Page 50 of My Kind of Happy

My interest was piqued. Could he be referring to me, or Nina? I’d told him that florists don’t often get flowers. And his last visit to us was definitely tense. Being in Sam’s company was making me think that maybe I was ready for dating again. Was it terribly pathetic to hope that they were for me?

‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think,’ I said.

‘Well.’ He stroked his chin and pretended to think about it. ‘I ended up homeless and almost jobless, so … that counts as fairly bad.’

‘Really?’ I gasped, dumbfounded; no wonder he hated his job! His boss sounded dreadful, a proper dicky head as Maria had called him. It took all my self-restraint not to give him a comforting hug. ‘That’s terrible.’

He gave me a lopsided smile. ‘Anyway, I’m not giving up yet so, let’s splash out on the flowers. Say forty pounds?’

‘In that case,’ I said, delighted at the prospect of my biggest sale yet, ‘I suggest you buy individual stems and I can make something up for you. And if you don’t know what the lady likes, we can …’

‘Oh I know what she likes, all right,’ he laughed without humour. ‘And what she doesn’t like. She’s not shy when it comes to getting what she wants.’

Ah. I had a creeping feeling that the flowers were for someone he knew rather better than Nina or me. ‘And who is the lucky lady?’

He looked down at his feet. ‘My wife, Pandora.’

‘Your wife,’ I repeated flatly. He was married. Of course he was. All the good ones were. Although Hamish wasn’t, at least not yet. And Freddie hadn’t been. He’d got as far as being engaged but his girlfriend, Gemma, who I’d really liked, had asked him to give up riding a bike when they were married. And that was the end of that. If only you’d listened to her, you idiot.

‘Technically, my ex-wife,’ he said, pulling his phone out to check the screen. He frowned and put it back in his jacket pocket. ‘She asked me to leave the family home last autumn and we’ve been separated ever since.’

Thank goodness I hadn’t done anything more than gaze at him like a love-struck puppy. Dignity just about still intact, I leapt into professional mode. ‘So let’s start with what she doesn’t like?’

‘Garage forecourt flowers,’ he said with a grimace. ‘She said, and I quote, giving her a bunch of half-dead, bargain basement flowers I’d picked up while buying petrol was the final nail in the coffin of our marriage. Apparently garage flowers say “afterthought”.’

‘Well …’ I sucked in air; I did have to agree slightly with Pandora on that point.

‘But you have to put it into context,’ he protested. He took a step back and leaned against the counter. ‘It was just an ordinary Friday night and I’d bought us all something. Dark chocolate for me, some sweets for the kids …’

‘Oh.’ Kids. As if married wasn’t enough, he had kids. Plural. Cutest man I’d met for ages and with three simple words ‘wife and kids’ he’d slipped from eligible bachelor to Baron von Trapp.

‘Yeah, I know,’ he said with a shrug, misunderstanding my reaction. ‘I regret it now, but I knew she wouldn’t eat junk food, she’s very figure-conscious, and I didn’t want to go home empty-handed. It was either that or a Thermos travel mug.’

Our eyes met then and we both bit our lips to stop ourselves from laughing.

‘Buying garage flowers in those circumstances is entirely acceptable,’ I said. ‘I think you were very thoughtful.’

Sam smiled. ‘Thanks. Anyway, I won’t make the same mistake twice. These flowers have got to say a lot more. Pandora might have said our marriage was dead, but I’m holding out for a resurrection.’ He checked over his shoulder to make sure no one was about to walk in. ‘I miss the children so much. I want us to be a family again. So I’m going to try harder to be the man she wants me to be. She says she wants to be wooed, worshipped like a princess, so that’s what I’m going to do.’

I felt a spike of malice towards Pandora. If I ever married, I’d want to be treated with love and respect and kindness, but as an equal, not as someone whose every whim needed to be pandered to like a spoiled princess.

‘And is that what you want?’ I said, unable to keep the note of cynicism from my voice.

He stared at me for so long that I had to look away.

‘I hardly see the kids at the moment,’ he said finally. ‘I’m missing them growing up, I even miss watching them while they’re asleep. Annabel sleeps on her back, arms out, like a little starfish as if she’s addressing a crowd and Will curls up, one arm clutching his teddy bear, thumb in his mouth. And I miss being woken up by their boundless energy in the morning. Pandora and me, we’ve had our share of problems, but the kids are worth setting them aside for.’

His words came from the heart and made mine squeeze with warmth. I bet he was a great dad. I wasn’t sure how I felt about staying together for the kids. After all, I’d been there and Freddie and I had turned out OK. But I was his florist, not his marriage counsellor.

‘In that case, you’re going to give Pandora an absolutely unique bouquet,’ I said determinedly.

‘Great.’ He pulled up a stool to perch on.

‘Uh-uh,’ I said pulling him up to his feet. ‘It’s better to stand while you arrange flowers.’

‘Me?’ He looked horrified. ‘Forty quid and I have to do it myself?’

‘Forty pounds and,’ I counted on my fingers, ‘you’ll get the best flowers in Derbyshire. One to one tuition from a professional and I can almost guarantee a place in Pandora’s good books.’ Although the jury was out as to whether I was a professional, and as to whether she deserved it, I couldn’t possibly comment.