Page 10 of Finding Love at Roseford Blooms
‘I’m here,’ she called back. Hurrying out of her room, she headed to the kitchen, where Bee already had the kettle on.
‘I don’t usually shut up shop for lunch, but I was worried about you when you left this morning,’ Bee said as she turned briefly to smile in Lizzie’s direction. ‘Is your arm hurting still?’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘No, it’s the same old aches and pains.’ She paused. Should she tell Bee why she’d left Roseford Blooms so summarily, after Simon Treloar had come in? Having discovered Simon’s jumper, she felt even more confused.
‘Oh, I see you’ve made some sandwiches already,’ Bee said as she opened the fridge to get the milk for the tea. She pulled out the two cling-filmed packages and put them on the counter.
‘I was going to bring them down to the shop,’ Lizzie said, ‘but I must’ve, er, lost track of time.’
Bee brought the sandwiches to the kitchen table and then poured two steaming mugs of tea.
‘Right,’ Bee said. ‘Now, it goes without saying that you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but I’m pretty sure I know there’s something on your mind, Elizabeth. So, if you want to talk about it, I’m here.’
Lizzie allowed herself a small smile. Bee had never beaten about the bush, but she’d also never aggressively pried into the lives of her nieces. She had that perfect balance of diplomacy and care that made Lizzie instinctively want to open up to her. But it was all too overwhelming at the moment; she couldn’t be sure, in telling Bee what was on her mind, that she wasn’t going to open an emotional can of worms.
‘I appreciate that, Aunt Bee, I really do,’ Lizzie began. ‘Just being here is really helping, honestly.’
‘Well, I’m glad about that,’ Bee replied. ‘But you can’t hide down here forever. You’re going to have to work out what to do next with your life.’
The sense of relief Lizzie felt at that moment almost floored her. Bee clearly hadn’t picked up on her strange reaction to Simon Treloar, and obviously thought, not unreasonably, that her current malaise was down to the car accident and her change in professional and personal circumstances. These were the major issues in her life, after all, she thought, with a sudden, clearer sense of perspective. What did it matter about an old jumper and a bad night twenty-odd years ago?
‘I’ve only been here two days, Aunt Bee.’ Lizzie smiled more broadly. ‘Are you trying to get rid of me already?’
‘Of course not!’ Bee exclaimed. ‘You know you can stay here as long as you want to. I’m just worried about you, darling. I know things between you and your mother aren’t always…easy… and I’m guessing you probably haven’t really spoken to anyone about what’s been happening to you.’ She took a bite of her sandwich. ‘This is marvellous, by the way.’
‘Thank you,’ Lizzie said. She took a nibble at her own, which, considering she’d prepared it with one hand, wasn’t half bad. ‘I’ve never been one to confide in people, you know that.’
‘Unlike your sister.’ Bee raised an eyebrow. Georgina, for all of her warmth and gregariousness, had some serious Ancient Mariner tendencies when it came to the drama in her own life, which had left little room for Lizzie’s problems. She’d improved with age, but Lizzie had learned, early on, to keep things to herself.
‘Georgina was always better at talking things through,’ Lizzie replied diplomatically.
‘Your sister is an open book,’ Bee said, and Lizzie saw the twinkle of amusement in her eyes as she took another sip of her tea. ‘Unlike you.’
‘I’ve never been the confiding type,’ Lizzie said. Although it was strange, she reflected. Her marketing job had meant that she was always talking, nineteen to the dozen, about the products and services that Warner-Basset offered. But that was easy; those were her areas of expertise, built up from years of hard work and dedication. Talking about herself, her own emotions, was a totally different matter.
‘Maybe it’s time you learned,’ Bee said. ‘You’ve been through a great deal in these past few weeks. You can’t pretend that it hasn’t affected you. Talking about it will help you to move on.’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘I don’t know how,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve always just sucked it up and got on with it. It’s something Mum taught me to do, and it’s a difficult habit to unlearn.’
‘I can completely see that,’ Bee replied. ‘And it’s all very well, but whatareyou going to do when your arm’s fixed?’
‘Honestly?’ Lizzie gave a hollow laugh. ‘I’ve got no idea. The sale of the business means I’ve got a lot of options, but I don’t know if starting up on my own again is what I want. I’ve spent my whole career working in marketing. The problem is, I don’t know what else I’m good for.’
Bee regarded her carefully. ‘And the rest of it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, Lizzie, you can’t hide away from how you feel forever. You and Paul split up months ago. Don’t you want to talk about it?’
Lizzie’s temper flared. She knew it was irrational to be angry at Bee, but she really didn’t want to face it now.
‘I don’t need to talk about it!’ Lizzie retorted. ‘What’s done is done. There’s no point brooding on it – on any of it.’
‘That’s what your uncle used to say,’ Bee replied. ‘And I don’t think it’s any coincidence that he dropped dead at forty-seven. You can’t let things eat away at you, you know.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Lizzie knew how much Bee still missed her uncle Matthew, eighteen years after his passing. But she couldn’t face another post-mortem of her own disrupted life. ‘It’s just that… if I talk about it, I’m worried I’ll discover I haven’t really moved on after all. I don’t want it to hurt any more than it already does.’
Bee reached over and squeezed Lizzie’s good hand. ‘I know it doesn’t feel that way right now, but you will heal. You’ve had a rough ride, these past few months, but time will play its part. It always does.’
