Page 3 of One Moment in Time
‘You can do that without leaving our kitchen,’ Zara teased, as she pushed herself up from her chair, squeezing her buttocks in an attempt to restore some feeling to her numb cheeks. It really was time to get a proper office chair instead of the old wooden seat that their gran had donated when they first opened the shop.
Blooming Sisters was their company, their pride and joy, and their reason for getting up at ungodly hours. Zara adored every brick and scent of the place. In the trendy Hyndland area of Glasgow, it had a decent passing trade, but the sisters’ speciality and biggest financial earner was event flowers: weddings, funerals, gender reveals, corporate balls, Christmas parties, TV shows… anywhere, in fact that required barrows full of flowers, beautifully arranged.
When they’d first opened the shop, Zara had a very real fear that they’d lose their business loan, their savings and the cash their parents had loaned them in the first six months. Thankfully, she’d been wrong. Now, five years later, the hours were still long, the shop could do with a new boiler, and Zara hadn’t yet lost that tiny nugget of fear that it could all go blooms up at any minute, but they were making a healthy profit and – most importantly – in year three, they’d paid back the loan that their mum and dad had given them.
Their parents, however, had refused to accept any interest so that had been the starting point for the Vegas idea. How could they thank the mum and dad that had been so constant in their lives, so loving, so solid, so utterly decent and supportive? Zara wasn’t sure if she or Millie had suggested Vegas first, but as soon as it was out there, they’d both jumped right on board, especially when a small inheritance from their lovely granny last year had made it more financially viable. They were about to blow every penny they possessed on this trip, but they both felt it was the right thing to do. Most of the time. After a few gin and tonics, Millie had occasionally announced that the right thing to do was to spend it on a deposit for a Mercedes, and then whack the rest of the payments she couldn’t afford on a credit card, but she always changed her mind when she woke up the next morning.
This was, Zara knew, going to be the most special few days of their lives and this was what it was all about. Making lifelong memories. Showing family how much you love them. Going out of your way to create wonderful moments for the people who deserve it most. And earning a lifetime of free Christmas dinners from a mum who would definitely let them off the cooking after this.
For the next half hour or so, they both sang along to Millie’s Beyonce playlist while they worked, until Zara finished the first centrepiece, a magnificent glass cube that burst into a cloud of white flowers. It was stunning. Exactly what the bride had settled on, after approximately forty-seven conversations, a dozen changes of mind and at least one hysterical meltdown. ‘It’s so gorgeous,’ she said wistfully, stepping back and walking around the table to view it from all angles.
A sniff came from Millie and Zara’s head swivelled round in surprise. Her sister didn’t usually do tears or outpourings of sentimentality.
‘Are you overcome with emotion?’
‘Nope, just bit into this spicy satay stick and it’s making my eyes water,’ Millie retorted, laughing as she held up the skewer. ‘But it is gorgeous. If you’re going to enslave yourself to one man for the rest of your life, then I suppose you want to mark the big day with a nice centrepiece.’
‘Remind me not to let you write our next promo campaign.’ Zara sighed. ‘What’s wrong with us? Two women, not a romantic bone in your body and not a romantic inclination in my brain. Do you think it’s some kind of genetic flaw?’
Millie had already grown bored of the work and had taken a break to check her Insta notifications but she multi-tasked and continued the conversation. ‘I think maybe Mum and Dad kept all the romance for themselves. Thirty years. How is that even possible? Especially after a spontaneous Vegas wedding. They’re going to be so blown away by this trip. I know it. And if we can get their old pals there, that’ll be even more perfect. Although… have you ever asked Mum and Dad why they didn’t stay in touch with their mates back then? I mean, they all look really chummy in that photo and yet we’ve never met them. What if they had a huge falling out or something?’
Zara paused, her fingers intertwined in the stems of two lilies. ‘Mum and Dad? They haven’t fallen out with a single person in their whole lives. And no, I didn’t ask them, because I found the picture in Gran’s old photo box when I was clearing out her stuff after she passed, and it didn’t seem like the right time. Then we decided to pull this surprise and I didn’t want to spoil it. Anyway, the answer’s obvious now… it must have been because the other two went off somewhere. Gary Gregg decided to live in America and Eileen Smith must have moved away too. No internet back then. People lost touch all the time.’
‘You think?’
Zara caught sight of Millie’s raised eyebrow of scepticism. Which didn’t happen very often, given her sister’s love of Botox.
‘Oh God, your forehead moved. Don’t scare me like that.’
Millie brushed her fingers across her brow. ‘I thought I felt something strange. Anyway, you’re probably right. You know I just don’t always have your sunny view of life. Relentless optimism gives me a migraine. I’m sure it’ll be totally fine.’
Zara pushed down any twinge of doubt. ‘It will be. I know it. Any second now, Gary Gregg will reply to my message and tell me this is the best thing that’s happened to him in years.’
2
BRENDA
April 2023
Brenda watched as her friend Bernadette’s face beamed. BEAMED.
‘I think we’re going to have to stop being friends until you find a way to wipe that smile off your face,’ Brenda told her, as she put two mugs of tea down on the table in the staff room of the Accident and Emergency department at Glasgow Central Hospital. But, of course, she didn’t mean it. Bernadette’s joy was a sight for sore eyes. A long time coming. The happy ever after. And all the other clichés that anyone could throw at second-time-around, later-in-life love.
Bernadette picked up her steaming mug. ‘I don’t blame you. If I met me now, I’d think I was unbearable,’ she said, her soft lilt bubbling with the warmth that had made her one of Brenda’s closest friends. Twenty-five years they’d worked together on the wards at Glasgow Central and Brenda treasured every single one of them.
‘Right then, tell me everything. All the details. Leave nothing out,’ Brenda demanded. ‘Although, I’ve only got a half-hour break, so you might need to go with bullet points.’
Bernadette chuckled and Brenda thought again how fantastic it was to see her friend’s happiness oozing from every pore.
‘Okay, bullet points. John and I spent the weekend in Dublin. One of his sons, Tadgh…’
‘He’s the singer?’
Bernie nodded. ‘Yep, but not the one in the band. The solo one.’
Brenda had heard all about Bernadette’s manfriend’s family over the last few months, since Bernadette had met John during a holiday last summer. The term ‘boyfriend’ had been ditched because, according to Bernadette, it just didn’t seem right given that they could ‘both remember the words of songs from the seventies’.
‘Well, he had a gig in a concert hall in the city centre, and afterwards, we were all walking home – I told you my Nina and Gerry, and my Stuart and his boyfriend, Callum, were coming with me?’
