This London Love (9 page)

When Kate walked back through, Meg was tidying up the brochures, looking gorgeous against the backdrop of flowers all around. Her hair was artfully messy, her Camper shoes adding the necessary dash of funk.

When she heard Kate, Meg looked up and flashed her an all-conquering smile.

Kate was rendered incapable once more.

She just managed to make it through payment, and then they stared at one another, in the manner of what Kate assumed happened in Hollywood films. Kate didn’t want this to be there final meeting, but did Meg feel the same? There was definite hesitation in her words and movement.

“So, I hope the funeral goes well on Monday.” Meg held Kate’s gaze once more.

Kate simply gulped. “Will we see you there?”
Say we will.

But Meg shook her head. “No — we deliver the flowers to the funeral home and they take it from there.” She paused, looking pained. “So I guess this is goodbye.”

Kate stood rooted to the spot. How could she be feeling like this after less than an hour in this woman’s company? “I suppose so.”

“But you know, if you need any more flowers, you know where I am,” Meg said.

A lifeline. Kate was drowning, and Meg had just thrown her a rubber ring.

“I do. And I will.” This was the upbeat ending Kate was after. She smiled broadly at Meg and held out her right hand. Meg’s handshake was firm yet soft, and Kate imagined what it might be like to be caressed by those hands, held by those hands.

And then she bit her lip so hard, she tasted blood. “Until my next flower emergency, it was lovely to see you again.”

Meg smiled. “You too. Take care.”

Kate turned and walked towards the door.

“Oh, and Kate?”

Kate turned back, her shoes squeaking as she did.

“Thanks for the coffee.”

12

Uncle Mike’s funeral went off without a hitch and the flowers were beautiful — just like the woman who put them together. The funeral wake was at the local golf club, and Vicky was dressed in red, holding no truck with funeral traditions. As Vicky had decided at Dad’s funeral, these occasions were a celebration of someone’s life, not a day of compound misery. And true to her word, Vicky had held it together that day, while Mum and Kate had fallen to pieces.

“I thought Mum told us Mike had no mates?” Vicky raised an eyebrow as she surveyed the packed club.

“Apparently, Mum didn’t know him very well,” Kate replied.

Vicky’s husband Jack put an arm around his wife’s shoulder. Despite being clean-shaven, his five o’clock shadow was still pronounced. “If this is what no mates looks like, make sure you rent some for mine.” Jack loosened his black tie and nodded his head towards the bar. “Drinks, ladies?”

Vicky stroked the side of his face and then headed south to pat his bum. “Two wines would be delightful, husband.” She looked at Kate. “White wine okay?”

“Fine,” Kate said.

While Jack brushed past her, his Ralph Lauren cologne coating her nostrils, Kate scanned the room and was again impressed with the turnout — there were at least 80 guests present. Laughter reverberated off the walls as sausage rolls were munched, tea poured and beers uncapped. Kate counted three different types of quiches dotted along the spread, along with cold meats, bread, cheese and four types of salad.

Kate nudged Vicky with her elbow. “I’m starving — you want some food?”

But Vicky was barely paying attention, resting her hand on Kate’s arm as she studied something intently. Kate followed her line of vision and saw it honed on their mum, who was talking to a tall man in a fawn jacket. Mum was listening to him intently, every now and again smiling, laughing and throwing her head back, enthralled. Kate had watched enough rom-coms to know that hair swishing and elbow touching (their mum was doing that
right now
) were clear signs of flirtation.

“Is that what I think it is?” But even as she said it, Kate knew the answer. Plus, the flirting wasn’t one-way — for every hair swish and head flick her mum pushed out, Mr Silver Fox was giving her back his best too, with arm rubs, lean-ins and shy smiles.

Vicky nodded, without taking her eyes off the scene. “I believe it is. I believe our mother is at a funeral and is brazenly flirting with that man.” A few moments later, Vicky turned to face the Kate. “Do we know who the hell he is?”

Kate shook her head. “No idea.”

Vicky frowned. “He might be some kind of money-sucking lothario, right now laying the groundwork to swindle Mum out of her house and life savings.”

“Or he could just be a friend of Mike’s, perhaps?”

Vicky ignored Kate. “She’s still at it, look,” she said. “Laughing, flirting and joking at her
only brother’s
funeral
.” Vicky shook her head and sucked through her teeth. “Don’t you dare do that at mine.”

Kate raised both eyebrows at her sister. “Seriously? Miss ‘funerals should be happy occasions rather than sad ones’? You’re going to play that card?”

At that moment, Jack arrived back with two glasses of white wine and a pint of Guinness on a tray, which he placed on a nearby table. Handing out the wine to Kate and Vicky, he narrowed his eyes before taking a sip of his Guinness.

“I know that scowl,” he said. “What did I miss? Who’s in trouble?”

Vicky ignored him and continued to stare.

“Mum.” Kate nodded towards her.

Jack followed Kate’s gaze.

“She’s been talking to that man for ages and
flirting
with him.” Vicky spat the word ‘flirting’.

Jack grinned. “Good for Maureen! Life in the old dog yet.”

Vicky slugged him in the arm. “It’s only been five years,” she whined, before sticking out her bottom lip. “I want to know who he is.” She looked at Jack. “Will you go and find out?” Her face resembled that of her four-year-old son, Luke.

Jack put his arm around his wife. “Sweetheart, your mum is allowed to talk to whoever she likes. And besides, he might be an old friend — you don’t know everything about her.”

“But I want to know who he is,” Vicky mumbled.

“And you can ask her later. But for now, let’s have a drink, get some food and socialise. Stop obsessing.” Jack took another sip of his beer. “And if your mum is flirting, I say good for her.”

“I do, too,” Kate said.

Vicky pulled away from Jack and glared at them both. “You two are impossible. I’m going to talk to Aunty Viv.” And with that, she flounced off, leaving Jack and Kate grinning at each other.

“Isn’t she adorable when she’s angry?” Jack said.

***

Later that day, back at their mum’s house, Vicky and Kate were dividing up the flowers to give to various friends and family.

“You want this one?” Mum said, holding up a bunch of lilies to Vicky.

Kate could tell Vicky was still sulking, but Mum was either ignoring it or was oblivious. After a lifetime of Vicky’s sulks, her mum had probably learned how to tune them out.

Vicky shrugged. “Sure, I’ll take it. And I’ve got to go soon, the boys need picking up.” Only she didn’t move. Instead, Vicky sighed and turned to Maureen. “So, Mum.”

Maureen turned to her daughter.

“That man you were talking to today — who was he, an old friend?” Vicky really tried to keep the edge out of her voice, but didn’t quite manage it.

There was a definite twinkle in Maureen’s eye as she replied. “Which man?” she asked. “I spoke to a lot of men today. Was it Uncle Derek?”

“I
know
what Uncle Derek looks like.” Vicky paused. “No, the one I mean had silver hair, beige jacket — you were talking to him for quite a while.” Vicky was staring at their mum and holding her breath.

Kate had to admit she was, too.

Maureen waved a hand through the air. “Oh, him. Yes, I had a lovely chat with him — Lawrence was his name. He’s a colleague of Mike’s, worked at the same place for years. Had so many lovely things to say about your uncle.” Maureen stuttered. “He was a true gentleman.” And then her cheeks coloured crimson and she was rumbled. “I’m actually seeing him again next week. He’s asked me to go with him to see that exhibit at the Tate, and then dinner afterwards. Gave me his card and everything.” Maureen looked down at her kitchen table, then back up.

“So I’m… I’m going. On a date. With Lawrence. What do you think?”

Maureen’s face lit up as she told them the news and Kate couldn’t help but reflect that happiness right back. She risked a sideways glance at Vicky, but couldn’t quite make out her response. Kate walked around the table and embraced her mum in a tight hug, feeling her warmth and familiar smell as she did so.

“I think that’s brilliant, Mum — I really do. Pulling at a funeral is quite some feat.” Kate smiled as she stepped back.

Maureen reached up and kissed Kate on the cheek, brushing a thumb across the spot straight afterwards as she always did.

They both turned to Vicky, whose face was blank, her eyes giving nothing away.

“And what do you think?” Maureen asked finally, tired of waiting for a response.

Kate could see Vicky weighing up her options, but she wasn’t sure which one her sister was going to plump for.

They didn’t have to wait long.

“Terrific.” Vicky’s voice was flat, her words hollow. She whipped her head round, picked up the nearest bunch of flowers and walked round to kiss her mum, then Kate. “Gotta dash. Say bye to Viv and Derek for me.”

And with that, Vicky and her red dress walked out of the kitchen. Moments later, Kate and her mum heard the front door slam.

Maureen gave an audible sigh.

Kate put an arm around her. “I wouldn’t worry — Vicky’s not good with change, she needs time to process.” She squeezed her mum’s shoulder and kissed the top of her head.

“I’m not marrying him,” Maureen replied. “I’m just going on a date.” She shook her head. “She’s always been a drama queen, that one.”

“True enough.”

“And it wasn’t what I expected to happen today. I mean, who gets a date at a funeral?” Maureen laughed as she said it. “But Mike’s death has made me think that it might be nice to find someone to share things with. Is that so bad?”

Kate shook her head. “No, it’s not bad at all.”

13

Tuesday morning and Dawn met Kate at the coffee machine.

“Can you believe we drink this stuff everyday? I dread to think what it’s doing to our insides.”

“Best not to think about it,” Kate said.

“Can you follow me for a chat?” Dawn didn’t wait for an answer. She was wearing a smart blue dress today with blue heels, looking every bit the publisher rather than an editor. She waited for Kate to come through the meeting room door, before shutting it and sitting down in one of the chairs.

“Have you got a job interview or something?” Kate said.

Dawn gave her a puzzled look.

“The dress, the make-up.” Kate wafted her hand up and down in front of Dawn’s body.

“Oh, that.” Dawn rolled her eyes. “Had a breakfast meeting this morning, so I thought I’d wow them. You know what marketing people are like.”

“And did it work?”

“I think it did. We’ve got some fabulous cover gifts all signed, so ‘operation dress’ was a success.” Dawn sat back.

Kate gave her a high five. “Good work.”

“Thanks.” Dawn paused. “But anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Kate sat up in her chair.

“I spoke to Ben yesterday about putting the lesbian runners on the cover. I explained the feeling in the team, that we’d got a potential group in mind and that things have moved on since they tried it last time, which they have.”

“And?” Kate’s interest was piqued.

“And he agreed. So long as we partner it with something strong to appeal to our core readers, too — and believe me, the cover gift I’ve just secured is just that. So it’s all systems go. I’ll tell Hannah to get in touch with her mate and you can both go and flirt with the runners. Aren’t I lovely to you?” Dawn sat back, grinning some more.

Kate chuckled. “You are the loveliest boss in the world. Shall we go and tell the troops?”

They both got up. “After you,” Dawn said, rolling her hand in a royal wave.

14

Wednesday morning. Hump day. Meg was slouched behind the counter in the florist’s kneading her temples in a bid to stave off an impending headache. In truth, the headache had been lingering for around a year, but at least she had the shop as her refuge from her home life, her place to get some peace and boost her sanity levels.

Not that she’d had a whole lot of peace today. Outside, the September weather was doing its usual unseasonal thing, but the sun searing the pavements was doing wonders for walk-in trade. People always bought more flowers in the sunshine; it was just the way of the world.