Daisy’s eyes, blue as cornflowers, stared into her mother’s. She thought that Ruby’d had more than enough upsets over the past few months. She wished she wasn’t being so damned obstinate about this. But then, Ruby was obstinate about nearly everything: Daisy supposed that was how she came to be such a success in life.
Could she look any less like me? wondered Daisy, watching her mother straighten her pearls in the hall mirror. It never failed to amaze and amuse her when she looked at Ruby. Daisy herself had the healthy tanned complexion, golden-blonde hair and robust build of a Valkyrie. There was certainly no question who Daisy’s father was: she was every inch the daughter of big, blond Cornelius Bray. She looked nothing like exotic, dark-skinned Ruby – unlike her twin, Kit.
Daisy didn’t even sound like her mother. Ruby’s voice still held a hint of the East End she’d grown up in; when Daisy spoke it was with the beautifully rounded vowels of the Home Counties, as befitted the daughter of Lord and Lady Bray. But Lord Bray hadn’t wanted to know about his dark-skinned son; Kit had been raised in a succession of uncaring state orphanages. And she had always felt so guilty about that.
In fact, Daisy felt that lately she passed her days consumed with guilt, not only about Kit but about her babies too. She loved her boys desperately, but being a stay-at-home mum had left her feeling restless, a little frustrated, a little bored even. Did that make her a failure as a mother? She felt that she was. And having abandoned her babies – and every waking minute spent away from them was torment – had she now compounded her failure by being a complete washout at her job?
‘How’s it going?’ Ruby asked.
‘Hm?’
‘At the store.’
Shortly after Christmas, Daisy had asked her mother if she could perhaps work in the Darkes flagship Marble Arch store. Ruby had been surprised, but gratified. She had dreamed of her daughter following in her footsteps one day. But she insisted that if Daisy was going to work in the store, then she was going to have to learn the trade from the bottom up, just as she had. And Daisy had agreed, even though it wasn’t what she’d envisaged. She’d pictured herself doing a little clerical work in Ruby’s office, helping out Joan, her mother’s PA. She liked Joan, who was a merry-eyed matron and kindness itself.
The trouble was, nothing had turned out the way she’d imagined – least of all store work. And on top of that there was the agony of leaving the twins in Jody’s care. Daisy felt shaky and near to tears, hyper-emotional every time she had to leave them. Plus she was still breastfeeding, which meant she had to express milk for their feeds, and wear pads inside her bra because her breasts leaked. Granted, the boys were gradually being weaned on to formula feed so she wouldn’t have to do it that much longer, but each day it seemed more of a struggle. Maybe Simon, her ex, was right: maybe she
