ChapterOne
‘Dear friends and family, as we gather here today to remember and honour the beautiful journey of Ada Jones, we also come together to celebrate the legacy of love, kindness and joy that Ada has left behind in the village of Heartcross. Ada was a huge part of our community for over eighty years and the well-known face of The Vintage Flower Van, where she shared with us on a daily basis her joyous smile and beautiful blooms for over sixty years. We will begin today’s service with Ada’s favourite song, “All Things Bright and Beautiful”. The first verse will be sung by Ada’s great-niece, Florrie, along with Ada’s lifelong friend Dolores Henderson.’ With a nod, the vicar gestured for them to move to the front of the church and face the congregation.
With their arms linked, Florrie could feel herself lightly trembling. Aunt Dolores looked at her, her expression tender as she whispered, ‘I’ve got you.’
Florrie’s heart melted. Ninety-nine years old and Dolores was still looking out for her. Dolores wasn’t her real auntie, but a friend who’d earned the title of family through her friendship with Ada. Together, they stepped forward and stood in front of the casket before turning to face the mourners. Florrie was thankful to have Dolores by her side. She wasn’t used to being in the limelight, unlike Dolores, who was world famous – an international singing superstar whose career spanned too many decades to remember. Swallowing a lump in her throat, Florrie hoped her voice would hold out as the organist looked towards them and began to play.
From behind her sunglasses, Florrie’s watery eyes glanced out over the sea of faces. All of Aunt Ada’s friends and the community of Heartcross were standing in front of her, each of them remembering Ada and each of them wearing a flower, handpicked only this morning from Ada’s garden, pinned to their clothes in memory of her.
By the end of the second verse the whole church was in full song. It was one Aunt Ada would sing often throughout the different seasons whilst she worked away in the gardens of her home, Rose Cottage, which she loved with all her heart. Some of her prize roses were displayed in the floral arrangements around the church. Ada had been eighty-four years old when she passed away, and had been a florist for all of her life. Following in Ada’s footsteps, Florrie too had become a florist and now had her own shop, Buttercup Barn, situated just off Love Heart Lane, in the Heart of the Village shopping complex.
Ada’s whole life had been all about blooms and not a single corner of the courtyard and garden in the grounds of Rose Cottage was without a flowerbed. The cottage stood on the outskirts of Heartcross, in the Scottish Highlands, where the main village was lined with traditional whitewashed houses and the prettiest gardens, all set against the spectacular backdrop of Heartcross Mountain. Ada’s pastel pink vintage flower van with its duck-egg blue awning had been standing outside Rose Cottage for as long as anyone could remember. What Ada didn’t know about flowers wasn’t worth knowing and Florrie’s fondest memories were working alongside her during every school holiday. They were days full of wonderful colours and so much laughter. According to Aunt Ada, ‘Flowers are like friends, they bring colour to your world’, and she had even had that quote carved into a wooden plaque that hung above the door of The Vintage Flower Van, along with a photograph of Ada’s father (and Florrie’s great-grandfather), Willem Hughes. Aunt Ada had been Florrie’s favourite person in the whole wide world and such an inspiration in every part of her life.
As soon as the song came to an end, Martha, another of Ada’s closest friends, stepped forward and stood behind the microphone to share a couple of funny stories from the past, her voice faltering at times as emotion got the better of her. She told the story of Ada’s obsession with flowers, which had started when she was a teenager.
‘She’d been encouraged at school to seek a career in admin’ – Martha rolled her eyes and the congregation laughed – ‘because of her teacher’s perception that there was never any money in flowers. Of course, Ada didn’t listen. No, she was savvy right from the start and erected rows of glasshouses on the land of Rose Cottage so she could cultivate her own stock. By staggering their growth and providing them with warmth and artificial light throughout the seasons, Ada proved everyone wrong. Her business pulled in a good income right from the start, and there are not many professions that smell as nice as having your own flower van with only a short commute to work!’
Even though Florrie owned her own florist business, she’d made a promise to Aunt Ada that the iconic flower van would always remain in business. It was now her main priority; a means to keep Aunt Ada’s legacy alive.
As the service came to an end, Florrie blotted her tears with a tissue and put on a pair of sunglasses. She stood up, shook the hand of the vicar and thanked him for a beautiful service before she turned and headed slowly towards the doors at the back of the church. The close-knit community sharing her grief touched her arms as she walked past, offering their condolences. She was followed by her good friend Isla, who had been her rock ever since Ada’s passing. Florrie knew she couldn’t have gotten through the last couple of weeks without her.
‘So sorry for your loss,’ Rona said from where she and her daughter Felicity were standing at the end of a pew halfway down the aisle.
‘Thank you. It’s difficult for all of us.’ Her gaze spanned the pews, acknowledging those standing at the back of the church, and her eyes caught on a handsome man in the very back row. He wore an exquisitely cut suit with a black tie and as he held her gaze, the look of adoration on his suntanned face had Florrie’s heart beating fast and her stomach beginning to churn.
It couldn’t be him. Not on today of all days?
Surely not.
After lifting her sunglasses to take a better look she lowered them promptly.
It was him.
A face she hadn’t seen for over eight years and one she’d never expected to see again in this lifetime, if she was honest with herself. What the hell was Tom Houston doing at her great-aunt’s funeral? Why would he come here? And why now? Maybe to apologise? If so, it was eight years too late.
Mulling over her options in her mind, Florrie wondered if she should acknowledge him, but knowing everyone was watching her from the sidelines, she paused. She needed to stay dignified; she couldn’t go causing a scene at Aunt Ada’s funeral.
Isla touched her arm. ‘Are you okay? You’ve gone very pale.’
‘I just need some air,’ she replied.
‘That’s understandable,’ Isla said kindly.
Florrie looked over in Tom’s direction again. He’d disappeared. She quickly scanned the church, trying to catch sight of him, but he’d slipped away, as though he’d never been there at all.
ChapterTwo
Outside the church, Florrie led the mourners to the graveside. After the vicar said one last prayer Aunt Ada was lowered into the ground and laid to rest. Florrie was restless, her eyes constantly flitting between the various mourners, trying to spot whether Tom was part of the group, but she couldn’t see him. She began to question whether her mind was playing tricks on her. Had it actually been him? She hadn’t seen a recent photo of him – hadn’t seenanyphoto of him for a very long time, after distancing herself and blocking every channel of communication between them all those years ago, determined to never give him the chance to humiliate her a second time.
Suddenly, Florrie became aware she was surrounded by silence and all eyes were on her. The vicar’s gaze was also fixed in her direction. Immediately, she realised that the vicar had requested something from her, but she’d been too distracted looking for Tom to hear what it was. She glanced towards Isla, who thankfully rescued her by nodding towards the flowers that were in the buckets at the side of the grave. Quickly picking up a couple of stems and a small mound of soil, Florrie threw them on top of the coffin and the rest of the mourners followed suit.
After more condolences were offered the crowd began to disperse, heading for the wake at the Grouse and Haggis. Florrie stayed where she was, wanting to take a moment to say her last goodbye. Isla, Martha and Dolores stayed with her.
Removing her sunglasses, she wiped the tears away again with a tissue before putting them back on. ‘I’m glad I decided not to wear any mascara today,’ she said with a small chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. She pointed to the graves either side. To the right was Ada’s husband, Great-Uncle Ewart, and to the left were Ada’s parents and grandparents. ‘All back together,’ murmured Florrie. ‘I bet Aunt Ada insisted they were all waiting at the pearly gates with a glass of port to greet her.’
‘And I think that’s exactly what we’re going to do now, raise a glass of Ada’s favourite tipple at the wake.’ Dolores pointed her walking stick towards the wrought-iron gates of the cemetery.
Florrie nodded, swallowing another lump in her throat. Waves of emotion kept washing over her and she had to do her very best to keep her composure when all she wanted to do was crumple in a heap under her duvet and sob her heart out. At least the saddest part of the day was now over. This afternoon she was relying on Dolores and Martha to lift everyone’s spirits, which would include imbibing some of the alcoholic kind. They both loved an audience, and were both natural storytellers with perfect comedic timing when it came to a punchline. They would be in their element as the stars of the show, allowing Florrie to blend into the background as she processed her grief.
