Florrie thought about sharing that she might have seen someone from her past at the funeral, but decided against it. She didn’t want to give Tom any more thought time, even though it was very difficult to push him from her mind. ‘About how much Dolores and Martha will have had to drink by the time we arrive at the pub,’ she said, hoping to throw Isla off the scent of a juicy story.
Isla chuckled. ‘They’ll undoubtedly be in full swing by now.’
‘I think that’s exactly what’s needed this afternoon.’
After quickly arranging her great-grandmother’s favourite bouquet, Florrie led Isla into Rose Cottage. ‘I’ll lay the flowers on her grave before I go to the wake,’ she said, pausing to pick up the pile of post from the mat. She shuffled through the envelopes. ‘It’s mainly condolence cards; everyone has been so kind. Would you like a drink? I feel like I need one to steady my nerves … and to catch up with everyone else before we walk into the pub.’
Isla pointed to the half-full bottle of port with two glasses at the side of the sink. ‘Should we use those?’
Florrie shook her head. ‘They’re from the night before Aunt Ada passed away,’ she admitted, a bit embarrassed. ‘I couldn’t bear to wash them up and tidy them away. I know that sounds daft.’
‘It doesn’t. It must be difficult now, but with time it’ll get easier. Let’s have a glass of Ada’s favourite port and we can open the cards together before we head back to the wake.’
Florrie nodded, reaching for clean glasses from the kitchen cupboard.
After the port was poured, they raised a toast to Aunt Ada. ‘She always swore by her port, having a glass before she went to bed every night. It was a tradition she carried on from her marriage to Uncle Ewart, something special they’d shared. Shall we sit in the garden?’
Isla nodded and Florrie led the way to the small courtyard. ‘Can you smell that lavender? It won’t be long until it needs pruning and then hopefully we’ll get a second burst.’
‘It’s such a gorgeous aroma,’ replied Isla. ‘What a suntrap Ada created out here … and look at that view!’
The view from the courtyard over Rose Cottage’s gardens was truly stunning, and there was an inviting calmness about the place. Over the years, Ada had been very self-sufficient, growing her own vegetables and herbs alongside her one true love – flowers. There were numerous gardens and each was a blooming masterpiece. It was a beautiful sanctuary, every flower bed erupting with colour.
After toasting Great-Aunt Ada, Florrie began to open the condolence cards and read the lovely messages inside. ‘She had so many friends. Some of these are from her regular customers. Their messages are so kind and full of their memories of Ada.’ The last envelope was a letter addressed to her great-aunt from the local solicitors in Heartcross, the bold logo standing out. It was marked ‘confidential’, prompting Florrie to confess, ‘I feel like I’m prying by opening her post.’
‘You’re next of kin though, and no doubt there’s legal stuff to sort out. You’re best to open it and see what it’s about.’
Florrie slowly opened the envelope and looked inside. ‘It’s a bill from the solicitors – the invoice for drafting Great-Aunt Ada’s will.’ Florrie looked up at Isla. ‘I still wonder whether she had an inkling about what was to come.’
Isla shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. I think she was just getting her affairs in order so she could enjoy her retirement. Having a will lined up just made sense – and it will make things straightforward for you.’
‘That’s true. I’ll follow up with them this week to see what the will says. For now, we need to get back to the wake; everyone will likely be wondering where we are.’
They finished their drinks and with the bouquet of flowers in Florrie’s hand, they parted ways at the bottom of the lane. ‘I won’t be long,’ said Florrie. ‘I’ll lay the flowers and be right with you.’
She walked briskly back towards the church and as soon as she passed through the wrought-iron gates she made her way towards the grave and stood the bouquet up against her great-grandmother’s headstone. ‘I’ll see you all next Friday, if not before.’ She edged backwards, still looking at the graves, and as she turned away she bumped straight into someone standing behind her.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said hurriedly, brushing back the hair that had fallen into her eyes as she collided with the stranger. ‘That was my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going.’
‘There’s no need to apologise.’
Immediately, Florrie recognised the voice. She slowly raised her head and locked eyes with his. Her jaw fell open and her heart began beating nineteen to the dozen. She couldn’t believe it.
Tom.
Here.
Close enough to touch…
Flustered at the thought, Florrie felt herself blush.
‘It’s been a long time, Red, too long.’ The look in his eyes was warm, the sexy, captivating smile that she had once been obsessed with still wide. ‘But you’re no longer red, I see. The brown suits you, you look…’
Florrie narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to the side, waiting to see what compliment he could possibly come up with after everything that happened between them in the past. After his betrayal.
‘More beautiful than the last time I saw you.’
Florrie was still staring at him. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She’d thought of this moment many times and rehearsed in her mind exactly what she would say if their paths ever crossed again, but faced with him now, those thoughts had evaporated.
