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“I wasn’t sure if you’d want one, Flora. My mother never ate the bun. She avoided carbs.”
Flora redirected her hand to the burger and salad and served herself. “I don’t eat the bun, either.” Her stomach argued loudly with her decision. Her brain argued, too, although a little more quietly. Was she really going to do this? Was she going to change her habits to please this girl? Yes, she was. She could hear Julia’s voice in her head, telling her to be more assertive, but there was no point in being assertive if it destroyed all chances of developing a relationship. It was just one burger bun, that was all, and it wouldn’t hurt her to skip the carbs.
Molly took a bite of burger, complete with toasted bun. “Are we having ice cream after?”
“We were, but you drank all that sugary lemonade so now we’re having fruit.” Izzy served herself, leaving Flora to deal with the full force of Molly’s disappointment.
She was the killer of ice cream moments. The death of comfort.
Meanwhile, Izzy was cool and composed.
Flora studied her, trying to work out which emotions were bubbling beneath the composure. Resentment? Misery? Nothing was on show. And then she saw Izzy’s hand tremble as she put a plate in front of her and realized she was nervous.
Instantly Flora’s own nerves fell away. She wanted to say something to indicate that she was a friend, not a foe. She wanted to say that she probably understood at least some of what Izzy was feeling.
She glanced at Jack to see if he’d picked up the tension in his daughter, but if he had there was no sign of it. He was tucking into his burger and was focused on Molly, listening as she talked a little about her day.
“Marcy is having a sleepover for her birthday, but I don’t want to go.”
Jack helped himself to more salad. “You don’t think it would be fun? You love Marcy.”
Molly picked at her burger. “I want to stay home.”
Flora felt a rush of sympathy. She remembered all too well those feelings of insecurity that had tied her to the house.
Jack frowned. “But—”
“—she doesn’t have to go if she doesn’t want to.” Izzy ate daintily. “She can have Marcy over here the day after or something. We’ll make cakes. Don’t pick the lettuce out of your burger, Moll.”
Molly poked the lettuce back inside her burger and took a martyred bite. “It tastes like grass.”
“You’ve never eaten grass.” Izzy’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled at her sister. Then she turned her attention back to Flora and the smile vanished as abruptly as lights in a power cut. “So, Flora, my dad says you’re a florist.” She was almost ridiculously formal, ticking off suitable conversational topics from a mental list.
Flora persevered. “Yes. I think my love of flowers came from my mother. She was a florist, too, and very talented. There was no plant or flower she couldn’t recognize.” She hesitated. “I lost my mother when I was about the same age as Molly.”
Molly reached for the ketchup. “Where did you lose her?”
“I mean—she died.”
Izzy froze for a microsecond and Molly squirted ketchup on the table.
Mistake, Flora thought in a panic. Big, big mistake.
Molly’s eyes were huge and shiny with tears. “Our mom died.”
Izzy threw her napkin over the ketchup, sent Flora a furious look and put her arm around her sister. “It’s okay, bunny. I’m here.”
Flora felt sick. What had she done? It had all been going so well and now she’d blown it. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.” Why, oh why, hadn’t she stayed silent? She didn’t even like talking about her own experiences. Instead of reassuring them, she’d left them feeling sad, threatened and anxious. And now they were bonded together against her.
Jack’s gaze was fixed on Molly, and Flora could feel his helplessness, and his fierce determination to protect his daughters.
She hadn’t made things better, she’d made them a thousand times worse.
“Come here.” He scooped his younger daughter onto his lap and pulled her plate closer to his. Molly leaned into him, her head on his shoulder, strands of her hair clinging to his shirt.
“I miss Mommy.” She crawled onto him, clinging with arms and legs, weighed down by sadness.
“I know. We all do, and that’s okay.” He held her with one arm and stroked her leg with the other. “But we have each other and we are going to stick together like all the ingredients in this yummy burger your sister just made.”
