The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop

by Tracy Corbett

  ‘I do, most days. But it’s a far cry from training to be a fashion designer. Something I gave up so that you could pursue your dreams to be a sports agent.’

  Martin lifted himself onto one elbow, making the bed wobble. ‘Is that why you’re so pissed off all the time? You resent me because I never made it?’

  Laura twisted so she was facing him. ‘Of course not. But I do resent the way it’s all about you. Your career, your desire to procreate, your insistence that we buy a bloody new bed. It’s never about me.’

  He let out a funny, strangled laugh. ‘Everything I do is for you.’

  She held his gaze. ‘Then why aren’t I happy?’

  He paused before answering. ‘I don’t know, Laura. Why aren’t you?’

  Oh, no, she wasn’t having that. She shoved him, pushing him back against the bed. ‘Don’t you dare lay this on me. I’m not the one who’s changed. You’re the one who’s switched from being a passionate exciting man with ambition into a … a …’

  He caught her hand. ‘Go on, say it.’

  ‘A miserable bore!’ Well, he asked for it.

  He looked like he was about to retaliate.

  ‘Go on, fight back. Show some passion – for once.’

  He dropped her hand and got off the bed. Coward.

  She grabbed the flap of his jacket. ‘You can’t keep walking away from our problems, Martin. I need some kind of indication that you’re still invested. That you still want me.’

  He removed her hand from his jacket. ‘Now is not the time.’

  She scrambled to her knees. ‘When then?’

  He lifted his hands defensively. ‘Laura, please. I’m tired.’

  ‘Tired?’ She picked up a pillow and swiped him around the head with it. ‘You’re tired?’ He shielded his face as another blow rained down, messing his hair.

  In the corner of her eye she could make out Roger scuttling over. ‘Madam, please! Not the goose-down.’

  Scrambling off the bed, she tossed away the pillow. ‘Buy a bloody new bed, Martin, see if I care.’ She rammed her feet into her shoes. ‘It doesn’t seem to matter what I want, you just do what you like anyway. I’m sick of it.’

  She headed for the exit, anger radiating from every pore, tears streaming down her face. Behind her she heard Martin offer to pay for the battered pillow.

  How could he remain so calm all the time, so reasonable, so bloody passive?

  But in her heart she knew the answer.

  He didn’t love her any more.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Saturday, 5 April

  Evie suppressed a chuckle when she realised Laura’s hands were squashed over her ears. It was fair to say her friend wasn’t a huge animal lover, something that was becoming all too apparent as they walked through the courtyard surrounded by a cacophony of noise and mayhem. There was also the smell. Laura was gagging, her scarf wrapped around her face, shielding her nose from the onslaught of animal aroma.

  Laura lowered her scarf. ‘Remind me again why you’re doing this?’

  ‘I told you. I’m in need of some company.’ Which was true. ‘I have a desire to give someone who’s unloved a home.’ Which was also true. The hard part was choosing which one. There were so many animals needing homes. The cages either side were full to the brim, canines of all shapes and sizes barking away, pushing their way to the front as if to say, ‘Pick me! Pick me!’ It was heartbreaking.

  Laura didn’t share Evie’s sentiment. ‘And to think I closed the shop early for this.’ She visibly shuddered when one of the dogs cocked his leg against the railings. ‘If you will insist on getting a dog, why on earth don’t you buy one from a breeder? These all look so … mangy.’ Laura moved away from the cage, as if fearful of being contaminated.

  Evie paused to pet a border collie. ‘So would you if you’d been mistreated and abandoned. Besides, buying a purebred costs a packet, and it’s not like you’re guaranteed a healthy dog any more than getting a rescue dog. Haven’t you heard the stories about in-breeding?’

  Laura loosened her scarf. ‘Wouldn’t you prefer a designer Labradoodle?’

  Evie shook her head. ‘I want a rescue dog. Someone who’ll appreciate my love and attention. Who’ll defend and protect me. It’s well known rescue dogs make better companions.’

  Laura didn’t look convinced. But then Evie doubted anything would appeal to Laura at the moment. Her friend was becoming increasingly depressed.

  ‘I guess we could all do with a bit of love and attention at times.’ There was a certain wistfulness in Laura’s voice as she watched a couple petting a Jack Russell, the excitement on their faces seeming to melt her resistance a little. ‘I know I could.’

  Evie rubbed her friend’s arm. ‘For what it’s worth, I think you’re giving up on Martin too soon.’

  Laura shrugged. ‘I don’t. He’s not into me any more. He’s as miserable as I am.’

  Evie chose her words carefully. ‘Isn’t that an indication that he’s just as frustrated as you are?’

  ‘Then why won’t he make an effort? It’s like he’s deliberately trying to piss me off. I read this article where blokes want to leave but they don’t have the balls, so they make life so rotten their partner ends things just to stop the suffering, leaving them blameless.’

  Evie shook her head. ‘Martin’s not that devious. He’s not hidden the fact that he’s unhappy, has he? He’s been upfront, which is what people do when they want to work things out. I don’t think you should concede defeat just yet.’

  Laura moved away from an over-friendly red setter. ‘I’ve tried everything I can think of, nothing’s worked. I need to face reality.’

  Evie felt for her friend. ‘What will you do?’

  ‘No idea.’ Laura replaced the scarf across her mouth. ‘So, which one is it to be?’ She pointed to a sturdy bulldog. ‘He doesn’t look too bad, if you ignore the floppy bits.’

  But Evie’s attention had been drawn to a forlorn-looking dog at the back of the far cage. Unlike the others, he wasn’t barking, just looking at her with huge, mournful eyes. With his wiry coat and sandy colouring he looked like a moth-eaten Brillo pad. It was love at first sight.

  Evie’s throat constricted as she beheld the desperation in his gaze and his torn right ear. ‘This one.’ She beckoned Laura over.

  It took Laura a while to realise which dog Evie was referring to. As her gaze settled on Evie’s choice of companion she raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you kidding? That’s the most pathetic-looking creature I’ve ever seen.’

  Evie nodded. ‘Exactly. He might just be my soulmate.’

  The look Laura gave Evie left her in no doubt as to what she thought.

  Having found a helper, Evie and Laura were shown to an introduction room. Ten minutes later a very nice woman wearing wellies and a Barbour jacket appeared. ‘Hi, I’m Allison.’ She smiled broadly. ‘And this is Marlon.’ She gestured to the nervous creature hiding behind her legs. ‘He’s approximately two years old. We don’t know much about his background as he was abandoned by the side of the road, but as you can see, he’s a crossbreed with definite lurcher heritage. Would you like to say hello? He’s a very friendly chap.’

  Evie accepted the doggy treat from Allison and crouched down, hand outstretched, hoping Marlon would be tempted enough to risk approaching. When he didn’t move, she shuffled forwards, trying to be submissive. ‘Come to Mummy.’

  Laura snorted. ‘Is this your idea of a companion?’

  ‘Give him a chance. He’s overwhelmed, poor thing.’

  Allison encouraged Marlon to accept the treat, which he eventually did. ‘See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?’ she said to the dog, and then stepped away, allowing Evie to pet him.

  ‘He’s housetrained, but we ask all new owners to take the dogs to training classes. It’ll help establish a relationship between you and teach them to become sociable.’

  Evie ruffled his wiry hair. ‘Can I take him home today?’

  Allison sm
iled. ‘Sure, as long as you’ve got all the equipment.’

  Evie retrieved the Ruff & Tuff toy from her jacket pocket. ‘My sister sent me a parcel with all the stuff I’d need. She’s a vet.’

  ‘Then he’s all yours. You need to fill out the adoption paperwork,’ she said, unhooking a clipboard from the wall.

  Marlon sniffed the ball of rope in Evie’s hand, assessing her choice of gift, allowing her to inspect his torn ear. ‘How did he do this?’

  Allison handed her the form. ‘No idea. It’s fully healed, but the vet did note his hearing isn’t so good on his right side.’

  Laura shook her head. ‘A deaf dog. This is just getting better by the minute. Next you’ll be telling her he hasn’t got any teeth.’

  Allison’s smile didn’t waver. ‘Nope, he’s got a healthy set of gnashers.’

  Having completed the form, Evie handed it back to Allison. ‘Anything else I need to know?’

  Allison tore off a copy of the agreement for Evie. ‘It’ll take a while for him to settle in. Don’t panic if he has a few accidents to start with.’

  Laura wrinkled up her nose. ‘Lovely.’

  Allison continued. ‘He may initially show signs of stress, such as not listening or barking. This is perfectly normal. Just be patient with him. Stay relaxed and reward good behaviour. Have you got any treats?’

  Evie nodded. ‘Not with me, but I have at home.’

  ‘Take these for the journey.’ Allison handed Evie the bag of chews. ‘Keep him on the lead when you show him around your home. Allow him time to take everything in. Most importantly, establish a routine. Feed him twice a day and don’t bath him in the first few days, it’s too stressful.’

  Evie hoped she wouldn’t forget anything. She loved dogs, but she’d never owned one. This was a big step. As if sensing her anxiety, Marlon rested his chin on her shoulder when she crouched down to pet him, his nose cold against her cheek.

  Allison laughed. ‘Well, that’s a good sign. I think he approves.’

  Evie cuddled him close. He smelt of wet fur. ‘Time to take you home.’ She stood up, ignoring Laura’s horrified expression. It didn’t matter if Laura thought he wasn’t suitable. Evie saw real potential. He had character.

  Allison opened the door. ‘If he doesn’t settle at night, try a warm hot water bottle wrapped in a blanket. That should comfort him. Good luck. Thank you for giving Marlon a loving home. That’s all we want for our dogs.’

  Marlon glanced back at Allison, causing a pinch inside Evie’s chest. He was an intelligent dog, she just knew it. With his head down and a mournful gait, he followed Evie out of the centre.

  When they arrived at Laura’s car, her friend opened the boot. For one awful moment Evie wondered if Laura was suggesting Marlon get in. Thankfully she was only retrieving a blanket to cover the back seat. ‘I’m not having that thing mess up my interior.’

  Evie ignored the slight, grateful for the lift home. She tried to lighten the mood by telling her friend about Farah Bitar’s suggestion she enter a floristry competition. ‘She said it would improve my profile.’

  ‘She’s right.’ Laura pulled onto the A21. ‘Competitions are great for networking. That’s why I go to the wedding fairs. Has the owner of the flower shop made any more noises about selling?’

  Evie twisted in the seat to look at Marlon, ensuring he wasn’t too stressed by Laura’s erratic driving. He was sitting with his back straight, gazing out of the window. She hoped he wasn’t worried about being dumped again. She reached back and tickled his chin.

  ‘No, but that doesn’t mean she won’t. Mrs Bitar seemed to think a competition place might improve my chances of getting a bank loan. Mind you, I haven’t competed since college. There’s no guarantee I’ll be any good.’

  ‘Rubbish. You’re designs are exquisite. You’ll wipe the floor with everyone.’ Laura drove so fast around a roundabout poor Marlon nearly slid off the seat.

  Evie held onto his collar. ‘Competition work isn’t the same as shop work. It’s more technical, more stylised. You need to be original. It’s not just about a pretty bouquet.’

  Laura pulled up outside Evie’s flat. Marlon almost looked relieved. ‘When’s the competition?’

  ‘Second weekend in June. It’s local, so I won’t have to stay overnight.’ Evie unbuckled her seatbelt.

  Laura kept the engine running. ‘Then you’ve plenty of time to practise, we’re only just into April. Is there a theme?’

  ‘Several. I was thinking of entering the bridal category. It’s the area I’m most confident in.’

  Laura nodded. ‘Go for it.’

  ‘Are you coming in?’

  Laura glanced at Marlon. ‘Er, no, not this time. You and what’s-his-name go and get acquainted. I’d hate to intrude.’

  Evie climbed out of the car and helped Marlon out. ‘Thanks for coming with me today, Laura. I really appreciate it.’

  ‘I was glad of the distraction.’

  Evie shut the door, bending down to look through the driver’s window. ‘Will you think about what I said? Don’t write off your marriage just yet.’

  Laura nodded. ‘Sure.’ But she didn’t look like she meant it.

  Evie watched her friend drive off, then turned to find Marlon looking up at her expectantly. ‘We’d better get you inside.’

  Evie’s flat was one of four apartments in the building, but it had its own front entrance. The large Victorian building had been converted some years earlier. Evie had been fortunate enough to secure the corner plot with double doors leading to a small enclosed garden.

  Keeping Marlon on the lead, she introduced him to his new home. At first he didn’t seem that bothered, but once he’d checked out his bedding in the kitchen he seemed to perk up, as though believing he was staying. It didn’t take long to explore. Evie didn’t have much furniture – there wasn’t enough room. Instead she’d added cushions to the brown sofa, arranged candles in the fireplace and put up a few black and white prints. It wasn’t much, but it cheered the space a little.

  Marlon glanced up at her as if to say, ‘Is this it?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, but it’s better than kennels.’

  He seemed to consider this, accepting she might be right. When she removed his lead he ambled over to the fireplace and lay in front of it. Evie took this as a good sign.

  At 2 a.m. the following morning she was seriously rethinking that. Marlon had howled for four hours solidly. Nothing seemed to settle him. She’d tried the water bottle trick, chatted to him, fed him, cuddled him, but nothing had worked. Her neighbours had banged on the wall several times, causing her to panic that Environmental Health might charge her with noise pollution.

  In desperation she’d called her sister, figuring a trainee vet might have a few ideas. Holly wasn’t happy about being woken up in the dead of night, but suggested Evie tuck the top she’d been wearing that day into his bedding. The smell would reassure him and help them bond.

  True enough, by three o’clock Marlon had finally stopped howling. He buried his nose into Evie’s navy fleece and settled in his basket. Breathing a sigh of relief, she stroked his head, trying to reassure him. Nice one, Holly.

  When she was sure he was asleep, she got up and crept from the kitchen. On reaching the door, she glanced back to see one paw masking his eyes.

  Laura was right. He truly was pathetic.

  Oh, well. They could evolve together.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Saturday, 12 April

  There weren’t many things that would make Patricia forfeit her Saturday morning tennis matches. Being asked to help her daughter choose a wedding dress was one of them. The fact that Patricia worried that Amy was rushing into something she might later regret was immaterial. They were bonding as all mothers and brides should do, over something borrowed and something blue.

  Unlike her husband, she wasn’t about to fall out with her daughter over her wedding plans. So, despite severe reservations, she’d opted for a differ
ent approach. Her goal being to gradually and subtly dissuade Amy from marrying so young, hoping that her daughter would arrive at the decision herself – even though Patricia knew that was about as likely as David remaining monogamous. But Patricia’s faith came from an intrinsic belief that her daughter was smart enough to eventually see sense.

  Until that moment arrived, Patricia would continue to play the role of supportive mum and go along with the preparations so as not to ruin their relationship. Ultimately, if Amy couldn’t be deterred from marrying Ben then the last thing Patricia wanted was to be estranged from her daughter.

  Amy was out of the car and eagerly assessing the dresses displayed in the bay window of the local bridal shop before Patricia had even secured the handbrake. Her daughter was buzzing with excitement. Just as a bride should be – if they weren’t eighteen and yet to finish school.

  Patricia collected her handbag and joined her daughter by the entrance, knowing she had a battle ahead. However, today was not about confrontation. It was about building trust and winning Amy over with reason and guidance. David had already shot himself in the foot by trying to play lord and master, resulting in a father–daughter stand-off. She wasn’t about to make the same mistake. Her husband might not be smart enough to know another approach was required, but Patricia was.

  Truly Scrumptious was a delightful little treasure trove. Its tasteful decor and quirky layout invited exploration. Each alcove housed a rail of dresses, and the subtle lighting and lack of formal display created a relaxed environment in which to browse.

  ‘Mum, look at these!’ Amy’s face glowed as she sifted through the dresses hanging on the rail. ‘How am I going to choose? I want them all.’

  A tall, slender woman approached, her stunning auburn hair styled into a fashionable knot at the base of her neck. ‘Welcome to Truly Scrumptious.’ She removed a tape measure from her neck. ‘You must be Amy?’

  Amy nodded. ‘This is my mum.’

  The woman extended her hand. ‘Lovely to meet you. When’s the big day?’

  Patricia found it impossible not to flinch when Amy answered, ‘Hopefully this June.’