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‘Yes.’Rickheaved a deep breath. ‘Mumwent after a quick illness.It’sthe one consolation we all have.Thatshe didn’t suffer too much.Iknow seventy-five isn’tyoung but it doesn’t seem all that old either.’Hegestured wearily towards the garden. ‘Notwhen she had all this to enjoy.Thatand her grandchildren too.’
‘You’vegot children?’Daisyasked, startled.SomehowMintyhadn’t looked the maternal type.
Rickgave a short laugh. ‘Notme.Notyet.Mysisters have all got one each.Keepsthem busy.’
‘Ohyes,Iremember you mentioned them once.’
‘Annie, that’s the eldest.ThenDi, thenIzzyand then me.Onlyboy and the youngest.’
‘Andspoiled rotten,’Daisysaid fondly.
‘Yeah.’Rickmade a face. ‘Probably.Withthem having young children it’s difficult for them to get down here to seeDadsoI’vedone the bulk of it.’Hepaused. ‘Andthere were other attractions in the area for me.’
‘Settingup the restaurant.’
Hegave her an oblique look. ‘Thatwas part of it.’
‘Wehad a letter from aMrHamiltonsent to the shop.Askingfor flowers to be delivered here fromMayuntilOctober.Noreason.Andthere was never anyone here wheneverIbrought them over.It’scaused quite a stir amongst us all.’Thatwas putting it mildly.They’dbuilt it up to be a mystery it quite clearly wasn’t.
‘Dadbecame ill and had to go into a nursing home soon afterMum’sdeath.Theywere devoted to one another, and it hit him hard.Theflowers idea had been cooked up between him andMumbefore she died and he was determined to see it through.Onlythenhebecame ill.That’swhy he couldn’t be here to receive the flowers.Hewas desperate to have some flowers taken to the grave so got me to help him set it all up.Hegot a bit obsessed with having his orders followed exactly soIbegan calling in here to collect the flowers, check they were the ones he’d ordered, and then take them over to the cemetery.I’dtake a photo to show him and it seemed to soothe him.’
Rickfaltered, on the edge of giving in to his own grief. ‘Isuppose it was his way of trying to get through the first stages of grieving forMum.Whenhe fell ill it turned out he needed more care than any of us were in a position to provide so a nursing home seemed the best solution.Hewon’t be there forever, just until he feels strong enough to come home.And, at least, when he does,I’llbe living here too.It’sthe ideal base for me to launch the restaurant.Poppingin once a month was a good excuse to keep an eye on the place too, start his car so the battery didn’t go flat, mow the lawn, that sort of thing.Whydid you want to call the police on me?’
Daisywas still processing all the informationRickhad given her and was startled by the abrupt question. ‘What?’
‘Whenyou came at me with the ornamental tiling thing you said you’d called the police.’
‘Ohsorry.Ihadn’t.Iwas just bluffing.There’sbeen a spate of thefts in the area.Leadfrom the church roof, that kind of thing.Ithought you were the culprit.’
‘I’mnot the lead-stealing type.’Itwas said with a glimmer of humour.
‘No, of course you’re not.It’sjust there’s been reports of some blokes in a whiteTransitlooking shifty andIthought they were here.’
‘Andyou were ready to tackle a criminal all on your own?Bitdaft,Daisy.Icould’ve turned violent.’
‘Yeah,Isuppose it was.I’vegrown very fond of this house over the past few months.’Sheblushed. ‘I’dhate anything to happen to it whileWalterwas away.I’vegrown rather fond of him too.’
‘Thatwas amazingly brave.’Hefixed her with a burning look.
Thewords madeDaisyfeel hot.Acharged pulse passed between them.
‘Onething that’s really puzzling me.Whydid you think it was aWalterwho was the customer?’
Daisyblushed. ‘Wegot a bit carried away in the shop with the romance of it all.WethoughtWalterwas possibly a grieving widower.’
‘Definitelya grieving widower involved but notWalter.Whatmade you decide on that name?’
‘Theletter was signed by aMrWHamilton.Wedecided onWalterand it stuck.Sothis becameWalter’shouse, andIdeliveredWalter’sflowers here.’Itwas sounding more daft the moreDaisyexplained.
‘TheMrWHamiltonis me andI’mdefinitely not aWalter.Noteven in the slightest.’
‘Butyou’reRick,’Daisysaid stupidly.
‘Rickfor short.Myreal name isWarwick.’Hislips twisted. ‘I’venever liked it, to be honest.Iwas named after a great-uncle.’Herubbed a tired hand over his face. ‘Notsure whyIsigned myself off with aWthat day.Griefand stress telling,Ishould imagine.’
Rickwas reallyWarwick.Nota manly strongRichardbut a town in theMidlands.Daisyrolled the thought around.Didshe care?Toher amazement she didn’t in the slightest.Herfeelings forRicktrumped any daft prejudice over what he was called. ‘Atleast it’s notWarren,’ and, too late, realised she’d said it out loud.
‘Warren?’Hescowled. ‘That’sa rabbit’s name.’
