Page 58 of My Kind of Happy

‘There,’ I said, pivoting the vase so they could see it from every angle. ‘It’s as simple as that.’

‘That did look simple,’ agreed Paige. ‘But I doubt I could recreate it at home.’

‘Then try it here.’ I took the flowers from the vase, laid them on the table and separated them out so she couldn’t just put them straight back in as they were. ‘Have a play. All of you. There is no wrong way to do it. And if you did want to buy a similar bunch to this, I’ll do you a special deal.’

My challenge was met with great enthusiasm and I stepped back to let them each take a turn.

‘Nicely done,’ said an amused voice. ‘If that tactic doesn’t sell four decent bunches of flowers, nothing will.’

I turned and smiled at the tall dark haired woman dressed in black beside me who must have just arrived.

‘Apparently people are intimidated and don’t know what to ask for when they come in,’ I said, offering her a drink. ‘I’m hoping that a bit of DIY messing about will break down some of those barriers.’

She gave a wry smile. ‘Try being an undertaker. My customers don’t even want to be there, let alone part with any cash. Mind you, I think I’ll draw the line at DIY embalming though. Could get a bit out of hand. I’m Wendy from A.J. Mallet Funeral Directors.’

Funeral flowers weren’t something that Nina had actively promoted and to be honest, I had my reservations. Even though I felt as if I was coping better with the loss of Freddie, I wasn’t sure I was ready to face the new raw grief of anyone else yet. Having said that, we couldn’t afford to turn business away.

‘Good of you to come,’ I said, shaking her hand. ‘How’s business for you at the moment? Brisk I hope?’

Wendy arched an eyebrow. ‘We’re somewhat reticent when it comes to trumpeting our sales as it inevitably goes hand in hand with someone’s demise.’

I winced. ‘Of course, I should have thought.’

‘But our reputation precedes us and we get a lot of repeat business,’ Wendy admitted proudly.

I was confused. ‘Surely it’s a once in a lifetime event?’

‘It’s a bit like having a family solicitor,’ she explained. ‘Once you get one person through the door, their relatives tend to follow.’

‘We also have regulars,’ I said wryly. ‘But Nina is so generous that many of them leave without parting with any cash.’

Wendy chuckled. ‘We don’t have that problem. In fact, a lot of people want to pay silly amounts for a funeral. The more bells and whistles the better, to show their respect. I have to rein them back in half the time, remind them of their Dear Departed’s wishes.’

‘Providing they’ve left wishes,’ I said, remembering the stress of organising Freddie’s funeral. How many people his age had even considered what sort of funeral they wanted, let alone shared their wishes with others? I certainly hadn’t.

Wendy nodded solemnly. ‘The funeral is the last thing they can do for their loved one and there’s a lot of pressure on them to get it right. That’s where our experience comes in. We help them do the best they can. It needs to strike the balance between what the deceased would have wanted and what the bereaved need; it has to be both a sad goodbye and a joyful celebration.’

‘That’s a lovely way of putting it.’ I swallowed the lump which threatened to constrict my throat. I hadn’t been able to celebrate Freddie’s life at the time: for me his funeral had been nothing less than gut-wrenching sadness. ‘We could help people hit the right note with flowers, if you’ll consider us?’

‘I might.’ She tilted her head. ‘Show me what you’ve got.’

I led her towards the counter and flicked through our portfolio.

She stopped me when I reached the photos of Rosie’s wedding.

‘These are good,’ she said, taking a closer look. ‘We’re getting more calls for natural looking flowers these days. We did one the other day in the woods. The trip hazards we had to overcome just to set the cardboard coffin down in one piece, you wouldn’t believe. So this sort of more informal stuff. Yeah, I can see it working.’

I was flattered that she’d chosen the only design of mine in our portfolio. The florist they used at the moment was very good, Wendy explained, but didn’t believe in unstructured floral tributes for sombre occasions.

‘They’ve done all sorts for us over the years,’ said Wendy. ‘Flags, dogs’ faces, football club emblems. Last month one family requested a motorbike. A floral tribute in the shape of the thing that killed their dad. Imagine that?’

Heat rose to my face. One thing was for sure: a floral tribute in the shape of a motorbike was something I could never do. I hated bikes with a passion which invaded every nerve in my body.

‘No.’ My voice came out as a croak. ‘I can’t.’

I pressed a hand to my forehead, suddenly aware that I was getting over-heated. And dizzy. I needed air. Why was there no air in here? All these people, standing around with drinks in their hand. The smell of the lilies and …

‘You OK?’ Wendy looked alarmed. ‘You’ve gone an odd colour.’