Page 54 of Paradise Pride

Her mother nodded but pushed the salad bowl towards her anyway, encouraging her to pile even more food onto her plate. “Have you booked your flight to London yet?”

“Yes. I’m leaving in a month.” Florence scooped as little salad as she could get away with onto her plate. “I’ve found a room in a house share too, but I’ll be staying with Dad for the first couple of nights before I get the keys.”

“That’s good. Is your father okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine. You know Dad—always working.” The subject of her father as well as her leaving for the winter was always touchy, so Florence decided not to elaborate. If it was up to her mother, she’d be living here all year round, and being closer to her mother than her father, the end of the season was never easy for Florence either. Although she and her mother often met up for a coffee in town, she preferred coming to her mother’s apartment for dinner once a week. Located between Benidorm and Altea, they had moved there after the divorce, and it had felt a little small when Florence still lived at home, but it was perfect now her mother was alone. The living room was always cool in the summer, and in the winter, the little wood burner kept the intimate space warm. Decorated with typical Spanish sturdy, rustic, wooden furniture, carved wooden doors, an archway that led into the kitchen and local terracotta tiles on the floor, it was the opposite to her father’s modern apartment in London, but it felt so much more like home.

“And you?” her mother asked. “How are you? I’ve seen less of you lately, but I find it hard to believe you’re doing overtime since the season’s practically over.” She paused, clearly gauging if Florence was open to talking today. “I’ve also noticed your aura is off. You’re sad. Is it love related?” She looked Florence up and down. “Don’t lie to me, I can tell by the green around your heart. It’s diluted.”

“No. I’m just dealing with some stuff.” Florence focused on her food and braced herself to eat at least half of it. “It’s no big deal,” she lied, still missing Meghan every minute of the day.

“Well, I’m your mother, and I’d like to know if something’s bothering you. Is it a boy or a girl?”

Florence hated it when her mother used the terms ‘boy’ and ‘girl’. It made her feel like a teenager. “A woman,” she finally said. “It’s over. It was only short-lived, and I’ll be fine. I just need some time.”

“Who is she?”

“Someone who was staying at Paradise. An English tourist.” She sat back and sighed, meeting her mother’s eyes. “I’d rather not talk about it. It’s not going to change anything.”

“A little motherly advice might make you feel better.”

I doubt that, Florence thought, but she didn’t have the heart to say so. “Her name is Meghan, and she’s from London. We were seeing each other while she was staying at Paradise, and I got my hopes up. I really liked her, but it’s over.”

“Why? What went wrong?”

“She was straight before she came here.”

“Before she met you?” The expression on her mother’s face would have been funny in any other situation, and for a moment, Florence thought she was going to laugh, but instead, she gave her a warm smile. “I’m not surprised. You’re special. You’ve always had a wonderful aura of love and energy surrounding you. You glow, you know that?”

Florence suppressed a groan. Her mother’s life revolved around auras, crystal healing and alternative medicine, while Florence was sceptical and tended to brush off her mother’s observations. “My wonderful aura wasn’t enough, I’m afraid.”

Her mother regarded her with interest. “I haven’t seen you like this since you broke up with that boy. What was his name again?”

“Juan. I saw him a few weeks ago. He’s getting married.”

“Yes, Juan. Good for him. He’s a lovely soul.” Her mother paused. “Are you not going to see Meghan when you’re in London?”

“No. As I said, there’s no point. Meghan’s not ready, and even if she was, I doubt I’d be enough for her. She’s ten years older, and she’s got a real job and a real life.”

“Nonsense. Every job is real and valid, and so is every life. You know it, I know it, and she knows it.” Her mother stood up. “Wait here. I have something for you.” She headed through the kitchen and into what Florence suspected was her bedroom before returning with a black velvet pouch. “This is for you. I tried to give it to you after you broke up with…what was he called?”

“I literally just told you, Mum.”

Her mother narrowed her eyes, digging through her recent memory. She’d never been good with names. “Juan,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “See? I remember. You didn’t want it back then. Perhaps you weren’t spiritually mature enough, but you are now, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

Florence opened the pouch and pulled out a chunky, light-pink crystal. “What’s this?” she asked, even though she knew exactly what it was. She’d picked up on more than she liked to admit over the years and could easily identify over a hundred different crystals.

“It’s rose quartz,” her mother said, confirming her suspicion. “Rose quartz is a master healer, associated with the heart chakra.” She folded her hand over Florence’s, who was holding it. “The heart chakra is—”

“I know, Mum.”

“I know you do, honey, but let me finish and refresh your memory anyway. The heart charka is off when we’re traumatised, wounded or broken. And when we’re in recovery, we need to heal the heart chakra. Take my word for it.” She took the crystal from Florence and held it up against the lamp over the dining table. “See the colour? That’s the colour of love in its purest form. It radiates healing, self-care and self-love, as well as love for others. Do you know what happens when you squeeze quartz?”

Florence shrugged. “Nothing?”

“Keep your scepticism to yourself for now, okay?” Her mother shot her a warning look before she continued. “When we squeeze quartz, it gives off a tiny electric current, almost like it’s acknowledging the contact. You can look it up. It’s been scientifically proven. Quartz reacts to us and our emotions, and in return, we can charge this amazing creation of nature and use it as support to heal our wounds. Connected with the feminine divine, I would say that in your situation, this is the perfect crystal for you, right here and right now.”

Florence managed a smile and took the crystal back. It felt warm in her hands, like it had immediately adapted to her body temperature. “Thanks, Mum,” she said. “I know you mean well and that this is your lifestyle. I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not the kind of person to heal myself with a crystal. I feel like shit, and only time and distraction will change that.”

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