Page 9 of Finding Love at Roseford Blooms
Simon noticed Bee’s gaze, writ large with worry, lingering on the departing back of her niece as Lizzie exited the flower shop. She’d left her own mug of coffee untouched on the counter, too, he observed.
‘Is everything all right?’ Simon asked.
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Bee said quickly. ‘She’s not really herself at the moment. The broken collarbone doesn’t help, but she’s really rather down in general. I hope a few weeks here in Roseford, away from it all, will help.’
‘Well, if anyone can help, you can,’ Simon said. He glanced at his watch. ‘I’ll keep you updated about the confetti.’
‘Please do,’ Bee replied. She passed him a couple of the Phoenix Rosas. ‘Give these to your mother, with my regards.’
‘Thank you,’ Simon said, touched. Bee and his mother had been close when they’d been younger, and still met for the occasional cup of coffee from time to time. ‘She’ll love them.’
As he left the shop, he glanced up the main street towards Bee’s house, hoping to catch another glimpse of Lizzie, but she’d already gone. He felt the strangest sense of protectiveness towards her, even from that brief meeting. But there was something else, too, nagging at his brain. He wondered if hehadmet her before when she’d come to stay with Bee in the past, although he couldn’t place exactly when, or where. And he couldn’t help thinking that it wasn’t only her injuries that had made him feel as though he wanted to protect her. Something else was making him feel that way, some event long ago, lost to the mists of time and his own vague memory. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on what that might be.
9
Lizzie’s heart raced as though she were back in school doing the hundred-metre sprint as she hurried up the hill and back to the sanctuary of Bee’s cottage. She ignored the thud of her wrist in the cuff against her chest as she picked up the pace, consumed instead by the memories that seeing Simon up close had evoked.
She hadn’t expected to come face to face with Simon Treloar so soon, and twice in one morning, to boot. Of course, she’d known she’d have to face him some time, but she’d hoped she’d be able to stay out of the way and convalesce a little while longer first. She felt stripped back, vulnerable. As if all the years between now and the last time she’d seen them had vanished, and she were that girl again. The joke.
No. That girl’s gone.
But she hadn’t; not really. She was still there, underneath the better clothes, the contact lenses and the straighter hair. She still lurked in all of her awkwardness, peering out from Lizzie’s eyes as if no time had passed at all.
As she let herself into the cottage, closing the door firmly behind her, she let out a shaky breath. What was she still so afraid of? Simon clearly hadn’t recognised her. And she had nothing to feel ashamed about, after all. What she was remembering had happened many, many years ago. It wasn’t who she was now. All the same, she couldn’t shake her sense of growing disquiet. That night, in some senses, had changed everything. That night had been the catalyst that had impacted so many things; had changed the relationship with her sister irrevocably. Simon Treloar, whether he remembered or not, had been part of that.
Unwilling to confront the memories that had lain buried for so long, Lizzie decided to make herself useful, as much as she could. Bee would appreciate some lunch, she was sure, so she thought she’d make a picnic to take back to the flower shop a bit later, when surely she wouldn’t be unlucky enough to bump into Simon a third time.
This proved more difficult than she’d anticipated, with only one hand, but eventually she’d sorted out some sandwiches and packed them up with the punnet of strawberries she’d found in the fridge. Then, to rest up a little before heading back to the flower shop, she went to her room, where she’d left her phone, to check her messages.
As she’d anticipated, there were a couple of texts from her mother, wishing her a lovely stay with Bee, one from Paul, asking her to call him, and a voicemail from Georgina. She’d not spoken to her sister yet, so perhaps this was a good opportunity to put that right. She pressed play on the voicemail, and Georgina’s slightly breathy voice filled the air.
‘Hi, Lizzie-bobs! I hope you got to Aunt Bee’s all right. Call me when you have a minute, and we’ll arrange a proper catch-up. I have so much to tell you! You’ll never believe what’s been happening. I hope you’re feeling better. Speak soon, bye!’
Lizzie tried not to wince. It was typical of Georgina to send her good wishes as an afterthought. She’d always been the same. Why would her sister having a car accident mean she behaved any differently? Then Lizzie chided herself. Georgina had her own busy life, after all. It wasn’t entirely Georgina’s fault that the two of them had become less close as adults than they’d been as teenagers. Lizzie had to take some responsibility for that. All the same, she was discombobulated enough at being back in Roseford without arranging a ‘proper catch-up’ with Georgina. She was feeling too battered to add that to the mix.
Mooching about in her room, Lizzie noticed the top of the built-in unit of cupboards in the corner was open slightly. She assumed Bee had grabbed the bedding out of it in a hurry, and forgotten to shut it back up, and so, more for the want of something to do than anything else, she figured she should close it. Bee was quite short, and would have to get up on a step stool to do it, whereas Lizzie was tall enough to do it if she reached, even with a broken collarbone.
As she pulled open the cupboard to make sure there was nothing getting in the way of it, she saw a plastic carrier bag obstructing the brass arm mechanism that lifted and closed the cupboard. Straining slightly, mindful of the sling on her arm, Lizzie pulled the carrier bag towards her. She intended only to move it out of the way, but the retro logo of some long-defunct high-street chain store made her smile. Trust Bee to cling onto even the daftest of items. Bee’s house was neat and tidy, but only because she kept the clutter out of sight in the cupboards that adorned every room. From the weight of the bag, Lizzie guessed it contained old fabrics, probably clothes that Bee hadn’t the heart to get rid of.
Lizzie knew she should just shove it back in the cupboard, but she was overwhelmed with curiosity. She’d seen pictures of Bee and Cordelia from back when they were younger and wondered if Bee still had some of the fabulous outfits she’d worn in the seventies and early eighties. Where her mother had been more sensible with her clothing choices, Bee loved vibrant colours and styles, and Lizzie had enjoyed going into her dressing-up box whenever she and Georgina had come to stay. Georgina had had more of an eye for fashion, but back when the sisters were each other’s best friend, Lizzie had joined in, giggling at the bright geometric patterns on the fabrics of the dresses and tops, and trying on as many as they could get away with.
Bee might be older now, but her love of colour still persisted, and was expressed in her flower arrangements as well as her clothes. Lizzie was curious to see what she’d shoved in this old shopping bag, at the back of the cupboard.
Pulling out the first couple of items, which were the kind of colourful summer dresses Lizzie could imagine her aunt wearing, Lizzie held one of them up to herself and approached the mirror on the back of the bedroom door. She’d never been one for too much pattern or colour, but she could see the potential in the seventies summer maxi dress. Its ruched front would be easy to slip on while she still had the sling on her arm, too. She placed it carefully to one side and resolved to ask Bee if she could help her to try it on later.
Delving back into the bag, she found another frock. This one wasn’t in colours that she was particularly fond of though, so, after a cursory glance, she popped it on the bed.
The final item was scrunched up tightly, and as Lizzie’s fingers touched it, a shock of remembrance ran through her. The texture of the lambswool brought back a powerful memory, one that she’d managed to bury away for the past twenty or so years.
Gingerly, after taking a deep breath, she reached in again and carefully pulled the item out of the carrier bag. As it unfurled, her hand clenched reflexively. Why had Bee kept it? Why hadn’t she just chucked it out? It smelled musty, having been at the bottom of a bag in a cupboard for so long, but it was completely unmistakeable. It was out of shape, and there was a pull on one sleeve that Lizzie remembered worrying at with agitated fingers. As she turned it over and examined the left arm, she found two small holes at the elbow. Almost without realising what she was doing, she brought it to her face and breathed deeply, but there was no longer any trace of the scent it had once. It just smelled of a long time in storage.
Bringing it down to the bed, she carefully smoothed it out, recalling the way it had felt, and the night that had led to it being in her possession. She still couldn’t quite believe, after all the years that had passed, that she was looking at Simon Treloar’s old, black, worn-out woollen jumper.
10
‘Lizzie! Are you here?’
Bee’s voice snapped Lizzie out of her reverie, and, feeling guilty for snooping, she hastily shoved Simon’s jumper and the two dresses into the carrier bag, and threw it to the back of the cupboard. She knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, really, but she still felt as though she had.
