A Surfeit of Daisies

Sylvie rooted around in the attic. Opening yet another box in search of inspiration for an art project, she rummaged around half-heartedly until her fingers brushed something smooth. She fished out a slightly moth eaten black diary and grinned; her Mom’s.

June 7th 1987

Strange day – arrived at the Adams’. Nice to be starting a new diary again.

There were a few months of entries, each as uninformative as the first. Sylvie snapped it shut, irritated. There went the potential for Mamma Mia-like drama in her life.

“I found an old diary of yours, Mom,” she said at dinner that night. It was just the two of them in their spacious house.

“Oh?” Agatha replied, dishing potatoes out. “Which one?”

“It’s black. Starts in 1987 – and pretty boring it is too. You know the point of a diary is to be filled with gossip?”

Agatha raised her eyebrows, a momentary frown crossing her placid face. “Well, life wasn’t so hectic and interesting back then. And England is a quiet place. It was a normal summer.”

Sylvie shrugged and speared a potato with her fork. The conversation turned to other matters.

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June 7th 1987

“This is where you’ll be staying,” said Mrs Adams, opening the door to a small room in the attic.

“Cecilia is up at 8am, and you’ll get her ready for school, drop her off...”

She droned on but Agatha wasn’t really listening. Cecilia was nine, how hard could it be? She looked at the beam of golden light shining through the window and wished Mrs Adams would go away.

“... but I’ll leave you to unpack now.”

Finally. Peace and quiet.

Agatha had met Mr Adams and Cecilia upon arrival, and formed the impression that the family were affluent but dull. At dinner she was introduced to the last remaining member; the eldest daughter, Daisy. She bounded in late, light-hearted apologies falling from her lips as she dashed from door to sink to table, and it suddenly made sense to Agatha why everyone else seemed so grey; Daisy appeared to have absorbed their colour. The room seemed brighter now that she was in it.

She immediately tackled Agatha in conversation - where was she from? How old was she? What did she do for fun? - and Agatha couldn’t help but wish her answers - London, 19, read - were more interesting.

“Well I’ve had a fabulous day,” said Daisy at last, directing her attention to the family. “Adam asked me to go swimming, and we spent all today down by the river. He’s much cleverer than I thought he was, you know. And I got marvellously tanned.” She pulled down the strap of her top, revealing a paler stripe beneath it. Agatha was entranced.

“Tomorrow Agatha, let’s go for a wander round town. There’s almost nothing to do but I’m sure we’ll manage.” She winked.

June 14th

Cecilia fell over and grazed her knee but Adam helped bandage it. Everything tasted amazing today.

Agatha and Cecilia played hopscotch all the way to the school.

“I bet you can’t hop only on one leg for the rest of the way,” Agatha gasped finally, pausing to catch her breath.

“Bet you I can!” cried Cecilia, who set off at an admittedly impressive pace. Agatha watched her, grinning, until Cecilia turned back to say something and promptly tripped over. Then she began crying. Agatha hated crying.

“Oh dear, you’re okay,” she said, falling to her knees beside her.

“Not much of a nanny, are you Ags?” said a voice. Agatha turned to see Daisy and Adam.

“She’s fine,” she replied, turning to hide her embarrassment

“Here you go Cece,” said Adam, crouching down and pulling a plaster out of his pocket. “Lucky for you I have a magical bandage.”

Cecilia sniffled.

Adam seemed better at this. Agatha stood up and cast a guilty look at Daisy, who met her eye and laughed.

“Don’t worry, Ags. She’s just being a baby. Me and Adam are going to the river again – wanna come?”

Agatha was surprised. “I’d love to.”

They dropped off Cecilia only slightly puffy-eyed and headed to the river. It was a glorious day. The sky was that beautiful dark shade of pure blue, and the roads shimmered in the heat. They splashed around and sunbathed, and then Adam announced he was going for a proper swim.

“Have fun,” said Daisy, her voice muffled beneath a huge hat over her face. “I’m staying here.”

“I will too,” said Agatha.

They talked. Agatha was delighted to discover they had a lot in common. Taste in music, in books; it was amazing. They ate strawberries and laughed in the sunlight.

July 15th

I love fields – they’re so full of light and the cutest little flowers. You can make daisy chains.

Habits formed fast. Every day Agatha would drop Cecilia off and then meet Daisy. Sometimes it was the river, sometimes they’d wander around the village or hike the nearby hills. The days were luxurious; early light and late nights made time stretch, so that every day felt like forever and yet passed in a flash. Sometimes Adam would join them, which was fine. But the days Agatha liked most were just the two of them, where they would lie in sun-soaked fields and talk about their futures. Daisy wanted to be a journalist at the Times. Agatha wanted stability.

“You have to have a passion, Ags!” Daisy would cry, but Agatha didn’t. It was one of the two things they disagreed on. The other arose rarely, but each time it did they would stop speaking to each other for a few hours. Eventually Agatha would crack and ask for forgiveness, and Daisy would laugh and say she had acted stupidly too.

August 2nd

Some people are idiots. Why are they so endearing anyway?

The first time it happened, they were in the pub on Friday evening, just as the sun was beginning to set. Agatha went to the bathroom, and returned to find everyone in an uproariously good mood.

“What’s going on?” she asked Daisy.

“Adam asked me to be his girlfriend,” she grinned. “So drinks are on me!” The last part was shouted across the pub, to a resounding response of cheers.

“You and who’s money?” Agatha snorted. Daisy barely remembered her shoes most days, let alone a purse.

She winced. “Hope you don’t mind Ags, but I used yours this time. I’ll pay you back!”

To Daisy’s surprise it turned out Agatha did mind. She berated her for being thoughtless and throwing other people’s money around.

“Just because you don’t have to pay for anything doesn’t mean everyone else is quite as free with their stupid whims!” cried Agatha. They didn’t speak for a day.

This happened a few times. Agatha was thrifty, stingy even, which she justified coming from a family that economised at every chance. Daisy seemed unable, and more importantly, unwilling, to wrap her head around it, having been paid for all her life. But every time they had a spat, they would smooth things over.

August 30th

It rained today – summer seems to be over. I’m looking forward to winter – I've had a surfeit of flowers recently. I think I might move to America.

It was one of the last warm days of the season. Daisy and Agatha had spent the day swimming and were headed to pick up Cecilia from her summer tutor. They scrambled up the grassy verge that led to the road, past an old gnarled tree.

“I’ve got a stitch,” moaned Agatha, holding her side with one hand and the trunk with the other. It was particularly wizened, and the trunk was largely hollow. Bent over to catch her breath, an odd texture suddenly caught her eye. Too smooth.

She peered inside the trunk. There was a brown leather duffel bag stuffed halfway down. How strange. She reached in and pulled it out.

“What’s that?” called Daisy, but Agatha ignored her.

She had just started to open it when her stomach gave a jolt, and she almost ripped the rest open. Then she sat back on her heels in astonishment.

Piles of tightly bound cash filled the bag to the brim.

Daisy whistled behind her. “That’s a lot of money.”

She crouched and began thumbing through the notes. “There’s got to be thousands here. And they’re dollars.” Daisy quickly counted one pile and eyed the rest. “20,000 grand I reckon. And -” she reached past a bundle to a glint of black beneath.

“This.” She pulled out something – black, shiny – a gun.

Agatha recoiled.

“I don’t like this,” said Daisy suddenly, stumbling to her feet. “I feel like we’ve stumbled across the Mafia or something. Come on, let’s go to the police station.”

She made to grab the bag but a hand reached out and stopped her. Agatha realised it was her own.

“Wait a second...” she said slowly. Her brain was whirring, but seemed to be producing thoughts very slowly.

“Why?” said Daisy, in a tone both surprised and a little irritated. “This is weird, let’s go.”

“That’s a lot of money,” Agatha said again, still looking at the bag.

“A lot of money that’s not ours,” said Daisy, trying again to grab the handles. Agatha shoved her away.

“Hey-“

“No one knows about this,” said Agatha. “You have enough money.” She was talking very fast. “I need this. This would change my life. You’re my friend, surely you can understand that.”

Daisy’s eyebrows rose. “I can understand that you’re talking rubbish. Give it here.” She reached but Agatha fumbled inside the bag and drew out the gun. Was the safety on or off? They were never too clear in movies.

Daisy rolled her eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. Stop it.”

Again, again, she went to grab it but Agatha pulled her off balance. She yelped, gave a shove in response and soon they were struggling in earnest. Daisy’s face was right up against hers, her eyes – those eyes – flashing and her teeth almost bared. Agatha felt a sudden burst of strength – emotion, something – and twisted her arms. Daisy cried out, they slipped, the cold edge of metal scraped against her fingers – Bang!

Agatha hit the ground. Her head hurt, but she was looking at the sky. Something had happened. Had it? The sky was so blue. She couldn’t look. She didn’t have to, she was sunbathing with Daisy. They might go swimming in a moment.

Silence. She sat up. Daisy could have been sunbathing; she was stretched out next to her. But her eyes couldn’t see how blue the sky was, and a pool of red had soaked her clothes and was seeping into the surrounding moss.

More silence. Agatha thought again. Her brain sped up. She grabbed the bag, and ran back along the river, to a copse of bushes some distance away. She counted exactly half the money; $10,000, and pushed it right into the middle, where no one would find it.

Then she ran back.

She left the bag open next to Daisy, the gun still on the floor. Deep breath. Then she looked at Daisy's beautiful, unseeing face and allowed all her emotion to rise to the surface. What could have been. But she wasn’t going to throw her life away. Tears blurred her vision. Then she ran as fast as she could to the middle of the village, screaming for help.

The next few days were blurred in her memory. Interview after interview, repeating the same story. We found the bag, I wanted to bring it to the police, Daisy wanted to spend it. We argued, she pointed the gun at me. It went off in the struggle. Here’s the money. The police were sympathetic, took the bag, and said they would investigate.

Five days later, she left the Adams’. She went back to the bushes and tucked ten bundles of notes into her travelling back. Then she left.