This London Love (3 page)

Kate had worked in magazines for the past eight years and she loved her job. She’d previously worked on titles involving food, horses and cars, before moving onto Female Health & Fitness a year ago, following Dawn from their previous foodie magazine, Scrumptious. When Dawn had announced she was leaving to launch a fitness magazine, she’d convinced Kate to come with her — and Kate was glad she had. Their publisher Ben called them the dream team, which they both loved.

Kate had learned a whole lot about how to stay fit and healthy during her time on the magazine, and she tried to follow its advice as much as she could. The women she stared at on its pages seemed to glow with health and vitality, probably through eating salmon and blueberries all day, and drinking only spring water. Well, that and the aid of Photoshop — it was amazing what their touch-up artists could do these days.

“Morning, sunshine.” Her editor Dawn sat on the edge of Kate’s desk and grinned at her. Dawn was dressed for the season in a yellow sundress and thin cardigan.

“Morning — how are you?” Kate stretched her arms over her head and let out an audible yawn.

Where Kate was blonde, tall and lithe, Dawn was dark-haired and pint-sized, but still slim. Kate doubted Dawn would have got the job if she was overweight — the magazine had an image to keep up, after all. But what the readers didn’t know was that while Dawn looked virtuously healthy, she actually survived on a diet of Kit Kats, coffee and the occasional sausage baguette with extra ketchup.

“I’m good — very good in fact. I was ovulating last night, so it was a long night for Nick and I, if you catch my drift.” Dawn winked at Kate.

Kate stuck her tongue out and made a gagging sound. “Not before I’ve had my first coffee, please.”

Dawn shook her head. “You’re so heterophobic.”

“Before my first coffee, I’m everyone-phobic.”

Kate got up and walked towards the kitchen, with Dawn following close behind. She pressed the cappuccino button on the enormous coffee machine and watched a plastic cup the colour of tan tights fall into place.

“How about you — how was your night? Wasn’t Jess cooking up some fabulous meal?”

Kate shook her head. “That was the plan. But then my uncle dropped dead, so I had to go round to my mum’s instead.” The coffee machine stopped whirring and Kate took a sip. She recoiled as the liquid burned her tongue, a daily routine.

“I’m so sorry!” Dawn’s face creased with concern. “Were you close?”

Kate waved a dismissive hand. “Last time I saw him was about ten years ago, so not really. But I might have to leave early to arrange flowers, just to warn you.”

Dawn nodded. “Of course, whatever you need. Is your mum okay?”

“She’s coping. Her sister’s there today so they’re doing the coffin, funeral and all of that.” Kate paused. “So well done you, having a night of sex.” She pointed her finger at Dawn. “We could all die any time, you know.”

Dawn smiled. “That’s what I like about you — your cheery disposition.” She wagged a finger back in Kate’s direction. “We’ve got to get you a night of sex before you die too, that’s my mission.”

Kate nearly spat out her mouthful of still-too-hot coffee as they walked back to their desks. “I hope I have sex again before I die. It’s been nine months already and that seems like a lifetime.”

Dawn grinned as she sat in her seat and pulled out her desk drawer. Inside were four two-finger Kit Kats and a Penguin. She selected a Kit Kat and picked up her tea.

“I’m going to take a picture and tweet you having breakfast one of these days.” Kate swung round in her chair.

Dawn grinned. “I’d just say it was for a dare, then send a follow-up tweet of me holding a banana and a stick of celery.” She paused. “Are we having a meeting this morning?” Dawn looked around the office but only half the staff were in — features editor Hannah and deputy art editor Henry were missing in action.

“Henry’s at the dentist. Root canal,” Kate said, pre-empting Dawn’s question.

“And Hannah?”

Kate gave Dawn a wide grin. “She had a date last night, so I couldn’t possibly say.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “What it is to be young and free.”

***

That morning, Kate’s mum called with the details of her favoured florist — Maureen was insistent because Barbara down the road had used them for her husband’s funeral and the flowers had been beautiful. Neither of them mentioned they could have just used the florist they used for Dad, but Kate imagined Mum didn’t want to be reminded of that dreadful day.

Kate clicked on the Fabulous Flowers website — tastefully done, with pastel colours and flowing fonts. Whoever was in charge of this particular florist knew about design. It was one of Kate’s bugbears — bad colours and fonts, especially on the web. Having been trained in print design, seeing so many rules flaunted online broke her heart daily.

She checked their opening hours — till 7pm. It was 2pm now, but the art department had nothing in their in-tray and her deputy Henry had his legs propped up on his desk, reading a copy of their sister magazine, Male Health & Fitness. Kate tapped the top of the magazine.

Henry duly lowered it. “Yes?” His dark beard was a little out of control, but Henry also possessed killer green eyes which made women swoon.

“I’m going to bugger off early — you think you can handle the rush?”

Henry swept his eyes around the half-empty office and nodded slowly. “I think so, although keep your phone on and I’ll call if there’s an emergency.” He paused, before raising his voice. “Like if Daisy gets the letters page over to me that was due this morning.”

Across the office, staff writer Daisy didn’t even raise her head, but simply extended a middle finger in Henry’s direction.

“Great.” Kate patted Henry’s leg, shrugged on her jacket and slotted her phone and wallet into her grey canvas bag. “Can you tell Dawn I’ve gone when she gets back too?”

Henry saluted her. “Consider it done.”

5

Kate arrived in front of Fabulous Flowers just after 4pm. Like their website, the shop was tastefully designed with impressively modern signage in soothing green and an inviting window display. Maureen had just called to ask if Kate had organised the flowers yet, and Kate had told her she was on her way. She forgave her mum for being a little overbearing seeing as she was dealing with a family death — but seriously, she’d agreed to do this less than 24 hours ago.

Kate pushed the door and heard the bell as her senses were overwhelmed by a wave of fresh floral scents. Colours and vibrancy jumped out at her from every angle, with familiar flowers and the more exotic jostling for attention. The floor on either side was taken up with chrome buckets stuffed with blooms, and every other available surface — wooden crates, stands and boxes — was overtaken too. Far from being chaotic, though, the overall effect was an artful, sensory overload.

On a wooden stand against the wall to her left were sheets of tissue paper in cool shades, and the large, retro counter straight ahead held multi-coloured ribbon and string, along with a cash register, phone and thick appointment book.

Even though she was a graphic designer, Kate had never really been drawn to flowers as an art form. However, this shop showed it could be done and she was impressed.

“Mum, I know that wasn’t how you did it back in the day, but this is how I do it now, so you’re going to have to trust me.”

The conversation was out of sight but Kate could hear every word. Rich, smooth voice and the unmistakable hint of an adult child being peeved with her parent. Kate could well sympathise.

“Yes they wanted them for every table.” Pause. “I know, but it’s their wedding. Look, I have to go, someone’s in the shop. Let’s talk about this tomorrow.” Pause. “Yes I know, we’ll talk tomorrow. Bye.”

Kate turned briskly and focused her attention on a bucket of delicate pink flowers. She had no idea what they were, but she was certain they’d be a winning choice if your favourite colour was shocking pink. Which hers wasn’t. But Barbie would love them.

Kate heard footsteps come into the shop, a sigh and she looked up. But she was not prepared for the sight that greeted her. Standing behind the counter was a woman around her age with short hair the colour of sunshine, deep, greenish-blue eyes and miles of tanned skin running down her neck. She gave Kate a grandstand smile as their eyes met, and Kate stopped breathing for a second. Perhaps two. How had she never stepped into this florist before today? She’d passed by it often enough on the way to her mum’s house.

“Hi,” Kate managed. She was impressed her words sounded level, normal. Her words did not give away the fact her heart was thumping, her ears flushed, her buttocks clenched. No, Kate was fairly sure these were facts only she knew. Her brain instructed her legs to move forward and thankfully, her legs obliged.

“How can I help?”

Kate’s mind was blank. The only thoughts whizzing round her head had nothing to do with her uncle’s funeral. Kate forced herself to focus.

“It’s my uncle — he died.” Kate winced. That was not a slick opening sentence.

“Oh my goodness,” the woman said. “I’m so sorry. Would you like a seat? A cup of tea?”

“I’m fine, really.” Kate batted the offer away with her hand. “We weren’t close.”
Did that sound like she was a heartless wench?
She ploughed on.

“But my mum’s asked me to organise the flowers, so here I am.” Kate paused. Her throat was dry. She needed liquid. “But now I come to think about it, that’s all the instructions she gave me. Do you have a set thing you do for funerals?” Kate looked at the florist, baffled. “Because the only other person who’s died in my life is my dad and I didn’t do his flowers. My sister did. She did all the arranging really, she was great. Just took charge. I was a bit shell-shocked, like my mum.”
Oh. My. God. Why couldn’t she shut up?

Kate wished she’d remembered to take her cool pills this morning.

Clearly though, the florist was used to it — she didn’t look alarmed. “I can well imagine.” Her eyes radiated kindness and sympathy. “Wait there,” she said, and disappeared into the back of the shop.

Did Kate have time to check her appearance in her phone camera? She put her hand in her bag, but before she could grab her phone, the florist reappeared, this time carrying two chairs. She arranged them around the corner of the counter and motioned for Kate to sit down.

“Please.” She flashed Kate her grandstand smile again which flooded her eyes, and Kate could do nothing else but comply, her heartbeat pulsing in her ears.

The florist sat in the other chair and pulled across a couple of books from the end of the counter.

“First things first — I’m Meg.” She held out a hand to Kate.

Kate took the hand in hers, trying not to dwell too much on the long, slender fingers. She shook Meg’s hand slowly and brought her eyes up to meet Meg’s again.

Was Meg looking at her fingers too?
Of course she wasn’t
. Honestly, no wonder Kate’s mum thought she needed checking up on. Here she was, tasked with sorting out her uncle’s flowers and she was trying to hit on the undoubtedly straight florist.
Focus
.

“Kate,” she replied, still holding onto Meg’s hand. “And I’m sorry I just blurted out half my life story to you. It’s just a weird situation, ordering flowers for a funeral.” Kate wasn’t sure she’d made it any better.

Meg smiled back. “Believe me, you did not blurt out your life story.” She fixed Kate with her gaze. “Besides, us florists are like therapists — confidentiality is key. What goes on in Fabulous Flowers, stays in Fabulous Flowers.” Meg let out a low chuckle that reverberated all the way down Kate’s body.

Suddenly, Kate had a new plan of action: the quicker she could get this over with, the better.

Meg, however, had other ideas, getting to her feet and licking her lips. “So how about that tea, now you know you can trust me. Or I have coffee if you prefer?” She smiled at Kate as she waited for an answer.

Kate was still focused on Meg’s lips. “Coffee would be great.”

“Gimme two ticks.”

Kate watched Meg’s trim form disappear — she was tall, perhaps taller than her, and Kate was no slouch in the height department. Kate’s cheeks reddened and her eyes darted around the shop — she needed a distraction. Lilies. Were they appropriate funeral flowers? Kate thought she’d read it somewhere. There were some intriguing black flowers on the far side of the shop, but she could just imagine her mum’s face if she ordered those. Maureen would not be amused.

Meg came back a few seconds later with two white mugs of coffee. She put them down on the counter, then disappeared again, coming back seconds later with a two-pint carton of milk in one hand, her phone in the other.

“Wasn’t sure if you took milk.” She handed the milk to Kate. With her other hand, she fiddled with her phone, frowned, then put it back in her pocket.

“Everything okay with you?” Kate was glad to have a moment where she was the one who looked in control.

Meg smiled, but her face didn’t light up this time. “Fine — just dealing with my mum. We run the florist together and we’re having a difference of opinion.” She shrugged and held up both palms. “But anyway, back to you and your uncle’s funeral. Do you want to have a look at some popular funeral choices?”