Page 14 of The Little Flower Shop By the Sea
‘Right,’ Mickey says, not allowing me time to think about it further. ‘Large cod and chips it is!’
He proceeds to pull a huge piece of cod from the fryer and lay it on some paper, then he fills a paper bag with chips. ‘I hope you won’t be eating this in your van alone?’ he asks.
I look blankly at him.
‘Oh, you mean like Jake?’ I say, then wish I hadn’t.
‘Yeah, poor fella. He’s never quite got over it, has he?’
Mickey has assumed because I know Jake’s name, I also know Jake.
I shake my head. ‘No…’ I say cautiously. ‘Do you think he ever will?’ I try, hoping this will prompt an appropriate answer.
Mickey finishes filling my parcel with chips, then deftly wraps white paper around the outside.
‘I don’t know. Losing your wife like that, it’s gonna hit any man hard, ain’t it. He’s done well though – I reckon the kids kept him going.’
‘Yes…’ I nod hurriedly, hoping Mickey will continue.
Does this mean Jake is a widower? Or did his wife leave him?
‘That gravestone at the church is one of the best kept you’ll ever see,’ Mickey says, totting up my bill on his cash register. ‘That’ll be £7 please, love. Fresh flowers every week without fail.’
So he’s a widower… Now I feel really bad.
‘Yes, that’s lovely,’ I say, paying him. I pick up my parcel. ‘Thanks for these.’
‘No worries, my love.’ He looks at me quizzically. ‘Have I seen you before around here? You look very familiar.’
‘Not for a while,’ I say truthfully. ‘I’m just back in town on some business.’
Mickey seems pleased with this explanation. ‘Never forget a face, me,’ he says, winking.
‘Bye for now!’ I call as I leave the shop. ‘I’m sure I’ll be back again while I’m here.’
I close the door behind me, pull up my hood, and I’m about to run back to the cottage with my food when I see a white van parked down by the harbour.
Painted in red on the side it saysJake Asher– Flowers.
I pause for a moment to think, then before I can chicken out, I purposefully change direction and head down towards the harbour and the van…
Five
Hazel – Reconciliation
Knocking on the driver’s side window I see that Jake is hungrily tucking into his fish and chips, lying in their paper on his lap.
He looks up and sees me staring through the window at him, the rain pelting down on my industrial-strength mackintosh. His eyes narrow as he tries to see who it is under the huge hood, disturbing his dinner.
When he realises it’s me, he winds down the window.
‘Yes?’
I hadn’t expected this. I’d thought he’d immediately invite me into the dry and warmth of his van.
‘I… I wanted to talk to you,’ I stutter.
‘About what?’ Jake asks, looking up at me, expressionless.
