“Part of the deal was that she had to get a job. So she ended up working here,” he concludes.
“One of my favorite workers,” a voice says, from inside the shop, making both of us jump.
A woman appears in the doorway, bustling through with a bouquet made up of autumn colors that she places carefully on one of the stands, then wipes her hands and comes over to us, wearing a warm smile. At a guess, she’s in her late fifties, quite short and with a round, open-book face, framed by frizzy curls, and bright green eyes. Her woolly jumper under the apron is bright purple, a perfect clash with the pink trousers she’s wearing.
“Hello, Beth.” Tom’s expression lights up. “How are you?”
“Not as busy as I’d like, I’m afraid, Thomas,” she says, her eyes flickering to me with interest.
“This is Emily, Cordelia’s friend. She’s her bridesmaid for the wedding.”
“How lovely.” She beams, putting her hands on her hips. “Is Cordelia with you?”
“She’s out on the horse.”
“Course she is.” She notices something in one of the nearby bouquets on the stand next to us and reaches over to rearrange a couple of the stems. “It’s a pity she doesn’t get out more. She does love it and she’s got a good seat. Very elegant.”
“I was telling Emily about the summer Cordelia worked here.”
“So I heard. A long time ago now. Makes me feel old. I can’t believe she’s getting married. In my head, she’ll always be a bright-eyed teenager, always talking back or biting her nails. Nice chap, isn’t he?”
“Doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.”
She reaches up and gives Tom a good thwack over the head. “Stop it, you. You’re very lucky to have such a caring sister.”
“Was she a good employee?” I ask, between giggles at Tom’s expense. “I admit that I can’t imagine her working here.”
“As I said, she was one of my favorites. She was so creative. She had a wonderful imagination, which you need with flowers. She was reluctant at first because she was still in such a strop with her parents for sending her back here while all her friends were partying in London. You can imagine, Paxton isn’t much fun for a teenager. But she got into the swing of it and started showing up for work early, leaving late. We had some wonderful chats.”
“You’re painting a very sweet image of my dear sister, Beth,” Tom teases, “but you’re leaving out some key details.”
“Her customer-service skills needed a bit of work,” she admits, giving him a knowing smile. “She wasn’t particularly patient with our more indecisive clients. And then there was the incident with Matt…”
“He went to her school,” Tom jumps in when Beth trails off. “He was supposed to be going out with one of Cordelia’s friends but came here one day and ordered a bunch of roses for another girl in the year above.”
“That sounds stupid of him.”
“Cordelia chased him out of the shop and threw a bucket at him.”
“She missed, mind you, and it was an empty bucket so no flowers were harmed,” Beth adds defensively. “The lad deserved it, if you ask me.” She tuts, then sighs, placing a hand on Tom’s arm. “I’d better get back to work. Do send Cordelia my love. I know she rarely comes into Paxton but tell her to pop by if she has time. I’m open until three today.”
“I will,” he promises.
“Nice to meet you, Emily,” she says, disappearing into the doorway.
“She’s wonderful,” I say, falling into step with Tom as we head toward the green.
“She is. And she’s been here forever, grew up in Paxton andtook over the family business. If you think she’s funny, you should have met her mum. Scathingly witty, but you did not want to get on her bad side.”
“I’m not sure I’d want to get on Beth’s bad side. How’s the head?”
“I think a bump is forming,” he says, feeling the top of it. “She’s ruthless.”
“Obviously very fond of your family.”
“Who isn’t?” He grins, turning the corner and coming to an abrupt halt. He inhales deeply, pointing across to the green outside the pub. “There it is. That’s where I lay. Even now, my performance brings a tear to my eye.”
“I feel as though I missed an important event in British theatrical history. Perhaps you could re-create the moment.”
