The Beachside Flower Stall

by Karen Clarke

  ‘People like Ruby,’ he said. ‘She’s good with them.’ He sounded slightly puzzled, as if he couldn’t quite grasp the concept. ‘Mr Flannery,’ he said, and it took me a second to realise he was introducing himself.

  ‘I’m her niece, Carrie.’ I wished he’d just take my money.

  ‘I like her, because she’s not competition.’ His mouth bent into an approximation of a smile.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, that since the sweet shop along the parade won an award a couple of months ago, hardly anyone buys their sweets from me.’ He sounded as sour as a lemon, and I suspected it wasn’t just the competition that had put people off.

  I reached for a Mars bar and laid it on the counter. ‘I’ll take that too,’ I said, mustering some sympathy. One of the reasons Cars 4 U had gone under was relentless competition from a rival. It was hard in the cut-throat world of business. ‘Nice to meet you,’ I added.

  ‘Looks like your takings are going to be down even more today.’ Mr Flannery was looking beyond me, a baleful gleam in his eyes.

  I spun around to look through the open door, in time to see two teenage boys hurrying away from the stall with masses of flowers pressed to their chests, heads twisting to check they hadn’t been spotted.

  ‘Oi!’ I cried, rushing out and giving chase, but there were too many people around and the boys were quickly swallowed by the crowd.

  ‘I think they went that way,’ said a man at a table outside Cooper’s Café, pointing to a side street. ‘Want me to go after them?’

  ‘No, don’t worry,’ I said, close to tears. ‘They’re only flowers.’

  I trudged back to the stall and stared at several empty buckets, with just an inch of water left in each.

  Now what?

  Figuring it was better than the truth, I told potential customers that everything had sold out, and it seemed an age until Calum returned to help me pack up what was left.

  Thoroughly fed up by the time we’d finished, I came to a decision.

  I would tell Ruby that things weren’t working out, and I was needed back in Manchester. She would have to either summon Jane back, or close the stall until she returned. I would email Megan and tell her to give the job to Jay Simmons, and head back to Manchester, and everyone could get on with their lives.

  Including me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bob the baker was at the foot of the stairs as I stepped through the door behind the bakery.

  ‘I’ve just taken some pastries up to your aunt,’ he said, easing past me in the small space. ‘I thought it might perk her up.’

  ‘Did it work?’ I said. If Ruby was up and about it would be much easier to break the news that I was leaving. After walking back from the stall, I’d sat in my car for ten minutes, rehearsing a speech I’d prepared in my head, but couldn’t get past the image of her sad, pale face, poking from under her duvet the evening I arrived.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he said, brow furrowed. His hair was dusted white with flour at the front, giving him a distinguished air. ‘She seemed a bit distracted.’

  That didn’t bode well. ‘Is she in bed?’

  His face grew even ruddier. ‘We weren’t… we haven’t, I mean, I wouldn’t…’ He seemed lost for words. ‘I respect your aunt too much to take advantage of her,’ he managed, pulling himself a little taller. ‘I hope she considers me a gentleman.’ He inclined his head next door. ‘And anyway, I’m still at work.’

  I realised too late the direction his mind had taken. ‘Oh god, no, I didn’t mean that. I wasn’t implying you’d’ – I couldn’t say ‘had sex’ – ‘been intimate,’ I said, like a prissy great-grandmother. ‘She’s been sleeping a lot lately, that’s all, and I just wondered whether she was up.’

  The tension visibly left Bob’s sturdy body. ‘She is,’ he said, with more than a little reserve.

  ‘That’s… good?’ I started climbing the stairs.

  ‘She wasn’t dressed.’

  I stopped and turned. ‘Not dressed?’

  ‘I don’t mean she had nothing on,’ he said, eyes wide with alarm, as if worried I might think he was imagining Ruby naked. ‘What I mean is…’

  I took pity on him. ‘It’s OK, Bob. I know what you meant.’

  ‘Oh, and tell her she can keep the calculator.’

  ‘Calculator?’

  But he’d already vanished, back to the safety of his loaves.

  I let myself into the flat rather gingerly, unsure what to expect. I’d got so used to Ruby being in her bedroom that it was a surprise to see her sitting at the table under the window, a delicious smell of cooking in the air.

  ‘I thought I’d make a casserole,’ she said, looking up from a pile of papers. ‘I don’t think you’ve eaten a proper meal since you arrived.’

  ‘It smells great,’ I said, my mouth watering. ‘You didn’t have to.’

  ‘I forget sometimes that cooking makes me feel better.’ Her eyes returned to whatever she’d been reading when I came in. ‘I’ve made a lemon cake, a fruit cake, some fairy cakes, a banana loaf and some chocolate Rice Krispie cakes, so there’s plenty of choice for dessert, and Bob’s just dropped off some pastries, if you fancy something while the potatoes are boiling.’

  ‘You have been busy,’ I said. There was a slightly manic air about her, as if once she’d started doing things she couldn’t stop. She was still swaddled in her dressing gown like a pupa, and her face looked inflamed.

  ‘Smells great,’ I said, unfastening my money belt and dropping it on the sofa. I crossed to the kitchen and turned down the gas beneath a bubbling pan of potatoes. The worktops were strewn with debris from her baking spree, and there were enough cakes cooling on racks to fill a bakery of her own.

  The weather was really too warm for a casserole, but Ruby was right; I hadn’t been eating properly, and I knew I needed my strength for the conversation that lay ahead.

  I washed my hands at the sink, and decided not to mention the stolen flowers.

  ‘I wondered if we could have a chat after dinner.’ I flicked the kettle on, and found two mugs. ‘If you’re not too tired.’

  ‘Come and chat now,’ said Ruby on a sigh. ‘I’ve had enough of crunching numbers.’

  I joined her at the table with a feeling of trepidation. ‘Numbers?’ I saw she’d been using a giant calculator that she must have borrowed from Bob, and there were lots of little biro-scribbled figures on a notepad.

  ‘I had a burst of energy earlier,’ she said, glancing at the cluttered kitchen. Her eyes widened, as if she’d just noticed the mess. ‘After I’d finished baking, I thought I’d make a start on some of the paperwork that’s piled up.’ She cast me a shamefaced look, and I tried to hide a guilty look, hoping she wouldn’t guess I’d already gone through it. ‘I know I’ve taken my eye off the ball, and it’s not fair to expect Jane to do everything, and I realise that you can’t stay forever’ – my stomach lurched – ‘but I’m starting to wish that I’d stayed in bed.’

  ‘Oh?’ I said carefully, smoothing a hand over my hair. The warm weather was making it frizz more than usual. I was embarrassed that Tom had seen me looking so ungroomed, and annoyed that I even cared. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘I’ve hardly any money left.’ Ruby tip-tapped her pen on the edge of the table. ‘I’m behind on the rent and some bills.’

  ‘Ah,’ I said, attempting a look of surprise.

  ‘How much did you take today?’

  I tried not to glance at the half-empty money belt on the sofa.

  ‘Not a lot,’ I said, adding swiftly, ‘I think people are more interested in the beach in this weather.’

  ‘At this rate, I won’t have a business to go back to.’ She cast her gaze down, her voice dropping to a whisper, as if the reality had just hit home. ‘I’m useless.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’ My hand shot out to cover hers. ‘You’re going through a rough patch, that’s all, but things are going to get better.’


  Air gushed from her nostrils. ‘How?’

  The Hudson Grange wedding. ‘I could pay your bills,’ I said, wondering why I hadn’t thought of it before. ‘I’ve got some money put by.’

  ‘Absolutely not.’ Ruby drew herself up like a puff adder and threw her pen down. ‘I won’t have any niece of mine bailing me out. I’d feel like an even bigger failure, thank you very much.’

  ‘It was just an idea,’ I said quickly, wondering if I could do it without her noticing.

  ‘And don’t think I won’t notice if you try,’ she warned. ‘I know what you’re thinking.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Well, no, I’m not psychic, but I can guess.’

  I released a sigh. ‘There is the wedding at Hudson Grange.’

  She gave me a look. ‘The job I told you to cancel?’

  ‘Y-e-e-es,’ I said. ‘Except, I didn’t.’

  Ruby narrowed her eyes. ‘Go on,’ she said, but I could tell she wasn’t annoyed.

  ‘It turns out they’re happy to pay above the odds for the short notice.’

  Her chin rose. ‘More than two thousand?’

  ‘Three and a half,’ I said, unable to help a smile breaking out as her eyes grew large. ‘It should tide you over for a bit.’

  Ruby slapped her palms on the table, making the papers – and me – jump. ‘Well, in that case, I’d better read the email you were going on about, and start thinking about what to order.’ Pushing her chair back she rose, more animated than I’d seen her to date. ‘Where’s my laptop?’

  ‘I put it back on charge.’

  ‘Let’s get it open, then.’

  Having set the wheels in motion, I now wanted to backtrack. Not only would I have to see Megan again, I hadn’t told Ruby I was competing for the job with a big-name London florist.

  ‘Shall we have dinner first?’ I made to get up, but Ruby placed her hands on my shoulders and gently pressed me down.

  ‘I’ll do it.’ She kissed the top of my head. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Carrie,’ she said, her grip tightening. ‘I reckon I’d still be in that bed if it wasn’t for you.’

  Moved, I lifted my hand to cover hers and twisted round to face her. I was overcome with shame that, just an hour ago, I’d been planning to leave her to it. ‘I haven’t really done much,’ I said.

  She shook her head. ‘Telling you about Donny has helped. I feel…’ she made a floaty gesture with her fingers, ‘lighter. And you’ve reminded me that I still have a business to run,’ she said. ‘I’m never going to meet my son, or my granddaughter, which means I’ll never really be happy’ – she held up a hand as I tried to speak – ‘but I can still work, and that has to mean something.’ Her eyes glazed with tears. ‘If a miracle happens, and Donny changes his mind one day and comes looking, he’ll see that I wasn’t a completely terrible person.’ She wiped the back of her hand across her cheeks. ‘I want to make my son proud.’

  ‘How could I leave, after that?’ I said later, to Jasmine. We were FaceTiming on our phones, because I couldn’t get to sleep. This was partly because I was still digesting a man-sized portion of chicken casserole and mashed potatoes, a doorstop wedge of lemon cake, and half a Danish pastry, and partly because I was dreading having to face Megan and Tom. Together. At Hudson Grange.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell her Bridezilla wants you to compete with another florist?’ Jasmine demanded, her delicate face filling the screen. With her cloud of Barbie-blonde hair and doll-like features she looked nothing like most people’s idea of a science teacher, and didn’t behave like one either, outside work. She believed people’s body clocks were set to the time they were born, so was at her best around 2 a.m. and thrived on very little sleep.

  ‘Because I’d already made it sound like a done deal.’ Feeling a waft of warmth from the open window, I flung my duvet off. ‘She looked so relieved in the end I couldn’t bring myself to tell her it might not happen.’

  ‘Well, you’ll just have to make sure you produce a masterpiece of a floral arrangement, so Bridezilla can’t say no.’

  ‘That’s a laugh, I wouldn’t know where to start.’

  Jasmine’s head bobbed down, and I could see from the fairy lights and rose-patterned wallpaper that she was in her room, which overlooked the back garden. I’d have given anything to be in my bedroom at that moment, traffic roaring past, wondering whether Jasmine was going to bring a man home, and whether I should put my earplugs in just in case.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I said, when her head reappeared. Her mascara was a black mass beneath her eyes and her lipstick was smudged. A horrible thought struck. ‘Have you got someone there?’

  ‘Just a little man,’ she said, in a theatrical whisper, shifting her phone so I could see a male body, face down on the bed beside her as though he’d been shot. His top half was naked, but at least he still had his jeans on.

  ‘He conked out as soon as he lay down,’ Jasmine said, swinging the phone back to her. ‘It’s all that plastering.’

  I frowned. ‘My plasterer?’ I said.

  She pressed a finger to her chin and made a naughty-girl face. ‘Ma-a-a-ybe.’

  ‘Jasmine!’

  ‘You said I should keep an eye on things here,’ she said, fluttering her spiky eyelashes. She was wearing the brilliant-blue contact lenses that made her look like a robot. ‘He’s just so fit, I couldn’t help myself.’

  ‘For god’s sake don’t wear him out, Jas, or he’ll never get the job done.’

  She giggled. ‘Have you bumped into your ex yet?’

  ‘He wasn’t an ex, we were friends,’ I protested, wondering why I bothered with the pretence. Everyone but Tom knew I’d been madly in love with him.

  ‘Yes, I have,’ I said, and quickly brought her up to speed.

  ‘Christ,’ she said when I’d finished. ‘So, Bridezilla is your ex-best friend, and she’s marrying the man you were in love with.’ She frowned ‘We’d better find you a date for this cosy foursome she’s planning.’

  ‘That’s totally not the point, Jas.’

  ‘What was that noise?’ She pushed her face to the screen. ‘Did you just trump?’

  ‘It was Ruby,’ I said, stifling a giggle. It sounded as if she was making balloon animals in her room. ‘She can’t stop.’

  Probably because she’d polished off seven Rice Krispie cakes after dinner, while jotting down ideas after reading Megan’s email. I’d pretended to watch TV, hot with guilt that I hadn’t told her the full story. ‘Anyway, I’ve more important things to think about than men.’

  ‘Shame, because I’ve already put you on My Single Friend.’ Jasmine sounded inordinately pleased with herself.

  ‘No-o-o-o.’ I groaned.

  ‘Oh, yes. Your password is carrieD123, with a capital D.’

  ‘Oh, Jas, you know I’m not into dating websites.’ I thrashed my head from side to side for effect. ‘Dating websites are full of perverts.’

  ‘Have you met them all?’

  ‘I don’t need to.’

  ‘You can be matched with someone in your area,’ she said. ‘There’s probably a lot less choice in Shipley, so men will be falling over themselves to take you out.’

  ‘Thanks, I think.’ I remembered the boyfriend I’d invented. ‘I don’t suppose there are any war correspondents in Shipley?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Did you write a profile too?’

  ‘Of course, but don’t worry, I’m always sensible on social media, even on someone else’s behalf.’

  Her teaching job prohibited her from writing anything salacious, which was probably just as well, considering her fantasy was to lick Nutella off Hugh Jackman’s abs.

  Her face took on a concentrated look that I recognised from when she was marking homework. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Mmm, don’t stop, babe,’ rasped a male voice. ‘That’s so good. Oh, yes, keep going, that’s ama-a-a-a-zing.’

  Jasmine dropped me a wink.
/>   ‘Are you?…’

  She nodded. ‘I’m massaging his—’

  ‘Don’t say it!’ I covered my eyes.

  ‘—shoulder,’ she said and gave a headmistressy tut. ‘You’ve got a dirty mind, Carrie Dashwood.’

  ‘I know what you’re like.’ I risked a glimpse through my fingers. ‘Tell him good night from me.’

  I ended the call and fretted for a while about the state of my kitchen, which I’d barely given a thought since being at Ruby’s. Then, determined to empty my mind and get a good night’s sleep, I pressed the relaxation app on my phone, and settled on a soothing waterfall sound.

  Ten minutes later, I had to get up for a wee.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Calum had set up the stall by the time I arrived the next morning, and was sitting in the van, eating a bacon roll.

  ‘Sorry,’ I panted. I hated being late, but I’d had a restless night, filled with bad dreams and heartburn, and had slept through my alarm. ‘Has Jools been?’ I said, recovering my breath as I peeked into the back of the van.

  Calum wiped grease off his chin with a paper napkin. ‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘Maybe she’s stuck in traffic.’

  Hmmm. According to Jane, the delivery was never late.

  ‘There’s not much stock left,’ I said, loath to mention that most of it had been stolen. When Calum had returned the day before, he’d made admiring comments about my sales prowess, and I couldn’t bring myself to disabuse him.

  ‘You could call our neighbour,’ he said, licking his fingers. ‘She’s got loads of flowers in her garden, and she could fetch some from ours too.’ He reached into the glove compartment for a pen and a piece of paper, and scribbled down a number. ‘Give her a ring if the delivery doesn’t turn up, which I’m sure it will.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said as he left, smiling when he blew a kiss at a strutting seagull.

  I looked up and down the stretch of road, but there was no sign of the little white Fiat I’d taken for granted would be there, just a delivery van outside the souvenir shop.