Strange, isn’t it, how our minds work? How something forgotten can resurface again? It’s exactly what happens when this man comes into the shop. I’m aware of Lucy arranging flowers as I remember him coming here before, one Christmas; the zing of something I felt as he asked me to put a massive bouquet together.
‘Hi.’ He looks slightly hesitant. ‘I believe you both know my grandmother?’ As I look at him blankly, he goes on. ‘She owns the walled garden where you grow flowers.’
My jaw drops. ‘You’re Mary’s grandson?’
He nods. ‘I’m Joe.’
‘I’m Edie. This is Lucy.’ I glance at Lucy, suddenly filled with dread that’s he come here to tell us the house is being put on the market; or worse, that it’s already been sold.
‘How is Mary?’ Lucy asks.
‘She hasn’t been well.’ For a moment he looks troubled. ‘She’s better now.’ He pauses. ‘Actually, she’s the reason I’ve come here.’ He frowns. ‘I’ve been trying to persuade her it’s time to sell the house. She’s made it very clear she doesn’t want to – and I only want what’s best for her. She told me one of you had offered to move in and look after her.’ He looks at us uncertainly. ‘Is that right?’
‘That’s right,’ Lucy says quickly. ‘Edie offered. It’s a very long story. But she’s selling her house. It seemed that, if it worked for Mary, they might be able to come to an arrangement that suited both of them.’
‘I’m already looking at other properties,’ I tell him. ‘And obviously you don’t know us. But I wouldn’t be dependent on your mother in any way financially. I’m already there quite a bit working on the garden. The way I saw it, this could work for both of us – me helping her out in exchange for living in part of the house.’
‘I see.’ He still looks uncertain. ‘My grandmother seems to think so, too. The house is definitely big enough for you both to have your own space.’ He smiles. ‘If she trusts you, it’s good enough for me.’ He hesitates. ‘I guess we need to talk about this properly. Are you busy now? I was wondering if there was somewhere we could go and get a coffee?’
Leaving Lucy to hold the fort, Joe and I walk towards the beach, to that little café you and I used to go to. I’ve always loved the way each day the sea is different, and this morning it’s alive, waves breaking onto the shingle, the air filled with spray.
Going into the café, we sit at a table near one of the windows.
‘Your flower shop is very cool,’ he says. ‘I came in before, a while back – to buy a bouquet.’ He looks amused. ‘It looks as though I bought my grandmother flowers that came from her own garden!’
‘Actually, I remember.’ For some reason, my cheeks are suddenly hot. ‘Probably because it was Christmas, and we were manically busy.’
‘I feel like I should ask you some questions,’ he says as our coffee is placed on the table in front of us.
‘You mean, interview me?’ I raise my eyebrows. ‘I understand. There’s not a lot to say. I’m single, I have two kids…’ I will always say two kids. ‘Lucy and I started Petals when our kids were young. My marriage broke up some time ago. I’ve been living in our family home. A little while ago, I put it on the market and as I said, I’m looking for somewhere to move to.’ I shrug. ‘It just feels like it’s time for a change.’
‘I was thinking more along the lines of, do you think you can cope with my grandmother?’ he says. ‘She’s incredibly stubborn. She likes to have things her way.’
‘We’ve always got on quite well,’ I say cautiously. ‘Though obviously it’s her house and I’ve never lived with her. I was thinking I could look after the house and do the cooking and washing. But that I’d try to stay out of her way the rest of the time – I’m sure she’ll want some privacy. I would be there if anything happened, though – or if she needed me.’
‘You’d need to make sure she goes to bed.’ Joe shakes his head. ‘She’s taken to staying up all hours – it isn’t unusual for her to call me in the middle of the night. I think she loses track of time.’
‘I can certainly try.’ I pause. ‘Do you live around here?’
‘We live in London,’ he says briefly. ‘Grandma doesn’t want to move there and to be honest, I don’t think she’d take too well to me trying to look after her. Also, I’m busy with work. But…’ His eyes rest on mine. ‘She does seem to like the idea of you.’
I’m curious. ‘What do you do?’
‘I’m a vet – I have a small animal practice in South London. I love my job. But I miss the diversity of being a country vet.’
I’m silent for a moment, thinking of you – of all the questions you’d have for someone like Joe, as dedicated as you were to caring for animals. Suddenly there’s a lump in my throat and I change the subject. ‘Does your grandmother have any other family?’
‘There’s just me.’ Joe’s eyes cloud over. ‘My parents died when I was a child. She brought me up.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ But a strange feeling takes me over. The realisation that loss reaches its tendrils into all our lives; that Joe grew up not knowing his parents; that Mary, too, knows how it feels to lose her child.
‘Thanks. It’s fine – I mean, it wasn’t at the time. It was awful. But I’ve always known how lucky I was to have her.’
We agree to a trial period of six months – if Mary agrees, that is. Joe calls me later to tell me she has and how grateful he is.
‘Move in whenever you like,’ he says. ‘She’s sorting out a bedroom as we speak.’
Change seems to be happening seamlessly; I let it carry me. It’s how it goes sometimes, isn’t it? At the same time, I think of Joe, realising I really, really like this man.
