by Lucy Knott
‘Hey, don’t look. You must wait for the others; I can’t have you getting a head start on the questions. I believe showing favouritism would not make me a very fair host,’ Jo said with a playful wink. Florence tiptoed as Jo picked up the clipboards so she could read over his shoulder, but he gave her a mock stern glare and so she retreated to the water, sticking out her tongue as she frolicked away. Jo laughed, squinting his eyes at her, while giving her one of his charming side smiles. She looked away, not wanting to get distracted by the fluttering that stirred in her stomach.
‘Did you manage to finish the barn, Jo?’ Florence queried as the water crept up to her toes. She momentarily felt a little jealous that she hadn’t been able to aid him in the rest of the renovating. It had been incredibly therapeutic for her.
‘Maybe,’ Jo said with a teasing grin.
‘I don’t suppose that I get a sneak peek at the barn then either, if you can’t be seen to be showing favouritism to your guests?’ Florence asked, as she paddled through the water, having thrown her sandals in the grass. She hitched up her dress allowing the cool water to calm her.
‘Ma lady, how dare you even consider such a proposition,’ Jo said, raising a hand to his chest mock aghast. ‘I would not dream of spoiling such a surprise for the sky shall be just right and the atmosphere perfect later this evening so you, especially you, will have to wait,’ he said, in his royal British accent.
‘I do apologise for askin’, sir, but forgive a lass for her curiosity. She is so desperate to see the fine job you have done,’ Florence replied in a sweet southern drawl, that drew Jo towards the water. He placed the clipboards down and waded into the lake.
‘Well, how would you know if a fine job has been done?’ Jo teased. He was now a cowboy, taking on the southern accent too.
‘You look like the kinda man who does a job right,’ Florence answered, her cheeks flushing when she heard what she said. Jo’s eyes sparkled with amusement.
‘Damn right,’ he noted, pretending to tip his cowboy hat, and propping his foot up on the bank so he could rest his elbow on his knee and strike a pose. With the sun highlighting his cheekbones and catching the mischief in his hazel eyes, it was hard for Florence to peel her eyes away from him. Her heart was in a tizzy. Allowing herself to listen to it and unlock the guard she had built up around it and see Jo in this new light of desire was all kinds of fun but incredibly terrifying at the same time. She didn’t know that her pulse could beat so fast. She laughed nonchalantly and forced her eyes to the rocks at the bottom of the lake, wanting to keep it together and rid her mind of the image it had now conjured up of Jo dressed as a cowboy and riding a horse. She just had to get through the rest of the afternoon and the fundraising party and then she would speak to him and tell him how she felt.
Saving Florence from further blushing were a group of guests, both adults, and children, making their way towards the lake with bright smiles on their faces, chatting to one another and looking around taking in the scenery. Many jaws dropped when they saw the lake and the giant trees, and all but two of the fifteen kids ran into the water and began splashing around before anyone could stop them, not that anyone wanted to.
Florence allowed the children to get all their splashing out of their systems while Jo dried off in the sun and mingled with the adults. She loved overseeing the mayhem in the water, learning the children’s names and ensuring their safety. They had a blast collecting a couple of rocks before she gently encouraged them to get back to dry land so they could begin the book trail. She began reciting “The Bear Hunt” and acting it out as she waded through the water. At this the younger children in the pack cheered with excitement and dashed to the grass, shaking off their wet feet and running over to their parents eagerly. The older ones smiled at her and enthusiastically walked towards Jo. Their smiles warmed Florence’s heart and made her feel more confident in her school plans for September, plans that she couldn’t wait to tell Jo about. There were a lot of things she wanted to share with him and again she found herself hoping that the time would come later to do so, and that Jo would be happy to hear them.
Jo explained the rules and instructions of the book trail to the large group before him. Florence could see the joy written all over his face at the turnout and she was pleased that the adults looked just as excited as the children for this event. After handing everyone a clipboard, some people had decided to group up, parents with their kids, even a few different parents teamed up while their kids giddily announced that they were going to beat them, Jo handed a clipboard to Florence who took it with a playful curtsey.
‘The first instruction will take you to the first clue. Look out for the characters lurking in the grounds and answer the questions they are holding and that will give you the next clue,’ Jo informed the teams. Then with his arms in the air, he shouted, ‘Good luck,’ and the groups eagerly mumbled the first instruction to each other, some darting off quicker than others. For a moment Florence got lost in seeing the children’s faces light up as they shouted out the answers. The adults too were alight with wonder as the answer of Matilda took them back to their childhoods. It was truly a beautiful sight to behold, watching the magic of books connect people and bring smiles to people’s faces.
‘I don’t believe it. Have you never read Matilda?’ Jo said, his boyish grin back on his face as Florence stood there. ‘The answer to the first question is Matilda, which will take you to the library,’ Jo said, shaking his head, in playful disbelief. ‘But shhh, don’t tell anyone I helped you and don’t think I am going to help you with the next one,’ he continued, laughter in his tone.
Florence pulled her attention away from the guests to whack Jo in his bicep. ‘I thought you weren’t supposed to help me, and of course I knew the answer. Matilda is a rite of passage for any bookworm. Now please, sir, do not insult me and stop trying to sabotage my chances of winning this book trail by distracting me with your conversation.’ She gave him a side smile and small nod and ran ahead.
‘I would do no such thing,’ Jo shouted after her.
Florence wandered the grounds, occasionally getting lost simply observing the other contestants. Her competitive spirit wasn’t very bold. She watched as Jo walked around ensuring everyone was playing by the rules. Of course, it was all for fun and everyone was good-natured but it amused her and the guests when he occasionally popped up and stated that the book fairies who lived in the trees would not take kindly to the use of mobile phones or peeking at other teams’ answers. The kids giggled and ran among each other, whispering to get a rise out of Jo. He would chase after them and claim he was the fairy police patrol and they would squeal and sprint away from him promising they were not cheating only to repeat the same actions again when they found the next clue. It was even funnier when they unintentionally gave away the answers by shouting them out for all around them to hear when they got so excited that they knew one. The whole thing was highly entertaining.
Florence took her time strolling from clue to clue. She was very much enjoying all Jo’s questions and the thought that he had put into each one. The cardboard characters were an absolute delight and finding “The Hungry Caterpillar” on a low branch of a giant oak tree, “Winnie-the-Pooh” eating honey in the forest area where the trees were more dense – not too far from the barn, and “James and the Giant Peach” nestled by the peach tree had been a pure joy. Jo had made these characters a part of the real world and it was incredibly moving for someone like her.
She was the last one to reach the end of the trail, which came to completion back at the main cottage. Jo had set up tepees on the other side of the campfire, which contained stacks of books, colouring sheets, snacks for the children and Ella.
‘Ella,’ Florence shouted, grinning broadly as Ella ducked out of one of the tepees, wearing long denim dungarees, with one strap hung loose displaying a tee that read: “So many books, so little time”. Her beautiful hair was in braids and bouncing around as she dashed over to Florence t
o give her a friendly hug. ‘How are you?’ Florence asked, as Bronte bounced out of the same tepee.
‘I’m doing great thank you. It’s so good to see you again. I’ve missed you at the shop. Jo’s one-man performances just aren’t the same without you,’ Ella noted making Florence laugh. ‘And Bronte here is wonderful,’ she added to which Bronte curtsied.
‘Florence, I never want to leave this place. I’ll let you break the news to Langston,’ Bronte informed her. Florence chuckled, the apples of her cheeks aching with how big she was smiling.
‘I’ve missed you too. This is amazing – what you’ve done,’ Florence told Ella, gesturing over the books and the tepees. ‘And you’d break the poor man’s heart,’ she added, winking at Bronte.
‘Thanks, but I believe it was your idea. Jo said something about you mentioning a book trail and then he just ran with it and put together all this. I only helped with the pictures for the trail and provided the books of course, but I think it’s wonderful. Parents have been asking after the shop, so I’m grateful to be here. I think it will help the village too,’ Ella said, and with that a parent wandered over to ask questions about children’s books as a child tugged on Bronte’s jeans asking about a story, so Florence bowed away happily allowing her friends to hopefully drum up some business and indulge the child in a fantastical adventure.
The scene truly took Florence’s breath away. Every stop on the book trail had been more enchanting than the last and now this was the cherry on top of the cake; this patch of land that Jo and Ella had turned into a bookworm’s paradise.
‘You have outdone yourself, Mr Hadlee,’ Florence noted as Jo came to stand by her on the decking, having disappeared to change out of his more scruffy and wet clothes.
‘I may have called in a few favours from some architect types in London, who prefer this kind of thing to the high-profile jobs. We’re not all bad. And you’ve not seen the barn yet,’ he said softly, handing her a glass of lemonade.
‘There you two are,’ came Margot’s voice from behind them. Both Florence and Jo turned around to see George and Margot walking towards them. Florence noticed that her nanna’s eyes were glistening, and she looked like she had been crying.
‘Are you all right, Nanna?’ Florence asked, more than a hint of concern in her tone.
Her nanna reached out and placed a hand on Florence’s forearm and the other took Jo’s hand. ‘Jo, this place is utterly splendid. It pained me over the years to hear George talk about how quiet and unloved this place had become, but now it is alive again, as it should be. You should be proud,’ Margot said, squeezing Florence’s forearm and Jo’s hand.
Jo took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Margot. ‘I’m glad you think so and this weekend wouldn’t have been possible without Florence and all her ideas. I didn’t think any of this was possible and nearly got this place demolished, so I by no means can take any of the credit,’ he said modestly, making Florence look to her feet with embarrassment.
‘You brought all my ideas to life Jo; in ways I wouldn’t have known how to. I honestly believe events like this will keep Camp Calla Lily afloat,’ Florence said quietly.
George stepped forward and shook his grandson’s hand, then winked at Florence. ‘You make a great team,’ he said to them both. Margot nodded her agreement. Both Florence and Jo caught each other’s side glance and gave each other a shy half-smile. George then checked his watch and clinked his glass, drawing their attention and the crowd’s to him. The sun was slowly beginning to set on the horizon, lending a stunning orange and yellow glow to the already beautiful outdoor décor, so much so that Florence hoped her red cheeks wouldn’t be so obvious.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ George started, making Florence’s stomach flutter with excited anticipation. ‘Thank you all for joining us here today. My grandson Jo and I hope that you have been enjoying the festivities. For those of you who have visited before, we hope that you like the new additions to the grounds in addition to the new activities we have on offer. For those of you who are seeing Camp Calla Lily for the first time, we hope it has captured your hearts and that you will return.’ There were many cheers and claps with this notion. George nodded his head graciously and continued, ‘This is where I believe I am to pass you on to my grandson, for he has been planning something I have not been allowed to set my eyes on. To say I am slightly anxious would be an understatement.’ Cue laughter from the guests and a chuckle from Jo. ‘But if this event so far today has taught me anything it is that even us old folk are always learning and I have learnt that I must have more faith and trust in my dear boy, for what he has done thus far has been truly outstanding, lifting up not only the camp but also my spirit.’
Jo stepped forward and hugged his grandad, causing Florence to search out a napkin to wipe her damp eyes. ‘If I can draw your attention to the golf carts,’ Jo said, pointing towards the path that led further into the forest, in the opposite direction of the huts, where five golf carts lined the dirt. ‘It’s not a long walk so for those of you that are able, I ask that you kindly give your seats to those who might need them and follow behind. It’s time for the grand opening of the Wild Lily barn,’ Jo finished, to a round of applause.
The guests started making their way over to the carts, kids and adults helping the elderly guests. Florence went to step forward, but Jo reached out, gently catching her shoulder and saying, ‘Ma lady, you are coming with me. You require a blindfold,’ he said, holding them both back a little until the guests had begun their walk and Sal and the kitchen staff had driven away on the golf carts.
‘I told you before, I am no Ana Steele,’ Florence said, surprised by the flirtatious way those words had come out. Where normally they would have come out hard and stern, now they left her lips with more than a hint of teasing. She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks.
‘And I am no Christian Grey, unless you like that sort of thing,’ Jo whispered, close to Florence’s ear as his fingers gently brushed over them while he tied the bandana around her head. Florence could almost feel the vibrations of Jo’s heart and as he took a deep breath when he moved his fingers away, she found herself hoping that his feelings for her hadn’t changed and that she wasn’t too late.
‘Jo!!’ Florence expressed, trying to smack him playfully but missing as now she couldn’t see.
‘You started it,’ Jo said, his voice returning to its normal octave. ‘Are you ready?’ he added.
‘Lead the way, Captain,’ Florence said, with a salute.
Twenty-Seven
Even with her blindfold on Florence could feel they were getting closer to the barn. The shadows of the giant trees gave way to a soft and cooler breeze. The canopy of oaks and English planes blocked the fading sun and the fragrant smell of a trifle of flowers filled the air. The noise picked up telling her that they had reached the clearing where everyone had gathered. There were lots of gasps and ‘wow’, ‘it’s so pretty’. Florence even heard a tiny voice asking, ‘Do princesses live here?’ Her stomach twisted into knots. When was Jo going to let her see it?
Gradually her ears pricked up to the hum of music that sang out around the forest and she felt Jo’s hands near the back of her neck. Her skin tingled as he untied the knot in the bandana. Then he leant in close again and with a whisper said, ‘I could not have done it without you,’ before letting the blindfold drop away.
Florence had to blink a few times to unblur her vision and the minute it was clear, it went blurry again through a flurry of tears. She had to pinch herself to be sure she hadn’t just disappeared into one of her vivid daydreams.
Bulb-shaped lights were draped from tree to tree creating a giant circle around the barn. Rope lights spiralled around thick tree trunks for as far as the eye could see. Old-fashioned square lanterns hung from the barn windows and lit up the barn walls. And the walls, the walls, they were not the brown barn shade she had painted with Jo. They were a vibrant, happy sunflower yellow, with turquoise accents. A flower p
rint flag blew in the breeze from a top the small apex at the front of the second floor of the barn, that also displayed a circle-shaped stained window, which the dipping sunlight was bouncing off. It was the barn from her dream, the very barn she had described to Jo upon first seeing the dilapidated shack.
Florence was at a loss for words and finding it extremely difficult to form a sentence that could do the barn justice. She knew that Jo had been a successful architect and she didn’t doubt for a second that he could create beautiful things, but this was something beyond magnificent. She looked to her right. Jo still stood behind her, and she saw that George and Margot were next to them. George’s eyes were sparkling and filled with tears, his cheeks glistening from those that had already fallen.
‘My dear boy,’ was all he could manage and which he repeated in a whisper a couple of times over.
Jo squeezed Florence’s shoulder and ran over to kiss his grandad on the cheek before running forward towards the barn doors. The children stopped running in between the trees and the adults gathered a little closer as Jo and Sal swung open the gorgeous barn doors and revealed the inside.
If Florence had been shocked upon seeing the outside, it was nothing to how she felt the moment she lay her eyes on the interior. The rustic oak floor gleamed. Star-shaped glass lights hung from the strong wooden beams and at the back of the large rectangle structure, there was a grand pink curtain. Florence stepped forward with the crowd edging their way inside. Along the walls there were theatre posters and books prints. A room off to the side indicated that toilets had been put in as well as a small kitchen area that was closed off with bits of scaffolding still, but it was the curtains that Florence was drawn to, that were pulling her forward as the children broke into dances in the wide hall space.
