Page 84 of The Little Flower Shop By the Sea
‘Yes, it’s definitely picking up.’
‘Good, I’m glad to hear it,’ Lou says, putting the kettle on to boil and turning to face me. ‘I had a feeling things would improve. Now, what can I do for you? I’m sensing this isn’t simply a social call.’
‘Do you know where Stan is?’ I ask without any preamble.
‘Yes, of course I do. Why, would you like to visit him?’
I nod.
Lou goes to a drawer and pulls out a white business card. ‘Here,’ she says, handing it to me. ‘Camberley House, it’s a lovely residential home up in Bude.’
‘Bude! But I thought Stan was a long way away – Babs said “Up North”.’
Lou smiles. ‘Well, it is North Cornwall.’
‘If I’d known he was so close, I’d have gone before,’ I say, staring at the card.
‘Would you, though?’ Lou asks gently. ‘Maybe you’ve waited until it’s therighttime to go, for you and for him?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Poppy, you’ve had a lot to deal with since you arrived here in St Felix, and I’m not just talking about the shop and dear old Basil. Perhaps you weren’t ready to see Stan before.’
I look across the kitchen at her.
‘But now, Poppy,’ she says deliberately. ‘Now I know you are.’
Twenty-nine
Chrysanthemum – Truth
I’m back in the Range Rover again, heading out of St Felix for the first time in ages.
I drive along the narrow twisty roads, thinking all the time about Stan, Will, and what I’m going to do today.
When I arrive in Bude, the satnav helpfully directs me through the busy streets teeming with holidaymakers, until on the other side of the town we drive down a quiet residential road, and I’m instructed I’ve ‘reached my destination’.
Camberley House is a large modern bungalow situated on an extensive plot amongst immaculately mown lawns and perfect flower beds. I park my car on the gravel drive and climb out. As I do an elderly man smiles at me as he hobbles past with the assistance of a wooden stick.
‘Reception is that way,’ he calls, pointing in the direction of the front door with his stick. ‘You look a bit lost, dearie.’
‘Ah, thank you,’ I say, looking towards a frosted glass door. ‘Yes, it’s my first time here.’
‘Well, I’m sure whoever you’ve come to visit will be glad to see you,’ he says, nodding. ‘We usually are.’
He gives me a quick salute and hobbles on his way, so I head towards reception.
Just inside the door I find a cosy hallway with a polished wooden table acting as a reception desk.
‘Good afternoon,’ says a smartly dressed lady sitting behind the table. ‘Welcome to Camberley House. How can I help you?’
‘I’d like to see Stan, please, if I may?’
‘Stan?’ she questions. ‘Do you have a surname?’
‘Er…’ I hadn’t thought about this. I only knew him as Mad Stan the Pasty Man. ‘I don’t actually know his surname.’
‘Hmm…’ The woman looks quizzically at me. ‘We can’t let just anyone in here, you know, there are rules, and our residents’ care and safety is foremost here at Camberley.’
