Emma Heatherington - Crazy For You

Daisy dabbed the black mascara rings under her eyes with a facial wipe from her suitcase and made a mental note to remind Eddie he was from Donegal, not downtown L.A. The wipe smelt funny and she realised it was one for warning off mosquito bites. Chance would be a fine thing.

“Hey, Ed. Come on. Don’t be like that. We do catch up from time to time. I only emailed you last week, didn’t I?”

“Forwarding jokes to me in San Francisco doesn’t count for correspondence, Daisy. I haven’t seen you in almost four goddamn years and I desperately need to talk to you. Is it OK if I come over?”

Daisy plonked herself down on top of the bulky suitcase, ignoring the discomfort of the bulging bag of toiletries she threatened to destroy under her posterior. To give him his dues, Eddie always had amateur dramatics down to a fine art. But Eddie couldn’t just ‘come over’. He lived a million miles away, for goodness sake. This was serious. Or was it? With Eddie, most of the time, it was very hard to tell.

“Sure. Fly over right away. Ed. I’ll see you in about ten or twenty hours’ time. At least I’ll be dressed by then.”

Eddie gave out a dramatic deep sigh.

“Em, well, you see I’m sort of… I’m, I’m actually outside your apartment.”

“What???!”

“I’m in the car park. Sorry, Daisy. I can come back later if now doesn’t suit…”

Daisy raced to the window. She couldn’t see any desperado loners lurking about, and as usual the quiet suburban apartment block was as silent as a graveyard. Everyone else in the world was at work after all.

Or on holiday.

“Very funny. You really had me there, Mr America. I am actually standing here like a prat, looking out of my window for you. Good one.”

“I know you are. I can see you. You’re wearing what looks like a huge red, fuzzy blanket. Look over here. I’m in the yellow car.”

Daisy gulped. Was he serious? A canary-coloured Mini Cooper convertible shone boldly like a beacon among the scattered vehicles in the cobbled Stranmillis car park. It had to be his.

Small, brassy and as gay as Christmas.

A long arm waved out of the driver’s side window, which even from a height and through pouring rain was noticeably perma-tanned and laden with bling.

“I don’t believe it! When did you get home? Come on, come on up quickly.”

“You’re a darling, Daisy Anderson,” said Eddie with new rigour. “I’ll be with you in two shakes and all will be revealed.”

Daisy flicked the switch on the kettle and then immediately changed her mind. This wasn’t a tea or coffee moment. This was an occasion. It wasn’t every day an old friend like Eddie turned up unexpectedly like this. She would treat him to a slap-up brunch at Deane’s Brasserie and pretend she was as lively and sophisticated as the place itself. Plus, she once snogged one of the waiters and she wouldn’t mind another glimpse of him while she was there.

She quickly grabbed a bottle of sparkling white wine from the fridge and set out two of her finest champagne flutes – her only champagne flutes, and uncorked the bottle with a feeling of teenage rebellion.

Fumbling through her own and then Lorna’s CD collection, she quickly settled on a George Michael compilation. That should make him feel at home, she thought, congratulating herself at how considerate she’d become in her late twenties.

The doorbell finally buzzed and Daisy ran towards it, laden with celebratory drinks to welcome her childhood neighbour into her humble abode.

“Come in if you’re good looking,’” she shouted into the intercom and sat the drinks on the phone table. She then bounded towards the doorway and wrapped her arms and legs around Eddie’s muscular frame as soon as he crossed the threshold.

“You have been working out, my boy. What an unbelievable hunk!” She smothered his cheek in kisses knowing it would turn his guts. “And a real Californian tan to match. Yum.”

Eddie almost buckled under Daisy’s tight grasp and lifted a glass of wine from behind her back.

“You could at least have got dressed,” he said jokingly in a transatlantic drone. “You weren’t going to go on holiday like that, were you?”

Daisy let go of Eddie’s brown neck and took a gulp of her wine. She tugged him eagerly by his snow-white t-shirt into her living room before answering.

“Actually, I was due to fly out to Salou today for a week in the sun with my room-mate Lorna, but then the damn holiday company went bust at the last-minute and now…”

“I know.”

“Oh, “she said. “Duh, I suppose the sullen suitcase is a bit of a give-away…”

Eddie sat down and flicked through a glossy magazine before eventually meeting Daisy’s eye.

“No, I know about your holiday plans falling apart.”

“How?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I have all day. It’s not like I have a plane to catch or anything.”

Daisy curled her feet underneath her and watched as Eddie flung the magazine into a chrome rack by the television and braced himself.

“Well, you see…” He cleared his throat, as Daisy thought, for added effect. He never could tell a story and get straight to the point.

“I see …,” nodded Daisy.

“It’s…well, it’s my Mum,” he said, avoiding her eye. “By the way, what is this wine? It’s quite good.”

“It’s white and cold, that’s all I know. What about your mum? Don’t tell me it’s…”

Eddie took his time to answer and drained back the dregs of his glass like he was swallowing nails.

“It’s come back, Daisy,” he murmured, and stared out of the window onto the roof of the opposite apartment block. “The cancer’s back.”

Now it was her turn to sigh. She felt her heart hit the floor, bounce back up into her mouth, then settle to form a huge lump in her throat.

“Oh, Eddie, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t know. When?” Daisy moved towards her friend and draped her arm around his shoulder. He smelled flowery and fresh. Not manly in the slightest, but nice and clean all the same.

“She’s riddled with the bastard. I just found out yesterday. She, er, she doesn’t have very long.”

Daisy watched Eddie’s eyes fill up with tears and she felt the same overwhelming urge to comfort and protect him as she did when they were at high school and the other kids taunted him for his feminine ways. She hugged him tightly, letting his hot tears fall onto her face, his sun-bleached hair brushing softly against her cheek.

“Is she at home?” asked Daisy when his gentle sobbing subsided.

“Yes. She’s at home for the rest of her time, whatever that means. We wouldn’t have it any other way and your mum has agreed to help nurse her through it. She told me about your non-holiday.”

Eddie fought within him to hold back tears.

“This is awful,” said Daisy. “Were you still in America when you found out?”

He shook his head.

“Well, it’s was a bit of a fluke, really,” he said. “I wanted to surprise our Jonathan for his birthday and got a great last-minute deal on a flight home yesterday, but instead I arrived, full of Happy Birthdays, only to hear the worst news possible.”

Daisy retraced the events of the past few days. She had been so wrapped up in her own self pity that she just about managed to text her own mother the day before to inform her of her ruined holiday after the holiday company had crashed at the eleventh hour. If she’d bothered to phone home more often she would have known all about this and would have raced there straight away, instead of worrying about a lack of warm water or a range of wasted bikinis and flip-flops with the labels still on them.