Page 7

6 MEG

95 Days Until the Wedding

Meg arrived at David’s shop after a long day of drawing. People always asked if her hand hurt from the strain, but she must have built up the right muscles. No, it was her brain, rather than her body, that seemed spent from the effort of concentrating in that way all day.

She took a moment before going in. She had never really stopped and looked at the shop from this angle but it was as inviting as a place was possible to be. Green, luscious plants filled the windows, dotted with flowers providing drops of colour, and the gold-foil sign on the door, Savage Lilies , was classy but modern. Even from the outside, everything felt fresh and real, so different to how some of the other, more boring shops presented themselves. You wanted to reach in and touch what was on display and the bright green paint and the strips of pride-flag stripes brought the place to life.

‘You must be so proud of this place,’ Meg said as David came to the door. She stepped over a bit of felled fence that David seemed to have driven over. ‘It’s so nice to have a proper florist’s round here.’

‘It’s everything to me,’ David said. ‘It’s the kind of place people would be sad to miss …’

‘Are you always busy?’

‘We get a lot of browsing but not enough buying. We’ve lost so much custom to the internet, you know. Order now from home and it’s there tomorrow, or there in nine hours. We’re hoping our approach is different enough to keep us relevant. I guess we’ll wait and see.’

Inside, a young man was behind the till, quietly on his phone, and David led Meg towards the back of the shop, patting the boy on the shoulder as he passed.

‘That’s Ray,’ David said. ‘Used to be in the youth club; now he’s at college but he works around us when we need.’

‘That’s nice,’ Meg said. ‘How long have you been involved with the club?’

‘Eight years ago. We’d been living here a few years. Mark was already helping. This town … there are lots of different kinds of people. Some of the parents, through no fault of their own, aren’t there for their kids. For others, it’s an additional social thing outside of school and sports and things. That’s what a community is, I guess. Everyone mixing. It’s not always easy, but every year, it’s worth it.’

Meg wondered how she might be able to get involved in something like that. Best get the wedding out of the way, she thought, and then embed herself here. She wondered what she might be able to offer; their flat wasn’t big enough, and at thirty, did she really have any wisdom to impart?

‘Anyway finally it’s my expertise,’ David said, rolling out a notepad in front of him. ‘Well cakes are too, but flowers, that’s what I really know about. Flowers for your wedding. What would you like?’

‘I actually really don’t know,’ Meg said. ‘Sorry.’ She laughed. ‘I’m happy to be guided. I don’t really know flowers. Just like I don’t know cake, or candles, or dresses, really. It’s all a bit of a learning curve, this, isn’t it?’

‘Okay, maybe we start a different way.’

‘How do you usually start?’ Meg asked. She thought back to all the weddings she had been to over the years. They were definitely the last of her and Hannah’s friends to take the plunge, and the two of them had been to a variety of weddings over the last year alone, in London, Edinburgh and Cornwall. They had always been classy, and in terms of flowers, there’d been some in the ceremony, some on the tables, and the bouquet, of course. They had seemed to match, but she had never really known how people knew what they wanted. All those weddings had been for straight couples, and she hadn’t really thought about where hers and Hannah’s wedding might fit in.

‘You can start with a few things,’ David said. ‘Budget, colours, size, or a type of flower you really like. I mean, you can start anywhere really. I normally suggest people wander round the shop, pick up on the things they like, the things they don’t; that’s equally important. Then we can put things together if they work or I’ll show you what goes with each flower and what each thing might look like. Is there anything Hannah wanted in particular?’

‘She wanted colourful,’ Meg said. ‘But I think our tastes meet somewhere in between. I don’t want it to look, well you know, you don’t want it all clashing, do you?’

David looked at her, and she wondered what he was about to suggest. He looked like he was sizing her up.

‘Why don’t you tell me what you’re drawn to?’

They stood up and walked round the shop. Meg felt a bit silly, wondering what her preferences said about her to this man she was only just getting to know. She said no to the ‘queer bouquets’ he had in a bucket in the window, which were tied with thin pride-flag ribbons. ‘I just want,’ she said. ‘Like … these are nice?’ She pointed out the mixed-colour roses, reds, whites and pinks, which looked like what people had for weddings. ‘I know Hannah said not boring,’ she continued. ‘But some white roses, too, in the mix, I think would be nice and classic.’

‘Okay.’

‘These are nice.’ She pointed to the table in the middle of the room, paint-spattered and covered with crumbs of mud. There were small jam-jars of cartoon-like orange flowers, and round dandelion-like plants in a dark purple. ‘Would this all be too many colours? Or is it nice?’

‘Not if you like them,’ David said. ‘And if Hannah wants colour, a lot of these might work, in with the roses?’

‘Oh those are nice.’

‘You’re saying nice a lot.’

‘I thought flowers were supposed to be nice!’

‘They can be,’ David said. ‘But some can be unpalatable to people who don’t like them. Some people hate lilies; some people hate roses. Flowers can be a burst of expression, or a real huge show of a feeling, or of so many different feelings. Flowers can mean anything, really.’

‘Do you think what flowers you have … does it say much about you?’ Meg asked. ‘Like do people know that roses mean something, or whatever these ones are?’

‘I’d say, first of all, don’t ever worry about what other people think,’ David said, smiling. Meg flushed with embarrassment. She couldn’t help herself; she always thought of what other people might say, and it wasn’t even the first time today somebody had said that to her. Her friend Ailie had been on the phone at lunch and told her to stop thinking so much about what her parents thought. ‘Mark always says: those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind. He loves a phrase. It’s annoying, and don’t tell him this, not even once, but he is always right.’

Meg smiled.

‘But that gets easier with age … Anyway, flowers do have meanings!’ he continued. ‘But most people won’t know the backstory; they’ll just know the flower makes them feel a certain way. It’s almost like astrology, how deep you can go into it. In Victorian times, you could answer yes-or-no questions with flowers, with how you passed them to people, for example. Now, that’s all fallen away, but different flowers have different associations still. Roses are romantic, of course, but they’ve been known to indicate the lines between pleasure and pain. A yellow rose is actually supposed to signify infidelity.’

‘Gosh.’

‘So maybe not those,’ David said laughing. ‘They’re a bit obvious too. Zinnia’s a good one for weddings. It means absent friends and lasting affection, and salvias actually, they’re about everlasting love. Camellias are for inner strength. Maybe those?’

David indicated towards a batch of flowers in another bucket on the other side of the room. They weren’t packaged in a perfect bouquet, but loose and ready to be made into something beautiful. Their petals were a kind of textured white, like bed sheets.

‘I like these.’

‘I’ve always liked them,’ David said. ‘Not a big seller, but I try to get people to include them where I can. Actually, I might have …’

He looked under the counter before walking into the back room. After a minute, he came back in holding a big dusty laminated book, which he thumped down onto the table.

‘I got this when I first got serious about opening Lilies,’ he said. ‘Mark was encouraging me, said I’d need to know stuff like this. Pick a flower for you and Hannah, then I’ll show you mine and Mark’s.’

Meg sat for a few minutes, looking at the book. It had a full page for every major flower, with a big index at the back, and she took her time to pick things with meanings that she liked. For Hannah, she chose a freesia, which represented friendship and trust. Hannah was really loyal, and trusting in people, so it fitted. For herself, Meg chose lavender, which she had always loved. Amongst the obvious things like calm and serenity, the book said the plant represented luxury, and Meg always thought that was what she liked about them. They felt like a treat, whether in flower form or in the pillow mist Hannah always bought her for Christmas, and if there was any day to feel like you were being treated to luxury, it had to be your wedding day.

‘What are yours and Mark’s?’

‘His is tulips,’ David said. ‘They’re about fame and true love. I feel like Mark’s semi-famous around here. Everyone knows him, and everyone thinks he’s so funny. He does have that kind of star quality. That’s what drew me to him in the first place.’

‘And yours?’

‘I’m a bit of a daffodil,’ David said, smiling. ‘New beginnings and sunshine. They always remind me it’s never too late to start again.’

‘That’s lovely.’

‘People think Mark and I are both tulips,’ he said. ‘Our friend Matty said that when we played this game, but Mark’s the tulip, really. He’s the one that’s unfailingly optimistic. I can be a little more melancholy. Not often, but sometimes.’

David said he’d order in some of the plants she’d liked and she could pick from there. Meg was impressed at how easily he alleviated the stress of the wedding and how well they worked together.

With business out of the way, Meg offered to help David close down the shop. It was the least she could do. Ray had finished a long time ago. ‘Seems a waste to pay him for stuff I could just do, you know, with how much everything costs nowadays,’ he said. He waved away Meg’s suggestion.

‘Go on, let me help.’

When she insisted, he passed her a broom. ‘Closing down is my least favourite part of the job.’

‘How so?’ she asked.

‘I like the morning, when everything’s possible, and you’re making it all more exciting. In the evening, you’re packing down. You’re making the shop more boring.’

‘My parents have an old friend who’s a florist,’ Meg said, a memory she’d entirely forgotten until she remembered him turning up to her parents’ place, a large bouquet of almost comically large sunflowers flung over his arm. ‘William. He’s a bit more serious though, does it all out of his house, no café; always made it feel like much more of a job, much more of something you can do well or badly.’

‘I like to make it fun,’ David said. ‘Got to give people a reason to come in. Flowers can be the first thing to cut when times get tough, but the way they can brighten up a day? There’s nothing more important.’

‘I agree with you there.’

They must be coming to the end of it now, since David was cleaning the floor and she had nothing left to tidy.

‘So before last week happened, did you see your parents much? Their friends, people like that?’

‘We’ve been living in London ever since I graduated so we’d see them, you know, birthdays and Christmas, come to stay in summer and stuff. We didn’t do that all the time. They never came to us. They’re quite … what’s the word? They’re homebodies.’

‘That happens as you get older,’ David said.

‘They’ve always been like that.’

‘Oh.’

Meg remembered Saturday nights at home and how if they ever went to the cinema, it was only in the daytime. What had felt like normal life to her was actually a fairly rigid routine, with set mealtimes and unmovable rules. It was only at university that she had ever had the experience of getting home after dark, or planning to do something that day that she hadn’t known about when she woke up.

‘I didn’t move back here expecting to be at theirs every night, but we thought it would be nice, me and Hannah, to be somewhere one of us had grown up. Of course, you get more for your money than in London, so we could finally buy a place too.’

‘How have you found it, since you moved back?’

‘It feels the same to me as ten years ago,’ she said. ‘I’m sure we’ll make it homely, and I’m sure we’ll meet more people, but those things take time, right? For now, it feels a little like I’ve gone backwards. Annoyed at my parents, seeing the same old sights.’ She put the broom in its place behind the counter and hung up her apron. ‘All done?’

‘I should move the van,’ David said. ‘So there’s space for the delivery driver in the morning, but I can do that later. Or, better yet, I can make Mark do it.’

‘Where did you grow up?’ Meg said. ‘I realized I never asked.’

‘I’ve lived all over,’ David said. ‘Many places, many lives. Grew up near Glastonbury, actually. Then I was in Manchester, and all over there, working different jobs for many years. Then I was in Wakefield, and met Mark. We lived in Sheffield for a little bit, then Chester, then here we are. The accents seem to have all balanced each other out.’

‘Would you ever move again?’

‘I still get itchy,’ he said. ‘But not now we have the shop. I’d never give this up.’

‘Oh, hello? Sorry I’m late.’

The voice came from the doorway and it followed round to where they were standing, and Meg assumed the man now standing in front of them must be Mark. He was taller than David, and thinner, with thick-set dimples on both his cheeks. His smile was infectious, and he had well-groomed dark hair combed to the side. In one ear was a tiny gold pearl-shaped earring, and he was carrying a tiny bag over one shoulder.

‘Hi, I’m Mark,’ he said, coming closer to shake her hand.

‘I’m Meg,’ she said. ‘I feel like I know you already, but it’s so nice to meet you.’

‘I feel the same,’ he said, beaming. ‘Congratulations on the wedding! How did today go?’

‘Oh we’ve been busy,’ said David, coming round to kiss Mark on the cheek, and he stood with his arm protectively around his waist. ‘Cakes, flowers, coffee.’

‘Sounds awful,’ Mark said. ‘Such hardship.’

Meg watched and, despite being together for about twice as long as her and Hannah, the pair were tactile and still clearly obsessed with each other. When each spoke, the other watched expectantly and with a smile, like they were encouraging them. There was a lightness about the two of them, like they knew what they had was good and that in here, they were entirely relaxed.

‘So, Meg,’ Mark said. ‘Tell me everything. How did you and Hannah meet, and how long have you been together?’

‘Oh it’s a lovely story,’ David said. ‘They—’

‘Maybe Meg would like to tell it,’ Mark said, smiling at Meg.

‘I don’t mind,’ Meg said, laughing. ‘Feel like we’ve told each other our life stories the last few days.’

‘Don’t get David started; he’ll get the memoirs out. And at our age, there’s a few books to get through. No, Meg, tell me about you! I’ve heard such nice things.’

Mark was clearly tired from a long week, but seeing a stranger, someone important to David, meant he stopped and asked questions and threw himself into somebody else’s life. She could imagine it took effort and patience to do that, rather than rushing to lie down at the end of the day, like Meg knew she would be keen to in his shoes.

‘We were both on the same course at university,’ she said. ‘So young, even though you don’t feel it then, and illustration is very … there’s a few hours a week together but you’re left to do your own work most of the time. So you don’t really see your course mates. We bumped into each other in a café off-campus where we were both trying to get our heads down and work, and then that became every Thursday morning for a few weeks. I thought we were just friends, but she thought we were flirting.’

‘I know that feeling,’ Mark said.

‘Seems like we have the same story,’ David said.

‘You can slow burn at eighteen; you can’t at thirty-five …’

‘We didn’t slow-burn Mark. We were … anyway.’

‘Yes, anyway, Meg,’ Mark said. ‘So then how did it change?’

‘It wasn’t until one really miserable day in February when she asked me to get dinner with her that evening, and then I knew it was a date. I had a few hours to completely freak out, since it was my first date with a girl. I had no idea what to wear, but it was so great.’

‘And then you were girlfriends?’ Mark said.

‘Pretty much,’ Meg said. ‘Now, a decade-ish later, fiancées. The engagement was very low-key, but it was perfect.’

‘That’s lovely, Meg,’ Mark said, who was now resting against a chair in the window. ‘I’m sorry about your parents too, if you don’t mind me saying that. They’ll come around. David might have mentioned, I work at St Helens.’

‘Of course! So do you know them?’

‘No, no,’ he said. ‘I mean the counsellor works very separately from the teachers. I just know they’ve both been really nice whenever I’ve dealt with any of their pupils and we’ve had to talk. I’m just sorry it’s all been so … I don’t know, is “difficult” the right word?’

Meg smirked. ‘You could say that.’ She felt strange. It was one thing to be talking about her parents in the abstract, it was another to talk about them with someone who had more daily contact with them than her. Anything could be happening with them, and she wouldn’t know.

‘Are you okay?’ David asked.

‘Yeah, I just think … they are nice, that’s the problem. They’re so good with kids. I’ve seen it. I just think it’s different with your own child, you know. You have blind spots. I don’t think they’ve ever known how to deal with me.’

It was hard to know what to do but the thought of her parents invaded every section of her life. Just when she’d distracted herself enough, here they were again, with the ongoing problem that was going to be hers to solve.

‘Have you spoken to them since that day at the shop?’ Mark asked.

‘Still nothing, and I still don’t feel like I should text them first.’

‘I think that’s fair.’

‘It makes me worried. What if when me and Hannah start a family, like when I want our kids to have their grandparents in their lives … And what if it means I’ll be a bad parent?’

They both moved towards her. ‘That won’t happen,’ Mark said.

‘You’d be an amazing parent,’ David added.

‘Thank you,’ Meg said, wiping tears from her face. ‘God, crying again!’

‘They’ll come round,’ David said. ‘And until then, for your sins, you’ve got me.’

‘Thanks, David.’

‘And we’ve just met of course,’ Mark said. ‘But you’ve got me too.’

‘Thank you.’ She exhaled, and shook her head. ‘Right, I’d best be off. Thanks for today. I’ll leave you both to it.’

‘I’ll message you,’ David said. ‘About the food festival.’

‘That sounds good,’ Mark said.

‘You’ll need to cover the shop so I can go, Mark.’

‘Oh.’

‘Oh, and Meg,’ David said. ‘I should book your wedding in! I can’t believe I’ve forgotten the most important bit. Make sure I’m around on the day itself to deliver and come and do all the flowers … Give me the date again?’

‘It’s the last day of June,’ she said. ‘It’s a Sunday.’

‘That’s what? About three months away!’ Mark said. ‘How exciting!’

‘Obviously come to the actual day too, if you can? I’ll give you two spaces.’

‘Thank you,’ Mark said. ‘That’s very kind.’

‘I’ll message when those orders come in,’ David said, checking his phone. ‘I use this weather app; it’s the most accurate one. I tested them all, don’t worry.’

Meg could see Mark rolling his eyes affectionately: ‘He checks this at least once an hour.’

‘Everything is always slightly weather-dependent, but all looks good for everything you wanted, seasonally, and we can always tweak the week of, forecast-dependent.’

‘Thanks, David.’

‘Oh Mark, Benji came in for that meeting,’ David said, turning to his partner. ‘We’re having another chat next week, but he actually offered to do social media for the shop.’

‘And you said yes?’ Mark said.

‘I couldn’t exactly say no!’

‘David …’

‘Who’s Benji? Meg asked. She got her phone out of her pocket and flashed up the shop’s Instagram page for them. ‘I saw this earlier,’ she said. ‘I thought it was you, David.’

‘He’s from the youth club,’ Mark said, taking the phone and looking at it. ‘I wouldn’t think this is David. I’ve never seen him manage to download an app by himself.’

‘Well I did think you’d probably had help with the caption,’ Meg said. ‘I didn’t think you’d call something “lit”.’

‘Do you think it’s a good idea, Meg?’ Mark said.

‘Yeah of course,’ she said. ‘Everywhere has social media now.’

‘But probably from a professional,’ Mark said.

‘Why don’t you give it a few weeks?’ Meg said. ‘You were saying the shop needed more customers; hopefully this helps. If nothing happens, you can suggest he stop. He might get bored anyway, if he’s what, a teenager?’

‘That’s true,’ Mark said.

‘Anyway, I’d better go. Work to do at home. Bye, guys,’ Meg said. ‘Have a good night.’

She walked to the door and left, closing it softly behind her. She turned back quickly to wave to David who had followed her to the door to turn the sign – a daffodil with a small chalkboard in the middle section – from OPEN to CLOSED.

Against all the odds, another successful day.