The Beachside Flower Stall

by Karen Clarke

  Not Tom then. ‘No other message?’

  Bob pursed his lips as though trying to work out what I wanted him to say. ‘Nope,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’

  To my relief, the car started first time, with a gentle purring sound.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t mind driving?’ said Toby, putting the flower-pups on the back seat and adjusting the passenger seat to accommodate his long legs. He’d explained that his wife was using their car that night, to go to a support group – though he didn’t say what type of support. ‘I’m happy to pay for a cab.’

  ‘You’re doing me a favour, remember?’ I said. ‘And, anyway, it’s not far.’

  ‘I can direct you there,’ he said. ‘Em and me did the paintwork at Off the Hook.’

  ‘Nice food?’

  ‘I don’t know, it hadn’t opened then,’ he said. ‘To be honest, it’s a bit out of my price range.’

  ‘Don’t worry, tonight’s on me.’

  ‘We can split the bill,’ he said.

  ‘Show me the Monet!’ We spoke at the same time and then chuckled with embarrassment.

  Toby looked over his shoulder. ‘Who are your creepy friends?’ he said.

  I glanced in the rear-view mirror, where I could see the flower-pups peeping out of the bag. Bride-pup had lost an eye, and groom-pup’s nose was missing. They both looked thoroughly fed up.

  ‘They’re my lucky mascots.’ Though harbingers of doom would have been more appropriate, considering everything that had happened since taking them from Ruby’s.

  ‘Each to their own,’ Toby said with a grin.

  It felt odd having a virtual stranger in my car, but my nerves were outweighed by a feeling of dread about the evening ahead. I’d fully expected Megan to cancel, but as she hadn’t called, I’d had to assume she and Tom were going to be there.

  The day had passed in a haze of anxiety. I’d kept on glancing at my phone, before remembering that neither Tom nor Megan had my mobile number. Then I kept checking the work phone for messages, and making sure it was working. At one point I almost rang Tom, but after I’d pleaded with him to carry on as normal, it didn’t seem fair to ask him to ask Megan to call off the meal, especially as I’d agreed to go. With any luck, he’d have an animal emergency at the last minute and wouldn’t be able to attend.

  ‘You look nice.’ Toby said it as he would to a sister – or a friend.

  ‘Thanks.’ I was glad I didn’t look like the dowdy flower-seller Megan probably had me pegged for.

  Calum had finished work early, and when he turned up at the stall I’d asked him to hold the fort, while I zipped into a clothes shop called Sassy Lassie on Main Street. After picking out some knee-length denim shorts, a few stripy tops in nautical colours, and a pair of espadrilles, my eyes had alighted on a knee-grazing, sleeveless dress with a crossover neckline, in a flattering shade of blue. Unwilling to leave it to chance, I’d tugged it over my head in the tiny changing room, liking the way it gathered at the waist, and flared over my hips. It even complemented my hair, and once I’d straightened it – watched over by Ruby, who approved of me going out with ‘that nice young man who walked you home’ – and covered my sunburnt nose with foundation, darkened my eyelids a smoky-grey, and stuffed my feet into another pair of shoes from Ruby’s collection, I barely recognised myself.

  ‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ I said, grating the gears as Toby indicated I turn right at the junction and drive along the seafront.

  In truth, I’d barely noticed, but a surreptitious glance confirmed he’d scrubbed up nicely, in light-coloured trousers and a muscle-hugging shirt a shade lighter than his copper hair. He smelt good too; like cinnamon and leaves.

  ‘So how do you want to play this evening?’ He rubbed his hands on his thighs. ‘Do you want to make her jealous?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ I said. The idea of Megan being jealous of me was laughable. ‘Maybe we should play it by ear.’

  ‘And if they ask about my work?’

  ‘Just say you’re having a break and would rather not talk about it.’ I’d looked up ‘a day in the life of a war correspondent’ on my phone earlier, but logged off when I saw the words ‘government convoy’ and ‘shot in the head’, feeling guilty.

  ‘I googled “a day in the life of a war correspondent” earlier,’ Toby said, with a bashful grin. ‘Just in case.’

  I gave a wry smile. ‘I should have picked something less… dangerous.’

  ‘Like painter and decorator?’

  I caught his eye. ‘Exactly.’

  His gaze was understanding. ‘I get that you were trying to impress her.’

  ‘Pathetic, when you put it like that.’

  ‘We’ve all done it,’ he said. ‘When I first met Em, I pretended to like the same music she did, even though I’d never heard of Charanga.’

  ‘Charanga?’

  ‘It’s Cuban dance music, apparently.’

  ‘Oh god.’ I snorted with laughter.

  ‘It turned out she was winding me up,’ he said. ‘She really liked the Sugababes.’

  I couldn’t help noticing how animated he was when talking about his wife – which boded well for them getting back together at some point.

  ‘It’s here,’ he said, almost too late, and I was honked at by the car behind us as I veered wildly into a space at the side of the road. ‘Sorry about that.’

  The restaurant was only a stone’s throw from the sandy beach, and flanked by dunes and a boatyard. It had floor-length windows, and a terrace overlooking the sea, where several diners were admiring the view.

  ‘Nice,’ I said, wishing the journey had been longer. Now we’d arrived I immediately wanted to leave.

  ‘Come on, it’ll be fine,’ said Toby, flicking my arm. ‘We’ll show that Megan how fantastic you are, and that Tom bloke what he’s missing, and then you never have to see them again.’

  ‘Except when I help my aunt deliver their wedding flowers.’

  ‘Maybe she could find someone else to help with that.’

  ‘You make it all sound so reasonable.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t have to be complicated.’

  He got out and came round to the driver’s door, while I primped my hair in the mirror. My eyes looked too bright and my cheeks were marshmallow pink. I practised smiling, and saying, ‘Hi, you guys, it’s great to see you,’ but it didn’t sound like the sort of thing I’d say.

  ‘Ma’am,’ Toby said, and as I stepped out into the balmy evening and took his proffered arm, I found myself wishing he really was my boyfriend.

  ‘I don’t think they’re here yet.’ I glanced around for the Land Rover, or Megan’s sports car. I couldn’t see either, but still dragged my feet as we approached the restaurant, as if we were visiting a maximum-security prison.

  As we stepped into the spice-scented entrance I spotted Megan at a table by the window, and realised she must have watched us walk up to the entrance.

  Toby had seen her too. ‘Keep smiling,’ he murmured, as Megan lifted her chin imperiously.

  ‘Over here, Rick,’ she called. ‘They’re with me.’

  A man with a lobster-patterned apron tied around his waist hurried over, and shepherded us across the gleaming floor to her table, which was covered with a white linen cloth, and set with silver cutlery. The wine glasses alone looked like they’d cost more than the entire contents of my kitchen.

  ‘I’ll fetch some menus,’ murmured Rick.

  Classical music bubbled above the muted buzz of conversation, adding to the aura of sophistication, and Megan rose like royalty greeting her subjects. ‘I’m so glad you could come!’

  She looked unusually demure in a simple, crocheted tunic dress the colour of clotted cream, which made her eyes look extra vivid. Her hair was fastened in a sleek ponytail, swept forward over one shoulder, and her feet were caged in strappy gold high heels.

  ‘You look amazing!’ she said to me, gripping me in a subtly perfumed embrace, her peach-tinted li
ps almost brushing my cheek.

  ‘So, do you!’ My hands listlessly patted her back. I could feel her shoulder blades, like fins, but when I stepped back I noticed a gentle curve at the front of her dress, and was flooded with guilt. She was obviously pregnant. What had I been thinking?

  ‘You’ve already met T… Cooper,’ I said, jerking my eyes up to her glowing face.

  ‘I certainly have.’ Rocking back, she enveloped him in a flirtatious gaze that made him blush fiercely. ‘I must admit, I thought a war correspondent would look more’ – she pinched her chin, and gave an exaggerated pout – ‘grizzled,’ she concluded. ‘Isn’t that a fantastic word?’ She looked from Toby to me, her face wreathed in delight, but I had the impression she didn’t believe he was a war correspondent, and probably wasn’t buying that he was my boyfriend either.

  ‘He’s moving away from that now,’ I said, slipping my hand into Toby’s and giving him what I hoped was an adoring look. ‘Which is why he was in…’ Oh hell, where was it again?

  ‘Budapest,’ Toby chipped in, returning my look with such an ardent one, he almost went cross-eyed. ‘It was getting too much, being on the front line. No sleep, being shot at, terrible pay.’ He gave a convincing shudder, having clearly read more than I had about what the job entailed. ‘Plus, I missed this lovely lady, and wanted to spend more time with her.’ He placed a strong arm around my shoulders. ‘She’s the most important thing in the world,’ he said, and placing a finger under my chin, he tilted my face and placed his lips on mine.

  ‘More important than reporting from a war zone?’

  I unclamped my lips from Toby’s – as kisses went it wasn’t bad, but it didn’t set off any fireworks – and saw an uncertain look cross Megan’s face.

  I gave Toby’s hand a squeeze. ‘Could you pour me a small drink… darling?’ I said, as a waiter hurried over with a gigantic bottle of champagne in a silver bucket, not dissimilar to the sort we filled with flowers at the stall. ‘I just need to…’ I glanced around for a sign to the toilets, surreptitiously looking for Tom.

  ‘Oh, the ladies is over there, through the door at the end and turn left,’ said Megan. ‘Don’t worry about Cooper, I’ll keep him entertained.’

  Slipping back into playful mode with disorientating speed, she gave him a saucy wink, and gestured for him to sit at the linen-covered table.

  Toby threw me a look that was less adoring boyfriend, and more death-row-victim-hoping-for-a-last-minute-reprieve, but I’d reached the pinnacle of my acting skills and needed a moment to regroup.

  ‘Won’t be long… sweetie.’ I aimed a kiss at his cheek, noticing a sheen of perspiration on his upper lip. His theatrical abilities had clearly peaked, too.

  ‘Hurry back,’ he said, fervently. ‘I’ll miss you.’

  Feeling bad for him, and not daring to look at Megan, I shot off, a little arthritic in Ruby’s cork-heeled wedges, and as I pushed through the door and turned left, I cannoned straight into Tom, coming through a side entrance.

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘Carrie!’ he shot out an arm to steady me, alarm spreading over his face. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Where are you going?’ I fired back, heart catapulting into my throat. ‘I didn’t think you were coming.’ He looked good, in dark jeans and an olive-green shirt, and I fought an animal instinct to nestle against him.

  ‘I wanted to see you,’ he said, with heart-wrenching honesty. His hand was still on my arm, sparking a frenzy of butterflies in my stomach. Through the window, the blue horizon of sea and sky stretched behind him, and I wished we were in a boat on the ocean, just the two of us, with no more misunderstandings – and no Megan.

  Pierced by remorse at wishing her away I said, ‘We’re supposed to be carrying on as normal.’

  ‘Why are you here then?’ he challenged. ‘This isn’t exactly normal.’

  ‘Because Megan invited me, and I thought it might look odd if we both said no.’

  He shook his head, and I noticed fresh dark crescents underneath his eyes. ‘Carrie, we need to talk—’

  ‘Thanks for getting my car back to me. How much do I owe you?’

  His hand dropped. ‘I told you, I’d sort it out. Carrie, look at me.’

  ‘Did your father say anything, about me being at the cottage?’ I said, before my resistance melted.

  ‘He spoke to me, but not about that.’ His features grew serious, as though trying to decipher a riddle. ‘He started talking about wanting me to be happy, and how in love he’d been with Mum.’ He pushed closer, as a chattering group of people flowed into the restaurant. ‘Then he apologised for not being a good father.’

  ‘Wow,’ I said. ‘I wonder what brought that on.’

  Tom’s eyebrows shifted. ‘I don’t know, but he sounded genuine.’

  ‘Well, that’s something.’ I touched his sleeve. ‘It sounds like he wants to mend bridges.’

  He glanced at my fingers, and I let my hand fall away.

  ‘Oh, there you are!’

  We wheeled around, as guilty as if we’d been caught snogging against the brick wall, to see Megan approaching, a bright smile fixed to her face.

  ‘Hi, sexy.’ She kissed Tom hard on the mouth, bringing an unwelcome flashback of the last time I’d seen them kiss at his twenty-first – only this time, Tom’s arms were stiff by his side.

  Seeming not to notice, she gave me a shark-eyed look. ‘Cooper’s getting restless,’ she said pointedly, draping her arm around Tom’s waist and leaning her head on his shoulder. ‘He’s on his third glass of champagne, and starting to get a bit maudlin.’

  ‘Cooper?’ Tom looked like he’d forgotten about my so-called boyfriend. ‘God, Carrie, I’m sorry,’ he said, looking crushed. ‘I shouldn’t have kept you talking here—’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I cut in, my face hotter than the sun. ‘Let’s go and order some food.’

  The thought of eating made my stomach cramp, but I was overcome with a masochistic need to see the evening through, and to exit with some dignity intact. I followed Megan and Tom to the table, the straps of Ruby’s shoes re-opening my blisters.

  ‘Sorry,’ I mouthed to Toby, who was tracking my return with a stagey, love-struck smile. ‘There you are, sweetheart, light of my life.’ He put down his glass and half rose, but his knees were wedged under the table and he ended up in a half squat. ‘Come here, buttercup.’ He tugged me onto the chair beside him and hooked his arm round my neck. ‘I’ve missed you, baby-cakes.’ He began nibbling my ear with the fervour of a rabbit with a lettuce leaf. ‘You smell scrumptious.’

  Ignoring Tom’s curious gaze, I smiled inanely and grabbed a menu.

  ‘Aren’t they cute?’ drawled Megan, as Tom sat opposite Toby.

  ‘Tom Hudson,’ he said, extending a hand, and Toby let go of me to pump it firmly.

  ‘Good to meet you, sir.’

  ‘It’s just Tom.’ His eyes twitched to mine and away again, and I briefly wished I hadn’t told him I’d exaggerated my relationship with Cooper for Megan’s sake. Except he’s not Cooper. And we’re not in a relationship.

  ‘Cooper’s been telling me how much he adores you,’ Megan gushed, smoothing her dress against the backs of her thighs as she took her seat. ‘He was saying you can’t wait to start a family.’

  As her hand went to her stomach, a pained expression flew across Toby’s face, and I knew she was lying. He’d broken up with his wife because they couldn’t conceive; he wouldn’t have said something like that, even in character.

  ‘Maybe one day,’ I managed, reaching to give his knee an apologetic squeeze. My glance strayed to Tom, who was staring at his phone as if willing it to transform into a time machine and spirit him away.

  ‘Give me that.’ Megan swept it off him and into a black patent bag which she plonked at her feet. ‘It’s rude to have phones at the table.’

  ‘I’m on call,’ he said, a muscle leaping in his jaw. ‘You know Carl’s on holiday this week, and Beatrice has a cold.
’

  Megan made a face. ‘If you came to HCH, you wouldn’t need to worry about absent vets.’ Her deliberately casual tone suggested it was a well-worn argument. ‘You could set your own timetable.’

  It was unsettling, seeing them sitting together. They definitely weren’t coming across like an about-to-be-married couple, despite Megan’s attempts to create an aura of intimacy, touching Tom’s hand, and angling her body towards him.

  ‘Let’s not do this,’ Tom said a touch wearily, folding and unfolding his napkin. ‘You know I love what I do.’

  ‘What about you, Cooper?’ She rested her arms on the table. ‘Would you rather root around an animal’s anal glands, or oversee a bunch of lovely hotels where’ – she held up her palm as Tom started to speak – ‘there’s already a team of amazing staff, thanks to moi’ – she fluttered her eyelashes – ‘and all you have to do is visit them to make sure things are running smoothly, go on lovely trips, and look for locations in which to build another lovely hotel?’ She made a balancing-the-scales motion with her hands. ‘Not a difficult choice, is it?’

  ‘There’s a bit more to it than that,’ Tom said, twisting his watch around his wrist. ‘I get a lot of satisfaction from being a vet.’

  Toby’s head looked a bit loose on his shoulders, and as he adopted an expression of deep concentration I realised he was totally sozzled. ‘What was the question?’ he said to Megan.

  There was a momentary pause, and everyone studied their menu.

  ‘So, what were you doing in Budapest?’ Tom asked Toby, clearly keen to steer the topic away from the hotel business, not noticing the way Megan’s lips pinched together.

  Seeing me watching, she bent them into a facsimile of an interested smile.

  ‘What do most people do in Budapest?’ Toby leaned back, yawned and scratched his armpit. ‘No, really,’ he said, squinting at Tom. ‘What DO people do in Budapest?’ He snorted. ‘Budapest! It sounds weird when you keep saying it.’

  Megan sniggered. ‘Someone’s a little bit tiddly.’

  ‘Are you ready to order?’ We turned as one to see a baby-faced waiter poised with a notepad and pen. ‘I can recommend the crab chowder.’