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2 MEG

Sitting opposite the man who had now introduced himself as David, Meg was surprised at how the day had turned out. When she left the house that morning, she hadn’t expected to be tear-stained and sharing her entire life story with a stranger in a flower shop.

Often, if you talked about your mum and dad without the loving tone or jokey chiding of most people, you were met with blank expressions. The majority of people, lucky them, just thought their parents were brilliant, but when Meg spoke about growing up here and moving back last year, living closer to her parents again, David seemed to be completely judgement-free. When he asked a question, he leaned forward for the answer, making it clear he was paying attention. He had bushy eyebrows and kept shifting to rearrange his corduroy trousers and sweater vest, but he was still listening to every word she said.

‘So they gave no indication,’ he asked, pushing his glasses to the top of his nose. ‘That they wouldn’t come?’

‘They said they’d be here. Nine-thirty sharp. And they’re punctual people. It’s not like my parents have ever been amazing, but this is my wedding , you know. I’m worried they looked up the shop and stood me up.’

‘Oh.’

‘Sorry,’ she added, looking around. ‘It’s a lovely place.’

It really was. For the first time, she appreciated the sheer volume of flowers and plants that were squeezed into this ordinary-sized building. The shop must be half the size of the small supermarket next door, and yet somehow David had managed to fit in this huge table, the café area and a photo booth. Behind the till was a huge grandfather clock made of wood, surely an antique. She remembered that this shop had been the local pharmacy when she’d been younger. Half of the high street now was made of shops she didn’t recognize. Where there were now a row of bouquets in the front window, there had used to be a marketing-sized prop bottle of shampoo, and Meg remembered the day she’d grown enough to be taller than it.

Perhaps it was the nostalgia of it all that had made her so upset that her parents had stood her up. The message that had set her off crying just before ten o’clock had read: Sorry. We can’t come today. Apologies, Mum and Dad

‘Were they always like this?’ David asked. He lifted his mug at her to offer another coffee, but she waved it away. He got up to make his own. ‘Was it always hard?’

‘They were always subtly homophobic,’ she continued. ‘Saying things about Graham Norton, tutting whenever they talked about gay rights on the news and, well, Lily Savage actually, they always had a problem with. Dad used to say bring back Paul. ’

‘I was concerned about the name,’ David told her, turning back around and raising his voice over the sound of steaming milk. ‘Lily hasn’t performed in years, so I worried people wouldn’t get it, but Mark, that’s my partner, he said Lily was forever.’

‘He’s a smart man,’ Meg said, remembering how fascinated she had been as a child by the big blonde wigs and Lily’s spindly legs. ‘How long have you been together?’

‘Nearly twenty years,’ David said. ‘We met when we were mid-thirties, up north, through some mutual friends. The time will fly by.’ David clicked his fingers. ‘Enjoy everything, because soon as you know it, you’ll be counting in decades.’

‘And you’re still happy?’

‘Happier than ever, actually.’ David reached out to her. ‘Which you will be too. I promise, nothing lasts forever.’

‘Are you married?’

‘No, it’s … We’re good as we are.’ David pushed his reading glasses up his nose. ‘Now, you were telling me about your parents. Keep going, if you want. I always find it’s better to offload.’

‘Well, both my parents were teachers, and still are. They teach at St Helens.’

‘Mark works there; he’s the school counsellor. Maybe he knows them.’

‘Maybe,’ Meg said. She didn’t know how she felt about other people talking about her parents. It wasn’t embarrassment at their faults but that she didn’t want to hear from anyone else how nice they were either. She shook the complex thought from her head. ‘When I was a kid, you know, they said some bad things, when they had no idea they had a little gay child in the room, but everyone did that when I was young. It wasn’t like they were the exception.’

‘I see.’

‘Then they were terrible when I came out, actually,’ she continued, swirling the murky dregs of her coffee around in the mug. This was always really hard to talk about but David was older than her and things must have been worse for him, she presumed, perhaps unkindly. She hoped he’d understand. ‘There was lots of crying, and saying I’d disappointed them, or that I was just going through a phase. That’s what Mum said. Still something she says, actually, hoping me and my teenage boyfriend will get back together.’

‘Any chance?’ David asked, smiling.

‘No, we were never actually going out.’ Meg exhaled. ‘He’s gay too. We kind of just let them think we were. I’ve never had the heart to tell them.’

David smiled at her.

‘I still call him an ex, you know,’ Meg said. ‘We kissed; we held hands. Almost like trying it one last time, before knowing it’s not for you.’

‘I had some girlfriends like that.’

‘He still lives around here, on Cressida Street.’

‘Lovely houses on that road,’ David joked. ‘Don’t rule him out too soon.’

Meg laughed, and wiped some tears from her face with the sleeve of her jumper as David sat back down next to her.

‘Anyway, then I went off to uni,’ Meg continued. ‘Best years of my life. Far away from here, up in Scotland. Saw them for Christmas and birthdays. Met Hannah. The last few years, moving back, I thought we were better than ever. Hannah was happy too; obviously she doesn’t want difficult in-laws. They weren’t jumping up and down when we told them about the engagement, but they seemed happy. I’ve got a cake tasting on Monday and I guess they’re probably not coming to that now either.’

‘Can Hannah go instead?’ David asked.

‘No, she’s in Italy with work,’ she said. David looked confused. ‘She does events,’ she added.

‘Oh fancy!’

‘No, quite boring,’ Meg said, laughing. ‘Everyone thinks that, but she does the graphics for screens so she’s usually on her laptop in a cupboard somewhere. We both do illustrations, but hers are more computer, graphic-design based. Anyway, that’s why I was relying on them. I thought if I couldn’t do it with her, it should be family.’

The word family nearly set Meg off crying again and so, to distract herself, she stared at what David was doing. While they were talking, David had been using some small contraption to rip leaves and thorns from the stems of his roses.

‘We make the most money from roses, you know. Not a lot, mind you, but they’re still the most popular.’

‘What do you do with the broken ones?’ Meg asked, indicating to her right a small pile of flowers where he’d accidentally broken the stems.

‘We can’t sell them, but I put them in a little vase on the counter usually. Take them home or give them out sometimes. It would make me too sad to bin them.’

Meg watched the pile of flowers building, thinking how David seemed to be able to turn any negative into a positive. She wished she had that skill.

He looked at her. ‘What are you going to do about the cake appointment?’

‘Maybe I need to rethink the whole thing,’ she said. I can’t do all these jobs on my own; it’ll be miserable.’

‘Do you have anyone else who can go?’

‘We’ve only just moved,’ Meg said. ‘We’ve got friends but they’re all back in London and busy with husbands and kids. I haven’t really made any friends in the area. I was actually thinking of getting in touch with my ex …’

David stared at the small pile of broken roses, deep in thought. Meg wondered if she had outstayed her welcome, whether he was keen to get on with his day, or whether she was preventing customers from coming in. She didn’t know much about business but she knew seeing someone crying would stop her going into a shop.

‘What if I came with you?’

‘What?’

David sat up in his chair and swept the useless leaves into the bin. ‘I never got married. I’d be interested to see what happens. Any of these appointments, while you sort things out with your family, I could come. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to go alone.’

‘But …’ Meg said. She didn’t know what to say. ‘Would you … Don’t you have the shop? I can’t ask you to do that.’

‘You’re not asking me, I’m offering.’ David smiled. ‘It’s different.’ He got up from the table and carried the bin from behind the counter back to where they were sitting. ‘Eating cake with a new friend isn’t exactly a chore. We could do Monday and see how it goes. We don’t open on Mondays anymore so I’m free.’

He walked around the shop, looking for a vase. ‘It was actually to save money, opening for longer on the other days and …’

‘That’s really kind of you, David, but …’

Part of her wanted to accept this man quickly into her life, send him a wedding invitation, or even jump across the table and hug him for all the kindness he had shown a complete stranger, but this wasn’t what she had pictured for her wedding. She wanted her own parents; she wanted to be normal.

‘Thanks …’ She hesitated. ‘But I just need a little think about all of this. I’ll be back! Well, presuming we go ahead, I mean. I’ll probably be back.’

‘All right, pe—’ David said. ‘Sorry, I nearly called you petal. Mark always says I can’t call people petal , not in here, too silly. But, Meg , if you need to talk, at any point, I’ll be here. Except Mondays.’

‘Thanks,’ said Meg. ‘How much do I owe you for the coffee, and the …’

‘It’s on the house.’

‘No.’

‘I absolutely insist.’

‘You can’t.’

‘I can,’ David said, standing up from the chair to see her out. ‘It’s my shop.’

‘All right,’ Meg said. ‘Well, thank you.’

‘Good luck, Meg,’ he said. When she got to the door, she turned back round to look at this kind man surrounded by plants. ‘There’s so much more to your life than what your parents think it should be. Remember that.’