Page 27 of Finding Love at Roseford Blooms
Sarah dropped her gaze to her mug. ‘You don’t understand how it was when we were teenagers. How hard it was to fit in. To not be the one that stood out. That school… there was just so much pressure.’
‘That doesn’t exactly answer my question.’
Defiantly, Sarah looked back up at him. ‘Don’t. You were just so fucking oblivious to everything, weren’t you? To how awful it was to be surrounded by all of those girls, judging you, making you feel small for the slightest thing. Of course I tried to fit in, and I won’t have you condemning me for that.’
‘And didtrying to fit inmean victimising other people?’ Simon replied. ‘Other people who were just as vulnerable as you, if not more so?’
‘Oh, please,’ Sarah retorted. ‘You’ve got her version of something that happened decades ago. It wasn’t as bad as all that.’ Something in Sarah’s eyes gave her away though, and Simon immediately knew that it had beenexactlyas bad as Lizzie had made out.
‘I believe her,’ Simon said softly. ‘I know that upsets you, sis, but I do. So the question is, how much did you know?’
The silence stretched interminably between them.
‘I knew that Nina was up to something,’ Sarah said quietly. ‘I knew that Lizzie had only been invited because Georgina had. I didn’t know what exactly Nina had planned until she brought Lizzie into the living room and switched on the lights. And for that I’m sorry.’
‘You could have gone after Lizzie!’ Simon said brutally. ‘Instead of sitting by, watching her become the victim of Nina’s bullying. You could have stood up for her, Sarah. Why didn’t you?’
‘You make it sound so simple!’ Sarah exclaimed. ‘Have you no memory of what it’s like to be a teenager? And it was so long ago, Simon. Don’t you think I’ve thought, over the years, about how we treated Lizzie? Don’t you think I already feel bad enough? If I could change it now, I would, but I can’t. It happened. We were a horrible group of girls. We allowed something terrible happen. But it’s done… over. There’s nothing I can do.’
‘You can apologise to Lizzie for your part in it.’ Simon stood up from the table. ‘It’s not too late for that.’
As he walked from the room, he paused. Then, more gently, he added, ‘And I do get it, Sarah. You weren’t the only one who found school a nightmare. Maybe those scars stay with us a whole lot longer than we think.’
Later on, as he perused the invitation from Cross Dean School for the thousandth time since he’d received it, he wondered if it might just be time to face his own fears.
23
In the week leading up to what Simon had only half-jokingly dubbed ‘The Wedding of the Year’, both Lizzie and Simon were preoccupied with their different roles in the proceedings. Lizzie was helping Bee out with the floral arrangements. Some could be done a few days in advance, so long as they were kept cool and hydrated, and some would have to be done the night before, and finished off on the day.
The long, hot summer continued; long, sunny days led into warm, sweet nights, infused by the scents from Bee’s garden drifting in through the window as Lizzie dozed. Since their kiss, her mind kept replaying the moment with Simon. They’d kissed a great deal that night, but both had stopped short of taking things further. Simon, ever the gentleman, had walked her back to Bee’s cottage later that night, with a promise to call her. They’d spoken and texted since, but hadn’t managed to spend any significant time together. Being in the same village but unable to snatch more than a few moments together was deliciously frustrating, but it seemed unavoidable, as the last preparations for the wedding were under way.
Unfortunately, Simon had been caught up with yet more admin to do with the chapel, and the arrangement of the day, and she’d been working alongside Bee, learning more and more about the day-to-day running of Roseford Blooms. Bee had a student from Cannington College with her to assist her with the vast floral demands of the wedding and, with Lizzie acting as an extra pair of hands, they were all kept busy.
Lizzie had to concede she was enjoying being part of the business and she was feeling more and more at home in Roseford Blooms. Watching Bee, admiring her artistry as she brought to life the concepts that Serena and Montana wanted for the wedding, was not only therapeutic but inspiring. Lizzie found herself wanting to spend more time in this world where flowers were not just admired for their beauty, but also had meaning, and when she found a book on the Victorian language of flowers on the shelf at Bee’s house, she devoured it.
This did not go unnoticed by Bee. Late afternoon, on the day before the wedding, Bee paused in her creation of the buttonholes.
‘You’re nearly as fast as I am with these now,’ she said, wrapping the green finishing tape around the one she was working on and popping it into the box. ‘You’ve really got the hang of them.’
Lizzie smiled. ‘It’s a lot easier now I’ve got rid of the sling.’ The hospital had advised her to keep it on for at least two weeks, but she’d passed that deadline and was now learning to be without it whenever she could. She still had to be careful: an injury to the collarbone took longer to heal when you were an adult, and it ached if she did too much, but she was relieved to be out of the collar and cuff.
‘Well, I think you’ve got an eye for them. And these roses really are quite beautiful.’ Bee picked up another flower from the pile on the counter and briskly started to prepare it. ‘They’re a variety I haven’t used before, but apparently the colour matches the brides’ dresses to a tee.’
‘I should imagine everything’s been thought through to the nth degree.’ Lizzie laughed. ‘I mean, Montana de Santo isn’t going to risk a hair out of place, is she?’
Bee smiled. ‘I met Montana a few times when she was filming in Roseford. She’s actually a very sweet girl. But she does know what she wants, and, like any bride, she wants her day to be perfect. And Serena, of course, I’ve known since she was born. They make a lovely couple.’
Lizzie put the finishing touches on the buttonhole she was working on and popped it into the box. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing them,’ she said. ‘And I know they’ll love all of these beautiful creations.’ Before she reached for another rose, she looked towards Bee. ‘I’ve really enjoyed helping out in the shop, Aunt Bee. It makes me wish…’ Lizzie trailed off, suddenly unsure about sharing her thoughts.
‘What does it make you wish?’ Bee asked gently.
Lizzie shook her head. ‘Oh, I don’t know. And it’s probably a stupid idea anyway. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, after all.’ She began putting the buttonhole together.
‘Well, I don’t know about old dogs, but you certainly seem to be learning a lot while you’re here,’ Bee replied. ‘And I’m glad you’re enjoying it.’
Lizzie smiled. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I am. I really am. It’s good to be working with something that I can see and feel taking shape in my hands. It’s so different from what I did before, which was all about marketing products that other people had envisioned. Creating things with flowers reminds me how rewarding that process can be.’
‘I think it’s doing you a lot of good,’ Bee observed. Then she laughed. ‘Of course, on a winter’s day, when you have to keep the shop cool to stop the flowers from wilting, it’s not quite so idyllic, or having to improvise because your key delivery hasn’t come in and you’ve a wedding or a funeral arrangement to make.’
