My Kind of Happy - Part Three: A new feel-good, funny serial from the Sunday Times bestseller

by Cathy Bramley

  ‘Funny that your name didn’t come up on our database.’

  He didn’t respond straight away and when he did his voice was shaky. ‘There used to be a pet shop nearby.’

  My heart thumped against my ribs; it was him. ‘There still is. Biddy still owns it.’

  ‘I wonder …’ He hesitated and in that space I could almost feel how torn he was; the guilt and the joy and the hope.

  ‘Yes …?’ I prompted eagerly.

  ‘Nigel? You on the phone? There’s a lady at the door with a casserole,’ I heard a female voice in the background. It sounded like his sister who’d been at the undertaker’s with him. The one who hadn’t seemed overly fond of Nigel’s wife.

  ‘Thanks again,’ said Nigel, hurriedly.

  ‘Well, you know where we are,’ I said quickly as he ended the call.

  Had he been on the verge of asking me to give Biddy a message, I wondered, or even better sending her some flowers? I made a note of his number and typed it into the new database. Should I tell Biddy that his wife had passed away, or should I leave Nigel to make his overture towards her in his own time? The latter, I decided; this wasn’t my story, it was theirs and if Nigel no longer felt the same way about Biddy, she’d have her hopes raised only to have them dashed again.

  At ten o’clock that night I put clean sheets on the bed and dived under the covers, sighing with pleasure at the unique sensation that only fresh bedding can deliver.

  Scamp took my sigh as an invitation and scooted up closer until I could feel his hot breath on my arm.

  ‘You do know that sleeping on my bed is only a temporary arrangement, don’t you?’ I said. I didn’t know how he did it, but he seemed to make himself double in length and girth at night-time and he took up far more than fifty per cent of the space.

  Scamp opened one eye and gave me a smug look.

  I laughed and stroked his ears. ‘I guess I’ll just have to hope that when I meet the man of my dreams, he likes dogs.’

  As I turned out the bedside light and my mind started to quieten, I couldn’t help but wonder who exactly was the man of my dreams? An image of someone with golden hair, gentle eyes and a warm laugh popped into my head and I squeezed my eyes shut. Biddy had fallen in love with a man who couldn’t be hers and if I wasn’t careful, I could end up making the same mistake.

  Chapter Five

  I sat on a stool behind the counter hugging my knees happily, watching Sam unload his car. It was the Saturday evening of the cricket club workshop; I didn’t think I’d looked forward to anything quite so much for months. All the other shops had closed up for the weekend except for Ken’s Mini Mart on the other side of the green, where Sam had just been to stock up.

  I’d been hoping for a warm balmy evening so that we could have all the doors open. But despite being mid-June, the temperature had dropped and we’d had rain earlier. Now a brooding sky meant we had to have all the shop lights on. The weather didn’t seem to have had any impact on Sam’s choice of outfit; a T-shirt and cargo shorts which showed off his toned arms and legs and broad chest and in the dove grey light, his tan looked deeper than ever.

  ‘Have you got enough booze, do you think?’ I teased as he carried in a second case of beers from the boot of his car.

  He’d already proudly laid out a selection of artisan snacks in the back of the shop, talking me through each one. There was a platter of serrano ham and various different salamis, dishes of olives and cheese and nuts, all very upmarket. It looked like the scene was being set for a party rather than a flower-arranging session.

  ‘I hope so,’ he said, pulling a face. ‘I’ll be in trouble if we haven’t. The only drivers are me and Tom. The other eight will put these away and all the food.’

  Of the squad of fourteen, only ten could make it this evening, which was probably just as well; it was going to be a squash around the table as it was. Even now when it was just Sam here, I was acutely aware of his maleness; goodness knows how it was going to feel with ten men like him in the shop. Rather nice, probably, I thought, smiling to myself.

  ‘And I thought cricket was all polite clapping and cucumber sandwiches,’ I said.

  He raised an amused eyebrow. ‘Everyone thinks because we look so smart in our whites and we all sit down to tea together nicely with the other side, that we’re perfect gentlemen. When in truth, we can drink your average rugby team under the table.’

  He set the beer down on the floor and brushed his hair back off his face. I tried not to stare at the little dimple on his cheek or the golden stubble which highlighted his strong jaw, or the way the muscles in his back rippled beneath his shirt when he bent to stroke Scamp. I wondered instead whether Pandora, despite her exploits with ‘sexy tiger’ knew how lucky she was to have this handsome, capable, full-of-fun man in her life. I hoped so.

  ‘So you’re not gentlemen?’ I feigned shock. ‘I’m spending the evening with a bunch of hooligans? Now you tell me!’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure no one gets out of hand.’

  The earnest look on his face made my heart squeeze; this man was so caring and thoughtful.

  ‘I’m not in the least bit worried.’ I turned away from him in case my expression gave my feelings away and went to the big old wooden chest where we kept supplies. I took out all the scissors and secateurs we had and distributed them along the table. ‘They’ll have their hands full of flowers so they won’t be able to drink much.’

  ‘Flower arranging, who’d have thought it.’ Sam grinned and rested his hands on his hips, surveying the room. I watched him take it all in: the flowers set out in containers, the jute bags I’d bought in specially, the ribbon, the tissue paper. ‘I’ve known most of the lads since I was at school. Somehow we’ve become middle-aged without noticing.’

  ‘What do they all do?’

  ‘Apart from being particularly terrible at cricket? Did I tell you that by the way?’ he confessed. ‘What we lack in expertise we make up for in enthusiasm.’

  ‘Sounds like my floristry skills.’

  ‘Now you tell me,’ he said, mimicking my earlier comment.

  ‘Oi.’ I flapped a cloth at him.

  He jumped back, laughing and lifted his hands in defence. ‘Joke! They do all sorts: there are a couple of builders, a gardener, a surveyor, a PE teacher – that’s Tom, who’s driving them all here in the school minibus – a journalist and a lawyer.’

  I blinked at him. ‘Gosh. I’m quite nervous now.’

  Teaching Sam had been fun but a big group of them was a whole different ball game. Why had I agreed to it? Oh yes, because Sam had asked me and I had a feeling I could never say no to Sam.

  ‘Don’t be. They’ll love you,’ he reassured me. ‘None of them can arrange flowers to save their lives, so no matter what you do, you are the expert in their eyes. Our eyes. And whatever we produce is guaranteed to impress our ladies.’

  I tweaked a guard petal off a rose and folded it between my fingers. ‘Is everyone making bouquets for their wife or girlfriend?’

  He offered me a plump green olive and I took it, savouring the salty sourness. ‘I think so. Although Mikey is single, so who knows. Actually, he’s the only one you might have to watch after a couple of drinks.’

  I smiled. ‘Why’s that?’

  He popped a handful of nuts in his mouth and bent down to give Scamp some fuss. ‘Because he goes for the pretty ones.’

  ‘Oh.’ My heart skipped a beat and I felt the heat rise to my face but before I could think of a witty reply, a car horn sounded outside and a minibus pulled up alongside the kerb.

  ‘They’re here.’ Sam reached the door in three long strides, catching hold of Scamp’s collar before opening the door. He turned back to me. ‘Ready for this?’

  I pretended to roll up my sleeves and grinned. ‘Let’s do it.’

  As expected, the evening was loud, messy and a lot of fun and I was enjoying every second of it. As the noise levels had risen steadily so had the temperature i
n the shop. I propped open the back door and took in lungfuls of cool damp air.

  ‘Getting rowdy, are we?’ Tom the PE teacher looked over, concerned. ‘Some of these lads are worse than my year nines.’

  ‘Only in a good way,’ I replied, reassuring him.

  Despite Sam’s jokes earlier about heavy drinking, the cricket players behaved impeccably. They alternated between teasing each other, bemoaning their own efforts and secretly getting a kick out of how well they were all doing. Scamp was happy too, mooching about under the table for any dropped morsels.

  As well as making his own arrangement, Sam was doing a great job of helping me: clearing up empty beer bottles, sweeping the floor every so often to get rid of the debris from stripped and snipped stems and rushing to get cloths when the inevitable spillages occurred.

  So far Mikey was my favourite. He was quiet and earnest and determined to master spiralling the stems properly. I’d spent at least ten minutes helping him to work out where to place the flowers and not once did I get the impression that he was a flirt as Sam had implied. He didn’t have a girlfriend, he confided, but his mum always came to watch the cricket matches and she’d volunteered to make the tea tomorrow, so he was going to give the flowers to her.

  ‘Come along if you like?’ He had a boyish face, dark curly hair and friendly eyes which crinkled when he smiled.

  I’d never been to a cricket match, but the idea of spending Sunday afternoon in a deckchair watching this lot enjoy themselves had a certain appeal and I knew Scamp would enjoy being in the fresh air.

  ‘I might just do that,’ I replied. ‘But only if the sun shines.’

  He made a fist and I bumped mine against his.

  ‘Date,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘You’re not wasting any time, Mikey,’ said Sam, appearing between us. He slapped his friend on his back.

  I wondered if Pandora and the children would be at the match. If I saw Sam with his family, as a father and a husband, it might help cement him in my head as purely friend material. It had to be worth a try, I thought, feeling his gaze on me.

  ‘I’ve just been invited to the cricket tomorrow,’ I said brightly. ‘What do you think? Shall I come?’

  Sam’s eyes flicked to Mikey’s briefly and he shook his head. ‘You’d be bored. And if the weather stays like this, it’ll be cold.’

  ‘Oh. Well as I said, I might come, weather permitting,’ I said, disappointed. Sam clearly didn’t want me there. Perhaps he was simply trying to warn me off Mikey, although he seemed perfectly charming to me.

  ‘Speak for yourself, Diamond!’ Tom pretended to be insulted. ‘Come along, Fearne, my top spin has to be seen to be believed. Besides, my wife will be there and she’ll enjoy having someone new to talk to, to stave off the … er …’

  ‘Boredom?’ Sam finished for him and we all laughed.

  This camaraderie was something I missed, I realised. Summer evenings in Pineapple Road had meant parties for Freddie and me. We’d decide late on Saturday afternoon to invite a few people over and before we knew it, a party was in full swing. We had a garden shed that we’d converted into a Tiki bar and even though our garden was tiny, it became known as party central for our friends. Even Ethel had been known to join us for a tipple, with Scamp of course. I had very fond memories of her showing Freddie and Hamish how to do the quickstep to a Foo Fighters track. I thought about that parcel of foil sitting in my fridge with Sam’s special barbeque rub in it. It was time to let laughter back into the house …

  Sam murmured in my ear. ‘You OK?’

  My eyes were shining with tears. Everyone was looking at me. I ruffled my hair, trying to hide behind it.

  ‘I am actually!’ I said, smiling. ‘Now, how is everyone doing? Are you ready to tie your bouquets?’

  ‘No!’ said Archie plaintively. ‘How did you get the surface of yours to be all spherical?’

  I made my way around the table, relieved to escape the attention. ‘Don’t worry, everything is fixable.’

  ‘Except Tom’s nose,’ Richard sniggered. ‘That’s past redemption.’

  ‘Hey,’ Tom retorted, covering his nose with his hand. To be honest it did look as if it had been in the wars once or twice. ‘This is the nose of a multi-discipline sportsman.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Sam, ‘there isn’t a single sport in which Tom hasn’t managed to end up in a crumpled heap.’

  Everyone laughed and the mood lifted again.

  I focused on Archie’s bouquet; it did look a bit ragged, his line flowers sticking out and his focal flowers bunched up together.

  ‘Come here and look at your reflection,’ I beckoned him to the mirror.

  Someone started singing ‘here comes the bride’ as Archie posed in front of the mirror, clasping his hands in front of him.

  Henry took his phone out and took a photo. ‘One for the album.’

  ‘See these rabbit ears?’ I touched the matching stems of lisianthus he’d put each side of the arrangement. ‘Maybe move one of them to the front. Then space out the big roses a bit more.’

  ‘Got it,’ Archie beamed proudly. ‘That looks professional now.’

  ‘Watch out, Fearne,’ said Henry. ‘He’ll be after a job next.’

  The banter continued for a bit longer until I gave them a five-minute deadline to finish their bouquets which sent them into such a mad flap that I couldn’t stop myself from giggling. Then I showed them how to secure the stems with string and trim them to length. Soon the gift boxes were assembled, the flowers wrapped and the cellophane bags filled with water and everyone was choosing cards to write their own personal messages.

  ‘Anyone got a spare pen?’ Mikey asked, shaking the one I’d given him which appeared to have dried up.

  ‘There are plenty under the counter.’ I strode through the archway to fetch some.

  Archie slurped the dregs of his drink. ‘And are there any more beers, Sam?’

  Sam slapped him on the back. ‘Luckily for you, I stashed some emergency tinnies away.’

  He headed in my direction just as I bent to look on the shelf under the counter for more pens. I straightened quickly, aware that there wasn’t much room behind here.

  ‘Excuse me.’ Sam sucked his stomach in, touching my waist as he passed by. The move was ineffectual; he had a flat stomach anyway. I breathed in and caught the scent of him: fresh air and summer rain.

  ‘You smell nice.’ The words were out before I could stop them.

  ‘Ditto. You smell of flowers. Even your hair smells of flowers.’

  ‘Funny that.’ I smiled, conscious that he hadn’t moved past me. We were almost touching, my body so close to his that I could feel his heat. ‘You have white paint in your hair.’

  ‘You sure that’s not just my natural highlights?’ He felt his hair but missed the clump of paint stuck near his temple.

  ‘I’m sure. Here.’ I took his hand and placed his fingertips over the dried paint. ‘Can you feel it?’

  He cast his eyes down to where my shirt brushed against his T-shirt and looked up again, locking eyes with me. ‘Yes,’ he murmured softly.

  I could hardly breathe; I knew this could go nowhere, I knew I shouldn’t be feeling this way, but my body was betraying me, every nerve-ending attuned to his presence.

  ‘Good.’ I stepped aside, flustered suddenly.

  ‘Wait,’ he caught my hand. ‘You have something in your hair now.’

  I laughed. ‘Oh, so I have natural highlights.’

  ‘No, it’s yellow.’ He moved in closer, squinting. ‘I think it’s pollen.’

  ‘That’ll be the lilies. Occupational hazard.’ I raised my hand to my hair at the same time as him and our hands touched. I allowed my fingers to brush his, just for a moment, but it was enough to send my pulse racing.

  ‘Here.’ He passed me a tissue from the box on the counter.

  We both laughed nervously, smiling at each other. We were close, very close. He was married, I told myself. He loves Pandor
a. I tried to move away, to put some distance between us but I couldn’t, I was frozen to the spot. The air around us was charged. Did he feel it too?

  Chapter Six

  The moment lengthened between us; my heart thumping so loudly, I could hear it in my ears.

  ‘Where’s that beer?’ shouted Archie suddenly.

  ‘And my pen?’ Mikey added.

  A look of disappointment flashed across Sam’s face. ‘We’d better … um.’

  ‘Yes, definitely.’ I jolted myself back into action and laughed awkwardly.

  Before either of us moved, someone banged on the glass of the shop window, making us both jump.

  ‘Hold on!’ I called, pressing up against Sam’s chest as I squeezed by. ‘I should have put a notice saying private party on the door.’

  ‘I CAN SEE YOU IN THERE!’ a woman’s voice shouted through the glass. There was a blur of movement as whoever it was moved from the window to the shop door.

  ‘Oh rats,’ Sam muttered. ‘Now I’m in trouble.’

  ‘Why? What’s the matter?’

  ‘My wife has turned up,’ he said with a sigh. ‘That’s what. I recognise her dulcet tones.’

  I stared at the figure through the glass as I crossed the shop floor. Her hands were shielding her eyes so she could see in. A tight black outfit, blonde hair wound into a bun with sunglasses perched into it. I groaned inwardly and slowed my pace.

  It was the woman who’d reversed into the motorbike last week. The one I’d yelled at like a banshee. Sam’s wife.

  In my head I’d built a picture of a demanding, spoiled princess who twisted her long-suffering husband around her little finger. Now I could add selfish, unapologetic and unobservant to the list.

  ‘Are you going to open this door?’ Pandora yelled. ‘Or do I have to smash the glass with my shoe.’

  ‘I’m coming!’ I raced to the door to unlock it before she started to batter at it with her footwear.

  Sam quickly dumped the beers and pens on the work table for his friends, whose heads had all swivelled in our direction.

  ‘Busted, mate,’ said someone with a chuckle.