Watching Willow Watts (32 page)

‘
Are you all right
?’ Paula asked. The two had just returned to Willow’s house after her father’s great send-off. The whole village had turned out to watch him heave his battered suitcase onto the National Express bus to Heathrow. Willow had wanted to go all the way to the airport to say goodbye, but he’d insisted it would be too hard. So she’d joined the crowds, given him one last hug, and waved until the belching bus was out of sight.

‘
I guess so,’ Willow answered, trying to figure out how she did feel. It had all happened so fast she could barely believe her father
had really left; that he wouldn’t pop his head around from the shop and ask what was for dinner. Even with Paula by her side and Krusty quietly crooning in the back garden, the house felt empty.

‘
It’s just so strange with him gone.’ Willow motioned Paula into the kitchen and poured her a glass of wine. It was still early, but Paula was never one to refuse a drink and right now, Willow needed something stronger than tea.

‘
I can imagine.
’ Paula sipped her wine. ‘So what have you decided about the shop, then?’

‘
Well . . .’ Ever
since Dad had mentioned taking over the whole space, images and memories she’d buried for the past two years had sprung to life: how she’d arrange her special pots so the flowers would cascade down the walls; the collection of ribbons she’d bought from the haberdashery at Liberty’s through the years, just to tie around flowers’ stems; the apron she’d seen one day in Cath Kidston, dotted with vibrant colours and just perfect for a florist. God, where had she put all that stuff? She’d need to have a rummage around in the cellar to see if she could find it.

‘
Flowers?’ Paula poked her arm
and Willow nodded. ‘How could it be anything else, knowing you?’

Willow
’s grin grew bigger to match the expanding balloon of hope inside.
This
was it: exactly what she wanted. Not fame. Not fortune. Just beautiful flowers, without any added finery, standing proudly on their own.

Two weeks later,
Willow was standing knee-deep in blossoms and the scent of lilies, gladioli and greenery hung heavily in the air. Lifting her head from a bucket filling with water, she couldn’t help smiling as she took in the room. Every inch – every surface – was covered in flowers exploding with colour.

‘
I got the s
ign!’ Paula shattered the calm of the shop, staggering in under the weight of a package in her arms. She unwrapped it slowly and turned it toward Willow. ‘What do you think?’

Willow caught her breath. ‘It’s perfect,’ she said, and it was: the gold curlicue lettering spelled out
Willow’s Blossoms
, carved into polished oak. It was exactly as she’d imagined.

‘
It’s fab
, isn’t it? I’ll go pinch Mr Jordan’s ladder so we can put it up.’ Paula scanned the room. ‘Looks great in here, by the way. You’ll be more than ready for the grand opening tomorrow.’ She threw her arms around Willow, pulling her in for a hug. ‘I’m super impressed, Wills. Look at all you’ve managed to do. So fast, too!’

Willow nodded, her eyes filling with happy tears. She
had
accomplished a lot since her father left: putting the antique stock up for auction, transforming the shop space into something suitable for a florist, dealing with suppliers . . . and finally sending off that cheque to Her Majesty, clearing the debt for good! It was all enough to make her head spin, and she was amazed at what she could do – and how efficiently – if she put her mind to it. Dad really would be proud. Mum, too.

A now-familiar pang
jolted through her as she thought of her father. God, she missed him. She’d talked to him often to make sure he really was all right with her changing the premises. Opening the flower shop was such a permanent step, and she wanted to make sure he’d meant his suggestion of expansion – and that he was getting on well with Betts, too. Willow had never heard her father happier. He’d even been christened an ‘honorary Georgian’, whatever that entailed.

So. Here she was. Taking
charge of her life and her dreams, once again.

There was a bang at the door, and Willow
looked up to see Paula with the ladder. Finally, the moment her father’s shop would become her own. Outside, Willow hefted the heavy sign into her arms, then carefully climbed the ladder. She manoeuvred it onto the metal hooks protruding from the shop front and leaned back, making sure it was on securely.

‘
How does it look?’ she asked Paula, who was watching from below.

Paula shaded her eyes and glanced up. ‘Brilliant. Come here and see!’

Willow scampered down the ladder then looked up at the sign. Paula was right: it
was
brilliant, and it looked like it had always hung there. Through the sparkling window, the shop was bright and welcoming. It was everything she’d envisioned, and more.

‘
Hey, where’s your apron?’ Paula grinned. ‘Go put it on. I want to get a picture of you under the sign.’ She dug
out a mobile from her pocket and started angling it toward Willow.

‘
Just a sec.
’ Willow pushed through the shop door and rummaged under the counter where she’d put her box of treasures. After combing through mouldy packages in the cellar, she’d finally managed to unearth it. Opening the cardboard flaps, part of her still couldn’t believe she was actually going to use all the things she’d set aside for ‘one day’.

As Willow
shook out the apron, something metallic fell from the folds, clanking across the wooden floor. What was that? Bending over, her eyes fell on a small, pewter placard. Her fingers closed around it, heart beating fast.

‘
Welcome to Willow’s,’ she read aloud, running her fingertips over the delicately engraved letters entwined with Disa orchids. A small chain looped around the top and Willow remembered Alex holding it up proudly, a tender expression on his face as he explained it had been specially crafted for her. Tears filled her eyes as she stared down at the placard in her hands. He’d been such a big part of this dream, believing in her from the first time she’d hesitantly told him.

‘
I’m waiting!’ Pau
la burst into the shop, face falling as she clocked Willow’s expression. ‘Wills, what’s wrong?’

Willow showed her the placard. ‘I just found this. Alex had it made for me, way back when.’ She sighed. ‘I know it’s been ages and he’s with someone else now, but . . . I don’t know. I really wish I could share this with him.’ She thought again of his laughing demand that he’d better be the first customer she served, complete with a giant bouquet of Disas.

‘
Well,
nothing’s stopping you,’ Paula said. She rolled her eyes as Willow started to protest that actually, there
was
something stopping her, something by the name of Claire. ‘Look, you don’t know they’re together for sure, do you? And say what you like about nostalgia, but I don’t think he’d take you out to dinner and talk about the past if he didn’t still feel something. He doesn’t seem like the kind of bloke to play games.’

A tiny ball of hope tumbled
through Willow. Could Paula be right?

‘
And you were the one who suggested breaking up,’ Paula said, warming to her argument. ‘For God’s sake, Willow, if you care that much about the man, bloody well tell him already!’

Willow tilted her head, thoughts racing. Perhaps Paula was right – and her father, too. Maybe, just maybe, if two people truly loved each other, it
was
that simple.

Sure
, Alex might be with someone now – no matter what Paula thought, all the signs seemed to point that way. He might very well listen to what she had to say, and push her away. But Willow wasn’t going to sit back and keep quiet. She was going to follow her heart . . . straight to Alex.

‘
I’m heading
to London,’ Willow said, every inch of her filling with determination. ‘And I’m going to tell Alex how I really feel.’

Thank God
!’ Paula nodded with approval. ‘So what are you going to say?’

Willow met her friend’s gaze. ‘Just that I still love him. That’s all. It’s not going to change what happened between us, but I need him to know.’

‘
Well, in that case, you’d better hit the road!’ Paula fumbled in her pocket and handed Willow her car keys. ‘Here. The faster you get there, the better. I reckon he’s been waiting a long time to hear it.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

THE SCENT OF DISAS filled the small car as Willow hurtled down the motorway toward London. She’d never driven in the city and she should be anxious, but her hands were cold and clammy at the thought of what she was about to do, not the traffic. Compared to telling Alex how she felt, navigating roundabouts was the least of her worries.

T
his time, she wasn’t going to back down. Now, she was going to go for what she wanted, the same way she’d grabbed the chance for the flower shop. If there was one thing she’d learnt from this Marilyn fiasco, it was that if something was important, you had to fight for it. There was no point hiding behind disguises or excuses.

Putting together Alex’s bouquet had used up each and every Disa she’d ordered for the opening tomorrow, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when she told him about her new flower shop. But would he give her back the flowers; remember what he’d said about returning the Disas to the woman he loved? Every little bit of her hoped he would, but even if he didn’t . . . well, at least she’d tried.

Willow
steered the car through the low, grey London suburbs, down the traffic-clogged Marylebone Road, through Bloomsbury and finally, into the heart of the City. Spotting an empty space near her destination, she manoeuvred the car into it and got out, slotting some coins into the meter with shaking fingers. Alex’s building was just a few steps away.

Shoving
the passenger seat forward, she gingerly removed the Disas from the back. The bouquet was enormous, and she nearly collided with City workers rushing out for lunch.

Inside the building, Willow went up the lift and strode over
to the same receptionist from the last time she’d been here in all her Marilyn glory. The woman didn’t show any sign of recognition, not that it was surprising. With her face scrubbed free from make-up and her dirt-stained trousers, Willow couldn’t look more different if she tried.

‘
Can I help you?’ the blonde asked. ‘Who’s the delivery for?’

‘
Delivery?’ Willow repeated, before realising that, given her current appearance, she probably resembled a tradesman. Maybe she should have taken the time to change. But Alex wouldn’t care, she told herself, remembering his cheeky grin when he said she looked best with nothing on.

‘
Alex Fielding.’ Willow’s heart pounded just saying the words.

‘
Do you have something I need to sign?’ The receptionist reached out to take the flowers, but Willow tightened her grip.

‘
No!’ she said. ‘I mean, I have instructions to deliver them personally.’

‘
Fine. I’ll see if Alex is around.’ The woman clicked on her keyboard for a moment, and Willow felt like she was about to pass out. ‘Sorry, you’re out of luck,’ the receptionist said finally. ‘He’s off site at the moment.

‘
Off site?’ Surely he couldn’t be holidaying again already.

‘
Yup.’ The receptionist clacked away. ‘But actually, you can walk there from here. He’s at St Dunstan’s Gardens. Just go out, turn left on Mincing Lane and keep walking. You’ll see the gardens off the side of the road – about a five minute walk, max.’

‘
Thanks.’ Willow turned as quickly as the Disas would allow and followed the directions, hurrying down Mincing Lane and across a busy street until she came to a patch of green on her right. This must be it – in amongst the tightly packed buildings of the old city, it was like an unexpected oasis. She climbed a few stairs and pushed through a gate, letting the greenery calm her spirits. A few office workers lounged here and there with their lunches, and quiet chatter and laughter floated through the air.

But where
was Alex? Willow walked down a pathway toward what looked to be the ruins of an old church. Maybe he was in there, doing some kind of restoration work? She stopped as she reached a circular area dotted with benches, and scanned the space in front of her. Just a few metres ahead, a man was busily examining an old stone wall. And by the set of his shoulders and the fluid way he was moving, she knew without even seeing his face it was Alex.

Her breath caught in her throat and her pulse whooshed in her ears. Now was the time to face the man she loved and open her heart to him, no matter how he chose to respond. Forcing her trembling lips into a smile, Willow took a few tentative steps forward.

Oh! Instinctively, Willow jerked the flowers in front of her face when a woman appeared around the other side of the wall, laying a hand on Alex’s arm and laughing at something he said.
Claire
. Sneaking a peek around the bouquet, Willow swore silently as she spotted Claire approaching. The sharp click of high heels on the stone walkway got louder and louder as the woman drew closer, and Willow froze. What the hell was she going to say?
Don’t mind me, I’m just here to give your boyfriend flowers?