I sat upright, heart thumping, as a flash of lightning lit my bedroom. ‘Uncle Alan?’ I whispered. Thunder crashed. I shivered and dived under the covers clutching my teddy bear, Mr Pink, reminding myself that I was thirty-years-old, not thirteen. I needed to think positive thoughts. I needed to picture him alive instead. I needed to focus on the routine. At 10 a.m. every Sunday, I’d announce my arrival through the letterbox, let myself in and head for the lounge where I’d find him reclining in his favourite chair, dunking a plain digestive in milky tea. With a life controlled by diabetes, that plain digestive was his one weekly treat. A strawberry milkshake and a packet of chocolate digestives would be waiting for me. I admired his restraint at never succumbing to the chocolate ones himself. He joked that he did but made sure he ate a whole packet before my next visit so I’d never know any had gone. We’d have our drinks while I told him about my week at school and what I’d been doing at Girl Guides then I’d help him with the crossword. I say help but I certainly wasn’t the brains of the partnership; my reading saved him the faff of putting on his glasses and my writing spared the arthritic aches in his hands. His body may have let him down but his mind was sharp with a million facts and details.
Another flash of lightning lit the room and, with it, a vision of Uncle Alan flashed into my mind — the lightning revealing the swollen face, the marbled yellowy-grey skin, the soiled trousers — and I shuddered. I wished I hadn’t been the one who found him that day. But if I hadn’t, it would have been Mum, Dad or Ben and I wouldn’t have wished the gruesome discovery on any of them either. If only I could erase that image from my mind and picture him instead as the grump with a heart that I knew him to be, big frown but twinkly grey eyes. He’d often grumbled that my Sunday visits were a nuisance and I should just deliver his paper and leave. The milkshakes and chocolate digestives told the truth though, as did the tears in his eyes each time I hugged him goodbye.
I blinked back my own tears that came so easily every time I thought of him. I should have visited more often. Once a week wasn’t enough. He needed me. He had nobody else. I wiped at a rogue tear and admonished myself. I was young. I did my best. And he appreciated it.
Cowering under the duvet, my mind flitted between the day I’d found Uncle Alan and my current predicament with Jason.
When the storm finally subsided at dawn, I’d only reached one conclusion: I didn’t want to be alone all weekend. The only close friend I had in London was Clare and she was at a big PR event for one of her clients in Birmingham, which meant that home — the seaside town of Whitsborough Bay in North Yorkshire — was the place to run. Unfortunately I’d picked up an answer phone message from Mum to say that Dad had whisked her to Paris for the weekend and she hoped Jason had planned an equally romantic weekend for my birthday (oh, the irony) so I couldn’t turn to my parents. Hopefully Elise and Auntie Kay hadn’t left the country too.
I threw some clothes into a backpack and caught the first train out of Kings Cross.
Chapter 3
I took one final deep gulp of fresh seaside air, then pushed open the door to Flowers; a florist’s that Auntie Kay had opened twenty-five years earlier. The little bell tinkled joyously. I’ve always loved that sound; so welcoming and so intrinsically associated with home.
‘Sarah! What are you doing here?’ Auntie Kay gently put down the bridal bouquet she was arranging, then wiped her hands on her apron as she rushed out from behind the counter.
‘Surprise!’
She launched herself at me. As I hugged her tightly, the floodgates (which had surprisingly stayed closed the night before) burst open.
‘Sweetheart, what is it? What’s happened?’
‘Jason,’ I whispered.
‘Is he okay?’
‘It’s over.’
‘Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry.’
The shop bell tinkled. Keeping my back to the door in case it was anyone I knew, I released Auntie Kay and rummaged in my bag for a tissue.
‘Morning, Mrs Bates,’ she said. ‘Cathy will be with you in a moment. Cathy!’
Cathy, who I swear is Dawn French’s twin sister separated at birth, appeared through the arch from the back of the shop. ‘Sarah! Kay didn’t say–’
‘Sarah’s paid us a surprise visit,’ Auntie Kay interrupted. ‘But we just need a chat in The Outback. Can you see to Mrs Bates?’
‘Of course.’ Cathy, who’d obviously spotted the tears, gave me a sympathetic look and lightly patted my arm as she bustled past.
Auntie Kay bundled me into The Outback — the name Ben and I had given to the office/storage/kitchen area behind the shop after Auntie Kay’s fondness for saying, ‘I’m just going out back to make a cuppa’ — and sat me down on her battered leather desk chair. She perched on the desk and waited while I composed myself.
‘Sorry about that,’ I said. ‘I thought I was fine but maybe saying it aloud made me realise it was real.’ And that I’m alone. Again. Like Uncle Alan.
‘Who ended it?’
‘Me.’
‘Can I ask why?’
‘You can, but maybe over tea later, assuming it’s okay to stay at Smuggler’s View.’
‘Of course it is. There’s always a bed for you there. I’m listening now though…’
‘Thanks, but it’s a Saturday so you’ll be busy.’ Feeling much calmer, I gave my eyes another wipe and pushed some stray curls behind my ears. ‘You’ve got a wedding today?’
‘It can wait. You know I’ve always got time for my favourite niece.’
‘I’m your only niece.’
‘I’m sure you’d still be my favourite even if there were a dozen. Tell me everything.’
‘I really appreciate it, but you have a bridal party waiting for you. I wouldn’t have disturbed you but apparently Mum and Dad are in Paris for the weekend.’
‘Ah yes. The romantic break. Your dad surprised her with the tickets yesterday. Apparently it’s thirty-five years since he proposed.’
I sighed. ‘Alright for some. Jason never whisks — whisked — me away on romantic weekends.’
‘Then it’s probably just as well you’ve ditched him. It’s time to find someone who will.’
I shook my head. ‘Maybe not just yet. I think I need to find me again first.’ Even though that meant being alone for a while. Panic started to well and I repeated my mantra. Alone as in single… but not lonely! I have friends. Alone as in single… I stood up and took a deep breath. ‘How about you get back to your bouquet, I’ll make us all a drink and then I can give you a hand with the flowers?’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’
‘I’m sure. I’ll enjoy it.’
‘Your help would be a godsend,’ she said. ‘There should have been four of us in, but Wendy’s at a funeral and Gemma has been neither use nor ornament all morning. She says gastric flu. I say hangover. I sent her home on a final warning so we’re way behind. Bridesmaid’s bouquets or buttonholes?’
‘Buttonholes please. I’ve not slept so I don’t think I’m awake enough to do justice to the bouquets.’
As if sensing my crisis of confidence, Auntie Kay said, ‘You are, and always have been, the most naturally talented florist I’ve ever had the pleasure to train and you’ve got the qualifications to prove it. You could make those bouquets in your sleep with your hands tied behind your back. But I’ll let you off seeing as you’ve had a traumatic birthday. You can start on the buttonholes, but if it gets busy I’ll need to promote you. And I need all the details about Jason while you work. I can’t wait till teatime.’
‘Tell me again why you don’t work here.’ Auntie Kay picked up one of the bridesmaid’s bouquets. The shop had become very busy so I’d had to give myself a bit of a pep talk about how many bouquets I’d made in the past and how I’d never messed any of them up so why would I bodge things now. Three adult bridesmaid’s bouquets,
two children’s posies and eight buttonholes later, I had to admit that they were quite fabulous. ‘Sarah, these are absolutely stunning. Those classes in that London have certainly been worth the money.’
It made me laugh when she referred to my home as ‘that London’ in the same tone of disgust she might use to describe ‘that sexually transmitted infection’. She’d only visited me there once and I was left in no doubt that she thought it was one time too many. I’d never quite sussed whether it was specifically ‘that London’ that she hated or the fact that I lived there instead of at home.
‘I haven’t done bouquets in a while,’ I said. ‘I’m quite pleased.’
‘You should be. You say you’ve been to your flower club more often over the last year…?’
I nodded. ‘Great Jason-avoiding activity.’
‘Well, it’s paid dividends. Hey, Cathy, come and look.’
Cathy ambled over. ‘Sarah, they’re gorgeous. You know what you should do?’
‘No. What?’
‘You should move back home and work for your Auntie.’
I smiled. ‘Did you two rehearse that?’
‘I’ve no idea what you mean.’ Auntie Kay looked at me all wide-eyed and innocent. ‘But it’s a good idea. Are you sure you don’t want to?’
‘Yes, Auntie Kay. I’m sure. Because—’
‘I know, I know…’ She winked at Cathy. ‘Because floristry is just a hobby even though you’re twice as talented as most professional florists I know. Because you don’t live here anymore. Because you love that London. Because your job’s there. Because Jason doesn’t want to move.’ She paused then added dramatically, ‘Although Jason’s out the picture now, so…’
‘Auntie Kay! This isn’t my home anymore. I moved away twelve years ago.’
‘And you could move back just as easily. I’d even brave another trip to help you pack your stuff. Cathy could hold the fort here, couldn’t you Cathy?’
‘Piece of cake,’ Cathy said. ‘Just name the date.’
‘Stop it you two.’ I put my hands over my ears and started humming until Auntie Kay made a zipping action across her mouth, lightly slapped her wrist and mouthed ‘sorry’.
‘I should think so too.’ I took my hands off my ears.
‘You’ll change your mind about moving back here soon.’
‘I doubt it. Thanks for the effort, though. I’d probably be offended if you didn’t keep trying to convince me to stay. I’d think you didn’t want me any more.’
‘Come here you.’ She hugged me again. ‘I’ll always want my favourite niece around.’
‘Am I interrupting something?’
I hadn’t heard the bell above the door tinkle so the male voice startled me. I looked round to see a man in a navy morning suit. Ooh. Morning suit. Yummy. He looked to be in his early-thirties and was about six feet tall with thick dark hair, which he wore slightly spiky at the top.
‘Nick!’ Auntie Kay gave him a kiss on each cheek. ‘Goodness me, you scrub up well. Let’s have a look at you.’
‘Thank you.’ Nick did a slightly awkward twirl. ‘I think you’re being generous, though. Don’t most people look good in one of these things?’
In my opinion, yes they do, but Nick looked extra fine in his. My stomach did an unexpected flip as he looked towards me and smiled. For a fleeting moment, I was oblivious to anything except him and those blue eyes that twinkled like the ocean on a sunny day.
‘You don’t think I look like a blue penguin?’ he asked, still holding my gaze.
No. Just a gorgeous hunk of loveliness. Whoa! Get a grip, Sarah! The guy’s about to get married. Look away. Now!
Thankfully Auntie Kay spoke and Nick broke our gaze. ‘Don’t put yourself down. Some men look ridiculous in one and I’ve seen hundreds of them in this business. It really suits you. You’re looking very handsome.’
She turned to me. Oh no. Don’t you dare!
She dared. ‘Isn’t he, Sarah? Isn’t he looking incredibly handsome?’
My cheeks burned. ‘Yes stranger-who-I’ve never met, you look very “handsome” as my auntie puts it.’
Nick laughed, put out his hand and shook mine enthusiastically. ‘Auntie? Then you must be Kay’s niece, Sarah. I’ve heard loads about you. I’m Nick. Nick Derbyshire.’
‘Hi Nick.’ I reluctantly let go of his hand.
‘Are you nervous, Nick?’ Auntie Kay asked.
‘Terrified. Especially about the speech. I wish I didn’t have to speak first.’
‘The groom doesn’t speak first,’ I blurted out. ‘The Father of the Bride does.’
Nick smiled proudly. ‘I am the Father of the Bride.’
‘But… but you can’t be much older than me.’
‘I’m thirty two.’
‘Then you must have had your daughter very young.’
Auntie Kay laughed. ‘He hasn’t got kids. It’s his sister’s wedding.’
I frowned. ‘But…’
‘Our dad died when I was ten and Callie was two,’ Nick said. ‘I’ve been the father figure as well as her big brother so she asked me to give her away.’
‘Oh, that’s so lovely. I’m sorry about your dad, though.’
‘Thank you. He’d have been very proud of Callie today.’ He turned to Auntie Kay. ‘Are the flowers ready?’
‘Let me show you.’ She led Nick to a large table behind the counter. ‘Sarah did most of them,’ she gushed, turning round and grinning at me. ‘She’s so talented. Aren’t they gorgeous?’
My cheeks burned again. Could she be more obvious?
Nick turned and smiled at me. ‘Very gorgeous.’ There was something in the way he looked at me that made me think he wasn’t talking about the flowers. He couldn’t mean me… could he? I’m far from gorgeous. I’m fat. My hair’s a mess. My eyes are red and… no, he definitely means the flowers. I’m being silly. Hallucinating due to lack of sleep!
The bell tinkled and a younger man in a matching suit poked his head round the door. ‘Sorry, Nick. I’m on double yellows,’ he said.
‘Okay, best get going then.’ Nick handed a box to the man then grabbed the other.
Auntie Kay pulled the door wide open for them both. ‘Send my love to Callie,’ she said. ‘Tell her I want to see the photos. Good luck with the speech. They say you should picture your audience naked. Helps with the nerves.’
‘Not a pleasant thought. You haven’t seen my Uncle Clive.’ He screwed up his face and shuddered. ‘I can’t dislodge that vision now. I may be traumatised for life. And on that note… thanks again for these, Kay.’ He turned back and gave me a big smile. ‘It was lovely to meet you at last, Sarah. You’re exactly how I imagined. Hope our paths cross again.’
I smiled and waved, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. Calm down, Sarah. You’re only having a reaction to him because you’re now single and it’s allowed. You’re bound to be attracted to the first good-looking guy who does you the courtesy of speaking to you. Especially when he’s wearing a morning suit and has eyes the colour of the ocean and… stop it!
Auntie Kay closed the door and made her way back to the counter. ‘Such a lovely young man,’ she said.
‘He seemed pleasant enough.’ I tried to sound nonchalant. I’m not sure if I pulled it off.
‘He is. Very pleasant. Very lovely. You remember Alma Sutton who lived next-door to me when you were little?’
‘Granny Sutton?’
Auntie Kay nodded. ‘She was Nick’s grandma.’
‘Small world.’
‘He’s such a sensitive young man, too. He comes in every year on New Year’s Eve to pick up three bouquets of white roses and three loose stems. On New Year’s Day, he puts a bouquet on the graves of his grandma, granddad and dad and he throws the single ones into the sea off Lighthouse Point to remember each of th
em.’
‘That’s very sweet and thoughtful of him.’
‘You thought he was the groom, didn’t you? He’s single you know.’
‘Isn’t he a bit young for you, Auntie Kay?’
‘I don’t mean for me.’
‘I know exactly what you mean and I’m choosing to ignore it. I’ve already told you I’m not ready for dating and, even if I was, someone who lives four hours away wouldn’t be top of my list.’
‘You could move back home,’ she said.
‘I think I’d need a slightly stronger reason to move back home than you trying to play cupid.’ I sighed and shook my head.
Auntie Kay didn’t retort. Instead, she fiddled with my Grandma’s engagement ring, twirling it round and round on her finger. I narrowed my eyes at her. ‘Are you okay?’
She stopped twiddling and took a deep breath. ‘It’s time.’
‘For what?’ My stomach flipped but not in the nice way caused by Nick earlier, in more of a foreboding way.
‘I was going to give you a call tonight to discuss this so it’s amazing timing that you’re here in person instead.’
‘You’re making me nervous.’ My stomach lurched as thoughts of terminal illnesses swam round my mind.
‘Just give me a minute.’ She disappeared into The Outback and returned a few moments later clutching a bright red ring binder, which she handed to me.
‘What’s this?’
‘You said it would take a slightly stronger reason for you to move home than a bit of match-making. Well, I’ve got one. You know how I always said you’d inherit Flowers when I’m gone and Ben would get Smuggler’s View?’
‘Yes. And I always told you not to be so morbid.’ Oh God! She is ill! No!
She twiddled with her ring again. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to leave the business to you in my will. I want to give it to you now.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve had an unexpected opportunity to travel the world with my friend Linda and I’ve decided to take it. I want to retire and I want you to become the new owner of Flowers. Pretty much immediately.’
Searching for Steven (Whitsborough Bay Trilogy Book 1) Page 3
