Free Staying at Daisy's by Jill Mansell

down the front of her sweatshirt. Luckily, being her designated staying-in-and-getting maudlin sweatshirt, it was used to being slopped on.
    ‘No, no, no . I meant it in a nice way. It’s a compliment! Maggie has the loveliest life of anyone I know, and from now on I want to be just like her. I’m going to start making jam and sewing things and listening to The Archers and baking cakes.’
    ‘Fantastic.’ Daisy kept a straight face.
    ‘I’m going to give up nightclubs,’ Tara was warming to her theme, ‘and take up tapestry.’
    ‘Oh, good grief, now I need a drink too,’ exclaimed Maggie, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with a chilled bottle of Frascati and two more glasses. ‘All this fuss over some silly ex-boyfriend you didn’t even care about. Daisy, red or white?’
    ‘But that’s the whole point,’ Tara argued. ‘If someone you don’t even care about can cause this much trouble, think what could happen if it was someone you were madly in love with! I’m telling you, I’m better off out of the whole thing. Go on then, I’ll try the white now you’ve opened it.’
    ‘You won’t be able to drink like this when you’re a professional spinster,’ said Daisy. ‘You’ll end up baking the tapestries and sewing the jam.’
    ‘How did the wedding go?’ Maggie sat cross-legged on the rug in front of the fire. ‘Everything run smoothly in the end?’
    Daisy pulled a face. ‘Well, they got married.’
    ‘I don’t know why he’s bothering,’ Tara snorted. ‘He’ll only cheat on her.’
    ‘I could hazard a guess.’ Daisy’s tone was dry. ‘He’s probably bothering because she’s just inherited a few million. Her father was big in knickers, apparently.’
    ‘So she’s loaded. No wonder he married her. Oh well.’ Tara sighed and pulled the sleeves of her black sweatshirt over her knuckles. ‘That’s something to be grateful for, I suppose. At least nobody’s ever going to want to marry me for my money.’
    ‘Speaking of fathers.’ Eager to get Tara off the subject of Dominic, Maggie turned to Daisy. ‘How’s your dad? When I bumped into him outside the shop the other day he told me he’d done something to his knee.’
    ‘It’s fine again now.’ Daisy rolled her eyes. ‘When I left the reception he was still dancing away, charming the slingbacks off all the women there. Do you know, they were actually arguing over who was next in line for a dance? And the bride’s mother was foxtrotting around the room with him looking the picture of smugness. Honestly, she was like a whale wrapped up in a shiny purple shower curtain. Oh God,’ Daisy groaned at the thought, ‘and she’s a stinking rich widow, probably on the lookout for husband number two. Poor Dad, what chance does he have? By the time I get back she’ll have carted him off to Gretna Green.’
    Laughing, Maggie topped up their glasses. ‘I’m sure your father can look after himself.’
    ‘She had an awfully determined glint in her eye. And huge long purple nails.’
    ‘Speaking of nails,’ Tara raised her head in order to rejoin the conversation, ‘why did that best man look familiar? I know I don’t know him, but I’m sure I’ve seen him before.’
    ‘Dev Tyzack,’ Daisy explained for Maggie’s benefit. ‘He used to play rugby for Bath and England. He retired last year. But I don’t see what he has to do with nails.’
    ‘He’s as hard as nails. As mean as nails. All sharp and pointed and horrible, and I’d love to hit him on the head with a hammer.’ At the sight of their blank faces, Tara shrugged and slumped back down on the sofa. ‘Oh well, it made sense to me.’
    ‘Dev Tyzack.’ Maggie was visibly impressed. ‘He is rather gorgeous.’
    Tara curled her lip. ‘Shame he doesn’t have a personality to match.’ She looked at Daisy. ‘So did you have to apologize to him?’
    ‘I did. But I made sure he knew I didn’t mean a word of it.’
    ‘And he was OK about that?’ Tara raised