Chapter 36

THIRTY-SIX

‘He said what?' Still in her coat from taking Gerty for a walk, Florrie stood looking at Leah, trying to make sense of what she'd just heard.

‘He said, he had to go, and that he was sorry, but he'd be in touch. He was in a right rush, looked really flustered.' Leah had followed Florrie down to the kitchen where they hung their coats, not wanting to relay this in front of the browsing customers. The young girl squirmed uncomfortably. ‘He had a backpack with him, which looked stuffed.'

Florrie took a few moments to mull over the significance of the backpack, a feeling of unease creeping over her.

‘And how long ago was this?'

‘I'd say about five minutes after you'd gone out with Gerty,' she said, biting her bottom lip.

Florrie glanced at her watch, her thoughts turning over. That was at least half an hour ago. ‘And he didn't say where he was going?'

‘No.' Leah shook her head.

‘Did he say when he'd be back?'

‘No, sorry.' Leah fiddled with her fingers. The poor girl looked decidedly awkward.

‘There's no need for you to apologise, flower.' Florrie reached out and squeezed Leah's shoulder. ‘I'm just surprised – it's all a bit out of the blue and unexpected. I daresay he'll be back soon.' She spoke with more conviction than she felt.

Florrie waited for Leah to head to the front of the shop before she tried Ed's mobile, but, frustratingly, it just rang out before the voicemail kicked in. She tapped her phone against her chin, not welcoming the feeling of disquiet that was beginning to creep over her as she recalled the last time he'd taken off and left her like this.

By the time quarter to five arrived and there was still no sign of Ed, Florrie was thoroughly agitated. She'd spent the afternoon swinging between feeling annoyed and being concerned. And whenever the bell went above the shop door, her heart leapt, hoping Ed would walk through it, all smiles. But each time she was disappointed.

She tried his phone numerous times, but it always ended up going to voicemail. Ed Harte, what the heck are you playing at? Her mind went to the attic at the cottage, wondering what he'd been searching for. She couldn't shake the feeling it had something to do with that. Her pulse started to race, panic prickling over her skin. How she hated feeling this way. Is this what life with him was going to be like? she wondered. Periods of calm, followed by more of his unsettling flaky behaviour? Stop jumping to conclusions! He hasn't been gone long at all! Give him a chance.

And now she found herself in the uncomfortable position of having to call Jean and tell her they couldn't make it to The Cellar. It was something she didn't relish. She hardly knew what to say, dreading hearing the disappointment in her friend's voice. She didn't want Jean to think they were messing her and Jack about.

She was relieved and, not to mention, thankful when Jean took it well.

‘Don't worry, lovey, we can meet up when Ed gets back. And try not to dwell on it. I'm sure it's not like last time when he wanted to get away from everything. I expect he's gone to source a Christmas present for you or has maybe even got wind of something fabulous for the new tearoom,' she said kindly.

But Florrie wasn't so sure.

Arriving back at Samphire Cottage, Florrie soon found the reason Ed hadn't been answering his phone: he'd left it on the kitchen table, along with a dog-eared brown envelope. Its address had been crossed out, rendering it illegible.

She ran upstairs to the attic where her worries were confirmed. Papers had been pulled out of boxes and strewn all over the floor. She felt tears sting her eyes. Her suspicions had been right. He'd got cold feet.

Back downstairs, Florrie sat at the kitchen table, her head in her hands, her mind spinning with confusion. She felt too annoyed to cry. After the wonderful day they'd had yesterday, how could he do this to her? Never mind that! After this last eighteen months with them growing closer every day, how could he just make some sort of rash decision to up and off like this? Did their relationship mean so little? And it was one thing treating her this way, but leaving without having the good manners to speak to Jean and Jack was another. The last time he'd done this, he'd come back, his tail between his legs, full of apologies, and she'd told him she couldn't go through it again, the uncertainty, the insecurity. She thought from what he'd said afterwards that he understood. He'd promised her he wouldn't do it again, promised her that if he ever had any doubts or worries about being involved in the bookshop, he'd talk to her about it first. Agreed to be honest and upfront.

‘Pft!' Florrie snorted. ‘Once a flaky loser, always a flaky loser.'

She wouldn't give him the chance to do it again. Though it didn't stop her from making a mental note to check through the papers he'd so recklessly cast around the floor. Despite her anger, she was curious to find out if it would offer any clues as to his hasty departure.