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3 DAVID

Sitting at the counter reading his book, David was enjoying a quiet day in the shop. Thursdays were always nice, before the weekend. He’d had a rush during the morning with some of the school-run mums in with their complicated coffee orders and then a late delivery of foliage that had taken six trips to bring into the stockroom at the back. That lunchtime, he’d met with the shop’s accountant. Gloomy news, but best to put it to the back of his mind for now.

With the afternoon came the occasional stranger in off the high street. After an initial greeting, he liked to give people a little bit of space to enjoy the quirks of the shop without being heavy-handed. Mark had once made him perform role play, pretending to be a customer after the shop had closed. His feedback, given gladly and with the hint of a smile, had been that David could be somewhat overfamiliar.

He watched as the late March winds blew all of the trees outside back and forth, the occasional plastic bag or piece of litter making its way past the shop at speed, and people marched or sauntered past, the beginning of the school run and the commute home. It was like his own little TV show, the rectangular framing of the shop’s front window his own screen, and it made it impossibly hard for him to concentrate on reading. He found himself scanning the same page again and again, his mind drifting to Meg and how upset she had been the day before. David kept wondering if she’d come back, either to buy wedding flowers or just to say hello. Had he been too intense to offer to help?

‘David!’ came a voice in the doorway. ‘Long time, no see!’

Standing in the doorway, quickly shutting the wind away behind him, was Carl, one of David and Mark’s good friends. He lived in Milton Keynes, in a modern flat by the canal, and he always looked so much more stylish than either him or Mark, who were always either covered in mud (him) or dressed casually, in order to make the kids he counselled feel like he was approachable (Mark). Carl was wearing a trench coat and heavy NHS-style designer spectacles, which he pushed up his nose as he spoke.

‘I hoped you’d be in.’

‘I’m always here,’ David said, rising to greet his guest. They hugged, kissed each other on the cheek and he led him to a table. He wasn’t technically always there, but David liked the idea anyone could come and see him whenever, and it was always him there before ten, dealing with deliveries and opening up.

‘Well good.’ Carl nodded. ‘How are you doing?’

‘I’m well,’ David said, getting them both a drink from the fridge. ‘Carrying on. Slightly slow month here,’ he continued. ‘But we’re getting by. How’s business? You had that big client come on in January?’

Carl was a copywriter for a large company who did work for many even bigger companies, and was often off to London or to fancy awards ceremonies to celebrate their work. Matty, his slightly younger partner, was a photographer. Together, the two of them always looked like something from a catalogue.

‘Gosh, Matty’s right,’ Carl said. ‘You do have such a great memory. I am busy, yes, but it’s slowing down soon, and then me and Matty are off to Greece week after next, for some early sun.’

‘You booked it!’

‘We finally booked it.’

‘I adore Greece,’ David said, dreaming of feta. ‘Some of the most underrated food, I find.’

‘How’s Mark?’

‘He’s good – he’s busy too. Feels like every kid is after counselling at the minute. He keeps getting back late, since they do appointments after school now too.’

‘Well,’ Carl said. ‘I guess that’s good. Not good, but good they’re getting help. I wish I’d had a Mark when I was growing up.’

‘Me too,’ David agreed, sipping his lemonade. ‘Me too.’

‘How’s Lilies?’ Carl said. ‘Busy?’

‘It’s been really quiet this week,’ David said, thinking of that conversation with the accountant. ‘I’m thinking of new ideas to get us some more custom … Our Valentine’s idea didn’t really work. I’m thinking of setting up a network of local businesses.’

‘That’s a great idea,’ Carl said. ‘Even better, why don’t you connect with other queer businesses?’

‘Oh, maybe.’

‘Don’t be shy; there’s loads out there. I keep going to queer networking events. They’re all the rage. Gives you more of a reason to support each other, and you can do it with companies that do events so they recommend you to their clients.’

‘I guess that does make sense.’

‘Lots to think about,’ Carl said. ‘Let me know if I can lend a hand.’

‘Anyway, what are you in for? Is this a business or a pleasurable visit?’

‘Both please,’ Carl said. ‘I wanted to pick up some roses, for Matty’s birthday.’

David stood to show him the latest arrangements he had, thinking that Carl might take to one of the more unique bouquets in the window he hadn’t been able to sell.

‘No, no, sit down!’ Carl insisted. ‘Let’s have a gossip about our friends first. The most important local network. Have you heard about Angie’s date on Saturday?’

Carl had stayed for about forty minutes, and they had only been interrupted by customers a couple of times. After that, Martha, another old friend, came in to say hello. She taught music lessons at St Helens and was maybe one of David’s more eccentric friends. He didn’t know anyone like her, who cared so little what people thought. She had short blonde hair, and did her make-up with little wings around her eyes. Where Carl was curated, Martha’s coolness was effortless.

After catching up about each other’s lives – Martha had David rolling around laughing with an anecdote about a day she’d plugged the keyboard in wrong, thinking it was broken, when it was actually connected on Bluetooth to the main school’s speakers – David realized Meg had been on his mind all day, and he wondered what Martha thought. Maybe a woman’s perspective was needed.

‘She ended up staying about an hour,’ he said. ‘I think she had calmed down by the end, but she was so upset, crying buckets.’

‘She was crying?’ she asked.

‘She was really crying,’ David said. ‘I couldn’t bear it. Sounds like it was really awful for her, her parents leaving her hanging like that.’

‘Of course.’

‘A wedding should be a happy event.’

‘Sorry, David,’ she said. ‘With your parents as well, that must have been hard for you to listen to.’

David had shared with his friends what had happened with his own parents, the way they had reacted when he had come out to them at the age of sixteen, but that had been so long ago that it rarely came up. Some of that came from David himself avoiding the topic. It made him isolated and uncomfortable, even amongst his gay friends, and a large part of him simply wanted to forget.

‘It was,’ David admitted. ‘My situation was different though … Mine broke all contact with me, and they never met Mark, but that was years ago! It feels like every year things get a little better, but nowhere quickly enough. It’s so depressing.’

‘What can you do though? Sounds like you helped her in the moment, and you offered more help.’ Martha touched his hand. ‘You’re always hard on yourself.’

‘I just … She deserves her family being there for her … I just wanted to do what her own parents are too … I don’t know, scared to? Too ignorant?’

‘Too scared,’ Martha said. ‘Is perhaps the kinder way of looking at it.’

‘You just have to convince people; that’s what I’ve always said,’ David stated. ‘Haven’t I? Tides always change. It’s just that some people take longer than others to wade in.’

‘Just make sure you’re not reaching out to help to try and get a different outcome, or to reverse what happened with you.’ Martha rubbed at his shoulder. ‘It might not happen.’

‘It might, though.’

Martha laughed. ‘You can be much too positive, sometimes, and too nice. I’d get torn apart at school if I was like you.’

‘Well,’ David said. ‘I get away with it somehow. Talking about you being nice … you still never sent me the recipe for that banoffee sticky pudding, by the way. I’ve been telling Mark I’ll get it out of you one way or another.’

‘What are you going to do about Meg?’ she asked. ‘You’re changing the subject.’

‘As are you,’ he said. ‘I need that recipe! What does the youth club say? Oh yes, don’t gatekeep. ’

Martha looked at him, waiting for him to answer her.

‘I really don’t know what to do,’ David continued, sighing. ‘I didn’t get an address or number or even last name or anything, so I hoped I’d just naturally see her again and I could check she’s all right.’

‘I’m sure she will be,’ Martha said. ‘People around here look after each other.’

‘They do,’ David said. ‘But she’s new and her partner’s away. What if she doesn’t have anybody?’

As he spoke, the lady from the local foodbank arrived. ‘All right, sweetheart,’ she said, coming into the shop. She was wearing a gilet and had her head wrapped up in a snood. ‘I like these ones.’ She indicated the new celebration bouquets in the window and David smiled, happy his work to get them right had finally been recognized. ‘I can’t stop long. What have we got?’

‘Thanks so much,’ he replied, standing up to get boxes from behind the counter he’d prepared earlier. ‘I’ve only got a few bits today. Those three bouquets and I’ve only had a few cakes not sell, but I’ve put some cartons of milk in there too, on me.’

‘You’re too good, Davey,’ the woman said, clearly on a mission and already halfway out the door. She waved. ‘See you next time.’

With that, she was gone.

‘Do people call you Davey?’ Martha asked, putting down her cup of tea.

‘No, never,’ David said. ‘But she did it the first time and I haven’t had the heart to tell her.’

He usually closed down the shop slowly from about six o’clock, and had recently started leaving the Open sign up on the door while he did so in case they got any last-minute customers. Sometimes, it could be only a matter of tens of pounds that kept him in the black for each day, particularly during slow weekdays. As he began to sweep the floor of leaves and petals and general rubbish that had accumulated throughout the day, some of the youth group tapped lightly on the window, and started waving. They were moving in that uncontrollably energetic way teenage kids had when they were together. Whereas a few years before, they’d run around playing to get rid of it, now it came out in other, more subtly mischievous ways.

Behind the group, good-naturedly chiding them for moving too slowly in the way of the door, Mark arrived, and they instantly cleared a path for him. They were scared of Mark in a way they weren’t of David.

Since he and Mark had started being involved in the youth club, they’d now seen a couple of generations’ worth of kids make their way through it. There was a man from the council, Jacob, who ran the scheme, but David and Mark helped once a fortnight or so, taking the group on socials or setting up sports or art events in the shop.

As Mark made his way into the shop, putting down his satchel, Benji, their secret favourite, was sticking the end of his nose up against the glass for comedic effect. David would have to clean that, but he didn’t mind. He waved at Benji, pretending to tell him to stop, though he knew he wouldn’t.

Benji had been in the youth club for a couple of years, and even though the official cut-off was fifteen, nobody had had the heart to turn him away. The group needed him as much as he needed it. He’d had a difficult upbringing involving an absent mother and an angry father, David had gleaned, and sometimes he still struggled with his emotions.

When David had first started helping with the group at Mark’s suggestion eight years ago, he thought he had to discipline the kids or take on a parent role for Benji and the others, but what they needed was more of an impartial distant uncle, an approachable grown-up who could still toe the line. The main job was just listening and supporting them.

David pretended to hop down into the ‘cellar’ behind the counter, a joke he’d never got tired of but that the kids were already rolling their eyes about outside. Mark was shaking his head, and the group were laughing at that even more. Always willing to do something for a laugh, Mark came back behind the counter too and followed David downstairs. Then, Mark came back from the ‘cellar’ and pretended to find a new set of stairs next to the existing ones. He got so carried away that by the time he and David looked back to the window, the kids had gone and David and Mark were alone.

‘Hello, you,’ Mark said, moving towards the counter to kiss David on the cheek. ‘Careful, the cellar door’s open.’

David started pretending to trip over it, but thought perhaps the joke had had a beat too many, and picked up the cloth he used to wipe the windows.

‘Do you mind watering these?’ He pointed to some jars of flowers on the table. ‘And these.’ He pointed to some pots below the counter. ‘Then we’ll be good.’

If Mark made it home in time, they tended to close down the shop together before they went upstairs to their flat, and no matter how busy or long Mark’s day had been, he always lent a hand in whatever way he could. It was a nice way to catch up and even him being there made the mundanity of jobs like cleaning the coffee machine (David must admit, he did need to do this a little more regularly) feel less taxing.

‘How was your day?’ he asked Mark.

‘It was okay. There’s a lot of sickness going round, so a couple of cancelled appointments, a lot of children struggling with low mood. I don’t think the weather’s helped.’

‘Of course,’ David said, peeking out of the window. ‘It’s miserable out there, for March. Bring on spring.’

‘Has that girl come in?’ Mark said. ‘The one who cried?’

‘Nothing yet,’ David said. ‘I can’t stop thinking about her. I tried to look her up online today but I couldn’t find her.’

‘Well you could barely find your search engine, to be fair.’

‘Very funny.’ He leaned against the counter. ‘I’m serious. I kept thinking about my own parents, if we’d got married …’

‘You can’t wish for a different outcome.’ Mark leaned against David’s shoulder. ‘This is a different situation.’

‘With her, I just kept thinking, what if that was me?’ David said. ‘Would I want me to find me, check I’m okay?’

‘Talking about finding yourself? At fifty-four?’

‘You’re not far behind.’

‘You’re not going to run away to a yoga retreat, are you?’

‘I will if you keep on, Mark.’

‘I’m sure she’s okay. She’s got a fiancée.’ Mark was holding his bag, ready to go. ‘What did you say her name was? Hannah? She’ll be able to rely on her.’ He kissed the top of David’s head and they started to get their things, ready to leave. ‘Just be patient; I’m sure she’ll pop in if she’s local.’

‘I could always undercharge her, as a gesture – give her the family discount.’

‘I’m going to tape your hand behind your back if you keep being so trigger-happy with that family discount button.’ Mark poked him in the side affectionately, pulling his satchel over his head. ‘What did the accountant say last year?’

‘She said I needed to close in a smaller ring of who I counted as friends and family …’

‘Yes.’

‘And that living in any surrounding postcode didn’t count.’

‘Exactly.’

‘I can’t help that I—’ David smiled. ‘That we’re so popular round here. I’m nearly ready to go, by the way.’

‘I suppose you can’t,’ Mark said. ‘It’s the weekends that I’m behind the till. The thing is, people can’t resist.’

‘Oh ha ha ,’ David said. He wanted to tell Mark what the accountant had said this week, much starker news than last year, but he figured it could wait. It wasn’t exactly Thursday night bring-on-the-weekend news. ‘Oh before I forget, Carl invited us round at the weekend, delayed birthday thing for Matty. Dinner at theirs.’

‘Oh, great.’ Mark was sitting on the counter, swinging his legs. He always knew when David said he was ready, it was never quite true. ‘Their food is always such a treat.’

‘Maybe I use this as an excuse to get Martha’s banoffee sticky pudding recipe to bring,’ David said. ‘I asked her for it again today, but she’s really resistant.’

‘When are you going to have time to make that?’

‘I’ll find time!’

‘Tell me when you’ve found some,’ Mark said. ‘I’ll use it to stop my forehead wrinkles.’

‘Very funny,’ David said.

‘I do have a request on your time, actually.’

David raised an eyebrow, stacking up everything on the counter that had, throughout the day, spread across the shop. ‘What is it?’

‘Benji was talking about careers at school today,’ Mark said. ‘He’s about to do his GCSEs, and I think he’s wondering about the future and what he’s going to do. I took such a boring academic route into this job, I wondered if you’d talk to him? Talk about your career, jobs you’ve had, speak to him about whatever it is he wants to do eventually?’

‘Yeah, I can do that.’ David thought about all his early jobs, and which ones Benji might find useful. A paper boy? A lifeguard? The boring admin job he’d been doing when he met Mark?

‘Great,’ Mark said. ‘I’ll get Jacob to sort a time.’

‘Night, guys,’ David said to the plants, as he spun around to close and lock the door behind them. ‘Say it to them.’

Mark stared at him. ‘Really? Every day?’

David stared back at him, and Mark poked his head back in the door. ‘Bye, guys, sleep tight.’

He blew a kiss and David giggled as he closed the padlock on the shutters.