The Windmill Café: Summer Breeze. Poppy Blake
only thing I was good at was keeping the little flower shop we ran together in Pimlico organized and spotless. Of course, in a way he was right. I don’t have any formal training in floristry, my educational background is in catering. It took me months of persuasion before he allowed me to design a wedding bouquet for one of our clients and he was so dismissive of my initial attempts that I nearly gave up.’
‘I take it you didn’t?’
Rosie saw Matt’s jaw tighten and was grateful he was on her side. She could have done with a friend like him around when the worst happened. However, simply meandering the memory maze caused the familiar emotions of worthlessness to rear their obnoxious heads, and the muscles in her stomach contracted painfully. Yet, her time at the Windmill Café with Mia’s constant cheerleading ringing in her ears had enabled her to understand that the problems she had experienced had been instigated by Harry’s dismissive behaviour towards her and she was able to look upon the termination of their relationship from a totally different perspective. As her sister Georgina had repeatedly told her, what Harry had done was reprehensible whichever way you looked at it, and this gave her the courage to continue with her story.
‘One of the first flower shop clients I was “let loose” on was a magazine journalist who wanted to renew her wedding vows. I spent hours researching her favourite flowers, peonies, and I managed to find one called “Bride’s Dream” – a gorgeous, frilly white flower that I paired with baby’s-breath and wrapped in glossy dark green foliage. Even if I say so myself, her bouquet was stunning. Harry begrudgingly said it was acceptable.’
Rosie could picture the posy as though it were nestled on the table in front of her. She had loved the photographs that Annika had emailed to her the week after her ‘second honeymoon’ in the Maldives. She had even printed a couple off and framed them, much to Harry’s disapproval.
‘But the best thing was, Annika loved the flowers so much she wrote a special feature on fresh new ideas for bridal flowers and asked me to design three additional bouquets to showcase in her article. I was over the moon! That article increased our business four-fold and as a result we started to get commissions from minor celebrities.’
Rosie paused, unsure whether she could go on. Recalling that painful time was making it difficult to breathe normally and her heart hammered a concerto of distress against her ribcage. Of all the friends she had made in Willerby, only Mia knew about Harry’s infidelity, minus the details about how she found out – it was just too embarrassing. She saw that Matt was listening to every word she said, his expression serious, and she suddenly wanted to get the whole terrible episode out in the open. Maybe if she gave her demons wings, they would fly!
‘I never forget things – it’s one of my, erm… well, my personality quirks. I was on my way to meet a harpist at one of the West End theatres to discuss ideas for her bridesmaids’ bouquets when she called and asked me to take a few flower samples to show her. I doubled-back to the shop to collect the beautiful white calla lilies that we’d just had delivered that morning and… well, imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon Harry getting more than a little acquainted with one of our brides underneath the chrysanthemums. Talk about saying it with flowers! The two of them were practically screaming it!’
Rosie dashed away a solitary tear in irritation. That sharply focused image had been imprinted on the insides of her eyelids for far too long. What had happened was in the past and she had moved on.
‘Rosie, I’m so sorry.’ Matt reached out to squeeze her hand and an intense burst of his citrusy aftershave made the corners of her lips curl upwards despite her sadness.
‘Thanks,’ she muttered, grateful to see the genuine empathy in his eyes
‘You probably won’t believe this, but I know exactly how you feel.’
‘Really?’ She attempted a weak smile. ‘Did your ex-girlfriend cause the cancellation of a two-hundred-thousand-pound wedding? Because that’s what happened. Heidi was due to say “I do” to a Greek shipping lawyer the following week. She had called into our shop to finalize the guests’ buttonholes and apparently couldn’t resist sampling everything that was on offer. Surprisingly, they’re still together, although Heidi refuses to work alongside Harry in the shop. It was four months ago and whilst I no longer have feelings for Harry, I’m still working on my forgiveness skills.’
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