The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop. Tracy Corbett

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       CHAPTER EIGHT

       Saturday, 1 March

      Evie pressed her hands against the wall and pushed her heel into the floor, trying to get the maximum stretch in her calf muscle. There wasn’t really enough room inside her tiny hallway for stretching, but running without warming up would only result in a torn muscle and as she hadn’t exercised for a while she needed to take it easy, allowing her body time to adjust.

      Satisfied she was fully loosened up, she closed the door behind her and skipped down the steps onto the pavement. Adjusting her headphones, she set off down Folkestone Road, pleased to discover some bounce left in her old trainers.

      Running at night wouldn’t usually be her chosen time to exercise. She much preferred the early mornings when the dew still glistened on the ground and the air was fresh and crisp, but early starts at The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop had put an end to any kind of activity before work. She was up at five most days, either visiting the wholesalers or waiting for them to deliver. It wasn’t that she minded getting up early – managing the florist’s was what she wanted – but the upshot of her new regime meant that if she was going to exercise then it needed to be after the shop closed.

      Sport had always featured in Evie’s life. To deny herself exercise was like not eating or sleeping; her body just didn’t function as well without it. As a kid she’d been a member of her local athletics club, competing at events and showing promise as a sprinter until she’d developed hips, at which point her times had slowed and she’d had to accept Olympic gold wasn’t within her grasp. But it hadn’t stopped her enjoying running, and she’d switched to middle distance instead. In recent years she’d tried joining a gym, but with nothing to stimulate her mind or senses, other than watching others struggling with the machinery or showing off their bulging muscles, it felt too claustrophobic. She wanted to be outside, feeling the air in her lungs and the road beneath her feet, not constricted by a monotonous treadmill.

      She turned into Biddenden Lane, ran past the church and headed towards the post office. There was a nice loop of the village, giving her a good five miles in which to stretch her legs and get the blood pumping. Running a circuit meant there was less temptation to turn back. Each time she ran she tried to improve her time. It was the incentive she needed to not stay tucked up indoors with a hot chocolate and mindless TV.

      Ten minutes into her run she was feeling the effects. Her lungs were stinging from the chilly night air and her thighs were burning with a desire to stop. But Evie always hit a wall ten minutes into training. She just needed to jog through it, keep taking in oxygen and allow the acid in her muscles to reduce.

      Distraction always helped, which was why running outdoors was so much better than a gym. There was more to look at, something to focus on other than how knackered you were.

      As Evie reached the main crossroads she passed under the illuminated sign for Heatherton, a large feature depicting an image of the Allsop twins. According to legend, the twin sisters were born in the early 1100s, joined at the shoulders and hips. They lived in this state for thirty-four years, never leaving the village. When Rosetta died, Louisa refused to be separated from her sibling and took to her bedroom, where shortly after she too died. So attached to Heatherton were they that the sisters bequeathed the income from twenty acres of land to the church, hence their image being a permanent fixture in the village. Evie couldn’t imagine being conjoined to her sister Holly for three decades. They would have throttled each other before their second birthday.

      As Evie crossed the bridle path adjacent to the cricket pitch, she became aware of someone behind her. There was nothing unusual about this – it was a well-populated area, the streets rarely deserted, even at nine o’clock at night. But still she glanced over her shoulder, spotting another jogger some thirty metres behind. He was male, dressed in dark clothing, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up, masking his face.

      For one horrible moment she imagined it was Kyle – the man had a similar running style – but she quickly realised it wasn’t, it was just her mind playing tricks. Kyle was miles away. Thank God.

      Evie picked up her pace. Maybe jogging alone at night wasn’t such a sensible idea, after all. She wasn’t exactly being streetwise. She switched off her music, figuring she’d better pay attention to whatever was going on around her.

      Thankfully, her second wind had kicked in and she was now comfortably in her stride.

      Letting her legs stretch out with each movement, Evie’s mind drifted back to a time before she’d met Kyle. Having finished her college course in floristry she’d moved into a shared house with three other girls and landed her first job at a big garden centre. Within two years she’d been promoted and joined a larger florist’s as assistant manager. Things were on the up. It was a time of personal achievement, transitioning from adolescence to adulthood, partying with her friends and enjoying life to the full.

      And then she’d met Kyle Caplin.

      Kyle had recently left the army, having served two tours of Afghanistan. At first he’d been charming and funny, always the life of the party, showering her with compliments and supportive of her career aspirations. But after ten months of dating the laughter had started to subside. Little cracks appeared. He started suggesting she change outfit when they went out, discouraged her from learning to drive, guilted her into staying at home rather than socialising with friends. When Kyle suggested they move in together, Evie hadn’t been keen, preferring to keep things as they were. He hadn’t taken the rejection well, wanting to know why she didn’t want him around. Was there someone else? Was she cheating on him? Who was she ‘dressing up’ for?

      Unable to reason with him or cope with his irrational jealousy, Evie had broken things off. But he wouldn’t accept it was over and kept begging her for another chance, promising to change. So she’d relented. It became a constant cycle of breaking up and getting back together. Everything would be fine for a while, and then his old habits would return and things would deteriorate.

      In hindsight, Evie knew her attempts to keep Kyle happy hadn’t been about loving him, but a fear of rocking the boat. Toning down her appearance, declining social invitations, constantly reassuring him she didn’t want anyone else – it had been exhausting. Ironically, it was Kyle who’d ended up cheating, hooking up with a woman at the support centre he attended for СКАЧАТЬ