The Garden of Memories

Chapter 25

Flora and Louise are standing outside the nursery door in the village, pondering. Well, Louise is pondering, Flora has already pondered and reached a decision. She taps the glass window of the case containing a noticeboard. ‘Just go in and ask, Weez. What could it hurt?’

Louise pushes her spectacles up the bridge of her nose and frowns. ‘I don’t want to look stupid. And stop calling me Weez.’

Flora chuckles. ‘Spoilsport, I like calling you Weez. And why would you look stupid?’

‘I’m nearly sixty-six and have no experience of working with children, so they’ll most probably feel embarrassed for me if I enquire.’ She turns from the noticeboard and looks at Flora. ‘Heck, I’ll feel embarrassed for me if I enquire.’

Flora is hopeful that all Louise needs is a little push. ‘Look, you’ve been talking about this since you saw the advert last week.’ She taps the glass again and reads, ‘Part-time help needed for the play group, two half days per week. Please ask inside for more details. Where does it say you have to be young, or that you need experience?’

Louise shifts her eyes to the advert again, though Flora imagines she knows it word for word. ‘It doesn’t, but—’

‘Never mind “but”. And anyway, you have the Wesley experience to draw on – that’s up there with snake-charming as a very dangerous occupation. Lion taming, even. But you make it look easy.’ There’s a flicker of amusement dancing at one corner of Louise’s mouth but nothing else is forthcoming. ‘Right. Go and ask, I’ll wait for you.’ As there’s still no response or movement from her friend, Flora makes as if to go inside. ‘I’ll ask for you then, shall I?’

‘No! Gosh, you’re such a nag.’ Louise straightens her already straight pale-blue cotton jacket cuffs and checks her navy canvas shoes for dust – Flora’s pleased to note the highly polished lace-up-type ones seem to have completely disappeared. ‘Right, cover me. I’m going in.’

Flora laughs out loud as she watches her friend march straight-backed through the door of the nursery. Weez has certainly blossomed, relaxed and grown a good number of new shoots since she started to visit the garden of memories. And though Flora was joking about Wesley, he really was putty in Louise’s hands. His sunflower was at least five feet high now, a good head and shoulders above Molly’s. Wesley would show his sunflower to anybody and everybody who visited, proudly standing by while (at his insistence) they took a photo of him by its side, looking up in wonderment.

As she waits, her phone goes off in her pocket. Two messages. She opens Rose’s first.

Great news! Josh has a job learning on the job with the National Trust! I know you’re with Weez today, can you let her know? I sent her a message but she’s not seen it and I sent it ages ago. She’ll be so proud he’s following in Matthew’s footsteps. Xx

Flora sends back: That’s the best news! I’m so thrilled! Xx

Weez will be thrilled as well. She can’t wait to pass the news on. She smiles to herself. Though she’s not sure her friend will be similarly thrilled to know that Rose is now using ‘Weez’ too.

The second message is from James.

Hi there, if you have no plans this weekend, would you like to go out for a drink on Saturday? Possibly a meal? J x

Flora feels more than a few butterflies mass together in her chest. This is unexpected – both the butterflies and the invite. Hitherto, she and James have gone to Rose’s to paint, and once or twice out for coffee – normally on the way to, or on the way back from the garden, or last week, to an exhibition of local artists. But this sounds more like … the word ‘date’ hovers in her mind, tries to settle, make itself comfortable, but Flora pulls the rug from under it. Yes, she sees James as a kindred spirit, yes, he makes her laugh, yes, they share many interests, but that’s as far as it can go. The whole romantic thing is preposterous. At their age, for goodness’ sake? The very idea of it. It would be an unmitigated disaster – two old crocks trying to be Romeo and Juliet? Besides, if it went wrong, it might very possibly ruin their lovely friendship.

How should she respond without seeming rude, though? She knows that James will have seen that she has seen his message, because of the two little blue ticks. So he might be wondering why she’s taking so long to answer. Then Louise comes through the door and provides the perfect excuse.

Out with Louise. Will check my diary and get back to you. F x

She hesitates over leaving the x, but he sent one, and it’d be churlish not to return it. Everyone leaves a kiss nowadays anyway. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s like additional bloody punctuation. She sends her reply and looks up at Louise with a big smile that feels a bit guilty, for some reason. Mother whispers something, but she’s instantly slapped down.

‘Guess what!’ Flora waves her phone at Louise. ‘Josh has got a job with the National Trust!’

Louise clasps her hands to her chest in delight. ‘How wonderful!’

‘It is. Rose messaged you, but I expect you’ve left your phone at home, as usual.’

‘Yes, like you, I’m not fond of them.’ Louse’s hazel eyes shine with happiness. ‘It’s so incredible that Josh will be following in Matthew’s footsteps. I know without a doubt he’ll do so well! Such a lovely young man.’

Flora couldn’t agree more. They chat about Josh for a few minutes, and then she remembers why they’re standing in the street outside the nursery. ‘So, what did they say?’

Louise pushes her glasses along her nose and says through a big smile, ‘They said they would like to give me a trial day to see how I get on with the children, and if I think it’s for me.’

‘What a brilliant day this is turning into!’ Flora says, then remembers the message from James. Well, apart from that.

‘It is. They weren’t concerned that I had no formal training. I mean, it’s not as if it’s many hours, and it’s voluntary too. But I did tell them about Molly and Wesley. Wesley especially. In fact, I did go on a bit, which as you know, isn’t me.’

‘It didn’t used to be, but you’re more outgoing and upbeat lately. It’s nice to see.’ Flora hopes this doesn’t sound too patronising.

‘I think so too.’ She squeezes Flora’s arm. ‘It’s got a lot to do with you. You pulled me out of myself, got me to trust people again.’ Louise’s face is bright red now and Flora knows sharing like this isn’t easy for her.

‘Well, thank you. It has a lot to do with Rose’s garden and a certain bundle of energy called Wesley, too.’

Louise laughs. ‘You’re right there.’ She slips her arm through Flora’s and points along the street. ‘Okay, let’s go and have some cake and coffee to celebrate. My treat.’

Flora is thrilled her lighthouse quest has been successful. The old lamp just needed a bit of a polish, after all. Job done. Was she at last overcoming her recent worries about hiding behind clothes of many colours? Was she actually much more than a drab garden fronted by a pretty gate? She thinks so. Although, as they walk towards the café, Flora thinks about James’s message again and wishes she had someone to guide her to safe waters too.

* * *

Rose knows she has to get this right. Flora has that beady-eyed ‘miss nothing’ stare as they sit opposite each other on the picnic bench. Flora’s hair is twisted into a messy top knot, strands of which have escaped and keep blowing across her eyes, but she still stares at Rose unflinchingly. ‘More wine?’ she asks, tilting the bottle of red over Flora’s glass.

‘Not until you answer my question, Rose. You’re doing my head in, as the youngsters say.’

‘Okay. Do I think that James has romantic intentions towards you, and is this a date you’d be going on? I have to say yes, and yes, I think it would be.’ Rose holds her breath and hopes Flora doesn’t go off like a firework. She’s already told Rose that she’d hate to lose James as a friend, but that she’s afraid that’s exactly what would happen if she agreed to go for this drink or meal on Saturday.

Flora puts her head in her hands and says to the table-top, ‘Gawd. I feared as much. I knew I wasn’t imagining it.’

Rose thinks she might as well come clean. ‘Yes. I’m not surprised, to be honest. There is a lovely energy between you two. You are very alike and … I don’t know … kind of fit together really well.’

Flora’s head jerks up as if someone has pulled an attached string. ‘Eh? You think I like him too … in that way?’

Come on, Rose, no time to chicken out now.‘Erm … yeah, I think you do.’

‘But we’re in our late seventies, for God’s sake! Well, I am,’ Flora says, aghast.

‘I don’t see why that matters.’

Flora opens and closes her mouth a few times, then resorts to sighing and shaking her head. ‘The whole thing is preposterous. How … I mean … I don’t think I could … you know … at my age.’

Rose watches a crimson tide rise up her entire face. Does she mean what Rose thinks she means? Luckily, her ‘used to be a nurse’ experience comes to her rescue. Flora needs no-nonsense advice. ‘If you’re talking about sex, there’s no reason why you can’t, Flora. But intercourse isn’t the only way to express intimacy. Maybe a nice cuddle in each other’s arms as you’re falling asleep will be just as fulfilling.’

Flora’s complexion is slowly returning to normal, as is her sense of humour. ‘Thank God. I can’t be doing with bedroom aerobics at my age. I’ve only indulged a handful of times, as it is!’ Her braying laughter puts them both at ease and she accepts more wine.

‘So, you admit to having romantic feelings for him?’ Rose presses gently.

An exaggerated lift and shrug of the shoulders. ‘I’m not sure. Who knows? Yeah, okay, I might. But what if it goes wrong? What if it’s awkward? What if it ruins what we have?’

‘What if it doesn’t? You need to stop worrying about what ifs.’ That’s rich coming from you, Rose. ‘Just go along on Saturday and see where it takes you.’

Flora stares at the Philadelphus, her expression unreadable. ‘Hmm. Maybe James has no romantic feelings for me anyway. Maybe I’m reading too much into it.’

‘Maybe you’re not. If I had to bet, I’d say he does. But don’t overthink things. Enjoy the evening, relax and have fun.’

‘Where do you think we should go? Nowhere too quiet or obviously romantic. It would feel really awkward then.’

Rose considers this as she spots another agapanthus, much smaller than the one in the bee pot, but an aggie nevertheless, shooting out from behind a patch of heather. Nature never ceases to amaze her. ‘You could always come and watch me sing with the band in the local pub?’ Eh?? Where the fuck did that come from? Rose feels her own crimson tide start up and she turns her face to the sea breeze.

‘Oh, I didn’t realise you were doing that!’

‘Neither did I, until this second, apparently. I’ve been pondering on it and it appears I’ve made a decision.’

‘How lovely. And yes, I think that would be ideal. We could have a meal earlier and then wait for your performance. Perfect! I’ll message him back now.’

Rose takes a deep breath of salt air and holds it, and then allows its slow release. What on earth made her come out with that? She’d almost decided she wouldn’t do the gig after all, just before Flora rang and asked if she could pop over this evening. It all seemed a bit too much, if she was honest. Singing in front of friends and family was one thing, singing in front of complete strangers who may or may not be receptive to her, was another. Then from nowhere she’s decided the complete bloody opposite. The little agapanthus catches her eye again, and she wonders if the decision actually came from nowhere after all.

‘Well, I messaged him. I feel all schoolgirly and wiggly inside.’ Flora’s eyes are bright with excitement and Rose is glad.

‘What’s schoolgirly?’ Rose laughs.

‘It’s how I feel inside. Do pay attention.’ Flora laughs in return. ‘What a day of surprises it’s been. Josh gets his dream job, Weez is maybe going to work at the nursery, I’m going on a date.’ She throws her arms up and a row of metal bangles clash together as they slip down her arm. ‘A date, I tell you! And you’re going to be gigging with a band. Amazing!’

That’s one word for it.‘Yes. It’s certainly that.’

‘Mum! Mum!’ Bella comes running up the path from the house, a huge smile on her face, eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘Nigel’s just phoned. You know I told you he’d got through to the last two on the panel at his interview, and that they’d let him know this evening or tomorrow?’

‘Ye-s.’ Rose’s heart is doing loops and she hopes she knows what’s coming.

‘They just called him. He’s got it! He’s got the job and he’s moving back here just as soon as he’s worked out his notice!’

Rose leaps up, arms outstretched, and is caught in a half-hug, coupled with a crazy circular jumping dance. Flora joins in and they all whoop and yell at the tops of their voices. Rose laughs and feels the tension and apprehension about Saturday drain into the grass underfoot.

‘What a bloody momentous day this has been,’ Flora gasps, leaning a hand on the table to get her breath back and steady herself.

‘It certainly has,’ Rose agrees, just as Molly and Wesley poke their heads out of their bedroom window.

‘What’s all the yelling about? We’re trying to sleep here!’ Molly shouts.

The three women look at each other and burst out laughing, which makes Molly even more disgruntled. She huffs and bangs the window closed. ‘We should pull ourselves together,’ Bella giggles.

‘No. I like being not together. It’s a freeing experience,’ Flora guffaws.

‘Yes, I’m all for being not together too!’ Rose punches the air, which sets them all off again.

* * *

Later that evening as she gets into bed, Rose watches the full moon ride high above her garden and is happy to find no trace of apprehension or worry in her mind about the gig. Like the moon, this is her time to shine, and she’s really looking forward to it.

* * *

By the time Saturday arrives, Rose is feeling a little differently. It’s one thing lying in bed imagining how lovely it will all be, performing in front of strangers, sharing her love of singing, wrapped up in the excitement of it all, but it’s another thing waiting backstage (the ladies’ cloakroom) ten minutes before curtain up, with her stomach churning like an old washing machine. Running the tap, she holds both wrists under the cold water to cool herself down and calm her nerves. Rose’s mum told her that trick years ago and it normally works, but her hands are shaking so much, she suspects it will fail her this evening.

Through the mirror she sees the door open and in bursts Flora, resplendent in black and gold. The black trousers are smart and tailored, while the sequinned top is reminiscent of something a game-show host might have worn in the 1980s. Nevertheless, with her hair piled up in a messy bun, sparkly earrings, winged eyeliner and bright-pink lipstick, Flora somehow manages to pull off the entire ensemble, in the way that only Flora can.

Rose turns off the tap and musters a smile, though it isn’t returned. Flora looks rattled, harassed, out of sorts – a manifestation of Rose’s own feelings. Despite her outfit, Rose thinks Flora appears somehow diminished … but why? Then she spots it. The air of confidence that is normally worn as one of her accessories is missing this evening. ‘You okay, Flora?’

Flora shrugs slightly and considers her pink nail varnish as if she’s surprised to see it. ‘I really don’t know. I was so looking forward to this evening. I was fine when I left the house, fine when I walked into this pub, and fine when I bought myself a drink. But as soon as James came through the door, I had this overwhelming need to use the toilet. Except I didn’t. I made it up so I could escape.’ She looks at Rose, sad and bewildered. ‘What if I’ve made a mistake agreeing to this date, or whatever you want to call it? What if it’s awkward?’ She presses her lips together as if to stop any more what ifs coming out, and stares at her reflection in the mirror.

Rose can sympathise, totally. She feels exactly the same about agreeing to sing. Nevertheless, her friend needs her. ‘Hey, we’ve been through this. It will all be fine once you relax and have a few drinks. I’m nervous too. Here, do what I do.’ Rose runs the cold tap and explains to Flora about the calming effect. Flora frowns but does it anyway, and then a flicker of a smile hovers at the corner of her mouth.

‘Hmm, it does seem to help a little.’ She pulls a paper towel from the dispenser and dries her hands. ‘And you have absolutely nothing to be nervous about, Rose.’ She sweeps a hand over the length of her. ‘You look absolutely stunning in midnight blue. Is that dress new?’ Before Rose can reply, she continues, ‘And your voice is extraordinary. Everyone will love you, believe me.’

Rose looks at the sparkle in Flora’s eye and her big smile, and does believe her. A quiet calm and confidence is making a few inroads, and with her friend’s hand in hers, she thinks she can do this. ‘Thanks, Flora. And I might say the same thing. You look stunning and James will love you, believe me.’

Flora makes a squawking sound and flaps a hand. ‘Eh? Love? Too soon for all that malarkey. Come on. Let’s get out there before we both change our minds!’

Arm in arm, they walk through the door laughing. James raises a hand and Rose gives Flora a little push. ‘Go and knock his socks off,’ she whispers in her ear. Before Flora can respond, she hurries over to where the band are warming up on the little stage.

Tristan looks up from his guitar, smiles at her, and suddenly the nerves come rushing back in. The other band members start chatting to her and she answers questions, nods and smiles in all the right places, while all the time her heart is thrashing about against her ribs. Then across the room she sees Flora give her the thumbs up and James raises his glass to her. She realises she isn’t alone; she has friends here. Rose takes a breath and lets Flora’s pep talk fill her mind. It will all be fine, everyone will love it…

Tristan comes over and says quietly, ‘You okay? You seem a bit nervous.’

Rose sighs. She’s not such a good actress after all, then. ‘I am. This is the first time I’ve sung in front of people I don’t know.’

‘You’ll be great. Just sing like you did at Sally’s do, let yourself go and lose yourself in the music.’ Rose smiles and he tilts his head towards hers. ‘I’ll be next to you if you need a prompt. I’ll mime the lines.’

This makes her laugh. He always used to make her laugh and she immediately feels more relaxed. Dear Tristan, he was always in her corner when they were young, and she realises he’s there for her now, too. They all are. ‘Thanks, Tristan. I think I’m ready now.’

Steve takes the mike and introduces the band to the packed room. There’s a ripple of applause and everyone waits expectantly. There are loads of people here … many more than she imagined. Okay, Rose. Time to shine. Rose blows a kiss to Flora as the introduction to ‘Dreams’ starts up, and after the first line, her nerves vanish. Her voice sounds strong and confident, as though she’s been doing this kind of thing all her life. The crowd are swaying with the music, waving their arms to and fro in time with the beat, and they are smiling. Rose is too, inside. An incredible surge of joy rushes through her and she abandons herself to the moment. Unspoken questions that filled her mind as she ran water onto her wrists, and just now before she began to sing find answers. This is why she does it. This is what it’s all for. Making herself and others happy. She’s so proud of herself, and Glen would have been too.

* * *

‘Wow, they’re absolutely fantastic!’ James yells in Flora’s ear, after the band launch into their fourth song. ‘Even better than last time in Rose’s garden!’

Flora realises he has to shout above the music, but her poor ear is begging for mercy. ‘Yes,’ she yells back. ‘Absolutely incredible!’ And they are. She can hardly believe that’s her lovely friend Rose up there, looking like … well, like a famous popstar. It’s as if a light has come on within her and it’s shining on all of them. Flora is thrilled that Rose went ahead with it, and when she looks up at James swaying next to her, his eyes dancing in the spotlights, she’s thrilled that she went ahead with him too.

James catches her gazing at him and takes her in his arms. ‘Dance with me, Flora,’ he whispers in her ear, which she has to admit is so much nicer than his yelling. There’s a little tingle developing as his breath and lips brush her neck. Goodness, she feels quite giddy.

‘I haven’t danced in years,’ she laughs up at him. Certainly not with a partner.

‘Nor I. But it feels like we should.’ James’s smile is both encouraging and something else. Something else that she’s not altogether comfortable with. It’s … it’s sexy. There. She’s admitted it. What on earth is happening to her?

As if she has no choice in the matter, her feet start to move in time with the music, following James’s lead, and soon he pulls her closer. So close that there’s nothing between them at all, apart from the thudding of her heart against his. Here she is, Flora Granger, a spinster in her seventy-eighth year, dancing with a man. A handsome, sexy man. Stealing a glance up, their eyes meet, and an overwhelming feeling of belonging finds a home in her heart. Belonging and joy. Hell, she feels lifted, intoxicated, like a young girl again as they turn in a slow circle.

James smiles again, his eyes holding hers in an intense gaze, and without thinking too much about whether it’s a good idea, she says, ‘This is lovely. I’m so happy right now, James.’

He drops a soft kiss on her cheek and whispers in her ear again, ‘So am I, Flora. And it’s all because of you.’