The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop

by Tracy Corbett

  It was only when Evie turned around that she realised she had an audience. A group of people were watching her work. Unsure as to whether she felt flattered or intimidated, she focused on Valerie, who was happy with the attention, shameful exhibitionist that she was.

  Ignoring a raging thirst, a rumbling tummy and sore fingers from misplaced pins, Evie doggedly continued constructing the bridal headdress, stopping only when the flash of a camera startled her.

  ‘I didn’t mean to distract you.’ A woman carrying a large camera held up her hand in apology. She leant across the rope barrier, offering her hand. ‘Ann Hale, Elite Wedding magazine.’

  Evie shook her hand.

  ‘Do you have a business card?’ When Evie looked confused, she added, ‘In case we publish any photos.’

  Evie hadn’t thought to bring any cards. How stupid. She patted her pockets, hoping to find a random card tucked away.

  The photographer opened a notepad. ‘Not to worry. Can I take a name?’

  ‘Evie Armstrong, The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop, Heatherton.’

  ‘Thanks. Mind if I take a few more shots?’ Without waiting for a reply, she began snapping.

  The tannoy crackled into life. ‘A message for all competitors. You have fifteen minutes to finish your entries. Fifteen minutes. Judging will commence at 1 p.m.’

  Evie returned to Valerie. She was nearly done, just the last few orchids to add. She glued the remaining crystals to the rows of pearls hanging from the tiara, her shaking hands making it tricky work.

  ‘Five minutes left,’ the tannoy announced.

  Just enough time to tidy everything away. Evie frantically boxed everything up and binned the rubbish. Using a purple marker, she wrote the name ‘Titania’ on her card and placed it on the display stand. ‘Sorry, love. Valerie just didn’t scream woodland fairy to me.’

  ‘Are you talking to a dummy?’ The woman in the neighbouring booth snorted.

  Evie turned and held the woman’s gaze. ‘It would appear so.’

  The woman huffed, gave Evie’s design the once over and then gestured to her own fantastic design, an intricately woven array of Ice Cream roses. With talent like that she could afford to be smug.

  Evie could do no more. She waited for the judges to arrive. When they did she had no way of telling what they thought. Julian and Fi-fi inspected her creation, their mumbled dialogue undecipherable amongst the noisy chatter of the marquee. After a few minutes they moved on to the woman next door.

  Exhausted, Evie went in search of sustenance and found comfort in a stall selling blueberry muffins and hot chocolate. With her task over she was able to walk around the stands and take a look at the other exhibitors and competition entries. They were all amazing. She’d be doing well to place. She watched a demonstration on basket weaving, enjoyed taking in an elaborate water-feature design and sat outside for a while on the grass, relishing the chance to sit down. She loved her puppy-dog shoes, but boy did they make her feet ache.

  She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but tiredness must have caught up with her. She only woke when her phoned beeped with a text. ‘Where are you, they’re announcing the winners?’ It was Saffy. Blurry-eyed, Evie sat up and stretched, stiff from lying on the ground so long. How long had she been asleep? Bloody hell, it was gone four o’clock.

  Scrambling to her feet, she shoved on her shoes and raced inside the marquee. It was packed, everyone gathering around the main stage. Julian and Fi-fi were standing behind a table laden with medals, certificates and trophies. The voice behind the tannoy was a man of operatic proportions, dressed in a tux, holding a microphone. ‘On to the results of the Apprentice Cup.’ Feedback from the amplifiers made the crowd wince.

  Evie spotted Saffy waving from across the room. She made her way over, apologising for disrupting people’s view of the prize-giving. Saffy was standing with Josh. They’d both changed into normal attire. Well, normal for them. Josh was wearing a black and yellow Thor hoodie and Saffy was wearing what she called her ‘wench’ dress, a black vintage number with crisscross ties.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Saffy removed a blade of grass from Evie’s hair.

  ‘I fell asleep outside. Where’s Marlon?’

  ‘In the hearse.’ Josh smiled, something he was doing a lot more of lately. ‘Don’t worry, I parked under a tree and left the window ajar.’

  ‘You’re so gonna win.’ Saffy nudged her. ‘Yours was the best by far.’

  Evie shushed her. ‘Thanks, but I’m not expecting to win. Some of the other entries were stunning.’

  Saffy shrugged. ‘Yeah, but they were so predictable. Yours was out there.’

  Evie wasn’t sure the judges were looking for ‘out there’.

  Tannoy man cleared his throat. ‘Now for the main event. The Bridal Competition, sponsored by Elite Wedding magazine.’

  Saffy grabbed Evie’s hand. Josh gave her a thumbs up.

  ‘In third place, Jimmy Penno for his design, “Beautiful Bouquet”.’

  The crowd applauded a young guy wearing incredibly tight jeans as he went up to collect his prize.

  ‘In second place, Wendy Coleman for “Blushing Bride”.’

  There was more enthusiastic applause for the woman Evie thought should have won; her design of pink spray carnations cascading down a four-tier wedding cake was exquisite.

  ‘And now, our first place winner …’

  Saffy hopped from one foot to the other, squeezing Evie’s hand. ‘It’s you, it has to be you.’

  ‘Sylvia Hammond for “A Winter Romance”.’ There was a loud cheer from one section of the crowd. ‘Come on up, Sylvia.’

  Saffy had stopped jumping. ‘No way.’

  Sylvia Hammond, aka the smug woman from the booth next to Evie’s, ran up onto the stage. She almost grabbed the trophy from tannoy man, shaking hands with Julian and Fi-fi before taking the microphone and delivering an acceptance speech.

  Saffy was outraged. ‘Are those judges blind?’

  Evie’s name hadn’t even been amongst the list of highly commended. She’d put her heart and soul into her design, but it hadn’t been enough.

  As the clapping petered out, tannoy man retrieved his microphone from Sylvia, whose tearful ‘I’d like to thank my family’ speech had gone on long enough. ‘And now to our final award of day, the Floral Cup. This award is given to any entry across all categories for the most innovative design. This year, this prestigious award goes to …’ He checked his notes. ‘Evie Armstrong, for her bridal design “Titania”.’

  It took a moment for Evie to believe what she was hearing.

  Saffy began jumping and punching the air, and then landed Josh with a kiss, after which they jumped apart like scalded cats. Various people descended on Evie, congratulating her, shaking her hand, expressing their delight.

  In something of a whirl, Evie went onto the stage and was presented with the Floral Cup. Julian waxed lyrical about her design. Fi-fi asked where her inspiration had come from, and tannoy man presented her with a large silver trophy. Only Sylvia Hammond didn’t look happy. Oh, well, you couldn’t win them all.

  The next twenty minutes went by in a blur. Evie was photographed, questioned, interviewed for the local paper and even offered a job with Secret Gardens, a national chain of florists. It was all too much to take in. Throughout it all, Saffy and Josh looked on like proud parents, tweeting news of Evie’s success and posting photos onto the The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop Facebook page.

  In the end she needed a breather, and went outside to find Marlon. He greeted her in true dog fashion, a mixture of pleasure at seeing her and a telling-off for having left him for so long.

  She wrapped her arms around him. ‘Guess what, Marlon. I won a trophy.’

  Marlon barked, raising his paw as if inviting her to partake in a high five.

  She obliged. ‘I know. Cool, right?’

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Sunday, 15 June

  Scott had spent the morning debating whethe
r or not to phone Evie or just turn up on her doorstep. Mulling over this dilemma had given him something to focus on that wouldn’t result in him crying like a baby. Clearing out the flat had been hard, but it had also been therapeutic. A local woman, whose dad had severe arthritis had come to collect Billie’s wheelchair and bath hoist with her husband. Money was an issue for them, so being gifted the items was a blessing.

  The flat looked bigger without the equipment in it. Not that he’d be there much longer. The flat was designed for people with care and mobility needs, not active single men with functioning limbs. The lease gave them a three-month grace period, but they couldn’t stay long term. Ben didn’t know this – he didn’t need to. With less than two weeks until the wedding Scott didn’t want his nephew stressing about where they would live afterwards. And besides, Scott had already booked their flights to Australia as a wedding gift. Ben and Amy had always planned to travel before heading off to university next year. This way they got to go to Oz earlier than planned and Scott didn’t have to worry about finding them all somewhere to live.

  Scott switched off the vacuum cleaner. He wasn’t relishing the last job, bagging up his mum’s clothes for the charity shop. But, like ripping off a plaster, he needed to get on with it.

  He opened the wardrobe doors, knowing the scent of his mother would tip him over the edge. True enough, a wave of grief and longing enveloped him. The sweet, cloying aroma of Oil of Olay and Elnett radiated off her clothes. He unhooked the hangers.

  She hadn’t possessed much in the end. It didn’t take long to fold them into a single holdall. He still ached for his mum, but the pain was easing, coming in short bursts rather than disabling him for whole days. The turning point had been her letter, read out by the solicitor at the will reading. Since hearing her words spoken aloud he’d begun to feel more positive about his future, ready to make some tough decisions. Like ending things with Nicole.

  He locked the front door behind him and carried the bag out to the van.

  It was a Sunday afternoon, so Evie wouldn’t be working. He’d drop by on the off chance she was home. It had taken him a while to realise what he felt. But now he knew, he was ready to act on it.

  He loaded up the van and headed off in the direction of Heatherton.

  Nicole’s proposal had seemed too good to be true. Everything he’d mourned for and desired these last two years was being offered to him on a plate. And yet instead of feeling elated, he’d felt uncertainty. Having Nic around had been a comfort; she’d been what he’d needed to get through the pain of losing his mum. But once the dust settled and she’d begun talking about moving back to London, he’d found himself doubting their suitability. Nicole had been a great girlfriend – fun, easy to live with. But she was intrinsically selfish. She wanted a perfect life with no complications and an equally perfect mate who could provide her with a consumerist lifestyle not spoilt by the ‘baggage’ of poorly relatives.

  Scott turned into Folkestone Road. Evie’s van was parked outside. Good. Hopefully she was home.

  After much agonising, Scott had come to the conclusion that his feelings for Nicole had changed. His attraction had been a craving for intimacy, not because he still loved her. It had been a temporary renewal of affection, which had faded with the realisation he didn’t like her very much any more. It sounded cruel, but she hadn’t understood the value of family. How could you have a lasting relationship with someone you didn’t trust not to leave the next time things turned to shit? And there would be a next time, because that was how life worked. Something was always waiting around the bend to bite you on the arse. Scott wanted someone more constant, more compassionate, less self-absorbed. He wanted Evie.

  With butterflies in his stomach, he knocked on her door. Instant barking. Marlon charged at the door, trying to launch himself through the glass.

  It took a while, but finally Evie approached, calling Marlon away. Scott’s butterflies increased. When she opened the door, lust smacked him full in the face. She was wearing Dalmatian-patterned shorts and a camisole, her feet bare. Her hair was loose and messy and she was make-up free. The urge to pick her up and carry her into the bedroom almost had him falling over the threshold.

  She looked surprised to see him, but not unhappy. ‘Er … Hi, Scott.’

  He held up a bag. ‘I come bearing gifts.’

  She opened the door fully. ‘Right, well, come in. It’s good to see you.’

  He was about to say ‘you too’ but Marlon jumped up, his tail thumping against the wall as he welcomed Scott into his home. ‘Hey there, boy.’ He knelt down, allowing Marlon to lick his face, though a voice in his head warned that if he wanted any action with Evie it might be best to stop smooching her dog. He stood up and wiped his face with his sleeve.

  ‘Come through.’ Evie went into the sitting room. She clicked her fingers and both Scott and Marlon followed like the obedient creatures they were.

  Scott handed her the bag. ‘I’ve been clearing out Mum’s things. I found this. I thought you might like it.’

  She pulled out the crystal ornament of a rose. ‘Are you sure you want to part with it?’

  He nodded. ‘I have plenty of reminders.’

  Evie studied the ornament. ‘What about your sister? Or Nicole? Wouldn’t they like it?’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Lisa didn’t want anything of their mum’s and he couldn’t imagine Nicole wanting a keepsake. Not after he’d broken things off with her. She hadn’t exactly taken the news well. It was only after he’d dropped her back in London and left her crying and calling him names that he realised it’d never occurred to Nicole that he wouldn’t want her back. She’d assumed he’d be so relieved and grateful there wouldn’t be any issue. But sometimes two people no longer fitted together as they once did. Nic hadn’t understood that.

  Evie took the ornament over to the fireplace and put it on the ledge. ‘Thank you. I love it.’

  For a second he thought she’d said ‘I love you’ but of course that would be ridiculous. If anything she was being a little cool with him. Understandable, he supposed. He’d messed her around. But he was here to put things right.

  Scott noticed a large silver trophy next to the ornament. ‘That’s new.’

  Evie smiled. ‘I won a flower competition yesterday.’

  Scott went over. ‘Really?’ He picked up the trophy and read the inscription. Most innovative design. He looked at her. She seemed conflicted between not wanting to show off and wanting to celebrate her success. ‘That’s brilliant, Evie.’ She blushed. ‘Congratulations. I’m really proud of you.’ And then he felt stupid. ‘Sorry, don’t know why I said that. I’m sure you don’t need my approval.’

  She took the trophy from him and placed it back on the mantle. ‘It’s nice to have it, just the same. Thank you.’

  He noticed a bed sheet scrunched up on the couch. ‘Did I wake you?’

  She shrugged. ‘I was dozing more than sleeping. Trying to catch up. It’s been a long week. Stressful.’

  He wanted to touch her. She looked in need of a cuddle. But maybe he was projecting. Perhaps he was the one in need of a cuddle. ‘Anything I can help with?’

  She shook her head and went over to the couch. ‘Not really, but thanks for asking. I’m having problems with the shop.’

  Scott followed her over to the couch, but she didn’t make room for him to sit next to her. He sat down in the armchair, trying not to feel disappointed. ‘The heating isn’t playing up again, is it?’ Part of him hoped it was so he’d have an excuse to visit.

  Marlon jumped onto her lap. ‘Nothing like that.’ She stroked his ears. ‘The new boiler’s been great, thanks.’

  ‘That’s good.’ It looked cosy underneath the sheet. He wanted to curl up with her and snuggle … amongst other things.

  ‘The time is almost up for me to put in an offer if I want to buy the flower shop. I’ve tried to get a loan, but it’s not happening. Looks like I’ve reached the end of the road.’ She buried her fa
ce in Marlon’s fur.

  Scott chastised himself. She was worried about losing her business and he was having inappropriate thoughts about removing her shorts. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘Me too. I’m thinking about moving away.’

  Scott’s heart contracted, a painful squeeze that caught his breath. He hadn’t seen that coming. ‘Is that necessary?’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t want to move, but jobs are hard to find. Good ones, anyhow. I’ve been offered a manager’s position with Secret Gardens. They have an outlet in Edinburgh near where my sister lives, so the area holds some appeal.’

  ‘Right.’ Shit! He’d come here in the hope of them getting together and she was talking about moving to bloody Scotland. Not good. Not good at all.

  She looked so utterly miserable; all Scott wanted to do was wrap her in his arms. But Marlon was doing enough comforting for the both of them. Damned dog. Should he say something? If he told her how he felt she might stay. But would that put too much pressure on her? And him, for that matter. He liked her. He was attracted to her. But did that justify asking her to stay just so he had time to work out whether she was ‘the one’. Probably not.

  She continued petting Marlon, her eyes fixed on the dog. ‘Did you come over just to give me the rose, or was there something else?’

  He hesitated. He had no way of reading her expression. Hopeful? Unsure? Awkward? Should he lay it on the line, tell her how he felt? ‘I was hoping you could help me with my best man’s speech …’ Or bottle out and change the topic. Nice one, Scott. What a wimp.

  She took a moment to answer. ‘I’m not sure I’m the right person to ask. I’ve never written a speech.’

  What had he been thinking? ‘Sure. Right. It was just …’

  She tilted her head to one side. Her hair slid away from her shoulder, exposing her neck. ‘Just what?’

  The thought of kissing her neck distracted him. ‘It’s no big deal.’

  She looked up. ‘It obviously is. Please tell me.’

  Sod it. What did it matter if she knew his shameful secret? She was moving bloody countries. ‘I struggle with paperwork and stuff, that’s all.’ He could feel his face heating up. Telling a woman you were stupid was not the way to impress her.