The Little Flower Shop by the Sea (31 page)

The rest of the shops in Harbour Street didn’t sell the sort of items we did; they were either practical, everyday shops that sold food, newspapers or stationery, or they went for the traditional seaside wares: buckets and spades, ice creams, sun cream and beach towels. Apart from Belle with her studio, no one else dared to do anything differently. It was a shame because Harbour Street and St Felix had so much potential. The few empty shops at the higher end of the street could be filled with so many things other than another charity shop, which I had been afraid we’d get if things didn’t pick up. But with the town a lot busier now, I had high hopes that new businesses might eventually be attracted back into St Felix.

So this morning as Basil and I walk up Primrose Hill to our meeting with Bronte, I’m in a buoyant mood even though I’m slightly concerned about visiting Jake’s house. I’ve come during working hours in the hope he’ll be busy in the nursery, but he lives on the same land he grows his flowers on, so I’m crossing my fingers I won’t have to see him, or too many of his flowers. I’ve been a lot better around flowers lately, but even so I don’t want to chance being exposed to so many of them – that might be taking things too far.

Basil and I arrive at the nursery and walk through a gate and up a long path leading to a pleasant-looking farmhouse, and as I ring the bell and stand back to wait, Basil immediately lies down to rest while I take a quick look around me.

I can see a few polytunnels, lots of greenhouses and some fields spread out at the back and sides of the house, and I can’t help but shudder at the thought of all the flowers that might be lurking in there – hundreds of the things, all condensed into one place…

I’m hoping that Jake isn’t home. Not because Bronte and I need to discuss his birthday party; I’ve already had several secret meetings with Bronte and Charlie in the back room of Daisy Chain, and our plans for a party at Trecarlan are coming along a treat. No, the reason I don’t want to see Jake today is because I’m afraid he’ll suggest a trip to see his flower empire. Although, the way Jake has been with me lately, it seems highly unlikely.

Jake’s changed since Ash and I got together. He no longer pops into the shop at lunchtime, and he never asks me to join him for a quick drink at the Mermaid after work. As much as I like Ash, this distance Jake has put between us saddens me greatly. I don’t want to gain a boyfriend and lose a good friend, but that’s what seems to have happened.

‘Hey, Poppy. Hey, Basil,’ Bronte says, opening the door. ‘Come in.’

We follow Bronte into a tidy hall with pictures hung neatly on the walls, and then through to a spotless kitchen where she has laid her jewellery out on a large scrubbed wooden table for me to see.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ she asks. ‘Coffee or tea?’

I get the feeling that the usually confident Bronte is nervous.

‘What are you drinking?’ I ask, looking at a can on the side.

‘Diet Pepsi,’ she says. ‘Would you like that?’

‘Yeah, that would be great.’

Bronte gets me a can, and Basil a bowl of water, then we sit and examine her jewellery, talking about how she makes it, where she gets her inspiration from, and what sort of things she could make for the shop.

‘Are you sure people will want to buy my jewellery?’ she asks. ‘It’s just a hobby.’

‘Do you ever make jewellery for your friends?’

‘Sure, that’s all they ever want for birthday and Christmas gifts.’

‘And do they wear it?’

‘Yes, all the time.’

‘There you go then. That’s all I need.’

‘This is amazing!’ she says. ‘I can’t believe my jewellery is going to be in a real shop.’

‘Is your dad OK with all this?’ I ask, wondering if Jake is here.

‘Dad, yeah, he’s cool. He was the one who encouraged me to keep making my stuff when I thought about giving up.’ She pauses, then confides: ‘Mum and me used to do all these kinds of things together before she died. She was very arty – Dad says that’s where I get it from.’

I nod.

‘I mean, we didn’t make jewellery like this – I was only ten when it happened. I think we used to make bead necklaces though, and I remember us painting and drawing together.’ She screws up her face. ‘It’s hard sometimes to remember. Does that sound awful, Poppy?’

I shake my head. ‘No, I know what you mean; as time goes by our memories become slightly hazy. Doesn’t mean you love your mum any less though. It just means new experiences are taking up the space that’s allotted in your head for memories.’

‘I like that,’ Bronte says, nodding slowly. ‘It makes sense. Like a flash drive that’s full and there’s only so much space on it. My memory flash stick is so full I need to remove some data from it to allow new stuff to be uploaded.’

‘Yes.’ I smile at her. ‘Something like that.’

‘Hey, Dad,’ Bronte says, looking towards the kitchen door. ‘You’re back already! Poppy is here checking out my jewellery for her shop.’

Jake pauses in the doorway and smiles at us, then walks into the kitchen. Miley jumps from his shoulder, and immediately goes to the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter.

I wonder how much of what I was just saying Jake heard.

‘Just one, Miley,’ Jake instructs the monkey, who is already unpeeling a banana with great dexterity. ‘I hope she’s offering you a good price for it, Bronte,’ Jake comments as he heads towards the kettle.

‘I certainly am,’ I reply. ‘I think Bronte’s jewellery will go down a storm.’

‘She’s a very talented lady is my Bronte,’ Jake says, winking at her. ‘Tea?’ he offers, looking at me.

‘I’m fine, thanks.’ I lift my can.

‘Do you want to take the bits you like right away, Poppy?’ Bronte asks. ‘I’ve a box upstairs I can put them in for you.’

‘That would be great, thank you.’

Bronte heads for the stairs. ‘Back in a mo.’

Jake turns and leans against the kitchen counter while he waits for the kettle to boil. It feels a bit awkward for us to be on our own like this; it hasn’t happened for what seems like ages.

‘She’s over the moon you’ve shown an interest,’ Jake says, and noticing a snoozing Basil he comes over and crouches down to fuss him. ‘She keeps talking about going to art college when she’s old enough.’

‘She’d do very well at it,’ I tell him. ‘She has talent.’

‘Just need to sort out what Charlie is going to do now. He has one more year of A-levels then it’s uni time for him, but he still doesn’t know what he wants to do.’

‘Charlie is very different to Bronte, but I’m sure he’ll find his way. I bet you’ll miss them when they go to college.’

Jake stands up from where he’s been fussing Basil and heads towards the boiling kettle.

‘Truth is, Poppy,’ he says with his back to me as he puts a tea bag in his mug and pours boiling water over it, ‘I don’t know what I’ll do here without them. The place will seem deserted.’

I wait for Jake to continue but he doesn’t, he just stands very still gazing out of the kitchen window. Miley, sitting next to me on the table, looks up at Jake, then she leaps across the kitchen units and offers him the rest of her banana.

‘Of course I’ll still have you, you little monster,’ he says stroking Miley’s head. ‘No, you keep the banana, thank you.’

Miley turns from Jake and looks at me, and I’m sure I see her shrug.

I get up and go over to the counter where Jake is making the tea. This seems to jolt him into action; he grabs the milk and sloshes far too much into his mug.

‘Damn,’ he says under his breath.

‘Don’t you like it milky then?’ I ask, smiling.

He turns to me and I see his eyes are misty.

‘Oh, Jake,’ I say, putting my hand over his as it rests on the kitchen worktop. ‘When it happens – and like you said, there’s another year to go before Charlie leaves for uni, if that’s what he decides to do – it will be OK, I’m sure it will.’

Jake looks down at my hand, but he doesn’t attempt to move his own.

‘How do you know it will?’ he asks. ‘It was bad enough when I lost Felicity – at least I had the children for company. This time it will be just me when they’re gone.’

‘But you have your friends in St Felix, and you have Lou.’ I know this sounds weak.

‘Yes, I know, and I’m grateful for them, of course, but sometimes…’ He struggles for the right words. ‘When it’s just you, on your own, and you close the door on the world outside, it can be very lonely to have only your memories for company. I felt like that every night when I lost Felicity.’

I know exactly what he means, and I want to tell him I know, but I can’t, it just won’t come out, so I squeeze his hand instead.

Jake looks up at me. ‘Poppy, I —’

‘Couldn’t find the box!’ Bronte announces from the door, marching back into the kitchen. She stops and stares at Jake and me, apparently holding hands by the sink. We immediately pull away from each other, and Bronte, her head down, carries on as if she’s not seen anything. ‘It was under my bed of all places,’ she says, rapidly placing the items of jewellery into a decorated shoebox.

‘This is fab,’ I tell her, hurrying over to the table. ‘If I pay you for these now,’ I reach for my bag, and pull out my purse, ‘then you can make some more, like we discussed – yes?’

‘Sure,’ Bronte says quickly. She glances at Jake then at me. ‘That would be great.’

I pay Bronte and gather up the box of jewellery, still annoyed with myself that Bronte had seen the two of us like that. ‘I was wondering, Bronte,’ I ask, as a thought suddenly comes to me, ‘if you’d be interested in a part-time job at the shop?’

Bronte stares at me. ‘Really? You want me to work at Daisy Chain?’

‘If you’d like to. We’re a lot busier these days, and I’m sure Amber would be happier spending less time in the shop and more in the back room creating her bouquets and arrangements. What do you think?’

‘Definitely!’ Bronte says, her eyes shining. ‘I’d love to. Is that OK, Dad?’ she asks, looking at Jake.

‘Of course.’ Jake looks at me. ‘Thank you, Poppy,’ he says, and our eyes meet again.

I quickly look away. ‘Well, I’d better be getting off. Pop in and see me at the shop soon, Bronte, and we’ll discuss it further. Right, where’s that dog of mine?’

We all look around for Basil, who up until a few moments ago had been snoozing peacefully under the table.

‘And where’s Miley?’ Jake asks.

We all rush out into the hall to find Basil wandering around in a slow circle with Miley riding on his back holding on to his collar.

‘Oh, Basil,’ I say, grinning at him. ‘What is she doing to you?’

‘Training him to ride in the Grand National by the looks of it,’ Bronte says, and we all laugh.

‘Would you like to see where all your flowers come from while you’re here?’ Jake asks hopefully. ‘You did say you’d like a tour sometime.’

Oh lord, I couldn’t say no after the way Jake was a few minutes ago. Plus it was lovely to have Jake talking to me again; I’d missed him. ‘Sure,’ I reply, my words catching in my throat. ‘Why not?’

Bronte remains at the house while Jake walks Basil, Miley and a very hesitant me up to his nursery. It’s much larger than I’d thought it would be: there are about a dozen greenhouses lined up along one side of the land, some fields of rich dark soil with a few polytunnels, and two of Jake’s four staff. He introduces me to Gemma and Christian, who are busy trundling wheelbarrows full of compost over to one of the greenhouses so they can begin filling pots with new seedlings. Then we walk over to another greenhouse and Jake holds the door open.

‘B-but what about Basil and Miley,’ I say, looking over my shoulder. Basil is walking along sniffing the ground like a bloodhound, and Miley is trying to imitate her idol.

‘They’ll be fine,’ Jake says, gesturing for me to go inside. ‘We’ll only be a minute.’

I take a deep breath and step inside a greenhouse full of brightly coloured flowers.

‘This is the batch that will go out tomorrow,’ Jake says proudly. ‘To your shop, and the many more I supply around the area. Some will go up to Covent Garden tonight, for the market tomorrow.’

‘Really?’ I ask, trying to breathe without taking in too much of the smell, which is extremely hard to do. The scent of the flowers in here is overpoweringly sweet.

‘Yes, these are my flowers at their very best.’ He steps away from the door, further into the greenhouse. ‘These beauties are in peak condition – come see.’

I have no choice but to step further into the greenhouse. Either side of me on great long tables are more flowers than our little shop could hold ten times over. I can see carnations, chrysanthemums, lilies – I try not to look any further down the greenhouse for fear of spotting a rose.

‘How do you get them just right?’ I ask, avoiding looking at the flowers too much, by concentrating hard on Jake. ‘Don’t some go to waste if they’re past their best?’

‘No, we keep the glasshouses at different temperatures – colder to hold them back from blossoming too early, and warmer if we need to bring them on a bit faster.’

‘What temperature is this one?’ I ask, as Jake moves closer to me. Today he’s wearing blue jeans, tan Timberland boots, and my favourite of his many checked shirts. It opens just far enough to allow me a glimpse of the beginnings of his sandy-coloured chest hair. Swiftly I look up at his face as I realise where I’m gazing.