Page 37 of My Kind of Happy

Chapter Twelve

Apart from popping outside to take Scamp for a comfort break, Nina and I stayed busy until lunchtime. There weren’t many customers, which Nina said was normal for a Monday, so after brie and cranberry paninis bought from the café next door (her treat as it was my first day), I concentrated on the two telephone orders we’d received, with Nina looking over my shoulder and making suggestions.

Fiona at the flower school had let us take as long as we needed to create each arrangement, allowing us to start from scratch with a howl of dismay every time something went wrong. Working in a commercial environment was a whole different kettle of fish; the labour cost had to be incorporated into the price of every bouquet. Nina worked on thirty per cent labour, thirty per cent flowers, the rest taken up with the fixed costs of running the shop and presumably with a bit left over for profit. But I was so slow that the bouquet ordered by the vicar had probably cost Nina more than he was paying us for it.

‘That’ll have to do,’ said my boss, sitting on her hands to stop herself from interfering.

I held the flowers at arms’ length and examined it. ‘This one at the back is still facing the wrong way. I’ll just move it.’

‘Nope.’ Nina shook her head sternly. ‘Finish with a ribbon, add the card and stick it in the back, ready for delivery later on.’

‘Fair enough.’ I suppressed a sigh and tied some raffia around the bouquet of lilies, gerberas and spray roses and apologised for my lack of speed.

‘You’ll get faster,’ she said, generously, adding when she thought I was out of earshot, ‘I hope.’

By four o’clock, Nina had been out in the van and done the deliveries, I’d cleaned the kitchenette, swept the floors and was now topping up the water in the buckets in the window. Outside the shop, people were milling about again in the late afternoon sunshine and the tables under the awning of the café had filled up with groups of parents sipping mugs of tea and children tucking into smoothies and slabs of cake.

Nina joined me in the window and yawned. ‘Sorry. Early start to the flower market.’

‘I thought you had your flowers delivered from Holland?’ I frowned. The late delivery of wedding flowers had been the reason I’d found Nina in floods of tears that day, and ultimately, the reason why I was now working for her.

Nina scratched her nose. ‘I did. Do. But, well, we sort of fell out.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ I said indignantly. ‘Suppliers should have contingency plans for logistical problems, not simply turn up late.’

‘Hmm,’ said Nina reticently. ‘Anyway, I’ll be making market trips for the next couple of weeks.’

‘I’d love to come one day.’ Fiona’s talk about the giant flower auctions in Holland had made all of us students want to visit.

‘It is fun,’ she said, smiling broadly as the door opened and a man came in, before continuing, ‘choosing exactly the right flowers for your customers from the millions on offer from the wholesalers is heavenly.’

‘And talking of heavenly …’ said the man, who looked as if he’d stepped directly out of a Noël Coward play. He held out his hand to me so daintily that I wondered whether to shake it or kiss it. ‘… I’m Lucas from the Heavenly Gift shop, next door but one. And you must be the fairy godmother Nina told me about, who stepped into the breach on our darling Rosie’s wedding day?’

‘Not sure Nina still thinks that way, given my snail’s pace work speed, but I’m Fearne.’ I shook his hand, instantly warming to him.

‘Oh the delicate fern,’ he said, clasping his hands to his chest. ‘Frilly-edged, unfurling in spring like seahorses, hiding their feathery fronds in the patches of summer shade, flowerless foliage whose beauty dazzles even the hardest of hearts.’

‘Gosh,’ I said taken aback. ‘How poetic!’

Nina snorted. ‘Please excuse my friend,’ she said, giving him a swift hug. ‘He’s prone to be over-romantic.’

I’d looked into the gift shop window earlier and thought how beautifully put together all the displays were. Meeting the owner explained it all; Lucas was the epitome of sartorial elegance, from the triangular tip of his handkerchief poking out of his jacket pocket to the shiny toes of his polished brogues below ankle grazer chinos.

‘Someone needs to be,’ he said pointedly. ‘And who’s this handsome fellow?’

‘Scamp,’ I said watching as my shameless dog flipped onto his back and presented his pink tummy for approval. ‘Most important man in my life.’

‘Oh dear,’ Lucas pursed his lips. ‘Not another single lady in need of Uncle Lucas’s dating advice?’

I shook my head firmly. ‘I’m focusing on myself for a while, doing what makes me happy. A boyfriend would only get in the way of that.’

‘Ooh, a challenge,’ he said, smiling with mischief. He eyed me from top to toe. ‘Well at least we’ve got good material to work with. Excellent hair, sparkling green eyes, beguiling smile. And an irresistible pooch is always a bonus. Shows you don’t shy away from commitment.’

‘Lucas is my go-to dating guru,’ Nina explained. ‘When I’ve got a date, he helps me pick out outfits, advises on menu choices and gives me conversational starters in case of awkward silences. Not that I have many dates, and I am still single.’

‘But maybe not for long,’ said Lucas, with a cheeky wink. ‘It was me who suggested Nina should go on—’

‘Tinder,’ said Nina loudly, making him jump. She folded her arms. ‘I’m on Tinder, which is about as depressing as it gets for a thirty-six-year-old whose entire friendship group is coupled up. Just as well you don’t want to meet someone, Fearne, because being a florist is the worst occupation for meeting a potential partner.’