referral from a doctor.” Rosie sounded brisk. “Would it be for an older person, do you think?”

“No idea. But normally it would be, right?”

“Not necessarily. It could be a young person who’s been in an accident, although in that case they’d be assessed in hospital.” Rosie paused. “But it could be a child. Lots of kids are referred to OTs for diagnoses.”

“Diagnoses?”

“A good OT can diagnose everything from developmental delays to dyslexia to autism.”

It was Holly , Daisy thought, with a flash of insight. It was probably why Freya always seemed so worried about her, why she seemed to miss so much school.

And why Freya wanted her in her own room, close to her and Neil. She’d bet it was why the couple had been through so many childminders.

“Yeah, it might be a child,” she said.

“Then she’d need a paediatric OT.”

Like Rosie, Daisy thought. Except Rosie lived on the far side of the country, and was currently on career leave.

“How’s work going on Granary House?”

Daisy was a bit surprised. Rosie never remembered specific details about her work. Although her sister was probably less interested in the house than its owner.

“ Um , fine. We’re having to do the house and gardens pretty quickly because the grounds are going to be used all summer.”

“What’s it like having Kayley Lynch around?” Rosie said. “Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t be mad about her music, but you’d feel a bit sorry for her. Nothing would pay you for the abuse she’s getting online.”

“I suppose so.” Daisy was about to add that Kayley was a pain in the arse, but stopped herself in time. Rosie was right: nobody deserved it.

“Anyway, I’m glad you’re nearly finished,” Rosie was saying. “The longer you hang around Matt, the more danger you’re putting yourself in.”

Technically, that boat hadn’t set sail, Daisy mused. But it was definitely pulling out of the harbour. “How are plans coming along for Mum and Dad’s anniversary party?” she asked.

“Oh, class. I listened to three bands, and I’ve picked the best one. They’ll play all the stuff Mum and Dad like.”

Daisy half-listened as Rosie went into detail about her music choices.

“Cáit Furey’s younger brother is the lead guitarist,” she said. “So they gave us a good rate.”

Daisy was trying to remember who Cáit Furey was, when Rosie asked about James.

“He’s sick at the moment.” Daisy wondered how much detail to give, but then decided to be honest. As a mother of four, Rosie fancied herself a font of all knowledge about illnesses, and Daisy figured she might have a few tips. “It’s strep – he just got an antibiotic for it.”

“Strep?” Rosie sounded a bit surprised. “Have you had it too? You’d better be careful not to catch it, Daisy, it’s really contagious.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So, how did he get it?” Rosie sounded thoughtful. “Who was I talking to recently, who said they had it?”

God, she shouldn’t have said a word. “No idea. How are the kids?”

“Happy out.” Rosie paused. “Although I might just ask the doctor about Ben when we’re there next. He does seem to throw up a lot. I think he might be allergic to something.”

Food, Daisy thought. The boy was allergic to food: too much of it. But if her sister didn’t hear it from an expert, or better still, figure it out for herself, she’d dismiss the idea immediately.

“By the way, Mum’s been trying to sell that painting of hers.” Rosie sounded grim.

Daisy thought for a moment. “The nude? Can you not persuade her to hang it in her bedroom, or something?”

“You think I haven’t tried?” Rosie huffed. “The worst thing is that Dad’s told her it’s the best painting she’s ever done.”

“ Shit! I mean, I suppose it probably is. Like, objectively.”

“Daisy!”

“Sorry! Where’s she trying to sell it?”

“The open-air market in Galway, you know the one. She took a stall!”

“You don’t think they’re a bit short of money, do you?” Daisy said. “Maybe they’re starting to realise how much this party is going to cost, and this is Mum’s way of helping out.”

“If it’s true, it’s her own fault.” Rosie sniffed. “Séan has offered to do her accounts so many times, and Mum keeps turning him down and telling him she’s quite capable of doing a few tax returns.”

“Maybe I could have a word?” Daisy offered.

“That’s a great idea,” Rosie said, quickly. “She might actually listen to you. And I’ve enough going on without having to deal with this! Listen, I’ve got to go. Don’t forget to ask whether it’s a paediatric OT your friend is looking for.”

“Thanks, Rosie.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it, just talk to Mum. I’m going now. Bye.” Rosie hung up.

Daisy tried to imagine her mother at the weekend markets in Church Lane, trying to sell her life-sized, nude self-portrait. She supposed she should be grateful she was living in Dublin.