The Tanglewood Flower Shop

by The Tanglewood Flower Shop (retail) (epub)

  How could he have been so stupid to fall so heavily for her?

  He should have listened to his instinct when it had told him it was too soon to be dating again, that he should give himself some time and space to get used to being a single man and to free himself of Jules’s influence. A grunt of derision escaped him at that last thought – if he really was Lyall’s father, there was no way he would ever be free from Jules. As the mother of his child, she would always be in his life.

  He waited until Wednesday afternoon – a day when he knew Leanne would be on her way to London – before he ventured out into the village to take a stroll past the flower shop. He knew he was being silly and irrational, but although she mightn’t be there in body, he wanted to feel closer to her, and walking past her shop was about as close as he was ever going to get now.

  It was almost closing time and he’d just done a long stint in the office, so he needed to stretch his legs a little; both he and Nell got restless if they sat still for too long. He intended to amble along the high street, then walk down to the river to try to clear his mind a little.

  As he passed the flower shop, he noticed that the window looked spectacular, as usual. Leanne had created a wonderful display for wedding season, and he stopped to admire it, lingering for far longer than a bachelor with no bride on the horizon probably should.

  A sheet of A4 paper secured to the inside of the window caught his attention.

  Vacancy: shop manager

  To start asap. Salary negotiable. Must be an experienced florist.

  To apply or for more details, please contact Leanne Green.

  Leanne’s familiar mobile number was printed underneath, and he stared at the advert for a long time, reading it over and over again.

  What did it mean? Did Leanne know something he didn’t; did she know she was going to win Budding Stars? Or was she simply hedging her bets, getting the ball rolling just in case?

  On impulse, he opened the shop door and stepped inside. Mabel, Leanne’s elderly assistant, was busy hauling buckets of flowers into a room at the back of the shop.

  ‘Here, let me give you a hand,’ Rex offered, seeing her struggling to lift them.

  Mabel looked up. ‘Thank you. Some of these are quite heavy.’

  He told Nell to sit, and when he was satisfied the dog was going to behave herself, he hoisted one of the buckets with ease and carried it out to the chiller, before returning for another.

  ‘I see Leanne is advertising for a shop manager,’ he said casually, as if he was simply making conversation and had no real interest in the answer.

  ‘Yes, well, she could hardly pass up an offer like that, and I can’t manage this place on my own. She did ask me, bless her, but I’m a bit past it now.’

  ‘No, she couldn’t,’ he agreed, having no idea what Mabel was talking about but playing along anyway in the hope of getting some more information out of her. ‘And you’re not past it at all,’ he added. ‘I bet you’ve got more get-up-and-go in your little finger than I’ve got in my whole body.’

  ‘Aw, you,’ she said, simpering at the compliment. ‘I’m staying on to help the new person, but I won’t be in charge.’

  Rex lifted another couple of buckets, one in each arm, as Mabel held the chiller room door open for him.

  ‘Yes,’ she continued, ‘it’ll do wonders for her career. She was a bit iffy about it at first, because it’ll mean a permanent move to London, but she’s had a good think and her mind is made up. From what she told me, Jarred Townsend sounds like a decent enough chap to work for.’

  She was going to work for Jarred Townsend? Rex was astounded at the news. Leanne hadn’t said a word to him about an ‘opportunity’, and he wondered how long she’d known about it.

  ‘You didn’t know?’ Mabel asked, catching sight of his expression. ‘I thought you’d be the first one she’d have told, what with you and her dating.’

  ‘She did mention something about it,’ he said vaguely, still reeling from the news. ‘But I hadn’t realised she’d made her mind up.’

  ‘It was a bit of a shock to me too, to be honest. But at least it doesn’t matter if she wins the competition or not, so the pressure is off her a bit. I’m glad, too, because she hasn’t been herself these past couple of days. She looks far too peaky for my liking, and I think she’s trying to do too much.’

  ‘Remind me, what exactly will she be doing for Jarred Townsend?’ Rex asked.

  ‘He’s opening an eco-branch of his business, and Leanne is spearheading it,’ Mabel explained, giving him a strange look. ‘Didn’t she tell you?’

  ‘That’s right, I remember now,’ he said, bending down to pick up two more buckets of flowers so Mabel couldn’t see his face.

  So Leanne was going to go work for Jarred Townsend, was she? She’d never mentioned a thing to him, not even a hint. Had she already received the offer when he was kissing her, or had Jarred only asked her last week?

  No wonder she’d ended things between them.

  ‘When did she speak to you about managing the shop?’ he asked Mabel.

  ‘Yesterday morning, as soon as I came in. She looked a bit upset, actually, and I thought she might have been crying. Still, I expect she must be a bit worried – it’s a big decision and a huge change for her. I don’t blame her for being nervous. She’s lived in Tanglewood all her life, but I told her she should jump at the chance because she’ll only regret it if she doesn’t.’

  Rex actually agreed with Mabel. Leanne would regret it, and with the possibility of him moving back to Scotland as soon as the baby was born, it was probably for the best that she was carrying on with her life.

  It was just a pity his heart didn’t agree with his head.

  Chapter 36

  ‘I hope you don’t think I’ve influenced the result in any way,’ Jarred said as Leanne slipped into the passenger seat of his car – a Porsche, naturally – and sank into the soft leather. ‘Because I would never do that.’

  Strangely enough, she believed him.

  ‘You barely scraped through by the skin of your teeth,’ he added. ‘Actually, I gave you the lowest mark out of the five of you.’

  She hadn’t expected to make it through at all, if she was honest. Her performance today had been desultory at best. It was only because Emma hadn’t completed her unseen task in the allotted time that the other woman had been the latest contestant to leave the show. If she had actually finished it, Leanne would be the one going home. She wouldn’t have blamed the judges. She would have blamed herself. It had not been her best round to date. She guessed the bookies would probably lengthen her odds of winning when this latest episode was aired.

  It was weird to think that she and everyone else involved in the show knew what was happening but the programme had yet to be shown. It would be as though she was living the event twice when she watched it. If she watched it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see herself on screen – catching a glimpse of her face in the mirror was bad enough these days. She looked washed out and used up, as if she had all the cares of the world on her shoulders.

  Even now, with a visit to Jarred’s flagship shop in Kensington looming, she had trouble drumming up the necessary enthusiasm. She was just going through the motions.

  She felt like slapping herself in the face to wake herself up. She was through to the semi-final of one of the newest competitions on TV, and she had the most amazing job offer on the table; she should be jumping up and down with excitement.

  ‘I expected nothing less,’ she said to Jarred, finally responding to his comment. ‘I would have given me the lowest score, too.’

  He pulled over to the kerb and switched off the engine. His shop was on the opposite side of the road, and she gazed at its minimalist splendour with interest. It was understated black-and-white chic, one single bloom in the window in an elegant white vase. The eye had no choice but to be drawn to the startlingly blue hydrangea. At first glance, Leanne thought the flower looked out of place – to
o countrified, too cottage garden – but then she understood its contrast with the sophistication of the window, and she realised the choice was quite inspired.

  Rex would probably have laughed, told her she was reading too much into the whole thing, and that someone had probably forgotten to do a proper display so had stuck this in the window as a last resort.

  She reached for the handle, and was about to get out – although she thought she might need a bit of help in that department because the car was so low to the ground – when Jarred spoke again.

  ‘When you come to work for me, I’ll not tolerate substandard work,’ he warned, and Leanne froze.

  He was so certain, so convinced she would take him up on his offer, she almost turned him down there and then. But common sense soon kicked in. Of course he expected the best from his employees; why wouldn’t he? She deserved the reprimand. Thank God the total scores for all the weeks weren’t totted up, and that each contestant was judged only on that day’s performance. It meant a clean slate for the penultimate week. The four of them had already been given their brief, but Leanne hadn’t read it yet. She’d do that just before she got into her own car for the return journey to Tanglewood, hoping it would give her something to think about on the way home other than Rex McMillan.

  ‘I understand,’ she said after a too-long pause, realising she should have spoken sooner. For some reason she seemed to be having trouble marshalling her thoughts. ‘I promise I’ll give you a hundred per cent.’

  Jarred subjected her to a searching look. ‘Does that mean you accept?’

  For the first time during this long day, Leanne’s smile was genuine and not forced. ‘I did say that I’d let you know the second I’m removed from the competition,’ she reminded him. ‘I’m still in it, albeit by the skin of my teeth.’

  ‘Ah yes, the lady wants to win. If you do, I’ll wait, but not for too long. Do the interviews, the guest appearances, write a few floristry tips in Woman magazine or whatever. Get it out of your system, but do it quickly. I have a business to run.’

  She nodded, eased herself out of the car and let Jarred lead her towards his pride and joy.

  ‘I have seven shops in London,’ he told her, ‘and they all look identical. I have others in Manchester, Birmingham, Liverpool and York, to name but a few, and I am looking into opening branches abroad. My flowers are renowned for their quality and freshness, my florists for their flair and skill.’

  ‘Do you still do arrangements yourself?’ she asked him, walking into the tiled hush of the store. Just like the window, everything was black and white, with no other colours to distract the attention from the real focus, which was the flowers. Even the sheets of tissue paper were monochrome, as was the staff uniform, the ribbons – everything that wasn’t a plant or part of a plant.

  When Leanne mentioned it, Jarred shrugged. ‘If a woman receives a bouquet wrapped in black tissue, with a black ribbon, she knows where it’s from and she knows the sender has chosen the best. It’s good marketing, that’s all. It’s also very effective.’

  It most certainly was, she thought. ‘What about things like weddings – will you change your colour scheme to suit the bride?’

  ‘Of course. It’s enough for me to know that the happy couple will boast that Jarred Townsend has done their flowers. I don’t insist on black and white outside of the shops.’

  Leanne thought of Julia Ferris, and how happy it would make her to be able to tell everyone that Leanne Green off the telly had designed her son’s wedding flowers, and how she would be even happier to be able to say that Leanne worked for Jarred Townsend. The thought almost brought another smile to her lips, and she realised just how few of those she’d given out recently.

  Jarred showed her around the store, which was still open at this relatively late hour, then took her upstairs to the offices. Leanne had never seen anything so plush or extravagant in all her life, and she stood there for a moment with her mouth open, her eyes wide.

  ‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ Jarred said, gesturing towards the deep, white leather sofas, the Persian rugs, the paintings on the wall. ‘I had the carpets specially commissioned,’ he added. ‘The artwork is by Boomerang.’

  Who? Leanne nearly said, but she didn’t want to show her ignorance. ‘It’s certainly…’ she fished around for a suitable word, ‘opulent.’

  When Jarred turned to face her, it took her a second to realise there was something different about him. The cocky, almost arrogant expression was gone; in its place was something more sombre.

  ‘This is branding,’ he explained. ‘Pure and simple. If you lead people to believe that what you are offering is exclusive, and you charge them a fortune for it, they’ll buy it. You’ve been to my apartment; you know this is not me. This is the public me, not the private one.’

  ‘Emperor’s new clothes,’ Leanne murmured.

  ‘Yes!’ Jarred cried, making her jump. ‘You understand. I knew you would.’ He led her to one of the sofas, gestured for her to sit down and sank into the one opposite. ‘I am a good florist, but not a brilliant one,’ he began, shaking his head at her when Leanne was about to object. ‘Everyone thinks I’m brilliant, because that’s what I tell them. That’s what the media tells them. Even the royal family believes it. Why wouldn’t they, when everyone says it’s true?’

  ‘Very clever,’ Leanne acknowledged. She was in awe of this man’s drive and ambition, but she was pretty certain she wasn’t the same. ‘I can’t do this,’ she said, gazing around. ‘It’s not me.’

  ‘And that is what I love about you. You will be a total contrast to this side of my business. I already have the perfect place in mind.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘It’s a converted warehouse – a cliché, I know – but it’s all about recycling, reusing, repurposing, yes? What better way than to start at the beginning with the premises themselves? Everything, and I mean everything, will have started life as something else. Wait a sec, I’ve got some ideas to show you.’

  He struggled to free himself from the sofa and got to his feet. His desk was a highly polished black monstrosity, totally devoid of anything, not even a pencil. Leanne wondered if he did any actual work there, or if it was simply for show.

  There were things in the drawers, though, she saw, as he pulled out a fat folder and came to sit next to her. He opened it and thrust it into her hands.

  Leanne skimmed through image after image of the inside of a warehouse, with its bare bricks and metal hanging lights. Baths had been given second lives as sofas; chests had become plant pots, their drawers open to reveal assorted foliage spilling out of them; the tables were made out of driftwood; even old barrels had been repurposed and were taking the place of the usual plastic containers for holding cut flowers; pallets had been turned into shelving – the list went on.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked when she turned the last page.

  ‘It’s quite…’ Again she struggled to find a word that fitted, one that wouldn’t offend him. ‘Industrial,’ was what she came up with eventually.

  ‘You don’t like it?’ His voice was flat.

  Leanne came to the conclusion that if they were going to work together – although she was under no illusion about who would be the boss and who would be the employee, and she had an unsettling flash of Mrs Carrington and the way she treated Edie – she needed to start as she meant to go on. There was no way she was going to be a yes-man, or rather, a yes-girl. He was hiring her for her ideas, so now was as good a time as any to start expressing them.

  ‘I do like it, but it shouts industry rather than the environment. I can see corporate customers falling over themselves to have you supply them, but I fear you’ll be sadly lacking on the bride and housewife front. But then I suppose it all depends on the market you’re aiming for.’

  Jarred said nothing for a while, and Leanne was convinced she had seriously annoyed him.

  ‘Hmm,’ he said eventually. ‘You’re right.’ He checked his watch. ‘I�
��ll take you back to the studios to pick up your car. You have a long way to travel this evening and I have an appointment. We’ll meet up again soon.’ He paused. ‘I know it’s a big ask, what with the semi-final coming up, but if you could spare some time to think about what the brides and housewives might want and let me know, it’ll enable me to make an informed decision.’

  He hauled her out of the sofa, his grip warm and firm. As she came upright, he turned it into a handshake. ‘We’ll make a good team,’ he insisted before releasing her.

  Leanne was beginning to think he was right. Jarred Townsend was nothing like his hype, nothing like she’d expected him to be. They would make a good team.

  The idea both excited her and made her feel very, very sad at the same time.

  Chapter 37

  The village hall was deemed to be a better venue for the auction of the children’s artwork than either the school or the Brecon Beacons Visitor Centre, for the simple reason that it was more central and easier for everyone to get to. Rex and Miss Harding had been busy putting up flyers advertising the event, and the school had sent out a text to all parents to let them know about it, so they were hoping for a good turnout.

  Rex had taken out three more groups of pupils since that first time, and there was a lovely selection of artwork on display. Some pieces were actually very good indeed, though some, he guessed, would only be bid on by the child’s immediate family.

  After a discussion with Miss Harding in which she had enlightened him as to the possible finances (or lack of them) of some of the local families, Rex had decided on a contingency plan: if any picture was doing really poorly, then he would step in and put a bid on it himself. But he didn’t want to embarrass any parents or pupils, so he’d asked Stevie if she would bid on his behalf. He already had his eye on a couple of possibles; one poor little boy especially wasn’t having a very good time of it at home at the moment, with no father on the scene and his mother suffering from cancer. Miss Harding had indicated that money was tight, so Rex had already made his mind up to purchase the child’s painting if no one else did.