Page 130 of My Kind of Happy

‘A dog!’ Will said breathily, spotting Scamp who was so hot this afternoon he couldn’t even be bothered to say hello to Sam. The little boy dived across the floor like a goalie saving a ball and ended up with Scamp in his bed. Scamp obliged by presenting his tummy to the little boy for immediate tickling.

‘That’s Scamp. Give him one of these, he loves them,’ said Sam, producing a packet of polo mints from his pocket. My heart tweaked with hope; this was more like the Sam I knew.

Annabel thumped the potted plants she was carrying down onto the counter with an impatient huff.

‘Did you want to buy those?’ I asked, sweeping the loose compost she’d spilled into my hand.

‘Not especially.’ She wrinkled her nose and cast a look around the rest of the shop. ‘But I suppose we’ll have to.’

‘It’s Nanny’s birthday and I wanted to get her some flowers,’ said Will. He had his arm around Scamp’s neck and giggled when Scamp tried to lick his ear.

‘My mum,’ Sam explained. ‘Will insisted on coming here because he liked the flowers I got for Pandora.’

‘How thoughtful,’ I said brightly, trying to ignore the message that it hadn’t been Sam’s idea to come. ‘My mum loves lavender so I’m sure your nanny will.’

An image popped up of Mum rubbing lavender flowers between her fingers and holding them up for me to smell. It brought a wave of love for her. We didn’t have many flowers in our house when I was growing up. Too expensive, Mum had said. It was Granny I usually associated with flowers, not Mum.

‘I hate flowers. Sorry.’ Annabel flicked her hair over her shoulder, not looking in the least bit sorry.

I was bemused. ‘I don’t think I’ve met anyone who hates flowers before.’

Sam laughed at his daughter and placed a casual arm around her slim shoulders. ‘Since when? You spend hours in Nanny’s garden.’

She held up a hand. ‘OK, fine, I don’t actually hate the flowers themselves. It’s what they represent.’

‘You mean like saying “I love you” with a bunch of flowers?’ I said.

‘Ugh, no.’ She curled her top lip in disgust. ‘If I wanted to say “I love you” I’d—’

‘You’d just look in the mirror, ’cos you only love yourself,’ Will spluttered, rolling around at his own joke.

I turned away swiftly to hide my mirth under the guise of selecting a nice gift bag.

‘Don’t be rude, Will,’ said Sam in a strangled voice that I recognised as trying not to laugh.

‘Buying flowers is a waste,’ said Annabel, folding her arms.

‘Annabel,’ Sam warned. ‘You’re not too old to be told off for rudeness either.’

‘Sorry,’ she muttered.

‘I haven’t been a florist for very long,’ I told her, ‘but I see how happy people are when they are given flowers. I don’t think making people happy is a waste, do you?’

She didn’t answer straight away and then she wafted an arm around the shop, taking in the flowers on display. ‘It’s not sustainable though, is it?’

‘Pardon?’ I said, taken aback.

She bent down to read the writing on one of the delivery boxes which Victor had dropped off this morning. ‘I mean Ecuador,’ she said in disgust. ‘Seriously? You can’t find anything closer to this country.’

‘Where’s Ecuador?’ Will wanted to know.

‘South America,’ said Sam.

‘It’s the best place for heliconia,’ I said defensively.

Annabel gave me a pitying look. ‘If the flowers come from the other side of the world, that’s a lot of carbon.’

‘Good point,’ I said, chastised. ‘I’ll have a word with my wholesaler.’