The Snow Globe by Judith Kinghorn Page B

he’s known her all these years?”
    â€œYes, since long before he met me.”
    â€œI don’t want her to come . . . And I don’t think you know what you’re doing.”
    â€œPlease don’t be silly, Daisy. I know what I’m doing. Your father’s been working very hard and this is a little surprise for him,” said Mabel, glancing away. “It’s always lovely to see old friends.”
    A little surprise for him,
Daisy mused,
a little surprise
 . . . She felt hot, she felt sick and for a moment she thought she might faint. She grabbed hold of the mantelshelf. “When is she arriving?”
    â€œIn an hour or so, and I expect—”
    â€œAn hour!”
    Mabel stood up. She stepped toward Daisy and placed her hand on Daisy’s brow. “Oh my, but you’re feverish.”
    â€œI’m not feverish, Mother. I’m simply a little . . .”
    Daisy heard Mabel say something about sitting down, but as thelights began to flicker, her mother’s words were sucked out of the room, and then everything went black.
    It must have been a little while later, because Daisy had that sense of being more removed than she should have been from what came before. She could hear the voices. Her father was saying it looked nasty and her mother said it probably wasn’t as bad as it looked and that Nancy would tidy it up. But how could Nancy be expected to tidy up the snow?
    When Daisy opened her eyes, she was lying on her back on the tartan chaise longue in Mabel’s boudoir. Howard was seated on the cane chair next to her, leaning over her, stroking her brow. She pushed his hand away.
    â€œDodo,” he said, “what’s all this about, hmm? Your mother tells me that you don’t want anyone coming to stay . . . but it’s Christmas, your favorite time of year, and we always have people to stay at Christmas.”
    Iris and Lily stood next to Mabel: Lily watching intently with her arms folded, Iris smiling kindly and Mabel frowning.
    Daisy heard Lily whisper, “I really think you should send for the doctor . . . what with last night and then this.”
    Bloody Lily. She’d call out the doctor to attend to a midge bite.
    Daisy tried to sit up. “No, I don’t want any doctor. I don’t need a doctor. I’m fine,” she said.
    Mabel immediately moved closer. “Do lie down, dear. You’ve had a rather nasty fall.”
    That’s when Daisy felt the pain and lifted her hand to her head. Her hairline and forehead were wet, sticky, and when she looked at her fingers they were coated red.
    â€œYou fainted,” Howard said, watching her. “And as you fell you caught your head on the corner of your mother’s desk.”
    At that moment Nancy appeared clutching a bottle of iodine and a roll of white cotton. Howard stood back while Nancy bathed Daisy’s head, Nancy all the time looking back at Daisy and cooing, “Poor love . . . poor little lamb . . .”
    â€œWill it need stitches?” Howard asked, hovering.
    â€œNo, I don’t think so,” Nancy replied. Then, to Daisy, she said, “But I’m afraid you won’t be able to wash your hair for a few days. Not until that cut you’ve given yourself is all better, but I think I’ve got most of the blood out.”
    â€œNo, I don’t need a bandage . . .”
    â€œOh, but you do. Best keep it clean and protected.”
    â€œBut for how long?”
    â€œOnly a few days.”
    â€œOnly a few
days
! It’s Christmas . . . I can’t possibly go about with a bandage on at Christmas. I’ll look like an idiot—and in front of everyone . . . in front of . . .”
    Daisy didn’t and couldn’t finish the sentence. And it wasn’t the thought of wearing a bandage that made her dissolve into tears, though she