Chasing Daisy

mourners listening intently to the reading. ‘I don’t understand,’ I continue.
    ‘Maybe it’s because of his job,’ Luis whispers. ‘Isn’t his brother an important banker or something?’ A woman in front of us shuffles in her seat and tuts.
    ‘What about his sister?’
    ‘High-flying lawyer?’
    ‘ Would you be quiet ?’ the woman in front of us turns around and hisses before facing forward again. I stare at the back of her head, nonplussed. I’m back in someone else’s body again. She can’t hurt me. No one can.
    More prayers, another reading . . . What should I have for dinner tonight? I feel like I haven’t eaten in days. I haven’t eaten in days! A woman takes to the stand at the front of the church. Who’s this, now? I wonder indifferently. And then she turns around, and even though her face is half-covered with black netting, I know instantly that it’s Laura.
    ‘I’ve known – sorry, I knew William most of his life . . .’
    She called him William?
    ‘. . . and he was the kindest, sweetest, most loyal guy you could ever meet . . .’
    My fingernails are digging into my palms. I wonder if I can draw blood?
    ‘I hated the racing. I always hated it. And William knew that. It’s why he forgave me for my absence at so many Grands Prix. But he loved it. With all his heart and soul he loved racing so much, and I loved him. I still love him. I’ll always love him.’
    Her voice breaks and she puts her head down as her body starts to shake with silent sobs.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologises, her voice unsteady. ‘He died doing what he loved best . . .’ She can’t finish her sentence. She collapses into sobs again as Will’s brother steps up to the altar to lead her away. The church echoes with the sound of people weeping.
    What am I doing here? I shouldn’t be here. I can’t be here. Suddenly I’m on my feet and rushing out of the church, not caring that the doors will bang behind me. I run, run, run down the gravel path to the gate.
    ‘Daisy!’
    Luis grabs my arm to stop me, spinning me around.
    ‘No, no, no!’ I shout. ‘NO!’ My knees buckle beneath me and I crumble as Luis tries to hold me up.
    ‘What did you say to him?’ I cry. ‘What did you say to him before the race?’
    ‘Daisy, now is not—’
    ‘Tell me!’ I claw at his arms as I try to tear him away from me. ‘Tell me, right now!’
    He looks overwrought. ‘It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t mean to upset him!’
    I stare at him and take deep breaths, one after the other. When I finally speak, my voice sounds deadly calm. ‘What. Did. You. Say.’
    ‘I was angry with him. Over his treatment of you.’
    ‘Go on.’
    ‘I was angry because he hadn’t told Laura about you.’
    ‘Why?’ I snap. ‘I was okay with that!’
    ‘Were you?’ He gives me a hard stare.
    ‘What else did you say? What exactly did you say?’
    ‘I told him . . . I thought he was . . . a prick.’
    ‘How could you? ’ I feel like something has just rushed through my head. Suddenly white rage fills every pore in my body. ‘YOU KILLED HIM!’ I find myself screaming. ‘YOU! IT WAS YOUR FAULT!’ I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience as I start to slap at him, pummelling his chest and his arms.
    ‘Stop!’ he shouts, trying to calm me down.
    ‘GET AWAY FROM ME!’ I scream, backing away. ‘I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!’
    And then I turn and run. I don’t know where I run, but I can’t stop. Tiny shop windows blur past me as I run down narrow streets lined with cream stone buildings. I run across a bridge and I am vaguely aware of punters on the river below as I leave the city centre and enter a green field opposite one of the picture-postcard college buildings. Exhausted, I come to a stop in front of an enormous oak tree and collapse down on the dirt between its roots. And then I cry. I cry until I feel like I have no more tears left in me.
    ‘Are you okay, miss?’
    I look up to see a man in his forties walking by with a brown and white springer spaniel.
    ‘I’ve lost my boyfriend,’ I find myself telling him.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ he says. ‘He’ll come back.’
    I nod and smile and let him go on his way, then stare ahead in shock.
    I don’t know what time it is. The funeral will be over by now. I guess I’d better find the bus station. But I don’t want to go back to my flat. I don’t want to go to Holly’s. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be anywhere.
    I have no one. No one. No