My Kind of Happy - Part One: A New Leaf

by Cathy Bramley

  ‘Oh crap,’ I muttered under my breath. A beginner like me would need an entire day to do a good job.

  The woman grinned. ‘Wedding flowers are always a crap job.’

  Just then a lanky teenager with a shaggy haircut and a soft fluffy moustache sloped into the marquee pulling a trolley loaded with crates of drinks. I eyed the trolley longingly.

  ‘Could I borrow that do you think?’ I asked. ‘It would be perfect to ferry the flowers from my car.’

  ‘Sure.’ The events manager relayed my request to the young man who set about emptying it for me. ‘I’m Kelly, by the way. If you need any help, give me or one of my team a shout.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, wondering if ‘help’ extended to flower-arranging. Her name rang a bell … ‘Are you the Kelly who used to work for Nina?’

  Her face flushed. ‘Yes.’ She glanced over her shoulder to check none of her team were in earshot and lowered her voice. ‘Why, what did she tell you about me?’

  I considered the million and one flowers in the back of my car and ticking clock and decided to be creative with my answer. ‘Only that she misses you and that you’re really talented with flowers.’

  Kelly frowned. ‘Nina said that?’

  That frown was slightly alarming; maybe I’d overdone it with ‘talented’. However, beggars couldn’t be choosers …

  ‘She certainly misses you.’ I nodded earnestly. ‘So if you’re serious about helping, I’d be honoured. I am rather against the clock.’

  She sucked in a sharp breath. ‘This is my first wedding in my new job. The last thing I need is for Nina to cock it up for me by not being ready. OK, I’ll muck in for a bit, this lot know what they’re doing anyway.’

  She peeled off her jacket and chucked it over the back of a chair. ‘Right, where’s your workbench?’

  My vast inexperience hit me in a tsunami of doubt. I hadn’t thought about where I’d actually create my flower displays and I certainly hadn’t realised I’d need a workbench. I had a flash of nostalgia for the long wooden table at the Wisteria Flower school where we were allowed to create as much chaos as we wanted. ‘Um …’

  Kelly was waiting for an answer, a bemused smile making her cherry red lips twitch.

  I drew myself up tall. This time last year, I’d delivered the keynote speech at a conference for Scandinavian timber merchants about the future of global paper consumption. If I could hold my own in front of them, I could certainly handle leave-in-the-lurch Kelly. I gave her a tightly efficient smile. ‘Nina said you’d have a trestle table set up for me?’

  ‘Did she?’ Her eyes darted left and right as if scrolling through her memory for that detail.

  I nodded.

  ‘Arses.’ She stomped off to sort it out.

  I let out a breath. Today was turning out to be a good deal more nerve-racking than planned, I thought, heading back to the car to release Scamp. I was well and truly out of my comfort zone, and, amazingly, I was enjoying every second of it.

  Chapter Ten

  Kelly wasn’t the most delicate of florists, plus she was accident prone and potty-mouthed. In the first five minutes she managed to knock a full watering-can over her shoes, stab herself with secateurs and snap the heads of several precious peonies, while supplying everyone with an expletive-heavy running commentary on her woes.

  In spite of that, I don’t know what I’d have done without her. Within minutes, she’d purloined a trestle table for us to work on which we set up behind the marquee just out of sight of any early guests. She cajoled several of the waiting staff to bring water for us to fill all my hotch-potch collection of vessels (I hadn’t even considered where I’d be getting water from) and she even had a glass of lemonade and a sandwich plus doggy snacks for Scamp sent out after declaring that my rumbling stomach sounded like someone had pulled the plug out of a full bath and she was sick of listening to it.

  We tackled the easiest job first: displays for each of the round tables. With Scamp sprawled out on his back in a patch of sunshine, I filled an assortment of jugs, bottles and old jam jars with water. The marquee was very white and I had a vague notion of softening the space with relaxed, fun and casual flowers in quirky containers. I gathered bunch after bunch of blowsy peonies, feathery gypsophilia, fragrant stocks and plump hyacinths and popped them into water, while Kelly finished them off, tying lace ribbon and twine around the containers and setting them straight onto tables. We couldn’t achieve perfection, working at this speed and I had to resist the urge to fiddle with the stems. Kelly felt no such urge.

  ‘I might have stayed with Nina if I’d known you could take short cuts like this,’ she said, impressed when we’d provided three vases of flowers for every table. ‘What next?’

  ‘On to the top table,’ I said, gazing worriedly at the half-finished garland which Nina had been working on when I’d found her. Between us we carried it through the marquee and set it in the centre of the long rectangular table in front of where the bride and groom would preside over the room. But no matter how much we fiddled with it, it didn’t quite work.

  Kelly wrinkled her nose. ‘Looks shite. Not long enough and you’ll never have time to finish it.’

  Annoyingly she was right.

  ‘Arses,’ I said flatly.

  Kelly’s lips twitched into a smile.

  I carefully lifted it out of the way and set it to one side under the arch on the wedding cake table.

  Kelly opened her mouth to impart more wisdom.

  ‘It’s just temporary,’ I said curtly. ‘While I, er …’

  I was about to say ‘while I decide what to do with it’ but thought better of it.

  But Kelly had clocked my hesitation. She gave me a sharp look. ‘You do know what you’re doing, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, willing my face not to blush. ‘I’m going to make a table runner of flowers which looks like a spring meadow: natural, pretty and unfussy. Masses of foliage peppered with flowers.’

  ‘Right.’ Kelly lifted one slender eyebrow. ‘And the arch?’

  ‘One thing at a time,’ I said, my mind whirling with Fiona’s advice. The arch was over to one side and wouldn’t be in people’s eyeline. The top table, on the other hand, would feature in everyone’s wedding photos so that was the priority.

  ‘You’re the boss,’ she muttered dubiously.

  ‘You grab as much greenery as you can and arrange it in a wide stripe along the entire length of the table. And I’ll poke loads of flowers into it.’

  Kelly did as she was told and even managed to get two waiters to help cart the foliage inside for us. We started at one end and while she made a deep foresty bed of ivy, ruskus, eucalyptus and fern, I selected a hundred or so flowers and tucked them into the foliage. Roses in shades of white, pink and creamy peach, blue lisianthus and cornflowers, trumpeting narcissi and frilly-edged tulips … the beauty of the flowers was making my heart soar. Although thinking about it, that might have been nerves.

  ‘Nina normally makes me wire every stem,’ said Kelly, marvelling at how fast the display was coming together. ‘Most mind-numbing job on the planet.’

  ‘The theme is more rustic for this wedding though,’ I said, brushing aside my pang of doubt.

  There was no time for wire and besides, Fiona had drummed into me that these flowers only had to look good for a few hours. ‘And just think, at the end of the night, the bride can give bunches of flowers away to her guests.’

  ‘At the end of the night, this bride will only have one thing on her mind,’ Kelly smirked. ‘And that’s bed.’

  ‘Let’s stay professional about our clients, shall we?’ I said primly, noticing that two of the younger lads had overheard and were now elbowing each other.

  ‘You and your dirty mind.’ She hooted with laughter. ‘I meant she’ll be knackered. She’s five months pregnant. Mind you, the groom is well fit.’

  We reached the end of the table and walked round to the centre to survey our work. My heart w
as definitely soaring with happiness this time.

  ‘Wow,’ I said, feeling a lump in my throat. ‘It looks incredible.’

  I knew my hours of scrolling through Pinterest would pay off one day.

  ‘Not bad,’ she said, with a sniff. She took her phone out of her pocket and took a few pictures. For the hotel website, she told me. I took some for Nina. I had no idea whether she had a website or not, but I felt I should.

  ‘Wedding cars are here,’ announced a breathless waitress from the marquee’s entrance. Behind her a line of staff appeared carrying silver serving dishes.

  ‘Shit the bed!’ Kelly yelled.

  ‘Stay calm,’ I said, feeling very proud of myself. ‘All we need to do is tidy up around the top table and –’

  ‘I’m supposed to be out there, greeting them.’ Kelly flapped about trying to find her jacket. ‘Doing my actual job, not yours.’

  Not my job either, I thought, but didn’t say anything. Instead I held out Kelly’s jacket for her and she slid her arms in.

  ‘Thanks for your help,’ I said. ‘I couldn’t have finished in time without you.’

  ‘You haven’t finished.’ Kelly nodded to where I’d left Nina’s abandoned garland. ‘You haven’t done the arch.’

  I blinked. ‘The arch is supposed to have flowers on it?’

  She gave me a quizzical look. ‘Duh. Yes. It’s one of Nina’s wedding props. Major focal point for photos.’

  ‘You’re kidding me.’ I groaned.

  That had been one of Fiona’s top three rules: prioritise the focal areas. Now what was I going to do? I’d got plenty of flowers to spare but no time.

  ‘Tut, tut. Call yourself a professional florist?’ Kelly teased.

  ‘No, I don’t actually,’ I said flatly. ‘This time yesterday I was still in flower school. I’ve only done a five-day course.’

  From behind us there was an enormous gasp. Kelly and I turned to see Nina frozen to the spot, mouth open in horror.

  ‘Got to go,’ said Kelly, sidling out of the marquee.

  ‘You told me you were a florist.’ Nina jammed her hands on her hips, her face flushed and jaw set grimly. ‘I’d never have left you in charge of Rosie’s wedding flowers otherwise.’

  I shifted uncomfortably, aware that all the staff in the marquee had paused in their tasks to watch the drama.

  ‘I am. I’ve done a course, I like flowers, therefore I’m a florist. Just not … a professional,’ I said weakly. ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Of course it matters!’ Nina raked a hand through her hair. ‘I’m such a plonker; my friend’s wedding and I’ve left the flowers to … what even are you?’

  ‘I have a degree in business studies and for the last ten years, I’ve been a data analyst, in the paper industry.’

  At that, Nina’s eyes glazed over; an expression I was used to.

  Scamp, deciding I needed support, rolled over from where he’d been lying under the top table and sat down proprietorially on one of my feet. His faithful presence gave me a boost and I decided to style it out.

  ‘Look, I can see you’re annoyed but you needed help and I stepped into the breach,’ I pointed out. ‘Do you like what I’ve done? Kelly helped.’

  Nina’s eyes slid sideways to the spring meadow table runner and pursed her lips. I sensed her soften towards me. ‘It looks charming,’ she admitted.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said relieved.

  If I hadn’t turned up she’d probably still have been sitting in a puddle of tears, the marquee wouldn’t have any flowers at all and she’d have missed the actual wedding.

  Through the entrance of the marquee, I could make out the bridal party in the distance. The little boy, Noah, was running around with his dog and the photographer was organising people into groups.

  ‘I’m quickly going to do something with the arch,’ I said steering her towards the entrance, once I’d removed Scamp from my foot. ‘Why don’t you go and be in the photographs, while I finish off. If you trust me, that is?’

  Just then a diminutive white-haired woman bustled into the marquee, pursued by an old man.

  ‘Santo cielo!’ she cried, clapping her hands to her cheeks. ‘Look atta this!’

  ‘Oh balls, now we’ve had it,’ Nina muttered, shaking my arm off from around her shoulder and striding up to the old couple.

  ‘I can explain, Maria,’ said Nina, hanging her head. ‘I accepted help from this woman who told me she was a florist and it turns out she’s not a professional.’

  Maria wafted Nina away, walked to the nearest table and bent over a jam jar of flowers to smell it. The old man checked over his shoulder anxiously. ‘Maria, I think they want us for a photograph.’

  ‘Un momento, Stanley,’ she replied, walking over to the top table. She shook her head in awe. ‘Perfetto, bellisimi fiori.’

  ‘It’s true. I don’t have much professional experience,’ I said hotly, frustrated that Nina had changed her tune again. ‘But I’ve been around flowers since I was a little girl helping at my grandmother’s market stall. Flowers are my passion.’

  ‘Passion.’ The old lady pointed at me, nodding in agreement. ‘Worth ten times any papers.’

  ‘But there are skills, techniques,’ argued Nina. ‘And it takes longer than five days to learn them.’

  ‘You like my biscotti, si?’ Maria asked her.

  Nina looked confused. ‘Yes, but …’

  ‘Not once you say to me, I not eat your biscotti till I see your papers. No. They look, they smell, they taste. Passion come from here.’ She banged her chest. ‘You don’t learn it in cotton blue cookery school.’

  ‘It’s cordon bleu, my dear,’ said Stanley, with a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘No, I learn from my grandmother, like her,’ Maria said, ignoring him. She reached for my hands. ‘Brava, cara. Whoever you are, this come from your heart.’

  ‘I’m Fearne,’ I supplied.

  She smelled of lemons and vanilla and lavender and I felt a wave of nostalgia for summers spent with my granny.

  ‘When me and my Stanley get married, I want flowers like this. From the heart. Now, come on Stanley, we gotta go.’

  She held her hand out to Stanley who tucked it under his arm. The two of them walked away, leaving Nina and I staring awkwardly at each other.

  Nina chewed her lip. ‘I’m so sorry, Maria’s right, your flowers are bellisimo. And I’ve been incredibly rude and ungrateful.’

  With a jolt, I remembered the arch and without replying, I made to leave the marquee, Scamp trotting loyally behind me. Professional or not, I wasn’t a quitter and I was determined to decorate it somehow, though perhaps not with the finesse it deserved.

  ‘Wait!’ Nina caught me up. ‘Don’t leave like this.’

  ‘I’m not,’ I said, distractedly. Instead I surveyed the remaining foliage. I couldn’t decorate the whole arch, but maybe that semi-complete garland could go across the top and then I could have tumbling fronds of ivy wound around the sides.

  ‘OK, look, the job is yours.’ She beamed at me, clearly expecting me to be thrilled.

  ‘The job?’ I looked at her blankly.

  ‘The vacancy for assistant manager?’ She raised her eyebrows mischievously. ‘That’s why you came to the shop, isn’t it? Because you’d seen the ad in the newspaper.’

  ‘Um … well …’ Technically, I’d gone to the café for sustenance before my day had taken such an unexpected turn. Walking past Nina’s Flowers had been purely as a result of it being next door.

  She held up a hand. ‘No, I insist. This has been your interview, practical task and references all rolled into one. You’ve passed. With flying colours. Plus, you’ve impressed Maria Carloni, grandmother of the bride, which is in itself quite a feat.’

  ‘Well. Thank you,’ I replied, slightly dazed. ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Fab.’ She threw her arms around me, taking my gratitude for job acceptance. ‘Welcome to Nina’s Flowers.’

  This was the point at whic
h I could have told her that I was having a year’s sabbatical to work on my happy list. That I didn’t want a job, I wanted to experience new things and get out of the rut I’d fallen into. In essence, to find a new way to live without Freddie. But a golden glow of happiness was spreading through my body and instead of turning Nina down I was smiling back at her.

  ‘I can only commit to three months,’ I blurted out.

  ‘Hmm.’ Nina narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. ‘How about four?’

  I shrugged. ‘OK, four. But Scamp will have to come with me.’

  ‘Done.’ She stuck her hand out and we shook on the deal. ‘Ring me on Monday and we can talk money etcetera. Now if you really don’t mind finishing the arch by yourself, I must get back to the wedding.’

  And with that she dashed off across the lawn to rejoin the bridal party. I stared after her, stunned into silence, and then looked down at the dog.

  ‘Looks like we’ve got a new job,’ I said.

  I laughed in surprise and Scamp wagged his tail eagerly in response.

  Freddie would definitely find this funny, I thought wistfully, as I carted the rest of the ivy inside. His list had been full of sunrises, beaches and new places, I couldn’t imagine that spending four months in a small village shop would have found a place on it. But this was my kind of happy, my choice and my life. I didn’t know what Monday was going to bring, or in fact the next four months, but for the first time in my entire life, I was taking a leap into the unknown just for the fun of it.

  Would Nina’s Flowers be my chance to let happiness back into my life …?

  Fearne’s dream of a happy life with flowers is just beginning – but when the shop turns out to be less rosy than she’d hoped, can Fearne help Nina turn things around in time?

  Continue the story in Part Two of My Kind of Happy: A Time To Blossom

  About A Time to Blossom

  Fearne’s dream of a happy life bursting with flowers is just getting started, and she never expected it to lead her to the picturesque village of Barnaby. Her new job is putting a spring back in her step – until she realises the shop might not be as rosy as the cheery blooms suggest … and they only have one week to put it right.