by Ali McNamara
‘But how did she help you?’ I begin to ask, as Jake automatically reaches into his pocket and hands Richie a ten-pound note.
‘You bought the round earlier,’ I protest, reaching for my purse. ‘Let me pay for this one.’
‘No, I didn’t, it was free, remember?’ Jake says. ‘Plus I can’t have ladies buying me drinks.’
I look to Belle for support, but she doesn’t say anything, she simply picks up her wine glass and takes a sip, so I’m torn between pressing Richie for more information about my grandmother, and pursuing this misdemeanour on Jake’s part.
‘Don’t be so old fashioned,’ I tell Jake, letting Richie escape along the bar to new customers, after Jake refuses his offer of change. ‘Women can buy men drinks.’
‘Hmm… yeah, I know,’ Jake says, absent-mindedly sipping on his own pint and looking around to see if there’s a table for us. ‘Belle, is that a table over there? Are those folk leaving?’
Belle moves along the bar to take a look.
‘But you don’t like it though, do you?’ I persist, the feminist in me bubbling to the surface.
‘What?’ he asks, turning back to me.
‘The thought of me buying you a drink?’
‘I can’t say I’ve given the thought of you buying me a drink any consideration, since we only met for the first time this afternoon. Oh look, Belle’s waving, she’s got that table.’
Jake summons Miley and starts to make his way across to the other side of the pub, so I have no choice but to follow him. Oh my God he can be so irritating. How did he always seem to get the better of me, whatever I said? And more to the point, why did I care so much about someone who, as he had quite rightly pointed out a few seconds ago, I’d only just met?
‘So what are you going to do with the flower shop?’ Belle asks after we’ve been sat down a while.
I’d misjudged Belle when I’d first met her. Aside from her perfection, and her obvious interest in Jake, she is very nice. Belle seems to be one of those very irritating, naturally pretty people that you want to hate, but can’t find any reason to.
‘I’m not sure right now,’ I reply truthfully in answer to her question. ‘The shop stirs up a lot of memories for me – some good, some bad. Part of me would be relieved to see the back of it, but then another part…’
‘Doesn’t want to let it go?’ Belle answers knowingly.
I nod. ‘Yes. However, what I do know is I’m not really cut out for selling flowers, it’s definitely not my thing.’
‘What makes you say that?’ she asks, sounding genuinely interested.
‘I just know,’ I tell her, without explaining further. ‘Whatever happens with the shop, me and flowers – it’s never going to happen.’
Jake smiles into his beer.
‘What’s so amusing?’ I ask.
‘Nothing,’ he says, swilling his pint around, still grinning. But then he changes his mind and looks up at me. ‘Well… you actually.’
‘Go on,’ I tell him, as my arms automatically fold across my body protectively. I lean back in my chair and I raise one eyebrow.
Teresa, my current therapist, would have a fit if she could see me now. This was exactly the type of pose she’d spent months easing me out of adopting every time I felt threatened. That was the next stage after coming up with strategies to prevent me from verbally attacking anyone who I felt criticised me in any way.
‘For someone so young, you’re very set in your ways,’ Jake says, regarding me thoughtfully.
I’m unsure which part of his statement to tackle first, so I take both at the same time. ‘Firstly, I’m not sure what you mean by young? I’m thirty, so I’m hardly a teenager.’ Both Belle and Jake look astonished by this. Which does not surprise me; most people think I’m younger than I am. I guess I should be flattered. ‘And as for “set in my ways”,’ I continue, before Jake can speak, ‘what about you, back there at the bar?’ I gesture towards Rita, who’s pulling a pint. ‘“I can’t have ladies buying me drinks,”’ I say in a deep, dull-sounding voice, supposedly mimicking Jake, when really he sounds nothing like this at all. His voice is deep, but it’s also gentle and soft at the same time. ‘However,’ I eye Jake across the table, ‘I guess you can’t help being stuck in your ways when you reach your age, can you?’
Belle sits with her empty wine glass held up to her lips, her mouth open in astonishment as she witnesses my acerbic response.
Jake watches me, his impassive face not telling me anything at all.
‘I’m forty this year, since we’re sharing birthdays,’ he says steadily. ‘Don’t worry about a card though, and I know you won’t be sending flowers. It’s not your thing, is it?’
Damn, he’s got me again!
I’m about to reply when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
I turn to find a small, slim woman with auburn hair pulled up into a tight chignon standing behind me. She’s wearing a navy cardigan, a white blouse, a string of tiny pearls around her neck, and tan three-quarter-length trousers with flat black pumps.
‘Caroline Harrington-Smythe,’ she says, thrusting a cold hand into mine.
‘Hi…’ I reply, cautiously shaking her hand.
‘You know who I am, obviously, so I won’t go through the formal introductions. Jake, Belle,’ she says, nodding curtly at them both.
‘Actually, I don’t,’ I say, feeling like I should put my hand up before I ask her a question.
She looks extremely put out by my admission, as though anyone entering St Felix should have been given a leaflet explaining who Caroline Harrington-Smythe is, with her opening times, fire exit locations and parking arrangements included.
‘Oh… oh, I see.’ She glares at a smirking Jake. He hastily picks up his near-empty pint glass and tries to find a few last dregs at the bottom. ‘Let me start again then,’ she says in her clipped, cultured voice. ‘I’m Caroline Harrington-Smythe, president of the St Felix Women’s Guild, and chairwoman of the Parish Council.’
She waits for my response.
I stare blankly back at her. Am I supposed to congratulate her on her achievements?
She sighs impatiently when I don’t respond. ‘Rita behind the bar informs me you are the new owner of the flower shop on Harbour Street?’
‘Yes, that’s correct.’
‘Only the Women’s Guild have been running the flower shop for some time now —’
‘Yes, thank you, it was very kind —’
‘— and I’m not sure how the ladies are going to react to this news. The Daisy Chain has become very dear to them. Have you purchased the shop?’
‘No, I’m Rose’s granddaughter. She left it to me in her will.’
‘You, are her granddaughter?’ she asks, her eyes wide, as though this information has come as something of a shock to her.
‘Yes, does that cause you a problem?’
I don’t know whether Caroline has this effect on everyone, but judging by Jake’s reaction to her arrival at our table tonight I suspect she probably does. All I know is she’s beginning to wind me right up.
‘That depends on what you intend to do with the shop.’ Caroline straightens her cardigan in a business-like manner. ‘We can’t have just anything on Harbour Street. If you’re thinking of selling up, then the Parish Council need to be informed.’
‘Like I keep telling everyone,’ I glance around the table at the other two, ‘I’m not sure what I’m going to do with the shop yet. I haven’t decided.’
Caroline’s steely grey eyes look me up and down. ‘I have to say, you don’t look the florist type,’ she announces with disdain. ‘Perhaps it is time for a change?’
My usual reaction to this sort of provocation would be to bite immediately, but we’re in a public place and people are beginning to look. I don’t want to cause a scene on my first day here. So I bite my lip instead.
‘Your grandmother was never much of a businesswoman,’ Caroline continues. ‘The shop wasn’t exactly raking in money
when she had it. I should know, I saw the books when I was in charge. I think bringing in fresh blood to St Felix could be just what the town needs, and you must admit the shop is starting to look rather shabby.’
Enough.
I push my chair back and stand up to face her, and I’m surprised to find that I tower over her tiny frame. Her forceful manner had given the illusion she was much bigger.
‘Maybe my grandmother’s shop wasn’t the newest, or the most sleek,’ I tell her, surprised to hear a clear, calm voice coming from between my bright-red cheeks. ‘But it had something else you may have failed to notice, Caroline, though many others did… it had heart.’
I feel my legs shaking as I stand there facing her. Public displays of emotion are definitely not my thing either. But something had ignited inside me when I’d heard Caroline dissing my grandmother and her shop, and I had to respond.
Caroline looks as surprised as I feel by my outburst. She glares at me, then glances around the room to see if anyone else is hearing this. As people sense an argument brewing, the pub is already beginning to quieten.
‘I’m surprised I didn’t recognise you to be Rose’s granddaughter before,’ she says, obviously deciding she needs to save face by taking this battle on. ‘The family likeness is definitely there.’ Then, as if she can’t quite stop herself from saying something to goad me, she adds, ‘She was a troublemaker too.’
‘Oooh,’ I hear Jake say, as he watches Caroline and me begin to battle it out. ‘Fifteen–thirty. Poppy to serve.’
‘My grandmother – a troublemaker?’ I question, desperately trying to remain calm. ‘I doubt that. She was a good, kind woman. She lived in this town nearly all her life, she loved it here, and she loved her shop. How long have you been in St Felix, Caroline? Long enough to make you an expert on the place, apparently.’
‘Thirty all,’ Jake whispers, loud enough for us to hear him.
Caroline raises a knowing eyebrow at me. ‘In all the time I’ve lived here I’ve never seen you visiting her shop, Poppy. What sort of granddaughter does that make you?’
Sharp intake of breath from Jake, and a murmur of, ‘Thirty–forty.’
Calm, Poppy, I tell myself. You must remain calm.
‘And you know everyone that passes through this town, do you?’ I ask, my face reddening still further as I feel my fists clench by my sides. ‘Oh, that’s right, I bet you’re the local busybody, nosing into everybody else’s business, so of course you’d know.’
Caroline is the one with the red face now as I hear a few sniggers around the pub.
‘Deuce!’ Jake calls, and we both glare at him.
Caroline opens her mouth to defend, but I gain the advantage.
‘I should like to thank the ladies of the St Felix Women’s Guild very much for helping to keep my grandmother’s shop up and running, it was most kind of you.’ I smile in the direction of the table some of the ladies are still sitting at, although most have gone home now as Richie has already called last orders. Then I score the winning point: ‘But I’m here now, Caroline. The Daisy Chain is now my concern, and no one else’s. I may not be the perfect granddaughter, or the perfect person to run a flower shop, but I’m prepared to give it a damn good try, and I’m going to do it in a way that would have made my grandmother proud!’
I stop as I realise what I’ve just said. Oh no! Me and my big mouth – my mother was right.
Have I just stood and publicly agreed to run a flower shop?
I turn towards Jake and see he’s grinning. ‘Game, set and match!’ he mouths at me.
It seems I have.
Then I hear applause break out from behind the bar as Rita begins cheering.
‘Yay for Poppy and our magical flower shop.’
Magical? There’s that word again.
As people offer to buy me drinks and congratulate me on my new venture, I notice Caroline has melted away with the rest of her cronies. But I have a feeling it won’t be the last I see of her. I’ve met the Carolines of this world before; they don’t take defeat well.
‘So,’ Jake says, when my temporary fan club has dispersed. ‘It looks like you might be needing that chat about flowers after all…’
Seven
Gerbera Daisy – Cheerfulness
The next morning I awake early to sunshine streaming through the curtains in the bedroom downstairs.
Yuck, I’m used to sleeping with blackout blinds in London. I immediately roll over, pull the eiderdown over my head and try to get off to sleep again. But I can’t, my mind begins churning over the events of yesterday, particularly last night, so I roll on to my back and stare up at the uneven ceiling above me.
After my accidental admission about the shop, Jake had walked me back to my cottage, and then taken himself off home, sensibly leaving his van at the harbour because he’d been drinking. He didn’t mention anything more about the shop, obviously sensing by my silence I had much to think about, and for that I was grateful.
What on earth had possessed me to announce that to Caroline and the rest of the pub? I was no more certain I wanted to stay on in St Felix and run the shop than I was of the coastal weather forecast.
But as I’d said to Jake only yesterday, if I say I’m going to do something, I do it. I don’t back down.
However, by sticking to my guns this time, it would mean I’d have to give this flower shop thing a go. Flowers and me. I screw up my face. Not exactly a match made in heaven.
It’s getting quite warm in the little bedroom now, and I wonder if perhaps today will be a nice sunny day in St Felix, and I’ll get to see the town in a better light. I kick the eiderdown off, and begin thinking again:
Would staying for a while in this quiet little seaside town really be so bad?
What had I got to look forward to if I went back on my word and sold the shop and cottage and returned to London? I’d just been fired from the hotel job, I didn’t really have any friends, and I lived in a tiny flat above an off-licence in Barnet, having insisted on paying my own way when my mother wanted me to take a job in Violet and Petal’s shop in Liverpool. Also I’d have an excuse not to visit Teresa for a while; her receptionist had been chasing me to reschedule the appointment I’d cancelled four times already. Much to my annoyance, my mother had insisted on continuing to pay for my therapy, even when I had taken to paying for everything else. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t get away from it.
But selling flowers… Just the thought of it is making me feel very uneasy indeed.
Maybe I could get someone in to help me? Then I might not have to have too much contact with the flowers. I could concentrate on the day-to-day running of the shop, and let my assistant do the rest!
Brilliant! Yes, I could try that for a while, and if it didn’t work out I could leave before the rough winter weather set in. It might be nice to spend the summer here in St Felix…
I lie there in bed, happy that I have a plan, and not a bad one by my standards. One that will not only keep my mother happy, it will appease the people of St Felix for a while.
Suddenly I hear banging on the front door.
‘Who on earth is that at…?’ I glance at the bedside clock and realise it’s nearly 8 a.m. I must have been lying here thinking longer than I thought.
I get up off the bed and head through the hall and across the kitchen in my PJs. Then I open the wooden front door and peek through the gap.
I don’t know who or what I expect to find standing outside my door at 8 a.m. on a Tuesday morning, but it’s not the riot of colour, wild hair, and general exuberance that greets me.
‘Oh boy, are you Poppy?’ she asks, trying to poke her head through the gap.
I open the door a bit wider.
‘Yes…’ I say hesitantly. ‘Who are you?’
‘Amber – your mom sent me,’ she says, as though I should know exactly what she means.
‘She did?’
‘Yeah, to help you with the shop. She did tell you, right?’
<
br /> ‘Nope.’
‘That’s odd. She said she was gonna call you…’ Amber appears to be thinking. She runs a bejewelled hand over her wild red hair while she screws up her freckled nose. ‘It is Wednesday, right?’ she suddenly asks.
‘No, it’s Tuesday.’
‘Ah!’ She throws her hands up in the air. ‘That’s why. She’s supposed to call you today. I must have lost a day somewhere over the Atlantic.’ She looks at me and smiles. ‘Can I come in?’