Читать книгу The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop - Tracy Corbett - Страница 11

Evie braked sharply as she pulled into the tight parking space at Peacock Court, narrowly avoiding an elderly resident wobbling on his walking stick. The last thing she wanted was to knock the poor man over. Having never owned a car, she was woefully lacking in experience since passing her test a few months earlier. But, as travelling by bus with an armful of flowers wasn’t an option, she’d overcome her aversion and leased a small Transit.

Climbing out of the van, she checked that the man was okay. He waved away her polite enquiries, seemingly unaffected by his instability. Most days one of her casual drivers made the deliveries so Evie could fulfil orders back at the shop. But Cordelia Harrison-Walker required a more personal service, one Evie was happy to provide.

Pushing the bell on the intercom, Evie was buzzed in. She carried her bag and tray of flowers along the corridor. Peacock Court was a generic collection of one-storey apartments, the communal areas decorated in uninspiring muted greys, until you reached the bright red door of number seventeen. When Evie had received a call from Cordelia Harrison-Walker a few weeks earlier, asking if The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop were able to offer a home visiting service, Evie had formed a prim mental picture of the ninety-four-year-old woman. She’d assumed simplicity and moderation would be the key to fulfilling her client’s brief. How wrong she’d been.

Moderation wasn’t a word that described Cordelia in any shape or form. Her small apartment was painted dusky blue with matching carpets and curtains. Grand pieces of furniture were crammed into the limited space, the sofa and chairs upholstered in expensive gold brocade. The walls housed large and dominant pieces of artwork, but it was the baby grand piano filling the living space that had really caused Evie’s sharp intake of breath. Seventeen Peacock Court was an opulent and extravagant gem nestled inside a soulless box of bland local authority housing. Evie loved it.

With her hands full, Evie waited for the door to open. As per her previous visits, she was greeted by a strong waft of perfume and the tiny yet indomitable form of Cordelia Harrison-Walker, dressed in a red velvet wrap dress, her hair coiffed into a chignon.

‘Darling girl, do come in.’ Cordelia ushered her inside, her agility defying her ninety-four years. As always, she was heavily made up and her home spotless, not a sequined cushion out of place. ‘Can I assist you with your wares?’

Evie lowered the tray of flowers onto the sideboard. ‘I’m good, thanks, Mrs Harrison-Walker.’ Evie was treated to a double-cheeked kiss, as though she were a treasured relative, rather than a visiting tradeswoman.

‘Dispense with the formalities, my dear. It’s plain and simple Cordelia.’

Plain and simple weren’t adjectives that sprung to mind.

Cordelia squeezed her hand. ‘Now, I have a lovely fruitcake cooling in the kitchen, one of my specialties. Make yourself at home whilst I attend to the refreshments.’ She stared down at Evie’s feet. ‘Goodness me, what do we have here?’ Cordelia peered closer, inspecting Evie’s glass-heeled sandals. ‘Are they … fish?’

Evie nodded. ‘I found them at a garage sale. Great, aren’t they?’ She angled her foot so Cordelia could see the gold scaling covering the orange fabric. The front of the shoe formed the fish’s head, complete with wide eyes and an open smiling mouth, allowing Evie’s toes to poke through. They weren’t comfortable or practical, but she loved wearing them.

‘They’re original, I’ll say that. Colourful too.’ Her gaze drifted upwards, over Evie’s faded jeans and plain sweatshirt. Her expression indicated a little colour elsewhere might not go amiss, but she was too polite to voice any criticism.

Evie knew her attire was dull. She’d never been an outlandish dresser, but since leaving Guildford she’d stuck with neutral colours and plain designs, content to blend into the background. Evie never used to be self-conscious about her appearance, even if she didn’t always get it right, but Kyle had chipped away at her confidence, controlling what she wore and disapproving of her ‘silly’ shoes until she’d relented and stopped wearing them. Was it such a crime to be ‘silly’? She didn’t think so.

‘They make me smile,’ Evie offered, by way of explanation, not wanting to go into too much detail about her reasoning.

Cordelia patted her arm. ‘Well, nothing wrong with that. And you have such a pretty smile.’ She pinched Evie’s cheek before heading into the kitchen, shaking her head as she went. ‘Fish, indeed.’

Evie picked up the ceramic vases that had been left out for her and went into the bathroom to fill them. In keeping with the rest of the apartment, the room was lavishly decorated in bold black-and-white stripes with wrought-iron accessories, the walls displaying several framed artsy photos of Cordelia’s two daughters and five granddaughters. Evie knew from previous visits that Cordelia was a woman who adored her family. By the sounds of it, she’d outlived more than one husband and had enjoyed a full and successful life. Both her daughters lived in Australia and had distinguished careers with large houses and wealthy husbands.

The images made Evie think of her own childhood in Surrey. Her life had been fairly normal: two doting parents, a younger sister, grandparents nearby. But her parents’ divorce, just after her twelfth birthday, had changed everything. The family home was sold and her mum moved in with a man called Bob who had three younger boys. Her dad rented a one-bedroom flat in Slough, claiming it was all he could afford thanks to their mum ‘fleecing him’ in the divorce. Her sister, Holly, moved in with him, sleeping in the only spare bed. Evie spent the next four years switching between Bob’s house and her grandparents’ house, never really feeling wanted, detached from any kind of family unit. When Evie was sixteen, her dad married a woman called Georgia who promptly relocated them to Penzance, severing what little connection she had with her dad. She’d barely seen him since.

Evie carried the vases into the living room and placed them on the sideboard. She began arranging the flowers, a sense of loneliness looming over her, as it always did when she thought about her family. They’d become acquaintances in her life, no longer a constant, but intermittent planets drifting in and out of her solar system, leaving a huge black hole in their wake.

Cordelia appeared, pushing a hostess trolley laden with matching china and a three-tier cake stand. ‘What flowers will you be treating me to this week? I did so enjoy the sunflowers.’

Evie had discovered pretty quickly that nothing was ever too colourful or exuberant for her client, which meant she was able to unleash her inner creativity. ‘I’m so pleased you liked them. The yellow looked beautiful against the blue of the walls. This week I’ve gone for something a little offbeat. I hope that’s okay.’

Cordelia beamed. ‘Excellent. Do help yourself to cake.’ She perched on the sofa, cup and saucer held delicately in her age-defying hands.

‘Maybe later.’ Evie separated out the pink gerberas and lisianthus and began filling the vases, weaving in green chrysanthemums to complement the bold scheme.

‘They’re an unusual colour.’ Cordelia watched Evie work as she always did. ‘Striking. Are they chrysanthemums?’

Evie nodded, adjusting the balance of colour as she went. ‘Did you know that chrysanthemums have been grown by the Chinese for over two thousand years? They were used as an antibiotic to treat high blood pressure and angina.’

Cordelia looked impressed. ‘Maybe I should substitute them for my beta blockers.’

Evie laughed. ‘I wouldn’t, if I were you, they taste horrible.’ She carried one of the vases over to the baby grand, knowing her client liked to look at the displays whilst playing Chopin. ‘They also symbolise compassion, friendship and secret love.’

Cordelia smiled. ‘Ah, no wonder I like them. I’ve always been drawn to symbols of love. My second husband used to bring me trinkets from all over the world that were claimed to be aphrodisiacs. Not that we needed any help in that department.’ She looked knowingly at Evie. ‘Todd was a very attentive lover. I was never left wanting.’

Evie nearly dropped the vase. ‘Right … Well, that’s good.’

Cordelia became contemplative. ‘I used to pity my girlfriends whose husbands left them unsatisfied. It’s really not very polite, or conducive to a healthy marriage.’

Evie wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She picked up the orange Alexander roses and busied herself cutting stems.

‘You’d do well to take a lover, you know.’

Evie looked around for the protective mat to place the vase on. ‘How do you know I haven’t?’

Cordelia sipped her tea. ‘My dear, a woman’s emotion shines through her eyes. Whether she’s experiencing joy or sadness or betrayal, it’s there for the world to see. And you, my dear, are clearly not getting any.’

Evie startled, only just managing to keep hold of the vase before it landed on the carpet. ‘Say it like it is, why don’t you?’

Cordelia raised an eyebrow. ‘Am I wrong?’

Evie placed the vase on the mat, angling it so she could check all aspects were perfect. ‘Let’s just say I’m kind of off men at the moment.’

‘That much is obvious. May I ask why?’

Evie carried the second vase over to the mantelpiece. ‘Bad experience.’

‘Well, love isn’t for wimps. But you don’t seem like the timid type. Get back on the horse. Life is so much more fun with a man in tow.’

Evie wiped her damp hands on her jeans. ‘That’s as maybe, but it’s not so easy. I mean, how can you know who to trust? A man might look like an Italian film star and appear sane, but underneath the facade he could still be a nutter.’

A glint crept into Cordelia’s expression. ‘And who might this Italian film star be?’

Evie gathered up the discarded leaves from the sideboard, an image of the plumber’s forearms tumbling into her mind. It was unnerving how often this had happened over the last week. Usually when she was daydreaming. Suddenly there he was, as clear as if he was standing right in front of her, running his hands through his dark ruffled hair, or laughing in response to something Saffy had said. She shook the image away, scolding herself for a moment’s weakness. ‘Oh, no one,’ she lied.

‘He sounds divine. An adventure waiting to happen. Dip your toe into that stream, my dear. You’ll enjoy the sensation.’

Evie felt herself blushing. ‘I wasn’t being specific. It was a generalisation. There isn’t anyone. I was just saying that you can’t know what someone is like until it’s too late. The next thing you know you’re trapped in a bad situation. It’s not worth it. I’d rather be on my own.’

Cordelia didn’t look convinced. ‘Well, you know what they say. Lose a love, find a life.’

‘Exactly. And that’s what I’m doing.’ Evie wiped down the surfaces, ensuring she left the place immaculate.

Cordelia tilted her head. ‘By wearing fish shoes?’

Evie looked down at her feet. ‘It’s a start.’

‘Hmm, we’ll see. Do come and sit down, you’ve earned a break.’ She handed Evie a neatly folded napkin. ‘Now, tell me about your family. I’m curious to hear more.’

Knowing one of the main reasons Cordelia chose a home arrangement service was the chance to enjoy regular company, it was another forty minutes before Evie was packed up and ready to leave. She didn’t mind. Cordelia was a delight to visit, an unpredictable phenomenon, defying both age and expectation. Maybe a more mercenary service provider would charge extra for their time, but Evie wouldn’t be comfortable doing that. Besides, in the absence of family it was nice to have someone to chat to.

Bidding Cordelia goodbye, Evie lugged her kit towards the double doors at the end of the corridor. Thankfully, a woman wearing a white nurse’s uniform held the door open, allowing her to exit without having to put anything down. As she thanked the woman, Evie noticed a middle-aged woman in a wheelchair, one side of her mouth turned down. She had kind eyes. Evie was reminded of Cordelia’s mantra that a woman radiated her true emotion through them.

‘What lovely flowers.’ The nurse admired the leftover blooms in Evie’s tray. ‘Aren’t they pretty, Billie?’

The woman in the wheelchair nodded.

Opening the door to the adjacent apartment, the nurse angled the chair so she could wheel her patient inside. ‘Next time we’re out we’ll see if we can get some to brighten up the apartment.’

Evie made an instant decision. ‘These are left over from a display I’ve just finished. Would you like me to make a bouquet for you? No charge, obviously.’

The nurse looked down at her patient. ‘What a lovely idea. Would you like that, Billie? Flowers for the apartment?’

Billie nodded, mouthing something about money.

‘No, please, there’s no charge.’ Evie hoisted the tray onto her hip. ‘They’ll only go to waste. I’d rather see them enjoyed.’

The nurse looked delighted. ‘In that case, come in.’ She reversed the wheelchair through the doorway, beckoning Evie to follow.

As the woman was wheeled inside, she pointed to Evie’s shoes, a smile creasing one side of her face.

The inside of the apartment was nothing like Cordelia’s. The living area was sparse, with just a TV unit, a bookcase and two-seater sofa settled against the wall. Evie guessed they needed space to manoeuvre the wheelchair around. The soft ivory walls and various ornaments contrasted with the teal cushions, giving it a cosy if slightly masculine feel. It was a considered space, cared for.

The nurse positioned Billie in front of the TV. ‘Where will I find a vase, love?’ Her patient nodded towards the kitchen.

Evie followed, placing her bag on the kitchen table whilst the nurse hunted through the cupboards. She noticed the badge on her uniform. ‘Oshma. What a lovely name.’

The nurse smiled. ‘It means summer season. My father’s idea. I guess he wasn’t to know I’d turn out to be more of a hurricane.’ She handed Evie a cut-glass vase. ‘Can I get you a cuppa?’

Evie filled the vase with water. ‘Oh, no, thank you. I’ve just had one.’

‘Shout if you need anything.’ Oshma disappeared into the lounge.

Evie didn’t know why Billie was in a wheelchair, and it wasn’t her place to ask, but as she arranged the flowers she made a note to stop dwelling on her own problems and be thankful for the good things in life. She might have had a rough time in the past, but she’d moved to Kent to start afresh. And that’s what she needed to do. Okay, so she wasn’t a fan of relationships, but she had her business and her health, and that was a lot to be grateful for.

Glancing down at her feet, Evie grinned, cheered by the sight of two goldfish smiling back at her. Reintroducing novelty shoes into her life had definitely been the right decision. She was asserting her independence, giving her confidence a much-needed kick up the backside.

Yep, she was back on that horse.