‘Yeah,’ I heard him mutter, as he made his way back towards me. ‘Party could be over for me.’
In my haste, my fingers fumbled but finally I got the door open.
Her dark eyes narrowed. ‘You again. Well, well, well.’
‘Come in,’ I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. I stepped back to let her past.
Pandora stalked in, her jaw set like granite. Her perfume was so strong that it completely overpowered an entire shopful of flowers.
‘I was going to introduce you,’ said Sam lightly. ‘But of course, you two ladies will have met when Fearne delivered your flowers.’
He approached his wife and attempted to kiss her. She side-stepped him, leaning back as if trying to dodge a wasp.
‘Er, no, actually.’ Pandora wet her lips.
I raised an eyebrow, sending her a silent message: and which bouquet is he referring to?
‘I think it was your son who answered the door when I delivered the flowers,’ I told Sam, turning away from Pandora, who’d gone a little pale. ‘He was very polite.’
‘That sounds like Will.’ Sam smiled proudly. Pandora adjusted her sunglasses and pursed her lips.
‘She and I met on the pavement outside,’ she said sourly. ‘She screamed her head off at me and caused a scene.’
‘Really?’ Sam looked at me bemused. ‘Why on earth—?’
‘I didn’t realise you were Sam’s wife then,’ I said, feeling the heat rise to my face. I was annoyed at the way Pandora uttered ‘she’ as if somehow I was in the wrong. ‘And I’m sorry we got off on the wrong footing but I’m afraid it doesn’t alter how I feel. You were at the wheel and not paying attention to where you were going.’
Pandora rolled her eyes. ‘I was scarcely moving. I wouldn’t have hit the bike at all if that mobile phone holder wasn’t so fiddly. I can never get it in properly.’
‘You had an accident?’ Sam looked horrified. ‘Dear God. Was anyone hurt? Were the kids in the car?’
‘No, there was hardly a scratch on the car. And stop fussing, Dad has sorted it all out.’ Pandora tutted irritably and inspected her fingernails. They were painted a nude colour which matched her lipstick. ‘She blew the whole thing out of proportion.’
‘Fearne. My name is Fearne.’ I felt my hackles rise but offered to shake her hand. She gave me a withering look and ignored me.
‘Anyway, all of that is irrelevant,’ she said, folding her arms and glaring at Sam. ‘Now that I’ve discovered your little secret. You and Fearne. It all makes sense now.’
My heart skipped a beat. Had she seen us behind the counter, I wondered, standing closer than we should have been? I glanced at Sam who looked so apologetic and awkward I could have hugged him.
Scamp padded over to her, wagging his tail and jumped up at her legs. She pushed him down and wiped her hands on her jeans. I clicked my fingers to tell him to go back to his bed and he wandered off dejectedly.
Sam inhaled a breath. ‘Yeah, sorry about that, but it was only a little white lie.’
‘Really?’ Her laugh was harsh. ‘Your mum is looking good these days.’
The look she gave me could have stripped paint. The cricket team had gone quiet in the back but now Tom joined us in the front of the shop. ‘Hey Pandora, looking gorgeous as usual.’
‘Thank you.’ She shot him an icy smile.
‘Want a beer, Panda?’ Mikey added, poking his head around the archway.
Pandora bristled. ‘No, thank you. And it’s Pandora, please.’
Mikey pulled a face. ‘Sorry.’
‘Look, love, I only told you I was taking Mum out for dinner because this was meant to be a surprise,’ Sam gestured behind him where the rest of his team mates sat in front of their flower arrangements. They waved awkwardly. ‘We’re doing flowers to give the wives and girlfriends at the match tomorrow. To say thank you for supporting us all season.’
She eyed him warily and a faint flush rose to her cheeks. Probably guilt, I thought, remembering what Sam had said about her lack of help with the cricket teas.
‘I knew you were lying all along.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘I knew when you turned up with those flowers that you couldn’t have arranged them yourself.’
‘I did!’ he protested in disbelief. ‘I promise. Fearne taught me.’
‘It’s true,’ I confirmed. ‘Sam wanted to do something special for you.’
‘Oh. I see,’ Pandora sneered, folding her arms. A collection of gold bangles tinkled on her wrist. ‘A one to one session was it? How … romantic.’
‘No!’ he said crossly. ‘Well, yes, but it wasn’t like that.’
‘It was all perfectly above board,’ I explained, not liking the insinuation. ‘Sam put the bouquet together for you while the shop was open and I was serving other customers.’
Sort of. But Pandora wasn’t listening to me.
‘And then I got a second bunch,’ she said triumphantly, tilting her chin. ‘Guilt, I realised. It had to be. You’ve gone from giving me crappy petrol-station flowers to two expensive bouquets. So I came up here to see what was so interesting at the florist’s all of a sudden. And hey presto, what do I find but the mad woman here, with her road rage and badly manicured fingernails.’
I curled my nails into my fists and not because I was ashamed of them. I wasn’t a violent person, but I wasn’t sure how much more I could take from Pandora Diamond. The air in the shop was almost quivering with tension. Sam looked furious.
‘OK, Pandora, stop.’ He held his hands up. ‘Fearne did help me put a bouquet together. But there was nothing underhand about it. And as for tonight, the rest of the lads fancied having a go themselves so we arranged for Fearne to run a workshop for us all. That’s it. I’ve got nothing to hide.’
He stepped closer to me and leaned on the end of the counter. ‘Fearne, I’m sorry you’ve been caught up in this, you’ve been nothing but accommodating and kind.’
I shot him a smile. ‘It’s fine.’
It wasn’t fine; I wanted Pandora out of my shop.
His wife harrumphed. ‘Dress it up how you like, Sam Diamond, but you lied to me. You knew how much I wanted to go out with the other students on my yoga course tonight.’
‘Sam said you were doing a weekly yoga course,’ I said slyly. ‘That sounds energetic.’
She glared at me suspiciously and carried on. ‘But when I asked you to babysit you made up a ridiculous lie about your mother.’
‘I’m sorry about that but you only asked today,’ Sam explained wearily. ‘This was in the diary first. I couldn’t cancel my plans.’
‘Ha.’ She threw her hands up in the air. ‘First. That sums you up. Always putting yourself first.’
I looked from Sam to Pandora. My heart was thumping. I hated this. I couldn’t bear to hear them fighting. The years fell away and I was a little girl again, hiding under the dining table holding Freddie’s hand, listening to Mum and Dad arguing with each other.
I’d heard people talk about staying together for the sake of the children. But the best thing my parents did for us was to separate; make new lives for themselves. Freddie and I might have lost touch with Dad but Mum had blossomed without having to live in an unhappy home, and so, eventually had we. I looked down at my own hand, wishing Freddie’s was curled around it now and a tear pooled in my eye.
‘Wow.’ Sam gave a low whistle. ‘I don’t know how you can say that and still keep a straight face.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh please, not the Saint Sam speech again.’
I wanted to shout at Pandora, yell that it was she who was the liar, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. What happens in the florist, stays in the florist; I could hear Nina’s voice as clearly as if she was in the room. But Pandora had crossed the line: not only was she the one in the wrong, but she was trying to turn the tables on Sam.
‘Sometimes I think you only wanted to give our marriage another shot because I’m a convenient babysitter.’ Sam’s face was set li
ke stone.
Pandora gasped. ‘Oh my God. Are you saying you resent spending time with your own children?’
He gritted his teeth. ‘You’re twisting my words. I love them to bits; I’ve certainly seen more of them than I have of you in the last few weeks.’
She began pacing up and down the shop. ‘I’ve heard it all now. There I am, studying hard, trying to build a career for myself because you’re always moaning that you can’t afford our lifestyle. We can’t afford the kids’ school, I can’t have a new car. Blah blah blah.’
An idea hit me suddenly: I couldn’t say anything, but if Sam happened to see the order from another man to his wife, then I wouldn’t have done wrong, would I?
I pulled the order book from under the counter, flipping back the pages to the date in question. It was easy to remember because it had been Nina’s last day in the florist’s. Sam’s team mates had abandoned their pretence of not eavesdropping and were hovering, grim-faced in the front half of the shop.
‘I’m going to ask you a question now and I want the truth.’ Sam caught hold of his wife’s hand. ‘Do you still love me?’
She glared at him, saying nothing, which to me said everything.
‘Perhaps you should take this outside,’ Tom said softly to Sam, resting a hand on his shoulder.
‘I need to know.’ Sam shrugged him off. ‘Pandora. Yes or no?’
The silence was oppressive and then she swallowed, looking down at their linked hands.
‘We were good for a while, Sam.’
He smiled sadly, letting her hand drop away.
‘But you don’t love me,’ he murmured.
She said nothing, checking the screen on her phone instead.
‘So why ask me to come back?’ He stared at her, confused and hurt. ‘Why let me do all that work around the house, painting, decorating, gardening? Giving me false hope?’
‘I thought we could make a go of it for the children. But we can’t; we want different things and now of course, there’s her.’ She nodded in my direction. ‘Sorry, I don’t buy it; you’re clearly having an affair with her. You were all over her when I banged on the window. I want a divorce.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Pandora.’ Sam raised his hands to his face and swore under his breath.
‘What?’ She pouted. ‘You can’t expect me to sit back and take it. And look on the bright side; at least the house is ready for sale.’
‘Marriage vows are sacred,’ I said fiercely. ‘Whether they are mine or not I would never break them. Never. The bigger question is, would you?’
‘You stay out of it,’ she spat.
Sam turned to me, lines of sadness etched into his face. ‘Fearne, I can’t apologise enough.’
My pulse quickening, I grabbed a pen and circled the order showing the address of his family home and nudged the book towards him. His eyes followed my pen but his face didn’t register anything.
‘I’m sorry, lads,’ Sam began, his body language defeated.
I circled the details again, more firmly this time and tapped the pen to attract his attention.
‘I think we should probably go home and … what?’ His jaw dropped as his attention was finally caught by the order book. He blinked at the page.
‘That’s our address. Gareth Weaver, your ex?’ he gasped in disbelief. His eyes widened as he read on. ‘A great night, your sexy tiger … Pandora? What the hell? Are you seeing Gareth behind my back?’
His eyes blazed at his wife and she froze, horror-struck. Her mouth flapped open and closed like a suffocating goldfish.
‘And you have the nerve to accuse me?’ Anger was coming off him in waves.
‘Sam,’ Pandora stuttered, laughing nervously ‘it was just a bit of fun, he—’
‘Save it.’ His lips curled in disgust. He flipped the book shut without looking at anyone and strode to the door. ‘I don’t want to know.’
He slammed the door behind him. Pandora yanked it open and ran after him, calling his name but he didn’t turn around.
I collapsed onto a stool and tried to catch my breath. My heart was knocking so hard against my ribs that I hardly heard the rest of the cricket team take their flowers and say their goodbyes.
Once the shop was empty I sank down beside Scamp’s basket. I breathed out the tension I’d been holding and tried to ignore the trembling in my chest. My dog looked up at me with his gentle brown eyes and let out a little puff of breath as if he was relieved that everyone had gone.
I knew how he felt, but had I done the right thing? Or had I interfered in something that was none of my business? I’d definitely broken a client’s confidence and in so doing, I might also have broken Sam’s marriage. I wouldn’t be going to the cricket match tomorrow; in fact, it was probably best if I didn’t see Sam again for a very long time.
Chapter Seven
‘Long time no see, big brother. I’ve missed you.’
My voice was low, but it needn’t have been; it was nine o’ clock on Sunday morning and the cemetery was still deserted. Even at this early hour, the sun was getting warm. The moisture on the grass after yesterday’s rain was rising as steam, giving a suitably eerie mistiness to the air.
I traced Freddie’s name on the headstone with my fingertips and I felt the pain of his loss like a physical ache in my sternum. I hadn’t been to visit his grave since the day after I’d found his letter; it felt good to be here again, connecting with him, as if by sharing my news, he was somehow still part of my life.
I picked up the vase which stood just below his headstone. The flowers I’d left here back in March had long since disappeared and I tipped out dried bits of leaf. I took it to the tap, washed it out and refilled it with clean water, yawning to myself. I’d watched the clock for most of the night, unable to sleep and it was almost a relief when Scamp had insisted on getting up at six to pay a visit out to the back garden. After that I’d made tea and sat outside with him, brooding over the incident with Pandora and Sam in front of his friends.
Before locking up the shop last night, I’d collected some of the leftover flowers from the workshop and gathered them into a posy. And now here I was, arranging them on my brother’s grave.
‘I’d give anything for a proper chat,’ I murmured. ‘Just a bit of reassurance that I’m not a terrible person. But you’ll just have to listen instead.’
Scamp had settled on the path nearby, his chin resting on his front paws. Poor dog; he wasn’t having the best of days either. Ethel’s house had been sold and the new occupants, a couple in their twenties with a little girl, had arrived noisily at the crack of dawn. I’d left Scamp inside and gone out to say hello and they told me they’d be here for a few hours taking measurements for curtains and furniture. Poor Scamp had sat and howled at the window, confused by the intruders in his old home.
I knelt down on the damp grass and unwrapped the brown paper from the flowers, spreading them out so I could select each stem easily.
‘You’d really like Sam,’ I said softly. ‘You’d warn me off him, I’m sure, and tell me that married men are off limits, no exceptions. And you’d be right. Don’t worry, I haven’t done anything to be ashamed of. But I do really like him. The question is, does he still like me? As a friend, I mean. He might really resent me for being the one to spill the beans about Pandora’s affair.’
I sighed and popped the flowers into the vase absent-mindedly: gerberas, stocks, roses …
‘I probably sound like a right misery, full of woe,’ I said. ‘But until last night, things were going pretty brilliantly. Working at the florist’s is making me happy: the village is really friendly, the people are so kind, I’m enjoying being creative and I love sharing my love of flowers with others. I might even be quite good at teaching people how to do it for themselves. Ten cricket players last night. Yes, you heard that right. Your antisocial sister chose to spend the evening in a large group.’
I turned the vase around, automatically checking the display from all angles.
‘But I think I’ve really messed up where Sam’s concerned; I’ve been unprofessional and that’s unforgivable. I never ever thought I’d fall for a married man, and I have. At least technically he’s still married. And this could be all in my imagination, but there was a moment last night when I thought he might feel the same as me.’
I groaned. ‘That’s probably wishful thinking on my part. He’s too honourable for that. Worse luck,’ I added softly.
I sat in silence for a few moments and picked up a handful of the pea gravel which covered the grave, letting it run through my fingers. In the distance, I heard the heavy wrought iron gates to the cemetery clang open and shut again; people were starting to arrive to visit their loved ones, to reminisce about the past and share their new stories just like me.
I didn’t want Sam to be part of my past, I realised with a jolt. Which meant putting all thoughts of any sort of relationship other than friendship out of my head. I’d give Sam space, but I’d let him know I was thinking about him, that I could be a friendly ear if he needed one. There was nothing wrong with that, was there?
‘I’ll send him one text, just one,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘What do you reckon? I’ll check he’s OK and I’ll apologise for causing upset. Then I’ll leave it. He knows where to find me.’
I called to Scamp and then blew a kiss in the direction of Freddie’s headstone.
‘Thanks for listening Freddie. I love you.’
‘I sent him a text yesterday but I haven’t had a reply. What if Pandora found it and is using it as evidence of us having an affair. What if I’ve made matters worse? And then there’s Nina. I should probably tell her what I’ve done.’ I reached for the mayonnaise, added an extra squirt to the side of my plate and dipped my chicken into it.
‘At least your misplaced anxiety hasn’t dented your appetite,’ said Laura, watching me tuck into my dinner.
‘Very funny,’ I mumbled through a mouthful of food. ‘And it isn’t misplaced.’
It was Monday evening and Hamish, Laura and I were sitting in my suntrap of a garden with Scamp at our feet. The doors to our little Tiki bar were open, the music was on and I’d even dusted down and rehung the bunting in honour of the occasion. The barbeque had been put back on active service and for the last hour, I’d cooked salmon and pesto parcels, lemon chicken kebabs and steak marinated in Sam’s special spicy rub. Scamp was in seventh heaven as various titbits found their way onto the patio and despite my continued concerns about Sam, I was pretty pleased with myself. It was the first time in almost a year that I’d cooked for anyone else and it felt like an enormous milestone.
My Kind of Happy - Part Three: A new feel-good, funny serial from the Sunday Times bestseller Page 6