Written in the Stars (16 page)

I think of something Dad once said to me when I first showed an interest in gardening. I must have only been about four and I was helping him plant the strawberry and tomato plants in our veg patch.

You don’t become a gardener, Bea; you’re born one.

This is who I am and the sooner I accept that the better.

I feel something inside me stir, a long-forgotten feeling of certainty. I look up and see that I’ve stopped in front of a florist’s on Greenwich Church Street. It’s a slim, Victorian, red-brick building, unpainted, unlike many of the other shops, and I’m surprised that I’ve never noticed it before. But it has a pretty blue awning, and old-fashioned lead windows that have little glass baubles suspended from pieces of invisible thread in an arc. Each one has a single orchid inside, cut up to the petals and together they look like the path of a shooting star. Outside there are wrought-iron tables covered with pots of pretty sweet peas and lilac, small wooden stepladders displaying buckets of glorious hydrangeas, fat pink peonies and delicate roses, as well as vintage crates filled with shrubs and flowering plants. Above the awning is a sign with ‘Cosmos Flowers’ painted in pink lettering and surrounded by silver stars. I’ve seen that logo before somewhere. I think for a moment – it was on my wedding day! My bouquet and the buttonholes Milly picked up came in a crate with that painted on the side – but I’ve definitely never been to this shop before. It must have opened recently.

The door is open and I wander in, gasping at the delightful space with exposed brickwork and a ceiling hung with star jasmine and fairy lights that glimmer and twinkle in the space. I find myself drawn to the shop in the same way that I have always been drawn to gardens.

‘Can I help you?’ A girl comes to the counter from the back of the shop. She’s wearing green gardening gloves and carrying a bouquet of peonies in a bucket. She’s the definition of the word blooming: her face is blushed pink like a rose, her eyes are a stark delphinium blue against the thick black of her mascara, her hair is bleached the colour of daffodils and is scraped up into a bun as plump as the peonies she’s holding, whilst tendrils fall around her face like catkins. She is stalk thin too, yet, when she steps out from behind the counter, a budding pregnant belly appears. She looks down at it and then back at me, her mouth curled into a rueful smile.

‘I know it looks like I’ve just stuck a sodding football up there but I promise you it’s a real baby. You wouldn’t believe how many people said to me that I’d get some proper boobs now I’m up the duff!’ She looks down dejectedly. ‘So far, nada. Just
massive
nipples.’ She gasps and flings her hand over her mouth. ‘Too much information, right?’

I laugh and wrinkle my nose as I nod.

‘Sorry,’ she groans. ‘This pregnancy has given me TMI Tourette’s. I’ll be telling you about my piles next!’ I cough awkwardly and look around. That really
is
TMI.

‘
Anyways
,’ she says, without a hint of embarrassment, ‘what can I do for you? I’m Sal, by the way.’ She points at a badge on her chest and smiles.

‘Bea,’ I reply. ‘Bea Bishop. Pleased to meet you.’

I glance around in delight. The shop smells so wonderful, of endless summer days and just . . . greenness. Permeating the air is the distinctive smell of hydrangeas and peonies and the intoxicating scent of sweet peas, roses and lavender.

I realise that I came in not intending to buy anything but now I’m here I want to get a gift for Milly to thank her for everything she’s done for me.

‘I’d like a bouquet of flowers, please.’

‘I’d gathered that much,’ she grins. ‘Is it for a friend or a boyfriend?’

‘My best friend,’ I reply. ‘She’s been really good to me recently. I’ve moved in with her temporarily while I’m job-hunting.’

‘Price range?’

‘For my job?’ I’m a bit taken aback. It’s a personal question from someone I’ve just met. But she does seem very upfront.

‘No! The bouquet!’ Sal throws her head back and laughs.

‘Oh, sorry, of course! Um, not too much, given I’ve just jacked in my job so . . . I don’t know, £30?’

‘OK, we should be able to do something lovely for that,’ she says, clapping her hands and then resting them on her baby bump. ‘If it’s for a friend maybe you could start with a couple of stems of—’

‘Actually I already know what I want!’ I interrupt. ‘Can I have some gladioli, please, and some purple irises and ooh a couple of these king protea?’ Sal starts pulling out the stems and collects them in her hands as I direct her. ‘If you could trim them, add some nice greenery, and maybe surround the protea with some softer flowers, that would be great.’ I point at a bucket of long-stemmed flowers. ‘These alstroemeria would be perfect.’

‘Wow, you do know what you want!’ Sal says admiringly as she plucks stems from buckets.

I laugh at the irony of what she’s just said. ‘Trust me, you’re the first person who’s ever said that to me.’

‘You said you’d just left your job, right?’ she asks, glancing back at me over her shoulder. ‘What did you do?’

‘Oh, I was just a temp,’ I reply, embarrassed.

‘And you left because . . .?’

‘I want to do something I love,’ I say with a newfound assurance. ‘I’m thinking about going back to university to study garden design,’ I add shyly, marvelling how saying it out loud makes it feel more real. ‘I started a Garden Design degree years ago but unfortunately I left before the final year . . .’ I trail off, not wanting to go into detail about why.

‘I thought you seemed more knowledgeable than our average customer!’ Sal exclaims, snapping her fingers and pointing at me.

I shrug modestly. ‘I’m not
that
knowledgeable, I just know my best friend. And you should always choose bouquets that most closely represent the person you’re giving them to, don’t you think?’ Sal nods emphatically. ‘And gladioli shows strength of character and faithfulness and that just sums Milly up. King protea,’ I continue, ‘because it represents courage and resourcefulness. And alstroemeria signifies friendship.’

Sal stares at me for a moment and then frowns. She folds her arms over her bump and studies me. ‘Are you one of those mystery shoppers?’

I laugh and shake my head.

She goes behind the counter and gets her scissors, still studying me suspiciously as she begins to arrange the flowers I’ve chosen.

‘So are you local? I’ve not seen you here before . . .’

‘No, well, yes, well not really,’ I stammer. ‘I mean, I used to live in Greenwich, years ago . . . and I’ve, well, I’ve moved back recently. I’m not sure how long for though . . . maybe forever, maybe not.’

‘Not so decisive now,’ Sal grins, deftly stripping off leaves. She pauses and looks at the bouquet before her. ‘I’m going to add some eucalyptus to give the bouquet some extra girth.’ She looks up at me and winks. ‘And for you, there’s no extra charge.’ She grabs a generous amount and then begins winding twine around the bottom of the bouquet. ‘That’ll be £30, please,’ she says, handing it to me.

‘That looks amazing – thank you!’ I exclaim, taking the flowers. I hand her the cash, feeling an unfamiliar sickness that comes with spending money now I don’t have an income. Or Adam.

‘Well, bye,’ I say, feeling strangely sad to leave the shop.

‘Hang on, Bea!’ she calls out.

I turn back. ‘Yes?’

‘You don’t fancy a cuppa, do you?’ she says, a hint of desperation in her voice. ‘It’s very quiet today and well, this may sound a bit freaky-stalkerish and I totally understand if you want to leg it from the heavily pregnant, oversharing flower-shop owner, but I have a little job proposition for you, if you’re interested . . .’

Chapter 22

I walk – no, I practically skip – to Milly’s, feeling like life has just handed me a big unexpected chance – as surprising and beautiful as any bouquet of flowers.

‘I need someone to help me out part-time until I have this baby, and then cover the management position full-time while I’m on maternity leave,’ Sal had explained when we’d settled down with our tea in the shop’s little back courtyard. I couldn’t believe it when she told me that she’s not just having a baby on her own – apparently she split from the father of her baby because he didn’t want her to have it – but she’s running her own business too. I’m utterly in awe of her. ‘I was just wondering if, well, if you’d like to do it while you’re waiting to start your garden design course? I’m desperate to hire someone but no one has had quite the right skills and then you came in and, well, it sounds crazy, but it feels like fate!’

It
did
sound crazy and I wouldn’t have believed it if it hadn’t just happened but, as I walk up the hill soaking up the delicate peachy-lemon late-afternoon sunshine, smiling at the pink and white blossom billowing in the summer breeze on the edge of Greenwich Park, my arms are filled with flowers and my thoughts are too. I’d tried to tell Sal that I wasn’t qualified to do the job and that I didn’t have any sort of certificate in floristry, or any training, but she’d just laughed.

‘Bea, you’ve proved you know more about flowers in the last five minutes than most people that have worked here did in months! Besides, you don’t need qualifications – I took on this failing business a year ago after doing loads of dead-end jobs. I had a bit of help from my dad to start with for the lease, but I’ve turned it around alone.’ She’d stuck her chin in the air defiantly. ‘None of my teachers seemed to see any potential in me, but just because I wasn’t good at school didn’t mean I wouldn’t be good in business, so I trusted my instincts and proved them wrong. I’ve always been a people person and I’ve learned that in this trade all you need to do is to listen to and empathise with people.’

I shake my head and smile as I think about how she’d hugged me when I said yes to her proposition.
I have a job! And not just any job, a job that I’m actually going to enjoy! I can’t WAIT to tell Milly!

I also decide that it’s time to start looking for somewhere of my own to live. The flower shop won’t be paying much but I can always get an evening bar job or something. Meeting Sal has made me realise that I need to be independent. Loni was bringing up two kids alone by the time she was my age and Sal is embracing impending single parenthood without fear. I’m thirty – and I’ve been afraid of life for too long.

Sal and I had told each other our potted histories over the course of the afternoon – Sal popping in and out of the shop to serve customers in between me telling her my runaway-bride story. I even told her about Kieran. I don’t know why but it was refreshing to say his name, to tell someone about him.

‘Holy shit,’ she said. ‘It’s so fucking romantic! I mean, your long-lost lover comes back to declare his undying love on your wedding day?’ She sniffed and gazed down at her belly. ‘The most romantic thing my ex ever did was offer to wear a condom, and he couldn’t even get that right!’ She grinned then, revealing dimples that reminded me just how young she was.

‘So are you still in love with him?’ she asked, taking a sip of tea.

I paused before shaking my head.

‘Ahhh! You had to think about it then, didn’t you! That means you think you might be. God, imagine getting back with your first love all these years later! Was he hot?’

I laughed and nodded.

‘Is he still?’

I bit my lip shyly then nodded again.

‘No middle-age spread or moustache, no grey hair, or worse, hair loss?’

I laughed again. ‘No, I mean he definitely looked older, but it suited him . . .’

‘Oh my God, you’ve totally thought about this, haven’t you?’

I grinned, buoyed by her girlish enthusiasm. ‘Only a teensy bit . . .’ I admitted, holding my thumb and forefinger up.

After Sal had imagined a whole new future for me as Mrs Kieran Blake, she told me about the baby’s dad, her ‘sodding
useless
ex’ (her words). ‘He’s not mature enough to deal with it, so good riddance to him. I’m going to make sure this baby has everything it needs. Besides,’ she continued, ‘I’ve got my dad to help me. He’ll be a better male role model than my ex could ever be. He brought me up alone, so he knows what it’s like.’

I’m still thinking about my chance meeting with Sal and the opportunity it has given me to take my life in a different direction as I unlock Milly’s front door.

I look at the spare key she gave me and as I pull it out of the lock I make a decision.

I’m going to give Milly these flowers tonight, thank her and Jay enormously for putting up with me these past few weeks and then I’ll tell her I’m moving out. I don’t want to outstay my welcome when they’ve both been so kind. Like Sal I’m going to trust my instincts – and trust that fate will find me something quickly.

Chapter 23

‘So, I actually have some news . . .’ I say later that evening over dinner.

‘Oh, that’s funny, so do we.’ Milly’s eyes dart across to Jay who instinctively slides off his bar stool and takes his half-full plate over to the dishwasher.

‘I’ll . . . er . . .’ he says, looking mildly panicked. A text message comes through on his phone. ‘I’ll just get this!’ Relieved, he swiftly exits the room.

Adam, I presume.

‘Shall I go first?’ Milly and I say at the same time. We laugh awkwardly, unable to look at each other.

‘Let me go first, I’ve been desperate to tell you this for ages,’ Milly pleads. Calm, composed Milly looks uncharacteristically emotional. ‘I’m . . . well, we’re, that is, me and Jay . . .’

I smile. I’m sure she’s going to tell me they’re having a baby and I’m so happy for her. I am. I’ve just had this sense that she might be pregnant, I know she and Jay were talking about having a baby and things always happen quickly for Milly.

‘I’m really happy for you, Mills,’ I say brightly but she looks at me in confusion.

‘I haven’t told you my news yet!’ she exclaims. ‘The thing is, well, we’re . . . moving to New York!’

‘WHAT?’ I stare at her, completely shell-shocked at this unexpected news.

Milly has always had her life planned meticulously. She doesn’t like surprises, never has done. She’s always plotted out her life perfectly. Marriage at twenty-seven, first baby at thirty-one, second at thirty-three. Retirement at fifty. I feel like the ground has been shaken beneath my feet. What will I do without Milly? I know I want to be independent, but I still need her. Especially now I’ve left Adam. How will I cope without
either
of my rocks?