by Clare Lydon
Kate was just washing her hands a few minutes later when the door opened and in walked Tanya. Kate saw her in the mirror and gave Tanya her best fake smile.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding!” Tanya said.
Kate braced herself, almost ready for Tanya to grab her round the waist from behind and nuzzle her neck. Instead, Tanya simply propped herself up against the row of sinks in the toilet and leaned back, extending her long neck and shaking her glossy hair. It was another well-rehearsed move.
“We missed you back in the bar.” She fixed Kate with a steely gaze.
Kate was flummoxed. Tanya did not behave like anybody she’d ever met before. Like Belinda said, she was socially free. And this socially free one-woman tour de force was soon on the move, edging towards Kate. Even though she was a bit shorter, Tanya oozed presence and power, something Kate was all too aware of.
Kate shuffled sideways to the hand-drier and Tanya stopped just short of her.
“I know you might think I’m forward, but I like to get the ball rolling early, leave nothing in doubt. I’d love to go on somewhere later, just the two of us and get to know you better. What do you say?”
Kate could think of nothing to say and was short of breath. She exhaled, her eyes darting round the bathroom like a pinball — anywhere but Tanya. Where had she come from?
“Erm… I don’t think that’s going to work tonight.”
Tanya’s face dropped slightly, but then she recovered, instead fixing Kate with a concerned face. “You’re not going, are you?”
Kate shook her head. “No, it’s just I’m not up for a late one tonight — got things to do tomorrow — family things.”
Tanya moved to within inches of her, face like a trained weapon, her mouth the glinting blade. “That’s a shame — perhaps another time?”
Kate leaned to the side and hit her head against the wall. “Perhaps.” She winced and held her head. “I should get back — the toilets are that way,” Kate said, pointing. She slipped away before Tanya had time to react. Once back in the bar, Kate walked up to the group and peeled Jess away from Lucy.
Jess had the good grace to be concerned. “You okay?”
Kate gave Jess an ‘I-told-you-so’ look. “Well, if you call okay being cornered in the toilet by Tanya who ‘wants to get to know me better’, then yes, I’m brilliant.” Kate’s cheeks were aflame. “I’m almost impressed with her utter persistence. Notice I said almost.”
Jess grimaced, then laughed. “Perhaps the George Foreman nickname wasn’t so far off the mark.”
“Perhaps not. If this was a boxing match, I’d fear for my life.”
Jess let out a bark of laughter. “She’s not that bad.”
Kate raised an eyebrow. “She’s not trying to chat you up though, is she?”
Kate managed to navigate the next half an hour without having a one-on-one with Tanya, although Tanya did keep catching her eye and attempting to make ‘meaningful contact’.
Kate was having none of it.
When it looked like Tanya might be making a beeline for her once more, Kate checked her watch and made her excuses.
After 34 years in the game, she knew when to call it a night.
11
Saturday morning and Meg had been in the shop since 6.30am. Saturdays were always her busiest day, and today had been no exception. She’d had three weddings to sort, as well as the steady footfall of passing trade once the doors opened at 9am.
Now, at 11am, she could finally afford to take a break and enjoy the cup of coffee and croissant her brother had brought in for her when he came to pick up the last delivery 15 minutes ago. Meg and Jamie hadn’t always loved each other growing up, but right at this second, Meg thought she loved him more than anybody else in the whole world. The coffee slipped down a treat and the almond croissant she’d just posted into her mouth was buttery heaven. Sometimes, food didn’t need to be fancy, it just needed to be exactly what you wanted.
Meg surveyed the store — it would have to be a quick break. The place was in desperate need of a tidy-up after her mammoth schedule this morning. Plus, Kate was due to arrive in an hour and she wanted the shop — and herself — to look presentable.
Kate. Who Meg had definitely picked up gay vibes from, but then really, what did Meg know about gaydar? Nothing. She swore she was born with a faulty one. She quite often picked out women who she’d swear were gay, right up until the moment their husband and four children pitched up and she rolled her eyes at her inability to pick another lesbian. But if Meg were asked to lay a bet on Kate, she was fairly sure it was a bet she’d win. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on her part.
Half an hour later, things were as ship-shape as she was going to get them, and she’d just sold a dozen red roses to an endearingly nervous twenty-something whose hands had shaken while he was paying her. When Meg had asked him if the roses were for any particular occasion, he’d told her he was planning to propose to his girlfriend that night. One knee, diamond ring, the works. Meg had wished him luck and smiled as he left the shop. She worked in a world swathed in romance, yet her life appeared insulated from it.
She walked through to the back kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, picking up the order book she’d left out the back too. There was a stray red rose left over from one of her wedding orders too, so with hands full, she gripped it between her teeth and strode back into the shop.
And that was where she came across Kate, looking breathtakingly cool in a long blue T-shirt, skinny jeans and brogues, with sunglasses on top of her head. She looked like she’d just walked off an advert for a better you, and Kate was the poster girl.
Meanwhile, Meg was standing with a rose between her teeth.
Kate’s face broke into a grin. “Is this how we were supposed to meet? With a red rose between our teeth? Only, I think you should have warned me. Plus, you’re a florist, so I’d say you have an unfair advantage.”
Meg quickly put down her order book and water, then removed the rose from her mouth, wiping across her mouth to check she had no greenery protruding. Her cheeks reddened as she looked back up to Kate, who was still smiling.
“Extra rose — from one of the wedding orders this morning,” Meg explained. “I short-changed them, but don’t go telling anyone.”
“Florist Ruins Wedding Day, Bride In Tears’…” Kate said, writing the headline with her hand in the air in front of her. “I can just see the scandal now.”
“You’d be surprised.” Meg’s heartbeat was slowing down. She might get over the embarrassment soon.
“Anyway, I know I’m early,” Kate began, looking at her watch. “And clearly I caught you on the hop. But I just came in to see what coffee you wanted — I’ll go and grab some from the Pret over the road.” Kate let her eyes roam up and down Meg’s body once, twice, before they settled on her face. “I’d say you’re a latte kind of girl. Or perhaps a flat white. Am I close?”
Meg scratched her ear and tilted her head to one side. “Latte? Way too milky. I’m a black coffee. Straight up, no messing.”
“I’ll remember that.” Kate didn’t miss a beat. “Black coffee. Back in a minute.” She strode out of the shop.
Meg covered her mouth with her hand. Sweet baby Jesus. But somehow she didn’t think even he could help her out of this one. Okay, so Meg had thought Kate was easy on the eye the first time she’d seen her. But this morning? She seemed to have ratcheted up her charm offensive. Television teeth, just-so hair, stylist wardrobe and an assured air.
And her butt as she’d walked out of the shop…
Meg exhaled. Okay, this was her libido talking. She’d had no action in over 18 months. Nada. She’d pulled herself out of the game, shut off that part of her life because she didn’t need the hassle.
Unless that hassle came wrapped in the guise of someone like Kate, apparently. Her body was not one to lie and her body was telling her, ‘I want this woman!’ Her body might be disappointed.
Meg put
all other thoughts out of her mind and got out the funeral brochures. If that didn’t douse her libido, nothing would. She set two chairs around the end of the counter and concentrated on being composed. She could do that, no problem.
A few minutes later, Kate swept back into the shop with coffees and two popcorn bars. She set the drinks on the table and handed a bar to Meg, who was smiling inanely and trying to keep her emotions under control. An image of pushing Kate onto the long counter-top and kissing her slow and hard flashed into Meg’s mind and her cheeks coloured even more. And she hadn’t actually thought that was physically possible.
“Have a seat,” Meg said, indicating the chair next to her. “Now, option two, wasn’t it?” Meg switched on her professional mode as she sat too, turning to Kate, who had icy cool, clear blue eyes. Did Meg’s heart just skip a beat? Good grief, her thoughts were beginning to sound like cheesy pop songs. Meg quickly stared back down into the brochures and hoped Kate would have looked away by the time she flicked her head back up.
She had.
“Yeah — option two.” Kate took a sip of her coffee.
“So a coffin spray…”
“Is it just me or is that weird?”
“Weird?”
Kate nodded. “Sounds like you’re going to graffiti the coffin.”
“I suppose it does.” Meg grinned. “We can do that if you like?”
“Don’t think my Uncle Mike was into modern art much.” Kate smiled. “Is it bad to be laughing about this?”
Meg shook her head. “Not really — death’s a part of life, and life is better with humour in it.”
“Very true.”
“So the usual flowers we go for are lilies and roses, with some chrysanthemums and berries for an autumnal feel. Mainly creams and whites, and perhaps some pale green — does that sound okay?”
Kate nodded. “Sounds perfect. And then my mum will stop moaning at me. Maybe.”
Meg took the lid off her coffee and blew on it before taking a sip. “If you could ask my mum to do the same, that would be great.”
***
They shared a conspiratorial smile about parental woes, and Kate held Meg’s gaze for way longer than was necessary for a flower consultation. But Kate couldn’t take her eyes off of Meg. No matter what she did, her vision was always drawn back, her eyes not satisfied until they’d soaked up a little bit more. She could stare at this view for hours.
Kate snapped out of her reverie as Meg opened her popcorn bar. “Thanks for the food, too — my brother brought me a croissant earlier but I’m still starving. It’s been a long day already.”
Kate opened her bar. “You put me to shame. I’ve only been up an hour and a half. And even then, I woke up with the crushing realisation I’m going to be single forever.”
Oh, hello — where had that comment come from?
Meg sat back in her chair and moved the brochures to one side, giving Kate the once over. “Why’s that then?” she asked. “I mean, I’ve only met you twice, but you seem presentable and sane. You should have a list of suitors at your door.”
Kate snorted. “Maybe they got the wrong address.” She paused. “It’s just on my mind right now because I’ve been single for a while and oh my god, I’m really over-sharing again, aren’t I? I’m not normally like this, honest. There’s clearly something about this place that brings it out of me.” Which was mildly disconcerting, to say the least.
Meg waved her hand, telling Kate it was fine. “I’m right there with you, so I get it.”
Kate sat up. Right there with you. What did that mean? That Meg was single? That she was gay? What did it mean?
Kate took another sip of her coffee. “I was set up last night with a friend of a friend.” How should Kate tell the rest of the story? In gender-neutral pronoun form, or should she out herself straight away? She had to decide, there was no time to formulate a plan.
“So yeah, I was set up for drinks last night — I took my friend and they took theirs.” Kate wasn’t feeling brave enough yet. “And while my date was attractive and had a good job, they just weren’t my type, you know?”
Kate’s cheeks hissed red as she scanned Meg’s face for any sign of reaction to the use of ‘they’ rather than ‘he’ or ‘she’. She couldn’t detect one. She ploughed on. “But the end result — another failed date.” Kate ran her finger up and down the side of her cardboard cup.
“Sometimes I think I should just give up and stay in. Take up knitting. But then something like this happens to my uncle and it makes me think I need to start getting out and living a bit more. And clearly part of that remit is to get way too personal on the second meeting with my florist.” Kate held up both palms and flashed Meg an apologetic smile. “I really am sorry for blurting out my life story to you. I’m going to drink some coffee now so my mouth can’t talk anymore.”
Kate sat back with her cup, staring at the table. So she’d come into the florist with the intention of ordering flowers while giving off an air of self-assurance. And within 15 minutes she’d blurted out she was single and doomed to a life of spinsterhood. Genius.
But when Kate looked back up at Meg, all she saw was warmth, along with a beautiful smile.
“So what exactly is your type?” Meg wasn’t laughing at Kate, she seemed genuinely interested. “Just so I know what to look out for on your behalf.” Meg shuffled some papers on the table that didn’t need shuffling.
Kate smiled back shyly. “Warm, friendly, two eyes, nose, mouth.”
“Fussy,” Meg said.
Kate let out a bark of laughter. “So my sister would say. And my flatmate. And my boss.”
“That’s a lot of fussy.” Meg sipped her coffee and contemplated. “You know what I think?”
Kate sucked on the inside of her cheek. “No, but I think you’re about to tell me.”
“I think you don’t need to worry. You’re good-looking, intelligent and have good taste in flowers. When it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen. So stop stressing. And you owe me £20 for this mini-counselling session.” Meg let a grin spread across her face.
“Well worth it. I might make it a regular feature of my Saturday morning routine.” Kate locked eyes with Meg and her stomach fell. Hang on, had Meg just called her good-looking?
“I wouldn’t mind one bit.”
Another wave of longing rumbled through Kate. Good grief, Meg was one hot florist.
“Can I use your loo?” Kate asked, getting up.
Meg showed her through to the back and Kate gratefully disappeared into the bathroom, turning the lock and closing her eyes. This meeting was a straight-up mixture of disaster and farce in equal measure. Why had she rambled on about her love life when she’d met this woman only once before? She needed to brush up her flirting skills. But being around Meg appeared to render Kate incapable of logical thought.
Kate flushed the toilet and ran the tap, eyeballing herself in the mirror. Okay, calm. She could do this. Go out, settle up and walk out of the shop without tripping over any flowers or her laces. Piece of cake.
When Kate walked back through, Meg was tidying up the brochures, looking gorgeous against the backdrop of flowers all around. Her hair was artfully messy, her Camper shoes adding the necessary dash of funk.
When she heard Kate, Meg looked up and flashed her an all-conquering smile.
Kate was rendered incapable once more.
She just managed to make it through payment, and then they stared at one another, in the manner of what Kate assumed happened in Hollywood films. Kate didn’t want this to be there final meeting, but did Meg feel the same? There was definite hesitation in her words and movement.
“So, I hope the funeral goes well on Monday.” Meg held Kate’s gaze once more.
Kate simply gulped. “Will we see you there?” Say we will.
But Meg shook her head. “No — we deliver the flowers to the funeral home and they take it from there.” She paused, looking pained. “So I guess this is goodbye.”
<
br /> Kate stood rooted to the spot. How could she be feeling like this after less than an hour in this woman’s company? “I suppose so.”
“But you know, if you need any more flowers, you know where I am,” Meg said.
A lifeline. Kate was drowning, and Meg had just thrown her a rubber ring.
“I do. And I will.” This was the upbeat ending Kate was after. She smiled broadly at Meg and held out her right hand. Meg’s handshake was firm yet soft, and Kate imagined what it might be like to be caressed by those hands, held by those hands.
And then she bit her lip so hard, she tasted blood. “Until my next flower emergency, it was lovely to see you again.”
Meg smiled. “You too. Take care.”
Kate turned and walked towards the door.
“Oh, and Kate?”
Kate turned back, her shoes squeaking as she did.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
12
Uncle Mike’s funeral went off without a hitch and the flowers were beautiful — just like the woman who put them together. The funeral wake was at the local golf club, and Vicky was dressed in red, holding no truck with funeral traditions. As Vicky had decided at Dad’s funeral, these occasions were a celebration of someone’s life, not a day of compound misery. And true to her word, Vicky had held it together that day, while Mum and Kate had fallen to pieces.
“I thought Mum told us Mike had no mates?” Vicky raised an eyebrow as she surveyed the packed club.
“Apparently, Mum didn’t know him very well,” Kate replied.
Vicky’s husband Jack put an arm around his wife’s shoulder. Despite being clean-shaven, his five o’clock shadow was still pronounced. “If this is what no mates looks like, make sure you rent some for mine.” Jack loosened his black tie and nodded his head towards the bar. “Drinks, ladies?”
Vicky stroked the side of his face and then headed south to pat his bum. “Two wines would be delightful, husband.” She looked at Kate. “White wine okay?”
“Fine,” Kate said.
While Jack brushed past her, his Ralph Lauren cologne coating her nostrils, Kate scanned the room and was again impressed with the turnout — there were at least 80 guests present. Laughter reverberated off the walls as sausage rolls were munched, tea poured and beers uncapped. Kate counted three different types of quiches dotted along the spread, along with cold meats, bread, cheese and four types of salad.