‘Look, here it is on the TV.’
Florrie pulled out the kitchen chair and sat at the table, her eyes fixed on Isla’s phone. ‘Oh my…’
As the clip started to play the newsreader was sitting at her desk with a photo of The Vintage Flower Van showing behind her.
‘How did they get that photo?’ Florrie asked.
‘No idea, but it’s a good one.’
The newsreader began to speak. ‘It’s the story capturing the heart of the nation and potentially the most romantic story ever to be told. When Willem Hughes went off to war in 1914 he made sure that his wife would continue to receive flowers every Friday whilst he was away. Now, decades later, his great-granddaughter, Florrie Appleton, keeps the tradition alive, supplying weekly bouquets from The Vintage Flower Van, which has been in her family and in business for more than sixty years. Florrie Appleton’s TikToks about The Vintage Flower Van have become an overnight sensation with record numbers of views…’
Florrie didn’t hear anymore. She frantically swiped her phone open and checked her social channels. ‘No way!’
‘Yes way!’ confirmed Isla.
‘This is madness, complete madness!’ She checked through all her apps, then the local and national news sites. ‘It’s being reported everywhere.’
‘I know, it’s marvellous, isn’t it? You wanted to create publicity and you’ve done it! Sharing your great-grandfather’s story was a genius stroke.’
‘I need a coffee, something to calm my nerves.’ She held out her hand. ‘Look. I’m shaking … though I’m not sure if it’s shock or excitement.’
Isla made the coffee and pushed a mug across the table towards Florrie. ‘This whole thing is going to rocket further as soon as the press discover where Dolores will be performing on her birthday. Florrie Appleton will be known by the world and W. Houston Property Developers will have a riot on their hands.’
‘Even though we have to keep Dolores’s birthday celebrations a secret for now, I’m thinking that this is the perfect time to share that The Vintage Flower Van is being forced to cease trading after sixty years. With a bit of luck the media will run with the story!’
‘I think you’re right. We might need to get some advice on how to navigate the media though.’
‘Media? I’m your man.’ Aidy was standing outside the open back door.
‘Whoa! Does no one sleep in this village?’ Florrie said jokingly. ‘Come on in. The story is spreading by the second. I’ve even got comments on my social media from people in other countries. It’s unbelievable.’
‘I know, I’ve been monitoring it since the early hours.’ Aidy smiled as he reached inside his bag and brought out a copy of the original article and photo of Ada on her first day of trading. He handed it to Florrie.
Isla shuffled closer so she could see too. ‘Just look at that, Aunt Ada looks so young and so thrilled. That smile … she’s radiating happiness.’
Ada was proudly standing in front of The Vintage Flower Van – which was in exactly the same spot as it still was today – with her arms full of flowers.
Florrie read the headline out loud.‘Heartcross Flower Van Blooms into Business.’
The article outlined how Ada had qualified as a florist at the local college in Glensheil and then achieved her dream of running her own business.
‘The community of Heartcross have welcomed the colourful flower van, claiming it brings happiness to all around, and Ada hopes The Vintage Flower Van will be around for many years to come.’
Overcome with a sudden rush of emotion, Florrie blinked back the tears.
Isla gently bumped her shoulder against Florrie’s. ‘It’s wonderful, isn’t it?’
‘It is, but I can’t help but be saddened by the part where Aunt Ada says she hopes The Vintage Flower Van will be around for years.’
‘About that. I understand that W. Houston Property Developers have declined to hand the van over to you after Ada’s death?’ asked Aidy.
‘That’s correct.’ Florrie was downcast.
‘That seems a little harsh. What is it to them?’
Florrie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It’s starting to feel like it’s some kind of personal vendetta. Why else would they be so determined to flatten the land to build new houses? Rose Cottage is my family home and it was home to Aunt Ada and Uncle Ewart for their entire married life. Aunt Ada’s business was built here and she turned the gardens from this…’ Florrie stood up and walked over to the dresser. She took out a pile of photographs from the drawer and then placed them in front of Aidy and Isla. ‘…into what they are now.’
Aidy flicked through the photographs of fallen-down sheds, large areas of hardened soil full of stones, overgrown bushes… There wasn’t any colour or a flower in sight.
