The Little Flower Shop by the Sea (9 page)

Anthony opens the till again, puts back the change he was just about to give me, and retrieves my £10 note. Then he presses it into my hand.

‘Those are on the house,’ he says. ‘I should have known. Custard tarts were always Rose’s favourite too.’

‘Really?’ How had I forgotten?

He nods. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a hankie. He dabs it at his eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, turning away. ‘Seeing you here, and knowing you’re going to take over Rose’s wonderful shop. It’s just too much!’

Declan smiles at me.

‘Ant is always a bit overemotional,’ he explains. ‘I’m used to it.’

‘Oh!’ I exclaim, suddenly realising. ‘Your names! You’re Ant and Dec!’

Ant spins around, his sorrow now turned to joy. ‘I know, isn’t it cool? We used to hate it when we were first together and they were PJ and Duncan, but now they’re international celebrities it’s rather fabulous!’

‘They’re hardly international celebrities, sweetie,’ Declan says. ‘But it’s a good hook for the business.’ He looks up at the back of the shop, and I see an elaborately painted sign:

‘The customers love it,’ Declan continues. ‘And they never seem disappointed when it’s just me and Ant serving them.’

‘As well they shouldn’t,’ I say. ‘I’m sure the two of you are just as entertaining, if not more so.’

‘When do you think you’ll have the shop open again?’ Anthony asks. ‘The ladies of the Women’s Guild have been running it since your grandmother went into hospital, but their ways…’ He pulls a face. ‘Let’s just say they’re not quite up to your grandmother’s standards.’

‘Let’s be honest, no one could replicate Rose’s touch with a bloom,’ Declan says wistfully. ‘That was something extremely special to behold.’

They both exchange a knowing look.

What on earth did my grandmother do with flowers that was so wonderful? I remember people often leaving her shop incredibly happy, even crying on occasion, which had seemed odd to me at the time. But what was she doing with flowers to make them so special?
 

‘I’m not too sure when we’ll be open again,’ I tell them. ‘But luckily I do have someone to help me with the shop – a new florist, all the way from New York!’

‘Oh, how decadent!’ Anthony says. ‘I can’t wait to see what they do. Let’s just hope she… or is it a he?’

‘She.’

‘
She
can sprinkle some Manhattan magic into your grandmother’s shop. It’s sure been lacking it of late.’

They exchange another glance.

‘I’m sure we’ll both give it a good go,’ I assure them, wondering again what all these looks were about.

‘It’ll need more than that, sweetie,’ Declan says. ‘The way things have been here lately, it’ll need a miracle.’

Amber and I stand and look up at the outside of the shop.

It’s 9.30 a.m. and we’ve breakfasted on custard tarts and more tea, and even though I’d suggested Amber stay and try and get some more sleep, she insisted on coming with me to visit the shop this morning, so she could see just what she was letting herself in for.

‘It needs work,’ Amber says. ‘A lot of work.’

‘Yes, I know that,’ I say, taking a step back to get a better view. ‘But in what way? I mean, we can’t just give it a lick of paint, can we? I’ve a feeling it needs more than that.’

‘I could tell you about your mom’s shop, if you like?’ Amber suggests.

‘I know what it’s like; I’ve seen it when I’ve been over there.’

‘I don’t remember you visiting,’ says Amber. ‘Was I there?’

‘No, I don’t think so. It was some time ago.’

The truth was I’d visited years ago when Mum first opened the shop. It had seemed super exciting, Mum opening a florist in New York, and I’d jumped at the chance of a free trip over to the Big Apple. I’d had such a great time seeing the sights and living it up in the city that never sleeps, that I hadn’t taken much interest in Mum’s flower shop at all. I feel guilty now as I stand looking up at my grandmother’s old store, as though a piece of my history has died along with a member of my family.

‘Anyway,’ I try to sound bright, ‘I don’t want to emulate one of my family’s many flower shops from around the globe. If I’m going to do this – and believe me, Amber, this isn’t coming easy to me – I’m going to do it my way.’

‘Would you two youngsters move aside please, we’ve flowers to get into the shop.’

We both turn to find three ladies of varying ages and builds unloading flowers from a small white van.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say to the one fast approaching the shop door carrying a large pot of carnations. ‘The shop isn’t open today, and it won’t be for a while until it’s refitted.’

‘What?’ a middle-aged woman, who’s wearing a Barbour jacket and a paisley headscarf tied jauntily around her neck, demands. ‘Don’t talk nonsense. We only close on Sundays and Mondays. Stand aside at once.’

‘No.’ I step in front of her. ‘You can’t come in today, I’m afraid. As I just said, the shop
won’t
be opening.’

Amber barricades herself across the doorway, her arms outstretched in a dramatic fashion, so the sleeves of her brightly coloured blouse billow like sails across the frame.

The woman regards Amber and then me as if we’re minor irritations she could do without.

She sighs. ‘Beryl, Willow!’ she calls to the women offloading the van. ‘Do you know anything about this?’

Beryl and Willow poke their heads around the side of the van.

‘These
girls
,’
she says with disdain, ‘won’t let us into the shop.’

Beryl, a well-built older lady with grey curly hair, and Willow, a tall, slim girl of about twenty, put down the boxes of flowers they’re holding and stand side by side in front of the van, folding their arms across their chests.

The woman in the Barbour turns her head back to me. ‘I don’t know what you think you’re doing,’ she says in a low voice, ‘but I suggest you both move. Beryl, Willow and I have work to do. We don’t take kindly to being held up.’

I defiantly fold my own arms now, and stare hard into her face. Is this woman really spoiling for a fight here in the middle of St Felix? Goodness, things have changed!

Beryl and Willow begin to walk silently towards us.

As I steel myself against the women’s approach, I’ve never been so glad to hear the dulcet tones of the local constabulary asking: ‘Good morning, ladies. Can I be of any assistance here?’

Woody! Thank goodness.

‘Police Constable Woods, just the person,’ the Barbour-jacket woman says, smiling sweetly. ‘These girls won’t allow us access to the flower shop.’

As Woody looks at us, he jumps in surprise, firstly at seeing me again, and then at Amber barricading the door.

‘Is this true, ladies?’ he asks.

‘It sure is!’ Amber cries. ‘We will not, we will not be moved!’ she sings.

‘What my friend means, Woody,’ I say sweetly, ‘if you don’t mind me calling you that?’

He nods.

‘What Amber means is, I own this flower shop now and the shop will be closed until further notice.’

Woody looks back at Barbour-jacket woman. ‘Well, Harriet?’

‘What proof does she have?’ Harriet demands. ‘Aren’t you going to ask her that, PC Woods?’

Woody turns back to me. ‘She has a point.’

‘I have a key,’ I say, reaching into my pocket. ‘I think that’s proof enough.’

‘Well, I have a key right here too,’ Harriet says, holding up a key on a piece of rope.

Woody begins to look a bit panicky.

‘This was my grandmother’s shop. I’m Poppy, her granddaughter, and I’ve inherited it. You can ask Amber here, or Ant and Dec up the road, or Rita and Richie in the Merry Mermaid or —’

‘Or me.’

Jake.

Woody turns to see Jake and Miley standing on the opposite pavement watching the proceedings.

‘I can vouch for Poppy; her mother phoned me to say she’d be coming down to take over the shop a few days ago.’ He walks over towards us. ‘And as for you, Harriet, I’m surprised Caroline didn’t phone and tell you that you wouldn’t be needed today. She knew all about Poppy taking over the shop last night.’

I notice when Jake speaks to Harriet how coy she is with him to begin with, but then when he imparts the news about Caroline, she immediately begins to bristle.

‘Caroline knew?’ she demands. ‘Then why didn’t she say?’

‘Why do you think?’ Jake says with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘To cause trouble, as always. She likes to do that when she doesn’t get her own way.’

Harriet quickly evaluates the situation, working out how she can extricate herself without losing face.

‘If what you say is correct, and you, Poppy, are indeed the new owner of The Daisy Chain, then I must apologise to you.’ She holds out her hand to me, and I shake it. She nods firmly. ‘As you have heard, it is our president, Caroline, who is apparently to blame for this mix-up. Although I’m sure this is a complete oversight on Caroline’s part – she was very much involved with the shop to begin with, but lately she hasn’t had quite so much time…’

Jake coughs loudly.

‘… it is unforgivable,’ Harriet continues, after giving Jake a steely glare, ‘that the St Felix Women’s Guild should welcome you here to our town in this way. I do hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us.’

I nod, a little taken aback by her speech. ‘Yes, of course. Apology accepted.’

Woody, standing next to us watching all this, bursts into spontaneous applause, then hurriedly hides his hands behind his back and adopts the typical policeman’s stance while his cheeks flush bright red.

‘Can I just thank you all for looking after my grandmother’s shop while she was in hospital. It was very good of you.’ I turn and smile at Willow and Beryl. Willow beams back; Beryl sort of snarls something that might be a smile.

‘Not at all,’ Harriet replies for them. ‘Rose was thought of very highly here in St Felix, it was the least we could do. Any member of Rose’s family will always be welcome at our guild meetings. I do hope you might consider joining us, Poppy. We could do with some younger blood.’

Willow nods eagerly. From behind me I hear Jake chuckle.

‘I’ll think about it,’ I say politely.

‘Can I join too?’ Amber asks, stepping away from the door of the shop. ‘I’ve never been a member of a Women’s Guild. I don’t think we have them in the States – what is it? It sounds fun!’

While Amber discusses the benefits of the St Felix Women’s Guild with Willow and Harriet, I go over and talk to Jake and Woody.

‘Thank you,’ I say.

‘Not a problem, miss,’ Woody replies. ‘All in a day’s work.’

‘I meant Jake actually, for vouching for me like that.’

Jake grins smugly.

‘But if you hadn’t arrived when you did, Woody,’ I quickly add when he looks upset, ‘I don’t know what might have happened. It was starting to get a bit aggressive.’

Jake snorts now.

‘It was!’ I tell him. ‘You weren’t here. That Beryl woman looks quite vicious.’

‘Ah, Beryl’s harmless enough,’ Jake says. ‘She’s the verger at the local church, has been for years. Clarence would be lost without her.’

‘Clarence?’

‘Father Claybourne,’ Woody explains. ‘He’s our vicar. Lovely man; he was most helpful to me when I first came to St Felix. Poppy, you know I would have vouched for you if I’d known. You didn’t tell me who you were when we met yesterday.’

‘I know, I’m so sorry, Woody.’ I gently touch his arm and Woody’s face flushes again. I don’t know what it is about Woody. Unlike most women, I don’t go for men in uniform at all. But Woody was just so cute. Cute like a puppy: you wouldn’t want to make him sad or upset.

‘So, I’m gathering from all this hoo-ha this morning you really
have
decided to keep the shop,’ Jake says quickly, changing the subject. He looks up at The Daisy Chain. ‘I wondered last night if you might change your mind.’

‘No, of course I wouldn’t change my mind,’ I lie. ‘Why would I do that?’

Jake shrugs. ‘Just thought you might have rushed into your decision a bit, and then had second thoughts in the cold light of day.’

I shake my head. ‘Nope.’

‘Good, I’m pleased. So the question is, now you’ve decided to keep the old girl, what are you going to do with her?’

I liked how Jake referred to the shop like it was a person. ‘Run it as a flower shop, you’ll be pleased to know,’ I tell him. ‘I think I’d be lynched around here if I did anything else. Plus my mother has sent me Amber over from New York.’ We both look over at Amber. She’s got her eyes closed and is waving her hands rhythmically around Willow’s head, while Harriet and Beryl look on sceptically.

They’ve obviously moved on from discussing the Women’s Guild.

‘She’s supposed to be some hotshot florist over there.’

Amber suddenly clicks her fingers, snaps her eyes open, and pronounces Willow’s aura clean.

‘Time will tell, though,’ I add.