Chapter 7
Back in the shop, Becky had everything under control.
All the empty buckets had been scrubbed and she had made up some posies in dusty pinks and burnt orange which she had displayed in vintage jugs.
She was looking flushed from her efforts and blushed even more rosily when Lara told her how much she liked them.
Lara then sent Becky out to get herself some lunch and when Becky asked if she wanted anything from the deli, Lara glanced imperceptibly in Abby’s direction and asked her to get some Florentines to go with their coffee – her treat.
Abby returned to her perch on the stool at the back of the shop and sat there admiring the toes of her boots as she digested all she had learnt from Lara during the morning.
Her ruminations were cut short by the stream of customers who came and went, and instead of dwelling on Lady Porter she moved forward to watch Lara as she dealt with their numerous and varied requests.
It had never occurred to Abby until that point how many things people say with flowers, and she was fascinated to see how Lara guided them in making their choices.
She wanted to ask Lara more about this, but just then Becky reappeared and she tactfully withdrew to the back of the shop.
As Becky took off her black bag, black jacket and black scarf she placed two coffees down on the counter.
‘My treat,’ she whispered. ‘Sarah at the deli is just finishing off a batch of Florentines and is going to bring them down in a bit.’ Lara smiled but there was no time for more, as a bride-to-be and her formidable mother bustled into the shop and the conversation turned to corsages, buttonholes, and pew-ends.
Later on when Abby looked back on her first day in the flower shop, two people in particular stood out in her mind.
The first was Sarah from the deli, who appeared in the shop in the afternoon bearing freshly-baked Florentines as promised.
Abby was struck by how Lara’s manner changed.
It was as if she had taken a step backwards and even though she was polite, it seemed that she had pulled down a blind between herself and Sarah.
Abby decided she rather liked the look of Sarah.
She was in her early thirties and had a shock of curly, strawberry blond hair, which she wore tied back from her face with what appeared to be a red and white tea towel knotted above one ear.
Abby felt she was well aware of Lara’s reserve but she appeared to take no notice of it, carrying on regardless – as if trying to reach out across the frosty divide.
An intelligent young woman, Abby decided, and a person of considerable warmth.
The second customer who stood out to Abby was a florid young man who burst into the shop towards the end of the day.
He made a beeline for Lara, completely ignoring Becky who had stepped forward to serve him.
As Abby was growing increasingly fond of Lara’s young assistant this was an inauspicious start.
The young man then dug himself deeper into her disfavour by haggling with Lara long and hard over the price of the flowers he wanted to buy.
He masked this with jokes, pressing home that as old friends she ought to do him a favour.
What fascinated Abby was Lara’s response.
She greeted this ‘Sebastian’ with a strange mix of embarrassment and half-hearted joviality.
Before he had been in the shop for less than a minute she was as red as he was.
During the exchange Lara took a series of sideways looks at Abby as if begging her not to say anything.
Abby prided herself on being a perceptive ghost so contented herself with standing next to Becky and looked with obvious admiration at the table arrangement that she was making.
It amused her that Becky discreetly threw her eyes up to heaven when Sebastian air-kissed Lara goodbye.
Eventually Lara sent Sebastian on his way with a discounted plant for his office.
As he also needed something to put on the supper table just for one evening, Lara wrapped up a dozen stems of flowers that were from last week’s order, telling him that he might have them for free as they would only last a day or so.
Before the door closed behind him Lara heard Abby’s by now familiar voice ringing out clearly, ‘I can see that he is the type of man who pinches housemaids and tries to kiss them under the stairs.’
The working day drew to a close and as Lara started to slow down and think about packing up she realised just how tired she was.
More than anything she wanted five minutes to sit down and collect her thoughts.
Lara decided she did not even have the energy to start bringing in all the flowers from the street.
So without attempting to move them, she put the closed sign on the door, sent Becky home and sat down on the stool next to Abby.
Abby seemed to sense her need for quiet, so for once she did not say anything.
Lara nibbled absent-mindedly on the last remaining Florentine and then put her head on the workbench and stayed there half slumped, her head in a pile of leaves and cut stems.
From under the foliage Abby heard her say, ‘How do you know he would pinch housemaids?’
‘Years of experience,’ Abby replied, trying not to laugh. ‘Are you going to tell me who he is?’ she asked.
‘Sebastian is one of Julian’s oldest friends.
When I see him I think he must know exactly how I feel…
felt about Julian. I know I shouldn’t talk about Julian, but all I want to do is ask him if he’s seen him and if he knows what’s going on.
And the urge to say this is almost unbearable,’ Lara said, still lying in the greenery.
‘But you did not say these things, Lara,’ Abby replied. ‘And as for appreciating your thoughts, I would not rate his intelligence above average… if that,’ she mused.
‘Then why do I feel so exposed when I see Julian’s friends? It’s like one of those dreams where you find yourself naked in the freezer section of Tesco.’ Lara sat up and ran a hand through her fast disintegrating plait.
‘I used to dream I was walking down St James’s Street wearing only a bonnet,’ Abby said sympathetically. ‘Although I have to say I used to rather enjoy that dream.’
‘Oh, Abby,’ said Lara laughing, ‘what am I going to do?’
‘You are going to tidy up here and then you are going to go and have a nice hot bath,’ said Abby with the air of one who has known her fair share of nannies and nursemaids.
Lara stretched, climbed down from her seat and headed out to bring in the flowers.
Most of the foliage from the bench seemed to have adhered itself to her clothes and any spare stems that had not snagged themselves in her jumper were caught in her hair.
Abby watched from the open door of the shop, shaking her head.
It was then she heard a friendly voice, ‘Hi, do you need a hand with those?’
Abby leant out of the doorway and looked into the square to see a young man in jeans, boots and a thick grey jumper getting out of a battered Land Rover.
He was of medium height but even in the darkening light she could tell that this young man would look more than passable in a pair of skin-tight pantaloons and gleaming hessian boots.
Lara looked up and hesitated.
‘Just say “Yes”,’ Abby quickly instructed her, guessing correctly that Lara was about to tell him, ‘not to bother’.
‘Thanks, Joe,’ Lara said instead.
Now why, wondered Abby, have we been talking about the Julians of the world when there are the Joes of the world in this town?
Abby stepped aside to get a better view of Joe as he carried a wooden crate of plants into the shop.
She decided that he did not have a handsome face, but that there was something very attractive about him all the same.
When Joe turned around and smiled at Lara the feeling grew and Abby felt very encouraged.
She had been wondering what to do about Lara and the disreputable Julian.
Maybe the answer was standing in front of her.
However, Abby was not one to rush her fences – something her father had taught her on her first day’s hunting – and so she settled down to watch him further.
‘Have you had a good day?’ Lara asked him, as he grabbed a large bucket of snowberries from the pavement.
‘Not bad, I’ve been down at Quinton Spinney clearing some of the beeches there. It’s a shame but some of them have suffered a lot of storm damage. We got on pretty well,’ he said, passing her the bucket. ‘Although right now all I can think about is having a pint. Do you fancy joining me for one?’
Lara hesitated for a moment. Abby looked at her expectantly, nodding encouragingly.
‘Er, no thanks, Joe, I’m too tired. I’m just going to go home and have a bath.’
Abby, like Becky, raised her eyes to heaven.
‘Oh, okay. Another time maybe,’ Joe said vaguely.
Abby could contain herself no longer. She waited until Lara was carrying a bucket of dahlias into the shop and Joe was near at hand.
With surprising speed for one wearing a slim fitting dress that encased her from high waist to neat ankle, she flew at Lara passing deftly through her and landing gracefully between a basket of cyclamens and a large azalea.
Lara was taken completely by surprise, she instantly recoiled, missed her footing, and fell headlong over a bucket of viburnum.
‘What the hell…?!’ she cried, as she crashed to the ground showering her surroundings with water and dahlias.
Joe, also taken completely unawares, had made a lunge at Lara in an attempt to catch her, but was too slow.
The wool of her jumper slipped through his left hand.
All he could do was stand empty handed looking down at Lara in a heap at his feet.
‘Are you all right? What happened? Did you trip?’ He moved towards her, trying to help her get to her feet.
‘What the hell?!’ Lara repeated, glaring at Abby.
Abby stood demurely by, the picture of innocence and looked with considerable meaning at Joe. ‘I think this young man would like to help you up,’ Abby said encouragingly.
‘What?! Oh yes!’ Lara said, looking at Joe, then back at Abby and then back at Joe. She managed to pull herself together and took his proffered hand. ‘Ouch!’ she winced, as she tried to put her weight on her left foot.
Joe put an arm under hers and helped her to hop to a stool. ‘Let’s have a look,’ he said, sinking to his knees in front of her. ‘Can you move it?’ he asked, gently rotating her ankle. Lara swore.
Joe looked up from where he was kneeling, ‘That bad?’ he enquired.
‘Actually, it’s not too bad,’ Lara conceded. ‘It hurts but I think I’ve just twisted it. I’m really sorry about that, I wasn’t swearing at you.’
‘Well, I hope not,’ Joe laughed. ‘Look, stay there and rest it and I’ll just clear this lot up.’ Joe bent down to gather up the sodden flowers and plants.
Lara sat back and mouthed silently at Abby above Joe’s head, ‘Why?!’
Abby walked a little closer so Lara could see her clearly, ‘I once heard the expression, “You can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs,” and that is the thought that popped into my mind when you declined Joe’s kind invitation.
I felt if you tripped it was to be hoped that he would catch you.
’ Abby became preoccupied. ‘I do wonder if I miscalculated that part. In my day young men were much more likely to catch a young lady if she fainted. I think that was partly to do with the corsets that made fainting a not infrequent occurrence. That and the suspicion I have that swooning became a popular pastime as it enabled young people to touch one another. Even the strictest of chaperones could not object to a gentleman helping a lady in distress.’ Abby finally got back to the point in hand.
‘I felt that if a slight accident should befall you, we might be faced with two desirable outcomes. Firstly, you would have the opportunity to get to know this young man better,’ here she gestured to the unsuspecting Joe.
‘And secondly,’ she continued with considerable satisfaction, ‘you would have a very good excuse to visit Dr Patil.’
Five minutes later Lara was limping down the garden path towards her cottage, Abby by her side. Joe had been thanked and dispatched to the Wentworth Arms. Lara had ignored all of Abby’s not-so-subtle hints that she might join him there, and of the restorative properties of brandy.
‘How did you know,’ Lara finally exclaimed, ‘that I wasn’t going to break my leg? Then I’d have been completely stuffed…’
‘It’s a knack,’ Abby said, with maddening complacency.
Lara stopped and turned towards her companion and would not say any more until Abby had finished practising a side-stepping curtsey which seemed to be her latest method of travelling across the garden.
‘I suppose,’ she continued gruffly, ‘I could go online and see if Dr Patil has any appointments for tomorrow – he tends to keep a couple free.’
‘I do like a quick and practical approach,’ Abby commented thoughtfully. ‘It saves one from sending out the footman to procure the services of a physician.’ With this she smiled, and dropping into a deep curtsey, disappeared into nothingness in the cold evening air.
All that was left was the faint scent of gardenia.