The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop. Tracy Corbett

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СКАЧАТЬ things were ‘wonderful’ when your ex-boyfriend had made your life so utterly miserable you’d had to up sticks and move area just to preserve your sanity. It was even harder to believe life was ‘wonderful’ when the rusty metal shutter on your shop front wouldn’t budge, causing a tirade of random expletives to fill the chilly morning air. But that was the reality of her situation and she just had to deal with it.

      Evie rammed her shoulder against the slats, determined not to be outdone by a warped piece of aluminium. It was one thing to keep burglars out, it was quite another to deny the staff access, especially on the busiest day of the year.

      Valentine’s Day was both a blessing and a curse. Although she was guaranteed to be busy, with a multitude of sales and a much-needed boost to her limited funds, it was also a day that required a good deal of pretending. As a florist, Evie was in the business of ‘selling romance’. It wouldn’t do to be cynical and bitter. She had to smile, radiate happiness and ensure that The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop was the place to buy your loved one the perfect Valentine’s gift.

      The shutter finally relented, dislodging a blanket of snow from the wooden awning and sending it showering down on top of her. For a moment she stood there, shuddering as the sensation of wet crept down the back of her neck. Not the best start to the day.

      Despite the inconvenience of an overnight snowstorm, the shop front looked like a picture postcard. The leaded bay window arching onto the quaint high street looked almost Dickensian with its frosted glass front and icicle topping. Whatever else in her life sucked, the little business opportunity that had landed in her lap was indeed ‘wonderful’.

      When she’d made the decision to leave Surrey – in the hope that moving area would finally convince her ex their relationship was over – Evie had had no idea where she’d end up. She just knew she had to get away. It was only a chance viewing of an advert in the local paper that had led her to Heatherton.

      The previous owner of The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop had found love in the guise of a Texan realtor and wanted someone to take over the management of her business whilst she decided whether or not to permanently settle in the US. Evie had often dreamt of owning her own florists, so this was an ideal opportunity, and Kent suited her just fine. Heatherton was a mixture of old-world cottages and historic interest with new-build development and a decent shopping centre. Small enough that she didn’t feel overwhelmed, big enough to feel anonymous. The perfect place to start afresh.

      Her only hope was that Diana Smart wasn’t in any rush to sell. Evie needed time to make a profit and build up enough capital to make a business loan viable. She doubted any bank manager in their right mind would lend her the required funds in her present state of financial fragility.

      Pushing open the front door, she was greeted by the familiar aroma of cut flowers. The air inside was almost as chilly as out. Within twenty seconds she’d started sneezing. Her hay fever never seemed to abate, no matter what the weather, which was highly annoying.

      Despite the icy weather, it shouldn’t have been quite so cold inside. She checked her watch. Just after seven. The heating should have come on by now. She touched the radiator, fearing the worst. The pilot light must have gone out again.

      Sighing, she went over to the boiler and gave it a smack. Nothing happened. Great. Just what she needed. Snow outside and no hot water or heating. The flowers wouldn’t object, but it would certainly make working conditions grim.

      Delving inside the cramped cubbyhole under the sink, she dug out her padded body warmer and slipped it on over her fleece. Glancing down at her faded combats and boring trainers, she felt like the Michelin Man, all lumps and bumps. There was a time when she wouldn’t have chosen such non-descript clothing but now she owned nothing else. Well, apart from her collection of unusual shoes. Kyle might not have appreciated her love of novelty footwear, but he was no longer around to object, was he? Maybe it was time for her shoes to make a reappearance. She was tired of looking drab. Her wardrobe of army surplus gear and cheap sports attire was practical, but it did nothing for her self-esteem, or her figure, for that matter. No one would guess she was a size ten beneath all the layers.

      The wholesaler’s van pulled up outside, preventing her from researching a local plumbing firm. She spent the next fifteen minutes helping to unload the array of roses and lilies into the shop, struggling to make room for all the varieties of bloom on the limited floor space and grumbling about the inflated prices. January had been a slow month. Other than a depressing increase in funerals there hadn’t been much other custom. Coupled with the impact of the big supermarkets undercutting her prices, her profit margins were taking a hit. More than ever she needed Valentine’s Day to be a success. Forget romance. This was about survival.

      By seven thirty The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop was awash with colour, full to the brim with buckets of flowers, both inside and out. Eager to attract the morning commuters, she opened the doors early, trying to tempt any passers-by to call in and part with their cash.

      Consequently, she’d already sold half a dozen bouquets, devoured two cups of lemon and ginger tea and had a book full of deliveries scheduled before the brass bell above the door chimed, announcing the arrival of her assistant. Saffy wasn’t a big fan of mornings, so Evie was greeted with about as much enthusiasm as a vampire welcoming the dawn.

      ‘Morning, Saffy.’

      Evie was acknowledged with the usual dismissive wave of Saffy’s black-fingernailed hand as she passed through the shop front in search of caffeine.

      ‘Doesn’t the snow look gorgeous?’

      There was a loud bang from the kitchen.

      Apparently not.

      Saffy might only be nineteen, but she was way beyond her years in terms of life experience. Her dad had walked out when she was ten years old and her mum had bounced from one relationship to another looking for the happy ever after, never quite finding it. Determined not to follow in her mother’s footsteps, Saffy was currently holding down three part-time jobs. Her goal was to attend university and ensure financial self-sufficiency. No way was she going to rely on a man to support her. Evie felt tolerating Saffy’s moody persona was the least she could do. And besides, underneath the surly sarcasm was a complex, vulnerable girl. Others might be wary of her angsty exterior, but Evie wasn’t. The goth clothing, long black hair and dramatic eye make-up was a mask, a way of keeping people at arm’s length. Evie understood this more than most.

      Saffy appeared from the kitchen, her tattooed hands clasping a Minnie the Minx coffee mug. She leant against the wall, one booted foot crossed over the other, a scowl set firmly in place.

      ‘Sorry it’s so cold. The boiler’s playing up again.’ Evie rubbed her hands together, trying to restore blood flow. ‘I’ll get someone in as soon as possible.’

      Saffy shrugged. ‘No drama. I’d rather be here than at home watching Mum swoon over Barry the Banker.’

      Suffice to say, Saffy wasn’t the biggest fan of her mum’s latest beau.

      ‘How are the wedding plans coming along?’ Evie asked.

      A scowl darkened Saffy’s brow. ‘Don’t know. Don’t care.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘It’s not like it’ll last. Did I tell you he’s twelve years younger than she is?’

      Evie nodded. ‘Sometimes an age gap can be a good thing. You never know, maybe this time it’ll work.’

      Saffy snorted. ‘Don’t hold your breath.’

      When the doorbell СКАЧАТЬ