The Little Flower Shop by the Sea (18 page)

‘I thought you were going to pass out on me back there,’ he says, nodding at the shop.

‘I probably would have if you hadn’t got me out. Sorry.’

‘Nothing to apologise for. We all have our demons.’

I wonder what he means.

‘I’ll be fine, really,’ I say, attempting to stand up, but I wobble slightly.

Jake catches hold of my arm. ‘Steady! Let me walk you back to Daisy Chain.’

‘No!’ I almost cry, thinking of the sweet flower scent that would only make things worse. ‘I mean, no, I’d rather take a walk – get some sea air, you know?’

‘Sure,’ Jake says, and with his arm linked firmly around mine we begin to walk down towards the harbour.

‘You know when you nearly fainted earlier,’ Jake asks after we’ve walked all the way along to the end of the harbour and the small lighthouse that proudly stands ready to guide the fishing boats into St Felix, ‘that was your problem with crowds again – yes?’

I nod.

Now that I’ve recovered, I’m mortified at my little episode, and how Jake had to rescue me from a bunch of school children.

In one day I’d come up against both my
phobias
– I hated calling them that – and Jake had witnessed it. Having a problem with crowds meant I invariably became centre of attention when I had one of my panic attacks and I found it excruciatingly embarrassing. My issues with fresh flowers I always kept well hidden. People had a certain amount of sympathy for you if they understood your phobia. The more common varieties, like agoraphobia and claustrophobia, were well known and people
got
why someone might be terrified. Fear of spiders, birds or certain animals – yes, that was understood too. But someone who has an irrational fear of flowers? That was just weird.

One of my therapists had informed me that the correct term for my anxiety was anthophobia – fear of flowers. But knowing it has an official name doesn’t make me feel any better or able to share my concerns with anyone. I know why I don’t like flowers, and no amount of therapy or counselling is going to change that.

We lean against the railings at the end of the harbour and look out at the sea. It’s high tide, and the waves are crashing against the harbour wall, sending spray up and over the rails. It feels fresh and revitalising against my skin. The glorious sunshine has given way to grey clouds that are being blown across the sky by a gusty wind.

‘Are you claustrophobic as well?’ Jake asks. ‘Did being in that small shop bother you when it got busy?’

‘No, it wasn’t that. Look, do you mind if we don’t talk about this, please? I’m feeling much better.’

‘Sure, if that’s what you want.’ Jake turns so we’re both facing out to sea, both leaning up against the green railings, both getting splashed with the salty spray.

‘It’s just you said you’d had therapy before and I wondered —’

‘Did I not just say I didn’t want to talk about this?’ I snap, and immediately feel bad. Jake has been very kind, he doesn’t deserve this. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you,’ I tell him. ‘I don’t like talking about my problems, that’s all.’

‘Sure, I understand.’ Jake nods, but doesn’t look at me.

A silence falls between us, broken only by the sounds of the sea, brazenly continuing to batter the wall below.

‘There’s no shame in having had therapy,’ Jake says, obviously deciding to ignore my request. ‘I had therapy when Felicity… left.’

I notice he says
left
and not
died
.

Knowing how therapy works, I wonder if this deliberate choice of words is the result of one of those sessions.

‘I know, Charlie told me earlier.’ I immediately regret saying that. What if Charlie didn’t want his dad to find out he’d shared that information.

Jake looks surprised. ‘Did he?’

‘Yes. He said you all had. But he thought Miley had probably done you more good than any therapy session. Where is she, by the way?’

‘With Bronte. Miley and supermarkets don’t go well together.’ Jake thinks for a moment. ‘Charlie is probably right though, about Miley. Of course I had the kids, and they were a great help; we all supported each other. But Miley gave me something new to think about, something that didn’t remind me of Felicity.’ He smiles ruefully. ‘That little monkey needed a lot of work in those early days – she kept us busy.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘It gave me a focus, and boy did I need something to focus on. I think I’d have gone off the rails if it wasn’t for her.’

‘She’s one cool customer, that’s for sure.’

‘She is that.’ Jake looks down into the waves and appears to be thinking about something so I don’t interrupt. ‘Look, Poppy,’ he says, suddenly turning to me, ‘I’m aware you don’t know me that well…’

Jake’s face is earnest and I wonder what he’s about to say.

‘I don’t expect you to talk about what’s happened in your past, that’s your business. But if you ever need —’

‘What do you know of my past?’ I ask sharply. We’ve been leaning on the harbour railings quite convivially, but now I stand bolt upright, my mind racing. ‘Has someone been talking? Has your aunt, that Lou woman, been saying things about me? Has she?’

Jake looks completely bewildered. ‘I don’t know what you —’

‘I bet she has,’ I continue, not giving him a chance to finish. ‘It’s none of her or your or anyone else’s business. What happened, happened years ago, and no one was there except me.
No one
knows exactly what happened but me. Understand?’

Jake, still looking confused, nods.

‘Right, where does your aunt live?’ I demand.

‘Bluebell Cottage, up on Jacob Street, but I really don’t see —’

But his words come too late; I’m already storming along the harbour towards Jacob Street and Bluebell Cottage.

No one gossips about my family.

No one.

I bang hard on the blue wooden door and wait.

Jake finally catches up with me. ‘What are you doing?’ he pants, out of breath from chasing me along the street and up another hill.

‘I won’t have people tittle-tattling about Will,’ I say, banging on the door with my fist.

‘Who the hell is Will?’ Jake asks.

I turn and look at him, debate for about two seconds whether to answer his question, then turn back to the door. I’m about to bang on it again when it swings open and Lou stands in front of us, looking annoyed and then surprised to see us.

‘Poppy, are you feeling better?’ she asks. ‘Why are you banging on my door? Has something happened?’ She looks back at Jake, concerned. ‘Is it the children?’

‘No, Lou,’ he begins from behind me. ‘It’s —’

‘Have you told him?’ I demand, interrupting Jake. I know I’m being incredibly rude, but I have to know.

Lou looks puzzled. ‘Told him what?’

I give her a meaningful look.

‘Poppy, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Look, I have to get back inside. Suzy is about to give birth.’

Suzy? Who is Suzy?

‘It’s happening now?’ Jake asks excitedly. ‘I thought she wasn’t due yet.’

‘I didn’t think she was,’ Lou says, holding open the door for Jake and me to come in. ‘But it’s happening a few days earlier than I anticipated. Seems Basil got to work quicker than I thought.’

And who is Basil?

As Jake and Lou disappear into the house, I have no choice but to follow. I’m not sure what I’m expecting to find as I enter Lou’s pretty cottage and we walk through to her living room, but it’s certainly not a brown-and-white spaniel lying in her dog bed in the corner. Blankets and towels surround her, and she’s panting and looking very hot and bothered.

‘Have you called the vet?’ Jake asks, kneeling down next to Suzy and stroking her head.

‘Yes, but he’s up at Monkswood Farm with a cow that’s having birthing difficulties. It seems all the animals in the area want to be born on May Day! I’ve delivered litters before, though,’ Lou says calmly. ‘I know what to do. I’m prepared.’

Another dog barks from outside.

‘That’s Basil,’ Lou says, seeing me look towards the back door. ‘He’s the puppies’ father, and he knows it too! He’s been pacing the house for days, waiting – a bit like me.’

‘Ah, right.’ I look at Suzy again. ‘How long before the puppies come?’

‘Could be minutes, could be hours,’ Lou says. ‘They’ll come when Suzy’s ready. So what was it you both called round for?’

‘Oh, it doesn’t matter now,’ I say. Seeing all this going on has made my temper tantrum seem less important. I’ll speak to Lou when she has less on her plate. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ I look down at poor Suzy; she’s panting hard, and I’m sure it won’t be long before the puppies start coming.

‘You could take Basil out for me?’ Lou says. ‘Like I said, he’s completely on edge about the puppies, so a quick walk would do him good. Whether he’ll go is a different matter though.’

‘Sure, I can try.’

‘Is that wise?’ Jake asks, ‘after… I mean, are you sure you feel well enough?’

‘Oh, what happened?’ Lou asks.

‘Nothing, really, I’m fine.’

But Lou turns to Jake for an answer.

‘She almost passed out, in the supermarket,’ Jake tells her. ‘I had to practically carry her out.’

‘Oh, you poor thing.’

‘I’m absolutely fine now,’ I insist, annoyed with Jake for telling on me. ‘I feel perfectly well enough to walk Basil for you, Lou, really.’

‘Well, you know best, lovey,’ Lou says, patting my arm. She heads towards the door. ‘Just watch Suzy for me, Jake, will you? I’ll be back in a tick. This way, Poppy.’

Lou leads me through to her kitchen, where she collects a red dog lead and some plastic bags, then we hurry out through the back door so Basil can’t get in.

Basil is the elderly basset-hound I’d seen Lou with outside the fish and chip shop the first night I arrived in St Felix. He looks up at us with large, doleful, very knowing brown eyes as we enter his garden.

‘Hey, Basil, want to go walkies?’ Lou asks, brandishing the lead in front of her.

‘Woof!’ Basil bounds over to us, and Lou attaches his lead to his collar.

‘He’s no trouble on walks,’ she tells me, ‘but he’s getting on a bit, so he doesn’t need to go for miles and miles any more.’

Basil sniffs around my feet. Then he sits down in front of me and looks up in that same knowing way he had when we’d entered the garden.

‘You seem to have made quite an impression,’ Lou says. ‘He doesn’t always like strangers. Perhaps he realises.’

‘Realises what?’ I say, eyeing Basil from above. It’s not that I have any issue with dogs, or any animals for that matter. I’m just not used to them these days.

‘That you’re related to Rose. Oh, don’t you know?’ she says, clapping her hand to her forehead. ‘I assumed someone would have told you. Basil was Rose’s dog. When she was taken into hospital, I said I’d look after him. After all, I had Suzy, and they already knew each other, so it seemed the ideal solution. Then of course when Rose didn’t return…’ As if Basil knows what she’s saying, he lets out a low howl. Lou crouches down and strokes his ear. ‘I know, fella, I miss her too.’

Basil nuzzles into her hand, and Lou rubs a little harder.

‘So he’s kind of hung around ever since, haven’t you, Basil? Him and Suzy get on fine – a bit too fine, actually, which is why I’m about to deliver goodness knows how many puppies. I thought old Basil was a bit past all that kind of thing and I didn’t need to worry, but it seems there’s life in the old dog yet – eh, Basil?’

I’m sure I see Basil smile.

‘Lou! You’d best get back in here!’ Jake calls from the house. ‘I think there’s one coming.’

Lou thrusts Basil’s lead and some bags into my hand.

‘He just worries, you know,’ she says as she dashes back up the garden towards the house. ‘Jake – it’s just his way, he doesn’t mean anything by it.’

I’m not sure if she’s referring to the forthcoming puppies, or to Jake’s earlier concerns about me taking Basil out.

‘Make sure you clean up his mess,’ she instructs as she disappears into the kitchen. ‘The Parish Council fine you if you don’t!’

I close my eyes for a moment.
Great
.

When I open them, Basil is looking up at me, panting.

‘Come on then, you,’ I say, leading him out of Lou’s back gate. ‘Perhaps you’d be good enough to keep it to number ones, if at all possible.’

Lou is right: Basil is easy to handle on the lead. He just pootles along next to me, stopping occasionally to sniff with his big long nose at anything that interests him, and when necessary he marks his territory with a small yellow trail.

I walk him back down into the town, and along Harbour Street, with the intention of us walking along the harbour front and then up on to the cliffs or maybe the beach, depending where the tide is at the moment. It’s May so the light is still good at this time, and the earlier threatening clouds I’d thought likely to bring rain when I’d been out with Jake are dispersing.

We’ve just passed The Blue Canary bakery, all shut up for the night now it’s gone six o’clock, and we’re just about to walk past Daisy Chain when Basil suddenly pulls up.