Alex Hines - Chance

‘At least your work has been in the papers,’ was her ever-pragmatic younger sister Lauren’s response. ‘Other florists would kill for that kind of exposure.’ Ava was convinced Lauren herself would probably be first in the queue, but still wondered if her fee for the work could ever make up for the body blow that seeing those pictures had provided. And then came the second punch: later that very same day Ava received an email from a woman in which she explained that she had been having a six-month affair with Mick, the darkly handsome but elusive and unreliable boyfriend with whom Ava had just spent the last three years of her life. Already living together, they had been saving to buy a property while making do in a tiny one-bedroom in East London, above a bone-shaking noisy main road. Devastated by the way her dreams of urbane adulthood had panned out, Ava decided to leave London for a year and spend some time in the area where she had grown up in, trying to decide her next move. Initially concerned months spent within ‘popping by for a quick cup of tea’ distance of both her parents and Lauren would leave her suffering a nasty dose of claustrophobia, Ava soon realised the opposite had happened. Now she breathed a deep sigh of relief at being away from the capital’s eternal hamster wheel of marriage-career-babies, even if those possibilities still preoccupied her mother. Slowly, the pain of soured romance faded, as did the stress of working for her dictatorial former boss, Nigel, Bespoke Florist to the Stars. Of course she missed some of her friends and occasionally daydreamed about walks along the river or shopping in department stores with proper cosmetics departments but largely, she realised, she was not a Londoner.

When that first year of working at the charming little garden centre in the grounds of a local stately home ended, she knew she couldn’t go back to her old life. Instead, she chose to invest her savings in buying a small place in Salisbury and setting up a business of her own. If the ‘finding eternal love’ column on her life plan was to take a little longer than planned, she was damned if she would waste time on the ‘enjoy your work, and be the very best at it’ column. Thus, Dunne’s of Salisbury, her pride and joy, was born and quickly became a fixture in the market town. Ava soon found she was far more quickly integrated into the local community than she had ever been in London, where the idea of borrowing a cup of sugar always remained a faintly ridiculous fantasy. So what if life was quieter, less glamorous and or dramatic in Salisbury? It was the path she had chosen and what would make her happy. Just like Robin, with whom she had now been for five years. Lovely dependable Rob – he would never let her down, of that she was sure.

Ava’s two cups of tea had hit the spot by the time she followed Matt outside with the large wooden A-board. It had ‘Dunne’s’ written across the top of it, in the classic typeface she had chosen five years ago and still loved as much today. The bottom half was blackboard, upon which Ava leant forward to write ‘Peonies – 6 for £5’, and beneath that ‘Rosemary – £6’ in her wide loopy font. After brushing the white chalk off her fingertips, she stood back to check her handwriting and then admired the pavement display.

‘Looking lovely,’ she told Matt, who was just tweaking some of the last bunches to make sure none were squashed too tightly together. Ava stooped and rubbed a stem of young, oily rosemary between her fingers. She held one hand to her nose and inhaled the fresh scent of clothes and roast dinners.

‘As are you, boss,’ replied Matt, with a cheeky wink. He held the door open for her and as it closed behind them both, she turned the ‘closed’ shop sign over. As the beeps of the 9 o’clock news began on the radio, Ava rested one hand against the sign hanging on her glass door. Open . Smiling to herself, she headed back to her desk.

She hadn’t even reached it before the bell on the door tinkled, announcing the first customer of the day. But it wasn’t immediately clear who it was for they appeared to be entering backwards. It took a moment and a commanding ‘EDMUND!’ before Ava realised that it was a woman reversing a double buggy into the shop. Readying herself for the potential chaos, she brushed a stray hair away from her face. Matt immediately left the worktop of foliage he had been separating and went to help the customer. As she swung the buggy round, a ruddy-cheeked toddler leant out of his seat towards the brightly coloured strands hanging from reels of twine fixed to the wall. He was wearing a pair of bright blue trousers and a rugby shirt that would have fitted one of Ava’s childhood teddies. His hair was soft, with a hint of a curl, and his dimpled cheeks and knuckles gave the impression that he was made entirely from uncooked pastry dough. His sister was asleep in the other seat, wearing a huge overcoat. Her legs, in a pair of bright pink tights with patent leather shoes on the end, were limp; her head was thrown back and she was drooling.

Their mother had the kind of haughty glamour only gained by living in the countryside in a house so big you don’t always know who is in it. Almost impossibly thin for someone with such young children, she had long dark, slightly wavy hair, falling around a face that was horsey and beautiful in equal measure. She too was wearing a rugby shirt, only hers was clearly a women’s cut – deep pink, with a pale pink collar. On her feet were flat Converse All-Star Plimsolls but even so, she was as tall as Matt. Entranced by the twine, little Edmund clambered out of his seat and toddled off, causing the entire buggy to lurch forward. Dangling from the handles were an enormous Mulberry handbag and several carrier bags of groceries from the wildly over-priced delicatessen across the square, their weight clearly greater than that of the sleeping youngster now jolted from her sleep. All three adults leapt to support the buggy as organic baby food and Dorset Knobs tumbled. The child woke with a start, looked around her and then settled back down again once the buggy was secured.

‘Hiiiiii,’ the woman said, lifting her chin. ‘I need some flowers.’ Ava wondered why else she might have come in, but smiled patiently. Meanwhile, Matt busied himself back at the worktop.

‘Great,’ said Ava, brushing her hands on her jeans in readiness. ‘What are you after?’

‘Dinner party, this weekend, but I’ll need them delivered – there just isn’t going to be time.’

‘That’s fine, we do local deliveries.’

The woman seemed neither surprised nor grateful, apparently used to living in a world where she knew she would get her own way, on account of knowing she could afford to.

‘Super. Well, we need a couple of large arrangements for the table …’

‘The dinner table?’

‘Yah. Like, centrepieces.’

From the corner of one eye Ava spotted the reels of twine spinning wildly as Edmund turned round and round, wrapping himself in coloured strands. She tried not to wince. What good would that do?

‘Okay.’

‘And then, I want, like, something romantic. Something that looks as if, like …’ the woman paused, a flash of uncertainty crossing her face for the first time.

‘Yes?’ Ava continued to concentrate on focusing on the customer, not her son. ‘Well, something that will seem …’ Gazing heavenwards, she held her hands out in front of her, thinking. It was impossible for Ava not to notice her stunning engagement ring. A huge diamond, surrounded entirely by several other tiny diamonds, it was breathtakingly beautiful. Ava imagined her husband choosing it for her. Someone, somewhere, adored this woman enough to pick out a fabulous piece like that for her. To him, she was adorable, not formidable or brittle as she seemed today.