Page 12 of Wanting Daisy Dead

Maddie

What did I love about Daisy? She could be kind, and fun, and she’d sometimes come into my room to watch my TV and eat my chocolate.

‘Let’s have a sleepover!’ she’d say, and we’d watch daft films like Freaky Friday , The Princess Diaries , Bridget Jones , stuff that made us laugh.

We’d watch Disney films too, and take the Princess Test – to see which Disney princess we were.

Daisy was always Pocahontas: spirited, open-minded, and longing for adventure .

I was always Aurora: shy and reticent, but brimming with passion.

I have often thought how accurate those silly teenage quizzes were, and I smile to myself.

She once said, ‘With you, Maddie, I don’t have to be cool.

’ Being oversensitive, I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment – did she mean I wasn’t cool?

But now I realise she meant she could be herself with me, and I felt the same.

‘Do you still drive fancy cars?’ Lauren’s asking Dan. Those two seem to be bonding. I never saw a connection before, but perhaps it was there all the time?

I’m not great at reading people; I think that’s why I’m taken advantage of sometimes. Mum used to say I never see the bad in anyone, but that’s not true – I can sniff out evil.

‘Ooh, our phones pinged, let’s listen!’ Lauren says, holding up her phone. I’ve put mine on mute, because every time it pings it makes me jump. I’m smiling, but inside I’m a wreck.

Lauren’s still clutching her phone, waiting for our attention so she can play the voice note. I get the feeling she’s actually enjoying this torture. Did she really hate Daisy so much that she can find pleasure in this rehash of her death?

‘So, your answers on the cards will now be collected as dinner is served. The main course this evening is pizza, topped with heirloom tomatoes, artichokes and buffalo mozzarella. Daisy loved pizza. Apparently she met Alex for pizza on the day she died.’

We all raise our eyebrows at this. ‘What was she doing with Alex? I don’t remember hearing that before,’ I say.

‘They were good friends – they often went out together,’ Lauren adds. ‘It was mentioned in court, but only because he was the last one of us to see her.’

‘Oh, I was in Dubai by the time it went to court,’ I say, but no one’s listening.

‘They’re about to serve us her last supper. Bloody hell, that’s a bit much.’ Dan grits his teeth.

‘This course doesn’t feel quite so appetising,’ Georgie says half-heartedly, as the waiters bring in platters and lay them on the table. ‘And pizza after parfait? Yuck.’

Georgie groans, lifting her crust with the end of a knife like it’s contagious.

A messed-up menu is the least of our problems, and it doesn’t seem to offend Lauren, who’s soon tucking into her food.

She only stops eating to fill everyone’s glass, including her own, which she downs quickly.

Lauren always liked drinking; she could drink all night and never get really drunk.

I wonder fleetingly if she struggles with her appetite for wine as I do with food?

‘I can’t face that.’ Georgie pushes hers away, and I look longingly at the untouched vegetables and tangy cheese atop the sweet tomatoes and sourdough crust. Despite the nature of this dinner (or perhaps because of it), I’m feeling the irrepressible urge to eat, and wonder if one pizza will be enough.

I adore pizza, and attack mine with gusto – and regret.

I knew this weekend would be an emotional roller coaster and lead to a binge.

I just wish I’d brought extra food with me to eat alone later, in private.

Why do I play these games with myself? I should have known I’d lose control.

Even with my mouth full, and a huge pizza in front of me, I’m fully aware that Georgie’s pizza is still there, untouched. It’s taking all my willpower not to reach over, take that pizza in my hands and stuff it into my mouth until there’s nothing left.

‘I hate this,’ I hear myself say, surprised at how angry I feel. It’s been bubbling under all evening, and my lack of control over the food is making me feel worse. I hate feeling like this. I’m away from home and have no control over anything.

‘You okay?’ Lauren asks gently.

‘No, I feel under pressure. I want to be at home on my own with Minty.’

‘You have a partner?’

‘No, it’s my cat.’

Lauren smiles indulgently. ‘Oh, Maddie, you are so sweet. Look, we’re only here for three nights.

You’ll be on your way home to your cat by Monday morning.

I know it’s hard, but we all need to push through this and come out the other end.

It will make us feel stronger, like good therapy – trust me. ’

‘I already have a therapist,’ I confess. ‘He says I’m self-destructive, insecure, and find reality hard to cope with.’

‘I think we all have those emotions at times.’

‘I smash things to pieces, Lauren. It’s self-sabotage.

I did the same with my ballet career, my degree and even my relationships – they all came to nothing.

I had this fear of failure, and I turned it into reality.

It was me who made myself the failed ballet dancer, the failed daughter, the failed lover . ..’

Dan and Georgie look up, surprised. I got carried away. I have to be careful this weekend, and not blurt out a list of the failures in my life at the dinner table.

‘I didn’t know you felt like that,’ Lauren says quietly.

‘Why would you? We aren’t close, we haven’t kept in touch.

’ The thing is, the people gathered around this table knew little of my life even when they lived with me.

Daisy, Lauren, Dan and Georgie were the stars of the show; Alex and I were merely extras in their drama.

They were all so busy performing, and playing their parts, that they weren’t interested in the bit-part players.

But they’d be surprised if they really knew me, if they knew what I’d done , or discovered what I do.

‘So, have you ever been engaged, or married?’ Lauren’s asking. I guess the writer in her loves a life story, and the (failed) actress in me loves telling mine. Even if bits are deleted here and there.

‘Yes, actually I was married, but I ran away.’

‘I see,’ Lauren says. ‘There’s a pattern, isn’t there? You abandoned your uni course too. You literally ran away the night Daisy was ... found.’

‘Yeah, I ...’ Do I continue with this?

I have to – if I don’t it will look suspicious.

‘I guess I just hoped that the week she was missing, that’s all she was – missing.

But when they discovered her ... body, it felt like the end of everything, so I left.

I realise now that I was probably in shock – well, we all were. ’

‘And we all respond differently. No one is right or wrong.’ Lauren reaches her hand across the table to mine and squeezes it.

I squeeze back, and her kind gesture warms me.

‘I remember the police interviewing us all, and though you were only missing for a night we were concerned that you’d gone the same way as Daisy – that’s when the Campus Killer headlines started.

Everyone was terrified, thinking there was a serial killer at large slaughtering female students. ’

‘Yeah, but I was still on the train when Alex told the police where I was. I’d only told him – I just had to get away. I was angry with him at the time, but he did the right thing.’

‘Yes ... Then of course you had the finger pointed at you. Everyone was asking why you’d left suddenly – and did you know something.’

‘God, Lauren, it was obvious that I ran away because I was upset at the news. What kind of person would say I left because I knew something? I didn’t! I ran away because they found Daisy’s body, not because I killed her!’

‘No, no, I wasn’t suggesting for a moment ... I just meant people were talking.’

I bet the only people talking were my housemates. I’m sure their natural instinct was to try to pin it on me or Alex, the outsiders.

‘So what happened in Scotland? We never talked about it.’

Lauren is hilarious. She and I never talked full stop. She wasn’t interested in me; she was too busy having an obsessive-possessive relationship with Daisy and keeping me out. Only now does she want to know what happened. I bet she’s writing another book.

‘Nothing happened. Two police officers were waiting at Edinburgh station for me when I got off the train, and the next day they took me home. I don’t even know why I went, I had no family or friends there.

I’d never been to Scotland before in my life.

It just seemed far away, another country .

.. The police were very understanding. They realised that me jumping on a train wasn’t an act of guilt, but one of grief,’ I add, driving my point home.

Running away had been a knee-jerk reaction; it was stupid and it made me look guilty. They’re all being sympathetic now, but I know at the time they questioned my innocence, because Alex told me.

Lauren is looking at me just like my therapist does. ‘So, after the police found you in Edinburgh, why didn’t you come back to uni, continue your course?’

Her single-mindedness, her search for answers, astounds me. ‘I ... I couldn’t. I found it too distressing. Were you okay? After all, she was your best friend,’ I say, throwing the spotlight on her.

‘Yeah, obviously I was devastated,’ she says, unconvincingly. ‘But I had to finish my degree. It’s what she would have wanted.’

I almost laugh at this. What a cop-out. I know how Daisy felt about Lauren – their friendship had deteriorated to the point that they were barely speaking when Daisy died. And, alive or dead, she wouldn’t have given a toss whether Lauren finished her degree. That just wasn’t Daisy.

‘So, where did you go instead of uni?’ Lauren is asking. She really can’t leave it alone.

‘I stayed at home with my mum, tried to stay under the radar, but then, after a few weeks, a friend offered me work dancing in Dubai.’

‘Running away again,’ Lauren sighs. I wish she’d drop it.

‘Yeah, but being somewhere completely new and away from all the hate helped me move on,’ I reply defensively.

‘But I never settled, and until recently I was moving around, working in bars, living in caravans.’ The truth is, I’ve been scared to stick around anywhere in case I get close to someone and they start asking questions.

‘So, have you met anyone else? Do you have a man in your life now?’

This is difficult, and I’m not sure what to say, especially now Dan and Georgie have completely stopped their own private conversation to listen in to ours.

‘No, I’m single. I just bought my own home. I love being alone ... I’m ... happy.’

‘Good! I’m proud of you.’ Lauren is beaming.

‘So what do you do?’ Georgie asks.

‘I ... have a yoga studio ... I teach dance too,’ I lie, my cheeks burning.

I want this to be over. I can feel their eyes on me.

The other phones ping, and I unmute mine and place it on the table so we can all listen to the voice note.

‘So, when formally questioned, David Montgomery admitted he was having an affair with the deceased. On the night she was killed, Montgomery’s wife and children were away, and, according to him, he and Daisy had a secret liaison earlier that evening.

Consequently, some of his DNA was still on the body, but did that mean he was the last person to see her?

The jury thought so – but we’re not convinced . .. ’

We sit in silence while we take that in.

‘Your answers were collected just before the main course, and now Greta, your waitress, will return those answers. They will still remain nameless, and you will all read someone else’s to keep your identities secret – but then again, you might be reading your own!’

Everyone looks at each other nervously, including me.

‘Four people answered questions tonight, as Alex isn’t with us yet.’

Greta hands us each an envelope with our name on it.

‘Please keep your envelope sealed until it’s your turn to read an answer out.’

We all do as we’re told. ‘This must be what it’s like being in a cult,’ I offer, but everyone seems so nervous they just ignore me.

‘So, let’s go round the table. What do you love about Daisy, and what’s your favourite memory? Dan, would you like to read yours first?’

‘Okay,’ Dan says, and despite his relaxed demeanour I notice he’s all fingers and thumbs opening the envelope.

‘Okay,’ he says again, more confidently, and clears his throat.

‘ What I loved about Daisy was her optimism, and her kindness. Ahh, that’s nice,’ he adds.

Georgie rolls her eyes and glares at Lauren.

‘ My favourite memory of Daisy is when we used to eat a large tub of ice cream together and watch TV .’ Then he turns to me. ‘Maddie, you go now.’

I’m already holding the piece of paper. ‘ She was my favourite housemate, she was fun and sexy, and my favourite memory is being in bed with her ,’ I read, then feel myself flushing. God, I didn’t expect that one.

Georgie gives Dan a filthy look. ‘It wasn’t me!’ he’s muttering, but she obviously doesn’t believe him – and neither would I.

‘Lauren, you’re up next!’ Dan says. He’s obviously taken it upon himself to be ‘quiz master’.

‘ Daisy was fun, and I loved her laugh. Favourite memory – Daisy making great cheese on toast when she was drunk! I love that.’ Lauren beams.

‘And finally, Georgie?’ Dan turns to his wife, but she doesn’t look at him. She just rips the card from the envelope, unsmiling.

‘ I loved Daisy because she was a brilliant writer and one day would have been a famous novelist ,’ she reads without much enthusiasm.

I assume this is Lauren, and give her a smile, but she doesn’t look at me, just shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

Georgie looks pale. ‘I don’t want to read the rest.’

‘Go on.’ Dan nudges her. ‘What’s the favourite memory? Don’t be a spoilsport.’

‘Dan, I’m not being a bloody spoilsport!’ she hisses under her breath.

‘Not like you to break the rules.’

This seems to change her mind. ‘If you insist, Dan, then I’ll read it. My favourite memory of Daisy is seeing her lying on the floor, trickles of blood coming from her head, her beautiful blue eyes wide in wonder. ’