by Casey, L. A.
“Yes!” AJ all but danced on the spot. “That woman knows how to cook. If she wasn’t Stitch’s wife, she’d at least be my baby’s mum by now.”
I snorted. “If Stitch heard ye talkin’ like that, he’d kill ye.”
“What’d he say about my wife?”
AJ froze and looked at me when Stitch’s voice filled the room. He was like a ghost – he appeared and disappeared at will. I looked from AJ to him and grinned. “He said if your missus wasn’t your wife she’d be his baby’s mum because he loves her cookin’ so much.”
“Rat!” AJ hissed. “You’re a fuckin’ rat.”
I sniggered as he turned and smiled at Stitch. “He’s a barefaced liar, and I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, Stitch. You shouldn’t pay him any attention.”
I continued to eat my pasta as Stitch advanced on AJ, who actually began to scream as he dodged to the left and fled the room. For someone who hated fighting, he always let his mouth get him into trouble.
“Fuck you, Irish . . . I’m still starving!” I heard him say.
Stitch grinned. “She is a good cook though, huh?”
With my mouth full I bobbed my head, and my friend left the room, thoroughly amused.
I checked my phone as I ate and sent Noah a text when I saw she hadn’t messaged me yet.
Are you still sleeping, green eyes? It’ll be great for my ego if you are.
My phone buzzed within seconds.
I’m awake, but you’ll be happy to know . . . I can practically feel you with each step I take.
Amused, and very much filled with pride, I tapped a text out on the screen.
Stroking my ego will get you everywhere with me.
I washed my dirty plate and fork before placing them on the drying rack. I checked my phone when I was done, and grinned when I read Noah’s reply.
I’d rather stroke something else . . . text me later, I’m researching flower shops to see if anyone is hiring. When I get my boot off in a few weeks I should be ready to get back working. No harm in looking. Wish me luck.
As long as she was just looking and not planning to march off to a job tomorrow, I was happy for her. I knew how eager she was to have some semblance of normality back in her life.
Good luck, I replied. Love you.
Her reply was instant.
Love you too.
“Why’re you staring at your phone with that creepy smile?”
I looked up. “Stitch let ye live, I see.”
“No thanks to you.” AJ glared, rubbing his stomach. “Move away from the fridge. I took a solid to the gut to get some of that fucking pasta and I’m having a big plate.”
I stepped away and gestured for him to have at the fridge.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
I hopped up on to the counter and watched AJ move about the room.
“What question?”
“Why were you smiling at your phone like a creep?”
I snorted. “I was textin’ Noah.”
“Sexting?”
“No, perv.” I grinned at his frown. “Just regular textin’. I told her I loved her and she said she loved me too. I’m still gettin’ used to hearin’ it again. Makes me feel all special and shit.”
AJ didn’t tease me; he surprised me by nodding.
“I’m happy for you, brother,” he said. “You and Noah deserve the best.”
“Thanks, man.” I patted his shoulder he passed me by to heat his food up in the microwave. “How are things with Dani?”
“I told her to move in with me and she said okay,” he answered. “She was sleeping over at my place five nights a week before we even made things official. It makes sense just to move all her crap in.”
He said this so casually that I thought I’d misheard him.
I stared at him in disbelief. “You want her to move in – you’d have never brought it up otherwise.”
AJ scowled. “Don’t overanalyse things, fanny boy.”
I widened my eyes when he appeared . . . flustered.
“You’re in love.”
“I am fucking not.”
“Ye are.” I hopped down from the counter. “You’re in love with Dani and you’re havin’ a silent panic attack. I can see it in your eyes!”
“You shut your whore mouth!”
“Admit it!” I demanded. “Admit you’re in love with Dani.”
“Okay!” AJ shouted, his hands flying up in the air. “You’re right, I love her. I am a man in love. Christ, help me. I’m freaking the fuck out. I only realised it this morning when I caught myself smiling at her like a fucking creep while she slept. What do I do? She can’t know; the power it’ll give her over me will be a force to be reckoned with.”
I burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“Me boy is a man, he’s in love.”
“Stop smiling at me like a proud mother and help me. Slap this out of me! Do your duty as my brother!”
I hugged him instead, making him curse me as he gave my back a rough slap.
“Tell her,” I said, ruffling his hair like he was a kid. “Trust me. Tell her all the time, she’ll love hearin’ it and ye’ll feel good sayin’ it.”
“I’m shittin’ it . . . What if she laughs at me?”
“You just echoed exactly what I said back when I told Noah I liked her on me eighteenth birthday . . . Ye told me then that ye know women, so why are ye askin’ me?”
“’Cause Dani’s not just any woman, she’s my woman, and I love her so much it scares the shit outta me.”
I snapped my fingers. “Repeat those exact words to her. That was gold.”
“I have to time it right,” AJ said, scratching his chin. “How did you tell Noah?”
“She was actually in the middle of breakin’ up with me when I told her, and then we had sex for the first time in her parents’ house right after.”
“You’re no fucking help, Irish.” My friend looked me up and down. “None at all.”
I was chuckling as my phone began to ring. It was my mother, and I answered it straight away.
“Heya, Ma, I’m at work—”
“Elliot!” My mother’s voice sobbed through my phone, pulling the smile from my face. Suddenly I got a feeling in the pit of my stomach of sickening dread. “Oh, Elliot. Noah knows . . . she knows about Bailey! Please, come! Oh, Elliot. Please.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
NOAH
Three days had passed since I was discharged from the hospital, and I had been in a bubble of love with Elliot for two of them. We were holed up in our flat just enjoying being with one another. We ate together, watched films together, showered together and made love to one another every chance we got. I was happier than I had ever been, and the only thing that was stopping me from throwing myself into my new life was Anderson Riley. The man deserved better than what he thought I could give him, and I hoped that, with time, he would understand that the divorce I wanted would be as much for his benefit as it was for mine.
I just had to get up the courage to tell him.
Elliot was supposed to have four days off work. That was how his shifts worked – four days on with two day shifts and two night shifts, and four days off – but a friend of his on a different watch had poorly twins and an ill wife, and had asked if Elliot could cover his watch today. Elliot had been reluctant but I encouraged him to go – and to get out of the flat we had been locked inside for more than forty-eight hours. He’d kissed me senseless before he left and told me all the things he was going to do to me when he got home that evening, making me tingle with excitement.
In the meantime, I wanted to get some fresh air . . . and visit a flower shop. I missed being around the scent of them – and being surrounded by them. I knew I was likely to get a telling off for going into town by myself, but I needed the time outside and some alone time in general. I just wanted to take a stroll . . . or as much of a stroll as I could take while walking with the aid of crutches.
&n
bsp; I had been cooped up in the hospital for so long that two days inside of a flat was killing me inside. I was desperate to develop a somewhat normal routine where I wasn’t staring at walls every hour of the day. I was very conscious of not overdoing it, but a little fatigue was worth it in order to feel like I was living again. I had always been quite independent, and after the last couple of months of being helpless I wanted to prove to myself that I could be alone and still be okay.
Once I knew I could tackle a stroll, I wouldn’t feel as worried when I eventually told Elliot about my little adventure. He worried over me constantly, so showing him – and myself – that I was truly on my way to being physically healthy again was important to me. As much as I loved his help and attention, I didn’t want to become a burden to him or a responsibility. I simply wanted to be his partner and his equal – and once I was better, he could step down from the twenty-four-seven Noah care service he was currently offering.
I dressed with ease, pulling on a sky-blue sundress that fell to my mid-thigh to reflect the warm May day. After I put my sock and shoe on to my good foot, I put my hair into two French plaits, and popped on some mascara and lip balm. I didn’t look like anything special, but I felt like a million quid. With my boot securely fastened, I made sure I had the key Elliot had given me to the flat, as well as some money and my new phone. Then I hooked the strap of my bag over my head and left the flat, locking the door behind me before making my way outside and to the bus stop.
I was going to All in Bloom, the flower shop I’d worked at in Tulse Hill. It was only a ten-minute walk from my and Elliot’s flat, but that ten-minute walk could easily turn into an hour with how slow I was moving these days, and how many breaks I knew I’d need to take. The bus made the journey less than a couple of minutes long, and the shop was within sight of the bus stop at the other end.
With a smile on my face, I took my time as I walked down the street. Not much had changed on this particular road since I remembered it last, and I was pleased about that. But as I got on the bus and gazed out the window, the entire neighbourhood looked different. It was astonishing to see how much even little changes could alter my impression of a place. I noticed so many new things that it was both astounding and somewhat disturbing. When change happens gradually, people tend not to notice it. But when you’re disconnected from a place during the time of that change, you notice the differences right away. Or at least I did.
And that was how I felt when I entered All in Bloom, my old place of work. I noticed everything that was different. The floor space was bigger, and I recalled that the owner, Helen, had briefly talked about expanding the shop once she got planning permission for an extension from the council.
There were thick, dark wooden ceiling beams and the walls were a bright, crisp white with colourful decor. The shop itself had a whole new layout that took customers on a little path as they browsed. It was beautiful . . . It was also my idea.
I had drawn up a plan of what I wanted my own flower shop to look like in the future. I had never kept it a secret that one day I wanted to run my own place, make my own rules and bring to life a vision I saw in my head. I felt my heart pinch knowing that Helen had obviously taken a liking to my plan and put it to use herself. I didn’t feel angry though, just disappointed. And that disappointment quickly changed to motivation. The plan I’d drawn up wasn’t the only one I’d thought of – it was simply one of many. I was confident that, when the day came for me to design and open my own shop, it would be with more thought than what I’d put into the design Helen was currently using.
I wished her all the best.
Wanting to view the entire shop, I began to walk the flower trail. Lesley, who’d been the manager when I worked in the shop, wasn’t around from what I could see, and I didn’t know either of the two middle-aged women who were currently working in the shop, so I didn’t strike up conversation. Once I told them I was just browsing, I took my time looking around the arrangements, pieces and loose flowers on display. The smell of all the mixed scents was like a drug. It always brought a smile to my face; it was a scent that made me feel very much at home. I’d missed it.
I couldn’t wait to get back to work.
Excited that I hadn’t lost my love for flowers and the desire to work with them, I wondered when I could realistically look into flower shops that were hiring. I mean, as soon as I got home I would be researching my arse off, but I had to think of when I would be ready to work again. The only thing holding me back right now was my leg. Normally wearing a boot cast was only a six- to eight-week ordeal, but as I had fractured the same leg in two places once before, the newest fracture was even more severe and had required more screws, pins and metal plates to repair it – which left me wearing the boot for at least ten weeks.
I had another four weeks of wearing the boot, and I had eight physical therapy sessions left during that time that would strengthen my leg and get me walking crutch- and boot-free. As much as I didn’t want to wait until then to get back working, maybe it was what was best for me. I was still fresh out of the hospital, and a few more weeks of taking it easy and adjusting to a regular life again would be good for me.
It would be good for Elliot and my parents too. When I took on a responsibility that would allow me to be left to my own devices all day, with only myself to depend on, it would be an adjustment for them too.
I took my phone from my bag when it pinged. It was Elliot messaging me and asking if I was awake. I suddenly felt like a little kid who’d been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. I wasn’t going to tell him I was out and about in Tulse Hill at my old shop. He would probably have a heart attack out of fear I would suddenly collapse or something. So I played it cool as we sent texts back and forth. I couldn’t text and walk at the same time due to my crutches, so I wrapped my conversation up with Elliot and left the shop.
There were no signs I could see that the place was hiring, and I wasn’t sure if I’d left the shop on good or bad terms with Helen the owner, but I thought I would add it down as one of the shops to check when I eventually applied. It had been a few years since I’d worked there . . . Helen probably wasn’t even the owner any more.
I walked back towards the bus stop, but I felt like skipping. My little adventure was rewarding, thoroughly enjoyable, and had given me a plan for the future and the determination to go with it. Having my drive back and something to look forward to would make the next few weeks more bearable. I had a goal, and I knew that once Elliot could see that I was getting stronger, he’d support me and help me in whatever way he could. My parents too.
I had to walk uphill to get back to the bus stop – in reality it wasn’t much more than a little incline, but my body was beginning to feel the ache that all this movement was causing. I paused and leaned against a wall, just to catch my breath. I frowned as I stared at the scene before me. There were piles of flowers against a partially damaged building wall – so many that the pathway was almost obstructed for pedestrians who were passing by. My heart hurt when I realised that someone had died there. I wondered what had happened, and before I knew it I was in front of the flower pile, to read one of the cards attached to the mountain of bouquets of flowers. Many of the flowers were bloomed pink lilies that were at different stages of dying.
I leaned forward and read the first one I spotted.
Rest easy, angel.
xoxo
Quick, simple and very sweet. I moved my eyes over more cards, but many of them were without the usual plastic sheets to protect them from being exposed to the weather and had been damaged. My eyes found a huge arrangement of pink lilies in the shape of a butterfly in flight – it was beautiful. I carefully lifted it up with one hand, squinted and began reading.
Sleep tight our darling Bailey girl.
Watch over us, and wait for us, beauty.
Love you always,
Da, Ma & Elliot xx
I stared at the card, reading it three times before I slowly lowered t
he flowers back down to the ground. Bailey girl. Da, Ma and Elliot. I blinked at the coincidence of the girl who had clearly died being called Bailey and having someone close to her – maybe a brother – with the name Elliot. I looked to my right when an older gentleman paused, like me, to peer at the flowers and read a couple of cards. He glanced at me, noticed I was looking at him, and smiled in greeting.
“Very sad.” He nodded to the flower pile. “The poor kid was only starting her life.”
“A child?” I asked, horrified. “The girl who died was only a child?”
I would have been sad for a person’s passing at any age, but there was something about a child losing their life before they had a chance to live it that struck me as truly tragic.
“To me, yes.” He nodded. “To you, not so much.”
I frowned. “She was an adult then?”
“Twenty-one or twenty-two, I think. I speak with her father every so often, he’s an Irishman. He owns McKenna’s pub.”
I stared at the man as a cold, painful sensation of dread churned in my stomach. His words were almost impossible for me to comprehend.
“Bailey?” I almost whispered. “Bailey McKenna? She . . . she died?”
“Yes.” The man nodded. “Poor kid. She’s buried over in West Norwood Cemetery; her brother was on duty when the accident happened, I heard. He’s a firefighter, he got a woman out of the car but the car was engulfed in flames before anyone could get to the girl. It’s horrible.”
I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
The man said something else to me, but I could no longer hear a word that came out of his mouth as his earlier words repeated over and over in my mind. An ache formed at my temples, and I lifted my hand to my forehead and closed my eyes. I focused on breathing in and out. It helped. When I opened my eyes, the man was staring at me, concern plastered all over his face.
“Mister, listen to me,” I said, an edge to my voice. “Are you sure it was Bailey McKenna? Maybe another Irish family owns a pub in town?”
“I’m sure they do.” His brown was furrowed. “But McKenna’s has been owned by the same man going on eleven years now. Seamus McKenna.”