Tracy Corbett - The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop - The feel-good romantic comedy to read in 2018

Anita nodded, sipping delicately at her wine. Unlike Laura, who’d downed her glass in two large gulps.

Laura carried the dresses through to the changing room. ‘Give me a shout when you need zipping up.’

Whilst she waited for Anita to change, Laura picked up the bouquet of flowers Martin had sent her for her birthday and carried them through to the kitchen. The primroses had lasted well, but the cut irises were wilting, bending low as if hanging their heads in shame. The petals were dry and withering, sapped of life and vibrancy. Kind of how she felt about her marriage.

Anita called out from the other room. ‘I’m ready.’

Dumping the flowers in the bin, Laura returned to her bride.

She found Anita wearing the retro dress, the ivory colouring a perfect complement to her skin tone. The woman stared at herself in the mirror, swishing one way and then the other, enchanted by the movement of the petticoats around her legs.

Laura fastened the zip, the nipped-in waistline enhancing the woman’s trim figure. ‘You look beautiful.’

Anita smiled self-consciously. ‘I do, don’t I?’

Laura nodded. ‘It’s perfect for you.’

A quick glance at the price tag, followed by a biting of the lower lip, preceded Anita announcing, ‘Sod the cost. I have to have it.’

Laura smiled. Things might not be great at home, but she was a frigging genius when it came to selling wedding dresses.

Throwing his phone onto the bed in annoyance, Scott closed the bedroom door. He needed a moment to compose himself. Oshma’s back was playing up again. He wasn’t angry with her – it wasn’t her fault she had a dodgy disc – but it meant he’d have to rearrange his diary so he could look after Billie. Another day without income wasn’t a welcome prospect. He was struggling with the bills as it was. He rubbed his forehead, trying to dilute the frustration. He had two call-outs booked, both needing urgent attention. Cancelling was bound to send them elsewhere, losing him much-needed custom. But it wasn’t his mum’s fault. She needed him. He’d just have to suck it up.

Having sent apologetic texts to his customers, Scott masked his annoyance and went to tend to Billie. He found her in the kitchen being spoon-fed porridge by her attentive grandson. Her right arm was usually strong enough to grip a spoon, enabling her to feed herself, but some days her muscles were troubled by a weakness that rendered her virtually paralysed. Today was one of those days. It broke his heart to see her struggling.

Knowing she wouldn’t appreciate a fuss, Scott clapped his hands together. ‘Breaking news, guys. Oshma won’t be in today so you have me running the show.’ He planted a kiss on his mum’s cheek. ‘Lucky you, eh?’

The right side of her face creased into a frown, a questioning look in her eyes.

‘Her back is bad. She’s booked in to see the physio later. Hopefully she’ll be here tomorrow.’ Scott squeezed his mum’s shoulder, overriding any attempt to insist he go to work. ‘I didn’t have anything important booked for today. It’s no big deal to stay home.’

He doubted his mum bought his lie. Billie Castillo might have lost all manner of functions, but she hadn’t lost her radar for bullshit.

When a dollop of porridge landed on Billie’s dressing gown, Scott handed Ben a paper towel. ‘Besides, social services are visiting today to do an assessment. It’s best I’m around.’

Scott hated official visits. Not because he had anything to hide, but because the way they inspected everything, assessing his abilities to meet his mother’s care needs, always made him feel substandard. It was like being back at school when his English teacher used to humiliate him in front of the class because he refused to take notes. The woman had never grasped that he wasn’t being deliberately challenging, he just struggled to write things down. He hadn’t enjoyed being dumb. He’d much rather have been a smart-arse like his sister, but the genetics hadn’t worked out that way.

Scott made himself a coffee. ‘I thought you were on a study day?’ He tried to give Ben his best parental look, popping a slice of bread in the toaster.

‘I am.’ Ben held the straw to Billie’s lips so she could sip her tea. ‘I was up early. I’m on my first official break.’ He grinned at his gran. ‘Nanny and I are going to watch The Bourne Identity and discuss the merits of Matt Damon’s acting talents. Isn’t that right, Nan?’

Billie nodded, her love of films one of the few pleasures she hadn’t lost. It was a passion she’d passed on to her grandson.

Scott buttered his toast, doubting that Matt Damon had anything to do with Ben’s English curriculum but appreciating his nephew’s efforts to keep Billie stimulated. ‘Just make sure you get some studying done. I don’t want the school on at me because you’re falling behind.’

Ben laughed. ‘I’m on course for straight As, Uncle Scott. Chill, will you?’

There was nothing Scott would have liked more than to ‘chill’, but that wasn’t going to happen. He could barely remember a time when he wasn’t stressed or aggrieved by his situation. But for the sake of his mother and nephew, he didn’t let his anxiety show. He was just grateful that Ben had inherited Lisa’s aptitude for study and not his own shortcomings.

Ben wiped Billie’s mouth with the paper towel. ‘Big date tonight, Nanny. I’m taking Amy to Francini’s for dinner. We’re taking the train into Ashford after school.’

Scott wasn’t sure what a ‘big’ date involved. Should he be worried? When it came to women, Scott avoided offering Ben any kind of guidance. He was hardly an authority on romance. Look at what had happened with Nicole. One minute they were in love, buying their first home together, engaged to be married, and the next his mum was struck down by a stroke and everything had crumbled around him.

Finishing his coffee, he stacked the breakfast things in the sink. The resentment he felt about his situation hadn’t eased in the two years since everything had gone tits up. If anything, it had become worse. His mum was blameless, but the resentment he felt towards Nicole was different, fuelled by confusion and betrayal. In the initial weeks following Billie’s stroke she’d been supportive and caring, helping him with the multitude of tasks that had landed in his lap. But when Nicole realised he wasn’t about to place his mum in a care home, cracks had developed.

She’d argued that settling his mother in a home and sending a fifteen-year-old Ben to foster carers was the sensible thing to do. Scott didn’t see it that way. Billie and Ben needed him. In the absence of Lisa, he was their only family. There was no way he could abandon them.

The biggest shock came when Nicole broke off their engagement, claiming she wasn’t being ‘put first’. In that moment a small part of him had stopped loving her. Self-interest wasn’t an attractive quality. But most of him didn’t want her to leave. He needed her. It felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest. But if she’d truly loved him, she would have supported him, not given him an ultimatum.

There was never really any choice. Scott would never have chosen anything other than looking after Billie. So they split up. He moved to Kent, while Nicole stayed in the house they’d purchased together in Putney.

‘Is that okay, Uncle Scott?’

The sound of Ben’s voice broke through his thoughts. ‘Sorry, what?’

‘Lisa’s allowance doesn’t hit my account until tomorrow. Can I borrow twenty quid? I don’t want to be caught short on my big date.’ His continued emphasis on the word ‘big’ rang alarm bells. But Scott wasn’t up for a birds and bees discussion with his nephew, who probably knew more than him anyway, so he dug out his wallet and gave Ben his last twenty-pound note.