Page 193 of Never Tell Secrets

“Yeah, so am I.” I didn’t think there would ever be a day when I wasn’t proud of Alfie Tell. I saw him in the cracks in my walls, heard his step in the creak of my broken floorboard. I closed my eyes, conjuring up a memory of him, any memory that wanted to come to me. Just like that, I could feel his skin on mine.

Yes, I missed him. But it also felt right that he was gone. I didn’t doubt that he was out there somewhere, remembering my obsession with blueberry muffins, my hair that he loved so much.

I knew he would keep me safe in his memories the way I would always keep him. He would stay a gentle possibility, a hope no louder than the flutter of a hummingbird's wings. It would sit in my chest, beating its own steady rhythm alongside my heart, a hope that would one day be met, but maybe it never would and that was okay too.

I rolled over, pressing my face into the pillow as sleep came for me. His name was the last thing on my lips, his face the last thing I saw, as it always was, as it ever would be.

Sixty-One

FOUR MONTHS LATER.

“Come on, come on, you stubborn little…” I breathed a sigh of relief as the final wire threaded through the flower adorned mesh holding the base of my sculpture together. Last minute changes and an unexpected wind storm had left her unstable, which was why I’d been working on her under spotlights since one in the morning.

I sat back on my knees, running a critical eye over my work. It was as perfect as it could be but that didn’t stop me searching for flaws.

My hands twisted in my lap. It was here, the day had finally come. The opening day of the Chelsea Flower Show and I was terrified. This was make or break for my career. If I flopped, this event was way too public to hide it.

“She’s impressive.”

I jumped at the familiar voice behind me and turned to see my mentor running an approving eye over my creation.

“Imani! I wasn’t expecting you to be here so early!” I stood, brushing grass from my knees. Imani wasn’t one for hugs and instead pressed a gentle hand to my shoulder.

“I wanted to check on you before the opening,” she said, continuing to study my work. “You’ve outdone yourself. You should be incredibly proud.”

I took a step back, looking at my sculpture, the winged female with the flame hair. She was almost twenty feet tall, her hair made of trailing gerbera daisies, a simple orange flower that took me right back to my roots. The wings extended back and sloped down in a way that reminded me of the extravagant tails of the peacocks at the Never Tell Clubhouse. They were an ebbing sea of orange hues made from marigolds and butterfly weed, falling into waves of deep red begonias and dianthus. The tips made from blood grass mimicked the end of her wings.

“She’s you?”

“She’s me,” I answered.

“With the wings of a phoenix?”

“Yeah,” I shrugged, “maybe it's pretentious but I’ve started over so many times it felt apt.” I thought of every time my life had been upended. My mum, gran, discovering I had a sister and a nephew, leaving my home for London and of course, Alfie. Each time I felt like the change would break me but I only got stronger.

I followed Imani as she circled the piece. I watched her face carefully as she studied it, answering her questions on construction and the materials I’d chosen.

She reached the back of the structure and raised her brows when she discovered a hidden garden between my wings. I followed her through the gap where the wings almost touched and into the circular garden hidden from the view of anyone who might be looking from the front.

Early April sun beamed down on us from above, lighting up the secret garden. I stood by the entrance, giving her room to study the space. Red bleeding hearts trailed up along the inner side of the wings, fading from red to pink to white as they reached the bottom. The ground was honeysuckle grass. An array of other flowers created a comforting haven, a contrast to the vibrant power of the sculpture from the outside. Her exterior was supposed to make you feel awe but inside, you were supposed to feel safe.

“I feel your past in here.” Of course she did, Imani was a very perceptive person. I brushed my fingers over a hanging flower.

“Precious things that I want to keep safe.”

She nodded, understanding. “I’m very pleased. Whatever the outcome today, you should be proud.”

Whatever the outcome.Whether I won in my category or not.

“I am and thank you. For everything.” I wouldn’t be standing in this spot without her support. “So…does your approval mean that you still want to work with me again? You mentioned months ago that you had another project if I did well…”

“I remember but we’ll talk in a few days. I have a feeling you’re going to be flooded with job offers after today.”

The thought made my stomach flutter. “Can you tell me what the project is?”

“Later,”she smiled and checked her watch, “it’s almost time for the gates to open. Are you ready?.” She passed me, heading back out into the sun.

My feet stayed rooted to the earth. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that my mum was near me. Her eyes bright with pride as she asked,‘Are you ready, little Lo?’