Chapter 19 #3
Florrie watched the scene play out, pressing her hands to her chest, a gasp escaping her mouth.
‘Oh wow!’ She laughed, delighted to see herself and Ed in scaled-down form.
‘It’s fantastic!’ After the festive displays he’d created last Christmas, with everyone saying they were his best yet, she couldn’t imagine how Ed was ever going to top them, but this, with its personal message, had done just that.
‘Oh, look, Gerty’s there, too.’ Her eyes dancing with happiness, Florrie took in the detail of the mini Labrador’s gold braided collar made from the same trim that featured on mini Florrie’s dress, the colourful spring blooms in the basket Gerty was holding, not to mention the dog’s shining amber eyes, so like the real thing.
‘Pretty amazing, isn’t it?’ said Jack beside her. ‘He’s a talented lad.’
‘It is amazing, and he is.’ In that moment she found herself wishing Mr and Mrs H were here to see it; she knew they’d be in raptures over their grandson’s artistic flair and imaginative creations.
They’d have lavished praise on him, their faces glowing with pride.
They were the polar opposite of his parents who, Ed had told her, used to refer to him as useless and disappointing.
The scars of those words were still visible today, though it gladdened Florrie’s heart to know that they were gradually fading.
A frown fleetingly troubled her brow as it crossed her mind that it was a shame his mum and dad didn’t feel able to visit the town without an agenda, that they let their bitterness cloud their view such that it stopped them from seeing their son’s talent, and taking pride in him and the praise his work received.
Surely they would get enormous pleasure from that?
But now, she told herself, wasn’t the time to dwell on Peter and Dawn Harte.
There was another window to be revealed and an author reading to enjoy.
Florrie slipped back inside the bookshop, rushing over to give Ed a hug. ‘It’s gorgeous! I love it!’ She kissed him hard on the mouth, making him laugh.
‘Glad you approve.’ His smile and the sparkle in his eyes told her he was thrilled. ‘I think you’ll like the second window, too.’
‘Can’t wait to see it,’ she said, happiness racing through her.
‘Are you all ready to see what’s behind the curtain of the next window?’ Jack’s voice rang out into the square and was quickly followed by a resounding yes, the enthusiasm making him laugh. ‘Okay then, let’s count down same as last time, folks. Five! Four! Three…’
The curtain swept back and another gasp ran around the gathering as everyone took a moment to absorb the rustic scene before them with hints of time gone by.
This one was of rugged moorland, complete with swathes of rich purple heather in full bloom.
It included a weathered moorland cross, the words carved into it being swallowed up by lichen.
The backdrop created a scene that led the eye to believe they were at a point high up on the moors, with unspoilt views all around, a clear blue sky above.
A young woman in a long Georgian style dress of floral cotton was standing upon a mossy sandstone crag, her hair loose around her shoulders, wispy curls framing her face.
She held a small piece of paper in one hand and what appeared to be a quill in the other, while a leather-bound novel bearing a well-known title was set on the ground beside her.
A worn signpost was pointing towards an austere looking house of grey sandstone behind her.
It bore the words ‘Top Withens’, painted in a cursive hand.
The group watched as the scene came to life and a faux pheasant glided behind the girl, its cackling cry spilling out into the square, while flimsy wisps of cloud floated by in the background.
In the next moment, the girl lowered her head as her hands slowly began to move together until the quill was resting on the paper.
As she was moving, a breeze appeared, gently blowing her dress and the tendrils of her hair.
Despite its undeniable air of melancholy, the scene was utterly mesmerising.
‘Oh wow! What a showstopper that is!’ declared Jack. ‘There’s no mistaking what this scene’s all about. Florrie, I think you need to get yourself out here again, flower. This is right up your street.’
‘I’ll set it to start from scratch like the other,’ said Ed.
Florrie didn’t need telling twice. She hurried out onto the pavement, her heart leaping as her gaze roved excitedly over the scene.
‘“Top Withens”,’ she read aloud, her gaze sliding to the girl, then the copy of Wuthering Heights resting amongst the bracken as realisation dawned.
‘Oh my days, Jack! It’s Emily Bronte! And Top Withens was reputedly the inspiration for Wuthering Heights! ’
‘Aye, you’re right,’ said Jack, taking a closer look at the scene.
Tears started spilling from Florrie’s eyes.
Ed had created this just for her; she must’ve mentioned to him hundreds of times that Emily Bronte’s novel was her favourite book of all time.
What had she done to deserve such a wonderfully thoughtful man?
She could look at this beautiful recreation of the moors around Top Withens forever!
She rushed back inside, throwing her arms around Ed. ‘Thank you, Ed! Thank you! It’s absolutely wonderful!’
‘Thought you’d appreciate the nod to Wuthering Heights.’
‘I do, I’m over the moon. Oh, Mum, you should go and take a look, it’s amazing! Both windows are.’ Florrie had inherited her love of books from her mum who’d been bringing her to the bookshop from being a tiny babe in arms, and when it was simply known as Harte’s Bookshop.
‘After seeing how excited you are, I don’t think I’ll be able to resist, lovey.’ Paula chuckled as she sneaked out of the bookshop to take a look. From her reaction when she returned, Paula was as delighted by Ed’s handiwork as her daughter.
The window reveal over and done with, Jack and Paula returned inside the bookshop, closing the door and sliding the bolt across.
It was decided that the rest of the team would take a look after the reading and when the crowd had thinned – which they all agreed was the biggest one they’d drawn so far.
‘It’s just gone twenty past six, so I reckon we’ve got time to catch our breath and grab a quick cuppa before we open the door and start letting folk in for the reading,’ said Jack. ‘I could do with wetting my whistle after all that yelling trying to get folk to quieten down.’
‘Sounds like a good plan to me, son. I’ll go and put the kettle on.’ Jean patted his arm and gave him a smile as she passed en route to the kitchen. ‘We’ll have to be quick, mind.’
‘Wait up, Jean pet, I’ll give you a hand,’ said Jenna, trotting after her.
‘By ’eck, they’re a right lively bunch out there, Jack. There’s no wonder you had to shout to be heard,’ said Charlie. ‘You could do with one of them megaphone things.’ Both men chuckled at that.
‘Aye, I might look into getting one for next time, save the old vocal cords.’
Florrie was pleased to see her dad still seemed to be doing okay and suffering no ill effects from being up and about this evening after spending so many days on the sofa at home.
She’d spotted her mum keeping a close eye on him, which was reassuring, especially since she’d mentioned to Florrie he was still experiencing some dizziness caused by the labyrinthitis, although Paula had stressed that the spells weren’t as severe or as frequent.
Florrie had been relieved to hear that, especially since she knew his worries about not being able to walk her down the aisle were still preying heavily on his mind.
She hoped this evening would go some way to assuaging his concerns.