The Little Flower Shop by the Sea (17 page)

‘Where have you been?’ Amber demands. ‘It was manic in here, people everywhere. They were asking for you, wanting to talk to Rose’s granddaughter, I turned around to find you, and you were nowhere to be seen.’

‘I’m really sorry,’ I say, feeling even more guilty about leaving Amber to cope on her own. ‘I just had to get away for a bit.’

‘On your opening day!’

‘I know… I know, I panicked.’

‘Poppy has a problem with crowds,’ Charlie explains helpfully. ‘Don’t you, Poppy? She needed some air, so we went for a walk to clear her head.’

I nod. ‘I’m sorry, it’s no excuse. I know I should have been here to help you.’

‘Crowds?’ Amber exclaims in relief. ‘That’s it? Thank the Lord. As you can see, the crowd situation didn’t last too long once everyone had been in to have their five-minute gawp, and I can’t imagine it will ever get like that again. After the way you were behaving earlier, I thought for one teeny-weeny moment you might have a problem with flowers. But then I thought, who would be silly enough to open a florist shop if they had a flower phobia?’

‘Haha,’ I laugh, a little too forcefully. ‘Flower phobia, how silly would that be?’

‘Not as silly as you might think,’ Amber says knowingly. ‘We did this wedding in New York for a woman who hated fresh flowers – something happened to her in her childhood, I think. Anyway, we had to do the whole thing in silk flowers! It was quite the challenge, but your mom coped brilliantly. The venue looked amazing!’

‘Really…?’ I reply uncomfortably. ‘That’s great. Well, no worries about that here.’ I gesture around the shop. ‘Everything in Daisy Chain is good and fresh!’ My glance rests on Jake as I turn around, and I notice how his brow crinkles between his eyebrows as he stares thoughtfully at me. So I quickly look away.

‘Right then,’ Jake says. ‘As long as you’re back safe and sound, I guess I can go now. Miley,’ he calls to the monkey, currently decorating herself in a roll of floristry ribbon. ‘Time to go.’

‘Thanks, Jake,’ Amber says, ‘for staying back and helping. It was good of you.’

‘No worries,’ Jake says, smiling as Miley bounds up on to his shoulder, still with the ribbon. ‘Any time.’ He looks at Miley and rolls his eyes. ‘We’re bringing that home, are we?’ he asks her, as she twirls the ribbon above her head like a rhythmic gymnast.

‘Keep it,’ Amber says. ‘I’m not keen on orange anyway.’

‘Right, you,’ he attempts to ruffle the top of Charlie’s head, which is almost level with his, but Charlie ducks out of the way. ‘Let’s go. See you guys later.’

Jake, Miley and Charlie head off, and I turn to face Amber.

‘Right,’ Amber says. ‘It’s your turn to man the shop for a while.’

‘Where are you going?’ I ask as she heads for the door.

‘To get some milk so we can have a cuppa, of course,’ she says, grinning at her use of the English slang. ‘Then you can tell me all about where you went with Charlie.’

The shop is quiet through what little is left of the morning and through lunchtime. In the early afternoon we see a few tourists, but most people pass us by on their way down to the harbour carrying pasties, ice creams and cakes for impromptu picnics in the spring sunshine.

‘Don’t worry,’ Amber says as she begins to cash up the till at the end of our first day. ‘We’re new here, people aren’t used to buying fresh flowers on their high street yet, and remember there’s that – what did Harriet call it, a “jamboree”? – at the church today. That might be taking a few people away. It’ll pick up.’

‘Possibly,’ I say from my position by the door where I’ve been on and off for much of the day, gulping down fresh air as the waves of nausea return whenever I get a waft of the sweet scent of roses.

‘It will,’ Amber says positively. ‘I just know it. And I’m never wrong!’

I smile at her. Amber is the complete antithesis to me. She’s always so upbeat and optimistic. Whereas I tend to expect the worst in people, Amber invariably sees the best. She’s good for me to be around, and I feel lighter as a result of spending so much time with her.

‘What’s so interesting outside?’ Amber asks. ‘You’ve been standing by that door all afternoon.’

‘I was looking up at Trecarlan,’ I tell her. This wasn’t a lie; I had spent some of my time doing this.

‘That old castle on the hill?’ Amber asks. ‘I’ve seen that. Who lives there, do you know?’

‘I’m not sure about now, but when I was a child the castle was owned by Stan, an elderly eccentric who everyone thought was a bit mad.’

‘Really? How fabulous. I love eccentric old people. Who was this Stan? Was he like a duke or something grand like that?’

‘No.’ I smile, remembering. ‘Stan was the least grand person you could meet. He lived at Trecarlan on his own with no family. But there was a rumour he’d once eaten a dozen giant Cornish pasties in one sitting, and so he’d earned himself the nickname Mad Stan the Pasty Man.’

‘Wow, I love it!’ Amber claps her hands together enthusiastically. ‘Tell me more. I adore this Stan already.’

‘Everyone thought Stan was a bit doolally,’ I recall, as I’m taken back to a period in my life when I seem to have been happy all the time. ‘But I had many a lovely conversation with him, and we often played up at Trecarlan Castle in the summer months. Stan loved talking about Trecarlan’s history, and if you took him a pasty, he’d happily tell you tales about the castle – which isn’t really a castle,’ I explain, ‘it’s more like a big country house that looks a bit castle-esque from outside.’

‘How fantastic. I would love to have played in a castle when I was young. Did you pretend you were a princess?’ Amber asks, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

‘Yes,’ I grin, ‘I did sometimes.’

And Will would usually play the prince, or more often a knight brandishing a pretend sword he’d fashion from a twig.

Will and I had loved Stan, and spent many happy hours with him. Mad or not, we found him to be a lovely, kind man with a good heart.

‘Anyway,’ I say, shaking myself from my reverie, ‘that’s in the past. We need to get this shop shut up for the night. What can I do to help?’

I close the shop door and pull the bolt across. Then I move towards the desk.

‘You’re good. I’ve got this,’ Amber says as she counts out some notes from the till. ‘Why don’t you begin carrying the buckets of flowers back to the cold store?’

I’d have rather cashed up the till. But I still feel bad about abandoning Amber earlier, so I do as she asks, trying to hold the first bucket at arm’s length from my face without being too obvious about it.

‘So what do you think of the people in St Felix now we’ve been here a while?’ Amber calls as I’m just returning to the shop for my fourth bucket. I’m leaving the roses till last in the hope Amber might finish cashing up and help me.

‘Er…’ I’m surprised by her question. ‘They seem very nice. I’m not keen on that Caroline, though. She’s definitely got it in for me. Gives me the evils every time I see her – which thankfully isn’t too often. I’ve no idea why though. I’ve done nothing to her – except for the night in the pub, but that was ages ago.’

‘She’s like that with everyone,’ Amber says dismissively, busily writing figures in a book. ‘You should see her at the Women’s Guild meetings. She rules them with a rod of iron.’

Encouraged by Willow and Beryl, Amber had joined the Women’s Guild and had very much enjoyed the first meeting she’d attended.

‘I can imagine that,’ I say, thinking about Caroline as I carry a bucket of carnations out to the back and place them in the cold store with the others. ‘What does she actually do in St Felix though?’ I ask as I return. ‘I mean, apart from be a busybody. Does she have a job?’

Amber shrugs and begins sweeping the piles of coins into tiny plastic bags. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t know what she does. She lives in that nice house as you drive out of town, the big red one.’

‘Caroline lives there? It’s massive! She and her husband must be loaded.’

‘I’ve only met Johnny the once. I think someone told me he was a banker. Seems like a cool guy though. Talking of which,’ Amber says glancing at me, ‘Jake is a really nice guy too. Don’t you think?’

‘Yeah,’ I try to sound noncommittal as I lift the last bucket not to contain roses. ‘He seems it.’

‘Hot, too.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Come on, Poppy, even you must be able to see that.’

‘What do you mean “even me”?’ I ask, putting the bucket down.

‘Well, you hardly try with anyone, do you – let alone men.’

‘I do try,’ I protest. ‘I’m just not a people person.’

‘What are you then – an animal person?’ Amber enquires, grinning. ‘I hardly see you jumping to play with Miley when she’s around.’

‘I’m better on my own, that’s all. People end up hurting you when you let them get close.’

I expect Amber to say something to the contrary, but instead she nods. ‘That is sadly often the case. But you can’t let that stop you from trying to find people who
won’t
let you down.’

‘Are you suggesting Jake might be that person?’ I ask, opening my eyes wide.

‘He might be, he might not. But why don’t you let him in? He obviously likes you.’

‘What? When has he ever suggested that?’ I’m trying to act shocked, but inside I’m intrigued by Amber’s suggestion.

‘Like I said before: I know these things.’ Her eyes dart to the window behind me. ‘Ooh how about you pop down to the shop and get some milk while I finish up here?’

‘Didn’t you buy milk earlier?’ I say, frowning at her. ‘How much tea have we drunk?’

‘But we don’t have any in the refrigerator back at the cottage, and you know how partial I am to your English cuppas. Go to the shop for me, Poppy, will you,
please
?’

‘OK,’ I sigh, thinking about the bucket of roses still waiting ominously for me. ‘Your wish is my command!’ I wink at her. ‘I’ll grab my bag then meet you at the cottage – you’re sure you’re OK locking up?’

‘Yes, of course. Now go, go!’ Amber flaps her hand at me.

I shake my head. ‘Anyone would think you wanted me out of here.’

Amber grins. ‘Nope, I just want you to go to the shop. And if you see anything else you fancy while you’re there, why don’t you pick that up too?’

At Amber’s request I walk across the street to the little supermarket, and head for their dairy section. I pick up a litre of semi-skimmed milk, and as I head past the biscuit aisle I stop to pick up a packet of chocolate HobNobs and a packet of Tunnock’s Teacakes, both of which Amber has become addicted to since she’s been here.

‘Moment on the lips, lifetime on the hips!’ I hear behind me, and I turn to see Jake carrying his own basket of food.

‘They’re for Amber,’ I tell him quickly.

‘I thought Oreos would be more her thing,’ Jake says, grinning as he lifts a packet from the shelf.

‘Nope, apparently our English cookies are the best. She’s completely hooked on tea and biscuits these days.’

‘And so she should be,’ he says, putting the packet down. ‘You can’t beat a good cuppa.’

I stare at him. That’s it, that’s why Amber was so desperate for me to come in here. She’d seen Jake passing by with a cotton shopping bag, apparently heading for the supermarket.

At the same time as I’m growling internally, I notice that the shop, which was almost empty when I entered, is suddenly filling with a bottle-green sea of children all clambering to buy sweets and fizzy drinks.

‘Cub and scout jamboree,’ Jake informs me as we watch them swarm all over the shop. ‘Clarence said he was expecting quite a few in the grounds of the church today. It must have just finished.’

I nod, and look desperately towards the exit. I need to get out of here and fast; the kids are everywhere, and already I can feel my temperature starting to rise.

But there’s no way I’m going anywhere: the aisles are crammed with green shirts and hats, and would remain that way until all sugar cravings had been extinguished.

I grab a packet of Kit-Kats from the shelf and begin fanning my face.

‘Are you OK, Poppy?’ Jake asks. ‘Is this crowd of kids too much for you?’

‘I’m fine,’ I insist in a tight voice. ‘Just fine.’ But I can feel my head beginning to swim, and a familiar feeling of nausea making an unwelcome return.

‘Right, let’s get you out of here,’ I hear Jake say, just as I feel my knees buckle.

‘Out of the way, kids!’ Jake instructs in a firm voice as he puts my arm around his strong shoulders and half guides, half lifts me out of the shop. ‘That’s it, move aside.’

Like a diver rising to the surface of a deep, dark sea, I register daylight, that had seemed so far away a few moments ago, rapidly getting closer as we weave our way through the children to the exit, then outside into the fresh air.

‘Here, take a seat,’ Jake instructs, sitting me down on the bench outside the shop. Amber and I have taken to calling it the ‘gossip’ bench, as it usually houses two or more of St Felix’s elderly residents discussing the events of the day in great detail. ‘Now, take some deep breaths.’

I do as he says, and as always, now that I’m safely removed from one of my ‘trigger factors’, I begin to feel better almost at once.

‘Sorry,’ I tell him, as Jake watches me with great concern. ‘I’m fine – really.’