‘Worth stalking?’
‘I think so.’
We followed the stag party to the next pub.
‘So, what’s the plan here?’ Clare asked.
‘Another drink? I need a bit of Dutch courage before I speak to him.’
‘You’d better not be bottling it.’
‘I’m here, aren’t I?’
‘I can’t believe it’s the third pub,’ Clare said half an hour later, ‘and you haven’t made the slightest move. I’d forgotten how crap you are at all of this.’
She was right. I could probably fill a billboard poster with a list of all my failed flirting attempts over the years. ‘I’m going to screw this up, aren’t I? Help.’
‘I think you need the charm of the Irish. Let the professionals do the work.’
Standing awkwardly on my own against a mirrored pillar, clutching my empty glass and wishing I didn’t look so conspicuous, I watched Clare approach Steve Dennison and say something in his ear. He looked surprised and turned in my direction. He shook his head and said something to Clare. Oh God, he doesn’t like the look of me. I want to leave. Right now.
There was another exchange of words, Steve looked across again, shook his head once more and shrugged. Clare said something else, they both laughed, then she returned to me.
‘It can’t be good or you’d have shouted me over,’ I said.
‘Well, I pointed you out—’
‘And he thought I was ugly? Or fat? Or both?’
‘Don’t interrupt and of course he didn’t think you were ugly or fat. You’re gorgeous and you’ve lost weight since you moved here, not that you were fat before.’ She looked at me sternly. ‘You have to stop putting yourself down.’
I shrugged. ‘What did he say?’
‘He thought you looked lovely.’
‘But?’
‘But he met someone else online. They met up on Tuesday and he’s meeting her in the next pub. He says he’s really sorry but he assumed you weren’t interested when you didn’t message him back.’
‘Did you explain that I’d only just picked up his message?’
‘Yes, but he seems keen on this other girl.’
‘You’re the PR expert. Couldn’t you have come up with something?’
‘Like what? I wasn’t going to beg him to date you.’
Fair point. ‘What were you laughing at?’
‘I made some daft comment about his costume which tickled him.’
‘You were flirting with him?’
Clare grabbed her drink and took a swig. ‘I know you’re upset so I’ll ignore the implication.’
I stood quietly for a few moments, fidgeting with my watchstrap. ‘Sorry, Clare. I didn’t mean that. Would you mind if we called it a night?’
She shook her head. ‘We can leave this pub but we’re not going home while you’re upset.’
‘I’m not upset. I’m just… Oh, I don’t know.’
‘Maybe you’re not upset but you’re disappointed, so you are. And I know you’ll be taking it personally, even though he thinks you look lovely and the only reason he’s not interested is bad timing.’ She moved my head so she could look me in the eye. ‘It’s not about you, Sarah. It’s circumstances. You are taking it personally, aren’t you?’
‘I can’t help it.’
‘Which is why we’re not going home where I know you’ll brood and convince yourself you’re fat, ugly, will never get married and have children, and will end up a mad spinster with cats.’
‘Am I really that predictable?’
‘You’ll meet the right person; I’m sure of it. Just don’t expect it to be instant and do expect there to be knocks along the way. What’s that bollocks they say about the path to true love never running smoothly or something like that?’
I smiled and wiped at the tears that were about to run down my cheeks. Clare reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘Let this be a lesson to you, though,’ she said.
‘In what?’
‘Checking your messages more often. If you’re serious about finding Steven, you need to be on the ball. If you’re going to do it half-heartedly, you may as well go back to hoping he’ll walk into the shop one day.’
I nodded. It was true. You snooze, you lose.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Where to next? Where do all the hotties hang out in Whitsborough Bay?’
‘God knows. I haven’t been on the pull here since I was eighteen.’
‘We still have a list to get through, haven’t we?’ Clare said as I steered her back up the precinct towards Minty’s. ‘Starting with the lovely Stéphan Marcell in the morning. And once we’ve exhausted the list, there are stacks more profiles we haven’t looked at and more Stevens in your favourites who haven’t contacted you so you can drop them all a message. Plenty more options.’
I stopped walking. ‘Do you really think I’ll meet someone special?’
‘I’m sure of it. He may not be on your current list and he may not even be on a dating site, but I’m absolutely convinced that, one day soon, you’ll meet someone who sweeps you off your feet – just like in the soppy movies you love so much – and you’ll get your happy ever after. I’m just not convinced he’ll be called Steven. In the meantime, why don’t you try and relax and enjoy the moment?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve just relocated back to somewhere you love but haven’t lived for twelve years and you’ve become the owner of what promises to be a grand business. Why not just take a while to enjoy being the new you?’
‘The new me?’
‘Sarah, the entrepreneurial florist instead of Sarah, the other half of a couple. What you’ve achieved in the past six weeks is amazing. Stop kicking yourself for being single and congratulate yourself for being successful.’
She had a point. A very good one. When did my two best friends become so wise? And when did I become so tunnel-visioned and obsessed with meeting The One at the expense of appreciating all the great stuff I had going for me? Things needed to change. I needed to change. I was nothing like Uncle Alan so I needed to stop obsessing about ending up like him.
21
‘One cappuccino and a skinny latte, please,’ I said in my friendliest, most cheerful voice as I leaned on the counter of The Coffee Corner on Saturday morning.
Stéphan Marcell was serving and he was lush. His online photo really didn’t do him justice. Deftly handling the espresso machine, he was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. His online profile said he was half-Portuguese, half-French. Stunning. Even more gorgeous than Stephen Lewis the plasterer. And this time there were no fluorescent green prams in sight.
‘Coffees.’ He slammed the paper cups on the counter. ‘Anything else?’
I flinched. ‘Er, yes, two croissants please.’ Hmm. Not so friendly. Nice accent, though.
‘Heated?’
‘Yes, please, if it’s not too much trouble.’
Without acknowledging me, he opened a small oven behind him. ‘Christ!’ he muttered before shouting, ‘Sammie! Here! Now!’
Clare and I exchanged concerned looks.
A young girl in her late teens burst through a door marked ‘staff only’ looking terrified.
‘What did I ask you to do last night?’
‘Clean the oven?’ She cast a sideways glance at us.
‘Does this fucking look clean to you?’ He shoved her towards the oven.
‘I cleaned it last night. I promise.’
‘Someone broke in last night and covered it in crap, did they?’
‘I don’t know how it got like that. I’m sorry. I’ll do it again now.’ Sammie headed for the staff only door again.
‘Where are you going now?’ Stéphan shouted.
‘To get a cloth.’
‘What’s this then? An arma-fucking-dillo?’ He picked up a cloth and threw it at her.
‘I didn’t see it there.’
‘That’s your problem, Sammie. You don’t see anything
. Like these customers you’ve kept waiting who I’ve had to serve. Didn’t see them, did you?’
The poor girl looked close to tears. ‘It’s okay,’ I piped up. ‘We’ll just take these.’ I dropped some coins on the counter and grabbed our drinks.
‘I’m guessing you won’t be messaging him?’ Clare said as we made a swift getaway.
‘Absolutely gorgeous. Absolutely amazing accent. Absolute git. Two down, five to go.’
Having Clare in the shop for the day was an eye-opener. Elise had been friendly and helpful with customers on opening day, but Clare was something different. She was a genuine asset to sales and I was fascinated to see that side of her in action. She could charm anyone and everyone, swiftly adapting her behaviour according to the age and gender of the customer. She managed to secure three wedding bookings, convince five or six customers to spend way more on bouquets than they’d planned, sell an additional product like a card or gift to about three quarters of the customers who’d only come in for flowers, and complete on several gift transactions where the customer was clearly browsing and would likely have left empty-handed without her intervention.
I printed off the impressive daily sales report after locking up and whistled. ‘Can you work here every day?’
She laughed. ‘You couldn’t afford me, but I’ll train you if you want.’
‘I could never be as brazen as you. Besides, I think it’s a lot to do with your accent and your personality. It wouldn’t work with me.’
‘It would. Yes, I play on the cheeky blonde Irish thing, but it’s about reading people and saying the right things, all of which can be taught. With a few lessons from me, you could be a pro by Easter.’
‘Would you really do that for me?’
‘Of course. I know you’re going to be a huge success anyway, but if I can help in any way, I’m more than happy to.’
‘You’re on.’
‘So what do you want to do tonight?’ I said as we walked back to Seashell Cottage. ‘Takeaway and film?’
‘No way. We’re going on a double date.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. As you said this morning, it’s two down, five to go. So let’s contact one of the five when we get home and see if he has a nice single mate he can drag out tonight.’
‘I thought you said I should relax and enjoy the business more.’
Clare laughed. ‘You should. But it doesn’t mean you have to call off the search for Steven. Just don’t get so obsessed with it that you ignore the amazing things you’re doing in your day job and don’t get so stressed about the disappointments along the way because they’re inevitable.’
Who was I to argue with such logic? A double date with a Steven it was.
‘I can’t believe you’ve talked me into this.’ I pulled my coat tightly around me as we walked from Seashell Cottage into town for the second night in a row. I reached into my pockets for my gloves and gratefully thrust my icy fingers into the soft fleece.
‘Stop moaning. We’ll have a great time. And stop being such a wimp; it’s not that cold.’ As Clare spoke, her breath hung in the air. ‘Okay. I lied. It’s bloody freezing. But I’m not lying when I say we’ll have a great craic.’
We were meeting Stevie Barnes from Little Sandby, a cute village about ten minutes north of Whitsborough Bay. According to his profile, he’d recently turned thirty-three. He’d married and divorced young, had one dog and no kids.
‘I’m nervous,’ I admitted.
‘There’s no need to be, especially when I’m here to hold your hand. I reckon you two will get on brilliantly. Although isn’t he the IT geek?’
I nodded. ‘Something to do with IT and publishing but he said on his profile that he won’t put off prospective dates by explaining it because it’s not that interesting.’
‘Just as long as he doesn’t try to explain it tonight or we may have to walk out. IT geeks bore the hell out of me.’
‘Most people bore the hell out of you.’
‘True. Which makes it odd that I’ve put up with you for so many years.’
‘Rude!’ I playfully whacked her with my bag.
The plan was to meet Stevie and his best mate Rob in Minty’s at eight. Stevie had messaged to say that Rob had recently moved back to the area after splitting up with his long-term partner. He was happy to make up the numbers providing Clare knew he wasn’t looking for a relationship.
As soon as we walked into Minty’s, I recognised Stevie from his photo online. He wasn’t gorgeous – just very pleasant-looking in a boy-next-door kind of way. He had short, sandy coloured hair, dark brown eyes, dimples when he smiled – something he did the second we walked through the door – and was slightly overweight, which suited him. I just hoped that, unlike Stéphan, he would have a pleasant personality to match his pleasant looks.
‘Sarah?’ He smiled warmly again and confidently placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. ‘I’m Stevie. It’s great to meet you. And you must be Clare?’ He kissed Clare too then introduced his friend. Rob was also very nice-looking rather than gorgeous, but the opposite of Stevie in colouring and build – a mop of dark wavy hair, blue eyes and a very toned-looking physique. He looked a lot like my brother.
‘Thanks for meeting us at such short notice,’ I said.
‘It’s our pleasure. Can I get you both a drink?’
‘He’s lovely,’ whispered Clare when the boys headed for the bar. ‘Nice one.’
‘First impressions are very positive. And his mate seems pretty nice too.’
‘Absolutely,’ Clare said. ‘Probably not Britain’s Next Top Model but you’ll hear no complaints from me. And if he needs some help getting over his relationship breakdown with no commitments, I’m the woman for him.’
‘You’re terrible. You should come with a warning.’
It was a lovely evening full of warmth and laughter. Before we left shortly after midnight, I arranged to meet Stevie again on Monday night for the cinema and drinks. He kissed me then Clare on the cheek again before heading in the opposite direction with Rob.
‘Disappointed?’ Clare linked my arm as we headed towards the Old Town.
‘With Stevie? No. He was great fun.’
‘I mean with not getting a goodnight kiss.’
I pondered for a moment. ‘Actually, no. It wouldn’t have seemed right. We were there as a group and it was good that way. What did you think of Rob?’
‘Seemed like a nice guy.’
‘Did you think he looked like my brother?’
‘I guess he did a bit,’ Clare said. ‘Did Saint Ben tell you we went for a curry when I was in Leeds last month?’ Clare had christened him ‘Saint Ben’ thanks to his charity job and all the volunteering work he did. In return, he always called her ‘Irish’ – highly original.
‘It’s becoming a bit of a regular thing, you and our Ben.’
‘Oh behave, you. Saint Ben has a girlfriend and, even if he didn’t, there’d be nothing going on. Your brother’s always been a good laugh and it’s nice to eat in company when you’re on the road as much as me. I’m spending more and more time with my Leeds-based client and I’d rather meet up with your brother than stare at a hotel TV all night. That’s all.’
‘Sorry. I was only joking.’
‘Food.’ Clare pulled me into a packed kebab shop. ‘Enough about Ben and back to tonight. Did you fancy Stevie?’
‘Not sure. He’s attractive, I enjoyed his company and we’ve got loads in common, but… I don’t know… I think there was something missing.’ It didn’t feel like it felt with Nick. But he had the right name, which was incredibly frustrating. ‘Maybe he’s not the Steven. Or maybe he is and I’ll fall for him slowly. Why do you ask?’
‘There was something about the two of you together that I couldn’t quite pinpoint and it just hit me what it was when you said Rob looked like Saint Ben. Watching you and Stevie was like seeing you and Ben together. You had that same easy banter.’
I mulled her ob
servation over. ‘You could be right. I guess we’ll see how it goes on Monday night. Maybe it will be different when it’s just the two of us.’
‘Maybe,’ Clare said. ‘Now, are you going to order anything cos I could kill a chicken kebab right now? I’ve got the munchies real bad.’
After the previous cinema fiasco with Steve Turner, I made sure I was on time for my date with Stevie. In fact, I was twelve minutes early. But so was he. We laughed as soon as we saw each other, since one of the things we’d discussed on Saturday night was our shared contempt for people who weren’t punctual.
‘How long have you been here?’ I said.
‘Seconds. Honest. I’ve got something for you.’ Stevie fished into his pocket and handed me a candy-striped paper bag.
I peeked in it. ‘You angel. You’ve bought me gummy bears.’
‘You said you liked them and I know the pick ‘n’ mix here doesn’t have them. Look what I’ve got.’ He pulled out another paper bag and opened it for me to take a peek.
‘Rhubarb and custards? Can we share?’
‘We certainly can. Ready to go in?’
I smiled as Stevie held the door open for me and asked me where I’d like to sit. What a contrast to my last cinema date.
‘This is me,’ I said as we arrived at Seashell Cottage after a quick post-film drink on the seafront. ‘I’ve not taken you too far out your way?’
‘I’m parked five minutes’ walk from here so it’s perfect.’
We looked at each other slightly awkwardly. Should I invite him in? I was tired, though. He’d understand. ‘It’s work tomorrow and it’s late. Would you think I’m rude if I don’t invite you in for coffee?’
‘I have to get home to walk Bonnie so it’s perfect for me,’ Stevie said. ‘I’ve had fun, though. Fancy doing it again soon?’
‘I’d love to.’
Stevie smiled, flashing his cute dimples. Adorable. But fanciable? I still wasn’t sure. He didn’t give me butterflies. Not like Nick.
‘I’ve got a couple of things on at the end of the week,’ he said. ‘Is Wednesday too soon?’
New Beginnings at Seaside Blooms Page 15
