Spring on the Little Cornish Isles: Flower Farm

by Phillipa Ashley

  ‘No. I just caught over the strap of the bag with my heel. I’m absolutely fine.’

  ‘I’m great, thanks but sadly, we both need to go. Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Well, please accept my apologies …?’

  ‘Maisie,’ said Maisie, introducing herself. ‘And this is my friend, Jess.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Maisie,’ he turned his eyes on Jess. ‘You too, Jessica,’ Jess was taken aback. No one ever used her full name and it was odd that a stranger had, although perhaps he’d misheard. ‘And again, I’m sorry if I nearly caused an accident. Have a safe journey to wherever you’re going.’

  With a smile that could have lit up the whole of Hugh Town on a December night, he gathered up the offending bag and stuffed it under his feet.

  ‘Come on,’ muttered Jess, noticing that everyone in the restaurant had homed in on them.

  ‘Oh. Can you hang on a mo? I need to visit the bathroom. Again. Sorry.’ Maisie grimaced. ‘One of the joys of being pregnant, if that’s not too much information,’ she said to the Italian guy.

  He smiled gallantly before retaking his seat. ‘No need to be sorry– and congratulations by the way.’

  Leaving Jess stranded in the middle of the restaurant, Maisie scooted off to the loo. Jess glanced back at their own table but the waitress was clearing it. She could have waited for Maisie outside if it wasn’t now pouring so hard, raindrops were bouncing off the outside terrace.

  The Italian smiled. Jess smiled weakly back, feeling cut adrift.

  ‘When’s the baby due?’ he asked, taking her by surprise. His gaze was very direct, forcing Jess to meet his eyes which were the colour of the burnt caramel on her crème brûlée. ‘Your friend’s baby, I mean. Naturally,’ he added, seeming to have lost interest in his salad entirely. Jess noticed the linen napkin, casually draped over one thigh. It really was a lovely suit, and a very nice thigh too. She refocused her attention on his face.

  ‘Erm. It’s August.’

  ‘Not so far away then. Are you two sisters?’

  ‘Oh no. We’re just friends. Close friends. We were at school together on St Saviour’s.’

  ‘And you live there now?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. I run the flower farm.’

  ‘Wow. A flower farm. Sounds idyllic.’ He heaved a sigh and Jess wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

  She decided he was just making polite conversation. Maybe he felt obliged to chat to her until Maisie emerged from the loo, which Jess sincerely hoped she would as soon as possible. ‘It might sound idyllic, but you wouldn’t think so when you’re thigh-deep in mud in the middle of a raging storm.’

  His eyebrows shot up his tanned forehead. ‘Thigh-deep in mud. Now there’s an image …’

  Jess’s eyes were drawn to his lap again. She was becoming fixated. ‘I’ve exaggerated a bit. We’re knee-deep, mostly. The mud doesn’t always get that far up unless it’s been really wet. Like today for instance.’ Argh. Jess cringed at her unintended innuendo. She glanced towards the bathrooms, but Maisie was nowhere to be seen but she couldn’t leave without her. That would look very awkward.

  ‘Yes, I think I might get wet on the way down to the quay,’ said the man. So he was getting a boat to Petroc, she thought.

  ‘It might blow over. I have to leave soon though or I’ll miss the tides for my boat.’

  ‘You have your own boat?’ He sounded impressed.

  ‘It’s my family’s boat. Only a small motorboat but it’s essential for getting around.’

  ‘You must know the waters well around here.’

  ‘I was practically born in a boat.’ She smiled but stopped herself from adding that their father had taught her and Will to handle the vessel from when they were small children. He didn’t need to know that, or anything more about her, in fact. While she felt awkward about making small talk with a stranger, he seemed unfazed and certainly not bothered about his food or his phone. ‘No choice really,’ she added. ‘Oh, look. Here’s Maisie. I’ll have to go. Nice to meet you.’

  ‘Ciao,’ said the man. ‘Maybe I’ll bump into you again while I’m on Scilly.’

  Jess flashed him a weak smile and moved swiftly towards the door before Maisie could come up with any more reasons for thrusting her and the man together, however easy on the eye and apparently charming he was.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Jess demanded as soon as they were safely outside. There was still rain in the air, spotting their faces, but the black cloud that had unleashed its load was already being driven away by the brisk wind.

  ‘Of course I am. It was only a stumble.’ Maisie grinned. ‘Luckily it happened in exactly the right place.’

  Jess gasped. ‘Oh my God. Did you do that on purpose?’

  ‘Would I?’

  ‘Oh my God. Maisie. We’re too old for pulling stunts like that. It was OK when we were teenagers but not now. You’re forty, remember?’

  ‘Cheek! And you’re never too old to take a chance, although it fell a bit flat. He didn’t give his name, did he? Probably too embarrassed that he’d almost injured a pregnant woman.’

  ‘More likely too scared we might stalk him!’

  ‘I thought you were the adventurous one,’ said Maisie teasingly. ‘Remember when Patrick first turned up at the Driftwood? You chatted him up.’

  ‘Only because I wanted to try and make Adam jealous. Oh, that sounds terrible, because Patrick’s gorgeous and lovely, but …’

  Maisie laughed. ‘Don’t worry, hun. I’m not offended. I never could be offended by you, but I was only trying to find out more about the mystery man. Did you get his name?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’ But he knows mine, Jess thought, and where I live and work. Why did that slip out? The man had skilfully found out, without revealing a single thing about himself. He was probably just polite, to cover both their embarrassment at being manoeuvred together so unsubtly by Maisie.

  ‘We can always ask the restaurant owner. She’ll see his credit card.’

  ‘You can’t do that, Maisie!’

  Maisie waggled her eyebrows. ‘I can. And I might …’

  ‘Noooo.’

  ‘I’m joking! But it’s time you had some fun. Now’s your chance. There was no wedding ring or even a pale mark where one might have been.’

  ‘That means nothing. Not that many men wear rings these days.’ Besides, thought Jess, she’d been too fixated on his eyes – and thighs – to notice his hands much.

  ‘And besides, you’re not interested because of Adam?’

  ‘Not because of Adam,’ Jess said firmly.

  ‘Aha, you don’t deny being interested then?’

  Jess tutted. ‘Being pregnant doesn’t give you a licence to matchmake everyone on Scilly and behave like my mum.’ Jess tried to sound stern but she was amused by Maisie’s efforts even if she had found it excruciating to be thrown together so obviously at the time.

  Maisie linked arms with her and gave a gleeful, wicked smile. ‘Oh, it gives me a licence to do anything I want. Not that anyone could ever match your mother … Now, he clearly travels here regularly from what we’ve already deduced. I’ll see if Patrick can find out more from Hugo.’

  ‘Patrick won’t want to ask Hugo, will he?’ said Jess, knowing the fraught relationship between Patrick and Hugo Scorrier. Even though they were cousins, Hugo had – understandably – not been impressed when Patrick had turned up out of the blue to claim ownership of Petroc. The island lay on the opposite side of the channel to Maisie’s pub and they had to meet to discuss business but were hardly on friendly terms.

  ‘He might make a few enquiries. If you’re interested, that is,’ said Maisie.

  They’d reached the harbour now. Jess thought there were definitely more tourists around and once the Islander started its services at the weekend, Hugh Town would be bustling with life. Spring was here … had it really been almost six months since she’d split up with Adam? Time seemed to race by quickly when your whole life was governed by the cha
nging seasons.

  Jess forced a smile for Maisie. ‘Don’t trouble Patrick for my sake. I doubt this new guy is staying more than a couple of days and he probably has a glamorous Italian wife and a brood of ludicrously attractive bambini running around his villa in the Abruzzo.’

  ‘It would be fun to find out anyway,’ said Maisie.

  Jess spotted half a dozen people she knew queuing by the ticket office for the boats to the smaller islands and several more working on the quay. A handsome Italian wouldn’t stay mysterious for long. ‘Yes. Although the rumour mill will already be white hot,’ she said.

  ‘In that case, we’d better make sure we have the full facts. I’ll message you or call if I hear anything. Have a safe trip back to the farm and I’ll see you very soon.’

  With a hug, Maisie walked off to meet Patrick in one of the coffee shops in Hugh Town, while Jess got a move on to untie her boat and set off for St Saviour’s. In her world, time and tide really did wait for no man – or woman.

  Chapter 12

  It was a toss-up as to whether Maisie got the lowdown on the Italian first or Jess heard it on the Scilly grapevine as the rumour mill went into overdrive. Maisie won and the very next day was on the phone with everything she’d gleaned from one of the Petroc staff who’d dropped into the Driftwood Inn. As Jess had suspected, Patrick didn’t have a clue about the newcomer and was more interested in how Will was getting on with the Athene and preparing the Gull Island gig ready for the island championships over the Bank Holiday weekend in May.

  ‘He is Italian by birth. No surprise there, then,’ said Maisie gleefully down the phone. ‘His name is Luca Parisi but he’s been living in London for ages, hence the accent. Most importantly, he appears to be single, although I haven’t had that confirmed yet. The bad news, I’m afraid, is that he’s only here for a few days, according to my source, because he’s involved in some kind of marketing initiative with Hugo. Sorry I don’t have more positive news.’

  ‘You can’t win them all,’ joked Jess, enjoying Maisie’s attempts to play Sherlock and Cupid at the same time. She hadn’t really expected ‘Luca’ to stay or even to ever speak to him again, but he had been on her mind in the last twenty-four hours more often than she had expected. That was probably down to curiosity more than anything else. Adam was on her mind about fifty times more.

  *

  However, even Adam took a back seat over the weekend when a fog rolled in during the early hours of Saturday morning. The forecasters said it could last for days and on Saturday, all the planes to and from Scilly were grounded. There were never any flights on Sunday, so the farm was obviously used to that, but if none went out on Monday, a nightmare scenario could develop. Prolonged fog wasn’t a great scenario at the best of times, but couldn’t have come at a worse time with Mother’s Day just around the corner. Orders were meant to be on their way to wholesalers and customers the length and breadth of Britain throughout the following week. Each bloom had been specifically nurtured to be at its best for the day itself, so Will activated the contingency plan. The picked blooms were carefully packed and stored into every corner of the fridge to prevent them from opening too soon, ready for dispatch the moment flying resumed. Fingers crossed that it did …

  Jess said a silent prayer when strong winds blew in on Monday morning and cleared the mists sooner than forecast. Over the next few days, everyone busted a gut to make sure the backlog of orders was sent on its way, with endless trips to and from the quay and St Mary’s.

  By the end of the week, all of the orders for Mother’s Day had left the farm and the exhausted crew were able to breathe. Jess took herself off for a long hot bubble bath and a large glass of wine and her thoughts turned to the handsome Luca again.

  She allowed herself a few moments to wonder ‘what if?’ It was pure fantasy, but she felt she had to make herself think about relationships after Adam. It wasn’t healthy to imagine she’d never meet anyone else. Maisie and her mother had urged her to get out and meet new people, even if they were only passing through, and Luca Parisi was easy on the eye. She shook her head. He was far too easy on the eye, and if he flew back and forth between London and Petroc Resort on business, he probably led the sort of glamorous life that meant he wouldn’t be interested in a flower farmer. Besides, he was probably long gone by now and back in the metropolis.

  *

  Everyone heaved a huge sigh of relief when Saturday came and the staff took a well-earned weekend off. Jess and Will took their mother out for lunch on St Mary’s on Sunday. She thought of Gaby who had flown home on Friday morning to spend Mother’s Day with her family, and also to mark the first anniversary of Stevie’s death. Jess felt desperately sorry for them all and wondered how they were coping, but she said nothing to anyone else, to respect Gaby’s privacy.

  On Monday morning, Jess needed to sort out the quarterly VAT return so she took advantage of the lull to make a start, even though it was her least favourite task. She might treat herself to an afternoon at the St Saviour’s hotel spa once she’d cracked this bloody VAT. She deserved it after their manic week. There was only Easter to get through in a few weeks’ time and then the main narcissi season would be over.

  ‘Arghh!’ She threw up her hands in frustration when the figures she’d entered into the spreadsheet vanished inexplicably. Oh God, that was all she needed after all her hard work. After trying to recover the figures to no avail, panic had set in. She’d have to get the office manager, Lawrence, to help sort it when he came back from his trip to the flower farm co-operative on St Mary’s.

  ‘All things bright and bee-oo-tiful …’

  Jess glanced up from the desktop. There was only one person who sang hymns on their way to work and it wasn’t the vicar. Seconds later, the new post lady, Carmel, laughed and stepped inside, breathing heavily after carting the mail bag from the van to the office. Carmel brought the regular post from the airport to the smaller ‘off islands’ like St Saviour’s. It still felt strange to greet a new face every morning instead of Adam.

  ‘Morning, Jess. How’s it going? Busy time? Those fields are glorious.’

  ‘They are. With Mother’s Day just finished and Easter coming around, it’s pretty hectic. How about you? Enjoying your new round?’

  ‘It’s a contrast from Walthamstow, that’s for sure.’

  ‘You’re not finding it too quiet?’

  ‘Being on Scilly still seems like a holiday at the moment. The kids think so too, even though they’re at school. They can’t get over being able to run down to the beach straight from the school gates and they think it’s the coolest thing ever that my round includes a boat and a quad bike. I must admit it’s a bit of a shock that they turn off the street lights at night, but at least the kids can see the stars. I’m not sure they knew there were any in London.’

  Jess laughed, remembering the wonder of some of the seasonal workers at the dark and beautiful night skies on St Saviour’s where there were no street lights at all. Carmel and the rest of the Cooke family had moved to Scilly from the East End after Adam had moved away.

  ‘I’ve a bundle for you today,’ said Carmel, sliding the bag from her shoulder and onto the floor. A couple of the letters spilled out and Jess helped her pick them up. Jess handed the post to Carmel but kept a couple. ‘I think you missed this one. It’s for Gaby Carter.’

  ‘Oh, thanks,’ said Carmel. ‘I’m still finding my feet here. Here’s the rest of the farm mail.’

  She handed a stack of mail secured with an elastic band to Jess. It held a mix of manila and pastel-coloured envelopes, plus junk mail.

  ‘Do you have time for a cuppa? There’s one in the pot,’ Jess said. She hoped that some miracle with the VAT spreadsheets would happen while she took a breather, or that she’d come up with a way to recover them.

  Carmel hesitated then said, ‘If it’s made, I’d love a very quick one. Milk and one sugar, please.’

  Jess poured out a mug of tea, added milk and a spoon of sugar an
d handed it to Carmel who sipped it with a sigh of pleasure. Jess had seen Adam unloading the mail boat many times and dragging the trailer of post up the slipway to his van, so she knew it was hard work and Adam was twice Carmel’s size and fifteen years younger. While Carmel ate a homemade flapjack brought in from the island café, they chatted about how she was settling in to her new life.

  ‘I hope you’re happy with the deliveries. Adam left big shoes to fill,’ said Carmel.

  Jess had heard this more than once from people all over the island. ‘It’s sometimes nice to have different shoes,’ she said, wondering if Carmel had heard that she and Adam used to be an item. It was possible that the new post lady didn’t know yet, which suited Jess.

  ‘He was very popular,’ Carmel said, a little unsurely.

  ‘Yes, but you’re doing a great job. I hope you’ll stay. We could do with some new faces around here,’ said Jess, guessing that Carmel must have found it more difficult to adjust to island life than she let on. Adam had found it a challenge at first too, he’d once admitted to Jess. She found herself wondering where he was now, and what he was doing. Was he working up in Cumbria?

  ‘I plan on giving it my best shot and, anyway, we’ve burnt all our bridges. This has to work.’ Carmel took a bite of flapjack and Jess sipped her tea. When she’d finished the cake, Carmel’s broad smile was back in place. ‘I need to get on with my round, but can I use your loo first?’

  ‘Course you can.’

  Carmel picked up her bag. ‘I’ll collect your mail now and see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  After Carmel had left, Jess shut the door and separated the staff post from the Godrevys’ family and business mail. At the bottom of the pile, there was a white envelope addressed by hand to Jess Godrevy, Flower Farm, Scilly, with Personal scrawled in the top left-hand corner and underlined so strongly that the ballpoint had almost pierced the paper.

  It was Adam’s handwriting.

  Her heart almost jumped out of her chest. She pulled out two folded sheets of paper.

  Dear Jess,