Page 74 of My Kind of Happy

‘You must love it,’ I pointed out. ‘Or you’d do something else.’

‘This is a family business, I’m the third generation. There’s no question of me doing anything else. My grandparents started wholesaling flowers with one small van seventy years ago. They’d drive from Wales to Covent Garden and back again in time for the shops to open. Completely different game now. I don’t know what my granddad would make of the giant flower markets in Holland. All computerised. Flowers arriving and leaving from all four corners of the globe. Big digital screens, people all over the world sending in their bids over the internet. Crazy.’

‘Snap!’ I grinned. ‘I’m also third generation. And my granny would be gobsmacked. She never even trusted mobile phones. Plus, guess what, she lived in Wales in a village called Llanidaeron. Had a stall on the market.’

‘Good grief! I know it!’ Victor laughed in disbelief. ‘Not Carrie and Evan? God rest their souls.’

I stared at him in surprise. ‘That’s them. My mother’s parents. Although I never met Granddad.’

‘I knew it,’ Victor punched the air. ‘I knew you had floristry in your blood.’

I hid a smile: a minute ago he’d said he could tell I was new to the business.

‘Fancy that!’ he said in wonder. ‘Well that changes everything. I will have that cup of tea.’

Twenty minutes later Victor and I had almost finished our drinks and discussed the needs of the shop. I’d explained the foray I was making into corporate business and he’d promised to make sure I got the pick of the blooms when I ordered. He’d shown me how to log on to his website, set me up with an account and my own log-in details.

‘You’ve got until two a.m. to place an order for the following day. And once an order is placed there’s no going back. And no credit either.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘Not that I don’t trust Carrie’s granddaughter but …’

‘I understand.’ I assured him. ‘I don’t expect special treatment.’

His eyes crinkled as he chuckled. ‘Good, because you won’t get it. Nice cuppa that.’

He drained his mug and set it down on the counter with an appreciative sigh. ‘Right. Better be off or my delphiniums will be drooping.’

He got to the door and turned around. ‘I will look after you though, love. Any problems, just ask. I’ve been in this game long enough to know the solution to most of them.’

‘Thanks, Victor,’ I said with a rush of warmth towards the gruff little man.

‘Oi!’ shouted a voice from outside. ‘You going to move this lorry sometime today, or what?’

‘Sorry mate!’ Victor replied with a wave of his hand, muttering under his breath, ‘bloody car drivers.’

I laughed. ‘Is there anyone you do like?’

Scamp stood up to see what was going on and his tail thumped against Victor’s leg.

‘Dogs.’ He winked on his way out. ‘And florists with dogs.’

‘That went surprisingly well.’ I crouched down and gave Scamp a cuddle. ‘Let’s hope the next one goes our way too.’

At two o’clock I left Scamp in the back of the shop where it was cool, with a bowl of water and one of Biddy’s special marrowbones, locked the doors and set off for my meeting with Wendy to discuss funeral flowers.

A. J. Mallet Funeral Directors was at the end of a run of shops on the outskirts of Chesterfield. It wasn’t the most attractive place: an unprepossessing flat-roofed seventies building on the outside, and inside, an excess of pine wooden panelling, with brown and yellow dog-toothed patterned carpet. The receptionist straightened up and greeted me with a warm smile as I entered.

‘Wendy is expecting you,’ she whispered reverently once I’d signed the visitor’s book. ‘Go straight through to her office.’

I followed her directions down a corridor to an open door, through which I saw Wendy, dressed in black, sitting at a desk. The office was a large airy room with polished wooden floorboards, white walls and tasteful modern artwork. The décor was a sharp contrast to the reception area. A small sofa and a couple of slouchy armchairs were set around a low coffee table at the opposite end to her desk. She slipped the reading glasses she was wearing onto the top of her head and stood to greet me. We settled into the armchairs.

‘I do appreciate you inviting me to come over,’ I said, smiling at her. ‘Especially after abandoning you at our new business event. I’m so sorry about that.’

She waved away my apology and unbuttoned her jacket. ‘As I said, our florist is experienced, but she’s very conservative. She’s never point blank refused to do something, but she has very fixed views on what she deems to be sacrilegious ceremonies and we’re getting more and more unusual requests all the time.’

I chewed my lip. ‘I must be honest, I’m not experienced at all. But I’m willing to learn.’

‘I appreciate your honesty,’ said Wendy with a soft laugh. ‘I can talk you through what our requirements are. Can I get you a drink?’

I asked for some water. No sooner had she poured us a glass each than an elderly golden retriever pattered casually into the room, tail wagging rhythmically and tongue hanging out.