Page 17 of My Kind of Happy

Ethel thought for a moment and then her face lit up. ‘You said he made a list of things which made him happy, why don’t you do the same?’

I smiled at her. ‘Why not? I’m partial to a list. Let’s start now.’

There was a tiny notebook and matching pen in my bag and I pulled it out and turned to a clean page. I jotted down a title, underlined it and wrote a number one in the margin.

Ethel chuckled at my enthusiasm. ‘So what’ll be top of the list?’

I was still contemplating that when one of the care assistants approached the reception desk, handed Thomas a big bunch of flowers and walked back down the corridor, waving as she passed us.

‘Great.’ Thomas said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly at us. ‘I’ll just add flower arranger to my job description, shall I?’

‘Gift from an admirer?’ Ethel asked.

‘Don’t joke,’ Thomas replied archly, ‘I’ve had plenty of those since working here. No, these were given to one of the residents, Cynthia, but they’re making her sneeze. I’ve been told to display them on reception instead.’

‘A right Lady Muck, that one,’ Ethel whispered to me as he rummaged under the desk and reappeared with a vase. ‘Thinks she’s staying at The Ritz.’

We watched as Thomas peeled off the cellophane and dumped the stems unceremoniously into the vase where they all flopped to one side; he hadn’t even added water.

‘Voila.’ He cocked his head, studying his efforts. ‘That’ll have to do for now.’

The bouquet must have cost a fortune; I couldn’t leave it like that.

‘Allow me to help,’ I said, setting aside my list and getting to my feet.

‘Be my guest,’ said Thomas, gesturing to the vase with a flourish of his hands.

He directed me to a sink where I washed the vase thoroughly. Granny’s instructions came back to me down through the decades as always: these flowers have come a long way, give them a fresh, clean start and they’ll repay you for your kindness.

Back on the reception desk, I surveyed the contents of the bouquet. Large-headed white roses, pale pink ranunculus, silvery foliage, the big blue thistles … it would create a wonderful display to greet visitors.

I separated the stems into groups. ‘Ruskus, eucalyptus, eryngium—’

‘Sounds like you’re chanting a spell,’ said Thomas, glancing up from his computer.

I laughed. ‘And the magic has only just begun.’

Ethel looked on proudly from her armchair. ‘She’s a marvel with flowers. I just bash the ends with a rolling pin and hope for the best, but Fearne’s an artist.’

I batted their compliments away. ‘I can’t do anything fancy but my granny was a florist, she taught me a few basics when I was a little girl and I’ve used them ever since.’

I quickly stripped away the excess leaves, snipped stems to the right length and began with the foliage. The largest blooms went in next, followed by the smaller flowers to fill the gaps. Then, I turned the vase around, checking for anything which needed tweaking. Finally, I stood back to look at the arrangement from a distance.

‘That’ll have to do,’ I said.

It was nothing elaborate; I’d have loved to be able to do those big hand-tied bouquets I’d seen at posh florists with spiralled stems which you could simply take home and pop straight into water. Or big modern arrangements with single exotic blooms framed by an arch of steel grass. Or even something like the huge displays Granny used to make for her church which at the time were bigger than I was.

‘Beautiful.’ Ethel gave me a round of applause and Scamp wagged his tail to join in.

‘I’ll say,’ said Thomas, whistling through his teeth. He pulled the vase towards him. ‘I might pretend it’s all my own work.’

‘It’s easy, you could do it yourself,’ I said happily. ‘Start with the foliage. That forms a structure to support the stars of the show. Then just pop in the flowers, making sure each one gets room to shine. Simple.’

‘Simple, she says.’ Thomas winked at Ethel.

‘Easy,’ Ethel echoed and they both laughed.

I found myself blushing. ‘You can say so much with flowers.’