The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop

by Tracy Corbett

  David’s stare was no less intense, although it dared Patricia not to side with him. She was caught in the middle.

  It was a while before she found her voice. ‘Shouting isn’t getting us anywhere. We need to sit down and discuss the situation in a sensible manner, like the adults we all are.’

  ‘There’s nothing to discuss.’ David wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable. ‘She is not getting married.’

  ‘Yes, I am!’ As Amy had inherited her stubbornness from her father, Patricia thought David could hardly complain that his feisty daughter wasn’t backing down.

  ‘Both of you, please. This isn’t helping.’ She squeezed Amy’s hand. ‘Sit down, darling.’

  ‘I’m fine standing,’ David said.

  Instead of pointing out that he wasn’t the ‘darling’ she’d been referring to, Patricia led Amy over to the sofa. ‘This has rather come out of the blue, sweetheart. You can’t expect us not to react to such life-changing news or query your decision.’

  ‘But he’s not querying it, Mummy. He’s telling me no without even hearing my side of things.’

  ‘I don’t need to hear your side!’

  Patricia placed her palm gently against Amy’s cheek, ensuring she had her daughter’s attention. ‘I’m listening, sweetheart. Talk to me. Tell me your side of things.’

  Ignoring various interruptions from her dad, Amy raced through her and Ben’s plans for the future. ‘He adores me, Mummy. He has our whole lives planned out. We’ll marry in the summer, spend a year travelling, he’ll go off to film school and I’ll go to university. In four years’ time we’ll move to Hollywood where he’ll get a job working at one of the film studios and I’ll set up a dance company.’

  David advanced on the sofa. ‘Dancing is a hobby.’

  Amy glared at him. ‘It’s what I want to do. To become a famous choreographer and run my own dance company.’

  David laughed, a mean, hard sound. ‘You need to stop daydreaming and focus on your academic studies. Aim for a career in something useful, like teaching or nursing. Something that won’t waste your talents.’

  ‘My talent is for dancing. Something you’d be aware of if you’d taken any interest and come to watch me compete.’

  ‘Dancing is not a proper career.’ He banged his fist down on the back of the sofa. ‘And neither is film-making. How deluded are the pair of you? This is nonsense.’

  Amy returned to Patricia, ignoring her dad as if he’d never spoken. ‘In ten years’ time Ben will be directing films, I’ll be the successful owner of a chain of dance studios and we’ll be financially secure, with three kids, a dog, a convertible and living happily ever after.’

  David swore, something he rarely did. ‘Of all the idiotic, childish …’

  Patricia tuned out. She was torn. Her gut reaction was that eighteen was far too young to marry. She hadn’t been much older herself and look how things turned out. She didn’t want that for Amy.

  But her daughter was a different creature. She’d always been so mature for her age, a determined child who’d achieved everything she’d ever set out to do. Telling her not to do something would never work. David should realise that. After all, he was exactly the same. And who was to say Amy wouldn’t succeed just as predicted? If anyone could do it, her daughter could. But still, it didn’t alter the fact that getting married before you’d finished education wasn’t the best idea.

  Patricia needed to reason with her daughter, not dictate. ‘Weddings cost a lot of money, darling. Not to mention all this talk of travelling and living abroad after university. How are you planning to pay for all this?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter how they’re planning to pay for it, it’s not happening.’ David’s yelling made her jump. ‘Stop asking stupid questions and tell her to grow up.’

  Sadness and humiliation settled over Patricia, weighing her down. It was one thing to put up with David’s rudeness in private, but allowing him to be so dismissive in front of Amy was no example to set for her daughter.

  ‘Don’t speak to Mum like that.’ Amy stood up. ‘How dare you be so rude to her? At least she’s trying to be reasonable. If anyone’s acting childishly it’s you.’

  Oh, God. This was just getting worse. Her eighteen-year-old daughter had more gumption than she did. No wonder Amy couldn’t wait to fly the nest and make a life of her own. Look at her role models.

  ‘I’ll talk to your mother any way I choose.’ David shook his fist at Amy.

  ‘And you do, don’t you? You’re always putting her down and making unkind remarks. Well, you’re not going to bully me the way you do Mum. I’m out of here.’

  ‘Come back, I haven’t finished,’ David shouted to Amy’s retreating back.

  ‘Yes, you have!’ Amy stormed out of the front door, followed by David.

  And then there was silence.

  Patricia slumped against the sofa, alone with her thoughts, the unfinished dusting and flaming Sky Sports.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Tuesday, 11 March

  Scott had learnt long ago that life was full of surprises. The latest one was being called back to the florist’s in Heatherton to fix the boiler, which had packed up again. It’d been three weeks since his last visit. The owner hadn’t exactly warmed to him or his plumbing skills during his previous call-out, so why she was engaging his services again he wasn’t sure. But business was business and he wasn’t about to refuse.

  The gentle tinkle of the bell above the door announced his arrival. Despite the warming spring weather outside it was chilly inside, and he was glad he’d worn his fleece. The smell of cut flowers was potent and heady, the floor space covered with buckets of roses and various other blooms.

  As the proprietor appeared from the rear of the shop, he could almost sense the air temperature drop another few degrees. She looked far from pleased. He tried not to feel affronted.

  Her long, dark hair was clipped up, a tumble of messy waves framed her unsmiling face. She was dressed in faded jeans and jumper, her petite figure hidden underneath a shapeless apron. And then he spotted her shoes.

  The shock of such contrasting footwear caught him off guard. He openly laughed, tapering his reaction when she folded her arms across her chest. ‘Something amusing?’

  He nodded at her pink and white wedges. ‘You can’t blame me for laughing. What are they, anyhow?’

  She shuffled uncomfortably. ‘Kittens.’

  ‘Kittens?’ He peered closer. True enough, two cute faces smiled back, complete with whiskers and woeful button eyes. ‘They’re very … unique.’

  She made a derisive noise. ‘I booked you to mend my boiler, not comment on my footwear.’

  He sighed. It was going to be a long day. ‘I was surprised to hear from you.’

  ‘Yeah, well, you were the only plumber available and I need it mended urgently.’ She gestured for him to follow. ‘Maybe this time you could fix it so it lasts.’

  Talk about unreasonable. ‘Like I said last time, it’s an old boiler. You’re lucky it’s still working at all.’ He dropped his bag on the floor. ‘I’ll do what I can, but I’m not making any promises.’

  She shrugged. ‘Fine. Do what you can. Please,’ she added, almost as an afterthought. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  He hesitated. Was this a trick question? Last time he’d been served up brown sludge.

  He nodded, cautiously. ‘Tea would be great, thank you … Evie. I assume you remember how I like it?’ He smiled, hoping remembering her first name might thaw her frostiness.

  His efforts were met with a stony response. Okay, maybe not.

  ‘White, no sugar, please.’

  She sneezed and disappeared into the kitchen.

  He scratched his head. When had he lost the ability to make a woman smile? He might not be looking for a deep and meaningful relationship, but it would be nice to know he wasn’t repugnant to the opposite sex. The idea that he was past his prime was highly disturbing.

  As he unloaded hi
s tools, Evie’s assistant arrived. She was wearing huge sunglasses and a woollen hat pulled low over her head. Dragging her feet in typical teenage fashion, she crossed the shop floor, her gait straightening when she spotted Scott. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you again.’

  He returned her smile, grateful someone seemed pleased to see him. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to see me again, either.’

  Evie appeared from the kitchen carrying a mug of tea. She placed it on the countertop without looking at him. ‘Morning, Saffy.’

  Saffy removed her sunglasses and stared at the mug of tea. ‘Blimey. That’s a first.’

  Scott sniffed the contents, checking for signs of cyanide. At least it was warm this time. ‘I’ll need to turn off the mains. You might want to fill the kettle so you have water for later.’

  Evie glared at him. ‘I won’t be on hand to make you tea all morning, you know. I am trying to run a business.’

  Flipping heck she was testy. ‘I wasn’t suggesting you fill the kettle so you could make me tea. You might want a general store of water on hand whilst the main supply is turned off.’

  Her cheeks coloured. ‘Right, okay. I’ll do that. Sorry.’ She went into the kitchen.

  Jesus. Scott removed the boiler cover. ‘Is she like this with all men, or just me?’

  Saffy removed her coat, leaving her hat on. ‘Just you. She’s very polite to everyone else.’

  Scott wasn’t sure this was helpful. ‘Makes you wonder why she booked me to come again.’ He aimed his torch at the panel on the side of the boiler, trying to make out the faded writing on the instruction sticker.

  Saffy hopped onto the countertop and crossed her legs. ‘The firm she tried last week were too expensive and the one she contacted yesterday never bothered turning up.’

  Scott laughed. He was more amused than offended, even if he did feel a little put out she’d taken such a dislike to him. What the hell was wrong with him? He was a nice guy … Wasn’t he?

  The doorbell tinkled. A young guy entered wearing funeral attire, a top hat tucked under his arm. ‘Hey there, Saffy-with-the-hat.’ His grin was toothy and enthusiastic, his interest in Saffy as apparent as the nature of his employment.

  Saffy’s reaction to the lad’s arrival was about as welcoming as Evie had been to Scott. ‘What do you want?’

  The lad laughed. ‘Great sales technique. I’m just checking on an order for later. Will it be ready?’

  Saffy peered at him from under the brim of her hat. ‘Have any of your orders ever not been ready?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nope.’

  ‘Then no reason to suppose it’ll be any different this time.’ Her top lip curled into a sneer. ‘If there’s nothing else?’ She waved her fingers. ‘Bye bye.’

  Evie emerged from the kitchen. ‘Oh, hi, Josh. Your order’s not ready yet, I’m afraid. Can you come back in a couple of hours?’

  Josh smiled. ‘No worries, I was just passing. Thought I’d drop in.’ He hesitated, stealing a sideways glance at Saffy. ‘I’ll come back then.’ When she didn’t reply, he headed for the door. ‘See you later, Saffy-with-the-hat.’

  Saffy feigned a smile. ‘Not if I see you first … Josh-with-the-ears,’ she mumbled once the door had closed behind him.

  Despite the girl’s outward hostility, Scott noticed she watched Josh as he ambled down the street, her pretence of disinterest typical of most teenagers.

  If only his nephew viewed attention from the opposite sex with as much disdain. Maybe then Scott would be saved the hassle of trying to dissuade Ben from getting married. As it was, all his objections had been met with resolute certainty from the kid that he knew what he was doing. Ben was hell-bent on marrying Amy Robinson and nothing Scott had said over the past week had made a blind bit of difference.

  Scott went into the kitchen to locate the stopcock.

  Kids these days had an answer for everything, and Scott was running out of angles to try. It didn’t help that Billie supported her young grandson. Though she wasn’t able to say much on the subject, the little she did manage to communicate made it clear she wasn’t against the idea. Why, he wasn’t sure.

  As he turned off the water valve he noticed the U-bend had a leak. Thankfully, he always carried a spare. He unscrewed the damaged part.

  Why couldn’t Ben act like a normal eighteen-year-old? Getting drunk every weekend would be preferable to this scenario. But no, he’d been landed with trying to parent a kid with more life-planning skills than Scott had, and he was pushing thirty.

  Frustrated, Scott inspected the locking nuts. The thread had gone. The P-trap was also rotten. It disintegrated in his hands. He placed the washing-up bowl under the U-bend to catch the dripping water.

  Evie came into the kitchen.

  ‘Don’t run the taps without putting the plug in the sink or using a container.’ He looked up at her. ‘I need to change the middle section of the U-bend. You have a leak.’

  She looked frustrated. ‘I didn’t ask you to look at the sink.’

  Christ, she was hard work. ‘I know you didn’t, but you have a leak. Look.’ He showed her the sodden base of the under sink cupboard. ‘If I deal with it while I’m here it’ll be less hassle and cheaper.’

  She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. ‘How much will it cost?’

  He stood up. ‘I’ll only charge you for the part, no labour. Ten quid will cover it.’ What was he doing? He wasn’t going to build a successful business if he didn’t charge the going rate for work.

  When her expression switched to an almost smile, he felt better about taking a hit on the price.

  ‘That’s really kind of you.’

  Damn right it was. He was a kind bloke. Not that she’d noticed. He returned to the boiler, wondering why he felt better about the situation than he should.

  He found Saffy sitting on the countertop, looking pensive. He nudged her Doc Marten boot. ‘So, you have an admirer, huh?’

  She reacted as though he’d told her she had snot hanging from her nose. ‘No, I haven’t!’

  Scott laughed. ‘What’s wrong with that? He seems like a nice lad.’

  She pursed her lips. ‘Shows how much you know. Boys are nothing but trouble. The devil incarnate. The bringer of all evil.’

  Her reaction made him laugh harder. ‘You’re a little young to be so cynical.’

  She shrugged. ‘I know what I know. Men let you down, they can’t be trusted.’

  Evie appeared carrying a large potted plant. The sight of her cheeks, flushed from the exertion, momentarily distracted Scott from dealing with the boiler. He dragged his gaze away from her backside. ‘Now that’s where I disagree. Boys are straightforward. It’s girls who are scary. Dating women is like running with scissors.’

  Evie almost dropped the plant. Scott went to her aid, only to be rebuffed with, ‘I can manage, thank you.’

  Shrugging, he returned to the boiler, preparing to change the cut-off valve. He’d only been trying to help.

  Saffy swivelled to face him. ‘You must have a girlfriend?’

  Scott unearthed a length of copper piping from his bag. ‘Why must I?’

  ‘You’re male and you have a pulse.’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘Plus, you look like relationship material.’

  He glanced at her. ‘How do you figure that?’

  She waved a hand dismissively. ‘You know, all handsome and … nice.’ She said it in a tone that indicated those weren’t traits to be admired. ‘I’ve witnessed enough bad boys marrying my mother to spot them a mile off. You ain’t one of them.’

  At least someone thought he was a good guy. He looked at Evie, whose raised eyebrow indicated she didn’t share the opinion of her remarkably jaded yet scarily astute assistant.

  True, he was no saint, but he’d always treated women with respect. He’d never done the dirty on them. But there was no way he was about to admit that. Disclosing that he wasn’t a bad boy would only lead to questions about why he didn’t have a girlfriend. And ther
e was no way he was about to spill the beans about his sorry existence to a teenage emo. He had some pride.

  ‘Sorry to ruin your theory, but no girlfriend. And no intention of getting one. Single and fancy-free, that’s me.’ He cut through the piping, filing the ends to smooth them off. ‘Just the way I like it.’

  Saffy looked over at her boss. ‘Interesting. So you don’t have a girlfriend,’ she said, deliberately loudly, ignoring his claims that he wasn’t in the market for love.

  ‘And I’m not looking for one, either,’ he added, eager to dispel any false idea that he was attracted to her employer … even though he was.

  Saffy pulled a sceptical face. ‘Are you trying to tell me you’re a player?’

  Aware that Evie was watching and keen to reassure her that he wasn’t up for being paired off any more than she was, he grinned. ‘What can I say? I like women. I just don’t want any ties or commitments. Free as a bird, that’s me.’ Okay, that sounded way worse than he’d intended.

  It had the desired effect though. If looks could kill, he’d have been executed by both women simultaneously. Saffy jumped off the countertop and sauntered off. Evie sneezed and turned her back on him.

  Good, he needed to concentrate.

  Disappointing both women might not be a good feeling, but creating the appearance of a far more simplistic lifestyle than the one he actually led might stop Saffy asking him so many personal questions. He liked to keep his private life private.

  Clipping the pipe cutter onto the existing piping, he twisted until it cut through the metal.

  Despite his bravado, a small part of him felt guilty. He shouldn’t be ashamed of his current lifestyle, but he didn’t want to tell the world about his problems. Putting his family first was the right thing to do, but that obligation didn’t mix with forming a relationship. So if making out he was a ‘commitment-phobe’ diverted Saffy’s matchmaking intentions, then so be it.

  He plugged in his soldering iron, trying to focus on the job in hand. But no sooner had he started soldering the joints of the valve onto the piping than his thoughts drifted to the phone call he’d had that morning with his sister.