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Lily didn’t have many friends, not really. She was popular at school, being a kind girl who loved flowers. People liked her – it was easy. Who didn’t like a girl obsessed with flowers?
The thing was, she was left behind. Because Westfield was a small village, people moved on. Few moved in, though the ones who did tended to stick, once they fell in love with the countryside. After school, there was college, university, travelling. The next steps in life that people took, when they left the nest. Lily had waved off every one of her friends, one by one, and watched them fly off, while she clung to the sticks of her parental home. The point was, until yesterday, she had never really minded. Even Simon had left, but now he was back, called to his roots. Eager to set down some of his own.
Until Roger had spoken those words. Take a chance, for once in your life. The sentence haunted her. For once in your life. That was just the thing. She never had taken a chance. Sure, she had her own business now, but the truth was, she had been destined to have the shop since she was born. Her parents helped her save up her deposit, guaranteed her loan. The pampered princess way of earning a living, really.
The shop thrived, had for years, and it was a pretty safe investment. She knew the shop by heart, having had many of her first milestones either here or in the house she had lived in all her life. Even when she went to college, she was a short bus ride away, and her dad had ferried her in half the time, on his way to a delivery. She had been sheltered like a bird born in captivity, happy with its lot in life, till they heard the songs from the forests nearby. That sentence was a song in the forest, and now Lily couldn’t block out the noise it had produced.
Stepping out of the shower, she slung on her robe and dashed into her bedroom to get ready. She wanted to get to work early, to compose herself for her morning coffee date/meeting/awkward experience. Stuart hadn’t even called last night, since she put the phone down on him, and she knew he was either letting her cool off or still scratching his head trying to work out what had gone on. Either way, she just hoped he remembered she was busy today. She would deal with him later. Once she had worked out in her own mind just what she was doing.
Downstairs, Irvin was sitting at the kitchen island, spreading damson jam onto hot buttered toast. Lily smiled at her dad, who looked a little like Danny DeVito, with the wit of Ricky Gervais. Her mother, in comparison, looked more like Glenn Close. Beautiful, tall, and thin with an elegance to her that you didn’t learn from any magazines. Lily was an odd combination of the two: having inherited her mother’s good bone structure and body proportions, and her father’s odd sense of humour and general lack of grace.
Stuart had taken her golfing once, early on in their dating life. She thought it had gone quite well, but she hadn’t been asked back. She was too embarrassed to ask the reason why. She assumed that her hitting the duck in the pond with a stray shot wasn’t a factor. Or the dent she had put into Stuart’s prized chariot.
Whatever the reason, she never went to the golf club any more, and Stuart seemed reluctant to have her there again. A shame really, because with a bit of work on the gardens, it would be a fantastic wedding venue. Not that she had mentioned that to him, of course. She was starting to realize that Stuart wasn’t big on talking about wedding plans, but which guy was? It was a badly kept secret that the groom just pretty much turned up on the day, and had no clue about what a centrepiece was, let alone what type of flowers were involved. Why would Stuart be different?
She kissed her dad on the top of his head, and he patted her arm.
‘Morning, darling, sleep well?’
Lily nodded. ‘Not bad, I have an early start today so I need to get cracking. Where’s Mum?’
She saw her dad’s face drop a little. ‘Still asleep I think. You know she moved into the spare room, don’t you?’
Lily nodded. ‘Judging from the amount of face creams in my bathroom, I gather she means to stay there too.’
Irvin winced, and her heart went out to him.
‘I know, I know. Your mother is a stubborn woman. She always has been.’
Lily rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t see you trying to sort things out either, Dad. It’s been a while since you two have even talked, you know?’
He nodded and seemed to be about to say something when his wife walked into the room. She looked tired, and a little gaunt, and Lily saw that her dad seemed taken aback.
‘Talking about me, were you?’ she said sniffily. ‘I do live here too you know.’
Lily groaned. ‘Mum, we weren’t talking about you, not like that. It’s just that you seem so unhappy.’
‘Me unhappy!’ Lizzie proclaimed. ‘I’m fine!’
Irvin shook his head. ‘No, Lizzie, you’re not.’
Lily looked from one parent to the other, wishing herself from the room. It was looking like another breakfast from the fruit bowl dash.
Lizzie sighed, looking all the more tired, and straightened up her dressing gown.
‘Well, Irvin, whose fault is that, eh?’
***
They both looked at each other, lost in what they wanted to say and what they felt the other wanted to hear.
‘Let’s face it, Irvin, we are not getting on.’
Irvin went to shake his head, but Lizzie held up a hand to silence him. ‘You know I’m right.’ Irvin nodded slowly, dropping his slice of toast back onto his plate, with a ching on the bone china.
‘This retirement was supposed to be a new start – our time. We had so many plans, and what happened? Nothing!’
Irvin stood up from the stool, walking over to his wife. They stood a foot apart, but Irvin didn’t come any further. They looked each other up and down, neither knowing what to say next. He broke first.
‘Do you want a cup of tea?’
Lizzie looked at her husband in shock. Had it really come to this? Them offering each other food and beverages in perpetuity, till one of them shuffled off the mortal coil? She suddenly pictured them, wizened and grey, sat like bookends at each end of the fireplace, rotund from too many biscuits. She looked around, realizing that Lily was gone. She felt a pang of shame. Their poor daughter had obviously fled after yet another awkward morning.
She took a step back, shaking her head. ‘No, Irvin, I bloody well do not.’ She looked at him one more time, like he had just stepped out of a spaceship before her eyes, and flounced off down the hall.
***
Irvin was left in the kitchen, listening to the kettle click off in the silence. Like an automaton, he walked to the appliance, pouring the hot water onto the teabag in his favourite cup. As he stirred in the milk, he had a pang for his old life, the one where they rushed about, busy lives intertwined. Many a time they had snuggled on the sofa together, exhausted from work and raising their daughter, and been content to just read a book or watch a film together.
Now, they sat in separate rooms, their house sterile, impersonal. Funny how things changed. Irvin wasn’t a fan, it had to be said. He sighed, sitting back down at the island stool. He just didn’t know how to fix it. The thing was, retirement was terrifying him. He didn’t feel ready to curl up and coast through the rest of his life reading the paper. Five minutes later, he was still nursing his tea when the front door slammed shut.
***
Lily crept out of the house like a stealth ninja, almost snagging her thick tights on the rosebush as she darted across the drive to her van. Looking at the expansive front drive, she clicked her car open. Quietly closing the door behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her little pink van was always sandwiched between her parents’ cars these days. Mum’s smart little Mini and Dad’s Volvo were normally tucked up together on the drive, but now even her van was some kind of referee between their warring vehicles.
At this point, Lily was glad that she was an only child for the first time in her life. Having brothers and sisters would have been lovely, but given this situation, she wasn’t sure that other casualties of war would have been a good thing. She turned on the engine and flicked on the radio. Reaching for a battered CD case in her door pocket, she pulled out a black CD and fed it into the player. A moment later, heavy metal blared out of the speakers and Lily pulled off the drive. A nice bit of music to blast the anger out of her before she started work.
Heading further into Westfield, Lily waved at various people as normal. Heading past the greengrocer’s, she saw Simon writing the day’s offers on the blackboard outside. Pulling up, she wound her window down. Simon jumped up, pretending like a mime artist to be blasted away with the force of the music. Lily laughed and flicked the stereo off.
‘Sorry,’ she tittered. ‘I forgot you have no taste in music.’
Simon held his hands to his chest like she had shot him. ‘Your words hurt you know, Lilypad.’
Lily rolled her eyes. ‘Oh go and cry to your One Direction records,’ she countered, pretending to wipe her teary eyes with her closed fists.
Simon snorted. ‘What can I do for you this fine morning? You still needing those jobs doing? ’Cos I tell you, I am a little busy at the minute, but I will try at the end of the month.’
Lily nodded. ‘I figured as much. So much for having my friend back from the fast lane. How’s it going with your girlfriend?’
Simon blushed and Lily realized that her friend must really be smitten. Since school, she had only seen him act that way before when Mrs Lambert had popped a button on her blouse during chemistry. It was quite a scandal, she remembered. Howard Lee had fainted, although the school had put that down to the heat from the Bunsen burners. Everyone in 9C knew different, of course. He had been nicknamed ‘Wooey Howey’ for a whole year after. Not surprising that he was a plastic surgeon now. He probably owed his career to Mrs Lambert’s breasts.
‘It’s going well,’ he stammered, clearing his throat. Lily smiled at him, and he grinned back sheepishly. He never really dated while he was away studying; Simon wasn’t the type to be a player. This girl meant something, and they both knew it.
‘I need to meet her!’ she said before she could stop herself. ‘Let’s have a night out!’
Simon looked surprised. ‘What, you mean an actual night out, with drinks and dancing?’
‘Don’t be a git,’ she scolded. ‘I mean it – let’s arrange it. I would love to meet her, and we haven’t caught up in ages.’
Simon shifted from foot to foot, looking at the ground.
‘What’s wrong?’ Lily asked, suddenly concerned. ‘You and her okay?’
‘Me and Elaine?’ His face lit up at the mention of her name, and she was so happy for her friend. When all the others had left, Simon had stayed in touch, learning his trade as an architect, nipping back when he could to pitch in with the business and see his parents. He was always there to talk to, and she was so pleased he had met someone. As kids, they had a lot in common with their parents’ businesses and expectations, and they had soon fallen into an easy friendship that had lasted through puberty and beyond.
Their parents did think that they might get together at one point, with the amount of time they spent together, but for Lily and Simon, it was unthinkable. They were as like brother and sister as two friends could be. Simon knew her as well as she knew herself, most of the time.
‘No, we are great, it’s just …’ He looked so awkward, and she realized just what had caught his tongue.
‘It’s Stuart, isn’t it,’ she stated flatly. Simon shrugged, pulling an apologetic grimace.
‘It’s just, you know, me and him, together … all night …’ He looked so nervous, and Lily knew he was not trying to upset her. Simon and Stuart had spent a fair bit of time together over the years, but they had never really gelled. It was still at the polite ‘hey up’ stage, and then the words pretty much dried up. Not even sport, the universal conversation opener of men worldwide, had bridged the gap between them.
There had been no thrown punches or beaten chests, but the nights always ended up being damp squibs when the two of them were in a room together. Not even Lily could get them to interact in any meaningful way, and she had resigned herself to having them only meet on special occasions. Given that she would want Simon as her ‘male of honour’ should the wedding ever actually happen, it was a touchy subject for everyone.
‘Okay, okay, no Stuart,’ Lily concurred. ‘I can play third wheel, be worth it to meet her.’
Simon looked relieved. ‘Great, shall we say Friday?’
Lily nodded. ‘Sounds great. Let’s do it.’
She waved goodbye, pulling away as Simon held up his hands in mock horror at her music. She flipped him the bird and turned it higher. What was it about Stuart that seemed to rub people up the wrong way?
CHAPTER FIVE (#ud8fad6ef-4a84-5c11-ae60-001f8d220862)
Will Singer looked every inch the thirty-two-year-old man he was. The bathroom mirror rarely did anyone any favours, but this particular winter morning it appeared to be magically channelling the mirror from Snow White in terms of stark clarity and downright truth. Who’s the hottest man of them all? Certainly not you, dude.
He had badly needed a shave. People were starting to comment on it, but the clean-shaven Will was not a great improvement. At least his dark stubble had detracted from the huge Kardashian-sized luggage wedged under his eyes. Without his hairy mask, Will felt naked, unable to hide.
Even worse was the fact that the lack of hair on his face left people free to roam over his other features, in particular the mop of hair sprouting from his head. He looked like Lionel Messi mixed with Mufasa the lion. It did well for them, but Will wasn’t sure it was such a great style for him. Any longer and he would have to buy an Alice band like Beckham. Start sporting a man bun. He was pretty sure the villagers had never seen a man bun. It might scare them enough to dust off the pitchforks and torches. He had a sudden vision of his uncle Archie dressed like Braveheart, rallying the twin set and mohair-clad villagers into action from atop a horse. ‘People of Westfield, we shall not lie down and die. The man bun must be destroyed!’
He chuckled to himself at his own humour. He would have to tell Lily that joke later.
He frowned at himself in the mirror, opening the medicine cabinet in desperation. Looking through the arrays of random creams and potions, he picked a fairly normal-looking moisturizing cream and started to massage some into his rather green-looking cheeks. Turning to his hair, he combed it the best he could, deciding in the end that he had to wear a hat for work anyway, so he could use this as a passable excuse this time.
Of course, there was nothing to say that there would be a next time at all. There shouldn’t even be a first time, but here he was, getting himself ready for the first date he had been on in years. A coffee date, in the daytime. Nothing too bad. Nothing that he should reproach himself too much for. He was just glad that the butterflies in his stomach and the elated feeling he experienced at the prospect of seeing her again were invisible to others. He could keep denying them to himself, but it wouldn’t be as easy if his feelings were on display. Will was more than used to keeping his cards close to his chest. Lily just made him feel like he wanted to show her his hand, and that feeling alone told him he had to be more careful than usual.
‘Just a coffee, Will, just a little chat, a drink, and then leave.’
He had meant to ask her advice that morning – he had been meaning to ask her for a while, but he wasn’t sure how to approach it, and whether he was playing with fire by asking her at all. He already knew, he didn’t really have to ask this particular person, but he had reasoned it in his head loosely enough to convince himself it was at least half plausible. It was the perfect excuse.
If he was truthful with himself, he would probably pick at the thread in his brain as to why he had taken this course of action, but instead he smoothed the collar of his blue shirt, smoothed down his unruly locks as best he could and, giving the mirror a final look, dashed down the stairs of his home.
Once he’d closed the door behind him, pulling on his coat as he headed down the drive, his mood lifted. He could feel the tension leave his shoulders as he put the keys in the ignition. His neighbour, Mrs Phelps, saw him from her front window and she gave him a little wave and a smile. He returned her wave, not lingering on her face for too long. He tried to keep to himself. It was easier that way, less complicated. Less chance of anyone getting hurt.
He felt the knot between his shoulder blades return. Today was a mistake – he just knew it. Yet he didn’t stop the car; in fact he even sped up a little as he hit the centre of the village. For a second he even thought of stopping for flowers. He laughed at himself when he realized how daft that was, eyeing himself in the mirror.
‘It’s official, Will. You are losing it.’
Pulling up on Foxley Street, he made sure to park a little further down from the florist’s and the coffee shop. He tucked the car out of the way, and then stepped out onto the kerb with unsteady legs. He felt like a teenager sneaking off to do something naughty, like drink vodka in the park when he should be in double maths. Passing the florist’s, he very casually tried to look in through the window without making it obvious, keeping his head studiously pointed in front of him. He couldn’t see Lily, just a customer being served by the enigmatic Roger who worked there. He thought the guy raised his eyebrows at him through the window, but with the cold air stinging his eyes he couldn’t be sure.
He walked into the café, the warm air hitting him immediately, bringing with it a smell of coffee and baked goods. It was a similar layout to the florist’s, but not as open plan, and its double front allowed for a large kitchen and serving area, leaving ample space for some comfy sofas and low tables in the front.
There were a couple of older ladies sat by the door, chatting away with a full tea service laid out on the table. Will noticed that one of them was knitting furiously, not even glancing at her busy needles. He spotted Lily then, sitting on a low sofa right in the back, her head bent over a book. He took a breath as he watched her from the doorway.
She was wearing a pair of black-rimmed reading glasses that framed her heart-shaped face, and made her straight hair look a lighter shade of blonde than usual. She often had her hair tied in a loose bun, but today he noticed she had it brushed down. It was longer than he’d thought, and he wondered how else she would differ from what he was used to seeing at the florist’s week in and week out.
She was utterly engrossed in what she was reading, and he wondered what it was that had her interest. He realized he was standing agog in the entrance when he heard a soft polite cough behind him, and as he murmured his apologies, shuffling aside, she spotted him. Her face lit up with a friendly smile, and she hurriedly thrust her book into her bag as she stood. Will managed to see the cover before it was pushed out of his view. He found himself grinning back at her.
She seemed genuinely chuffed to see him, and he realized that no one had greeted him like that in a long time. It made his body tingle with warmth, although that could be put down to his body finally warming up from the cold. He motioned for her to stay sitting down, and he walked over. He noticed that the cougher behind him had joined two other ladies, and he felt three pairs of eyes following him with interest as he made his way over. He ignored the whispers, hoping it was just his imagination that they were discussing him.
‘Hi,’ he said gently. Lily was sat with both hands on her knees now, and he noticed with a pang that she was wearing an engagement ring. He hadn’t noticed it before, and he wondered if it was a new development. He cursed himself for not seeing it before. Of course she has someone, he scolded himself. Pot, kettle?
‘Hello,’ she replied softly. ‘Do you want a coffee?’
He shrugged her off. ‘No, I’ll get them. Caramel latte, right?’
She looked surprised and nodded, blushing a little.
‘Thank you.’
Wow. I would buy her a caramel latte every day for the rest of her life if she blushed like that. He felt his own cheeks warming, and he nodded stiffly, heading to the counter before he made a fool of himself. He caught sight of the ladies as he turned, and they were still watching him. They looked amused, and he suddenly got the feeling that this café was somewhat of a fishbowl for the locals. His uncle Archie had warned him that Westfield was a bit close-knit, but he had laughed it off at the time. His uncle’s words were something along the lines of ‘Watch your back, the women folk are mad round here. Have you hitched up before you can draw breath, if ya let ’em.’
Archie had then realized what he had said, and patted his nephew on the shoulder in a conciliatory gesture. ‘You know what I mean, lad. Keep your business private eh, better for everyone that way.’
Coffees ordered, he added on an order of fruit toast, realizing that it was still only quite early and she might be a bit peckish. He hadn’t eaten either, so he ordered enough for them both. His stomach rumbled as he stood there, and he hoped no one would hear it before he ate something to pacify the grumbling. The waitress offered to bring it over, so he went to sit down, making sure to choose the sofa across from her, rather than doing what he wanted to do, which was snuggle up on hers. She was watching him when he turned around, but looked away so quickly he wasn’t sure if he imagined it.
***
Busted. Lily winced inwardly. He had been getting the coffees in, and she had been trying to work out what his bottom looked like under his winter coat. He was dressed nicely, a shiny pair of black lace-up boots with a smart pair of dark trousers, topped off with a stylish black coat, and black and white checked scarf. He had his hat on as usual, and she wondered whether he wore it all the time, or whether it was just part and parcel of the January cold.
He came back over, standing in front of the opposite sofa, and as if he had been reading her thoughts, he pulled off his scarf and coat. He turned slightly, folding them over the back of the couch, and she not only got to look at his shapely behind, but she saw a glimpse of his front, too. As he lifted his arm to pull off his hat, his dark blue shirt rode up a little, flashing a peek of a washboard stomach, separated by a thin line of dark hair, which disappeared into his belt. Happy trails indeed. A girl could don a cowboy hat to ride that.
Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline at the sight, and she snapped her gaze away quickly to regain her composure before she sat down. Looking across the café at, well, anything but his taut stomach, she locked eyes with a grey-haired lady who was knitting. If Lily hadn’t been so flustered, she would be convinced that the woman was laughing at her, but she pushed the thought from her mind.
‘So,’ he said, bringing her attention back to him. ‘I realized this morning that I didn’t even introduce myself the other day. I’m Will Singer.’
He held out a hand to shake hers. She took it, and jumped as a shock passed between them, like static. He seemed to jump too, but he didn’t let go. In fact, his grip tightened a little. She looked straight at him in surprise, and saw that he was looking right back at her with his large puppy dog eyes.
‘Hi, Will,’ she breathed a little too quietly. ‘I’m Lily Baxter.’
He nodded, giving her hand a tiny shake in greeting. He clenched his fist a little tighter, moulding her hand into his, and her engagement ring – which was a little loose since Stuart had neglected to get her size, or get it adjusted – dug into her pinkie finger. She wasn’t mad at the time; after all, asking for a girl’s ring size is a bit of a giveaway. Unless he could have stolen one off her finger, how else would he have found out? She should just get it adjusted herself, but that would involve asking him who made the ring, and she didn’t want to get into yet another financial conversation with him about the cost of the ring, blah blah blah. Money was always a little bit of a sticking point in their relationship.
She realized that Will was looking at her ring himself, and she broke the grip as quickly as she could. She was about to explain, mention Stuart, but the waitress came to the table with their order on a tray and they both sat back on their respective sofas, the spell broken. Lily clasped her hands together on her lap, covering her trinket, suddenly feeling as though the band was on fire.
‘Hello, Lily Baxter.’ To his credit, Will never skipped a beat in the conversation. ‘So, how’s your day going so far?’
‘Pretty rubbish, as it goes,’ she replied, picking a piece of fluff from her midnight blue dress and reaching for her coffee. Wait – what? She flicked her eyes to his as she took a deep gulp of her latte. It nearly burned her tongue out, but she pushed the pain away and tried to act cool. He was peering at her intently, a faint smirk playing across his lips.
