‘Today was just one of those things that sometimes happens when something important is over, Daisy. Revisiting the might-have-beens. The very-nearlys. But we can never go back.’
Her words were telling him that waiting was not an option, that she had made her decision, that today had meant nothing. But her eyes, begging him to understand, to forgive her for putting Daisy first, were saying something else and, as if she knew that they betrayed her, she closed them, turned away, drew Daisy close as if she were a child.
‘You’re more important to me than anyone in the world, Daisy Porter. No one can ever come between us. You have to believe that.’
There were tears in her eyes as she said it, but Daisy, sobbing out her own grief, for a man she’d never known, who’d never loved her, who’d robbed them both of the life they should have had, didn’t see them.
Life had a way of calling you on bad decisions, Ivo knew. He hadn’t walked away three years ago, hadn’t had Belle’s heart, her capacity for sacrifice. This time, though, things were different. Belle had taught him the power of love, its enduring nature.
She needed this time alone with her sister and he was strong enough to give her the space she needed, for as long as she needed.
‘For as long as we both shall live.’
He repeated the words from the marriage service under his breath, the difference being that this time he understood what they meant. And, more importantly, he believed them.
‘You should have an early night,’ Belle said.
Daisy had her feet up on the sofa she’d chosen-fuchsia-pink velvet, not as practical, but a lot more exciting than the brown suede she’d picked out-watching television.
‘An early night?’ She’d got over her tears, had a bath and a slice of pizza, which was all she seemed to want to eat. ‘I’m not a kid.’
Then stop acting like one, she wanted to yell at her. Grow up. I had to. Ivo had to…
She held it in. This was her fault. If she’d been there, if she’d fought with the social workers for access, visiting rights, maybe it would have all worked out.
If she hadn’t lost all sense today, hadn’t been thinking solely of herself, then maybe, gradually, she could have slowly built on this brand-new fledgling relationship with Ivo.
Instead Daisy, selfish, needy, desperate, had forced her to choose between her sister and her marriage. She didn’t know that she’d already chosen Daisy when she’d left Ivo.
For a moment she’d believed that he could be a part of their lives. But he understood the problems, the sacrifice involved in taking care of someone who had been emotionally damaged, broken by circumstance.
There had been no need for words. He’d made it easy for her, making it clear, when he’d dropped them back at the flat that he wouldn’t be around for a while. Offering some excuse about pressure of business…
She dragged her mind back to her life, said, ‘I didn’t say you were a kid, but it’s my last day on the breakfast sofa tomorrow, Daisy. I’d like you to be there with me.’
‘What?’ For a moment she looked excited, then just plain scared. ‘Oh, no…’ Then she bounced back. ‘My hair!’
‘The make-up girls will fix it for you.’
‘But what will I wear? Can I borrow your…?’ she began. Then, as quickly as it had bubbled up, her excitement evaporated and she sank back into the sofa. ‘Forget it. You don’t want me there.’
‘I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you there. I want the world to know I have a sister.’
‘Parade me as your charity case? No thanks.’
She was doing it deliberately. For a moment she’d forgotten about the dress. What she’d done to it.
‘You don’t have to punish yourself over the dress, Daisy,’ she said. ‘You did it. It happened. You apologised. Now move on.’ She didn’t move. ‘Okay. Let’s deal with this. Come on.’
‘What?’ But Belle had her by the hand and, before she knew what was happening, they were in the room where all her gowns were hanging on rails, waiting for a carpenter to find time to start work on fitted wardrobes.
Nothing had been touched since Daisy’s attack on her dress. She’d simply shut the door on it, unable to face what it meant. For a brief shining moment it had seemed that she’d been offered a second chance, not just with her sister, but with Ivo. Life, however, wasn’t that simple.
She’d never forgive herself for what she’d done to Ivo, for overriding his natural reserve, common sense, with a promise of something that was not hers to give.
Wanting it all.
She, more than anyone, should know how impossible that was. She’d found her sister. Eventually she’d find herself. And Ivo would, now the barriers had been broken down, find someone else.
Now, like her sister, she needed to live with what she’d done, move on, and she walked along the dress rail, running a finger over the hangers.
She’d cleared out a lot of her clothes, sent them to a charity shop. She was already building a new wardrobe for the different woman she was becoming and had only kept those that she needed for work, the ones that meant something special to her.
Her finger stopped at random and she took the dress from the rail, held it up for Daisy, hanging back in the doorway, to see. It was black, a sizzling strapless gown. She’d never wear it again. Had kept it out of sentimentality.
‘I wore this dress to my first awards dinner years ago,’ she said. Remembering the night. How nervous she’d been. How startled she’d been when she’d seen the glamorous photographs in the gossip mags the following week. Thinking it couldn’t be her. It wasn’t
She picked up the scissors, still lying where they’d fallen, gouging a lump out of the surface of the dressing table, and hacked it in two, discarding the pieces so that they fell to the floor to lie with the shreds of cream and gold. Ignored Daisy’s gasp of horror as she continued running her finger along the rail.
‘Now this one,’ she said matter-of-factly, picking out a low-cut scarlet gown, ‘was the dress I wore to some fancy affair involving bankers.’
Newly married, she’d been planning to wear something sedate in black, but then Manda had stuck her oar in, warning her not to make an exhibition of herself and what was a girl to do? Ivo hadn’t said a word. His eyes had done the talking and, later, his fingers had done the walking.
‘Billionaires, Daisy, drool just like normal men.’
Her sister whimpered as the scissors flashed and it joined the black dress on the floor.
Moving on.
She worked her way along the rail, picking out special favourites from these treasured gowns, recalling for her sister the special occasions on which she’d worn them. Birthdays, anniversaries, galas. Shutting her mind against the afterwards, when Ivo had unzipped, unhooked, unbuttoned each one, sometimes slowly, sometimes impatiently, always with passion.
By the time she reached the end of the rail Daisy was in tears and she was very close to them, her eyes swimming as she reached for the last gown.
A simple pleated column of grey silk, it was the first vintage gown she’d bought. Chanel at her most perfect. It was the gown she’d been wearing on that evening in the Serpentine Gallery.
Cutting this one would be hardest of all and yet it would be a symbol, a promise to her sister, even though it was one that Daisy would not understand. A promise to her sister, a demonstration that none of this mattered. That nothing would come between them ever again.
As she raised the scissors, Daisy caught her arm.
‘Don’t,’ she sobbed. ‘Please don’t.’ Then she sank to her knees, picking up tiny pieces of gold lace, holding them together as if she could undo the destruction. ‘I’m sorry, Bella. So sorry.’
‘It’s only a dress, Daisy,’ she said, letting the scissors fall to her side, almost faint with relief, sinking down beside her. ‘It’s not important. I just wanted you to understand that there is nothing more important to me than you.’ She lifted her chin, forcing Daisy to look at her. ‘You do believe me?’
‘You looked like a princess that night,’ she said, wiping her cheek with the palm of her hand. ‘I was in the crowd outside the hotel, waiting for you to arrive. I wasn’t going to ever come to you, mess up your life, but I
