Lynda Plante - The Talisman

Harriet was staring into space and quite obviously not listening. Daisy battled on, her high-pitched voice getting slightly hysterical. ‘I say, have you seen anything of that Froggy chap you were engaged to? What was his name? You know that barn is still there. Oh, someone bought it and did it up, resold it for a fortune... do you live in town?’

Still Daisy got no response from Harriet. She couldn’t believe Harriet could be so rude. She gave a nervous laugh, patting her hair into place. ‘I’ll just go to the powder room. If Charlie comes, tell him I won’t be a moment.’

Daisy had to ease herself up, and pull down her dreadful dress. Suddenly, she turned angrily to Harriet. ‘I don’t know what I have ever done to you, Harry, but I was your friend, I’ve thought of you so often, even wished I could see you. You’ve changed, and if you don’t mind me saying, I think you are fucking rude...’ Daisy pushed her way to the ladies’ cloakroom.

Charlie brought Daisy’s drink to the table, hesitantly brushing his hair back with the palm of his hand. ‘Sorry I took so long but it’s freshly squeezed orange. She’s all right, isn’t she? Er... is it all right if I sit down?...’ He sat, and almost pulled the cloth off the table as he inched himself round on the velvet booth’s seat. ‘Whoops sorry...’

‘Are you happy, Charlie?’ Harriet asked him.

He appeared a trifle thrown by her question, then nodded his head. Harriet ordered a bottle of champagne and said she would go and look for Daisy.

She found her sitting in floods of tears on one of the small stools in the ladies’ powder room. ‘Oh, Daisy, Daisy, I am sorry, so sorry.’ Harriet sat next to her friend and hugged her close.

Daisy sniffed, and gulped back tears. ‘I’m being stupid, it’s just you look so beautiful, and I feel such a fat, dumpy idiot.’

Harriet wiped Daisy’s face with a paper tissue. ‘Daisy, you look lovely, you know a pregnant woman always looks radiant, didn’t you know that? You are lovely, with your little round tum...’

Daisy looked into her friend’s face. She knew instinctively something was very wrong. ‘What is it, Harry? Have you had that old trouble again? Have you been ill again?’

Harriet bit her lip, and her eyes filled with tears, she swallowed, and then pulled a tissue from the box and blew her nose. Daisy remained quiet, simply sitting close. Harriet reached for her friend’s hand and held it tight. She was like a schoolgirl again, and once she’d started she couldn’t stop. ‘Oh Daisy, sometimes I just don’t know what to do. I love him so much, and I try so hard to be what he wants. You know, I have spent hours at the beauty parlour today, the hairdresser, this bloody false hair, even my nails are false... I’m on these pills to keep me calm, and it’s like I’m wrapped in a cocoon, but I’m scared to stop taking them in case I have one of my turns... you see I’m not what he wants, not really...’

‘Oh rubbish, what do you mean not what he wants, even Charlie’s eyes were out on stalks when he saw you...’

‘You don’t understand.’

‘Well, why don’t you try me?’

Harriet began to pace up and down. She turned and stared at herself. ‘I never was one for all this kind of thing you know. I mean, I try, of course I do... but, right now he’s in his office and he’s with another woman, and I don’t know what to do about it... Daisy, tell me what to do.’

Daisy snapped her little gold evening bag closed. She wagged her finger. ‘Well for a start, Harriet Simpson, you’ve got to stop thinking like this... you just remember how that man hounded after you in France. He didn’t marry one of those bleached blondes out there with dangling earrings, he married you... now just you get back to being Harry. If he’s bonking some bloody woman...’

‘What?... bonking?’

‘Yes, it’s the latest slang for getting the old leg over... if he’s having a bit on the side, give him a wallop and get off those bloody pills, do you have to take them?’

Harry gripped Daisy’s hand tightly, desperately. ‘Oh God, you won’t tell him, will you? He doesn’t know about me.’

‘Oh don’t be stupid, I don’t even see you any more... you want my advice? You go out there and make sure that dish you hooked toes the line. If he won’t, give him that left upper cut you’ve got...’

Daisy was now well into the role of maternal know-all. Harriet laughed, and hugged her friend with such force she almost toppled off the stool. Daisy grabbed the dressing table. ‘And I thought you’d changed, you’re still as clumsy as ever, you know the only time I’ve ever seen you co-ordinated was when you were sitting on a horse. You remember that time you rode on to Daddy’s lawn and he chased you round with the hose?...’

Harriet shrieked, her hand over her mouth remembering the occasion. Daisy began pulling more tissues from the box to wipe away tears of laughter, recalling how her father had soaked everyone with the garden hose, he had been in such a rage... Harriet went quiet, her lips trembled as if she were going to cry. Instead, she gently touched Daisy’s big swollen stomach. ‘I don’t ride... not any more. Take care of your baby, take care of him...’

Daisy cupped Harriet’s chin in her hands. Her puffy face was serious with concern. ‘You know sometimes, Harry, it’s best to turn a blind eye; not all the time, but you know what I mean... your old man will have a lot of temptations with this place, but you’re his wife... he chose you. You love him, don’t you?’

Daisy felt as if she were talking to a child. There was a helplessness about her friend, a vulnerability that made her so touching... even more so when a single tear trickled down her face as she whispered, ‘I love him so, Daisy, I hurt inside, hurt so much sometimes I wish he’d never come back into my life. Do you feel that way about Charlie?’

Daisy laughed, ‘Good God, no... I just grabbed what I could get, and you should get out there before someone grabs what you’ve got...’

In five seconds Harriet was a different person. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, sniffed, and then did a comic Groucho Marx walk to the door. Daisy asked if she could have the name of her hairdresser as she rather fancied a similar false braid down her back. The next moment Harriet pulled off the hair switch and threw it across the room. Harriet winked, gave a small salute, and was gone.

Daisy picked up the hairpiece. The colour reminded her of Harriet’s chestnut mare, she wondered why Harry didn’t ride any more. The baby inside her kicked, and Daisy dropped the hairpiece into the bin, it was the wrong colour for her anyway.

Alex collided with Harriet as he came out of the office. Her hair was standing up on end, and he thought she was drunk. She gave him a dazzling smile. ‘Is he bonking that blonde in there?’ Without waiting for an answer, she entered the office. ‘Just what have you been up to, Mr Barkley?’ she said, her hands on her hips like Calamity Jane.

Edward walked round from his desk, and cocked his head to one side. ‘Well, Mrs Barkley, I could ask the same of you, you look as if you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards... come here, menace, right here and close your eyes.’

‘What have you done with the blonde?’

‘Ah, she’s in the filing cabinet. Now are you going to come here, or do I have to drag you?’

Edward pulled her to stand directly in front of him. He instructed her to close her eyes. She shut her eyes, and waited. She felt the warmth of his hands at her neck, and then something icy cold being draped around her. ‘This is an anniversary present, and it comes with my love... I love you, Harry... I love you.’

He held up a mirror in front of her so she could see the spectacular diamond necklace. His face was concerned, wanting her approval... The outrageous necklace was tasteless and meant nothing to her. The words ‘I love you, Harry’ made her feel as if he had given her the world. She lifted her hand and with the tips of her fingers traced his mouth. An electric shock ran through his body, he wanted to draw her close, but he couldn’t. He was held by the expression in her eyes. There was such pain, such fragility... so much love. Her soft, barely audible ‘thank you’ made him want to break the moment, as he could see her as she had been all those years before standing in the broken chapel with the tiny gold bracelet. He pulled her roughly into his arms, too shy, too afraid she would see such vulnerability in him. ‘Oh, my Harry, I’m so bloody proud of you, you are the best-looking woman out there, do you know that?’ He sniffed, not allowing himself to cry, and he joked. ‘Well, you were, what the hell have you done to your hair?’