Chapter 11
11
LONDON, PRESENT DAY
Katie had thoroughly enjoyed her first day being the sole employee at Vintage Rose. She had sold far more bunches of flowers than she’d imagined possible, and it looked as if Dora might not come home to a locked shop with a sign that read, ‘Out of Business’. She smiled as she sipped at the lukewarm mug of tea. Maybe this had been exactly what she’d needed, a complete break from the world of being a personal assistant. Something had sparked deep inside her when she’d made her first bouquet for a customer who wanted a gift for her wife; no wonder Dora loved being a florist so much and it smelled divine in here. Taking out her phone, she wondered if the plane had landed yet and whether she should let her friend know that today’s takings had been far more than she’d expected. Mid-text the small bell above the shop door jangled and Katie looked up to see the vision of male godliness called George standing there, smiling at her. She managed to slosh tea all down her front and was relieved she was wearing Dora’s black apron to hide the stain.
‘Hi.’
He nodded. ‘Hello again, how are you, Katie?’
‘I’m good, yourself?’
She thought to herself that now was the time he was going to say he was distraught over the death of his girlfriend. Especially because he had never once mentioned her when he took her to Marco’s on Sunday evening. He must have been in denial maybe.
‘Never better, thank you.’
She was wrong. What was the matter with him? Surely he should be in the throes of grief by now. She understood that everyone reacted differently to death, but to not acknowledge it was weird.
‘Have you come about the funeral flowers? I’m afraid Dora isn’t here to make them for you. I’m not able to help you either, sorry, I can barely tie a bouquet.’
‘I don’t need flowers.’
‘You don’t? Oh, that’s okay. Then what do you need?’
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply; Katie felt a chill run down her spine. He reminded her of someone, but she didn’t remember who. When he opened them, his gaze met hers and he stared deep into her eyes. Those brown eyes were much darker today, they were almost black.
‘Are you wearing lenses?’
‘Am I wearing what?’
‘Contact lenses. Or maybe you were wearing them the other day?’
‘Why do you ask that?’
‘Your eyes aren’t as brown; they look totally different.’
He smiled at her and moved a few steps closer to her.
‘No contact lenses. My eyes are changeable depending upon my mood. Now where is your friend Dora, I’m disappointed she’s not here. I keep visiting and she rebuffs my offer of friendship at every opportunity.’
The air in the shop had become chilly and Katie wrapped her arms around her midriff trying to warm herself up. She had a bad feeling about George, she didn’t know what it was because yesterday he had been so charming and gentleman-like. Today he was completely different, and she decided that maybe he had one of those split personalities. Whoever he was today she didn’t like him one bit. He made her skin crawl and gave her the urge to run out of the door and not look back at him.
They stood there in silence. He smiled at her as he took another step forwards and she realised he’d blocked her in. She couldn’t escape if she wanted to. Not unless she vaulted over the shop counter and made a run for it – which she would if she had to. Dora had told her he was weird and Katie had laughed at her. Who was laughing now? Not bloody her. She watched as he picked up the pair of secateurs she’d used to trim the stems of the roses down with.
‘Where is the elusive Dora?’
Katie eyed the shop phone; it was a wall-mounted vintage eighties phone in bubble gum pink. If she couldn’t reach her phone, which she’d left on the counter when he’d walked through the door, she could dial 999 on that.
‘She went on holiday.’
Confusion filled his eyes. Katie watched, sure they’d turned even darker at the news she’d just given him, but how was that even possible?
‘Where to?’
‘I don’t know, she never said. It was a last-minute thing. You know, one of those getaways that the travel agents stick on a piece of card in the shop window.’
‘Hmm, that is very interesting and quick thinking by yourself but I’m not entirely sure that I believe that.’
‘It’s true, it was so last minute she had to ask me to step in and run the shop. I know nothing about running a flower shop.’ She laughed, but it sounded so wrong – high-pitched and on the verge of hysterical.
‘And who did she go on this last-minute holiday with?’
She shook her head. ‘No one, she went on her own.’
He breathed out a long sigh that seemed to fill the air and last forever. When he put the secateurs back down Katie let out the breath she’d been holding in herself.
‘I guess I’ll have to wait until she comes back. When will that be?’
‘I don’t know, she didn’t say.’
‘For her best friend, I get the impression that you don’t know an awful lot about her, Katie. Now, you are either a complete airhead who hasn’t got a clue or you are lying to me to protect your friend, which I must say is very, very honourable of you. Far more honourable than I would have given you credit for, but I can’t always be right.’
He smiled at her. ‘Now which is it, are you stupid or lying?’
She glanced at her phone. She could grab it and run for the toilet. It had an old-fashioned hardwood door that was always getting jammed. If she locked herself in, she could phone the police and get the arsehole standing in front of her arrested or at least escorted out of here. Katie lunged for her phone, startling George who jumped a little and stepped back, giving her a precious few seconds to run to the toilet. She turned and pumped her legs hard, she had to get away from him because she had this awful feeling that if she told him where Dora had gone that he might actually try to follow her. She made it to the toilet, running into the small space she slammed the door shut, catching her own finger in it and screaming, then yanking it out and pushing her shoulder against the wood, drawing the small brass lock across. It wouldn’t hold him if he started to kick it down, but it might give her a few minutes. She dialled 999 and shouted, ‘The police are on their way, you arsehole, get the fuck out of here.’
Katie looked down at her phone and the back of her throat filled with hot vomit as she realised there was no signal in the tiny room. She slid down the back of the door, her knees drawn up to her chest as she pushed against it with every ounce of strength she had.
‘Katie, what’s the matter with you? Why are you acting like this? I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to talk.’
She realised that the end of her finger was bleeding, and felt a hot pain inside it so intense it made her eyes water. She loaded Messenger to try and get hold of someone to ring the police for her, anyone would do. The door moved slightly as he shoved against it and she pushed harder against the wood.
‘Get out of here now.’ She tried to scream the words at him but all that came out was a weak, pathetic whisper.
‘Well, I have nowhere to go, so I’ll sit out here and wait for the police to come. Then I can explain to them that this is all some misunderstanding. And when you’ve had enough of sitting on that cold, damp floor maybe you could open the door and I’ll take you to Marco’s for a bottle of wine where we can laugh about this little episode and eat creamy pasta smothered in mozzarella and garlic.’
Katie’s stomach let out a loud groan at the thought of a penne al forno from Marco’s. She’d been so busy today she had forgotten to buy lunch. As her finger throbbed, she wondered if she had lost the plot. Had she acted irrationally because Dora had warned her he was strange?
‘What do you want, George? Why are you so obsessed with Dora?’
There was a slight pause. ‘I’m not, I just have this feeling that I knew her once what feels like a lifetime ago and I’ve been really stupid by not telling her this. Do you believe in déjà vu, Katie?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I do too. I also believe that sometimes we are born to find each other and become soul mates. That our destiny is written in the stars long before we even know about it and sometimes you can’t fight it, you have to follow it.’
Katie stood up. He sounded sad, and she felt stupid. Maybe he wasn’t a psychopath, maybe he was a sensitive soul who believed in past lives and true love, which was kind of corny, but sexy as hell.
‘Are you going to hurt me if I open the door?’
‘Why on earth would I want to hurt you? I have no desire to do that to you.’
She wiped her eyes, which had tears rolling from them, and tore a strip of toilet paper off the roll to blow her snotty nose. As she ran her finger underneath the cold tap, she never heard him whisper:
‘I won’t hurt you; I’m going to kill you, but only after you’ve told me what I need to know.’
Katie turned off the tap, dried her hands on the soft pink towel and ran her fingers through her hair, then she slid the lock across and opened the door.