Page 18 of Finding Love at Roseford Blooms
Lizzie frowned. ‘Am I getting in your way?’
‘No, love, not at all,’ Bee replied. ‘It’s been lovely having you in the shop to help me. But there are other things to do in the village, than keep your old aunt company in her shop.’
‘You know I’m more than happy with my own company, and yours,’ Lizzie said. She raised her cuff an inch off her chest. ‘And having this strapped onto me doesn’t exactly make me feel much like socialising.’
‘I understand that,’ Bee replied. ‘But an hour or two at the local fayre’s not going to wear you out, is it?’ She paused. ‘I bumped into Simon in the café a couple of days ago, too. He asked how you were.’
A blush warmed Lizzie’s cheeks as she met Bee’s keen, clear-eyed gaze. ‘Did he?’
Bee smiled. ‘He seemed worried about you. Is there something I should know?’
Lizzie shook her head vehemently. ‘No. I fell over when I was out walking and he picked me up.’
‘Oh, my goodness!’ Bee exclaimed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Did you hurt yourself again?’
At her look of concern, Lizzie rushed to reassure her. ‘No, thankfully. But Simon just happened to be passing by and he took me for a coffee.’
‘Really?’ Bee raised an eyebrow. ‘And how was that?’
‘It was fine,’ Lizzie replied quickly. Then, realising that Bee was expecting more, ‘He was sweet.’
Bee just looked at her.
‘Well, OK, more than sweet.’ Lizzie smiled. ‘I, er, really enjoyed talking to him.’
‘He’s a lovely boy,’ Bee replied. ‘I can’t think why some girl didn’t snap him up years ago.’ Her bright blue eyes met Lizzie’s and Lizzie couldn’t help but laugh.
‘It was just a coffee, Aunt Bee. He helped me back to my feet, and he probably just felt sorry for me.’
Bee shook her head. ‘Nothing to feel sorry about,’ she said briskly. ‘You really do put yourself down, sometimes.’
‘Yeah, because I’m such a hot prospect with a busted collarbone, no job and nowhere to live right now!’ Lizzie kept smiling, though. Bee always made her feel better, in her no-nonsense way. She couldn’t feel downcast for long when she was around her.
‘Well, you could do a lot worse,’ Bee replied. She put her knife and fork together on her plate. ‘Strawberries?’
Lizzie nodded. She’d eaten like a Labrador since she’d been in Roseford, but her weakness had been the local strawberries that Bee’s friend Helena Martin had been swapping for the odd bunch of flowers. Helena lived in a bungalow in the grounds of Halstead House, a stately Victorian manor at the other end of Roseford. Bee and Helena had become firm friends when Helena had moved to the village some years back, and she was a regular visitor to Roseford Blooms. Helena’s former son-in-law, Chris Charlton, and his partner, Stella, ran Halstead House as a writers’ and artists’ retreat, and Stella was a regular customer, too, as she liked to give each room at Halstead House a centrepiece of fresh flowers when the retreats were running.
As Bee sorted out two generous bowls of strawberries and topped them with clotted cream, Lizzie tried to put Simon’s enquiry about her out of her mind. That was the trouble with having no real focus in her life at the moment, she thought. Everything took on more significance than it should. She’d never have been dwelling on Simon, or the past, if she hadn’t pretty much lost everything else. Now everything in her life seemed to be on hiatus, it was tempting to linger on things she shouldn’t.
All the same, she thought, it had been nice, after the fall, to sit and have a coffee with Simon. He’d been kind to her without prying, and she was intensely grateful for that. Perhaps it would be nice to go to the summer fayre and see him again, if only to clear the air. Tucking into her strawberries, she decided she would. After all, what else was she going to do on a sunny weekend in sleepy old Roseford if Bee insisted that the shop was going to be closed?
17
The morning of the Roseford Summer Fayre dawned bright and sunny. Lizzie had slept well; she was getting used to sleeping with the cuff on, and a cup of Bee’s powerful chamomile tea had helped to put her out for the count. As the sun peered through the gap in the forget-me-not-patterned curtains of her room, she stretched her good arm above her head and rolled over. The event officially opened at one o’clock, but Lizzie was going to go to judge the floral exhibits with Bee a little earlier.
After a leisurely breakfast, Lizzie got in the shower, and spent more time than usual deciding what to wear. She knew the peaceful days and restorative nights’ sleep while she’d been in Roseford were doing her good, and she wanted to take a little extra care with her appearance. It wasn’t because she thought she might bump into Simon and Sarah again…
Settling eventually on a pair of cropped jeans and a flowing floral tunic that she could pull on with ease, she enlisted Bee’s help to put her hair up in a messy bun. She giggled when Bee put two decorative long pins that had brightly painted butterflies on the ends into the bun to secure it a little more.
‘I remember these from years ago, when I was about twelve,’ Lizzie said, smiling at the memory. ‘Georgina and I used to love doing each other’s hair, but we could never make the hairstyles stay put for more than about two minutes.’
‘The secret is not to have freshly washed hair,’ Bee said. ‘You did yours yesterday, didn’t you?’
‘Yup.’ Lizzie was relieved to get her hair off her neck. It felt as though it was going to be a very warm day, and her usual loose ponytail wouldn’t cut it.
As Bee held up a hand mirror so that Lizzie could see the back of her hair, Lizzie nodded in approval. ‘I’d never have managed that by myself, collarbone or no collarbone,’ she said. ‘Thanks, Aunt Bee.’
‘My pleasure,’ Bee replied. ‘You’ve such beautiful hair; you should experiment with it more often.’
