Page 1 of You've Got The Love
Chapter 1
Amber
Imean, who wants a flower arrangement made solely of yellow and pink bloody carnations?I can’t help screwing up my face as I look through the day's orders. I absolutely hate carnations; in my opinion, they're the worst flowers ever. I feel like I do have a little authority on the matter as I own the sweetest flower shop on my tiny island. Granted, there is only one flower shop on my tiny island, but still, it's the sweetest.‘Wild Ones’, I love the name so much, I smile each time I see it. Also, I must say it’s not‘my’island, but the island I was born and raised on and have lived on ever since—Hampstead Island. It’s situated on the south coast ofEngland, accessible only by a small bridge (or boat, obviously), in the beautiful county ofHampshire. In the summertime, it’s glorious, with our sandy beaches that stretch on for miles along the coast. We also tend to have hot summers, being the closest part of the country to France, but the winters here can be pretty bleak. Weoften drop below freezing, but we don’t face the same harsh conditions as they do up North and in Scotland. They regularly have a ton of snow and can spend weeks in the minus figures. Growing up in the winter was hard; there wasn’t much to do, nothing in place for teenagers, so we did the usual: we sat on a freezing beach, huddled together in our big winter coats and beanies, drinking cheap cider from plastic bottles that we’d managed to get older kids to buy for us. I shudder thinking about drinking that stuff, but I also can’t help but smile at the memories. Nowadays, I love all seasons here, but autumn is my favourite. The colour of the trees, hot cocoa, …
“And don’t we look fancy today, boss… I can’t imagine why?” Jess, one of my florists, announces her arrival as she stows her coat in the cupboard and sidles up next to me, wagging her eyebrows. She is a constant bloom of colour, from her shiny red Doc Martens to her bubblegum-pink hair, which changes frequently. Her personality is just as loud as her fashion sense, and over the years of her working here, we’ve become close friends. She’s fiercely loyal, outspoken, and unapologetically herself. I adore her.
“I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about…” I sing-song back, biting my lips to stop the huge smile trying to break free as I look down at my fitted checked shirt, blue jeans that may or may not make my bum look great, and my best work boots, in place of my old ratty ones. And of course, my navy-blue apron with ‘Wild Ones’ embroidered on it.
“Mmmmhmmm… fancy a cuppa?” She asks as she looks through today’s work clips.
“Sure do, sweet. Busy day ahead. How did the date go?”
“Urrrghhh… don’t ask! The guy was a bore. Like, he wore a suit. On a first date! To a pub. Then proceeded to tell me what was wrong with the wine I was drinking. Which made me drink said terrible wine faster! I swear I’m getting off these dating sites.”
“You know you say that once a week, right?” I look at her, grinning. How she hasn’t found a decent guy, with the amount of first dates she’s been on, I have no idea.
“Well, it's true… for a few days at least,” she laughs, and I hear her finishing our teas as I make my way across the shop floor to open up.
I might never have been in love at the age of 27, but I know I love my shop. It was my dream since I was a girl to own a florist, and I worked my bum off to make that a reality at 24. I juggled two, and sometimes even three, jobs at a time to save up. From stacking shelves and cleaning houses to my full-time job as a florist on the mainland. No job was below me to make my dream come true. It’s beautiful, yes, I’m biased, but it truly is beautiful. It’s full of a riot of colour, from the tall vases of fragrant blooms to the vases and pots made by local artisans who have a shelf or two each here, and there are beautiful paintings by Jess of the island, our beaches and open spaces, hung around the shop. She is exceptionally talented, and as I stand here, I lose myself ina painting of the colourful beach huts along the seafront until I see a steaming mug pushed in front of my face.
“Neck that, boss, you’ve got that wedding consultation in an hour,” she says ominously.
“Thank you, I’m gonna to need it. I’m going to pop over to Bea and grab a croissant. Want one?” I offer as I sip my milky tea.
“Oh, you know the way to my heart, Ms Bell. You know I can’t turn down one of her pain au chocolat.” She pretends to swoon as she begins collecting the flowers she needs for the first order of the day.
I stow my mug on my counter safely, then flip the door sign to ‘open’ and make my way across to‘Isabella’s’the bakers, for our morning treats. Every time I walk into the bakery and the smell of frosting, coffee, and pastry hits me, I know there’s no way I could work here and not end up the size ofJabba the Hut. It’s crammed in here this morning; all the tables are occupied, which is normal for this time of the day.
I see Mrs Davenport, my neighbour from when I was a little girl, and I swear she hasn’t aged a bit. She waves me over as I weave through the packed tables.
“Hello, dear, how are you today?” She asks, putting her cup of tea down. She’s dressed in her usual blouse, skirt, and low heels combo, with a floral brooch on her blouse. She’s dressed like this every day that I can remember.
“I’m good but busy, thank you, Mrs D. You?” I say as I crouch down next to her.
“I’m fine. How’s the shop doing?”
“Very busy! But I wouldn’t have it any other way. We have so many weddings booked in for the next two years, which I’m so excited about.”
“Joan would be so proud of you, dear,” she whispers as she pats and cups my cheek gently.
“I hope she would have been. I miss Nan so much, but I love my memories of being in the garden with her,” I whisper back, emotions swirling as they always do, thinking about my beloved grandmother. Mrs D and my nan were close friends all their lives, or I should say, all my nan’s life.
“I can’t believe it's been nine years since she passed. Life goes by so quickly. But we have much to be thankful for, dear. Any young men on the scene?”
“No. I don’t have time at the moment. I barely have time for myself. One day, maybe.”
“It’s a crime that a handsome young man hasn’t swept you off your feet. A beautiful girl like you deserves a hunky man,” she wags her eyebrows at me, which causes me to laugh out loud.
“Mrs D! There’s more to you than meets the eye.”
“I was married and had five kids, I know all about the birds and bees,” she announces with a big smile on her face. Oh, I just love her.Saucy minx.
“Mrs D, I’ll never look at you the same,” I laugh. “Anyway, I gotta get going, busy day and all that,” I kiss her cheek and smile down at her.
“Have a good day, dear. And you never know when Cupid will fire his bow,” she calls after me as I weave through the tables to the counter, making me whirl to blow her a kiss.
The glass cabinets are chock-a-block today; there’s everything you could possibly want in here. Cupcakes with huge swirls of frosting on top, Mille-feuille brimming with custard or fresh cream, apple turnovers, egg tarts, donuts, croissants, and Jess’s precious pain au chocolat.
