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Thestranger beamed at her from across the restaurant table.Hehad spinach stuck between his front teeth.
Daisywas going to killMarion, she really was.Howhad she ended up in this gastropub on the outskirts ofChardwhen she could be at home glugging down wine andTomEllisinLucifer?
Marionhad ignored her request to have nothing to do with dating sites and had enrolled her in a local-ish one based inDorsetandSomerset.She’dshownDaisythe profile she’d written on her behalf.Daisyhad exclaimed in horror at the description of: ‘Florist.Earlythirties.Pretty.Lookingfor her evergreen romance’ and had vowed never to go on any blind date.EVER.
Thenshe’d flipped through some of the responses on the evening after she’d metRickfor lunch and, still smarting from his ‘my girlfriend doesn’t understand me’ comment, had found herself agreeing to meetBrett.Forty, in computer programming and divorced, he seemed fairly safe.Although, looking at him across the table now, as he waxed lyrical about the excellent pension plan he’d taken out, the profile picture he’d posted must be at least ten years old.
Daisytried hard not to prejudge as instructed byJan,MiaandMarionwho had ganged up on her and ordered her to meet him.She’dvaliantly tried to forgetBrettrhymed with wet and chastised herself for getting hung up on a name.And,Imean, comb-overs were okay, weren’t they?Brettactually had attractive eyes.Admittedlythey weren’t dark and sexy likeRick’sand were a watery pale blue, but he seemed nice.Abit desperate but nice.Besides, she reminded herself firmly,Rickwas very much taken and in a relationship with the fragrantly mintyMinty.
Theirmains finished,Brettbegan to tell her about his children.Three.Allgirls.Shebegan to warm to him slightly.Heobviously loved them very much.Asthe wine flowed, mostly into his glass, he began getting more and more loquacious.Overher gooey cherry and dark-chocolate pudding, she heard all about how well they were doing at school, how brilliantly the eldest played the violin, how much fun the twins were.Butby nowBrettwas getting very, very drunk.Andmorose.Heslouched over his uneaten lemon tart, his voice getting louder and louder, declaring his undying love for his children and his hatred of the wife who had left him.
Daisyhad had enough.Throwingdown enough money to cover her half of the meal – she certainly wasn’t going to pay for the expensive bottle of wine he’d ordered and drunk in its entirety – she had a quick word with the bar manager about arranging a taxi for her date and left.
Asshe drove home, she thought she might be able to fit in at least one episode ofLuciferand a couple of wines before hauling herself off to bed.Fromnow on, her romantic life would purely beNetflix-sourced.
Chapter Ten
July’s bouquet
Scarlet geraniums – Pelargonium spp.
I’m so sorry, stupidity, folly.
‘S
o, darling, what was your date like?’Marionasked, as she flounced into the shop the following morning and deposited her designer bag in the back room.
Daisyglared at her. ‘Donot speak to me.’
‘Oh, was it that bad,’ she said, emerging from the office and deflating. ‘Ihad high hopes forBrett.Hecame across as being lovely.’
‘I’msure he was before the wife he loved and who gave him three kids left him for a twenty-five-year-old graphic artist inBournemouth.Still,Ithink he enjoyed the bottle ofRiojahe sank.’
Marionperched on the edge of the stool by the counter and pulled a face. ‘Ohlordy, he didn’t get drunk, did he?’
‘Ohyes.Hegot drunk.Andoh lordy is right.Hewas as drunk as a lord.’Daisythrust the arrangement of cerise-pink gladioli at her. ‘Hegot drunk big time.Andthen he got morbid, a bit tearfuland then his nose disappeared into his pudding as his neck was unable to bear the weight of his head any longer.’
‘Whatdid you do?’
‘Icame home, what did you thinkIwas going to do?’
‘Itake it you’re not going to see him again then?’Thequestion was tentative.
Daisy’sglare was answer enough.
‘Ohwell, just notch it up to experience, sweetie.Lotsmore lovely men out there.’Thick-skinned as she was, evenMarionrecognised the hand gesture.
Daisystomped into the back room, flung herself down onto the comfy office chair and used a letter knife to openWalter’slatest request.Thesound of metal slicing through the paper was immensely satisfying but it did nothing to take the edge off her temper. ‘RuddyMarion,’ she muttered. ‘Ruddymatchmaking mother, ruddyMia.Buggerthem all.’
Openingthe instructions, she scanned its contents. ‘Scarletgeraniums,’ she read, disappointed. ‘That’snot very exotic,Walter.MaybeIcan jazz them up a bit?’Thinkingthrough her stock, the image of a bouquet of geraniums, some soft asparagus fern and the firebox-red alstroemerias which had just come in began to form. ‘IwishIknew where the flowers were ending up,’ she murmured. ‘Ifthey’re left at a gravesideIcould make it more robust and lasting but if they’re given to an actual living person,Icould concentrate on fragrance.Still, these are my orders andIam here to obey.’SheheardMarionwittering on to someone and went back into the shop to find her head-to-head withMiaand in deep discussion.
‘Thedate was a disaster and no,Ido not intend on going on another!’ she yelled.
Theheads of her employees shot up guiltily.
‘I’msorry it didn’t work out,’Miasaid. ‘Still, as my mum always says, plenty more fish in the sea.’
Marion’sface glowed. ‘Apps,’ she cried, flapping her shellacs. ‘Phoneapps.Isn’tthere one calledPlentyofFishor something?’Shepursed her perfectly made-up crimson lips. ‘Oris that the gay one?’
