Page 8 of The Little Flower Shop By the Sea
I stifle a giggle. ‘The answer is I don’t know what I’m going to do with the place.’ I look around the shop again. ‘Flowers and me… well,’ I gesture down at my clothes – today a pair of skinny black jeans, my favourite burgundy Doc Marten boots, and a baggy long black sweater – ‘we don’t really go together all that well.’
‘I didn’t think so,’ Jake says matter-of-factly. ‘I could tell when I first saw you that you weren’t the floral type.’
I should feel pleased at hearing that. But for some reason I’m insulted by his assumption.
‘You’d probably be best selling the shop then,’ he continues. ‘Take the cash and jet off to a hot climate to sun yourself. You look like you could do with a bit.’
‘Cash or sun?’ I demand, folding my arms.
Jake pulls a wry face. ‘Ah… I’m in trouble there, whatever I say… I meant sun: you look a bit pale.’
‘This is my natural colour!’ I protest. ‘Just because I don’t plaster myself in fake tan like some Barbie doll!’
Miley flinches at my raised voice.
‘Sorry, fella,’ I say in a gentle voice. ‘I mean girl… lady… oh, how do you address a female monkey?’ I ask Jake.
‘Just use her name, that usually works.’
‘Sorry, Miley,’ I say quietly. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’
Like two plump raisins buried in a furry head, her tiny eyes look up knowingly at me, as if she’s reading my mind. Then solemnly she holds out her paw.
‘She wants to make friends,’ Jake instructs. ‘Hold out your hand.’
So I do.
But instead of Miley shaking my hand as I expect her to, she carefully places the pips of the apple into my palm. Then she darts off back to Jake’s shoulder.
‘Sorry,’ Jake says, ‘she can be a tad erratic sometimes, to put it mildly.’
‘It’s OK,’ I say, looking at the pips. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve carried someone else’s trash, and I doubt it’ll be the last. It’s usually all people trust me with.’
Jake looks quizzically at me, but I don’t enlighten him.
‘Drink?’ he asks. ‘There’s a pub down the road. You look like you could do with one – sorry,’ he hurriedly apologises. ‘I’m making assumptions again.’
I study him for a moment. He looks harmless enough, and it seems unlikely that a guy who goes around with a monkey on his shoulder will turn out to be a serial killer.
I nod. ‘That,Jake Asher, is the first sensible thing you’ve said since you walked into this shop.’
Three
Snapdragon – Presumption
The Merry Mermaid must have been carved from the same piece of rock St Felix originally grew from. This pub hotel has stood on the harbour front for as long as I can recall, and even though I haven’t been back to St Felix for over fifteen years it’s still exactly as I remember.
The décor and the owners may have changed over time, but the ambience inside remains the same – warm and welcoming to friends old and new, visitors and tourists alike.
‘What can I get you?’ Jake asks as we wait by the bar.
I think for a moment. I haven’t got to drive; I’m supposed to be staying in my grandmother’s old cottage while I’m here.
‘A pint, please.’
Jake looks surprised.
‘Never seen a girl drink a pint before?’ I ask, raising my eyebrows.
