Page 37 of Whispers from the Past

That night she slept fitfully and gave up at 5am. She’d tried listening to music with headphones in to lull her back to sleep, but Absolute Radio’s 00s had decided to play Flowers by SFA and she was transported back to the club for Holly’s birthday; descending the stairs and finding Luke in the middle of the throng of the crowd. It would seem that the universe was messing with her. Quietly, so as not to wake Eleanor, Rose padded down the stairs into the bookshop and settled herself into the armchair with her copy of Wild Magic by Tamora Pierce. She wondered whether delving into the world of Numair and Daine would help her unravel what was puzzling her so much about Luke. Three hours later, Eleanor came in with a cup of tea and two slices of toast on a small melamine tray and a copy of Jane Eyre.

‘You’ve seemed a little troubled lately with Luke and I wondered whether you might need Bronte’s help?’

Rose smiled and gratefully accepted the breakfast that she hadn’t realised she so desperately wanted.

‘Am I that obvious?’

‘Only to someone like me who has too much time on their hands? Luke still being distant?’ Eleanor asked as she sat down on the arm of the chair, pulling her dressing gown a little closer due to the chill that was coming in from the gap at the bottom of the door.

‘He swings between friendly and distant so quickly, I just can’t keep up anymore. I’m not sure it’s worth me even trying to work him out.’

‘I’m sure the water will clear soon enough. Just hang in there. Right, now I’ve made sure you’ve got a bit of breakfast, I’m off to get dressed.’

‘Before you go, I want to get some flowers for out front. Are there any garden centres locally?’

‘You don’t need a garden centre. Mrs Latimer has a flower shop up on New Road. She’ll have everything you need.’

‘I thought she just sold cut flowers?’

‘No, that’s just what’s out the front. Round the back she’ll have what you need. And if not, she can get it for you.’

Rose watched as Eleanor carefully eased herself up from the chair and made her way back to her annex. Not for the first time she was overcome with a sense of disbelief that she had found herself in this lovely little bookshop in this little corner of England.

By 9:30 Rose was dressed and ready for the day ahead. With the brighter days setting in and the warmer Spring weather just around the corner, she had decided that today was the day to tackle the outside of the bookshop. With Eleanor set up at the till inside, Rose made her way up the steep road to find the flower shop. The smell of the flowers for sale hit her the closer she got and she was greeted with a wonderful array of beautiful plants spilling onto the road outside. Rose ducked slightly to enter through the door of the shop that opened straight onto New Road.

‘Morning,’ a friendly voice greeted her from the back of the shop.

‘Morning,’ Rose called back cheerfully as she waited for whoever was out back to come into the reception area. She took some time to take in the different bouquets of flowers as a slight woman, probably around Eleanor’s age, came into view. Her grey hair was pulled back into a messy bun which extenuated her warm amber eyes. ‘How can I help?’

‘I’d like to create a flower display to hang outside the Book Nook, but I’m not naturally green fingered so could do with some help.’

‘You’ve come to the right place. Are we thinking hanging baskets or window boxes?’

‘Both?’

‘Excellent, right let’s get you fixed up. I’m Siobhan by the way. And you must be Rose?’ Siobhan held out her hand, then looking at it she rubbed them down the front of her cream apron. ‘Sorry, muddy hands - par for the course in my line of work!’.

Rose shook her, now slightly less muddy, hand and followed Siobhan into the nursery garden that was hidden from the main round around the back of the shop.

‘Right, choose the boxes and baskets you’d like and then we can sort out what to go in them.’

As Rose took in the garden, she was amazed at how much stuff Siobhan had been able to fit in the space available. Hanging baskets, window boxes and plant pots of every shape and size imaginable filled each nook and cranny. Even the rafters hadn’t escaped. After careful consideration, she chose two hanging baskets that looked like bird cages and a wrought iron window box.

‘Excellent choice,’ Siobhan said approvingly from the small archway that led back into the main area of the shop.

‘I didn’t realise what a treasure trove this place is, Siobhan.’

‘It helps that I’ve been here for so long. I was born upstairs, did you know that?’

‘No I didn’t know that. So you must know Eleanor pretty well then, with you both being born here.’

‘Of course. We went to school together. It is such a terrible shame what happened to her. Losing everyone that meant anything to her within years of each other. To be alone for so long. I’m glad you’re there with her now though.’ Rose was just about to ask more about what had happened to Eleanor, but Siobhan had bustled herself off back into the shop and was reeling off names of plants that Rose could fill the baskets and window box with. She didn’t have a clue what any of these plants were like, and in the end decided to just let Siobhan choose for her. Thirty minutes later she found herself with an errant wheelbarrow, attempting to navigate her way back down to The Book Nook - without damaging anyone’s ankles or hub caps!

Once safely at the bottom of the hill, she unloaded her purchases onto the pavement outside the bookshop. Siobhan had been incredibly helpful and Rose had everything ready to put in situ. She had even lent her a drill to attach the window box to the sill. Living alone for all those years, Rose was pretty good at DIY, but she hadn’t drilled into Yorkshire stone slabs before so wasn’t ready for the noise she generated.

‘What on earth?’ Tony called out from the door of the cafe a few seconds later.

‘SORRY!’ Rose shouted back over the noise of the drill. She didn’t see the point in stopping though, she was nearly done. She moved the drill over for the second hole and attacked the stone slab for the final time. ‘All done. Sorry, I probably should have warned you.’