Daisies

A lazy summer afternoon by the open-air pool allows my mind to wander, thinking about the past. The sight of daisies, with their tiny flowers popping up like mushrooms and creeping across the grass, makes me think of that time.

In May, a hot day is precious by the lido, when children are in school, and their parents are at work. I lie listening to the soothing, rhythmic sound of swimmers’ arms splashing in and out of the water. High above me, a wisp of cloud stretches a ‘c’ across the blue sky. I sigh and sink onto the sunbed.

A shadow appears out of nowhere, covering me and blocking the sunlight. I squint, raising my hand against the light to look, but the silhouetted face is unrecognizable in the shade.

‘Hanna?’

The woman’s voice sounds familiar.

She moves close to my side, allowing the sun to break through and capture her face. Still, I’m none the wiser. I feel my cheeks flush.

‘Hanna Mason?’

‘Who’s asking?’ I move to a sitting position, swinging my legs around to touch the ground.

‘It’s me. Jill!’ She lifts her sunglasses up to the top of her head.

I take a sharp breath. ‘Jill?’

When I stand up, we both speak at once, unintelligible words, followed by a peck on the cheek, after an awkward which-side-first moment.

The sight of her slim figure and smooth skin makes me feel older and heavier right away.

‘How long has it been?’ Jill tosses a lock of dyed blonde hair behind her ear.

Her voice has the same gravelly tone. I can see her taking in my plump frame and greying hair. Had I known I might bump into someone from the past, I’d have made more of an effort. Why do I still care what she thinks?

‘Thirty-five years?’ I reply.

‘Well, that passed in the blink of an eye, didn’t it? Do you still live around here?’ Jill says, her mouth forming a down-turned ‘U.’

‘Finsbury Park.’ I spot her expensive-looking bracelet dangling off a tanned wrist. ‘You?’

‘Visiting my daughter in Hampstead. Grandchildren in school, thank heavens.’ Jill rolls her eyes.

She scans our surroundings in case there’s someone more interesting nearby; coming up blank, she nods towards the café.

‘Bit of a greasy spoon, but fancy a coffee?’

With increasing trepidation, I gather my belongings; an ancient tote bag serves as a handbag and a fat day dress that covers all my bulges when I pull it over my head. I stretch the threadbare towel out over the sunbed to dry. I feel Jill’s eyes on me, boring a hole in my back. Why do I even care?

Jill orders a latte; well, she would, wouldn’t she? I ask Nick, the café owner, for a mint tea.

‘We’ve a delicious lemon drizzle cake here with your name on it, ladies.’ Nick smiles.

‘I’ll take a slice.’ I regret opening my mouth when Jill throws me a withering glance.

I open my purse to pay, but Jill puts her hand over mine. ‘No, no, my treat.’ She grins, revealing perfect, even white teeth, of course.

‘There you go, lovey.’ Nick hands me my tea. ‘Careful, it’s hot.’

Jill picks a table on the terrace overlooking the water. I grimace at the scraping noise the metal chair makes against the stone when she drags it over.

‘Well, come on then, give me a fast-forward of your life.’ Jill laughs.

‘I retired from my nursing job last year.’

‘Wouldn’t have put you down as a nurse.’ Jill stirs her latte. ‘Husband, children?’

‘My husband died young, and I brought up our two children alone.’ I feel as though someone is interrogating me. 'How about you?'

We’re interrupted by my phone ringing. I fumble in my bag and swipe at it to stop it from ringing. ‘Sorry, I’m sure it’s not important.’

‘We’ve lived all over. I never had to work; my husband is a banker. We’ve just spent ten years in Dubai. We have two girls, educated at private schools, both went to Oxford.’

Jill flicks an imaginary fleck of dirt off her white t-shirt.

‘Without wishing to sound too smug, I guess I did pretty well for myself.’ The twitch of a self-satisfied smile creeps across her face.

‘Nice,’ I say with all the enthusiasm I can summon up.

‘Of course, now hubby’s thinking of retiring, and unless he takes up golf twenty-four hours a day, I’ll be stuck with him under my feet. That’ll cramp my style if you get my gist.’

Jill ogles a young man drying himself. ‘If I was twenty years younger.’

I resist the urge to tell her that a foam moustache has taken residence above her top lip. I imagine all that Botox reduces the feeling sensation. It’s amazing how people don’t change.

The fact of not telling her makes me chuckle, and my tea goes down the wrong way, causing me to splutter and cough.

‘You alright, lovey?’ Nick shouts from behind the counter.

‘Yes, thanks!’ I yell back.

‘A tad familiar, isn’t he?’ Jill smirks.

‘Who? Nick?’ I wave at him. ‘We’re friends. I’m a regular here.’

‘I’ve not been here since I was a teenager, but it looks just the same. Shabby chic, don’t they call it these days?’

‘Why didn’t you write?’ I say and remember Jill’s family leaving suddenly. The rumour is that it had something to do with her dad’s new job.

‘What was the point? I had a new life,’ Jill twiddles her wedding ring.

Sparrows gather under the tables, chirping and hopping. I wriggle in my seat and drop a few crumbs. Young au pairs sail past, pushing their charges in strollers, chattering away to each other.

I turn to Jill. ‘Do you ever think about that day?’

‘Which day?’

‘When Lisa died.’

‘Oh, that day.’ Jill crosses her legs and stares out over the pool. ‘Maybe my parents shouldn’t have hired that huge inflatable swimming pool.’

Silence.

Jill’s eyes meet mine; her stare is cold and unflinching. ‘Not that anyone missed her. She was an annoying little cow.’

‘Let’s not talk ill of the dead.’ I place my cup on the saucer, the teaspoon chinks against the china. ‘It happened a long time ago, and time plays tricks with memories.’

‘It was an accident.’ Jill raises her eyebrows. ‘That was the final verdict.’

‘Yes,’ I say.

My heart beats faster than usual as I remember Lisa on a summer day long gone, standing, laughing, water dripping off her long hair. I had shrieked as ice-cold water sprayed my skin, and Lisa pulled me towards the water. I had gasped at the sudden chill but relished the coolness when I jumped in.

Back in the present, a lone swimmer reaches the end of the pool and rests. Even the birds stop twittering.

‘Lisa always wore her hair down.’ Jill puts her cup down. ‘What a pity it got caught in the pool pump. I remember her legs flailing up and down against the side of the pool.’ She exhales with a light snorting sound.

My throat constricts, and I gag. I try to slow my breathing and stay calm. Jill saw Lisa’s legs thrashing against the side and did nothing? All the guilt we children felt over the years, because we were inside watching a film when it happened, unaware of Lisa’s fate.

The image of Lisa’s daisy chain necklace floating above her body in the water floods my brain, followed by the sound of screaming children. It’s why I became a nurse.

‘You shouldn’t have eaten that cake, dear,’ Jill says. ‘You’re looking peaky. Look, why don’t we swap numbers and do this again sometime?’

My eyes well up, and my breath comes shallow and fast. With a trembling hand, I take my phone out of my bag.

‘Here are my details.’ She takes a little card from her wallet. ‘Call me sometime. I’m here until the end of summer.’

’I mutter something unintelligible before she stands up. Not that she notices, mind. She sweeps her silk scarf over her shoulder and glides off towards the park with a ‘Bye darling!’

The business card with gold embossed letters stares back at me from the table.

Jill was an envious, cruel girl who resented Lisa’s popularity, but was she wicked enough to do such a thing? Am I projecting onto her words and jumping to wrong conclusions? False memories, that’s what psychologists call it. But her last words. I’ve no proof; it’s speculation. It won’t bring Lisa back.

I pick up my phone to check the missed call, but somehow the Voice Memo app is open. My daughter had shown me how to use it for recording shopping lists. I’ve such sausage fingers with my smartphone, she’s always poking fun at me for it. By some miracle, I stop the recording and play it back. The chilling words of Jill echo in my ears.

‘Lisa always wore her hair down. What a pity it got caught in the pool pump. I remember her legs flailing up and down against the side of the pool.’