‘I’m still laughing about earlier when Gran shared that she and Ada used to cart Dolores around in a wheely holdall when they used to leave parties, so the paparazzi didn’t snap a photo of her.’
‘It’s a good job Dolores is petite! The things that they got up to…’
‘One last question,’ announced Martha. ‘Most likely to go on holiday with someone they’ve just met?’
Jokingly, Isla turned towards Florrie. ‘I’m saying you.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you! I think you probably got up to more things in your university days than you’ve let on about.’
Florrie put her hands on her chest, pretending to look hurt. ‘I’m saying nothing,’ she declared. Even though she knew that Isla was teasing, her words had resonated. The last time she’d thrown caution to the wind she’d done exactly that and gone on a two-week holiday with someone she’d admired from afar but had only spoken to once.
It may have only been two weeks in the arms of Tom Houston but he’d swept her off her feet and made her feel like she’d never felt before – or since. Her heart had swelled with happiness and plans had been made but then it all came tumbling down, and she was left – alone – to pick up the pieces of her broken heart.
‘I think I’m ready to go home now,’ she announced. A lot of the villagers were beginning to head off and the crowd was dwindling.
‘Let’s go then,’ said Isla supportively.
Florrie stood up and began to thank everyone. Then she and Isla strolled back towards Rose Cottage arm in arm. ‘Thank you for today,’ Florrie said, putting the key in the door and giving Isla a heart-warming smile. ‘I couldn’t have got through it without you.’
‘You don’t need to thank me, that’s exactly what friends are for.’
‘And Drew doesn’t mind you staying with me tonight?’ Florrie was grateful that Isla had offered to stay; she didn’t want to be on her own, not after today. And though she could have gone back to her home on Love Heart Lane, Florrie wanted to stay at Rose Cottage. She felt closer to Great-Aunt Ada there, and it would make it a little easier to prepare the flowers for the van first thing tomorrow morning.
‘Of course he doesn’t mind. And if you want some help opening up in the morning, I’ll be here. What’s the plan for The Vintage Flower Van? How are you going to work two businesses?’
They walked into the kitchen and Florrie made them each a cup of tea. ‘I’ve had a chat with Martha about that this evening. I think at the moment I want to keep it where it belongs, outside Rose Cottage, but there’s a couple of options to consider. For instance, I could park the van outside Buttercup Barn and have it become an extension of my business, or I could leave it here and hire a florist to man it. In the meantime, Martha has agreed to help me cover both businesses until I make a decision.’
‘That decision doesn’t need to be rushed. You take your time.’
‘I will. For now, I’m going to stay here and open up the van each morning. I can prepare existing orders from Buttercup Barn too. Martha and I can work it between ourselves.’
‘That sounds like a plan, and of course I’ll help as much as I can.’
They stood on the lavender courtyard outside the back door and looked over the gardens.
‘I think it would be good to take part in Flowers in Bloom one last time. For Ada,’ Isla said gently.
‘I think you might be right. Keeping me busy during this sad time will do me good…’ Florrie hesitated. ‘I need to be occupied.’
‘You say that like there’s more going on with you. Is everything okay?’
Florrie thought about sharing what had happened today at the cemetery, but her emotions were already running high, and really, what was there to tell? Hopefully, Tom had got the message loud and clear and he was already headed out of town. He’d made his choices eight years ago and there was no point raking over the past now.
‘No, not at all.’ Little white lies seemed to be becoming a habit. ‘In a funny sort of way, I quite enjoyed this afternoon. Dolores and Martha were fantastic in making it a celebration of life. They certainly did keep everyone’s spirits high.’
‘Including ours.’ Isla hiccupped before taking a sip of her tea.
‘I do feel exhausted though.’
‘Why don’t you have an early night?’
‘You don’t mind?’
‘Not at all. I can use one myself.’
After they finished their tea, Isla made her way up the stairs to bed while Florrie locked the back door and took one last glance at Ada’s final glass of port, still sitting on the sideboard. With a tear in her eye, she washed up the teacups then moved Ada’s reading glasses to the dresser, along with a newspaper and the box of photographs she’d been looking through the night before she passed away. She hesitated in the doorway and glanced out of the window. ‘Good night, Great-Aunt Ada, sleep well.’
