by Ali McNamara
I stare out into the crowd, and they look awkwardly back at me, and then at each other, wondering if I’ve finished or not, and whether they should applaud.
‘Ribbon, Poppy!’ Jake prompts helpfully. ‘Cut the ribbon!’
I jump. ‘Yes! The ribbon, of course!’ I place the blades of the scissors either side of the white ribbon. ‘So, without further ado, I would like to declare the all-new Daisy Chain flower shop well and truly open!’
I cut through the ribbon, and as the two pieces fall to either side there’s a polite round of applause. Then I stand back and accept their congratulations as one by one the people of St Felix – for that’s who all these early visitors are – enter the shop, exclaiming with joy how pretty it is, how much it’s changed, and how proud Rose would be to see it up and running once more.
‘Well done, Poppy!’ Lou says as she munches on a cupcake decorated with a daisy. ‘Rose would be delighted to see this, and very proud of you for making it happen.’
‘It wasn’t just me,’ I insist, waving my hand in front of my face to get some air. Is it really that hot in here? No one else seems to think so. ‘I couldn’t have done it without everyone’s help – especially Amber and Jake.’ I look towards the shop door, wondering if we should prop it open, but I find it’s already open as people continue to pour in.
‘Did I hear my name?’ Jake calls, weaving his way through the crowd towards us. ‘I was just looking for Miley, but she’s happy over there handing out posies for Amber.’
I look over to the desk and see Miley passing Amber’s mini posies out to everyone, whether they want one or not. I turn and smile at Jake. ‘I was saying how I couldn’t have opened the shop up like this without your and Amber’s help.’
Jake smiles at me, and then for some bizarre reason I feel the need to reach up and kiss him on the cheek. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper.
He stares at me for a moment. ‘Not a problem,’ he says quietly, still looking at me. Then he clears his throat. ‘So, that was quite a speech you gave out there – you seem to have lost your fear of speaking to people.’
‘What do you mean? I’m not afraid of speaking to people. I just —’
‘Yeah, yeah, you just prefer being on your own. I remember.’
He winks and I want to glare at him, but I can’t. Instead I find myself smiling wryly as I gaze up into his kind, thoughtful eyes.
We get jostled and separated as the shop continues to fill with people, and I wonder as I watch Jake take up polite conversation with Harriet if the townsfolk’s interest has been piqued by the thought of a new florist on Harbour Street, or more likely by the smell of a free cupcake.
I’m aware as I stand here, continuing to greet people like a bride on her wedding day, with a polite word of thanks and a smile, that I’m getting hotter by the minute. I’m aware that it’s happening again, and if I don’t do something to rectify the situation very soon I’m going to be in big trouble.
I look around the shop as yet another person squeezes inside; Amber seems to be in her element, showing off our new shop. She looks gorgeous in her outfit, a long, flowing green velvet dress, with graceful bell-shaped sleeves edged with gold. With her long auburn tresses cascading down over her shoulders, she’s almost fairy-like as she flits around the shop amongst all the flowers.
The flowers.
There are just too many of them in here today. When Jake began unloading them early this morning, I’d almost fainted there and then at the sight and intense sweet smell that greeted me when he opened the back doors of his van.
Over the years, I’d learned to deal with seeing a few flowers provided it was just a few at a time. I could handle seeing the odd bunch outside a petrol station, in a vase in someone’s home – that kind of minor floral exposure didn’t faze me at all, as long as there weren’t too many roses. And while they weren’t my favourite places, I’d coped with visiting the odd florist’s shop when I had to – with my family, I didn’t have a lot of choice.
It hadn’t been easy, but I’d managed to deal with my issues with flowers in my own way, and as a result I’d thought, perhaps naïvely, I was going to be able to deal with this.
That was one of the reasons I’d wanted the shop to sell floral merchandise as well as real flowers; I thought the less fresh flowers we had in here at one time, the easier it might be for me. When Jake had unloaded his van this morning we’d been standing outside, so I was able to take a deep breath of the sea breeze wafting up Harbour Street. Perhaps a few gulps of salty air would quash the nausea that was beginning to overwhelm me now.
Slowly I edge towards the door. As I do, the room begins to spin, and all the chattering voices seem to blend into one. The scent of the flowers is overpowering with this many people squeezed in here, and I can pick out the scent of the roses so easily they might as well be the only flower in here…
Panic sets in as I realise I’m stuck in an enclosed space full of flowers and people, my two worst nightmares… My throat feels tight, my head’s spinning, and I can’t breathe. So I throw myself through the door, out on to the cobbles outside.
As I begin to gulp in long, deep, healing breaths of sea air, I still feel a little dizzy, as if I might faint, so I hold on to the doorframe for support.
‘Don’t you like crowds?’
The voice makes me jump. It’s Charlie, Jake’s son. He’s leaning against the shop window, watching everything that’s going on inside with a disinterested look on his face.
‘No, not any more,’ I reply, turning to face him. ‘Do you?’
He shrugs. ‘Nah, never have. Bronte’s always trying to get me to take her to these concerts, up in Bristol – mosh-pit jobs. Dad won’t let her go on her own. But I can’t see the fascination myself. Who wants to be squashed into a tiny space with a load of drunks for hours on end with nowhere to pee and everyone smelling of BO? Not my idea of fun.’
‘You sound like my brother,’ I tell him, as another familiar, unpleasant feeling begins to build inside me. ‘He never liked those sort of gigs either.’
‘Sensible fella,’ Charlie says, putting his hands into his pockets and turning so his back is against the window.
‘Yes,’ I say, thinking about Will. ‘He was.’
Charlie briefly turns his head to look at me, but doesn’t ask any further questions. And I like him all the more for that.
‘You gonna go back in?’ he asks, with a nod in the direction of the shop.
I shake my head. ‘Not right now.’
‘Probably best, looking at the state of you,’ Charlie says. ‘You’re mighty white. You wanna go for a walk – get some air?’
‘I would love to.’ I smile gratefully. ‘But it’s my shop, I can’t just leave everyone.’
‘Ah…’ Charlie says knowingly. ‘And there was me thinking you were a bit of a rebel with your black clothes and your Docs ’n’ all.’
I stare at him. ‘Say that again.’
He looks puzzled. ‘Which part? About your Docs?’
I shake my head.
‘Oh… about you being a rebel?’ He grins. ‘So you are one then?’
I glance into the shop, and amongst all the people I can just make out my grandmother’s wooden desk, and for a brief moment I’m transported back in time…
‘Charlie Asher, you’re about to find out.’
Sixteen
Periwinkle – Tender Recollections
Charlie and I run off together like a couple of school kids – well, technically Charlie is a school kid, but I don’t want to think about that now – along the harbour, back out through the town and up Pengarthen Hill towards the cliffs that tower above St Felix Bay.
I know I shouldn’t have run off like that, not on our opening day, but if I’d stayed inside the shop in amongst the flowers and the crowds I would have passed out. It’s happened before, and I don’t want people making a fuss. It’s bad enough I have these issues, without everyone knowing about it. I’ve been dealing with it pretty m
uch on my own for fifteen years, and aside from the odd therapist I’d spent time with, I had no intention of sharing my reasons why I felt like this with anyone.
The wind high up on the cliffs is strong and gusty, and it blows my hair around my face so much I have to keep pushing it away so I can see where we’re going. But I don’t care; up here all those feelings of nausea and dizziness have gone. In fact they disappeared practically the moment we ran from the shop.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask Charlie, as eventually we stop climbing the footpath that leads up and away from St Felix, and he begins to cut across the grass towards the sea.
‘You’ll see,’ he says. ‘Be careful though, the ground is a bit unstable underfoot.’
I stop for a moment to look around. We’ve reached a sort of junction in the footpath; one way leads up to Trecarlan Castle, and the other further along the cliffs.
I hesitate, debating which route to take – the castle holds such special memories for me, I must take time to go up and visit while I’m here. It’s not far away from this spot at all.
But Charlie has stepped off the path and is rapidly descending the grassy slope of the cliff, so I begin to follow him, watching my footing as I go. But when I next look up, Charlie has disappeared.
‘Charlie?’ I call out. Where has he gone?
I’m beginning to have visions of him lying in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the cliffs when I hear his voice.
‘Down here, Poppy!’
I can just see the top of his blond head poking up from below me.
‘How did you get down there?’ I ask, sitting down on a grassy mound on the side of the cliff so I can edge forward enough to see where he is.
‘Look to the left of you,’ he calls. ‘There’s some rough steps carved into the side of the cliff. If you take those – carefully, mind – it’ll bring you down here.’
I look where he suggests and find there are indeed some worn stone steps half-hidden by the long grass and wild flowers that have grown up around them.
I clutch the tufts of grass on the side of the cliff as I descend gingerly down the narrow steps, making sure I have a secure foothold before I attempt the next. We are perilously close to the cliff edge here and the jagged rocks that poke up menacingly from the waves that crash below me. So it’s not until I get to the very bottom step, and on to firm ground again, that I dare to look up properly.
‘Wow,’ I exclaim as I find myself standing next to Charlie in a tiny hollow of smooth stone that cuts into the side of the cliff. ‘This is amazing!’
But it’s not only our little viewing platform that’s astounding me – remarkable though it is, hidden away down here – but our view.
From our hidey-hole tucked into the side of the cliff, we can see nothing but deep blue sea and pale blue sky extending for miles and miles into the distance.
‘What an incredible view,’ I tell him as I stare out at the never-ending seascape. ‘How on earth did you find this? By accident?’
‘Yeah.’ Charlie sits down cross-legged on some dry bracken that’s obviously been left here on purpose for people to sit comfortably for long periods and gaze out at the view, so I sit down next to him. ‘When my mum died I needed somewhere to come to get away from everything, and one day I found this place while I was out wandering, not knowing what to do with myself.’
‘That was lucky,’ I say, and immediately feel stupid. Why could I never say the right thing in these situations? ‘I mean, we all need somewhere to go when we lose someone close to us.’
Charlie looks across at me.
‘Have you then?’
‘What?’
‘Lost someone close to you?’
I hesitate for a moment. ‘Yes, my grandmother,’ I say swiftly. ‘That’s why I’m here in St Felix, isn’t it?’
‘Ah yes, of course.’ Charlie nods. ‘Your grandma. I forgot. Sorry.’
We sit and watch the gulls for a few minutes as they circle over the sea, waiting for the chance to dive down and snatch a fish from the waters below.
‘So why don’t you like crowds then?’ Charlie asks. ‘You were obviously having problems in the shop earlier.’
‘I had an incident involving a big crowd when I was younger. I’ve had a bit of a phobia ever since.’
‘Oh.’ Charlie pauses to think. ‘Is that why it was so easy for me to persuade you to leave?’
‘Maybe. That and some other stuff.’
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Charlie asks, sounding as awkward as I’d felt earlier when he mentioned his mum. ‘That’s what people always ask, isn’t it? I’m not sure they always want to listen, though, when they say that.’
I smile at him. ‘No, not really. I’ve done too much talking over the years, to be honest. Not sure it ever helped that much.’
‘Me too,’ Charlie says. ‘After Mum, we all had counselling – lots of counselling.’ He pulls a face. ‘I think it helped Bronte, but she was younger. Not too sure about Dad, he kept everything hidden. But then he’s like that about most things. I reckon Miley helped him more than any counsellor ever did.’
‘Really?’ I think about Jake and Miley, and how they seem to dote on each other.
‘Yeah, thank God for Aunt Kate and Uncle Bob in the US, that’s all I can say. Dad was in a real bad way before they asked him to take Miley. Once she became a part of our family, life seemed to start getting better – not just for him, but for all of us. It was a real turning point in our recovery as a family. We have a lot to thank that monkey for.’
‘She’s a lovely little thing.’
‘Miley?’ Charlie pulls a face. ‘You want to try living with her! Stroppier than Bronte ever knows how to be is that one.’
I grin. ‘Your sister isn’t so bad. You should have known me when I was young.’
‘Bit of a rebel, were you?’ Charlie asks, winking at me. ‘You seemed to like it when I called you that before.’
‘Definitely. I was much worse than your sister.’
‘I can’t believe that!’ Charlie looks sceptical.
I hesitate. ‘Well, apart from messing up all my GCSEs, and getting into a lot of trouble at school, I got in trouble with the law too.’
Charlie looks surprised. ‘How bad?’
‘Bad enough to get me arrested a few times. Let’s just say a night in a police cell soon cures you of a rebellious streak.’
‘I bet. Was the rebellion anything to do with your brother? You mentioned before he was quite sensible.’
‘Gosh, look at those dark clouds over there,’ I say, suddenly pointing to some clouds that are probably a good hour away from us yet. ‘Perhaps we should be getting back.’ I glance at Charlie, and hope he doesn’t realise what I’m doing. We’ve been getting on well until this moment, but I can’t talk about Will with anyone.
‘Sure,’ Charlie says, standing up. ‘I understand. But you know where this place is now, so if you ever find things are getting a bit too much, it’s always here for you like it’s been here for me.’
I’m about to thank him when he continues.
‘You know, I lied before,’ he says, looking me right in the eye. ‘About finding this place. I made it sound as though I stumbled across it by accident.’
‘And didn’t you?’
‘I did stumble across it,’ he says, turning and looking out to sea. ‘But it was because I was thinking about jumping.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Jumping,’ Charlie says, ‘into the sea. It was just after Mum died, and things were at their absolute worst at home. So when I say I stumbled across it, my stumble luckily took me down these very steps, and landed me where we are now. If it hadn’t… well, I probably wouldn’t be talking to you today. This place saved me, in more ways than one.’
I can’t believe he’s told me this. I’ve been in some dark places over the years, but I’ve never attempted to take my own life. But as usual, faced with someone else’s emotions, I have no idea how to respond.<
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‘Thank you, Charlie…’ I hesitate. I feel like I should hug him, but I don’t want to make either of us uncomfortable. ‘I know how hard it is to share that kind of stuff. Really I do.’