The Little Flower Shop by the Sea

by Ali McNamara

  I nod hurriedly. ‘Perhaps that’s why you don’t remember Stan then. He must have left before you arrived.’

  ‘Stan sounds fabulous,’ Amber says. ‘I love elderly people – they have so many interesting stories to tell.’

  ‘You’d love Stan then, he was always telling stories. Not all of which I think were true.’

  ‘You still haven’t explained why you’re going to hold a wedding at the castle though,’ Jake persists.

  I quickly fill him in on what happened in the shop earlier.

  ‘Well, good luck with that,’ he says, looking doubtful. ‘I can’t see Caroline letting you hold a wedding there.’

  ‘Why not? She doesn’t own Trecarlan.’

  ‘You’d think she did the way she carries on. She’s very protective of it. But then Caroline seems to have taken it upon herself to be in charge of all of St Felix.’

  ‘Well, not this time,’ I say. ‘Trecarlan was Stan’s house, not hers, and I intend to breathe some life back into the old place with or without Caroline Harrington-Smythe’s permission!’

  We talk about the wedding and Trecarlan some more, deciding that if I am going to try and hold a wedding at the castle next month, not only will I need the blessing of the Parish Council, but the help of some of the townsfolk of St Felix too.

  ‘You need to hold a meeting,’ Woody suggests. ‘The people here are very helpful, and I know they’ll chip in, like they did with your shop.’

  Jake nods. ‘He’s right, whatever you might dislike about living in a tight-knit community, the people here always try to help each other when someone’s in need.’

  ‘That’s what I love about this place,’ Amber says affectionately, ‘the closeness. Coming from New York, it’s like a different world.’

  ‘Do you miss it?’ Jake asks. ‘Being here in little old St Felix can hardly compare to the Big Apple.’

  ‘I miss the energy,’ Amber says. ‘Nothing can compare to the buzz of Manhattan. And of course I miss my friends and family over there, big time. And I’ll definitely miss New York in the fall this year.’

  ‘Is it pretty?’ Woody asks. ‘I’ve never been to America.’

  ‘Oh yes, very. If you go upstate, the colours are even more intense and beautiful than in the city.’

  ‘It sounds amazing, Amber,’ Woody says, hanging off her every word like a puppy waiting for a treat from its master. ‘I’d love to go there one day. I’m sure it’s wonderful.’

  ‘It is, Woody, you’d love it. But St Felix is a wonderful place too, don’t ever doubt that. I miss things about the States, sure, but here –’ she gestures around the room – ‘in this friendly pub, on the beautiful sandy beaches, walking the quaint little streets, and visiting your olde worlde harbour with its colourful boats bobbing around – it’s…’ She searches for the right word. ‘It’s safe. Here in St Felix I feel safe, like nothing or no one is going to get to me.’

  I notice that Amber’s bottom lip is quivering as she finishes her impromptu speech. She hurriedly picks up her almost empty pint glass and drains the last of her second Guinness of the night.

  ‘If Richie doesn’t hurry up with those meals, I’ll be quite tipsy soon,’ she says, and her eyes are a bit misty. ‘That’s what you Brits say, isn’t it – tipsy?’

  We all nod, touched at Amber’s emotional speech, but at the same time mystified.

  ‘Right then, my round!’ she announces in a tight voice. ‘Same again, everyone?’

  Without waiting for an answer, Amber leaps up and heads off to the bar.

  ‘Is she OK?’ Woody asks, looking worriedly after her. ‘She seems a bit upset.’

  I watch Amber at the bar as she waits to order from Rita.

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ I say, remembering what my mother said on the phone yesterday. ‘But I have a feeling there might be a bit more to our Amber than a few crystal beads and some incense. I think she’s hiding something.’

  ‘What sort of something?’ Jake asks, looking up at Amber waiting at the bar.

  ‘I’m not sure. But knowing St Felix, whatever it is, I bet being here is already making it better.’

  Twenty-seven

  Lobelia – Malevolence

  Amber and I stand together in the ballroom of Trecarlan, the evening sun filtering through the windows and highlighting the dust covering every surface, and the cobwebs hanging from each corner of the room.

  ‘I didn’t know it was this bad,’ Amber says, looking around her. ‘How are we going to transform this into a wedding venue?’

  ‘We will. I’ve already had numerous offers of help from people in St Felix.’

  The offers had started coming in that night at the pub. As soon as we’d told Rita and Richie what we were hoping to do for Katie and Jonathan, they’d immediately begun putting the word out with their customers. News spreads fast around St Felix, and I’d been inundated with people volunteering to help with the cleaning-up process, or offering to lend a hand with the décor, music and catering.

  So all I had to do now was turn the offers into something concrete and we’d be away. I’d called an emergency meeting of the Parish Council to discuss what I wanted to do, and we were meeting with them on Thursday to get the go-ahead.

  ‘We’re only here today,’ I tell Amber, ‘to work out exactly how we’re going to run this. I’ve never done anything like it before, have you?’

  Amber shakes her head. ‘And to think a couple of days ago I was worrying about a few flowers! Now you’ve got us organising the whole wedding. How did that happen?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I shrug. ‘This really isn’t my sort of thing at all. I just wanted to help them, you know. They seem such a lovely couple.’

  ‘Ahh…’ Amber points to my chest. ‘I told you there was a heart in there somewhere, and I think we’ve finally found it!’

  ‘You’re hilarious,’ I tell her, rolling my eyes. ‘How about you get that pad out of your handbag while I stop laughing, then we can start making some notes.’

  ‘Don’t bother, Amber!’ A shrill voice which sounds worryingly like Caroline’s calls across the ballroom. ‘Because no wedding is going to be held here.’

  We both turn to see Caroline striding across the ballroom floor wearing a navy Barbour jacket and green Hunter wellington boots.

  ‘What makes you think you can tell us what to do?’ I snap, annoyed that she’s already trying to ruin things. Caroline and I haven’t had much to do with each other since my first night here in St Felix, but I’ve bumped into her enough around the town, and heard so many negative things about her from people that I know her reputation is well deserved. She could make real trouble for us if she put her mind to it.

  ‘Because the Parish Council simply won’t allow it,’ Caroline says, untying a paisley scarf from her head. ‘You don’t have a licence, for one thing.’

  ‘A licence?’ Amber asks, bewildered.

  ‘Yes, my American friend,’ Caroline gloats, patting her hair into place. ‘A building here in England needs to be approved by the local council to make it legal to hold a civil wedding ceremony on the premises. If you try to hold your wedding here it will be illegal and I shall have you arrested.’

  ‘Oh really?’ I ask, trying not to look smug.

  ‘Yes, I think you’ll find that’s the law,’ Caroline smirks, folding her arms in front of her tiny chest.

  I smile back at her with equal warmth. ‘Except, Caroline, we don’t want to hold the ceremony here, only the reception. And that, as far as I’m aware, does not require express permission from the council, and is most certainly not illegal, now is it?’

  Caroline’s body stiffens slightly but she continues unabated.

  ‘It makes no difference,’ she says, with a toss of her head. ‘You will still need a licence for entertainment and presumably you will want to serve alcohol too. I shall oppose you at every turn.’

  ‘I think you’ll find those are matters for the district council, not the parish council,�
� I counter, glad I’ve done my research. ‘And as far as I’m aware, Caroline, even you don’t have any control over them?’

  Caroline eyes me coldly, knowing she’s beaten.

  ‘What have you got against us anyway?’ I continue in a gentler tone. I honestly didn’t understand why Caroline was being like this about the wedding. ‘This is nothing to do with you, why be so mean about it?’

  But Caroline doesn’t follow my lead; instead she sighs dramatically and rolls her eyes. ‘One,’ she begins, ‘Trecarlan is part of St Felix’s history, and I see no good reason a historic building such as this should be desecrated by using it as nothing more than a party venue. And two,’ she continues before I can respond, ‘two is more personal.’ She gives me an icy stare. ‘The Carmichael family have never got on with the Harringtons, so annoying you, Poppy, is my way of avenging past betrayals.’

  She looks at us both for a moment before nodding smartly, her job done. ‘Good day to you both,’ she says swivelling around as best she can in her Wellington boots and striding off across the ballroom.

  ‘W-what?’ I stutter in disbelief as I watch her leave. ‘What on earth are you talking about – betrayals?’

  ‘Ask your friend Stan!’ she calls, not looking back. ‘A little bird tells me you two were quite pally in the past.’ Then before she disappears out of the door she turns to face us one last time. ‘Oh, wait a minute,’ she says, a triumphant glint in her eyes, ‘you don’t even know where he is, do you? Well, goodbye, girls. And good luck!’

  ‘What on earth is she talking about?’ Amber asks, looking at me aghast. ‘Past betrayals? I feel like I’m in one of your English costume dramas and we should be wearing corsets and long dresses… Come to think of it, that might be fun!’

  ‘I have absolutely no idea, Amber,’ I sigh, still staring after Caroline. ‘But I’m not about to let her stop us. I have an idea how we can get the approval we need to hold a wedding reception at Trecarlan – and at the same time hopefully discover just what on earth she’s going on about.’

  ‘How are we going to do that?’

  ‘By finding a very dear friend of mine.’

  Twenty-eight

  Verbascum – Take Courage

  After our encounter with Caroline, I speak to Ash about the possibility of visiting Babs at her cottage, and he arranges for me to visit his granny the next day.

  Ash and I are getting on just fine. He’s lovely to spend time with – always super chilled and relaxed. Sometimes I take Basil to the beach to watch Ash and his mates surf the waves that wash up on to St Felix’s long stretch of sand, and afterwards, if the weather’s good, Ash and I picnic on the beach together, snuggled up on, or under, a blanket with Basil contentedly nibbling on a cheese sandwich at our side.

  Ash tries on more than one occasion to get me to mount a board with him. But I insist my surfing days are over, and I’m happy to watch him ride the waves while I enjoy being out in the fresh air.

  I surfed with Will. I don’t surf any more.

  I hadn’t realised how much I missed the taste, smell and feel of sea air until I returned to St Felix. Living in London and the various other cities I’ve inhabited over the years, I’d got used to the tight, smoggy air. I’d forgotten how clean, fresh and invigorating sea air was, and now I couldn’t get enough of it.

  ‘I’m just going to see Babs!’ I call to Amber as Basil and I get ready to leave the shop. ‘Are you sure you’ll be OK on your own?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll be fine. Good luck, Poppy,’ she replies, reappearing from the back room where she’s currently creating a bouquet for a young man to give to his girlfriend when he proposes. Word of Amber’s magical bouquets has begun to spread, and we’ve been getting requests from all over Cornwall from people wanting our help. ‘I really hope Babs can tell you something about this Stan,’ Amber says. ‘And not just for the sake of the wedding. It sounds to me like you really need to see him again.’

  Before I can answer, the shop door opens and our fifth customer of the day walks in. And it’s only 10 a.m.! We’ll have to take on someone else to help us if this continues; Amber can’t possibly look after the shop and arrange all the flowers, and it’s inevitable there are going to be times when it’s impossible for us both to be there.

  ‘I’ve heard you do special bouquets?’ the woman says to Amber as Basil and I head out the door. ‘My mother has been ill recently, and…’

  Basil and I leave Amber to it – this is most definitely her department.

  We’ve got to the point we can always tell when a customer’s going to ask for one of Amber’s special bouquets. Often they’ll hover outside the shop window for a while, looking shifty, then they’ll come in and pretend to browse for a bit. Once they finally get up the courage to ask if we could make them up a ‘special’ bouquet, I hand them over to Amber, who very discreetly asks what their issue is, then disappears out back to consult her books before creating the perfect bouquet for them, always tied with a white ribbon.

  As Basil and I walk down the street, waving to Ant and Dec as we pass – the bakery also seems exceptionally busy today – I think about Stan.

  Amber’s right, of course. I should have tried to locate Stan as soon as I arrived in St Felix, but what with the shop and then Basil to look after…

  No, I couldn’t kid myself; these were simply excuses. I hadn’t gone in search of Stan because I knew that seeing him again would remind me of past times here in St Felix with Will. Even though I’d managed to talk to Ash about Will, I knew Stan would want to reminisce even more, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that yet.

  But I had to do this. It was important, not only for Katie and Jonathan, but for me too.

  So as we walk towards Babs’s cottage, pausing occasionally so Basil can do his thing, my mind is very definitely on the past.

  ‘Oi! Your dog!’

  Shaking myself from my memories, I see Basil about to cock his leg against the side of a mobility scooter. ‘Gosh, I’m so sorry,’ I tell an elderly lady carrying a string bag full of shopping. ‘Basil!’ I pull him away from the wheels. ‘No!’

  ‘Oh, it’s Basil,’ the lady says, easing herself on to the seat of the scooter. ‘I haven’t got my glasses on, I didn’t recognise you, lad.’ She reaches in her handbag and pulls out a pair of spectacles. ‘There, that’s better,’ she says, putting them on. ‘Now,’ she bends down to stroke him, and Basil, as always, laps up the fuss. ‘I haven’t seen you in ages, boy. How are you?’

  She looks up at me. ‘Poppy?’ she says. ‘Is that you? You were just a young girl the last time I saw you.’

  I look more closely at her.

  ‘Babs!’ I exclaim. ‘I’m just on my way to your cottage.’

  Babs nods. ‘That’s right, young Ash said you were coming over. I was just getting some cakes in.’ She rolls her eyes, ‘Can’t even make me own these days.’

  ‘Oh dear, how are you? Ash said you hadn’t been too well lately.’

  ‘I have to admit, I’ve seen better days,’ she says, gesturing to her buggy. ‘But you have to get on with it, don’t you? I heard you were back in town and looking after Rose’s shop. I’d have popped in, but I haven’t been out much lately; touch of bronchitis hit me real bad, it did. But I’ve escaped today and been allowed out on me own for a while.’

  ‘Well done.’ I haven’t seen Babs for so long I barely recognise her. She’s lost a lot of weight, and has got a lot greyer in the hair department. ‘I heard about Stan,’ I say, wondering if it’s too soon to mention this. ‘How he decided to sell the castle and move away. It’s a shame it had to come to that. He loved that place.’

  ‘Hmmph,’ Bab says. ‘Or so he let everyone believe.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  Babs looks furtively up and down the street, then she beckons for me to lean in so she can lower her voice.

  ‘Stan changed in the years after you stopped coming to Trecarlan, Poppy – and not for the better, either. He was getting on a bit
, and I don’t think he was playing with a full deck a lot of the time.’

  ‘Oh, poor Stan. What happened?’

  ‘Well, I’m not one to gossip, as you know…’ She looks shiftily about her. ‘But Stan got in with a bad crowd. There was a lot of drinking went on up at the castle, and –’ she looks up and down the street, but the weather has done one of its U-turns and there are ominous rainclouds gathering overhead, so anyone who’d been out enjoying the sunshine first thing this morning has already taken shelter. ‘Gambling,’ she whispers, so quietly I can barely hear her.

  ‘Really?’ I can’t imagine Stan running the sort of debauched gambling ring Babs seemed to be implying.

  Babs nods. ‘Regularly held parties up there, he did. He’d let all ’n’ sundry into the castle. He asked me to cater for his parties, but I said no. My job was to look after him, not a load of hoolie-billies with more money than sense. So,’ Babs puts her hand to her chest, ‘he got in outside caterers!’