I Am Watching You(41)

The truth is I keep getting this feeling at the shop that I am being watched. You know – that odd physical sensation, as if someone has ever so gently tapped you on the shoulder before you turn round to find there is no one there. I expect it’s paranoia. I’m not as convinced by the police’s reassurances as I’ve told Luke and Tony I am. I keep thinking about those secateurs.

I have thought about phoning Matthew again, but he has been out of the loop since his wife went into labour and I don’t want to trouble him. In any case, he is a private investigator, not a security guard.

I look around the car. No one seems to be stirring. The lights in the flats above the shops are still off. There are probably no more than a dozen to twenty paces between the car and the shop. I have done it a million times, day in and day out. I can’t let myself be like this.

Get a grip, Ella.

I take a deep breath, press the lever for the door locks, and get out of the car as quickly as I can. Shop keys already in my hand, I wait until I am in the doorway before turning to fire the key to lock the car. Heart still pounding, I am very soon inside the shop, making sure the door is pushed tightly so that the Yale lock connects. It is a special new lock that needs a key once it is closed, a bit like a hotel bedroom door. During the day, I keep it open with a flower bucket filled with daily specials. For now, I double-check it is fully closed and secure. Good. I leave the blind on the inside of the door down. You can see in through the window display, but that can’t be helped. I will be working out the back mostly, anyway.

I move quickly through to my prep area, taking off my coat and hurling it onto a chair while flicking the switch on the coffee machine. I am an order bunny. Last night I loaded the coffee machine ready for this morning while I was doing the six matching table displays which are sitting on the middle shelf of the flower cooler. The blooms for the three wedding bouquets are all carefully set out in water on the bottom shelf, in the order I will make them up. The two bridesmaids’ bouquets first, and then the bride’s.

When I first started my business, I used to do all wedding flowers the day before. I was worried about running out of time and making a mistake. Now I know exactly how long everything takes and have more confidence. I prefer everything to be super fresh, so I only do bridal bouquets the day before if there are delivery issues or exceptional problems with flower selection.

I used to do the deliveries myself, too, but now I have an excellent guy helping me. Tom is cheap and reliable, he handles the flowers carefully, and he has never let me down. He’ll be here in less than three hours, so I need to get cracking.

Today’s order is for three informal bouquets with roses and large daisies – flowers that are easy to source. Informal hand-tied arrangements are my forte, but this bride wants traditional binding with ribbon. The bouquets don’t take long, but I always build in spare time and I know I will be fine if I get going.

I love that the bride has gone for simplicity. Her dress has a lot of lace so she is sticking with very simple flowers for the contrast. Very wise.

Hot pink gerberas mixed with some tight rose buds for the two bridesmaids. I set everything ready at my workbench, cutting off strips of sticky floral tape and attaching them to the edge of the counter. Next I begin the first bouquet, selecting the best single flower as the centrepiece, and working outwards in a spiral to build up the arrangement. It goes well. The flowers are terrific quality and I am in a good rhythm. This doesn’t always happen. Very soon I have the required shape and move over to the mirror that is set up specially so that I can check how the bouquet looks held in front of me. Good. Yes. I am really pleased. Excellent shape. I return to the workbench and use the tape to secure the stems: not too tight, you need to be careful not to damage them. Then I pop this first arrangement back in one of the vases ready on the workbench, glancing across to see that the coffee is ready. I pour a large mug, adding milk from my mini-fridge, and sit down.

It’s only now, as I stop thinking of the flowers, that my mind wanders. The hook on the ceiling catches my eye – it’s the one we used for Luke’s bouncer when he was little, and I picture him bouncing and smiling. So happy.

I tried so hard to comfort him last night, but I just couldn’t find the right words. And now I think of how close I came to being a grandmother and it is too much. Tears. No sound: just the sensation of wetness on my cheeks. I let myself cry while drinking my coffee, the saltiness of the tears running into my mouth and mixing with the drink, and then I shake my head and reach for tissues from my bag on the counter. I wipe my face, sniff and turn to look back at the flowers.

Automatic pilot again. I dry my hands carefully on the towel by the sink and select double-sided ivory ribbon from the drawer – the expensive roll set aside for weddings – and the little packet of pearl pins. This bit needs real care.

I lift the flowers from the vase and use my favourite red-handled secateurs to trim the stems to an even length. Then I very carefully spiral the ribbon to cover the stems, turning back the end of the ribbon to make it neat, securing with the pins. I hold the arrangement at waist height to ensure it feels comfortable and check it again in the mirror, then I run my fingers up and down the ribbon to ensure there are no protruding pin edges. All good. It looks beautiful.

The next part is a little more challenging, as I need to make sure the second bridesmaid’s bouquet matches exactly so there is no variation or imbalance to skew the wedding photographs. These are the things you learn with experience. How crucial attention to detail is.