Evie studied Scott as he waited for order to return to the room. His outward confidence masked the insecurity she knew he must be feeling. His determination not to let Ben down caused her heart to soften just that little bit more.
Scott resumed his speech. ‘Therefore, when Ben came home one night and told me and his nan he was getting married, we knew there was little point arguing.’
The screen switched to a photo of Amy wearing a ballet tutu, up on her pointes. ‘Amy’s mum tells me her daughter shares my nephew’s trait for achieving what she sets her mind on.’
This was followed by a series of photos of a smiling Amy: first riding a horse; then jumping the horse over a fence; falling off the horse; splattered in mud; and then back on the horse wearing a first-place rosette.
The guests responded in sequence – laughing, groaning, sighing and then cheering. Amy blushed, signalling for Scott to change the photo, good-naturedly chastising her mother for her subterfuge.
Scott obliged. The next photo was of Ben and Amy sitting together on the sofa at Peacock Court watching television. Billie was in her wheelchair next to them. Ben was holding his grandmother’s hand.
Scott took a moment before speaking. The image clearly dented his composure for a moment. ‘I have every confidence that Ben and Amy will be happy together. They love each other and are obviously committed to each other.’
The picture switched to a selfie of Ben and Amy smiling into the camera, their heads touching. As the shape of a heart appeared on the screen, framing the couple’s faces, the lights in the room lifted.
Scott turned to his young nephew. ‘But this got me thinking. What is love? Is it something that just happens? Is it down to luck? Or is it something we have control over?’ He picked up a scrap of paper, his hand shaking. ‘I found an explanation written in a book called The Art of Loving by Erich Fromm.’ He studied the piece of paper for a moment and then lowered it, his forehead creasing into a frown. ‘You know what, I need to say this in my own words.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Love will constantly challenge you. You need to work together, both through the good times and the bad. You need to respect each other and work together as a team.’
A few guests nodded, others sniffed.
‘Love isn’t just a feeling. It’s a decision you choose to make. A promise to love each other forever, no matter what.’
The room had descended into complete silence.
Scott remained looking at Ben and Amy. ‘And for love to last it requires patience, strength and commitment. The ability to deal with pain and disappointment.’ He placed his hand on Ben’s shoulder. ‘Loving someone and being loved requires courage. Something you’ve shown you both have in bucket loads.’ After a long pause, and when no one made to move, Scott added, ‘Er, that’s all, folks.’
Everyone spontaneously applauded.
Looking relieved, Scott smiled. When the noise eased, he added, ‘It’s amazing what you can find on the internet.’
Everyone laughed.
Scott pulled out an envelope from his suit jacket. ‘One last thing and then I’ll shut up.’ He addressed his nephew. ‘I know you and Amy want to travel before heading off to university next year. I thought I’d give you a hand.’ He passed the envelope to Ben. ‘You leave at 8 a.m. Monday morning. Enjoy Australia, mate.’
This announcement was followed by delighted applause, laughter, and Ben and Amy flinging their arms around Scott, nearly sending him toppling over backwards.
Evie dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Scott hadn’t needed her help. His speech had been perfect. He was without doubt the ‘best man’.
After the meal, the staff moved the tables, setting up for the evening disco. At several moments during the course of the day, Scott’s inquisitive eyes had searched for her, seeking her out amongst the guests, but she’d purposefully kept her distance. She hadn’t wanted him to feel she needed looking after. She’d been fine by herself. And besides, it had been good practice. She needed to stop hiding in shadows and return to socialising. This way she’d been forced to mingle with the other guests and chat to strangers, something she’d avoided doing for so long. It was strangely empowering, if somewhat exhausting. Consequently, by nine o’clock she was happy to find a quiet spot in the corner and relax.
Disco lights spun around the room, casting the tipsy dancers in a flickering red and purple glow. The DJ offered up an eclectic mix, the music ranging from the Grease soundtrack to Bruno Mars. Ben and Amy’s school friends led the dancing. The bride had tossed her bouquet, the cake had been cut, and the couple had shared their first dance to Christina Perri’s ‘A Thousand Years’. Throughout it all, Evie had deftly kept her distance from Scott, allowing herself time to prepare for the next twist in the tale of their relationship. For there had been another development. One that could change her future … and his.
‘You’ve been avoiding me.’ Scott’s voice startled her, sending a ripple of goosebumps running up her spine. He straddled the chair next to her, holding two champagne flutes.
She accepted the offer of a glass of bubbly. ‘Guilty as charged.’
He looked concerned. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Absolutely.’ Evie sipped the champagne, wrinkling her face when the bubbles tickled her nose. ‘I just didn’t want to get under your feet. This was a big day for you as well as the happy couple.’
He rested his arms on the back of the chair. ‘True, but I wanted you to be a part of it.’
She smiled. ‘I’m having a great time.’ She took another mouthful of champagne. He watched her, his dark eyes laced with a combination of sentiment and lust. Her tummy clenched. ‘You know, your speech really had an effect on me.’
His eyes travelled down her body, over her legs, settling on her feet. ‘And your shoes are really having an effect on me.’ Evie could almost feel the heat radiating from his gaze as his eyes lifted to hers. ‘You look beautiful, Evie.’
‘Thank you.’ She suddenly felt shy, an emotion she hadn’t experienced in a long while. ‘Laura loaned me the dress and shoes. I didn’t have anything fancy enough to wear to a wedding.’
‘You’re gorgeous, whatever you wear.’ And then he shook his head. ‘Sorry. I’m not supposed to be coming on to you. Business partners only.’ He shrugged and took a slug of champagne. ‘So where’s Marlon?’
‘Laura has him. She’s practising her babysitting skills.’ Evie knocked back her drink. It was no good, she couldn’t procrastinate any longer. Who was she trying to kid? In his speech Scott had spoken about love being about making a decision, taking control, having faith, being courageous. She needed to take heed, be brave, seize the moment …
‘You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?’ He nodded to her empty glass.
‘Pardon me?’ And then she realised he was referring to her drinking. ‘Oh, no, you’re safe. I haven’t reached the giggling stage yet.’
He laughed. ‘Followed by slurring, right?’ He pretended to look serious. ‘Repeat after me … I’m not a pheasant plucker …’
Evie laughed. Champagne raced to her head in a whoosh. ‘I’d get it wrong with or without alcohol.’
The disco lights switched from frantic pulsating to a solitary spin, the glitter ball casting the room in a soft pink glow. The music changed tempo. Slow-dance time. Richard Hawley’s ‘Heart of Oak’ began playing. One of Evie’s favourites.
Summoning all her courage, Evie nodded to the dance floor. ‘Would you like to dance?’
Scott raised an eyebrow. ‘You know that involves touching?’
She stood up and offered him her hand. ‘I know.’
The conflict on his face was evident. ‘Shouldn’t we wait for something more upbeat? You know, “Baggy Trousers” or “Living on a Prayer”? Something mates might dance to?’
She shook her head. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
‘Sounds ominous.’ He took her hand.
Her body reacted as expected to the feel of his hand, heighten
ing the moment. His skin was hot, his palms roughened from manual work.
She led him onto the dance floor. A few guests congratulated him on his speech, commenting on how well the day was going. He thanked them, but Evie could sense his discomfort. He didn’t like being the centre of attention any more than she did.
She placed her hands on his shoulders. ‘You must be so proud of Ben.’
‘I am.’ He stepped closer, increasing the intensity. ‘He’s a good kid.’
In heels her face was almost level with his. ‘It was nice of you to include Amy in your speech, seeing as her dad wasn’t here.’ She noted his wide shoulders, the shadow of stubble across his chin. ‘Very thoughtful.’
He slid one arm around her waist, the other removed her hand from his shoulder and drew it into his chest. She could feel his heart beating … Or was it hers? Maybe it was the bass of the music? Either way, she relished the sensation of swaying in time to the song, her body fitting perfectly with his.
‘You had a question for me?’ His voice was soft, his breath warm against her ear.
With slight trepidation, she looked at him. ‘So … the thing is, I had a phone call this morning from a customer of mine, Mrs Bitar. Her husband heads up the loan department at Harrods bank.’ Evie could feel her body begin to shake, as if she were cold. She wasn’t. It had to be nerves. ‘I applied to them for a loan a while back and they turned me down. But it seems Mr Bitar has reconsidered his decision in light of my competition win … and incessant nagging from Mrs B, I’m sure.’ She tried to laugh, but Scott’s frown killed the noise in her throat. She swallowed. ‘Anyway, the thing is …’ The shaking increased. ‘The … the thing is, I won’t be needing that loan from you any more.’
Scott stopped dancing. He looked at her. No, stared would be a more accurate description. Oh dear. Somehow their close proximity seemed even more intimate when they weren’t dancing. His face radiated disappointment. Hers radiated heat, panic and an urge to explain before he walked away.
Evie swallowed. ‘It was such a kind offer. I’m more grateful than I can tell you, but I would prefer to buy The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop using a loan from the bank than accept your money.’
After what felt like an eternity, he sighed. ‘That’s a shame.’
Her hand gripped his shoulder, as if willing him to stay put. ‘Well, it is and it isn’t.’
He raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘I think we should date.’ She blurted it out, wishing she’d thought to lower her voice. A few heads turned. She kept her eyes locked over his shoulder. She didn’t want to see his expression. ‘The only reason I said no before was because … Well, you know why. The thing is, I like you. And I’m hoping you like me and the offer of us getting together is still on the table … Which I hope it is, seeing as you only asked me on Wednesday and today is Friday. So I’m figuring you might not have changed your mind. Or maybe you have, and—’
‘Take a breath, woman.’ He was laughing.
‘Sorry. Sorry.’ Evie drew in some air, easing the sensation of light-headedness. When he didn’t offer any kind of response to her ramblings, she added, ‘Any thoughts about my proposal?’
He took his time answering, his laughter fading to a concerned expression. ‘You said you only “think” we should date? You’re not one hundred per cent sure?’
Evie wished she’d drunk more champagne. ‘Well, despite what that doctor bloke wrote, there are no guarantees in love. Even if you do have courage and faith and all that other stuff.’
He tilted his head to look at her. ‘Love?’
She nodded. ‘It would appear that way, yes.’ She took comfort from his slow smile. ‘Couples start out with the best of intentions, but life gets in the way. You know that more than most.’
He nodded, his smile still in place. ‘I do, but that’ll never happen to us.’
She wanted to believe him. ‘But how can you be so certain?’
He smiled. ‘Because for us the fuchsia’s bright.’ There was a teasing tone to his voice. ‘Get it? It’s a play on—’
‘The future’s bright. Yeah, I get it.’ She groaned. ‘That’s a terrible joke. But seriously, how can you know? It’s all very well to make a promise to love someone forever. But people have been making that promise for thousands of years only to change their minds when the going gets tough or someone better comes along. What can you promise me that will guarantee us a happy ever after?’
Scott laughed. ‘Blimey, you want me to solve the Middle East crisis too while I’m at it?’
Evie lowered her eyes, feeling foolish. ‘I’m being unfair, I know. I’m asking a lot. But I see the evidence every day in my job. The cycle of romance, the highs and lows, ending in divorce, death or betrayal. I tell Saffy not to be cynical, but who’s to say we won’t end up the same? Why will we be any different?’
He seemed to mull over the whole ‘life and universe’ question before answering. ‘How about this?’ He cleared his throat, suddenly serious. ‘You’re saying that, despite being a florist, the act of a man giving a woman flowers has negative connotations for you.’ He frowned. ‘Did I use the right word?’
She smiled. ‘You did, yes.’
He gave her a playful smile. ‘So, how about we try reverse psychology, or whatever it’s called.’
She raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘Meaning?’
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. ‘Meaning, that I, Scott Michael Castillo, plumber and currently of no fixed abode, hereby offer you, the soon to be owner of The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop, the promise that I will wholeheartedly and faithfully never, under any circumstances, ever buy you flowers … for as long as we both shall live.’
The weight in Evie’s stomach melted, like an ice cream left in the sun. ‘Oh my God. That’s genius.’
His smile reached his eyes. ‘I have my moments.’
And to think he doubted his intelligence. Scott Castillo was the smartest man she knew.
His expression softened. ‘I can’t promise to never buy you other stuff, especially as I’m rather flush at the moment, but I’ll steer clear of anything floral.’
She tried to look coy. ‘Perhaps the occasional pair of shoes?’
He glanced down at her feet, laughing. ‘Definitely shoes.’
And then he kissed her. And didn’t stop kissing her until Ben’s mates began whooping and yelling ‘Get a room!’
Scott drew back to look at her. ‘You know, they might have a point.’ His eyes drifted upwards. ‘And as luck would have it, I have a room booked in this very hotel.’
Evie feigned surprise. ‘You do? How very fortuitous.’ She leant into his chest, relishing all that solid muscle beneath his suit, remembering how good it had felt to be pressed against it. She wanted that again. She wanted it now. ‘What are we waiting for? Let’s go.’
Erich Fromm was right. Sometimes in life you just needed to make a decision.
Acknowledgements
A huge thank you to my gorgeous partner Simon, who not only supports my writing endeavours, but sends me back into the study when a deadline is looming and feeds me chocolate. To my amazing family, who have encouraged me never to give up and are as excited as I am to see my story published. Also, my fellow Clockhouse Writers, who’ve provided valuable critiques, inspiration, cups of tea and plenty of laughs over the years.
I’d like to thank Rachel from The Little Flower Pot in Sunninghill and Sandy from Diamond Nights & Days in Bagshot for letting me quiz them about running a florists and wedding dress shop. I didn’t write about any of your customers – I promise! A big thank you to the Maze team for taking a chance on me and supporting me through the publishing process. In particular, the lovely Ellie. Your enthusiasm and encouragement have been invaluable. I hope I’ve done you proud! Finally, a big thank you to Tina Betts, my wonderful agent, who saw potential in my writing and has stuck with me through the ups and downs – you have no idea how grateful I am.
If you e
njoyed The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop, turn the page to find out more about Tracy Corbett and her writing in an author Q&A
Author Q&A
What was your inspiration for The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop?
The story idea came from a discussion with a friend about the many reasons why people buy flowers. Whether it’s the blossoming of a new romance, a get well soon message, a wedding, a birthday, or an apology – there’s always a story waiting to unfold. Being a florist also requires the art of discretion, as sometimes you uncover secrets about people’s lives and learn things you’d rather not know. The perfect ingredients for story plotting.
What did you enjoy most about writing this novel?
I loved switching voices, building each character’s plotline as the story gained momentum until that defining moment when all the threads came together and the story reached its climax.
What advice do you have for aspiring authors?
As long as you keep writing there’s always a chance that you’ll achieve your goal. The minute you give up, it’ll never happen. So no matter how many knockbacks you experience, pick yourself and try again. After all, which would you rather live with, the possibility that your dream might come true … or the knowledge that it never will?
Where do you write your novels?
I write in a small box bedroom that we’ve converted into a retro study, complete with Audrey Hepburn wallpaper, a 1950s telephone and a massive desk so I can spread out and be ‘creative’. I love it!
Can you describe a typical working day?
I like to write a chapter or a scene in one sitting, so I try and start writing as early as I can so I can finish a rough draft by lunchtime. That way I can treat myself to a sneaky episode of Neighbours before returning to edit the scene in the afternoon.
Can you tell us a bit about your next novel?
My next story centres around the wonderful world of amateur dramatics. The main character is a high-flying interior designer who enjoys a ‘perfect’ orderly life, but when she’s fired from her job and her boyfriend leaves her, she’s forced to spend time with her family in Cornwall, where life is anything but orderly. Her plan is simple: relax, regroup, and return to her perfect world ASAP. But things unravel when she’s roped into designing the set for A Midsummer Night’s Dream, her sister’s debts spiral out of control, and she falls for a guy who’s having a mid-life crisis aged twenty-seven! It’s far from ideal, but as the summer progresses and her attachment to the place and its inhabitants strengthens, she realises that maybe a happy life isn’t always a perfect one.
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