My Kind of Happy - Part One: A New Leaf

by Cathy Bramley

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  He took the lead from me then glanced up and saw the wedding car. ‘Yikes, Mummy’s arrived. I’d better get back in there. Come on Hugo, we’ve got a job to do. Bye!’

  ‘Bye,’ I replied with a grin.

  What a sweet boy; I was no expert but he must have been about eight years old. He looked very cute in his outfit: trousers, white shirt and a full-length adult tie which poked out from the bottom of his waistcoat. He had a yellow and white buttonhole pinned to his chest. As he and the dog headed back towards the church, something fell from his pocket.

  ‘Wait! You’ve dropped something,’ I called, stepping forward to pick it up. It was a ring box.

  ‘Yikes again!’ His eyes widened, as he dragged the dog back to collect it from me. ‘Dad would ban me from the Xbox for life if I lost the rings.’

  ‘Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen,’ I said, smiling at his earnest little face. ‘Tuck it away safely. Are you an usher?’

  He puffed his chest out, shaking his head. ‘I’m the best man. I’ve got to do a speech at the party and everything.’

  He put the ring box in his pocket and then froze. ‘Oh no.’

  ‘What is it?’

  His chin started to wobble. ‘My speech. It was in my pocket and now it’s gone.’

  I cast about on the ground looking for it, but couldn’t see anything vaguely speech-like.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  Before he could answer, the bride and her father appeared on the other side of the lychgate, thankfully still being occupied by the man pretending to be a photographer, but they’d be through that gate any minute.

  ‘Noah,’ he whispered, his face getting more crumpled by the second.

  Scamp and Hugo were still trotting around in an endless circle and getting their leads tangled.

  ‘I bet you’ll give a great speech,’ I said, unravelling the leads. ‘Even if you have to make it up on the spot. Just say that the bridesmaids look beautiful, they’ll like that, and then tell a funny story about the groom.’

  ‘That’s my dad,’ Noah nodded thoughtfully. ‘I suppose I do know quite a few funny things to say.’

  ‘There you go then,’ I said, keeping an eye on the bridal party.

  ‘Like the time he farted in church and tried to blame Granddad.’

  I managed to keep a straight face. Well what did I expect? He was a small boy; Freddie’s favourite toys when he was a similar age were a whoopee cushion and a fake dog poo. ‘Hmm, anything else, maybe not about wind?’

  ‘Not wind.’ Noah thought for a second. ‘There is one about snow.’

  ‘Much better,’ I said with relief.

  His eyes sparkled mischievously. ‘Daddy’s car got stuck in the snow driving up the hill and he was so scared he did a little poo.’

  ‘Whoops,’ I said, swallowing a giggle. ‘Perhaps you’ll find your speech in time.’

  ‘What’s your name?’ he asked warily as if suddenly realising he was talking to a stranger.

  ‘Er …’ I hesitated, not wanting to get the blame for the amount of toilet-related humiliation about to be heaped on the poor groom by his son.

  I was saved from having to answer by the gate being opened and the bride walked through on the arm of the man I assumed was her dad.

  ‘Hello darling!’ she said to Noah, a huge smile visible under her veil.

  Also visible, although not as huge was a bump under her dress; she was definitely pregnant. Her flowers were amazing: a rustic bouquet of pale yellow ranunculus, white roses and sunshine-centred daisies, wrapped in ivy.

  ‘Hi Mummy, hi Granddad, I just brought Hugo out for one minute,’ he said, shooting a nervous glance in my direction, probably hoping I wouldn’t grass on him about the escaped dog, dropped wedding rings and mislaid speech. I smiled evenly, hoping that the bride didn’t want to know who I was. ‘And now I’m going back in. Bye.’

  ‘That’s a good lad,’ said his granddad.

  He ran off, with Hugo scampering ahead, then stopped, pulled out something from his other pocket and turned around to me, with a wide grin.

  ‘Found it!’ he yelled, waving a scrunched-up piece of paper at me.

  I gave him a thumbs-up; what an adorable boy.

  ‘Gorgeous flowers,’ I said to the bride, squeezing through the gate and pulling Scamp with me. ‘Have a fabulous day!’

  I left the wedding party to it and crossed the green, heading towards the café. It had a striped yellow and grey awning and a sign with ‘The Lemon Tree Café’ picked out in delicate pale grey lettering. My stomach rumbled; it had been a long time since that shortbread and I was in the mood for something substantial.

  As I drew closer, my heart sank; all the lights were off inside and the café was deserted. A handwritten note on the glass door gave me the bad news: it was closed for a family wedding. In fact, now I looked carefully, I could see that everything was closed up except the pub but I didn’t like sitting in pubs by myself, even with a dog for company.

  ‘Back to the car then, Scamp,’ I said with a sigh. Even he looked disappointed.

  Next door to the café was a flower shop called Nina’s Flowers. There was a small card stuck to the door. I bent closer to read it, expecting it to be a notice about the shop being closed for a wedding, but it was an advertisement for a job vacancy. I stepped forward to peer inside when a flash of movement caught my eye. I shielded my eyes from the light so that I could make out the interior. A small dark-haired woman was leaning over the counter, a mountain of ivy fronds piled up beside her; it looked like she was crying. I couldn’t hear anything over the church bells but next to me, Scamp cocked his head to one side.

  ‘Someone doesn’t seem very happy, do they?’ I said, scratching his neck.

  I almost walked away and left her to it; after all, it was none of my business, but at the last second I changed my mind. I knocked briskly on the glass and the head on the counter flipped up to stare at me.

  ‘We’re closed!’ shouted a sob-weary voice.

  ‘Are you OK?’ I shouted back, trying to inject as much compassion into my raised voice as I could. ‘You look like maybe you could do with some help?’

  For a long moment the woman didn’t move but then she peeled herself from behind the counter and dragged herself across the shop.

  The door opened just enough for me to note the puffy eyes beneath a heavy dark fringe, sore fingers holding the door frame and the edge of a pretty cream dress printed with soft pink peonies.

  ‘Whoever you are, you’re very kind, but unless you’re a florist, there’s nothing you can do.’

  My head told me to smile sorrowfully and head back to the car. But my heart … my heart couldn’t bear to see such sadness when there was something I could do to help.

  I crossed my fingers behind my back. ‘Then it’s your lucky day.’

  Well. I didn’t exactly lie.

  Chapter Nine

  The woman clung to the edge of the door as if she might collapse if she let go. ‘But we’re strangers, why would you want to help me? I can’t even pay you.’

  There was a tiny chink of hope in her eyes and my heart went out to her.

  ‘Karma,’ I said simply. ‘What goes around comes around. Maybe one day I’ll be in need of assistance and someone will come to my rescue. I’m Fearne and this handsome devil is Scamp. And I’m guessing you must be Nina?’

  She nodded, adding flatly, ‘Pleased to meet you.’

  She looked exhausted; she had hollows under her eyes the size of moon craters, not helped by smudged eyeliner and streaks of mascara.

  I looked past her into the shop. ‘So how can I help?’

  I hardly needed to ask: the huge quantity of flowers, which incidentally had the most amazing perfume, and the stack of white packing boxes on the floor were a bit of a giveaway: it looked as if she had a large order to fulfil and was behind schedule.

  She sighed. ‘I’m doing the flowers for a friend’s w
edding and everything that would possibly go wrong has.’

  I chewed my lip, trying not to show my dismay. A wedding. And for a friend. No wonder she was stressed.

  ‘Oh dear, well I’m here now,’ I said brightly. ‘Let’s get stuck in. When is the wedding?’

  Just then the church bells fell silent. Nina’s face crumpled in horror.

  ‘Now. It’s literally starting now the other side of the green.’ She brushed a tear from her face. She opened the door wide enough for us both to enter. ‘Oh balls. Not only have I messed up Rosie’s wedding, I’ve actually missed it as well.’

  She was a guest as well as the florist? I tried not to show my panic. What a nightmare.

  Nina said something else then, but it was more of a wail and I couldn’t make out the words. Scamp’s eyebrows were moving from left to right and I could tell he was picking up on Nina’s anxiety. It was time to take action.

  ‘Why don’t you sit down while you give me some instructions?’ I handed her some tissue paper from a roll on the end of the counter.

  She dabbed at her eyes, making the mascara even more smeared.

  ‘There’s no time for sitting,’ she muttered, but didn’t put up much of a fight when I nudged her into a chair.

  As soon as she sat down, Scamp, ever game for some fuss, rested his chin on her knee and gazed up at her with worried eyes.

  ‘And I hope you don’t mind,’ I said, ‘but Scamp and I are parched. Do you have anything to drink?’

  ‘Through there.’ Nina pointed to an open doorway at the back of the shop through which I could see a tiny kitchen.

  ‘He’s impossible not to love,’ said Nina, when I returned with water for all three of us.

  I smiled. ‘He was a rescue dog, although in reality, it was he who rescued me. OK, where do we start?’

  Nina took a sip of water and then began to tell me what was what.

  She was about twelve hours behind schedule. Partly because her assistant, Kelly had left without working her notice to take up another job and she hadn’t yet found a replacement. And partly because the fire in the Channel Tunnel yesterday – the same one which had left Hamish stranded – meant that her flower order hadn’t been delivered and she’d had to buy up what the wholesalers had spare and they had only arrived late yesterday evening.

  ‘I’ve worked through the night,’ Nina said with a wan smile. ‘I managed to get the buttonholes and the bouquets for the bride and bridesmaids and the swag for the church lychgate done. But the marquee for the reception is totally flowerless.’

  ‘Is it the marquee at a pub near the river?’ I asked, thinking back to our walk earlier.

  ‘The Riverside Hotel, yes,’ said Nina.

  She told me that after the service, the wedding party would have photographs in the church grounds, then travel on to the hotel where champagne was to be served on the terrace before everyone would retire to the marquee for the wedding breakfast at four.

  ‘I met the bride a few minutes ago, and the best man.’

  Nina gasped. ‘And? How did she seem? Was her bouquet all right?’

  ‘All the flowers were gorgeous; in fact, I loved them so much, I took pictures to show a friend.’ I pulled out my phone and showed her the photos I’d taken. ‘And she looked radiant, blooming actually.’

  Nina made a whimpering noise. ‘Her baby is due in July, the last thing she needs is stress.’

  ‘Look,’ I said hurriedly, conscious of the time. ‘All is not lost. We’ve got a couple of hours before the wedding breakfast. If you’re quick, you can still get to see them tie the knot.’

  She blinked at me, wide-eyed. ‘And leave you here alone?’

  ‘You can trust me,’ I promised. ‘But if it makes you feel better … There you go.’ I held out my car keys to her. ‘Now I can’t escape with your stock.’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Nina said shakily, refusing to take them. ‘I’ve never, I mean, how kind, that’s just … Oh God.’

  ‘Don’t cry again,’ I said flapping at her. ‘Now go. Or you’ll miss the kiss.’

  ‘The kiss,’ she squealed, yanking on her apron strings to remove it. The full short skirt of her dress sprang out. ‘Literally can’t wait to see that. Such a gorgeous couple.’

  Scamp, buoyed by the new energy in the room, started to bounce around in circles, barking at his tail. I caught his collar before he knocked Nina over.

  ‘Thanks so much for this.’ She planted a fierce kiss to my cheek. ‘You’re an angel.’

  ‘See you at the venue,’ I said, feeling slightly hysterical with all this excitement.

  She chucked me the shop keys, grabbed a pink corsage from the counter and dashed out of the door. ‘Good luck,’ she yelled over her shoulder. ‘And thank you again.’

  Scamp and I watched her sprint towards the green while simultaneously trying to pin the corsage to her dress. Once she’d disappeared from view, I turned back to the scene of floral devastation in the shop.

  My stomach flipped at the size of the task ahead and the limited time I had to accomplish it. How would Fiona, the flower school teacher, tackle it? Only one way to find out. I found her number and called her.

  ‘Heavens above!’ Fiona cried when I brought her up to speed with the job in hand. ‘When I told you to practise, this wasn’t quite what I had in mind.’

  ‘Me neither,’ I said, surveying the vast quantities of spring flowers awaiting my attention. ‘Where shall I start? And how do I prioritise?’

  ‘OK,’ said Fiona, clearing her throat. ‘Grab a pen and make notes …’

  I did as I was told and for the next couple of minutes I scribbled down as many instructions, including the main priorities and some brilliant cheats, as Fiona could think of.

  ‘So in short: maximum impact with minimum effort,’ I repeated, counting on my fingers. ‘Concentrate on the areas which will appear in most of the photos and anything which will only be seen from a distance, fudge it. Got it. I hope.’

  ‘Do you remember what I said yesterday?’ Fiona said lastly.

  Her comment brought me up short; I’d only graduated from flower school twenty-four hours ago and now I was in charge of someone’s wedding.

  ‘Let the flowers do the talking and have a little faith,’ I said, pushing down a shiver of fear. ‘I’ll do my best. And thank you.’

  ‘No, thank you. Seeing my students blossom is my greatest reward,’ Fiona declared, then adding timidly, ‘And if you wouldn’t mind tagging the flower school in the photos …?’

  I said I would, I ended the call and took a deep breath.

  What had started with Laura handing me a random article about undiscovered villages had morphed into possibly the biggest, most nerve-wracking challenge of my life. The funny thing was, I realised, that I might be out of my comfort zone, but I was enjoying every second of it.

  You can do this, Fearne, said a small voice in my head, sounding very much like Freddie.

  ‘Go big or go home,’ I said firmly and tied on Nina’s apron.

  It felt a bit like one of those cookery shows where the contestants are given a mystery bag of ingredients and have to invent dishes without being able to look up the recipes. But after a very quick exploration of what I had to work with, I managed to form a plan. Nina had been halfway through a long and complicated garland which I’d got no hope of finishing but I’d use it somewhere. There was also a box of white bowls and circles of flower foam cut to size which I presumed were for table decorations. But I wasn’t going to use them, I had a new idea which would be far quicker and simpler.

  Fiona advised me to do the flowers in situ so Scamp and I ran back to fetch my car and I crammed aluminium buckets full of flowers into every available space.

  Then grabbing ribbon, string, scissors, wire and any other tool which looked remotely useful, I coaxed a bewildered Scamp into the front seat and off we drove, with me steering around every bump and pothole in the road to minimise spillages.

  The bells were ringing
again by the time I skirted the village green and I was vaguely aware of a crowd emerging from the church. But there was no time to stop and watch them, the clock was ticking. Finding the Riverside Hotel by road was straightforward and thanks to a friendly member of staff who was stationed at the front doors ready to direct the wedding guests (eek!) I was able to drive right up to the marquee.

  I left Scamp in the car for a moment while I went inside. I had no idea what the protocol was for bringing a dog to work with me, although I couldn’t leave him in the car in this sunshine for long, but for now, I needed to get my bearings without him tugging on his lead to investigate this new and exciting place.

  And exciting it was.

  As well as a long top table, there were ten round tables, each laid with eight place-settings: glassware sparkled and silver cutlery shone. There was a serving area at one end and a dance floor at the other and beside that was a pretty white structure resembling a huge bird cage and set inside that, on top of a table was a three-tier wedding cake.

  It was already beautiful.

  ‘But you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,’ I murmured.

  I turned to head back to the car, my pulse racing with a sudden burst of adrenaline when a group of staff arrived carrying ice buckets on stands.

  ‘Can I help you?’ asked one of them: a woman, in a smart black suit and crisp white shirt.

  ‘I’m Fearne, the florist,’ I said. ‘I’m about to decorate the marquee.’

  The other members of staff smiled and carried on with their preparations.

  ‘Where’s Nina?’ she said, striding over on spiky heels which sank in the grass. Her red hair had been scraped back so tightly into a ponytail that she’d given herself a facelift. ‘Is she OK? I heard what happened with her flower delivery. If that was me I’d have topped myself. I mean, you don’t want to let someone down on their big day do you?’

  ‘Not really, no,’ I said drily.

  I explained that I was helping Nina who, although having a stressful time, hadn’t yet felt the need to commit suicide and was probably throwing confetti over the bride and groom as we spoke.

  ‘I’m the events manager for the hotel,’ she said, shaking my hand. ‘You’ve got an hour, tops, to get the flowers in situ. After that, the catering team will be in and you’ll have to leave.’