The Little Flower Shop by the Sea (35 page)

‘Not if I follow the path down. I’ll be fine.’

‘There’s a path?’

‘Yeah, look to your left.’

I do as he says and in the moonlight I can just make out a set of rough steps leading up from the beach, a bit like the ones that had led down to the viewing ledge.

‘No, I’ll come to you,’ I say. If Jake comes down here we might both get stuck, and there’s no way out through the locked cellar.

‘OK, but be careful,’ Jake calls with concern. ‘It’s quite steep.’

Slowly I make my way up the rocky steps as best I can in the silver pumps.

Jake reaches out a hand for me to take as I get close to him, and as his fingers close around mine I finally feel safe.

‘OK?’ he asks, as I climb the last few steps to stand facing him, still holding his hand.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I feel very secure now.’

Jake looks down at our hands, still entwined, but he doesn’t let go.

‘How did you know this place was here?’ I ask, content for us to stay in this position.

‘Charlie told me about it. I often come here to sit when I need to think. I don’t know how he found it though, it’s quite tucked away.’

‘He told me about it too.’ I decide it’s best if Jake doesn’t know the real reason Charlie discovered the ledge. ‘It’s beautiful here, isn’t it? Very peaceful. You feel as though nothing else matters in the world when you sit here looking out at the never-ending sea.’

Jake looks at me. ‘That’s very poetic of you, Miss Carmichael.’

‘Well, I try,’ I say, winking at him.

‘So how did you get down on that beach if you didn’t know about the path, but you knew about the ledge?’ Jake asks. ‘That doesn’t add up.’

‘I think we’d better sit down, Jake, it’s a long story…’

While we sit on the little ledge together looking out at a perfect view of moonlit sea and twinkling stars, I tell Jake the whole story. Why I was on the beach, why I’d been in the cellar, and what I’d been looking for.

‘But who would lock you in?’ Jake asks, mystified.

‘I have no idea. Perhaps someone saw the door unlocked and thought they’d better secure it?’

‘Maybe,’ Jake says, still thinking. ‘So if the picture and letter
aren’t
in the cellar, then where are they?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps Stan got it wrong. He’s getting old, his memory isn’t what it used to be.’

‘But from what you’ve told me, he seems pretty compos mentis. I doubt he’d have got something like that wrong – the pictures seem to mean a lot to him.’

‘Yes, you’re probably right. I’ll ask him next time I see him. Now,’ I say tapping my hand on his thigh. ‘It’s
your
turn to tell me why you’re AWOL from your party! A party which,’ I glance at my watch, ‘we had better return to. People will be wondering where the birthday boy is!’

‘Yes, I know.’ Jake turns his gaze to my hand, which is still resting on his thigh, so I hurriedly retrieve it. ‘We’d best be getting back.’ He starts to stand up, but I prevent him by grabbing his hand. ‘Ah-ah, you’re not getting away with it that easily, mister! I told you my story, what about yours?’

Jake sits down again.

‘I just needed some air, that’s all,’ he says, not sounding very convincing. ‘I’d had quite a bit to drink, I needed to sober up.’

‘You came all the way down here to do that? Why not just take a stroll in the castle grounds?’

‘OK, OK,’ he sighs. ‘If you want the truth, I needed breathing space. Some time to think.’

‘At your own birthday party?’

He nods. ‘It’s special times like this that make me think of Felicity even more. Whether it’s my birthday, the children’s birthdays, anniversaries – you know the kind of thing.’

I nod.

‘But tonight seemed different somehow. It struck me the most when I was dancing with Belle.’

Oh great. I could tell where this was going…

‘What did?’ I hardly dare ask. Please don’t tell me you felt guilty because you want a relationship with her.

‘I felt guilty.’

Here we go
…
I brace myself for the inevitable.

‘Guilty, that I’d behaved badly towards you, Poppy.’

Oh!
I prick up my ears.

‘You see, the thing is, I like you – I like you a lot.’

But
…
There will be a but, I know it!

‘But, it’s been so difficult for me, having these sorts of feeling for someone after all this time. I haven’t felt like this since Felicity. She was the only one I ever felt this way about. I never thought it would happen again. In fact I told myself it wouldn’t.’

I squeeze Jake’s hand.

‘And then you were so lovely the day you kissed me. So understanding when I said I couldn’t. I wondered if it might ruin our friendship, but it hasn’t, has it?’

I shake my head.

‘And then I nearly kissed you that day in my greenhouse, but sensibly you made a hasty exit. I was being stupid; I’d left it too late. You’d already found someone else.’

I had?

‘Ash is a good guy, Poppy. Much younger than me, of course, much more suitable for you. I’m pleased you’ve found someone. Really I am.’

But
…
 

But this time there is no but.

‘We’ll still continue being friends though, won’t we?’

I find myself nodding.

‘Good. As long as I have that then, I’m happy. Right,’ Jake says standing up, pulling me with him. ‘I feel much better now. Time to return to the fold, my public awaits!’

As I climb the narrow steps from the ledge, then walk back up the short path to the castle making polite chitchat with Jake, my mind is buzzing with recrimination.

Did I let that just happen? Did Jake tell me he had feelings for me, and I didn’t respond… I didn’t tell him I felt exactly the same way?

Had Jake gallantly stood back to allow Ash to continue being my suitor, in the type of chivalrous gesture you might have expected to see at Trecarlan hundreds of years ago?

As I walk back inside the castle with Jake, part of me wishes he hadn’t been so gallant, that instead he’d challenged Ash to a duel at dawn for the hand of the fair Lady Poppy.

It had never been like this when I was a child. When I played at being a princess at Trecarlan, I always rode off with my handsome prince at the end of the day.

The next day is a Sunday, but the shop still opens for business at midday.

It’s my turn to be on duty with Bronte, which is usually a lot of fun. I’ve been getting on really well with her since she started working at the shop, and I enjoy hearing all about her latest teenage exploits.

I’m out back making a cup of coffee when I hear the shop door open. ‘Hi, Bronte!’ I call.

Disappearing from the party for a long time last night meant I hadn’t had time to drink too much alcohol, so I’d been spared the hangover that many St Felix residents would have woken up with this morning.

But after a particularly rough night’s sleep – where I dreamt I’d been locked in a high tower like Rapunzel, and Jake and Ash, wearing huge silver suits of armour, had jousted on horseback, and the results hadn’t been too pretty – a shot or two of caffeine is going to be needed if I’m to get through the next few hours.

‘Howdy,’ Bronte calls, coming into the back room. ‘How are you today?’

‘Good, thanks. You?’

‘Yeah, I’m OK.’ Bronte hangs her bag on the peg behind the door. ‘Did you enjoy the party?’

Jake and I had returned to the party after our talk and attempted to sneak in quietly in the hope no one had noticed we’d been gone.

Except people had.

Jake had immediately been interrogated by his children. And I’d been questioned by Amber, and then Ash.

Amber hadn’t been too bad; I’d explained as quickly as I could what had happened and where I’d been, and as usual she’d taken it all on board with no drama. Ash, however, had not.

‘You’ve been where?’ he’d asked, astonished. ‘And with who?’

I try to explain again, except I was leaving out the part about the cellar. Ash was too close to Babs and Trecarlan to tell him the truth about the pictures yet.

‘And you expect me to believe that? You spend getting on for two hours away from this party, and part of that time you just
happened
to bump into Jake who just
happened
to be outside too? What do you take me for, Poppy, a fool?’

‘No, of course not,’ I’d protested.

‘What were you really up to, hmm? I know you and Jake are friends – but is that friends with benefits now?’

‘Stop it, Ash,’ I’d pleaded. ‘It wasn’t like that.’ I’d tried to placate him, suggesting that we go back to the cottage, sleep it off and then talk about it in the morning.

‘Na-ah!’ he said, pulling away as I gently tried to take hold of his arm. ‘I gotta get outta here and think for a bit. On my own.’

‘Ash!’ I called to his disappearing figure, as he strode towards the door of Trecarlan.

‘Later, Poppy!’ he called with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘Much later.’

‘Yes, it was good,’ I lie now. ‘Coffee?’ I offer.

‘Nah, I had a Red Bull on the way up here, thanks. What ya looking at?’ Bronte asks, seeing me staring at the embroidered picture of the purple rose I’d propped up on the side this morning.

‘Oh, it’s nothing really. Just something that was found here under the floorboards of the shop. It belonged to my grandmother.’

Bronte comes over. ‘May I?’ she asks, lifting the picture. ‘Hmm… that’s cool.’

‘Is it?’ I say, surprised she likes it. ‘I didn’t think it would be your sort of thing.’

I wander back into the shop, and Bronte follows me.

‘It isn’t. But I think we have something very similar hanging up on our landing at home.’

‘You do?’

‘Yeah, it’s not the same flower, ours is pink – a carnation, I reckon. But it looks just like this one, same embroidery, same initials stitched into the petals of the flower.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, definitely. It was Mum’s, I think. We had to pack a load of stuff up recently, ’cos Dad is going to decorate. I packed it into a box with the other pictures that were hanging on that wall.’

‘So where is it now?’ I ask, wondering how on earth the picture had ended up on Jake’s wall. Had Felicity bought it somewhere?

‘I guess it’s in one of the boxes of stuff stacked in the shed. I’ll ring Dad and see if he can take a look. He should be up by this time, but I think he’ll be nursing a pretty bad hangover. The party went on pretty late after you left with Ash. Did you know Ash took Charlie surfing this morning?’ Bronte asks as she hangs on her phone waiting for Jake to answer. ‘Charlie was well up for it when Ash called to tell him the surf was up.’

I’m pleased Ash had still taken Charlie out. After he’d stormed off, I was quite worried about him.

‘He’s not answering,’ Bronte says, pulling the phone away from her ear. ‘It’s going to voicemail. Told ya he was in a bad way last night! I’ll try again.’ But this time when she dials we hear the sound of a phone ringing outside the shop doorway.

‘Dad?’ Bronte jumps as Jake appears at the door. ‘I was just ringing you.’

‘I saw,’ Jake says, holding up his phone. ‘But I was close by, so I thought it would be easier to speak to you in person.’

Jake glances in my direction as he enters the shop properly.

‘Morning, Poppy, are you well?’

I nod hurriedly, still feeling a little awkward after Jake’s confession last night.

‘Dad!’ Bronte calls, trying to regain his attention.

‘Yes, my darling daughter,’ Jake says, rolling his eyes. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘You know those pictures that were at the top of the stairs? The ones I took down so you could decorate – they were Mum’s, right?’

Jake flinches slightly at the mention of Felicity. ‘Yes, some were. Why?’

‘’Cos Poppy has a picture just like one of them – look.’

Bronte hands Jake the embroidered picture.

‘If Bronte is right,’ I tell him, ‘it sounds as though you might have one of the missing pictures I was telling you about last night.’

‘You mean Stan’s pictures… which one?’

‘The pink carnation?’

Jake’s brow furrows. ‘Oh yes, I know the one you mean. I never thought anything of it when you were telling me last night. But seeing this –’ he holds up the picture of the purple rose – ‘I can see the resemblance. I think that picture belonged to Felicity’s mother. Felicity kept a number of her possessions when she died and we had to clear out her house. But why would Isabelle have had one of Stan’s pictures?’

‘Maybe she bought it somewhere?’

‘I don’t think so. For as long as I knew Felicity, her mum kept that picture in pride of place on her mantelpiece.’

A customer comes into the shop, so Bronte hurries over to serve them. I can see her still trying to listen to our conversation as she does.

‘Wait a minute, what did you say Felicity’s mother’s name was?’ I whisper, as something clicks in my mind.