The Flower Shop on Foxley Street

CHAPTER SIX

‘Good of you to join us, William!’ Agatha Taylor’s voice trilled out as he walked up to the main house. Agatha’s estate was massive, and rather beautiful. He strode around the fountain and braced himself for Agatha’s rather large dogs to come bounding out. As though she read his mind, Agatha smiled kindly. ‘Taylor has just taken the children out for their morning walk. They will be gone a while.’

Will relaxed visibly. Last time, Buster had head-butted him in the testicles by accident, and the thought of it even now made his eyes water. He resisted the urge to cup himself comfortingly. His uncle Archie was stood next to Agatha, and the two looked as different as heaven and earth. Archie was his uncle on his father’s side, and was a strange man. Even if he loved you to distraction, to the outside world he looked as though you were barely tolerated. He was pretty sure that Archie cared, but he wouldn’t stake the farm on being loved by him. The Singer men were often something of an enigma. At the moment, with his turbulent private life, this trait served him well.

He was getting the measure of his uncle more and more as they worked together, and Will was fast realizing that Archie was an amazing man. Looking at him now, with his trademark boots and scowl, he looked even harsher against the backdrop of the hall and Agatha, who was dressed like the Queen. All she was missing was the straight face and the tiara. Archie grunted a hello, and Will nodded in response.

Agatha was staring at him with a wry smile on her face, and he felt as though she was in on a joke he didn’t quite get yet.

‘Sorry I’m late – I had a meeting that ran over. What’s to be done today?’

Agatha looked at him like a cat would eye a fish in a tank, patting Archie on the shoulder.

‘Archibald dear, you can make a start if you like. I will just have a chat with young William here. I shan’t be long.’

Archie, rolling his eyes at the use of his Sunday name, nodded and practically ran. As he passed his nephew, he tapped him on the arm.

‘Sorry, lad,’ he whispered. ‘Grin and bear it.’

Will moved closer to Agatha, thinking she had a job she wanted him to do that perhaps Archie wasn’t up to. She reached for his hand instead, clasping it between her own soft warm ones, and gave it a little rub.

‘How are you, dear? You enjoying being in Westfield?’

Will nodded, realizing that she had clocked his lack of wedding ring. ‘I am fine, Mrs Taylor I love being here. I appreciate the work too.’

Agatha batted away his thanks. ‘Oh pish posh, Archie is family, so that includes you too. You remind me rather of Benjamin, our vet in the village. Have you met?’

Will shook his head. Agatha looked wistful for a moment. ‘I never had children of my own, apart from my dogs of course. I would rather have liked a son or two.’

She seemed to shake herself out of her thoughts, and looked kindly at him again.

‘Are you managing to pick up any work in the village?’

Will shook his head. ‘Not much, but I hope that will change soon.’

‘Productive coffee meeting then? Jolly good. Well, I shall leave you to get on, William. Lovely to see you again. If you need anything, please let me know.’

Will waved her off as she sashayed primly up the large stone steps to her home. It wasn’t till later, when he was busy pruning the hedges, that he realized he hadn’t told anyone about the meeting with Lily, or the fact that it involved coffee at all.

***

Roger stamped his feet in frustration. It was quite funny to see a man in mohair have a paddy, and Lily resisted the urge to laugh.

‘Lily Rose Baxter!’ Roger whined. ‘Tell meeee!’

She clipped the ribbon on her latest bouquet and walked over to the window display, placing it in a bucket to keep it fresh.

‘Roger, there is nothing to tell. He knows I am engaged, he is new to the area, is looking for work and wanted to speak to someone in the business. He is a landscape gardener, I told you. I said he could bring some business cards in, and I would recommend him to some people for their gardens. Plenty will be wanting them shipshape for spring, so hopefully he can get some work.’

Roger looked crestfallen. ‘That’s all?’

Lily didn’t look at Roger. Truth was, she was a little gutted herself. ‘That’s all.’ Apart from the fact that I can’t stop comparing him to Stuart, and thinking about his lashes. His eyes. The jolt I get just from touching his hand. She was pretty sure he felt it too. It was something she had read about many times – mainly in the romance novels she loved. She had never had that with Stuart. Ever. She felt a little panicked that she might never feel it with him. Was it a sign? She pushed the thought away. No good thinking like that.

‘He didn’t ravish you over the pork pies? Fondle your fancies?’

Lily laughed. ‘No! He bought me breakfast. That was it. Now, please, can we get on with some work?’

Roger pouted, taking his anger out on a sprig of baby’s breath as he thrust it viciously into an arrangement.

‘I am devastated. I was sure he was the one.’

‘Stuart is the one! You know, my fiancé?’ She waggled her fingers at him. He flicked his hand dismissively. ‘That Kinder egg monstrosity. No way! You deserve a man who can pick a ring that doesn’t look like it belongs to Cruella De Vil.’

Lily looked at her ring. It was ugly, to be fair, and Stuart had wasted no time telling her how expensive it had been. In fact, he had told everyone within a five-mile radius at the time. Truth was, Lily would have been happier with a prettier ring that cost a fraction of the price. Still, he was her husband to be. He picked the ring, and that was that. At least wedding bands were plain. She was grateful for that. Not that there was any sign of there being a wedding. This ring had been on her finger for years. They hadn’t even had an engagement party, as Stuart was busy building up his clientele.

‘You are mean to Stuart you know. He is trying.’

Roger came over, hugging her to him. ‘He is very trying, my dear. I don’t mean to be awful; it’s just that there is just something about him. Since you took me on when your parents retired, I have seen and heard a lot here, and I am not happy with a lot of it. He is a light stealer, my girl.’

‘Like Dumbledore?’ she teased, imagining Stuart running around Foxley Street with long white hair and a cloak nicking the street lights.

‘In a way, yes,’ Roger retorted, poking her in the ribs. She jerked away, motioning to the kettle. Roger nodded, scarce drawing breath before starting again. ‘He is a walking ego, and you are smaller, duller, when you are around him. I don’t like it. Your parents do it too, and you don’t even realize how much.’

‘Duller?’ Lily cried, horrified. ‘Do you mean boring?’

Roger eyed her sympathetically. ‘I rather meant dimmer, like a candle about to go out, but whilst we are on the subject …’

‘We are not on the subject! Not at all, and I don’t want to talk about it either!’

She sloshed water into two cups, before realizing that they were empty. She tutted loudly, throwing the contents into the sink before starting again. She banged down the sugar canister. Why did everyone have an opinion on her life suddenly? Her parents, Simon, Roger! When she signed for the business – something she had been dreaming about since she was a little girl helping out her parents in the shop – she thought that life would change. Her real life would start. She would move out, get married, be the grown-up she wanted to be, instead of just waiting for that milestone to occur.

Now she was here, what did she have? She owned the shop, sure, with a hefty mortgage, but nothing else that adults normally go through had kicked into gear. She still awoke in the same bedroom every morning, waiting to move on. At this rate, she would be wearing a wedding gown to work in her fifties, sat like Miss Havisham doling out floral creations to every other lucky bugger who had something to celebrate.

Ever since she had been a girl, she had loved the idea of romance and love. Disney has a lot to answer for, she decided. They sold girls the idea that they could be princesses, mermaids, warriors. Women who could rock a ballgown whilst brandishing a bow and arrow – and they would fall in love. Even a beast could be a prince. They sold that idea that the ideal man was out there, just waiting to find the other half of his heart like them.

Well, when would that happen? Would Prince Charming insist on a long engagement? Would he hell. He had Cinderella on the back of his horse, racing to the altar before they had even swapped numbers, let alone bodily fluids. The point was, Lily felt like she was finally seeing her life through the lives of others, and the view was not all roses around the door. The fact that it was bothering her now, and not before, had her more confused than ever.

Had she just sleepwalked through the last twenty-nine years? Stuart wasn’t perfect, sure, but she had loved him enough to say yes when he asked her to marry him all that time ago. They did okay – between them they managed to be relatively happy. In light of how her parents had turned out, maybe that was the thing to aim for. Relative happiness. Someone you didn’t want to plunge the bread knife into twenty years down the road.

The thunderbolt. Everyone talked about it. It was woven into the books she read, the films she watched. They all sold this idea that the right one was the one who made your heart thud, your palms go sweaty, and your pupils dilate. Anything else was settling, taking the easy route. Before today Lily would have declared it a fanciful notion, a plot trope that was as magical and elusive as unicorn poop. Since the breakfast with Will though, she had to admit, the idea wasn’t as far off as she had thought. Maybe she shouldn’t fear settling, but fear that bolt of lightning.

She made the coffees, leaving Roger’s on the work surface, and she walked out of the back with hers. Her shop came with a back area, all enclosed with walls and fences, and she had a couple of greenhouses she managed to get cheap from a mate of Simon’s. She intended to grow orchids and other flowers, selling them in her shop. Another thing her parents didn’t agree with. They had just kept the back swept clean, using it only to store deliveries, accessed through a gate at the back.

She loved it out here. It even had a spiral staircase leading to the first floor. If she moved in upstairs, she could have her coffee out here every day, walking down the back steps into her own little garden area. She thought of moving here again, and she felt a frisson of excitement. Roger was right – it would be perfect. Her parents would have to sort themselves out then, if she wasn’t there as a buffer. Surely they would speak to each other if they were alone in the house?

Deciding that Roger could do without her for an hour or so, she reached in her jeans pocket for her set of keys. The little gold key on the chain glinted at her in the early morning light. Time to make a start on her life.

‘Cinders,’ she said to herself out loud, ‘it’s time to get cleaning.’

***

Stuart was sat in his office at the golf club, looking at the calendar in disbelief. It was only a few short weeks till Valentine’s Day, and he had nothing planned. He knew that Lily wouldn’t make a fuss, but the very event of 14th February often showed him up as less than romantic. The ball at the golf club was the perfect cover. Lily wouldn’t get mad if he had to work; she understood. He just wished all occasions could be explained away as easily.

His excuse stash was running low with the people in his life. Compounded by the fact that he had been engaged for six years, and Lily’s impending thirtieth birthday, Stuart was feeling an ulcer coming on. He swigged at the bottle of Gaviscon on his desk, pulling a face at the taste, and opened his work diary. He needed to pull some hours in, make himself scarce. Ideally he would like to avoid Valentine’s Day altogether, but that was a feat that would require some serious planning, and a steady supply of Rennies. Picking up the phone, he got to work.

***

Lily was pleasantly surprised when she opened up the flat. There wasn’t much up there, and her dad had used the bedroom as an office, so the facilities weren’t too dusty. It was quite modern too, and she could easily move in, with a lick of paint and a few pieces of furniture. She looked out of the front window of the living room, which overlooked Foxley Street, and gasped. The view was amazing. She could see the fields beyond the few houses and streets dotted around, and although it was misty, she could see the top of Mayweather House too.

She drank her hot drink, watching the world go by, imagining herself living here. A space of her own. She could see a couple of people working in the fields nearby, and she wondered with a jolt whether one of them was Will. She tried to peer further, but movement on the street below caught her eye. She groaned loudly, grabbed her empty cup, and headed for the stairs.

Her mother was here. She felt like a naughty schoolgirl, being caught skiving off school. She locked up quickly, racing down the steps as fast as she dared. She was just heading into the shop when she heard her mother’s loud tones coming through the door. Poor Roger. When Lily walked in, willing her face to not betray her bizarre guilt, Lizzie was giving him tips on a floral centrepiece he was working on for the local hotel.

‘You see, dear, that colour just won’t pop as much as it could, using that colour ribbon. I would definitely change it for the yellow. Nice spring tones. Hello, darling!’ Her mother spied her and set off rapidly, grabbing her in a too tight hug. Lily couldn’t breathe momentarily as her mother squeezed her, and Roger pretended to hang himself with a piece of peach-coloured ribbon behind her back. Lily mouthed ‘sorry’ at him and he blew her a kiss in response. All was forgiven obviously. If they could survive this visit, of course.

‘Ow, Mum, you’re crushing me. Can I help you at all?’

Her mother released her slightly, and Lily felt her lungs fill again.

‘Well actually, dear, it’s how I can help you!’

Lily looked back at her with trepidation. The icy digits of dread were finger-walking up her spine. ‘Help me, how?’

‘Well,’ her mother said, busying herself with fluffing out her hair. ‘I thought I would come back to work!’

Lily’s mouth dropped open. Working with her mother again! Not a snowflake in hell. She glanced at Roger over her shoulder, and he was busy trying to catch flies with his own horrified expression. Lily took a step forward, taking her mother’s rather cold hands in her own.

‘Mum,’ she said softly, as you would speak to a tiger that had crossed your path unexpectedly. ‘I did love working with you, but … Love Blooms is kind of my thing now, and I have Roger …’

‘Oh Roger could get another job, dear! I could save you money. I wouldn’t need a wage as such.’ A flash of silver glinted in Lily’s vision, and she saw that Roger had picked up his shears and was stealthily walking up to her mother with a look that screamed bloody murder. She raised a hand to him, warning him with her eyes not to bludgeon her mother to death in the middle of the shop. Roger turned on his heel, scissors still in hand, and headed for the front door.

‘I am going to take my lunch now!’ he practically screamed as he stormed across the room and slammed the shop door shut behind him. His tone of voice made it sound like he was wanting to say something a lot less tactful and polite. Lily made a mental note to double his Christmas bonus next year, if only to reward him for not shivving anyone.

‘Mum,’ she tried again. ‘Bit rude, don’t you think? Roger works here now, and to talk like that in front of him was a bit impolite.’

Lizzie had warmed to the theme of the conversation now, Lily could tell, and she wasn’t one to be stopped easily. ‘Exactly, he WORKS here. I could help you out for a fraction of the cost. I know the business and I am family.’

Lily gripped her mother’s hand tighter. ‘I know, Mum, and I appreciate the gesture, but I need to be independent now, and do my own thing.’

Her mother was about to open her mouth again when Irvin walked in.

‘Morning, Lily, just thought I would come to see you. I had an i – oh, what are you doing here?’

Irvin stopped still, a paper bag in his hand. It was then that Lily noticed a similar bag sticking out of her mother’s handbag.

She was being used as a pawn yet again. Except this time, they had come to her work, her sanctuary from home, and they had come laden with bribes. Vanilla slices were her downfall, and the reason she was always a size 12 rather than the 10 that everyone coveted in magazines. They knew this, since she was the person they had raised in this world from scratch. Lily felt herself getting mad, but her parents were too busy circling each other like tigers to notice.

‘Hi, Dad,’ she said, trying to douse down the shake of anger in her voice. ‘What did you want?’

‘Er well,’ he said gruffly, and she let him dangle a little before she relented and saved him.

‘Did you want to come back to work, by any chance?’ Irvin’s face lit up and she wanted to cuddle him. Her dear old dad. He was struggling too, she knew that, but she hadn’t realized just how much till now.

Irvin Baxter was always the easier going of her two parents, the one who would blow off the routine to do something fun, while her mother looked on tutting and complaining about getting back to put the meat in the oven. They were both slowly driving her crazy, but as usual, it felt as though the switch had only just been flipped in her head, and she was noticing everything for the first time. She needed to change things, and fast. She looked from one parent to the other, and took a deep breath. She needed to stop being the passenger in her own life.

‘Mum, Dad. I love you both, but you can’t keep doing this to me.’

Her mother opened her mouth to object but Lily cut her off. She had to get this out now, or she would be shouted down as usual.

‘No, Mother, let me speak.’ Both Lizzie’s and Irvin’s eyes widened and they said nothing. Lily felt a little surge of confidence flicker through her. ‘I bought this business from you because I didn’t want to be handed something; I wanted something of my own. I worked hard to get it how I want, and I have big plans. I can’t have you two working here – it just won’t work.’

Irvin’s shoulders sagged and she knew that her father understood. She saw a look of shame cross his features, and she wanted to hug him tight again. Her mother was a different story. She looked positively ferocious, and Lily knew what she had to do.

‘I love you both, but I am a grown woman, with my own business. I need to build my own life too, separate from you two. Whatever is going on with you two, I can’t be in the middle any more. I just can’t. I’m sorry. That’s why I am moving out.’ Her mother looked ready to explode. Her dad looked like he was about to burst into tears.

‘This week,’ Lily added quickly. ‘Or sooner, if I can get my furniture organized.’ She risked looking at Lizzie, just to check whether or not her head was spinning around like a top. Her dad broke the silence thankfully, crossing the room to take his only child into his arms. She smiled, letting her dad envelop her. He smelt faintly of mints and suddenly she was four again and sitting on his knee in the shop, whilst he taught her about the different flowers and arrangements they used. She squeezed him tighter, and he pulled back to look at her.

‘I am proud of you, Lily, you know that, right?’

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak as she saw her dad dab at something in the corner of his eye. He pressed the paper bag gently into her hand and left the shop. Her mother, who had been frozen like an exhibit at a taxidermist convention till this point, suddenly came to life, nearly spiking her heels through the floor as she marched across to her handbag. Picking it up, she took out the paper bag and rammed her handbag onto the crook of her arm.

‘Mum,’ Lily started softly, trying to cushion the blow a little, ‘I just need to start living my own life.’

Her mother made an odd snuffling noise from the back of her throat. ‘So, where are you going to live then? I don’t think you can stretch to two mortgages, and Stuart isn’t allowed to have a non-MARRIED partner at the cottage, is he? Or do you want him to risk his job for you?’

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