Three Snapdragon – Presumption
Three
Snapdragon – Presumption
The Merry Mermaid must have been carved from the same piece of rock St Felix originally grew from. This pub hotel has stood on the harbour front for as long as I can recall, and even though I haven’t been back to St Felix for over fifteen years it’s still exactly as I remember.
The décor and the owners may have changed over time, but the ambience inside remains the same – warm and welcoming to friends old and new, visitors and tourists alike.
‘What can I get you?’ Jake asks as we wait by the bar.
I think for a moment. I haven’t got to drive; I’m supposed to be staying in my grandmother’s old cottage while I’m here.
‘A pint, please.’
Jake looks surprised.
‘Never seen a girl drink a pint before?’ I ask, raising my eyebrows.
‘Yes of course I have,’ he says brusquely. ‘I assume you mean a pint of beer though… not spirits?’ Jake’s eyebrows rise to match mine – but beneath them his eyes twinkle.
I have to smile. ‘Yes… a pint of beer will be fine, thank you.’
‘Two pints of my usual, please, Rita.’ Jake turns towards the lady behind the bar, who is wearing the most fabulous fifties-style floral dress. Her bright red hair, which is piled up into a beehive, adds to the retro effect.
‘Of course, lovey,’ Rita says. ‘Anything for Miley?’ She waves at Jake’s monkey.
‘She’s good at the moment, thanks, Rita.’
Miley is currently sitting on the bar, playing with the beer mats.
‘Righty-ho!’ Rita looks at me with interest as she reaches for two pint glasses. ‘Have we met before?’ she asks. ‘I feel I might know you.’
‘This is Poppy,’ Jake explains before I can answer. ‘She’s Rose’s granddaughter.’
Rita’s face lights up. ‘Oh my love, I knew I recognised you – you are the spit of your grandmother!’ Then her face falls and she takes on a more sombre expression. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ she says. ‘Rose was well loved around here. How are you bearing up?’
I open my mouth to reply.
‘Silly question!’ Rita says, shaking her head. ‘Of course, you’re still in mourning, aren’t you? I should have known by your clothes. Richie!’ she shrieks, making me jump, as a man appears at the other end of the bar. ‘Come see who it is.’
Richie finishes serving his customer and ambles along behind the bar. He’s wearing blue jeans and a brightly patterned floral shirt. He nods at me.
‘It’s only Rose’s granddaughter,’ Rita gushes.
‘Yes, I can see that.’ Richie holds out his hand. ‘Very pleased to meet you. Poppy, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but how do you know?’
‘Your mother called yesterday, said to expect you.’
Is there anyone in St Felix my mother hasn’t called?
‘I see you’ve already met Jake,’ he says. ‘And Miley.’
Miley has given up her game of trying to balance the beer mats into a tower and is now busy shredding them into as many pieces as she can.
‘I have, yes. Jake popped into the shop earlier.’
‘Oh, are you going to take over the florist’s?’ Rita asks excitedly. ‘How wonderful!’ She looks with relief at Richie. He nods.
‘Poppy is probably going to sell the shop,’ Jake tells them before I can speak.
I glare at him, but he carries on calmly sipping at his beer.
I smile awkwardly at Rita and Richie. ‘The truth is, I haven’t decided yet.’
Jake’s statement seems to have temporarily silenced them both. But it’s Richie who speaks first: ‘I see. Well, it would be a real shame if you did, young lady. But it’s your decision, and if that’s what you want, I can only wish you a speedy and profitable sale.’
Rita has turned a shade of red that is on its way to matching her hair.
‘You can’t sell the shop!’ she suddenly explodes. ‘Sorry, Richie, I know the customer is always right and everything, but she can’t sell that shop – Rose loved it. It’s special is that place. You know it is.’ She gives him a meaningful look.
A few people in the bar turn around to see what Rita is venting about.
‘Rita!’ Richie warns. ‘We’ve talked about keeping your opinions in check behind the bar. Sorry, Poppy,’ he apologises.
‘It’s fine,’ I say, surprised by Rita’s passion for the shop. ‘I like people who say what they think, and Rita is entitled to her opinion. Like I said before –’ it’s my turn to give Jake a meaningful look – ‘I haven’t decided what I’m doing with the shop yet. I’ll know in a few days, I guess.’
‘You have to try and persuade her otherwise,’ Rita says grabbing Jake’s hand. ‘Tell her how important that shop is to this town.’
Jake squeezes Rita’s hand then puts it gently down on the bar.
‘Poppy will make up her own mind, Rita,’ he says. ‘She’s a grown woman, with her own opinions.’
Rita huffs.
‘I won’t do anything rash, I promise,’ I say, trying to appease her.
Rita gives me a terse nod. ‘Good. Well, that’s something, I suppose.’
‘We’ll leave you with your drinks,’ Richie says. ‘Let us know if you’d like food. I’ve a cracker of a spag bol on the menu tonight, and –’ he looks around him at the near empty pub – ‘unless it picks up a bit later, me and Rita’ll be eating it for the rest of the week. No, the drinks are on us,’ he says when Jake holds out a note to pay for our beer. ‘In memory of Rose.’
Richie leads Rita away in search of thirsty customers.
I take a sip of my beer.
‘Is that why you brought me in here?’ I ask Jake. ‘Because you knew they’d react like that and try and persuade me not to sell.’
Jake shrugs. ‘Not at all. I brought you in here because it’s the only pub in St Felix and I wanted a beer.’
I eye him over my pint glass.
‘Honestly. It makes no difference to me whether you sell the shop or not.’
‘Yes it does,’ I say, following him as he gestures for us to sit at a table that’s become free by the window. ‘If I sell the shop to someone who doesn’t intend to run it as a flower shop, then you’ll be out of business.’
Jake laughs.
‘What? What’s so funny?’
‘As lovely as your grandmother was, her shop’s not my only source of income. I supply flowers to shops all over Cornwall.’
‘Oh, I didn’t know that.’
‘Do you know anything about flowers at all?’ Jake asks, putting his pint down on the table. ‘I thought it was the family business.’
‘No, not a lot,’ I admit. ‘I’ve always steered away from getting involved.’
‘Why?’
I shrug. ‘Dunno, flowers just aren’t my thing.’
‘What is your thing then?’
I think about this. ‘I don’t think I’ve found it yet, to be honest.’
Jake watches me as he drinks from his pint glass.
‘What?’ I demand. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘Nothing, guv, honest!’ he says holding up his free hand. ‘Tetchy, aren’t you?’
‘No, I’m not. Just because I haven’t gone into my family business, it doesn’t mean I have a problem!’
‘I never said you did.’ Jake shakes his head. ‘I think I’ll just sit here in silence and drink my pint. It’ll be easier.’
We both pick up our glasses and drink, looking anywhere apart from at each other. I watch Miley playing over the other side of the bar; Rita has given her some monkey nuts – appropriately. She’s carefully breaking open each nut one by one, then neatly brushing the shells under a beer towel before she greedily eats the inside.
‘Sorry,’ I say after a bit, looking back at Jake. ‘For snapping at you before. It’s a bad habit of mine.’
‘Not a problem,’ Jake says, shrugging amiably.
‘It’s only I’ve heard it all a hundred times before,’ I continue, wanting to explain. ‘How I should go into the family business with everyone else. How I’m odd because I can’t settle into anything in life.’
‘I never said you were odd,’ Jake says, looking at me differently. ‘Do you think you are then?’
‘Now you sound like one of my therapists,’ I reply, rolling my eyes. ‘Turning my words around on me like that.’
‘You’ve had counselling?’ Jake asks, sounding very interested. He sits forward in his chair.
‘Yeah, so what? Loads of people have.’
‘I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it. Gosh, you’re hard work.’
I look at Jake. I’ve been giving him a tough time and it isn’t fair, he’s only trying to be nice. ‘I know. I’ve heard that before too. Some people call it “high maintenance”.’
‘What do you call it?’ Jake asks, his dark eyes twinkling again in a very attractive manner.
‘I’m just an awkward bitch really,’ I reply, lifting my glass and taking a drink while I wait for his reaction.
To my delight, Jake laughs. We smile at each other across the table, and any previous tension between us melts away.
‘Shall we order some food?’ Jake asks, looking at his watch. ‘I know it’s only five o’clock, but I’m starving.’
‘Yeah,’ I reply keenly, never one to turn down food. ‘So am I.’
‘I’ll get us some menus,’ he says, standing up. ‘Then I have to make a quick phone call.’
‘Sure,’ I say, watching him as he wanders over to the bar. He collects Miley and couple of bar menus, walks back and hands me one. ‘I’ll just be a sec,’ he says, holding up his phone.
I pretend to take a look at the menu while Jake goes outside to make his call, but really my mind is racing. Is this wise, Poppy? I ask myself. You’ve only been here a couple of hours and you’re about to have dinner with a complete stranger – a fairly hot stranger, yes, but that shouldn’t make any difference.
Jake isn’t my usual type at all. He’s a bit more mature than the type of guy I’d usually go for – I’m guessing he might be in his late thirties to early forties. His broad shoulders and well-developed arms suggest he works out regularly too, but that could be because he does a lot of manual labour at his nursery. He seems like a nice guy, but I don’t want to get involved with anyone right now, especially anyone who lives here in St Felix, or I might never get away.
No, I need to remain calm and focused on what I came here to do, even if Jake does have one of the cutest smiles I’ve seen in a long time…
Jake returns, sitting down opposite me again with Miley on his shoulder, and I pretend I’ve been busy with my menu.
‘Sorry about that,’ he says, as I look over my menu at him. ‘Had to tell the family I’d be late getting home.’
‘No problem,’ I reply casually, as my mind races again.
Family?
I covertly glance at his left hand while pretending to examine my menu, and notice a gold wedding band for the first time.
Damn, I knew it was too good to be true. He’s married.
‘Is your wife OK about you having dinner out?’ I feel very uneasy about this. Having a meal with a man you’ve just met is one thing, but a married man…
‘It wasn’t my wife I was calling,’ he says. ‘It was my children.’
Oh God, he has children too! I begin to run through ideas for getting out of this pub as quickly as I can. This is why I try to steer clear of the male of the species. I’ve only been here five minutes and already I’ve been duped by a nice smile and a tight butt. ‘Ah, I see,’ I reply carefully, my menu swiftly becoming very interesting again.
‘They’re teenagers, so they’re quite capable of getting their own dinner,’ Jake continues, apparently unaware of my unease. ‘But I like to let them know where I am if I’m going to be late.’
‘Sure.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Jake asks, looking at me questioningly over the table. ‘You’ve gone all quiet on me. And you may be many things, Poppy, but you’re certainly not that.’
Never one to mince my words, I tell him straight: ‘I don’t see married men.’
Jake looks around him. ‘Where don’t you see them?’
‘No, I mean I don’t date married men. It’s one of my rules.’ I sit back smugly in my chair and fold my arms. Actually I’m lying, I don’t have rules for dating, but it makes me sound good.
Jake’s tanned forehead furrows at first, puzzled by what I’m saying, and then his expression changes to one of mirth. ‘You think this –’ he waves his finger backwards and forwards between us – ‘this is a date?’
Miley, sitting on his shoulder, mimics him by shrieking and holding her tummy as if she’s belly-laughing.
My cheeks annoyingly redden once more. ‘Well, what is it then? You ask me out for dinner, then you tell me you’re married. I’m sorry, but the two never mix in my world.’
Jake nods. ‘Ah, now I see.’
‘What? What do you see?’ I demand.
Jake takes a long drink, draining the last of his pint, then he places the glass firmly back down on the table.
‘Well, thanks for making me feel like the local letch – which I can assure you I’m not. I was merely being friendly, that’s all. Rose was a lovely lady and a good mate of mine, and I thought it would be the right thing to do to look after her granddaughter. Obviously I was wrong.’ He stands up. ‘Enjoy your evening, Poppy. Maybe I’ll see you around before you leave St Felix.’
Then to my horror, without a backward glance he turns and walks with Miley in his arms through the doors of the pub.
Sitting still in my seat, my cheeks flaming as hot as the plates of steaming fajitas Richie is serving to a couple at a nearby table, I lift my glass of beer and sip quickly, glancing around me to see if anyone else has witnessed what’s just happened. But the pub is fairly empty and the few people who are in here are too involved in their own business to be watching me. So I quietly stand up and slip out of the door unnoticed.
Which is exactly the way I like it.