The Little Flower Shop by the Sea (19 page)

I’m not prepared for this, and my arm is nearly yanked out of its socket as the lead tightens behind me.

‘What’s wrong?’ I ask. I look at him sitting firmly on the ground. ‘Do you need to go poo-poo?’

I roll my eyes. What has my life become?

Basil just stares up at me, his big dark eyes blinking slowly.

‘Come on, Basil.’ I tug on his lead. ‘Don’t be awkward, we were getting on so well there for a while.’

But he won’t budge.

Then out of nowhere he starts howling.

Long, loud, pitiful howls that send chills right through me. He sounds a bit like a wolf deep in the middle of some dark dense forest. Except Basil is a slightly overweight elderly basset-hound, sitting on a cobbled street in a quiet Cornish seaside town – a wily old wolf he most certainly is not.

‘What’s wrong?’ I hiss at him, as a few passers-by give us odd looks. ‘Why are you doing that?’

Basil stops howling and launches himself at the flower-shop door. Then he begins frantically scratching at it.

‘Stop it!’ I tell him. ‘We’ve only just painted that! Come on.’ I pull on his lead again, but he won’t budge. He sits in front of the door, facing it.

‘Do you want to go into the shop?’ I ask him in a slightly gentler tone as I realise what might be wrong. ‘Is that it?’

Amber has already gone home, so I reach into my bag and pull out my shop key, then while Basil’s tail begins to wag very fast, I unlock the door and open it for him. He bursts in, tail still wagging, and sniffs the floor like a bloodhound.

‘She’s not here, you know,’ I tell him. ‘If you’re looking for Rose, Basil, she’s not here.’

Basil ignores my advice and continues to explore the shop. Surprisingly he knocks over very little as he pads about. Rose must have had him in here with her quite a lot; he seems to know his way about. He even goes out to the back and has a look there, so I follow him to the shop counter.

Eventually he returns, tail down, his long ears almost dragging on the floor. He looks at me in disappointment, as though it’s my fault he hasn’t found his owner hidden in the back room. Then he slowly curls up under the desk in a ball, and I wonder if that’s where Rose kept a bed for him when they were here together.

‘Oh, Basil, I’m so sorry,’ I tell him, kneeling down to stroke him. Then I remember what Lou had done and I rub his ear hard. He lifts his head and pushes his ear into my hand. ‘Aw, you like that, don’t you?’ I say.

I sit down crossed-legged under the desk, and continue to comfort him. It’s quite nice being here without all the people, and of course the flowers. The real flowers are all in the newly restored cold store out back, so there’s nothing for me to be freaked out by. It’s just me, Basil and the shop.

‘It stinks when someone dies, Basil,’ I tell him as we sit together under the wooden shop counter. ‘I know exactly how you feel.’

Basil looks up at me with his mournful eyes.

‘It must be harder for you. I guess you don’t really know what happened to Rose; one day she’s here and the next… well, you’re living with someone else.’ I pretend to give him a nudge. ‘At least you saw a bit of action living with Lou, eh, fella? That’s got to be a bonus at your time of life?’

Basil just yawns.

‘But you obviously miss my grandmother, that’s why you wanted to come back in here, somewhere you’d feel close to her. Perhaps that’s what we all long for, Basil, the chance to feel close to the person we lost. Just that one last time.’

As Basil puts his head on my lap and closes his eyes, I reach out my hand to touch the heart that’s engraved under the desk.

Rebels together forever
…
 

Basil and I sit in the shop companionably together for some time, Basil snoring gently as he sleeps contentedly with his head on my lap, and me thinking about St Felix past and present. But eventually I decide we must go back to find Lou and see how Suzy is getting on with her puppies. So I wake Basil and encourage him to join me outside for further walkies.

When we return to Lou’s cottage, I let myself in the back gate, take off Basil’s lead and refill his water bowl, then I promise him I’ll be back when I’ve found him some food in Lou’s kitchen.

‘Back in a mo,’ I tell him as he curls up on his bed outside. ‘You might be a daddy by now, several times over!’

I hunt around Lou’s old-fashioned kitchen for some dog food, stupidly looking in cupboards for tins. Then as I stub my toe on a large sack of Bakers dog food standing on the floor, I realise that looking after two dogs as big as Basil and Suzy must require large quantities of food, not silly little tins of Caesar like my neighbour back in London fed her two pugs.

I fill a clean silver dog bowl that I find on the kitchen counter with food, then I take it outside to Basil. He looks up at me as I place the bowl down next to him, sniffs the contents, then allows me to leave it there for his perusal later.

‘So much for being desperate to see your offspring, Basil,’ I tell him. ‘How about I go investigate on your behalf while you take another nap?’

Basil seems to like this idea. So while he settles down with his head on his paws I go inside to see what’s happening with Suzy.

I pause as I arrive outside the sitting room door, unsure whether to knock. How much privacy does a dog need when it’s giving birth? And it’s as I do that I notice something hanging on Lou’s wall. That’s interesting, I think, looking at an embroidered picture of a sweet pea. It’s a bit like the one Amber and I found in the box with the flower journals. I look closer; it has the same initials, VR, sewn into the petals of the flower that ours had.

‘Poppy, is that you?’ Lou calls from the sitting room, so I leave the picture and head in.

Lou and Jake are sitting on the floor in front of Suzy’s basket.

‘Come in,’ Lou says, beckoning me across. ‘It’s all over.’

I walk to the basket and find Suzy looking tired but content with five miniature Suzys wriggling underneath her, all vying with each other to get to their mother’s teats first and latch on for the longest drink of milk.

‘They’re so tiny,’ I say, unable to take my eyes off them. ‘It must have happened very quickly.’

Lou glances at the clock on her mantelpiece. ‘You were gone over two hours,’ she says. ‘That’s plenty of time, and Suzy did really well.’ She reaches out to stroke her, and Suzy, too exhausted to do anything else, simply closes her eyes to acknowledge Lou’s touch. ‘Is Basil OK?’ Lou asks.

‘Yes, he’s fine. He was no trouble at all. We went to the shop.’

Both Lou and Jake look at me in surprise.

‘He wanted to,’ I tell them. ‘He was scratching at the door.’

‘And what happened?’ Jake asks.

‘We went in,’ I reply cautiously. ‘And… sat for a while. He seemed to like being in there.’

‘Poor Basil,’ Lou says. ‘I think he still misses Rose.’

‘I think so too,’ I agree.

Lou and Jake exchange a look.

‘What?’ I ask. ‘What’s wrong?’

Lou stands up. ‘The thing is, Poppy, now that Suzy has had her pups I’m not sure I’ll be able to cope with looking after them and two fully grown dogs, and since you got on so well with Basil today…’

‘Oh no,’ I say quickly when I see where this is heading. I hold up my hand and back away. ‘No way, I have the shop to run, and…’ I search desperately for something else, but realise that I don’t have anything else to worry about.

‘Me caring for Basil was only supposed to be temporary,’ Lou pleads. ‘He’s an old dog, Poppy, he doesn’t take too much looking after – he sleeps most of the time. Besides, he’d so enjoy being back in the shop.’

Jake stands up and gathers up a small bundle of towel.

‘While you and Poppy are discussing this, I’ll do that thing…’ he says, taking a wide berth around me, deliberately keeping the bundle of towel where I can’t see it.

‘What thing? What’s he doing?’ I ask as he leaves the room.

‘It’s nothing, Poppy.’ Lou, visibly distressed, glances at Suzy then lowers her voice. ‘One of the pups didn’t make it,’ she says, and her lip begins to tremble. ‘Jake and me, we tried so hard to resuscitate him, to give him a chance but…’ She shakes her head and begins to sob.

‘Oh, Lou.’ I look at Suzy and she raises her head for a moment away from her new pups and looks with distress at Lou, her ears down. Then she looks at me as if to say, ‘I can’t do anything at the moment, you’ll have to do my usual job of comforting my owner.’

I take a deep breath and, feeling very much out of my comfort zone, I put my arm around Lou.

‘I’m sure you did your best, Lou,’ I tell her, sort of half-patting, half-hugging her. ‘Suzy knows that. And look –’ I gesture towards the basket – ‘Suzy has five healthy puppies to thank you for, as does Basil.’

Lou sniffs and reaches into the pocket of her apron for a tissue. ‘I know, but he was just so tiny and helpless – the runt of the litter. We tried to save him, but Mother Nature had other ideas.’

‘Why don’t you sit down,’ I say, leading her back over to the sofa, next to Suzy and her pups, so she can see the positive results of her efforts and not dwell on the negative. ‘Where’s Jake taking him?’ I ask delicately, not wanting to upset her. ‘The pup?’

‘Aw, bless him – he’s a good boy. He’s having a look in my shed to see if he can find a small wooden box to bury the little fella in.’

I swallow hard. This whole situation is suddenly affecting me in ways I hadn’t expected it to.

‘I’ll go and see if he’s OK, and while I’m there I’ll put the kettle on. You look like you could do with a nice cup of tea.’

‘Oh, that would be lovely, dear.’ Lou sits back on the sofa and sighs. She looks almost as tired as Suzy as she sits and gazes contentedly at the puppies. ‘Then we can discuss Basil…’

I go back through to the kitchen, find the kettle, fill it, then put it on to boil.

Looking out of the kitchen window I see Jake with a spade, digging a hole under a tree in Lou’s back garden.

He must have found a box then…

I stand at the window for a few seconds, then I take a deep breath and head out into the garden.

‘Hi,’ I say, as I approach.

Jake jumps, and immediately stands in front of a small wooden box on the grass next to him.

‘It’s OK, I know about…’ I nod at the box.

‘Oh…’ Jake looks down at it too. ‘Yeah, real shame. We tried…’

‘Yes, Lou said. She’s quite upset.’

Jake nods, then he looks up at the tree and I see him take a deep breath. Was he reliving his own pain, as I was mine?

‘You can carry on,’ I say hurriedly. ‘I just wanted to make sure you were… well, you know?’

Jake looks at me. ‘I was what?’

I kick at a leaf. ‘You know, OK… after what’s happened.’ I glance at the box again.

‘Yeah, I’m OK. Are you?’

‘Yes,
I’m
fine. Why wouldn’t I be?’

Jake shrugs. ‘Death is never easy to deal with, whatever form it takes.’ He looks down at the box. ‘Human, animal, it makes little difference if you loved what’s now lost to you for ever.’

I remain silent. I desperately want to tell him I know exactly what he means. I know exactly what that pain feels like. But I can’t. That ability has been buried too deep inside me to ever resurface.

I’m aware Jake is watching me. Waiting for a response. Still I don’t speak.

‘So, what about all this responsibility you’ve been asked to take on lately?’ Jake asks lightly, lifting his spade to resume digging. He’s obviously decided I’m a cold-hearted bitch with no feelings. ‘We all know responsibility isn’t your
thing
.’

‘What responsibility?’ I ask, playing along, hoping he doesn’t really think that, but at the same time pleased he’s changed the subject.

‘First there was the flower shop, and now a dog…’

‘Basil?’ Basil wakes up at his name, and lifts his head. ‘Basil?’ I whisper this time. ‘I haven’t said I’ll take him yet.’

‘But you will.’ Jake adds another shovelful of earth to the pile beside the hole.

‘How do you know?’

Jake ceases digging, throws the spade into the soil, then wipes a few drops of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. ‘Because,’ he says, turning to face me, ‘underneath all that hard black armour you wear to protect yourself, there’s a heart that beats strong and fast. And it’s not just any old heart, Poppy; it’s a beautiful, kind and giving heart. Just like Rose’s was.’

While I’m still looking at him, surprised once more by his beautiful way with words, he lifts up the wooden box and places it in the hole he’s just dug.

‘Life stinks, Poppy,’ he says, as we both look down into the hole together. ‘We both know that. Some of us get a good crack at it, some of us, sadly, don’t.’

I’m about to agree, then I stop myself. As comfortable as I feel with Jake, he doesn’t know the truth…

Oblivious to my hesitation, Jake continues: ‘But whatever life throws at you, however bad it is, eventually you realise that
your
life has to go on. Otherwise,’ he looks down into the hole again, ‘what’s the alternative?’

It doesn’t always move on, I think. Sometimes it’s easier to remain caught in a time you felt happy. A time before the never-ending sadness began.