When he returned to the florist’s, Evie was handing Josh a wreath in the shape of an A. As Scott approached the counter, her expression switched from surprised to wary, as though fearing he might ask her out again. Don’t worry, he wanted to tell her, I’m not that stupid.
He waited until Josh had left, nodding a farewell at the kid, thinking how different he was to Ben. It wasn’t just their differing appearances. Josh had an old soul and Ben was very much of the modern age. He couldn’t imagine them ever being mates. But then, he hadn’t imagined Ben getting married, so once again it proved how clueless he was when it came to teenagers. He dug out his wallet. ‘I’d like to buy some flowers.’
Evie forced a smile. ‘Of course. What would you like?’
He looked around the shop, not sure what would be appropriate. To his shame he didn’t even know what his mum liked. ‘What can you recommend?’
Her expression indicated she suspected him of game playing. ‘It would help if you could narrow it down. Tulips? Orchids? Roses?’
‘Tulips.’ He had a vague recollection of Billie trying to grow tulips in their old place. Even to his own ears his ignorance of all things botanical was shameful.
She pointed to a display of bright red blooms. ‘Tulipa linifolia are a particularly impressive variety.’
The flowers were beautiful, perfect for a romantic date. Not exactly the type you bought for your mum.
‘A lot of men choose these when buying for a love interest.’ There was an edge to Evie’s voice.
‘Oh, they’re not …’ And then he stopped. He’d been about to correct her assumption, but then figured maybe letting her believe they were for a woman was better for everyone. Especially as he’d made a tit of himself by asking her out. Having fibbed before about how he was ‘free as a bird’ with ‘no ties’ and other such crap, coming clean now and admitting he wasn’t a commitment-phobe, would only make him look even more of a dick than he already did.
She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
He pointed to some white flowers. ‘How about those?’
‘Orchids. An excellent choice. They convey love, beauty and strength.’
The right words to describe Billie.
Evie folded her arms. ‘They also send a message of exotic love.’
Not ideal, but he doubted his mother would know that. ‘How much?’
She nodded at the photos on the wall. ‘Basket or tied bouquet?’
He pointed to a wicker basket with a handle and looping grass mixed in with the flowers. He hoped something potted might last a bit longer. ‘That one, please.’
‘Forty pounds.’
How much? He opened his wallet, dismayed to discover he was short. Talk about embarrassing. He was just about to dust off one of his credit cards when her sigh stopped him in his tracks.
‘Actually, you know what, there’s no charge.’
He studied her face, wondering if he’d misheard. The colour in her cheeks did nothing to dampen his attraction. ‘Are you sure?’
She nodded, her rueful smile dragging his attention down to her lips, which wasn’t a good development. He didn’t need any encouragement.
‘Thank you. That’s extremely kind of you.’ He forced his focus away from her lips.
She managed a brief smile. ‘I wasn’t very nice to you earlier. I was upset about having to replace the boiler. My finances are rather stretched at the moment.’ She looked uncomfortable saying this. ‘But that’s not your issue and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Especially when you were trying so hard to offer me a good deal. Sorry.’ She gave a self-deprecating shrug, which had more of an effect on him than her killer smile had done.
Seemingly embarrassed, she disappeared out back, leaving him more confused than ever.
So money was tight? He hadn’t realised that. They had one thing in common then. That and a love of dogs.
Ten minutes later she returned with the basket of flowers and an oily cloth, handing him both. ‘Yours, I believe.’ Her protective barrier was back in place. It was business as usual.
Without another word she walked off, leaving him wondering how this call-out had resulted in such contrasting highs and lows, and him leaving with forty quid’s worth of free flowers.
Life really was confusing.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Monday, 14 April
Laura loved her job. Really, she did. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself every time Bridezilla requested another style of dress to try on. Truly Scrumptious, normally so serene and sophisticated, currently looked like a marital warzone. An explosion of chiffon, shoes, tiaras and veils covered the floor space, interspersed with discarded hairpieces, patent stilettoes and Lycra mini-dresses.
For the past two hours Laura had been tending to the bride, two sisters, three cousins, four friends and one mother. All of whom wanted to rival the bride for bling factor and were demanding Laura’s attention. Amongst screeching laughter, bickering, an off-key rendition of ‘Love Shack’ and a few tantrums, Laura had listened patiently to the details of Carly’s impending wedding, complete with horse-drawn carriage, grey doves and a reception at Farnham Castle. Laura wouldn’t have minded so much, but the wedding wasn’t for another two years.
Since arriving, the group had disagreed on everything. From colour, style, length and fabric to who was actually the maid of honour and whether Bryony was a ‘fatter skank’ than Chantal. Fearful of a fight breaking out, Laura had suggested a break, hoping a few glasses of Prosecco and a platter of sandwiches might quell their desire to rip her dresses to shreds. Ignoring the cousins’ repeated requests for a McDonald’s, Laura placed an arrangement of fruit on the side table, taking the opportunity to tidy away some of the more expensive gowns.
When the doorbell tinkled, Laura’s heart sank. She didn’t have the space or energy to deal with another demanding bride, but it turned out to be her friend Evie, backing through the doorway carrying a huge bouquet of flowers.
Ignoring a flash of the bride’s knickers as Carly modelled a pale blue garter for her raucous entourage, Laura stepped over a pile of shoes and greeted Evie by the doorway. ‘Are they for me?’
Evie nodded. ‘Where do you want them?’
Laura looked around, trying not to flinch when a dollop of tuna fell from Chantal’s sandwich onto the arm of her white chaise. ‘In the back would be safest. It’s a little busy in here today.’
‘So I see.’ Evie followed Laura through the shop, navigating the booby-trapped assault course with real proficiency.
‘Mind the hoop.’ Laura’s warning came a second before Evie nearly trod on the boned undergarment.
Sidestepping, her friend carried the flowers through to the kitchen. Having placed them on the worktop, she turned, ready to leave. ‘Enjoy your flowers. See you later!’
Laura chased after her. ‘Hey, where are you going?’
Evie continued walking. ‘You’re busy. So am I. Other deliveries to make. Chat later.’
‘Oh no you don’t.’ Laura dragged Evie back into the kitchen. ‘You can spare a minute. I need a sanity check. I’m dealing with a mother in there whose haggling skills could win her The Apprentice.’
Evie laughed. ‘Bit of a handful, eh?’
Laura rolled her eyes. ‘You have no idea. Now stay, or I’ll send them to The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop for their flowers.’
Evie gave up resisting. ‘Please do, I need the custom.’
Music suddenly blared out from the showroom. Someone had found the stereo. ‘Not this custom, you don’t. Unlike bridal dresses, flowers can’t be dry-cleaned.’ Laura unhooked the card from the roses.
‘That’s true.’
Evie kept gazing at the door, as if planning her escape. What’s her problem? wondered Laura.
‘Anyway, must be off.’
‘Wait, I need to know who the flowers are from. I’m guessing they’re not from Martin.’ Laura read the card. ‘From an admirer.’ Definitely not her husband. These
days he barely tolerated her. Any attempt at romance or seduction had been replaced with sarcasm and complaints. They’d hardly spoken all week. To add insult to injury, he’d set himself up in the spare bedroom, claiming he didn’t want to disturb her when he came in late from work. More likely he was still sulking she’d vetoed his plans to replace their bed. And to think he’d accused her of being childish.
Laura smelt the beautiful orange flowers. ‘Who are they from?’ She read the card again, not recognising the handwriting.
‘No idea.’ There was something evasive about her friend’s behaviour today.
Laura looked up. ‘Is that why you’re in such a rush to leave? You don’t want to tell me who sent the flowers?’
Evie shuffled awkwardly, not making eye contact. Her friend would make a terrible poker player. ‘So how are things with Martin?’
‘Bad.’ Laura turned the card over. ‘Who sent me the flowers?’
Evie ignored her. ‘You were right about Marlon, he’s definitely a handful. I’m booked in for dog training classes.’
Laura pinned Evie with a stare. ‘Stop changing the subject. Who are the flowers from?’
Evie shrugged. ‘I told you, I’ve no idea.’
‘Bullshit. Come on, tell me.’
Evie rubbed her hands together. ‘It’s not my place to say. If the purchaser wanted their identity known they’d have signed the card.’
Laura waved away the excuse. ‘Yeah, but they haven’t and you’re my friend, so just tell me?’
Evie shook her head. ‘No can do. Sorry.’
Laura sighed, frustrated by her friend’s lack of sisterhood. ‘Killjoy.’
Evie smiled. ‘I view it as being professional.’
Laura pretended to pout, but laughed when Evie poked her tongue out. ‘Okay, you win. You have to be discreet.’ Laura pulled out a vase from the cupboard. ‘Have you signed up for that flower competition yet?’
Evie shook her head. ‘Nope, not yet. I haven’t had time.’
‘Make time, Mrs I’m-So-Professional. Stop making excuses.’ Ignoring her friend’s disgruntled expression, Laura filled the vase with water. ‘And where’s this precious dog of yours? I thought you two were joined at the hip.’
‘He’s outside, which is why I need to leave before he starts eating your doorknob.’ Evie backed out of the room. ‘Enjoy your flowers.’
‘I’d enjoy them more if you told me who they’re from!’ Laura called after her.
No reply.
Leaving the flowers in the kitchen, Laura returned to the showroom. Through the window, she watched Marlon jump up at Evie, his delight disproportionate to the length of time they’d been apart. Stupid animal. But then she was struck by a sense of envy. It must be nice to be missed – even if it was by a moth-eaten dog. There was a time when Laura had been slobbered all over by Martin. Now the only slobbering her husband did was dribbling in his sleep. Oh, how things had waned.
Laura looked down at the card in her hand. ‘From an admirer.’ Who could it be? Maybe it was from the attractive older man who’d flirted with her last Saturday? The one with the icy wife and ungrateful daughter. She let her mind wander back to David Robinson’s chiselled features and wicked grin, recalling the tingle of excitement she’d felt when he whispered suggestive enticements in her ear. Oh yes, she could handle getting flowers from him. And it wasn’t like anyone was going to get hurt, was it? It was just a bit of harmless flirtation.
Laura turned back to her customers, thinking how nice it was to be wooed.
She was snapped out of her daydream by the sight of Bridezilla balancing on stepladders reaching for a tiara.
Laura raced over and steadied the base of the ladder. ‘Wait, I’ll get it.’
Jesus. The last thing she needed was a lawsuit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Friday, 25 April
Evie hadn’t thought through the logistics of wearing newly acquired banana shoes whilst driving a Ford Transit van. The curvy, peeled-skin heels kept catching on the pedals, making braking slightly precarious. In the end, sense prevailed and she pulled over, removing the offending items before she caused an accident. Marlon looked relieved. Over the past week she’d started taking him with her on deliveries. Evie wasn’t the most confident of drivers at the best of times, and attempting to drive whilst wearing slip-on shoes hadn’t endeared her to her dog. Despite removing the shoes, Marlon was now ignoring her, his face turned away in disgust.
By the time she arrived at Peacock Court, Marlon was clinging onto the seat, his paws gripping the fabric. ‘You can stop worrying. We’re here,’ she said by way of reassurance, climbing out of the van. She was sure she heard him sigh. Could dogs sigh? Hers did, apparently.
Cordelia Harrison-Walker was her last visit of the day. As Evie had been preparing her order, she’d decided that instead of binning the beautiful pink tulips left over from another delivery, she’d stop off at Cordelia’s neighbour in the hope Billie might like them. She’d done the same thing last month when she’d had a surplus of gerberas. Billie and Oshma had been delighted and invited her to stay for tea, during which time Oshma had told Evie about Billie’s stroke two years earlier. If Evie had felt uncomfortable at being encouraged to call Billie by her first name, or hearing about such intimate medical details, it was overridden by the pleasure she’d felt on seeing her flowers enjoyed.
Hence why she was visiting again today. Plus, it meant she could introduce Billie to Marlon. Dogs were renowned for improving physical and emotional wellbeing of stroke victims – according to her sister, anyway. Since acquiring Marlon, she’d spoken more with Holly than she had in the previous two years put together. Who knew it would take a dog to bridge the gap between estranged sisters. But then, her sister had always preferred animals to people, spending her childhood rescuing spiders, mice, even nursing an injured pigeon back to health. Holly’s interest in animals had only intensified after their parents’ divorce. Whereas Evie had turned to running to vent her frustrations, Holly had buried herself in study, focusing on a career as a vet, seemingly more trusting of animals than she was of human behaviour. Who could blame her? Still, it was nice to be bonding now.
‘And I have you to thank for that,’ she told Marlon, sliding her shoes back on. Balancing the trays in her arms, she kicked the van door shut. Her shoe promptly fell off. With her arms occupied, she couldn’t bend down or see where it had landed. ‘Marlon, fetch!’
He glanced up, his torn ear raised, his expression seeming to say, ‘You talkin’ to me?’
Evie tried to look stern. ‘Who else would I be talking to? You’re happy to run off with my shoe when I don’t want you to, but when I actually need you to fetch something, you act as if it’s beneath you.’
Marlon shrugged. Could dogs shrug?
Evie was forced to place the flowers on the floor. ‘You know, you’re not what I expected.’
His returning look told her she wasn’t what he’d expected either.
It took a while for someone to answer Billie’s door. Eventually her nurse appeared, wearing the same pristine uniform and kilowatt smile as before. ‘It’s the flower lady.’ Her jolly voice resonated down the hallway, her smile only wavering when she spotted Marlon.
‘Sorry to intrude. I wondered if Billie would like some tulips. They’re going spare.’
‘Come in, come in.’ She beckoned Evie through the doorway.
Evie was about to ask if she wanted Marlon left outside, but the damned dog slipped past and made his way uninvited into the flat. Talk about embarrassing. ‘I’m so sorry. Marlon, come back here.’ He ignored her.
By the time Evie reached the living room Marlon’s head was resting on Billie’s lap. His tail wagged contentedly as Billie tickled his chin with small awkward movements.
Evie was about to pull him away when she realised Billie was smiling, her gaze focused on Marlon. Holly obviously knew her stuff.
Evie placed the trays on the dining table. ‘I hope you don’
t me calling by again, but I didn’t want to see these flowers go to waste. Tulips have a very limited shelf life.’
Oshma appeared from the kitchen carrying a vase. ‘You’re welcome here anytime. Isn’t that right, Billie?’
Billie nodded, her gaze still locked on Marlon.
‘Nothing like flowers to brighten the mood, is there, Billie?’ She pointed to a display of orchids on the sideboard. ‘Two lots of flowers in two weeks. Who’s a lucky woman?’
Evie glanced over, instantly recognising the arrangement of flowers. It took a few moments, but then she recalled arranging them for her plumber. ‘That’s one of my displays,’ she said, intrigued as to how they’d ended up here. ‘They’ve lasted well.’
‘You did these?’ She waved a hand at Billie. ‘You hear that, Billie? This young lady arranged the flowers Scottie gave you.’
Scottie? Why was her plumber buying Billie flowers? ‘Who’s Scottie?’ The question was out before she could stop herself. As a florist she was supposed to be the soul of discretion. It was none of her business why someone sent flowers, a point she’d been quick to tell Laura when she’d quizzed her on who’d sent her the roses.
‘Billie’s son.’ Oshma retrieved a framed photo from the sideboard. She handed it to Evie. ‘Lovely boy.’
Her son? Evie was struck by several emotions. Mostly how happy and young Scott looked in the photo. He was standing on a bridge somewhere exotic, his dark hair ruffled by the breeze. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, trouble free, living life to the full. Unlike his poor mother, who was wheelchair-bound and virtually paralysed.
She handed the photo back, wondering why he hadn’t mentioned the flowers were for his mother. She’d assumed he was getting them for a love interest, punishing Evie for turning him down, showing her what she was missing out on. Why didn’t he just say they were for his mum instead of pretending otherwise?
The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop Page 14