The Tanglewood Flower Shop

by The Tanglewood Flower Shop (retail) (epub)

  Leanne tried to be diplomatic. ‘He knows his stuff,’ she began, as the pair of them made their way back to the table.

  ‘I should bloody well hope so, considering he’s one of the judges,’ Tia interjected. ‘I’m not interested in the professional stuff. What’s he like as a person?’

  ‘Confident, very sure of himself. Good-looking.’

  ‘I can see that for myself; he’s always in the gossip columns,’ Tia said. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

  ‘He’s a good cook.’

  Tia’s eyes became as large as the beer mats their drinks rested on. ‘Aren’t you a sly one?’ she said as Leanne slipped into her seat.

  ‘What’s she up to now?’ Stevie wanted to know, and before Leanne could shush her, Tia said, ‘Leanne has been seeing Jarred Townsend.’

  ‘Really! Ooh, what’s he like?’ Stevie asked.

  ‘He’s a good cook,’ Tia said.

  ‘He is?’ Stevie raised her eyebrows.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Leanne admitted.

  ‘You just said he was,’ Tia protested.

  ‘He hasn’t actually cooked for me, so I’ve only got his say-so to go on.’

  ‘But you’d like him to, right?’ Stevie insisted.

  ‘Not really,’ Leanne said, but her face felt hot, and she knew she was blushing.

  While the others fired questions at her – questions she was unwilling or unable to answer – she noticed that Rex wasn’t joining in.

  As she tried to turn the conversation away from her imaginary love life, she came to the conclusion that maybe it was best if he did believe she was interested in someone else. At least then he wouldn’t think she had the hots for him, when he so obviously wasn’t interested in her.

  Chapter 22

  Rex couldn’t get Leanne out of his mind, and he was seriously annoyed about it. Forget about her, he told himself as he stuffed a pair of waterproof trousers into his rucksack. She was seeing someone else, someone far more interesting than him. Someone who could offer her much more than a mere park ranger could. Someone who knew his daisies from his marigolds.

  Wondering what else he’d need for today, he became even more annoyed as he couldn’t remember what he’d already packed. See, that was another reason why he should stop thinking about Leanne Green – she made him lose concentration at a time when he needed to focus. He was joining the Mountain Rescue team for another training exercise, and as he crossly checked the contents of his rucksack, he tried once more to think about something else.

  Catching Nell’s expectant expression, he immediately felt guilty he wasn’t able to take her with him.

  As usual when he went out without his dog, he ensured she had plenty of water, that her biscuit bowl was full and that a selection of toys and chews were scattered across the floor to keep her happy. But he knew she wouldn’t be truly content until he returned. She wasn’t old enough to begin her rescue dog training yet, so he had no choice but to go to the session today on his own. Reluctantly, because he hated leaving her by herself for any length of time, he closed the kitchen door on her reproachful little face.

  He took the road to Brecon and then onto the A470, which would lead him to the Storey Arms, an outdoor centre at the base of Pen y Fan. On a rainy Monday, the car park near the centre was only half full. The fair-weather walkers didn’t usually venture up the highest peak in South Wales on days like today, and only a few diehards would be out, so it was perfect weather for a search-and-rescue practice mission.

  Clouds hung low, obscuring the upper slopes of the mountains, and fog was coming in fast, scudding like dragon’s breath along the valley floor. The temperature wasn’t much above freezing; at these altitudes it was common to have severe frost or even snow around Easter, whereas nearer the coast it could be a balmy twelve degrees Celsius and sunny. It was the changeability of the weather and the deceptive ruggedness of the terrain that Rex especially enjoyed, and he was really looking forward to today.

  The other team members greeted him like an old friend, and he realised how much he’d missed this kind of camaraderie. The awkwardness he’d felt last night with Leanne and her friends – although they’d done their best to include him – dropped away. Here he was in familiar territory, with like-minded people, in the mountains he was beginning to love; he felt instantly calmer, as if nature herself had thrown a comforting blanket over his shoulders.

  While the rescuee went off to find somewhere to hide, Rex and the rest of the team loitered near the tuck van in the car park, enjoying cups of builder’s tea and stuffing their faces with bacon butties smeared with HP sauce while they waited for their cue.

  The usual scenario for a real rescue was that the team would have a location or a ‘last seen’ to work towards, and today they intended to replicate that situation. As soon as the casualty radioed she was ready, they set off.

  Rex stayed towards the back, observing everything carefully, especially the search-and-rescue dog. The English springer spaniel’s tail hadn’t stopped wagging from the moment Rex had set eyes on it. The dog repeatedly dashed to the end of its lead, casting around for a scent. Every now and again it would stop to cock its head, its nose twitching, then it was off again, dragging its handler up the track.

  Rex had read up on search-and-rescue dogs, and he knew they could accomplish the work of twenty to thirty humans with their boundless energy, their incredible sense of smell and hearing and their better night vision. They especially came into their own in the mountains, when it was so easy for walkers to become disorientated in low cloud and wander off the path. It didn’t take long for someone to develop hypothermia up here, and time became even more critical if that person was injured.

  Rescue scenarios varied immensely, and the team tried to practise for all eventualities. A typical one was receiving a report that someone hadn’t made it home when they were supposed to, which meant the dog had to track by scent. But today they were practising an accident situation, and having been told over the radio that the ‘casualty’ had fallen off Corn Du, a sister peak to Pen y Fan that was notorious for its steep, rocky drops, especially on its western flank, the team left the path and headed out through the tussocky grass and clumps of heather.

  There, the going was harder. Familiarity with the terrain didn’t necessarily prevent a misstep, which could result in a twisted or broken ankle. No one wanted to be a casualty for real, so the pace slowed accordingly.

  The dog became more focused as the hikers on the path behind them faded from view, and although his tail still wagged nineteen to the dozen, it was clear to see he knew the real work had started.

  They’d travelled only two hundred yards or so from the path, and already it could no longer be seen. They were in the clouds and the going became even slower, the team leader stopping every so often to check his GPS.

  The casualty had been given instructions not to shout for help, thus making it harder for the dog, and Rex guessed that another twenty minutes or so went by before they reached her approximate location. She should be around here somewhere.

  He watched in fascination as the dog handler unclipped the lead from the spaniel’s harness and let him loose. It was too dangerous for the rescuers to wander around so close to the treacherous slope, but once they had a firm location, they could clip together and make the descent. Setting the dog free was a wise move. The canine was much more sure-footed than any human, and could cover three or four times the distance in the same amount of time.

  Rex quickly lost sight of the spaniel and waited anxiously until it reappeared. Trained to cast out and come back repeatedly, the dog didn’t seem to tire; when it failed to return after the seventh attempt, however, he began to worry. Not even dogs were invincible.

  A faint bark reached them and everyone paused to listen.

  ‘He’s found her,’ the dog handler said, but when Rex began to move off in the direction of the noise, the man added, ‘Wait. Blue will come back and guide us in.’

 
Indeed, he’d no sooner finished speaking than the dog emerged from the mist and halted, one paw lifted, his head cocked to the side. He barked again.

  ‘Lead us to her, boy,’ the handler said. ‘Find, Blue, find.’

  Blue found, dashing ahead then returning to the group until eventually he led them to the casualty, who was lying immobile in the grass pretending to be unconscious. Not an inconceivable situation.

  Rex watched as the dog raced over to the woman and lay down beside her, crawling as close as he could and waiting for his handler to tell him what a good and clever boy he was.

  The spaniel received his reward – a favourite toy – and as the team assessed the ‘injured’ woman and made pretend calls to base, the dog and his handler stepped aside, their work for the day done. Rex studied the way the woman was lifted onto the spinal board, then he took his turn carrying her down the mountain. They had to be extremely careful not to cause her any more damage, since there was no knowing just how badly injured she was, so the hike back down wasn’t nearly as easy as he’d assumed it would be.

  Every so often the casualty would tell him he needed to keep his end of the spinal board up, to hold her as level as possible in case of back or neck injury. By the time they crossed the wooden bridge over the little river that ran alongside the car park, his shoulders and arms were on fire.

  Bloody hell, that had been hard.

  ‘You did good, mate,’ the team leader said, clapping him on the back. ‘A couple more of these and you’ll be ready to go out with us for real. Coming for coffee and cake?’

  It was a bit of a tradition after a rescue or a training session, and as Rex slid behind the wheel of his car, he felt he was really becoming accepted as part of the community. It felt good.

  Now all he had to do was to forget a certain pair of brown eyes and he could be content.

  Easier said than done, though, wasn’t it?

  Chapter 23

  It was no good, Leanne couldn’t forget the feel of Rex’s arms around her, the taste of his lips on hers or the smell of his aftershave. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get him out of her head.

  She’d not seen him since the evening with Stevie and Tia last week, and it wasn’t as though she’d spent a great deal of time in his company prior to that, but she missed him, darn it. Not just because of his ideas, either – although she could certainly use his unique take on things right now.

  Should she give him a call? She could use the excuse that she wanted to pick his brains… or maybe not, because he might think the only time she contacted him was when she wanted something.

  Perhaps she could suggest dinner, or drinks, or even a coffee. Would he accept, and if he did would he be agreeing simply out of friendship and inherent good manners? Or would he give her some lame excuse and refuse? She didn’t know which would be worse. Besides, he wasn’t interested, so she’d only be torturing herself, and she’d told herself more than once that she needed to focus on the competition; everything else was a distraction.

  Desperate to get away from the shop for a couple of hours, she left the increasingly competent Mabel in charge and nipped to the bank.

  With the business stuff taken care of, and not wanting to return to work just yet, she decided to call into Peggy’s. Stevie was level-headed and could always be counted on to give good advice. If Leanne decided to confide in her, that is.

  To her disappointment, Stevie wasn’t there and neither was Cassandra. Betty was in charge and loving every second of it.

  ‘Cassandra’s gone into labour,’ she announced with excitement when Leanne asked about her friend. ‘Stevie’s taking her to the hospital.’

  ‘What about Aiden?’

  ‘They can’t get hold of him. He’s probably in his workshop with that noisy saw of his going full blast. It’s a girl,’ Betty added.

  ‘Oh, she’s actually had it, has she?’ Leanne asked.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘How do you know it’s a girl then?’ Leanne knew full well that neither Cassandra nor her husband wanted to know the gender of the baby. ‘Or do you think it’s because she’s carrying it low, or high, or something?’

  ‘Pish, all those things are old wives’ tales,’ Betty said dismissively.

  ‘So how do you know? Crystal ball?’

  Betty’s face closed up and she heaved a sigh. ‘Summat like that,’ she muttered as she stomped back to the counter to fulfil Leanne’s order of a pot of tea and a scone.

  Leanne smiled. Betty had a reputation for being slightly eccentric, and making comments like that only served to play to her audience. She was as daft as a box of frogs, but there wasn’t any harm in her. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Betty, neither Tia nor Stevie would be arranging their weddings right now.

  When she returned to Leanne’s table with her order, the old woman was wearing an entirely different expression. ‘That ranger man was in here earlier,’ she said.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘He’s nice.’ Betty plonked her skinny frame down in a chair and stole a bit of Leanne’s scone, chewing noisily.

  ‘Yes, he is,’ Leanne agreed politely, careful to keep her face blank.

  ‘You’d make a perfect couple,’ the old woman said, ‘if you can sort yourselves out.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Leanne paused in the middle of spreading jam on a scone.

  ‘It’s cream first, then jam,’ Betty pointed out. ‘Everyone knows that.’

  ‘I like jam first, and it’s my scone.’ Leanne playfully slapped Betty’s reaching fingers away. ‘Get one of your own.’

  ‘It’s the last one,’ Betty said. ‘I’d make some more but my rheumatism is playing up summat awful.’

  ‘Oh, sorry. Here, you have it. I’ll have something else.’

  ‘Don’t want it now you’ve done it wrong. Cream first, then jam.’

  Leanne rolled her eyes.

  ‘It’s that kind of attitude that will drive your young man away,’ Betty stated.

  ‘I haven’t got a young man.’

  ‘Ah, but you have, if you only knew it.’ Betty’s eyes twinkled.

  ‘I haven’t. He’s not interested.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘I know.’ Leanne put down the knife she had been wielding, her appetite suddenly gone.

  ‘How do you know? Has he said?’ Betty asked.

  ‘No, but look, I’ve no idea why I’m discussing this with you.’

  ‘Oh, I think you do,’ Betty replied calmly. She hauled herself to her feet and Leanne assumed the bizarre conversation was at an end.

  No such luck. Betty returned with a cup and saucer, and proceeded to pour herself some tea. Leanne watched in fascination as the old lady transferred half the contents of her cup into the saucer, blew on the liquid, then proceeded to suck it up, smacking her lips in appreciation as she did so. She wondered why Betty had bothered with the cup in the first place.

  ‘Right,’ Betty said when she had drained her saucer. Actually, the slurping noises she’d made sounded remarkably like a drain themselves. ‘You like him, he likes you. What’s the problem?’

  Leanne pursed her lips. ‘For one thing, I don’t like him. I mean, I do,’ she amended hastily, ‘but not like that. Two, Rex doesn’t like me. Like me like me, I mean.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Betty asked again.

  ‘Women know these things,’ Leanne replied loftily.

  ‘Pah! That’s a load of old tosh if ever I heard it. You’re too young to know your arse from your elbow. Wait until you get to my age, then you can say you know things. You clearly don’t know anything.’

  Leanne finally lost patience. ‘Look, he kissed me, OK? Then he regretted it.’

  ‘Did he say he regretted it? What sort of kiss was it? Did he—’

  ‘Hold it there, Betty. I’m not going to discuss Rex McMillan’s kissing technique with you.’

  ‘Oh dear, it was that good, was it? You’ve sure got it bad, my lovely.’

  ‘No. I. Haven’
t.’ Leanne gritted her teeth so hard she thought it might take her dad’s crowbar to prise her jaws open.

  ‘If you like him that much, do something about it,’ Betty said.

  ‘I don’t like him that much. He’s not too keen on me either, not in that way… Wait a minute.’ Leanne leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. ‘How do you know how he feels about me? Has he said something?’

  Betty examined her empty saucer. ‘He might have.’

  ‘What’s he said?’ Leanne demanded.

  ‘That would be telling.’

  ‘Betty…’ Leanne’s growl sounded remarkably like Nell’s doggy ones.

  ‘Are you going to eat that scone, or are you just going to look at it all afternoon?’ Betty asked.

  ‘Have it.’ Leanne pushed the plate towards the old woman, who dived on it like a gannet who hadn’t seen a herring for a week. ‘And stop trying to change the subject. You started this, you’re going to have to finish it.’

  Through a mouthful of baked goods Betty retorted, ‘I could say the same about you.’

  ‘What do you mean? I didn’t start anything. He kissed me!’

  ‘He doesn’t like you like you, but he kissed you anyway?’ the old lady gloated. ‘Explain that.’

  ‘I can’t. It was a mistake, an accident. I could tell he regretted it straight away.’

  ‘Was that before or after the tongues bit?’

  Leanne shook her head. The woman was incorrigible.

  ‘If he didn’t say he didn’t like it, how do you know he didn’t enjoy it as much as you did?’ Betty continued relentlessly.

  ‘Because he pushed me away.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Betty, you’re not making sense.’

  ‘Is he married?’ Betty asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Got a girlfriend?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then he’s not feeling guilty and he doesn’t want you just for sex, either.’

  ‘Betty!’

  ‘Well, he doesn’t. If he did, he’d have got on with it, and it would have been wham, bam, thank you, ma’am, can we do it again sometime?’