Page 95 of The Little Flower Shop By the Sea
‘They’ll be fine,’ Jake says, gesturing for me to go inside. ‘We’ll only be a minute.’
I take a deep breath and step inside a greenhouse full of brightly coloured flowers.
‘This is the batch that will go out tomorrow,’ Jake says proudly. ‘To your shop, and the many more I supply around the area. Some will go up to Covent Garden tonight, for the market tomorrow.’
‘Really?’ I ask, trying to breathe without taking in too much of the smell, which is extremely hard to do. The scent of the flowers in here is overpoweringly sweet.
‘Yes, these are my flowers at their very best.’ He steps away from the door, further into the greenhouse. ‘These beauties are in peak condition – come see.’
I have no choice but to step further into the greenhouse. Either side of me on great long tables are more flowers than our little shop could hold ten times over. I can see carnations, chrysanthemums, lilies – I try not to look any further down the greenhouse for fear of spotting a rose.
‘How do you get them just right?’ I ask, avoiding looking at the flowers too much, by concentrating hard on Jake. ‘Don’t some go to waste if they’re past their best?’
‘No, we keep the glasshouses at different temperatures – colder to hold them back from blossoming too early, and warmer if we need to bring them on a bit faster.’
‘What temperature is this one?’ I ask, as Jake moves closer to me. Today he’s wearing blue jeans, tan Timberland boots, and my favourite of his many checked shirts. It opens just far enough to allow me a glimpse of the beginnings of his sandy-coloured chest hair. Swiftly I look up at his face as I realise where I’m gazing.
‘This one is just perfect,’ he says in a low voice, looking at me.
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Jake moves closer to me, so I can feel his warm breath on my face, he leans down towards me and…
‘Do you have roses in here?’ I suddenly demand as a familiar scent begins to engulf me.
‘What?’ Jake asks, looking confused.
‘Roses – I think I can smell them.’
‘Yes, about two hundred. They’re down at the bottom of the glasshouse, did you want to see them?’
‘Two… two hundred roses… in here?’
‘Yes, but —’
‘Sorry, Jake, I really gotta go.’ I run for the door of the greenhouse and as I fumble with the handle, I begin to panic even more, terrified I can’t get out.
A large hand reaches over me and opens it with ease.
I stumble out and begin taking large gulps of fresh air as quickly as I can.
‘What on earth is wrong, Poppy?’ Jake asks, following me. He shuts the door of the greenhouse behind him, and it’s as if he’s just wiped out all the roses on the planet by doing so. My breathing begins to recover, and I become a sane (well, fairly sane) person once more.
‘Nothing, I just remembered I have to be somewhere. Now.’ I begin to walk back towards Jake’s farmhouse. ‘Come on, Basil!’ I call, and to my relief for once he obeys and follows me.
‘Ah, right, I see what you’re doing,’ Jake calls after me, not moving. ‘I get it – this is payback time.’
I turn to look at him, and for a split second wonder whether to tell him everything.
‘No, you don’t get it,’ I mumble to myself as I turn and carry on down the hill with Basil next to me. ‘That’s the thing. No one does.’
Thirty-three
Pink Carnation – I Will Never Forget You
The next day I’m sitting in the gardens of Camberley House with Stan. It’s a hot sunny afternoon, so we sit in two deckchairs, partially shaded by the branches of a huge oak tree.
‘Are you OK, Poppy?’ Stan asks, looking at me with concern. ‘You seem a bit subdued today. Is everything going well with the plans for the birthday party?’
I’d asked Stan if we could use Trecarlan for Jake’s birthday party, and of course he’d agreed.
