‘That’s enough now,’ his mum snapped. She turned to me. ‘I’ll have all your things sent to the farm. And don’t even think about paying us back for the wedding, for any of it. It’s our fault we spent what we did.’ She turned back to her son and husband before they could speak. ‘That is my final say on that.’
Henry scraped his chair back and jumped up. ‘Don’t come crawling back to me when he breaks your heart. Because he will. He’s head over heels for Sarah. He told her so.’
I tried not to let his words affect me. ‘This isn’t about them; it’s about us.’
‘Whatever, Daisy. You can call him to come and get you; I’m not driving you back there. I’m going to the bar.’ At that, he stormed off without a second glance.
‘I’m so disappointed in you,’ his father said then, his voice stone cold.
‘Daisy…’ his mum began but I gave her a smile.
‘It’s okay. Thank you for everything.’
It was weird. I’d wanted to keep them all happy for so long that now I’d finally told them how I felt, I was relieved. They had never wanted me to be myself. They didn’t really love me, or even know me. And they didn’t want to either. I walked off the opposite way to Henry, knowing that would be the last time I saw them. It was sad to close the chapter on the last five years of my life. But I knew in my heart, it had been the right thing to do.
I looked down at my finger, no diamond ring on it any more.
My fear finally faded away. I was free.
I pulled my phone out of my bag and called Willow. ‘Willow, can you please come and pick me up?’
26
‘How do you feel?’ Willow asked me when we passed the Birchbrook sign. The drive so far had been quiet, Willow letting me think over the end of the chapter I’d spent with Henry and his family, the uneasiness about what was ahead but mostly, the certainty that whatever was ahead would be better than what I’d left behind. Then I finally opened up and told her everything that had happened over lunch.
‘Relieved. Better. Free. Like I need to take this chance now to find what I want. So I can be happy,’ I said as the scorching afternoon sunshine poured through the car window, heating up my bare arm.
‘I’m proud of you,’ she said simply.
‘That means a lot,’ I replied, giving her a grateful smile. ‘You know what I think I’ll do?’ I said. ‘Could you drop me off to at the florist’s? We need more flowers for the watering cans I bought. I can walk back afterwards; it’ll do me good.’
‘Okay, good idea. I need to carry on with my pumpkin planting. You’ll have dinner with us though, yeah?’
‘Definitely.’
Willow dropped me off in the High Street. The flowers in the hanging baskets were vibrant and the bunting swayed in the gentle breeze. Kids passed me eating ice creams on the way home from school. The café door was wide open and there was a queue inside, people buying iced coffees and milkshakes and picking up sweet treats for the evening. Female Pat waved from behind the counter when I glanced inside. A couple of people I passed by said, ‘Good afternoon.’ It was all unusual after spending so long in the city. I found myself walking with a spring in my step as I headed for the flower shop.
Mary was outside, refreshing the flowers in the pink bike – adding in pink peonies that were in full, beautiful bloom. She turned when I approached, her face breaking into a smile. ‘Hello, Daisy. You know, before I got married, my husband hated pink but then when we bought our first home together, every week, he would buy me a bunch of pink flowers. When peonies were in season, they were my favourite. Even when I opened this shop and was surrounded by flowers, he carried on the tradition. I still miss him after ten years but these help.’
‘I never buy flowers,’ I admitted as I touched one of the petals, so delicate in my hand, the scent of the shop washing all over me like the best perfume. ‘I should, though. Maybe I’ll get myself some peonies for my room at the farm. And we need some more faux flowers, please, for some watering cans I bought.’
It was silly to think of flowers as something negative just because of what happened to my parents. My mum adored them. They brought her joy. And she named me after one. I shouldn’t turn away from things that could make me happy. I thought about Bronte’s garden and how she was surprised I didn’t have one of my own. Suddenly, it became a dream to have one.
‘Come on in.’ Mary jolted me out of my thoughts.
I followed her into the shop.
While I was picking out flowers to buy for the farm, three sets of customers came in: a family and then a man looking for an anniversary bunch and a woman wanting birthday flowers for her mum. Mary looked harassed at the influx of customers so I went over to the man who seemed lost.
‘Can I help?’ I asked him.
‘I have no idea what my girlfriend will like. We’ve been together a year,’ he said, his eyes wide.
‘Has she ever mentioned a flower she likes or liked a bunch you’ve bought before?’
He shook his head.
‘How about her favourite colour?’
