The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop

by Tracy Corbett

  Marlon jumped to his feet. He jogged over to Evie, no hint of remorse for the trouble he’d caused.

  ‘Oh, so now you decide to obey. Traitorous hound.’ She placed her hands on her hips, watching as Scott binned the remnants of his chicken roll. ‘I’m sorry about your lunch.’

  He grinned. ‘I’ll survive. How long have you had him?’

  ‘Just over a week. We’re still getting used to each other. Isn’t that right, Marlon?’

  Marlon lifted a paw as if in introduction.

  Scott laughed. ‘You make a good fit.’

  Evie wasn’t sure how to take that. ‘I’m not convinced. He seems determined to test my patience.’

  Scott unscrewed the front of the boiler. ‘Of course he does. He needs to know you’ll love him no matter what he does. It’s classic male behaviour. He won’t bother committing until he’s sure you’re equally invested.’

  Evie didn’t like the heat creeping into her cheeks. ‘And you know this how?’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s not rocket science. Men are pretty basic creatures. We want to be loved.’ He looked right at her. ‘Isn’t that what most people want?’

  Time to change topic. Especially as she wasn’t entirely sure they were still talking about dogs. ‘I’d better get on. Thanks for the honey.’

  Scott switched on his torch and turned to the boiler. ‘My pleasure.’

  Evie returned to arranging the wreath she’d been working on before Scott arrived, fighting the urge to engage with him further.

  Strangely, Marlon seemed calmer with Scott around. Or maybe he was just worn out from his boisterous antics. Whatever the reason, he tucked himself under the counter and curled into a ball. His insecurity only resurfaced when Scott hit the boiler with a hammer and he visibly flinched.

  Perhaps Scott was right. Maybe Marlon’s unhappy past was affecting his ability to trust. She could empathise. Maybe they were a good fit after all.

  For the next hour or so they worked in companionable silence. The peace was only shattered when Saffy arrived, closely followed by Josh, who’d popped in to collect an order.

  Saffy wore her usual grumpy expression, a black beret angled over her eyes. Dressed in trademark emo style, the only hint of spring came in the form of a bright orange flower pinned to her patchwork bag. Josh’s sombre funeral attire was a contrast to his cheerful smile, which didn’t falter even when Saffy let the door swing shut in his face.

  Evie sighed. Josh might have a crush on Saffy the size of a tsunami, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take his custom elsewhere. There was only so much abuse a man could take.

  Josh made a beeline for Marlon. ‘Is he yours?’ he said to Scott.

  Scott shook his head. ‘He belongs to Evie. I’m not allowed animals where I live. Much as I’d love one.’

  ‘Me neither.’ Josh sat down next to Marlon and crossed his legs, making him look even younger than his nineteen years. ‘I share digs with a grunge band called Vampires Are People Too. They don’t seem like the animal-loving type.’

  Scott laughed, attaching what looked like a meter to the boiler. ‘Weird name for a band?’

  Josh shrugged. ‘They don’t go out much during the day.’

  Scott’s confusion over Josh’s Victorian attire must have prompted his next question. ‘You in the band too?’

  Saffy appeared with her Minnie the Minx coffee mug. Josh glanced over, a wistful look on his face. ‘Nah, no musical talent. I like living with them though. It annoys my parents.’

  Scott unplugged the meter. ‘Is that an aim of yours?’

  Josh looked thoughtful. ‘Not deliberately. I’m just different to the rest of the Garrett clan. My mum plays bridge. My dad’s a senior accountant with British Airways. I have three older brothers who are all sporty and academic. They’ve never heard of Minecraft.’

  ‘You must have something in common,’ said Scott, plugging in a soldering iron.

  Josh shook his head. ‘Not really. They own blazers.’

  Scott laughed. ‘Point taken.’

  Saffy leant against the counter, angling her body towards the door, feigning disinterest.

  Evie contemplated reminding her young assistant she should be working, but decided against it. Despite Saffy’s continuing protestations, she was as fascinated with the young undertaker as he was with her. She’d just rather die than admit it.

  And anyway, Evie was learning more about Josh than she’d picked up in over a year of serving him. Her plumber had a gift for getting teenagers to open up.

  Scott melted something on the printed circuit board. ‘So what are you into?’

  Josh rubbed Marlon’s ears, making his paws twitch. ‘Usual stuff. Marilyn Manson, Star Trek. Slasher movies.’

  Scott wafted away smoke. ‘Hence the outfit.’

  ‘I’m an undertaker. It kind of goes with the job.’

  ‘Unusual career choice for someone so young,’ said Scott, reattaching the meter.

  ‘It’s my calling.’ He glanced at Saffy, as if sensing her staring. ‘I believe the dead should be treated with as much respect as the living.’

  Saffy glanced away.

  Scott unplugged the meter, seemingly unhappy with the results. ‘Fair enough. So, slasher movies, eh?’

  ‘Yep, and Doctor Who.’

  Scott grinned. ‘Me too.’

  Saffy pulled a face and mumbled something under her breath.

  Josh’s smile brightened. ‘Favourite doctor?’

  ‘David Tennant. You?’

  ‘Paul McGann. Hugely underrated.’

  Saffy snorted. ‘Oh. My. God. Could you be any geekier?’

  ‘Don’t you like Doctor Who?’ asked Josh, climbing to his feet.

  ‘As if.’ Evie knew this was untrue, she’d seen Saffy’s TARDIS screen saver on her tablet. ‘Only losers are into sci-fi.’

  Josh folded his arms. ‘Excuse me? Losers? What’s your idea of someone who isn’t a loser? Some guy with money, a Lamborghini and pecs like Ryan Gosling?’

  Saffy blushed. ‘I don’t like Ryan Gosling.’ She fiddled with her coffee mug. ‘And I don’t want a guy with money either.’

  Josh grinned. ‘So you admit you want a guy, just not one with money?’

  Saffy recoiled. ‘I didn’t say that. I just meant I want to make my own money and not rely on anyone else.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’ Josh held out his hand to Scott. ‘Good to meet you, by the way. I’m Josh-with-the-ears.’ He gave Saffy a challenging look.

  Saffy’s blush deepened.

  Evie stifled a laugh, wondering how long Josh had known about his pet name.

  Scott raised an eyebrow. ‘Er, nice to meet you, Josh. I’m—’

  ‘Scottie the Hottie, yeah, I know.’

  Now it was Evie’s turn to blush. When Scott turned to look at her she pointed at Saffy. ‘Her nickname, not mine.’

  Saffy folded her arms. ‘Wow. Throw me under the bus, why don’t you?’

  The bell above the door rang, something Evie was eternally grateful for. She reverted her attention to serving customers, wondering if the morning could get any more humiliating.

  The customer in question approached the counter oozing confidence and style, dressed in a designer polo shirt, wearing smart boating shoes and a deep tan. Evie would have put him in his late forties, but good for his age. He smelt nice too, a musky aftershave with a tinge of lemon. The strength of the scent tickled her nose, making her sneeze.

  ‘Bless you.’ He slid the box of tissues on the counter towards her.

  A man with manners. Nice change. ‘Thank you. How may I help you?’

  He grinned. ‘I can think of one way.’

  Evie paused, tissue halfway to her nose, no longer impressed.

  He leant against the counter. ‘I’d like to order two bouquets, please.’

  She dabbed the end of her nose. ‘Certainly. What did you have in mind?’

  The raising of his eyebrows accentuated his mischievous intentions. ‘Thre
e dozen red roses.’ He looked around the shop. ‘What are those?’

  She followed his line of vision to the Indian orange floribundas. ‘Lovers’ Meeting.’

  He pulled out his wallet. ‘Perfect.’

  ‘They’re not red.’ She felt the need to point this out.

  ‘I like the name.’ He wiggled an eyebrow. ‘And I need another bunch. Something less … provocative?’ The glint in his eye said, ‘Know what I mean, love?’

  She wished she didn’t.

  He nodded towards the front of the shop. ‘What are those?’

  It was Evie’s turn to raise an eyebrow. ‘Carnations.’ Who didn’t recognise carnations?

  He grinned. ‘They look suitably apologetic.’

  She picked up a pen. ‘If I could just take a few details.’

  He rested his arms on the counter. ‘Details? Such as my phone number?’

  A blush crept into her cheeks. More from irritation than flattery. ‘Let’s stick with the order details. How will you be paying?’

  He shrugged. ‘Worth a try.’ Extracting a business card from his wallet, he slid it across. ‘In case you change your mind.’

  A loud bang from the boiler startled her. She turned to see Scott wielding a hammer. He looked annoyed. The repairs weren’t going well, obviously.

  Unnerved by the noise, Marlon woke with a start. Scott knelt down and calmed him with soothing noises.

  Evie turned back to the man.

  ‘Put the carnations on my credit card.’ He handed her his MasterCard. ‘I’ll pay for the roses with cash.’

  Evie had been in the business long enough to know what a cash purchase meant. The guy was clearly a player. However, as she didn’t want Saffy’s cynical views on love being affirmed, she chose to ignore the obvious connotation. ‘Not a problem.’ She glanced at the card. ‘Mr Robinson.’

  ‘Call me David.’

  Evie could think of a few other names.

  ‘Can you deliver the carnations to my home?’ He wrote down the address on the order form.

  ‘Certainly. What name?’

  ‘Patricia Robinson.’

  Evie bit her lip. It was the only way to stop herself snarling. ‘I’m sure your wife will be delighted with her flowers.’

  ‘Thank you. And can you deliver the roses to this address.’ He scribbled on a scrap of paper and handed her fifty quid cash. The transaction was accompanied by a wink.

  Evie sighed as she glanced down at the address. His lover, no doubt. Confusion hit when she realised the name on the piece of paper was her friend Laura, followed by the address of Truly Scrumptious. It took a good deal of self-control not to question the man or show any recognition. Confidentiality was a key requisite of being a successful florist, after all.

  Instead, she returned her attention to the man, only to find him staring at her chest as he finished writing out the card. She had to stop herself reaching for the secateurs and deflowering his bits. There were enough wilting stems in the shop as it was.

  And anyway, it was none of her business if he chose to be a cheapskate and buy his wife ten-quid flowers, while Laura received three dozen stunning roses. The customer was always right, she reminded herself, even if he was a scum-sucking lowlife. She shouldn’t jump to conclusions. There might be a perfectly innocent and professional reason why this man was buying her friend flowers. The fact that he chose to pay cash was irrelevant … At least, that’s what she tried to tell herself.

  When his eyes lifted to her face, Evie greeted his flirtations with a deadpan glare. She walked over to the door and opened it. ‘Good day, Mr Robinson. I hope your wife enjoys her flowers.’ And I hope she spikes your dinner with dog food.

  She was subjected to another wink as he exited the shop. ‘Call me.’

  Evie slammed the door, causing the bell to rattle loudly. ‘In your dreams, matey.’

  She turned to find Saffy, Josh and Scott staring at her. Needing a distraction, she found herself saying, ‘Tea, anyone?’ and disappeared into the kitchen before anyone could answer.

  It was a good few minutes before anyone joined her. Even without turning around, she knew by the waft of industrial-strength grease that Scott had drawn the short straw. ‘You okay?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ She banged her mug down on the countertop, aware she sounded anything but. She shouldn’t let men like David Robinson get to her. He was irrelevant. A timely reminder she was better off single.

  Scott approached, seeming to hesitate. ‘You know, I’d just like to point out that not all men are—’

  She spun around. ‘What, Neanderthal idiots?’

  He surprised her by laughing. ‘Exactly.’ He ran a hand over his face, suddenly appearing a tad vulnerable. ‘I’m guessing this would be a bad time to ask you out?’

  Evie stared at him, unsure she’d heard correctly. Was he serious? He wanted to go out with her? She waited for the punch line … but it didn’t come.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Monday, 14 April

  Scott immediately regretted opening his mouth. What had he been thinking? Well, he hadn’t, that much was obvious. Otherwise he’d never have been so stupid as to ask her out. But she’d taken him by surprise, flooring him with that smile of hers. One minute she was prickly and agitated, the next she was chasing Marlon around the shop trying to get her shoe back, her playful laughter fooling Scott into thinking that maybe life wasn’t so bad and it was time to move on. But just because she’d softened since his last visit didn’t mean she wanted to date him. Her pleasure at receiving a jar of honey had simply been politeness, not romantic interest. A fact he might have realised if he hadn’t been suckered in by the charm of her acquiring a rescue dog and wearing nutty shoes.

  If he was in any doubt as to the error of his judgement, he only had to look at the expression on her face. A combination of horror and panic distorted her normally attractive features.

  She backed away, bumping into the sink behind. ‘I don’t think that would be such a good idea.’

  It was a much politer response than he’d been expecting. He covered his embarrassment as best he could. ‘No worries.’ It wasn’t like he was looking for a relationship, was it? So really, her rejection was no big deal. Keep telling yourself that, mate. ‘I was just chancing my luck.’ He tried for a nonchalant shrug.

  She didn’t look appeased. ‘Charmed, I’m sure.’

  Cursing his mouth for dropping him in it, he reverted to the job in hand. ‘I couldn’t fix the printed circuit board. I tried searching for a replacement, but it appears to be obsolete.’

  Her body language switched from awkwardness to agitation. ‘What does that mean?’

  He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘It means that if I can’t find a replacement you’ll need a new boiler.’

  She sagged against the sink. ‘Are you sure?’

  She was questioning his plumbing skills? She really didn’t have a very high opinion of him, did she? ‘The boiler’s thirty years old. They don’t make the parts any more. The best I can hope for is finding a stockist on eBay.’

  She frowned. ‘And how likely is that?’

  He shrugged. ‘Sometimes you strike lucky. I wouldn’t count on it. I think you need to prepare for the worst.’

  She pushed away from the sink. ‘And how much will a new boiler cost?’

  He was tempted to inflate the price so she’d go elsewhere, but his ethics and desire for an income prevented him taking the easy route. ‘Around eighteen hundred quid.’

  ‘How much?’ She looked even more horrified than when he’d asked her out.

  ‘It’s a major job. Your current boiler is an old-style gravity-fed system. I’ll need to fit a new pressure system which involves re-plumbing half the building.’

  Her hands went to her hips. ‘Surely that’s not necessary? Isn’t there another option?’

  Yeah, go without heating, he wanted to say. ‘I’m afraid not. It’ll take me at least four days to carry out the work. You’re welcome to get a
nother quote, but that’s the best price I can offer.’

  Her expression told him she didn’t believe him.

  Jesus, and there he was trying to give her a good deal. ‘I might be able to reduce my labour charge, but it depends how long the job takes. I can’t promise anything.’

  She let out an audible sigh. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  Big of her. ‘Let me know what you decide.’ He headed into the shop to pack up his things, thinking how a ‘thank you’ might have been nice. But that was just his optimism tripping him up again. He was too soft for his own good.

  As he crouched down to collect his tools, Marlon nudged his arm. The dog’s sad eyes mirrored his own. With his wiry, sandy-coloured coat and a chunk missing from one ear, Marlon looked quite the scruffy tramp. Despite this, there was a real elegance to his demeanour; he was almost regal in his stillness. For some inexplicable reason, Scott felt a wave of emotion rise up inside him. As if sensing this less than manly onslaught, the dog lifted a paw and placed it on Scott’s arm.

  This simple gesture by a tattered-looking animal was nearly his undoing. Scott buried his face in Marlon’s fur, pretending to pet him, whilst trying to get a grip on his emotions. It must be tiredness. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept through the night. His mum’s bedsores meant she needed rolling over every two hours. And while he didn’t mind doing it, constant sleep deprivation was taking its toll. Billie’s lack of mobility was starting to affect the blood vessels in her legs, with the recent onset of deep vein thrombosis, resulting in further medication and regular trips to the physio. Not a good development.

  All this on top of Ben’s wedding in less than three months’ time, his sister’s continuing reluctance to get involved, and the ever-increasing financial strain, he guessed feeling a bit weepy was probably to be expected. It didn’t make it any less humiliating, though.

  Pulling himself together, he ruffled Marlon’s fur and stood up. If he was feeling the effects of Billie’s deteriorating condition, then she must be too. Carrying his bag out to the van, he wondered whether he took his mum’s stoicism for granted. Perhaps he was guilty of focusing on what he’d lost since Billie’s stroke, rather than the enormity of what his mum had to deal with. Tending to her physical needs was challenging enough, but he needed to ensure she was emotionally cared for too. Buying her flowers might be a nice place to start.