Page 31 of Wanting Daisy Dead

Maddie

‘God, I hate all this upset,’ I murmur, as I help Lauren try to soak as much of the red wine as possible from her dress.

Everyone knows Georgie has a temper, but watching her tip a full glass over Lauren was still shocking to witness.

I saw it coming, and when it happened it felt like slow motion.

For a few seconds after, we all just sat there open-mouthed.

Dan called Georgie ‘an idiot’, and she burst into tears and ran from the dining room.

Then Lauren started swearing and whimpering about her dress and ran to the toilets.

I followed her, and found her trying desperately to wipe off the red stain.

It was quite chilling; she reminded me of Lady Macbeth.

I’m now on my knees pressing paper towels all over it to try to get the stain off.

She’s already shouted at me for rubbing at the silk, but how would I know you’re not supposed to rub at silk with wet paper towels?

I’m really trying to help her but, as is often the case with me, I think I’m just being annoying.

‘Was it an expensive dress?’ I ask.

‘It’s fucking Gucci!’

‘Oh, Lauren, that must have cost a fortune – is it insured?’

‘Is it fuck , it’s hired .’

‘Oh dear.’ I press harder with the towels. ‘I’m sure the hire company will be insured.’ Red wine seeps into the paper like blood, but I try not to think about it.

‘No, they’ll charge me for the dress. Christ knows how much this will cost me.’

‘It won’t be that much, I’m sure.’

‘But I don’t have any money, Maddie!’

‘What do you mean?’ I look up enquiringly, but she obviously decides not to elaborate.

‘Oh, forget it, forget I said that. What a bitch Georgie is. She’s always had anger issues, that one. I’m not surprised everyone thinks she killed Daisy.’

I don’t respond. I’m not getting involved in any of that; I’m staying under the radar. There are too many loose tongues around here, as Mum used to say.

‘The dress is clearly ruined, there’s no point in even trying,’ she’s saying hopelessly as I continue to kneel on the floor, pressing paper towels on to the fabric like my life depends on it. ‘There’s no point , Maddie,’ she repeats, gently pushing me away.

I know this, but am compelled to keep going. I’m desperately hoping that if I do it for long enough the towels will eventually lift off all the red liquid. I need to see it gone.

‘Just one more towel,’ I say, like a gambler at a fruit machine. ‘This one might just be the lucky towel.’

She laughs hopelessly at this, then stops and looks at me. ‘Maddie, I’m sorry, I think I snapped at you then. You’re always so kind, even if what you’re doing now does feel a bit weird and ritualistic.’ She’s looking down at me and we both smile as I abandon the not-so-lucky towel and stand up.

‘I wish we’d been friends back then,’ she says with a sigh.

‘My fault,’ she adds presumptuously, like I had no say, it was her choice not to be my friend.

‘I was very closed off,’ she’s saying. ‘I only wanted to be friends with people like me . I never saw it then, but you’re bright and funny – there’s more to you than meets the eye .

.. but I just wanted Daisy to myself. I wanted the best-friend experience.

You know, secrets and gossip – just the two of us.

’ She pauses and, staring ahead, says, ‘I still miss her.’

Daisy never shared secrets and gossip with Lauren; she didn’t trust her.

I was Daisy’s friend, and we were always in each other’s orbit one way or another, from the first day of the first year until she died.

Our relationship ebbed and flowed, like her – hot and cold, happy and sad – but I was the consistent one, always there for her when she needed a shoulder to lean on.

And before she died, Daisy and I drifted together again, probably because she and Lauren had fallen out, but I was happy to take the crumbs where Daisy was concerned.

I’d seen who Lauren was early on. I’d known girls like her at ballet school.

So competitive, and driven by enormous ambition.

But Lauren never felt good enough; she was always coveting someone else’s clothes or work or boyfriend.

And having targeted the beautiful, bright A-student Daisy, she hoped some of the stardust might rub off on her.

Daisy was pursued by Dan, Lauren, and to a degree by Georgie too – they all wanted what she had.

Daisy was just effortlessly cool; she wore second-hand clothes, and gathered her hair up in a loose bun and looked stunning.

She was clever and funny and everyone just wanted to be in her company, but she was a social butterfly, always fluttering off.

Perhaps it was her elusiveness that captivated them?

This was agony for Lauren, whose competitive nature hated to be constantly outshone by Daisy. Lauren was never able to focus on her own goals because she was too busy comparing herself to her clever, beautiful friend.

I’d seen this kind of overriding competitiveness, in ballet, when dancers literally fell during a move because they weren’t focused.

The teacher would yell at them, ‘Eyes front’, and the dancer would start by looking at the wall in front of them – some teachers even made a mark with a felt tip to look at.

They would then hold their head high and maintain eye contact with that reference point while they started the turn.

Once they’d turned so far that their head couldn’t stay in that forward-facing position any longer, they’d quickly whip their head around in the direction of the turn and immediately face forward again, focusing on that same spot.

However, if for a moment they broke concentration by glancing over at another dancer, they lost focus, and often fell to the ground.

I always thought of this when I watched Lauren with Daisy – she was always looking around to see what she was doing, and if she needed to compete, or criticise, or copy her.

She was obsessed with Daisy, and if Daisy received high marks, or someone paid her a compliment, or anything positive happened for her – it was quite chilling to see Lauren’s reaction.

Consequently Lauren was so obsessed with what was happening with Daisy that she lost sight of the spot on her own wall, and fell to the ground.

I know she continued at uni after Daisy’s death, but I heard she struggled, and no one was as surprised as she was at her success with the book.

I watched an interview with her once on TV and she just seemed sad and angry.

‘Did you see the way she looked at me?’ Lauren is saying as we wash our hands. ‘I saw such hate in her eyes before she threw that wine, and I thought ...’ She grabs my arm for impact. ‘Is her hate the last thing Daisy saw?’

Again, I don’t respond, not willing to partake in this pointless, damaging gossip.

Lauren is studying me now, leaning against the sink, just looking into my face, the garish red blot screaming from the cream silk dress.

‘You still don’t say much, do you, Maddie? You’ve always been loyal to us all, I think. You’ve never gossiped.’ I think she’s frustrated that I won’t dish with her about Georgie, but who am I to criticise anyone?

‘I just find it a bit uncomfortable, if I’m honest. I’m nothing special, just Maddie from the block,’ I joke. ‘I’m still addicted to Snickers, still love the Spice Girls. And I’m always out of the loop, never quite sure what everyone’s on about.’

She laughs properly at this. ‘I think the ballet might have stunted your emotional and social growth,’ she offers, and smiles at me warmly, completely unaware of the massive insult she’s just hurled.

‘But you certainly have more self-insight than anyone else in there,’ she adds, nodding her head in the direction of the dining hall.

‘Thanks, I think.’ It doesn’t feel like a compliment; it feels patronising.

‘Georgie really should have told the police it was her that sent the letter,’ she starts, back on her favourite subject of Georgie-hating. ‘Coming back to it now, twenty years on, it really makes her look like a liar at best ... And at worst ...’

Does she expect me to finish that filthy sentence? Because I’m not going to.

I just nod. I don’t know what to say. I can hardly defend Georgie – by sending that letter she started something that ended in Daisy’s death.

‘Come on, let’s get back in there,’ Lauren says.

‘We don’t want them all talking about us in our absence.

’ She grabs me by the arm and ushers me through the doors.

She’s bloody paranoid – if I was her, I would have stayed in the bathroom longer, waited for everything to die down.

But, for all her talk, I’ve realised Lauren lacks confidence; she’s scared of being talked about – and even more scared of being left out.

‘Don’t you want to change your dress before going back in, Lauren?’ I ask as we walk along the corridor.

‘No ... I’m going to keep it on all night, as a reminder to Georgie of just what she did.’

Classic Lauren. Why move on when you can hang on, and keep milking a situation?

There’s a sudden ping, and I check my phone: a full audio file’s been sent. ‘I think it’s another interview,’ I say to Lauren, and I press play on my phone.

‘Hey guys! My name’s Ali West, you might remember I was a young reporter back in the day, and I covered a lot of the story around Daisy going missing and the subsequent murder investigation – including the court case.

I’m standing in for Tammy in this next interview, and the reason for this will soon become clear. ’

Lauren and I look at each other as we walk in and take our seats next to the others, and I stop playing the audio file as Alex already has it playing on his phone.

‘In this recorded episode of The Killer Question: Who Wanted Daisy Dead? I’d like to welcome Professor David Montgomery’s two daughters. Welcome,’ says Ali.