by Amelia Grace
‘Never better. Help yourself to a cup of tea before you start on your job list.’ Gram stopped and stared at me, for more than a moment of stillness. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’ Her voice had lost its joy and her colour changed from fuscia to pale yellow, like butter that had started to melt in the hot sun.
Anxiety shot through me. Before she had a vertigo attack, she stared. ‘Me too,’ I said, sending up a silent prayer for her.
She moved again, like she had been in a freeze-frame and become unfrozen. ‘I’ll be fighting fit soon, and then you can go back to your flight simulators.’ She smiled at me. Sort of. But not her usual Gram smile that infused the entire store with light that bloomed in your heart until it felt full, with love.
‘I know ... would you like tea as well?’
There was no reply.
‘Gram. Would you like a cup of tea?’
She turned her head. ‘Say it again, dear?’
‘Would you like one of the many morning teas?’
‘Oh no. I haven’t had any tears this morning. It’s a good day.’
I frowned, then smiled at her. What an odd reply ... I put my hand on her shoulder, so she turned and faced me. ‘I’ll get you a cup of tea, Gram.’
‘Lovely, that would be nice.’
I walked over to the florist cafe. ‘Morning, Darcy!’
He gave a slight smile through his red manicured beard. ‘Tea?’
‘Actually, I’m tempted to have coffee. That brew you’re working on smells magnificent!’ Darcy was back to the colour of sky blue today—the colour of peace and stability, trustworthiness.
‘Thanks, Andi. I call this one the heart-starter. It’s a new concoction. I’ll make you one when you’re struggling with energy this afternoon.’ Darcy gave me an amused smile.
‘Hmmm. A test subject! Count me in!’ I gave him a thumbs-up. His barista handiwork and baking were becoming famous in the township of Tarrin. The township of “more”. Flowers for Fleur was not only the place to go to for flowers, but for hot beverages as well. Fortune rained down on Gram when she hired the good-looking, red-haired, hipster-bearded Darcy, on that fateful day. ‘Tea for Gram as well, please.’
I sat at a table and my tea soon arrived. I looked out the window while I savoured the calming brew. It was early morning and the main street was starting to come to life with shopkeepers opening stores.
When I finished my cup of tea, I collected my apron and commenced with the mundane daily jobs while Gram created bouquets of magnificence. The only consolation was that the time went quickly.
As I watered the plants on the sales desk, I saw the reply note I had written to the person who wanted to buy Gram’s bicycle. I picked it up and went outside and placed it into the peonies in the basket on the bicycle, with hope that the note writer would see it.
I waved to the baker up the road before I returned to the store. I glanced over at Gram at the workbench, smiling as she worked on orders while Grampapa’s voice filled every nook and cranny. I looked at my pre-opening job list. I had gift-ware to unpack and price tags to add before they went on display, as well as having to sort through the chocolates and fudges Gram had ordered from Lily’s Lollies, the candy store in Tarrin, as was the town policy.
I opened the double French doors at 8.30am to a multitude of “good mornings” and “hellos”, and placed silver buckets of flowers outside for sale. People streamed through the doors and headed to Darcy to feed their morning tea and coffee addiction, while others picked bouquets of flowers ready to purchase. I stepped behind the sales desk and pulled the top of my dress higher over my chest scar. Flowers for Fleur was open for business ...
‘Flowers, tea, coffee ... or books?’ The words rolled off my tongue for the seventeenth time this morning. I wished I could just say, “Can I help you?”, or “Hi!”, but Gram insisted I say all five words, each and every time, just like she had from the very first day she opened the store fifty years ago. “It’s tradition,” she had said.
‘Flowers, please.’ The middle-aged woman smiled at me. She looked like she was on top of the world. She was the colour of bright yellow—happy and triumphant.
‘I get the feeling you’re celebrating,’ I said.
‘Yes. My granddaughter was born at 2.13am.’ She gave a little squeal. ‘She’s so perfect ... so adorable.’
My heart melted. There was nothing more precious than the gift of a baby. ‘Congratulations! Gram makes the most amazing floral arrangements for new babies. Go over and tell her your good news, then head to Darcy for a celebratory coffee or tea, on the house!’
‘Thanks, Andi.’
‘You’re welcome, and you must visit with your granddaughter to introduce us sometime!’
‘Definitely!’
The moment she walked to Gram I dashed into the cold room to grab more bunches of flowers for outside the flower store. Flowers were in hot demand today. Gram would be ecstatic.
After I placed the blooms into the silver buckets, I stepped back to check their placement, then looked over at Gram’s bicycle. There, in the flowers, was another note. I grabbed it and opened it.
Dear Andi,
You misunderstand me.
I need that bike.
Name the price.
Xander
‘Wha? Does Xander not have manners?’ I strolled inside the store, thinking of an apt reply that would shut him down. I placed the note next to the laptop computer to reply to later when I had more time. He’ll keep.
I opened the “outside flowers” book to record the flowers I had placed in front of the store. When I looked up, the milkman stood in front of me. He was the colour of admiral blue—trust, responsibility, honesty and loyalty. ‘Good morning, Mr Wilson. Just take the milk and cream right over to Darcy.’
‘I know. But first I must apologize.’
I frowned. ‘Why’s that?’
‘The blood ... yesterday.’
My eyes widened. I touched each of my fingers on my right hand with my thumb, one by one—the hand that dripped with blood on that terrible day, three years ago...
A tingle of anxiety shot through me, threatening to grow into a full-blown panic attack. My head started to swim. Distraction. Move on with the conversation. ‘What happened?’ I asked.
‘It was dark, and I turned my head towards the noise down the street. I tripped and dropped a bottle. When I put my hand down to stop my fall, I cut myself. Sorry about the blood.’
I swallowed. Keep talking ... ‘Is your hand okay?’
‘Seven stitches. But I’ll survive.’
‘I hope it heals quickly. I’ll organise a light for the front of the store so you can see better.’ That was my workplace health and safety brain kicking in from working at the defence force base. I jotted it down on my job list, so I wouldn’t forget.
‘Oh. That’s not necessary. I carry a torch, most of the time.’
‘It’s not a problem, Mr Wilson. Consider it done.’ I turned towards Darcy. He gave me a questioning look. ‘Darcy’s eager for your milk delivery. Have a lovely day.’
I looked around the store trying to focus on things other than the conversation I just had with the milkman. There was a lull in customers. I stretched my back before I found some floral paper and a pen. It was time to respond to dear Xander’s request.
Dear Xander,
You misunderstand me.
The bike cannot be exchanged for $$$$.
Andi
That would do. Short. To the point.
I’ll put in the flowers in the bike basket early tomorrow morning.
Chapter Five
GRAM WAS STANDING BY HER BICYCLE at the front of the store with flowers in her hand. Today it was roses. Three of every colour from the cold room. There were fifteen blooms in the bouquet. The perfume swirled through the air, permeating it with a scent of damask with crushed violet leaves and a hint of lemon. I frowned. I was more of a florist than I thought. I looked down at my steel-capped work boots and utte
red a silent apology.
‘Look at you, Gram ... happiness shining out of you!’ I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. She was the colour of bumble bee yellow today, exuding cheerfulness. ‘I love that song Gramps is singing.’ It was muffled by the closed store, yet easily heard.
Gram looked at me and paused. She frowned, then turned her right ear towards the store doors, lowered her head and listened.
A contagious smile spread over her beautiful face. ‘Me too. Una Furtiva Lagrima from the Italian opera L’elisir d’amore, Act 2.’
My smiled disappeared as I watched a tear slip down her cheek.
‘I remember the first time I heard him sing it ... I sneaked into a rehearsal like a thief in the night and stood behind the side curtains. I closed my eyes and soaked in every note, every word, every nuance. His voice transcended time and place. When he finished, the cast and crew were spellbound, and took a while to snap out of it. A slow clap started, but you could see they were still affected—an attack on the emotions—in the most beautiful way. I still can’t believe our life paths collided. God smiled down on us when we first met.’ Gram brushed a tear away and placed the roses into the bicycle basket.
I loved listening to her love stories. They gave me hope and a little bit of light in the darkness of the violent male world I had encountered on that terrible day of the scars.
I opened the door of the store and Grampapa’s loud singing voice penetrated me. I paused in my step, so thankful Gram and Gramps were my grandparents. I looked over at Darcy. He was polishing cutlery. He gave me a wink.
I skipped over to Grampapa and wrapped my arms around him, inhaling his comforting scent of wood and leather, reminding me of horse riding lessons when I was young. He was the colour of earth brown—a simple life, good friends and happiness.
He stopped singing. ‘Yolande, the morning is beautiful, eh?’
‘More so with you belting out a tune and Gram smiling!’
‘I know. We’ve decided that she’ll have no more vertigo attacks. And that is that!’ Gramps smiled at me. His words were convincing, but his eyes betrayed him.
A sadness vibrated through me. I needed to change the subject. ‘It looks like a storm is brewing this morning, which is odd, this early in spring.’
‘Yes, but not unheard of. I guess you’re shielded from the weather conditions while you work in those gigantic industrial structures.’
‘Classified information, sorry. Please keep singing while I get on with my job list.’ I stood on my tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek.
He smiled at me. ‘Thanks for being here for Grams.’
‘How could I not, after she got me through ... you know ...’ I still couldn’t speak about it, about the time when my scars came into being. No one knew of the exact details of the entire incident of what had happened on that terrible day. Except the police and the judge. I closed my eyes for a second and saw Mia’s hand gripping mine. Covered in blood. My blood ...
I cleared my throat and headed to gather my apron, then went to the sales desk. I glanced at the note from Xander yesterday, and picked it up.
Dear Andi,
You misunderstand me.
I need that bike.
Name the price.
Xander
I folded it and put it away, then reread the reply note I had written.
Dear Xander,
You misunderstand me.
The bike cannot be exchanged for $$$.
Andi
Had I been too harsh?
No. I folded the note in half and walked towards the front doors. Gram passed me on the way. She didn’t appear to see me. She kept her head ultra-still and her eyes focussed in front of her. Odd.
Outside, I tucked the note into the roses, ensuring enough was sticking out so Xander would see it. I wondered what time he passed by Flowers for Fleur, and whether it was a regular occurrence. I shrugged my shoulders. For a guy like him, coming by Gram’s store would purely be to acquire the bike. Otherwise he wouldn’t give the flower store the time of day.
I walked back into the store. It was quiet, for now. Gramps was over at the workbench of flower imagination talking to Gram. He gathered a box full of bouquets and headed out the back door, no doubt to deliver them.
Darcy walked by with a cup of tea for Gram. The aroma of a citrusy blend of tea caught my attention. Then I watched as she waved it away. I frowned. Gram never refused a cup of tea at this time of the morning. In fact, she never waved away anything gifted to her ... ever.
I looked at her with more intent. Some of the incandescent inner light that shone from her face had faded. She was no longer a pink person of warmth and affection, or a bumble bee yellow of cheerfulness. She was a shade of orange like a light amber honey. Fear and anxiety. I had to stay attuned to her.
After scrubbing the fifteenth flower container, I wandered over to the double French doors and opened them for the beginning of the business day. It was 8.30am.
I stepped out onto store frontage and walked closer to the road and looked up at the heavy clouds. I could smell the sweet, pungent zing of a storm. A spot of rain fell onto the centre of my forehead. I inhaled sharply at the memory of a red drop of blood that fell onto Mia’s forehead, then stiffened when I felt a sharp electrifying shock of anxiety. I let out my breath through pursed lips to calm the feeling, and concentrated on being present in the moment—not looking back at the past, nor into the future— but to the here and now. I listened to the sounds around me, and at that moment, the rain began to fall.
There was a flash of bright lightning, followed by the vibrating boom of thunder and a heavy downpour. The street became mayhem while people ran about seeking shelter, including under the awning of Flowers for Fleur, where the smell of fresh coffee wafted out and lured people inside.
I looked to my right at the sound of pounding feet and splashing puddles. A dark-haired man in his twenties was taking a direct route towards me for shelter from the deluge. He stopped beside me, puffing, and ran his hand through his drenched dark hair. Three years ago, I would have melted at his sight and gone all gooey. But not now, not after that terrible day of the scars ...
I looked back at the storm clouds. ‘The coffee smells good. We might be here for a while,’ I said. I had learnt the power of suggestion was a valuable tool with selling. Invite them into the store, and they were more likely to purchase something.
‘If one had time,’ he said. He lowered his head for a moment, his eyes on the ground, then smirked. He looked back up, pulled his backpack over his head and ran into the rain.
Gram was at the sales desk tending to customers when I returned inside. To the right, Darcy was flat out with a very long line of eager coffee and tea drinkers. I headed over to help Darcy. This was no time for a one-man barista show.
He uttered a thousand thanks as I took over taking the orders. After thirty minutes, I had a moment to look at Gram. She seemed flustered, and anxious, rubbing her hands together. I had never seen her act that way before. She was always cool, calm and collected.
I put my hand on Darcy’s arm. ‘Gram needs my help. Sorry to abandon you.’
Darcy looked up at Gram while he was making a latte. He pressed his lips into a hard line. ‘Absolutely, and please don’t apologise.’
‘Thanks, Darcy! You’re one in seven billion.’
‘No problem.’
I pulled out my cell phone while I walked towards Gram. ‘Hi, Charlotte. I need you to come in to work as soon as possible. Gram’s not well.’
I stopped on Gram’s left side. ‘I’ll take over now, Gram. Darcy has everything under control in the café.’
Gram didn’t move. She didn’t even look my way. I walked around to her right side. ‘I’ll take over now, Gram. Darcy has everything under control in the café.’
Gram turned her body towards me like her head was fused in place. It was an odd, robotic type of movement. ‘That would be wonderful, Landi. I think I will sit down in the office for a bi
t.’ Her voice was flat, not the cheerful, uplifting voice we were used to.
I watched her walk away. There was no bounce in her step. It was almost a smooth shuffle, and looked like an attempt to walk without making any body movement of any kind. My skin burned. When I heard the office door click, I turned to the next customer.
‘I was wondering if you sold umbrellas?’ she asked.
What? This is a flower shop with a café! I took a calming breath. ‘What a brilliant idea! No umbrellas, but I could probably find you a large sheet of plastic to use, like a poncho?’
‘I’ll take it, please. I have an important meeting.’
‘Sure,’ I said, and went to the storeroom. I returned with ten plastic sheets. I gave one to the woman and had some spare to hand out to others requesting umbrellas, then wrote down “order floral print umbrellas” on the to-do list.
I looked up when Charlotte rushed in and grabbed her apron.
‘That was quick!’ I said. She was the colour of yellow, like sunflowers, smiling at the sun as it threw beams of unending joy, life, happiness and vitality.
‘I was at Henry’s Hooter, the bakery. I’ll take over the sales desk. I don’t have a flair for creating bouquets of flowers like you and your gram.’
‘Thanks. You’re a Godsend! I’m going to check on Gram.’ I gave Charlotte a quick hug.
I walked around the corner to Gram’s office and tapped on the door, twice, before I opened it. I took one step inside and stopped in my tracks. Gram was sitting in her chair, staring at the wall with a look of terror on her face. She neither turned her head towards me, nor moved her eyes to look at me.
‘Get me a bucket, now!’ Gram’s voice was a rough whisper.
I didn’t answer. I walked briskly through the shop on light footsteps in my safety boots. I didn’t want to alarm any customers, so I added a small smile to my face: a fake small smile. I was good at those. I’d had three years practise at it.