‘Deal,’ replied Jaydon. ‘Here’s my card.’ He looked at his phone. ‘There’s three weeks until the eviction, so make sure you’re maximising publicity while you still have access to The Vintage Flower Van and the grounds of the cottage.’
Florrie nodded. ‘I understand and I’m on it. Thanks, to both of you.’
After walking back through the foyer, Florrie headed out towards the car park and immediately noticed Tom’s car wasn’t there. As soon as she got home, she knew she needed to notify her car insurance provider and book Rose into the garage to get her bumper fixed. As she got behind the wheel, something caught her eye. She narrowed her eyes at the folded piece of paper flapping under the windscreen wiper. Knowing that Starcross Manor was not the type of establishment to bombard you with marketing leaflets, she climbed from her seat and grabbed the piece of paper, curious about what it might be. She was surprised to see her name neatly written on the front.
Unfolding the paper, she read:
Just for the record, my favourite song on the playlist was track 4.
She instantly knew the note was from Tom, and her heart gave a tiny leap. Track four was her favourite, too. It had been playing the first night they’d spent together. It might have been the oysters they’d shared, or the champagne, or the intoxicating warmth of the sea air, but whatever it was, that night, no matter how hard she tried, would be etched on her mind for ever. It had been truly beautiful and for a moment she was lost in the romance of it all, but as she looked back towards Starcross Manor she remembered the reason she was here. Tom Houston was the owner of the company that was demolishing everything Aunt Ada had worked for. But why would he want her to know his favourite track? Perhaps to make her remember what they had had together for those two weeks? Or did he know what was happening at Rose Cottage and was this a feeble attempt to distract her and make her fall under his spell again whilst he surged ahead with his plan to make as much money as he could?
‘You don’t know me at all,’ Florrie said angrily, screwing up the note into a ball and tossing it into a nearby bin on the edge of the car park. She wasn’t going to let herself fall for his charms again. Her head was well and truly in the game of fighting for what was right.
Driving back to Buttercup Barn, Florrie was thankful it was half-day closing, her mind busy with everything that had gone on that morning. After parking the van outside the shop, she waved at Isla, who was serving inside the farm shop. As soon as there was a lull in customers, Isla walked towards her.
‘How did the meeting go?’
‘Jaydon is going to draft a letter regarding The Vintage Flower Van and it’s on my list to arrange a day and time for the community meeting. I’m thankful its half-day closing today. What are you doing this afternoon?’
‘Just general chores that I need saving from. What are you thinking?’
‘I’m thinking of setting up social media for the flower van and posting its first reel. I may need a cameraperson.’
‘I’m in! I’ll see you up at Rose Cottage just after two p.m.’
For the next couple of hours Florrie was run off her feet and by midday there were only a few bunches of flowers left to sell. It was her first breather of the day and as she stood in the doorway of the shop, hugging a mug of tea, she heard the computer ping.
Checking her inbox she saw that there were two new emails.
The first, as promised, was from Jaydon. Reading through the letter he’d prepared, Florrie was impressed. He’d laid out a concrete moral case for The Vintage Flower Van staying in the family and as a gesture of goodwill being handed over to Florrie. He’d included dates of trading up until Ada had passed away and links to articles The Vintage Flower Van had been featured in. Florrie felt hopeful. Surely anyone receiving this email wouldn’t hesitate to give her the van. She quickly typed a reply, agreeing that Jaydon should send it. Her fingers were crossed that the email would make a difference.
The second email was from Flynn, listing the ten charities being celebrated at his event, in alphabetical order. He had included their logos and links to their websites. She quickly glanced down the list and stopped on the eighth entry.
The William Houston Foundation.
Florrie couldn’t quite believe it. The Houstons were turning up everywhere! She clicked on the link, which took her through to the charity homepage. There was a photograph of William Houston. Florrie did a double take. There was no mistaking Tom was from the same family! He had the same rugged good looks and charismatic smile as his grandfather. The homepage described when and why the charity was set up; it seemed William had suffered a heart attack and he wanted to give something back to the people who had cared for him during his recovery. That’s when he’d set up the William Houston Foundation, with every penny raised going to NHS charities.
According to the website, the charity was now run by Edward Houston, but Tom Houston was in the midst of taking over the reins … which would explain why Tom was in Heartcross. Maybe he was networking in the area before the charity event to help create more awareness for his grandfather’s charity?
Curious to know more about William Houston, Florrie Googled him. There were numerous articles about him online, with one national paper suggesting that he should receive an OBE for services to the property and development industry. Florrie put her hand on her heart when she read how William had housed a number of factory workers when their houses near a local mine had been destroyed by a natural disaster. Out of the goodness of his heart he’d constructed new houses, keeping families together and charging low rent. He was well respected, a pillar of society, genuine, and his extensive charity work was admirable. He was a man who just kept giving. Clicking on the next article, Florrie read the bold headline.
Respected Property Millionaire William Houston Dies After Health Complications.
The article outlined how he’d battled with a number of health conditions following his heart attack and yet had never given up campaigning for his charity. His funeral was packed, mourners spilling out into the road as there wasn’t enough space in the church – a church she recognised from the photo. William Houston’s funeral had been held here in Heartcross, just like Ada’s.
She carried on reading. Tributes had poured in, the most notable from Dolores Henderson.‘My good friend, William Houston, taken too soon. I will miss you dearly.’The article went on to state that in memory of William, Dolores had donated all of the profits of her next concert to the William Houston Foundation. This came as a complete surprise to Florrie. She hadn’t realised there was a friendship between Dolores and William, but why would she? They were a couple of generations apart and Dolores had had no reason to mention a friend who’d passed away such a long time ago.
But what Florrie couldn’t figure out was why a company that was founded on good principles and strived to help others would want to destroy one of the most established gardens in the oldest cottage standing in Heartcross, and bring to an end a business that had been in operation for over sixty years.
Florrie flicked between photos of William and Tom and even though there were similarities in their facial features, it was obvious to Florrie that Tom wasn’t William. Tom wasn’t a decent, genuine bloke who would go out on a limb for workers who had lost their houses. No, the business was now about destroying beauty that had taken years to cultivate, in favour of making money.
‘I might be a one-woman florist,’ said Florrie, staring at Tom’s photograph, ‘but I’m going to become a constant irritant to you, Tom Houston.’ And she was in no doubt that the whole of Heartcross would be behind her.
ChapterEight
‘You look like a proper florist,’ exclaimed Isla, wandering into the courtyard at the back of Rose Cottage.
‘That’s because I am a proper florist! But I’m curious, how does a proper florist look?’ Florrie asked, amused.
