by Ruby Loren
“Did anyone read it before they signed?” Rich’s South African accent cut through the darkness. He sounded perpetually amused.
No one spoke up.
Fantastic. I was stuck on a course being described as ‘life or death’ with a group of people who didn’t read the fine print. I knew that I was included in that category, but it was hardly fair…
“Here we go!” Lorna announced once we were all standing in the dark room behind the stage, having forsaken our gadgets. With a dramatic flourish she pulled down a lever. A loud alarm sounded and the door we’d come through slid back onto place and a giant counter displaying fifty-two hours started counting down. Our guide grinned. “Time’s a ticking! We’d better get to our first challenge.”
As soon as she said it, the lights snapped on in the room. There was a man standing waiting by a row of tables.
“Welcome everyone. My name is Jack, and along with Lorna, we will be your guides on this first ever course of its kind. As my colleague just said, time is already running out. We must begin our first challenge, so if you can all find a work station, everything will be explained…”
We all shuffled into place. I noticed that the atmosphere was a lot more tense than it had been when we’d been introducing ourselves. However, I also felt that the egos had left the room. Everyone had been shaken up by the shocking start - which must not have explicitly been advertised when they’d signed up for the course. Now it felt like we were on a level playing field.
A screen that covered the entire wall in front of us snapped on.
“Hello? Can you all hear me?” a smiling older lady said, seeming to peer through the camera at us. “Hello?”
“Hello! We can hear you,” Jack said, before turning to face us. All of these videos have been prerecorded by our teachers, however, the latest technology has allowed us to make them fully interactive. If you have a question, just ask and you will receive a response.
“Oh, good! I just wanted to check this was working,” the kindly-looking lady on screen continued. “Welcome to the Fennering Bunker. I’m Emilia Payne - author and award-winning florist. As you are aware, you will be learning the intricacies of arranging flowers, and much more besides, over the next few days. Now, as your lovely guides have already mentioned, time is already running out, so I’m going to get straight on to your first challenge. We are going to begin with the basics. In front of you now there will be a vase and a pre-cut bouquet…” There was a mechanical whirring and everyone’s workspace opened up to reveal a vase and a posy, just as Emilia had described. “You will notice that all of the vases and flowers are different from one another. You will be placing these pre-cut flowers in the vase correct for their height. Bouquets should be about one and a half times the height of the container they are in. However, when you find there may be more than one option available to you, you may also want to consider the size of your container’s opening and the type of bouquet you are trying to display.” Her eyes twinkled. “You will soon discover that, whilst you will be honing your individual skills, the group will advance as a team, and this particular exercise must be completed as a team. Work together, make the correct choices, and you will advance to the next challenge.”
Emilia stopped speaking and stood, seeming to watch patiently with her hands folded in her lap.
“Hey, what if we need the loo?” Rich asked, grinning and cocking an eyebrow around. “Just saying! I hope the smart guys who designed this course have thought of that little detail.”
Emilia smiled. “That is an excellent question. Washroom facilities will always be accessible. They are either located in the challenge rooms through a separate door, or close by on a route that will open for you, should you wish to use the facilities.”
“Well… thank goodness for that!” Rich said, still grinning.
I looked down at the stubby bouquet of mauve flowers and the long and slender vase I’d been left with. They certainly weren’t the correct partners. I reached out and picked up the bouquet. I didn’t recognise the flowers themselves, but I was already all-too aware that there were still gaping holes in my floriculture knowledge. They were short and had thick stems but fairly large heads. I was looking for a stout container, and not a large one. I cast my eyes around the room and saw a beaten copper cauldron sitting in front of Rich Strauss. With great trepidation I walked over and plonked in the bouquet.
“Looks good to me,” he said, flashing me a white grin. “Where do you think these go?” he asked, showing me a fat bunch of eucalyptus and greenery, with some autumnal blackberries and rose hips giving a splash of colour.
We looked around together and discovered others were doing the same. I could already see one other bouquet had been placed and primped by Tanya. She looked up and smiled at Rich, flashing her teeth.
Not everyone was doing so well.
Christine was trying to place her long-stemmed larkspur into a tall vase whilst Eamon shook a fistful of amaryllis in her face. It was clear that they had reached an impasse - just as Emilia had predicted. I spied another tall vase, but with a wider opening, in front of a bewildered-looking Duncan.
“How about this?” I said, entering the fray with the new vase. “Amaryllises have thick stems. They would cope better with a wider-topped vase. Larkspurs could just flop everywhere.” I knew that much from hard-learned experience.
Eamon considered the new vessel I held in my hands. “Yes, well, I suppose you could be right,” he said and tentatively placed the amaryllis flowers in the vase.
“They look good,” I said, shooting him a smile.
Christine triumphantly primped her larkspur arrangement, a smug smile on her face for all to see. “Tut, tut! You should always know when to listen to your superiors. I have a degree in structural engineering. I could match flowers to vases in my sleep.”
I bit my lip to keep from commenting and happened to meet the eyes of a startled looking Rich. We’d been told that this entire course was built on teamwork, but it would appear that some people didn’t play nicely with others - even during the first challenge.
For the most part, we all helped one another. The only real struggle we had at the end was when we discovered we had one more vase than we had bouquets. That led to some heated discussion as to whether several of our choices were actually correct. Our dilemma was solved when Fergus dropped the vase that the majority had hated, but a minority were arguing was perfect for an equally ugly flower-arrangement.
“Whoops!” he said, dropping me a wink when no one else was looking. I shut my eyes and prayed that this interactive course had taken someone like Fergus into account. Otherwise, that broken vase could mean we were stuck in this tiny room for the next fifty-two hours. That would be plenty of time to tell Fergus exactly what I felt about this entire mess he’d dragged me into… and all because he’d wanted to look for little green men!
With a complete lack of aplomb, Fergus dumped the ugly bouquet into the remaining container.
We all turned back to Emilia to learn our fate, having displayed the vases and bouquets on the front table. She narrowed her eyes and seemed to take them in.
“Well, well! You’ve all been listening. All of these bouquets are correctly placed. You will have noticed that there was a surplus container. It was included as a red herring. You quite rightly observed that it held no water inside it - thus making it not suitable to hold a bouquet at all! It is an ancient milk jug that was dug up on the land Fennering Bunker was built on. The course organisers and I thought it would be a nice idea to include some of our ancient history to add a little zest to this challenge.” Her eyes looked fondly at the table where, presumably, her pre-recorded form believed there would be a milk jug amongst the line-up.
Everyone turned to look at Fergus.
He cleared his throat. “Ah, yes… come to think of it, there was no water inside. I forgot flowers like water. On the plus side, at least it’s just shards to clear up. No messy water…”
I shut my ey
es for a moment even while the door opened to lead us through to the next room and the next challenge. The course organisers had designed everything with both beginners and experts in mind. However, they hadn’t accounted for Fergus. I wondered if he would end up being our undoing or our salvation.
Fortunately, the next two challenges were fairly idiot-proof. There were no similar reprises of the milk jug incident and everyone was in a fairly confident mood when we were released from the maze of rooms. We were informed the area we’d arrived in was the dinner hall and also the site of our rooms. We were allowed fifteen minutes to settle in, freshen up, and take our luggage from the main hall to our rooms before the bell rang to inform us that lunch was ready to be served.
“Welcome to your third challenge,” a voice announced. We all turned to discover a screen sliding down across the hall from us. The top of the table in front of the screen smoothly lifted off to reveal a row of sandwiches, cakes, and pastries. A man in a chef’s hat smiled around at us all.
“So far, you’ve had it easy…” he began, even as Fergus walked up to the table to inspect the offerings.
“You’re right about that!” Christine sniped, examining her manicured nails with a smirk on her face. Next to her, Bella and Duncan looked crestfallen. I noticed Lady Isabella shot the prestigious designer a scathing look, but being a well-bred lady, she didn’t stoop to pass comment.
“…but now the stakes are much higher. In front of you, is a delicious spread of food for your lunch. All of these culinary creations are botanically inspired. You will find flowers and plants have been used in each. In front of the dishes on display is a small sample of the plants or flowers used in each of the dishes. Only…” he paused for dramatic effect. “…one of them is poisonous.”
There was the sound of someone loudly choking. Fergus turned around from the table, his mouth full of fairy cake.
4
Flying Saucers
“Has he been poisoned?” Sylvia whispered, sounding freakishly intrigued by the prospect. There was some truth to what they said about some old ladies having a fascination with all things morbid.
I strolled over to the table and glanced at the flower sample on the plate in front of the cakes Fergus had got stuck into without waiting.
“What’s the prognosis, Doc? Am I going to die?” he asked.
It was the sideways smile that made me do it.
“Bad news. It’s deadly nightshade.”
Fergus’ eyes widened. His smile vanished. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?” he whispered.
“They’re violet flowers. You’re fine. But I hope you learned your lesson,” I told him, feeling like the long-suffering parent of a very badly behaved child.
Fergus looked at the half-eaten fairy cake in his hand. After a second of further thought, he popped it into his mouth and took another. “Dig in everyone! This pile is good to go.”
The man on the screen continued as if nothing exceedingly idiotic had happened. “The poison in question is not deadly, however, it will certainly give you a bad stomach, so keep your eyes peeled! I’m sure some of you will be thinking: ‘But this is flower arranging! Why would I need to know about poisonous plants?’ and I am going to give you an answer to that question. When we create flower arrangements, we must always keep our clients in mind. While no one would expect a client to eat an entire bouquet - unless that’s your selling point - it is important to know if you are including any truly harmful plants in order to inform clients and any who might be affected.” He smiled. “Now… one of you has some experience of edible and poisonous plants, so I will be leaving you in her capable hands. I hope that she will share her knowledge with all of you. I mentioned that this is higher stakes, and as you already know, this course favours team work. In this particular challenge, you will be relying on the strengths of one of you to keep you all safe. There will be no check and correct at the end of this, so identify and eat with care. Good luck!”
I glared at Fergus who was still stuffing cakes into his mouth.
“What?! I’m hungry! There weren’t any good biscuits with the coffee and it was ages ago. I’d have packed a lunch if I’d known there was a risk of being poisoned,” he protested.
I turned to look at Sylvia, the author of The Evolution of Edible Flowers and the woman the man on screen had surely been referring to. She walked over to the table and then beckoned me.
“Just between us, dear, my eyesight is not what is used to be! I know I wrote Poisonous Plants of the British Isles, but I can’t actually see half of these little flowers and leaves. Do you think that you might be able to pick the bad one from the bunch? You know about edible flowers, don’t you?” Sylvia whispered to me.
I looked at the row of flowers and food in front of us. I’d already spotted the violets, Dahlia petals, and mint leaves, but there were a few others I had questions about. The first was a plate of innocuous-looking red berries. I walked over and picked one up. It wasn’t a redcurrant, that was for sure, but it could still be edible. As I child, I’d been taught not to eat red berries, but I knew it was just a safety precaution. Not all wild red berries were poisonous and it was often berries that were darker or lighter colours that were far more risky.
“Look at the leaves,” Sylvia said, following me closely.
“I’m not that good at berry identification,” I muttered. I was a floriculturist, and not an experienced one at that. But, as I looked closely, I thought I did recognise the plant the berry had originated from by its distinctive leaf. “Is it rowan?” I asked a little tentatively.
Sylvia nodded. “I think so. They are naughty to slip this one in. It’s a real red herring. They won't have just used the berries as they are, I’m sure it's rowan berry jam in those sponge cakes.”
I looked despondently along the row of plates with their questionable samples. Whoever had designed this little challenge had relied upon Sylvia being the one to do this. Were we all going to end up poisoned because of me? I reassured myself that we’d been told it wouldn’t be fatal. But that didn’t mean the others wouldn’t kill me if I got this wrong…
Hang on. What was that innocuous looking green and yellow plant? I walked over and looked at the slim green leaves and green-yellow blooms that weren’t exactly un-leaf-like in their appearance either. “That’s a spurge,” I muttered, thinking out loud for the most part.
“Euphorbia?” Sylvia said, overhearing me. “Oh, those rotters! That’s some nasty stuff. I supposed on the plus side, it’s reputed to taste so bitter that one wouldn’t persist in eating it for long. Baked into shortbread or otherwise.” She inclined her head towards the plate of biscuits that I knew I certainly wouldn’t be touching.
“Don’t be so sure about that.” I was thinking of Fergus when I said it. In one decided movement, I picked up the plate of biscuits and dumped them in the bin. “Was spurge in your poisonous plants book?” I asked Sylvia. Her book on edible flowers had merely carried a few precautions about lookalike varieties that could be mistaken for edibles and then a few varieties of flowers within edible flower families that couldn’t, or shouldn’t, actually be eaten. I knew about sun spurge in particular because it insisted on growing on my land. I’d toyed with the idea of incorporating it into bouquets before learning even the sap was an irritant.
“It was in the poison plant book I wrote,” she confirmed. “I meant it as a sort of diagnostic manual for parents with children who have curious fingers and mouths, however, I don’t think that’s the only market who bought it. It was really rather successful,” the elderly lady said, looking a little troubled.
I silently wondered if there was a correlation between her book’s release and any rise in poisonings in the country. I decided I probably didn’t want to find out.
We stuck with the basics of floristry during the afternoon, but even the basics were hard to master. Those who’d walked in with large egos and extensive previous experience were forced to assist others or watch the group sink. And even th
ey didn’t always get it right. I was especially smug when Christine’s snapdragon and sea lavender arrangement was criticised for being fuddy-duddy. Whomever had designed this course had obviously been expecting some of the attendees to have some pretty old-fashioned flower arranging ideas. She was told to mix things up a bit and resubmit by the virtual teacher. When that didn’t fly with Christine, Bella stepped in and jazzed the arrangement up a little by adding some curling ivy and eucalyptus accents. This was praised and the group moved on.
In spite of the grumbles of a few of the group when their work was criticised, all of our actions seemed to have been accounted for… with the notable exception of Fergus. I’d never seen a virtual recording falter so many times than when faced with Fergus’ questions and everything he produced. In the end, I’d taken to finishing my own task and then forcing whatever he was working on into submission.
“But I like what I’m doing!” Fergus said when I stopped him from trying to combine bright red chrysanthemums with yellow and pink snapdragons. It wouldn’t have been so bad if this challenge hadn’t been focusing on tasteful colour combinations. A single stalk of eucalyptus and a green spiky fern had also been added haphazardly to the vase.
“It’s either a fabulous work of modern art or a complete disaster,” I told him, knowing which one I was leaning towards. “You don’t want to learn flower arranging. You’re not even giving it a chance! You’re just here to find evidence of aliens.”
“That’s not true!” Fergus protested. “I’m also here for the food. It’s supposedly been created by a top chef. Poisoning aside, it has been pretty good.”
I rolled my eyes. “You could at least pretend to be trying.”
“I am trying! This beautiful bouquet is exactly what’s needed to shake the floral world up a bit. Just watch…” Before I could stop him, he marched over to the display podium and plonked his vase down to be judged.