The Flower Arrangement (37 page)

“I'll just watch the end of this movie,” he said flatly. “I'll be up in a bit.”

Poor Ben, she thought, turning on the shower. It wasn't just brides, she thought ruefully as the water finally began to ease the tension in her shoulders. Bridegrooms needed careful handling too. She brushed her teeth and slipped into a cream lace nightdress that Ben had given her on Valentine's Day. As she crossed the landing to the bedroom, she heard the swell of a soundtrack from the TV. The movie was ending. Ben would be up soon.

*   *   *

She must have closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, her 6 a.m. alarm was ringing and Ben was sleeping beside her, turned away on his side, snoring softly. She slipped out of bed and dressed quickly on the landing so as not to wake him.

Lara forgot about her exhaustion as she made her deliveries. Three very different bouquets for three very different brides, but the pre-wedding chaos at each address was identical. The roar of hairdryers that could not drown out the laughter and chatter of women together. Mothers and aunts crying and hugging one another. Sisters and friends helping one another into their dresses. Brides in Velcro rollers and
waffle robes, their faces Kabuki masks of foundation, their eyes blazing with excitement when they saw their bouquets.

Lara disengaged herself from hugs of gratitude, declined several glasses of champagne and dashed back to Blossom & Grow to give Ciara and Becca a hand with the reception and church flowers.

Phil's motorbike was parked outside the shop. That was strange, Lara thought, pulling the van into the space behind it. He wasn't due in this morning, but she could certainly do with an extra pair of hands.

She loaded her arms with the stacked Dutch buckets and the rolls of Bubble Wrap she'd used to keep the flowers steady and went inside. She knew, before Phil turned around, that something was wrong. Saw it in the stiff angle of his shoulders before Ciara gave her a warning eyebrow flash from behind the counter.

“I need to talk to you.” He was stony-faced.

“I'll just dump this stuff and put the kettle on.” It must be something bad, she thought. Her mind began to race. Was Katy okay? Had one of the couriers been injured?

“It can't wait,” he said sharply.

Ciara turned and clattered out into the kitchen.

Lara dropped everything on the floor by the door and went to him, her arms out. “What is it, Phil?”

He put his hand up to block her. “You and Ben, sneaking around behind everybody's backs. I just found out that you're getting married in less than two weeks.”

She flushed. This was not how she'd planned to tell her brother.

“Is it true? What Ben told Mia?”

Ben told Mia? she thought, stunned. Why would he do a thing like that? “I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you, but it was complicated with Ben and Katy and everything and I didn't want a big fuss.”

“Right.” He folded his arms and nodded—a quick jerk of his chin. “Because I'm the sort of man who'd make a big fuss.”

“Of course not.”

“Maybe I would have made a fuss.” His dark eyes, always so warm,
were hard. “Told you to think twice about the person you were marrying this time around.” His words were like a slap. “I know Ben is a charmer, but I'm not so sure that he's husband material and I don't think you're that sure either or you'd be celebrating this wedding instead of hiding it.”

“Sorry.” Lara held up her hand. “Did you say I should think about who I'm marrying
this time around
?”

“That was harsh.”

The door opened with a soft jingle and a blonde woman in a yellow summer dress stepped in. She took a look at the two of them and then backed out again.

“I have a business to run here,” Lara said quietly. “Can you leave now, please?”

“Listen to me.” Phil put his hand on her arm. “When Dad was dying, I promised him I'd look after you. How am I supposed to do that if you don't even trust me enough to tell me who you're marrying?”

“You? Look. After. Me?” Lara's voice rose on every word. “I can look after myself!” She pointed at the door. “Get out!”

He strode past her, clattering into a bucket of flowers as he slammed out of the shop.

Water spread across the floor, pooling around the scattered white foxgloves. Lara's hands were shaking as she bent down to pick them up. She didn't know which one of them she was angrier with, her brother or her fiancé.

*   *   *

Lara could hear Ciara talking to customers in the shop below. Voices she recognized asking for her. The bright chirrup of Zoe, in with her father for their usual Saturday bouquet. The deep bass of Charlie the artist, who must have sold another painting.

She stared numbly at the white flowers she had carried up to the worktable—nigella and dahlia, astrantia and viburnum for the table arrangements for a christening party—then she pushed them away and pulled out her phone.

She called Ben for the fifth time, but it went straight to voice mail again. She threw her phone into her bag in frustration. How could he have been so careless? Had he any idea of the trouble he'd caused between her and Phil?

She picked up her jacket. It was no use sitting here going over it in her head. She might as well ask the girls to make up the christening arrangements and go out and get the deliveries done instead.

She calmed down a little as she delivered the bouquets. One to a woman in her forties whose eyes filled with tears when she saw her roses. Sunflowers to a house where one excitable small girl in Dora the Explorer pajamas danced with delight on the doorstep while her sister, in a ladybird sleeping bag, hopped down the hall shouting for their mum.

But her heart sank as she drove into the hospital multi-story. Ciara had insisted on doing all the hospital runs since Lara's father died. She carried a bouquet of delphiniums and lilies up to the third floor and then hurried back down the stairs rather than wait for the lift. When she came out of the stairwell, it was into a department she didn't recognize, and she found herself lost in a maze of corridors that led, eventually, to the door of the ER.

An ambulance was parked right outside, blue lights still whirling, and two men in high-visibility jackets were unloading a body strapped to a gurney as Lara passed by. Something about the shape, cocooned in pale green blankets, made her look back. By then, the ambulancemen were rushing through the doors into the ER, but as they disappeared, Lara saw the sole of a scuffed leather biker boot and, stuck to it, the flattened bell of a white foxglove flower.

And within the space of a single heartbeat, the fire of her anger was extinguished and in its place was an arctic chill of fear.

“Phil!” She shouldered past the ambulancemen and ran alongside the trolley.

Someone tried to pull her away, but she hung on to the metal bar. Phil's eyes were open but out of focus. His skin was the dusty gray of
withered lilac, his lips almost blue. A gurgling noise came from under the oxygen mask.

“Phil! It's me. It's okay, I'm here.”

A swinging door opened with an electronic beep and the trolley was rushed through. A nurse grabbed Lara's arm.

“You don't understand! He's my brother!” She watched the door swing shut, then let herself be led to the waiting room. Her legs buckled as she sank into the plastic chair.

“Is there someone you can call?” the nurse was saying.

But Lara couldn't hear her; she was talking to God in her head.
I'll do anything
, she was telling him.
I'll give up everything I love. Blossom & Grow. Ben. Just don't let Phil die.

*   *   *

What was the big deal? Ben thought, digging the small plastic bag out of the bottom of his jacket pocket. He used to do this all the time when Katy thought he was working on his book. Have a joint with his morning coffee, go for breakfast in Bewley's, then stroll across town to Cineworld on Parnell Street. He took a Rizla and glued it onto another one, then began to rub one of the cigarettes between his fingers. It was stale but it would do the trick. He'd show Lara that she wasn't the only one who could play at being unavailable. He deliberately left his phone behind so that if she called she'd get the message.

An hour later he was settling himself in the velvety dark of the cinema. He watched two movies back-to-back. When he emerged into the bright late-afternoon sunshine, he felt queasy. He was dreading telling Lara that he'd told Mia about the wedding. She was going to be livid but she was the one who had insisted on keeping the whole thing secret in the first place. Ashamed, probably, of what her bloody brother would think.

His anger built as he crossed the Ha'penny Bridge and walked along Dame Street. By the time he got to Camden Street, he had convinced himself that it was Lara who should be apologizing to him. But when
he tried to open the door of the shop, he found it was locked. He banged on the door and peered through the glass. It wasn't even five o'clock and Lara never closed before six thirty on Saturdays. What was going on?

He hailed a cab and went back to Lara's place. That was empty too. He took the stairs two at a time, knowing in some deep part of him that none of this was good. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and saw the text messages flashing on his screen. They were all from Mia.

Ben, bad news! Call me!

Phil's had an accident. Not sure how bad. Lara's at St Fintan's. On way with Katy. Call when you get this.

Ben?!!!? Where the hell are you????

*   *   *

“It's my fault.” Katy clutched Lara's hand and stared at her, wild-eyed. “We had a fight last night. Our first fight. I stormed off to bed and left him to sleep on the sofa. He was upset with me, Lara. That's why this happened.”

“No,” Lara said quietly, remembering the look on Phil's face when she'd told him to get out. The bucket he'd knocked over as he slammed out of the shop. “It's my fault.”

When the doctor came through the swinging doors, they all stood up. Lara and Katy, Mia and Ronan and Ciara and her boyfriend, like children, Katy thought sadly, in a classroom when the teacher arrived.

The doctor checked his chart. “Which one of you is Phil Kiely's next of kin?”

Lara took Katy's hand and they both stepped forward, looking like two terrified little girls.

Katy was having trouble understanding the words but she could tell from the doctor's face, from the urgency of his voice, that Phil was in a bad way. He had six broken ribs. There were four fractures to his pelvis and both his legs were broken too. But the real danger was the collapsed lungs.

There were all sorts of complications they would have to get around, the doctor explained, but until they drained his pleural cavity and repaired his lungs, nothing was clear. “If we can stabilize him tonight,” he said, “there's a possibility we can do that surgery tomorrow.”

“And if you can't?” Lara whispered.

The doctor pressed his lips together. “Let's cross that bridge if we come to it.”

“Wait.” Katy put a shaking hand on his arm. “What are his chances?”

The doctor looked down at her hand. “Without the surgery, not good. With it, I can't really say . . .”

“You have to!” Katy plucked at his sleeve. “You have to say! I won't hold you to it, I promise, but I need to know. Does he have an eight percent chance? A fifty percent chance? Tell me!” Lara tried to pull her hand away. But she had seen the look on the doctor's face. “It's less than that, isn't it?” she whispered.

*   *   *

Mia and Ronan were standing in the corridor outside the waiting room of the ER.

Beyond them, Ben registered a row of chairs, a line of worried faces, Lara at the very end, between Ciara and Katy, looking paler than he'd ever seen her.

“Jesus, Ben!” Mia shook her heard. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I got here as soon as I could. How is Phil doing?” he whispered.

“It's touch and go.” Mia's eyes glittered with tears and annoyance and Ronan put his arm around her. “Go and talk to Lara. She needs you.”

But Lara barely seemed to see Ben. She stood up to let him hug her and it felt as if she was made of wood.

“Lara,” he said, conscious of Katy only a few feet away. “I'm sorry I didn't get here earlier. Will he be okay?”

“We don't know,” she whispered. She stepped back and slid shakily into her chair and took Katy's hand. “We have to wait.”

“Katy.” Ben bent down and put his hand on her shoulder. “Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?” She closed her eyes and shook her head. He wondered if she could smell the dope smoke on his breath.

*   *   *

Lara was right. All they could do was wait. Two long days before Phil was strong enough for the surgery. Eight nail-biting hours while a team of three surgeons operated on him.

Afterward, Katy and Lara were allowed to go in to see him for a couple of minutes. Phil was unconscious. His head was bandaged and his face was black with bruises. A thick raised line of stitches ran down his jaw. Both of his legs were in traction. There was a cage over his chest and his mouth was covered with a mask connected to the machine that was breathing for him.

He had been put into an induced coma to give his lungs time to heal, and it could be another week before he could safely be brought around. The trauma to his head had been minimal but there was still a chance of brain damage. He had survived, he was alive, but the waiting wasn't over yet.

*   *   *

“Dad! Dad!” Phil thrashed around in the thumping red-black darkness. “Daaaaad!”

When he was five, he used to point his bike down the steep hill outside the house, stand on the frame and let go. He'd shoot down and at the last minute lock the back wheel with his foot to stop. How many
times had his dad come running down that hill to pick him up and patch him up? Why wasn't he coming now?