Page 91 of The Little Island Flower Stall
CHAPTER TWENTY
The house was silent when Bella woke the next morning. Most days she’d been roused by the rhythmic thumping of Celestine’s crutches on the floors of Villa Rosa as she got ready to accompany Bella to the flower stall. Not today. She was either sitting down to breakfast already, or she’d decided to sleep in after all.
Bella lay in bed for a while, allowing herself to wake fully before grabbing her phone from the bedside table. There was a new message from Rory.
I understand you don’t want to talk to me and I know I messed up. I’m sorry.
Too right, Bella thought. Despite wanting to reply, she was still convinced that the best course of action was to avoid getting involved with him again, so she ignored it. With a vague dread, she then opened up her email inbox. Sure enough, there was one from Sean’s solicitor – a copy of a letter they’d sent to her parents’ address. At least that ball had started rolling, though she could hardly tell how she felt about it. One thing was certain: she wasn’t looking forward to the fight.
After checking the rest for anything urgent, she locked her phone and stretched. It would be too easy to go back to sleep, but there was work to be done – Celestine was relying on her.
Holding on to that thought, Bella threw off her covers and swung her feet into a pair of slippers. There was a chill in the air, so she grabbed a sweatshirt to pull over her pyjamas before heading to the bathroom.
It was strange that there was no condensation on the tiles as there would usually be if Celestine had been in there first. Bella washed quickly and brushed her teeth, and then went downstairs.
The kitchen was empty and silent. The kettle was cold, and it didn’t look as if anyone had been in here since Bella had turned out the lights the night before. With a vague frown, Bella went back upstairs. She crept across the landing to listen at Celestine’s door. There was no sound.
She wondered for a moment whether she ought to go in and wake her aunt but decided against it. Perhaps she really was struggling to get up this morning. After breakfast, she’d give her a nudge before setting out to open the stall. Celestine would be annoyed if Bella didn’t wake her at all, but that way at least she’d get something of a lie-in, just like Bella had insisted on the previous night.
As quietly as she could, Bella grabbed a bowl of cereal and a cup of tea. Her gaze was on the window as she munched, watching some sparrows build a nest in the jasmine that climbed the garden wall. Her mind was filled with her time on Jersey, a time that was coming to an end sooner than she’d like. It had been mixed – of that there was no doubt – and it had been trying at times, but it had also been wonderful, and it had changed her. The email from Sean’s solicitor had brought the reality waiting back on the mainland crashing down on her, along with the knowledge that the next few months were goingto be messy while they went through their divorce. Where was she going to go from there? She’d promised herself she wouldn’t go back to live with her parents, and she couldn’t stay on Jersey for the same reasons, even if she wanted to. So what next? She supposed she’d have to start looking for a job and a flat and try to rebuild her life.
After breakfast, she went back upstairs and got dressed, and then knocked softly on Celestine’s bedroom door. ‘Hey…are you awake?’
There was no answer.
Bella frowned and knocked again. ‘Celestine…? I’m going to go and open up, but I thought you might want a wake-up call before I go…’
Without waiting for a reply, Bella pushed the door open and peered inside. The curtains were still closed, the morning sun diffused through the fabric to bathe the room in a muted glow. Celestine was lying in bed. She looked so peaceful, Bella considered leaving her to sleep. But then she remembered how insistent her great-aunt had been that she wanted to go to work with Bella, and so went over to the bed.
She paused, her hairs on end and the tingle of dread rushing to her nerve ends as she realised instinctively something wasn’t right. It was then she noticed how still Celestine was.
‘Hey…’
Bella reached to shake her and recoiled. Her aunt’s hand was cold.
‘Celestine…?’ Bella whispered, as if that might wake her, but in her heart, Bella already knew the truth.
Bella sat at the kitchen table, shaking. She hadn’t known what to do apart from to call her dad.
‘Dad… It’s Celestine… She’s dead.’
He’d promised to be there on the next flight, and in the meantime, Bella had collected her senses enough to phone for an ambulance. The notion seemed ludicrous in the circumstances – they could hardly help now – but it seemed like the only option available. It arrived, followed by a police officer who asked Bella lots of questions and then seemed content that all was above board, and then Bella was alone. Celestine had been taken away and the house was silent.
Silent as the grave…
It seemed apt. She had just poured her third cup of tea, wondering whether she was supposed to go and open the flower stall, when there was a knock at the front door. It was tempting to ignore it, but Bella wondered if it might be something to do with Celestine – perhaps the police back to ask more things – and so she pushed herself off the chair and went to get it.
‘Oh…’ she said as she spotted Rory standing in the porch. ‘It’s really not a good time.’
‘I’m sorry for coming here. I went to the stall and it was closed, and I knew your great-aunt’s place was called Villa Rosa, and I thought about not coming, but…I’m sorry, I can’t leave Jersey without talking to you…Bella?’ His forehead creased into a deep frown. ‘You look…Is everything all right?’
She’d wanted to be strong and cold and haughty. When she’d thought about how their paths might cross, she was going to pretend she didn’t care and that she’d never been all that interested in him. But she could never have envisioned meeting him again in such circumstances as these. She couldn’t have imagined that the next time she saw him she’d be in shock – scared, uncertain, devastated, the loss of her great-aunt as raw as it was ever going to be.
She shook her head, tears springing to her eyes and a knot of sorrow in her throat, squeezing so hard she could barely speak.
‘What is it?’ he asked urgently, and she didn’t even notice him cross the threshold and into the hallway until he was there, folding her into his arms. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Celestine,’ was all she could manage before she burst into tears.
