by Clare Lydon
“Your phone’s ringing,” Jess said.
“I know. It’s my mum.” The phone’s cry was still piercing the lounge air.
Jess raised an eyebrow.
Kate sighed. She’d have to answer it now. She picked up her Samsung and swiped her finger across the screen.
“Hi, Mum.”
“Hi, love,” her mum replied.
Kate’s breathing stilled. “What’s wrong?” She remembered the same tone from when her mum had called nearly five years ago, to tell her Dad had died in a car crash. Sometimes, that day five years ago seemed like it happened to someone else entirely. But sometimes, like now, it seemed like yesterday. Kate sat forward and dropped her head between her knees. If her mum had some terminal illness, she might vomit onto her grey carpet.
“It’s Uncle Mike,” her mum said. “He’s… He’s dead.”
Uncle Mike. Kate knew it was wrong, but relief flooded her body. Her mum and sister were fine. But Uncle Mike was not. Kate tried to remember what Uncle Mike looked like, but the image was hazy. His smell wasn’t, though — tobacco and motor oil. Uncle Mike liked smoking and cars. Well, he used to, anyway.
“God, that’s awful. How?”
“Heart attack. At work today.” Her mum let out a small sob. “It’s so awful. Can you come over?”
Kate was already on her feet. “Course. Let me get changed and I’ll jump on my bike.”
Her mum sucked in a breath. “Can’t you get the tube? You know I don’t like you riding your bike in the dark.”
Kate smiled. “It’s fine, Mum — I have lights and everything.”
“Just for me, not tonight.”
Kate relented. “Okay. Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“We’ll get something from that nice Indian you like. I’ll pick up some wine and we’ll toast Uncle Mike. Should be there by 8pm.” Kate paused. “Have you told Vicky yet?”
“She’s going to answerphone.”
A likely story. “I’ll call her on the way. See you in a bit — go make a cup of tea.”
“Okay, love. See you soon.”
Kate hung up and marched down the hallway, pausing in the kitchen doorway. She pulled at the bottom of her black denim shirt and leaned her head against the white door frame.
Jess was making ribs for dinner and the flat was filled with the smells of roasted meat and sharp, smoky spices. She was wearing a blue apron with white pinstripes — a classic, cheffy look. Before Jess had begun working in a café over a year ago, she’d been allergic to cooking. Now, you couldn’t get her out of the kitchen. Not that Kate was complaining.
“Everything okay?” Jess slotted an earthenware dish into the hot oven and shut the door, before casting a wary glance towards Kate.
Kate shook her head. “I’m going to have to bail on dinner — my uncle just died, so I’m going over to Mum’s.”
Jess covered her mouth. “Shit — how’s Maureen?”
Kate shrugged. “A bit shaken.”
Jess cocked her head. “Hang on, you’ve got an uncle? I met your Aunty Viv at the wedding, but I never knew there was an uncle.”
Jess’s brother Jack had married Kate’s sister Vicky nearly six years ago, so Jess had met most of Kate’s extended family at big occasions and summer barbecues.
Kate smiled. “That’s because he wasn’t at the wedding. Or at the christenings of our two gorgeous nephews. Let’s just say Mike wasn’t really a family man. For all I know, he could be gay or have a few love children scattered around the country. But he was still my mum’s big brother.”
Jess leaned against the counter-top, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “So duty calls,” she said. “Shame, as these ribs are looking delicious.”
“They don’t smell too bad either.” Kate pushed herself off the kitchen door frame. “Maybe you should call Lucy and tell her you’ve cooked her a special treat.”
Jess shook her head and folded her arms across her chest. “My gorgeous girlfriend is out on the tiles tonight, so this is just for me. I’ll save you some for tomorrow night.”
“It’s a date.” Kate kissed Jess’s cheek before heading to her bedroom to grab her jacket.
“Give Maureen a hug from me!” Jess shouted after her.
***
Two hours later, Kate was sitting on the sofa at her mum’s house in Finchley, chicken bhuna eaten, glass of Malbec in hand.
“It’s weird to think you can just drop dead at any minute, isn’t it?”
“I’m hoping you won’t,” Maureen replied. Her mum was normally a ball of energy, but she was understandably subdued tonight.
Kate smiled and ran her hand through her short, platinum-blonde hair. “You know what I mean. One minute you’re here, the next minute you’re not.”
Her mum nodded. “I think we learned that the hard way five years ago, didn’t we?” She paused. “I wish I’d seen your uncle more, but you know what he was like.” Maureen twisted her wedding ring as she always did at times of stress. “Anyway, will you be able to help with some of the arrangements? Viv’s coming tomorrow to sort the funeral, but could you sort the flowers? There’s a place down the road that’s reasonable.”
“Sure — just give me the details.”
“Thanks, love.”
The doorbell interrupted their conversation and Kate got up. She opened the front door to her sister Vicky, car keys dangling off her right index finger, her face drawn with tiredness. She stepped into the house and gave Kate a hug.
“How is she?” Vicky shrugged off her blazer and threw it down on the bottom of the stairs.
“She’s okay — I’ve calmed her down with wine.”
“Good plan.”
They walked back through to the lounge, before Kate disappeared to the kitchen to make Vicky a cup of tea. When they were all resettled, the memories of being in exactly the same position five years previously came flooding back.
“It’s strange how it never leaves you, never goes away,” Maureen said. Despite the food and wine, she was still pale and drawn. “You’re doing okay, but then something like this happens and it knocks you back.”
Vicky leaned over and hugged their mum, while Kate took a sip of her wine.
“But you haven’t gone back, Mum,” Kate said. “You’ve got on with your life, and you’re doing really well. And we’ll deal with this together, as a family, just like before. Right?” Kate directed the last bit at Vicky, who nodded.
“Absolutely. All of us together — the intrepid threesome. Just let me know what I can do and I’ll do it.” Vicky nodded her head again with defiance.
Maureen took each of her daughter’s hands in hers and squeezed tight. “I don’t know what I’d do without my lovely girls, I really don’t.” She shook her head and her lip trembled.
Kate and Vicky squeezed right back.
4
The next day Kate was late into work, but she knew it wouldn’t be a big deal. The magazine was in the first week of its four-week schedule, which meant her day would be light on work, heavy on personal chores — which now included funeral flower arrangements. Kate had no idea what that might involve, but she wasn’t looking forward to it — visions of Six Feet Under floated through her mind.
She sat down at her desk near a window overlooking the Thames, taking in the open-plan floor which housed six magazines in total. Laughter floated through the rows of desks and occasional pot plant, and someone was playing old-school Eurythmics. The mood was light this morning, with the September sunshine ensuring everyone was embracing the last dregs of summer.
Kate had worked in magazines for the past eight years and she loved her job. She’d previously worked on titles involving food, horses and cars, before moving onto Female Health & Fitness a year ago, following Dawn from their previous foodie magazine, Scrumptious. When Dawn had announced she was leaving to launch a fitness magazine, she’d convinced Kate to come with her — and Kate was glad she had. Their publisher Ben called them the dream team, whi
ch they both loved.
Kate had learned a whole lot about how to stay fit and healthy during her time on the magazine, and she tried to follow its advice as much as she could. The women she stared at on its pages seemed to glow with health and vitality, probably through eating salmon and blueberries all day, and drinking only spring water. Well, that and the aid of Photoshop — it was amazing what their touch-up artists could do these days.
“Morning, sunshine.” Her editor Dawn sat on the edge of Kate’s desk and grinned at her. Dawn was dressed for the season in a yellow sundress and thin cardigan.
“Morning — how are you?” Kate stretched her arms over her head and let out an audible yawn.
Where Kate was blonde, tall and lithe, Dawn was dark-haired and pint-sized, but still slim. Kate doubted Dawn would have got the job if she was overweight — the magazine had an image to keep up, after all. But what the readers didn’t know was that while Dawn looked virtuously healthy, she actually survived on a diet of Kit Kats, coffee and the occasional sausage baguette with extra ketchup.
“I’m good — very good in fact. I was ovulating last night, so it was a long night for Nick and I, if you catch my drift.” Dawn winked at Kate.
Kate stuck her tongue out and made a gagging sound. “Not before I’ve had my first coffee, please.”
Dawn shook her head. “You’re so heterophobic.”
“Before my first coffee, I’m everyone-phobic.”
Kate got up and walked towards the kitchen, with Dawn following close behind. She pressed the cappuccino button on the enormous coffee machine and watched a plastic cup the colour of tan tights fall into place.
“How about you — how was your night? Wasn’t Jess cooking up some fabulous meal?”
Kate shook her head. “That was the plan. But then my uncle dropped dead, so I had to go round to my mum’s instead.” The coffee machine stopped whirring and Kate took a sip. She recoiled as the liquid burned her tongue, a daily routine.
“I’m so sorry!” Dawn’s face creased with concern. “Were you close?”
Kate waved a dismissive hand. “Last time I saw him was about ten years ago, so not really. But I might have to leave early to arrange flowers, just to warn you.”
Dawn nodded. “Of course, whatever you need. Is your mum okay?”
“She’s coping. Her sister’s there today so they’re doing the coffin, funeral and all of that.” Kate paused. “So well done you, having a night of sex.” She pointed her finger at Dawn. “We could all die any time, you know.”
Dawn smiled. “That’s what I like about you — your cheery disposition.” She wagged a finger back in Kate’s direction. “We’ve got to get you a night of sex before you die too, that’s my mission.”
Kate nearly spat out her mouthful of still-too-hot coffee as they walked back to their desks. “I hope I have sex again before I die. It’s been nine months already and that seems like a lifetime.”
Dawn grinned as she sat in her seat and pulled out her desk drawer. Inside were four two-finger Kit Kats and a Penguin. She selected a Kit Kat and picked up her tea.
“I’m going to take a picture and tweet you having breakfast one of these days.” Kate swung round in her chair.
Dawn grinned. “I’d just say it was for a dare, then send a follow-up tweet of me holding a banana and a stick of celery.” She paused. “Are we having a meeting this morning?” Dawn looked around the office but only half the staff were in — features editor Hannah and deputy art editor Henry were missing in action.
“Henry’s at the dentist. Root canal,” Kate said, pre-empting Dawn’s question.
“And Hannah?”
Kate gave Dawn a wide grin. “She had a date last night, so I couldn’t possibly say.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “What it is to be young and free.”
***
That morning, Kate’s mum called with the details of her favoured florist — Maureen was insistent because Barbara down the road had used them for her husband’s funeral and the flowers had been beautiful. Neither of them mentioned they could have just used the florist they used for Dad, but Kate imagined Mum didn’t want to be reminded of that dreadful day.
Kate clicked on the Fabulous Flowers website — tastefully done, with pastel colours and flowing fonts. Whoever was in charge of this particular florist knew about design. It was one of Kate’s bugbears — bad colours and fonts, especially on the web. Having been trained in print design, seeing so many rules flaunted online broke her heart daily.
She checked their opening hours — till 7pm. It was 2pm now, but the art department had nothing in their in-tray and her deputy Henry had his legs propped up on his desk, reading a copy of their sister magazine, Male Health & Fitness. Kate tapped the top of the magazine.
Henry duly lowered it. “Yes?” His dark beard was a little out of control, but Henry also possessed killer green eyes which made women swoon.
“I’m going to bugger off early — you think you can handle the rush?”
Henry swept his eyes around the half-empty office and nodded slowly. “I think so, although keep your phone on and I’ll call if there’s an emergency.” He paused, before raising his voice. “Like if Daisy gets the letters page over to me that was due this morning.”
Across the office, staff writer Daisy didn’t even raise her head, but simply extended a middle finger in Henry’s direction.
“Great.” Kate patted Henry’s leg, shrugged on her jacket and slotted her phone and wallet into her grey canvas bag. “Can you tell Dawn I’ve gone when she gets back too?”
Henry saluted her. “Consider it done.”
5
Kate arrived in front of Fabulous Flowers just after 4pm. Like their website, the shop was tastefully designed with impressively modern signage in soothing green and an inviting window display. Maureen had just called to ask if Kate had organised the flowers yet, and Kate had told her she was on her way. She forgave her mum for being a little overbearing seeing as she was dealing with a family death — but seriously, she’d agreed to do this less than 24 hours ago.
Kate pushed the door and heard the bell as her senses were overwhelmed by a wave of fresh floral scents. Colours and vibrancy jumped out at her from every angle, with familiar flowers and the more exotic jostling for attention. The floor on either side was taken up with chrome buckets stuffed with blooms, and every other available surface — wooden crates, stands and boxes — was overtaken too. Far from being chaotic, though, the overall effect was an artful, sensory overload.
On a wooden stand against the wall to her left were sheets of tissue paper in cool shades, and the large, retro counter straight ahead held multi-coloured ribbon and string, along with a cash register, phone and thick appointment book.
Even though she was a graphic designer, Kate had never really been drawn to flowers as an art form. However, this shop showed it could be done and she was impressed.
“Mum, I know that wasn’t how you did it back in the day, but this is how I do it now, so you’re going to have to trust me.”
The conversation was out of sight but Kate could hear every word. Rich, smooth voice and the unmistakable hint of an adult child being peeved with her parent. Kate could well sympathise.
“Yes they wanted them for every table.” Pause. “I know, but it’s their wedding. Look, I have to go, someone’s in the shop. Let’s talk about this tomorrow.” Pause. “Yes I know, we’ll talk tomorrow. Bye.”
Kate turned briskly and focused her attention on a bucket of delicate pink flowers. She had no idea what they were, but she was certain they’d be a winning choice if your favourite colour was shocking pink. Which hers wasn’t. But Barbie would love them.
Kate heard footsteps come into the shop, a sigh and she looked up. But she was not prepared for the sight that greeted her. Standing behind the counter was a woman around her age with short hair the colour of sunshine, deep, greenish-blue eyes and miles of tanned skin running down her neck. She gave Kate a grandstand s
mile as their eyes met, and Kate stopped breathing for a second. Perhaps two. How had she never stepped into this florist before today? She’d passed by it often enough on the way to her mum’s house.
“Hi,” Kate managed. She was impressed her words sounded level, normal. Her words did not give away the fact her heart was thumping, her ears flushed, her buttocks clenched. No, Kate was fairly sure these were facts only she knew. Her brain instructed her legs to move forward and thankfully, her legs obliged.
“How can I help?”
Kate’s mind was blank. The only thoughts whizzing round her head had nothing to do with her uncle’s funeral. Kate forced herself to focus.
“It’s my uncle — he died.” Kate winced. That was not a slick opening sentence.
“Oh my goodness,” the woman said. “I’m so sorry. Would you like a seat? A cup of tea?”
“I’m fine, really.” Kate batted the offer away with her hand. “We weren’t close.” Did that sound like she was a heartless wench? She ploughed on.
“But my mum’s asked me to organise the flowers, so here I am.” Kate paused. Her throat was dry. She needed liquid. “But now I come to think about it, that’s all the instructions she gave me. Do you have a set thing you do for funerals?” Kate looked at the florist, baffled. “Because the only other person who’s died in my life is my dad and I didn’t do his flowers. My sister did. She did all the arranging really, she was great. Just took charge. I was a bit shell-shocked, like my mum.” Oh. My. God. Why couldn’t she shut up?
Kate wished she’d remembered to take her cool pills this morning.
Clearly though, the florist was used to it — she didn’t look alarmed. “I can well imagine.” Her eyes radiated kindness and sympathy. “Wait there,” she said, and disappeared into the back of the shop.
Did Kate have time to check her appearance in her phone camera? She put her hand in her bag, but before she could grab her phone, the florist reappeared, this time carrying two chairs. She arranged them around the corner of the counter and motioned for Kate to sit down.
