Page 86 of The Little Flower Shop By the Sea
Stan tells me all about his life at the home. All the activities they get up to, outings they have, and friends he has made over his years at Camberley. He has to pause to remember sometimes, his mind not recalling as fast as he’d like it to. But I listen patiently, giving him time to reminisce.
‘So now I’ve told you all about me, what about you?’ Stan asks. ‘What have you been doing all this time – and more importantly, how are you getting on in that flower shop? I half thought you might bring me a posy, like the old days.’
‘No, no flowers, but I did bring you this,’ I say, reaching down into my handbag. I produce a paper bag and pass it to Stan.
‘Ah, this is just like the old days,’ he says, sniffing inside the bag. ‘Fresh this morning?’
I nod. ‘From the Blue Canary bakery.’
Stan looks puzzled.
‘Oh, it used to be Mr Bumbles, but it has new owners now. They’re very good though,’ I assure him.
‘I’ll save it for my tea then.’ He smiles, putting the bag down on the table next to him. ‘The pasties they give you here aren’t much cop – supermarket rubbish. That will go down a treat, thank you. So tell me all about Daisy Chain. Lou said you were back in St Felix. Such a shame about your grandmother though – fine, fine woman she was.’
‘Yes, she was,’ I agree, thinking about her.
‘But now the shop has fresh blood – a new chance to shine, and it will shine brightly with you at the helm, I’m sure.’
I shrug. ‘Perhaps. We’re doing all right.’
‘Only all right? Are you using thebooks?’
‘You know about those?’
‘Of course I do. That shop has been special since the original Daisy took it on in Victorian times. She used the Victorian language of flowers to produce her own form of the magic, but the whole shop is charmed. Shall I tell you a story?’ he asks, his eyes lighting up.
‘Sure,’ I say, remembering how Stan used to love telling us tales as children. Much as I want to get on to how he ended up moving away from Trecarlan, I guess it can wait for a few minutes.
‘Well, the old story goes that the ground the shop was built on was once blessed by the Cornish sorceress, Zethar. Zethar was being tried for witchcraft, but she escaped her persecutors, fled, and found herself in St Felix. The townsfolk took pity on her plight, and hid and looked after her until her persecutors had ridden through the town. In return for their kindness, Zethar cast a spell over the building she had been hidden in and the ground beneath it, saying that whoever inhabited any building built on the land in the future would be protected from harm. Then she cast a final spell over the whole town, saying that anyone who came here would always be safe, and find happiness and contentment within its boundaries whatever their plight might be, and that’s how St Felix got its name. Because Felix means —’
‘Happy!’ I finish for him. ‘Yes, I’d forgotten, but I did know that. But really, Stan,’ I say gently, ‘I’m not eight years old now. Do you expect me to believe that fairy tale you just told me?’
‘Whether you choose to believe it is up to you, but it’s the truth,’ Stan says, leaning back in his chair.
I know I should leave it. Stan is an elderly man, what harm would it do for him to believe his stories were true? But I just can’t, fairy tales, myths and legends didn’t sit any easier with me than Amber’s holistic and spiritual ways, or the notion that certain types of flowers could heal people – even though I’d heard first-hand accounts of it happening.
‘How do you know it’s the truth?’ I ask. ‘That story is centuries old; someone could have made it up when they were a bit bored one day.’
Stan regards me through a pair of sharp sea-green eyes. ‘You don’t change,’ he says eventually. ‘Even as a young girl you were always questioning my tales.’
‘Was I?’
Stan nods. ‘Your brother would just sit and listen politely, but you,’ he smiles, ‘you would always want proof, and the reasons why.’
I open my mouth to reply, but Stan continues:
‘And that’s good, Poppy. Youshouldquestion things; you should want to know why.Whyis a very difficult thing to answer sometimes, though…’ He watches me for a few seconds. ‘Is the magic working?’ he asks. ‘In the shop, first of all?’
‘Well…’ I choose my words carefully, ‘Amber’s special bouquets are proving very popular.’
‘Does she tie them with a white ribbon?’
‘Yes.’
Stan smiles approvingly. ‘And secondly, is the magic of St Felix working for you?’
‘How do you mean?’
