Chapter 6

Paisley

Seeing Jack’s gran again brought back so many memories. He was raised by them, which meant that during our school and college years, I got to know them pretty well. And I’m genuinely saddened I hadn’t heard George passed away.

Something has been eating at me though, the brief look Elaine shot Jack when I said I was sorry for her loss. It was fleeting, just a quick puzzlement, but one that Jack had shaken his head at, and she’d said nothing, just held me close.

I’d forgotten it almost the second it happened though, as Elaine had changed the subject to the cake. Her excitement at the challenge had shone through, and we’d gotten lost in conversation about Flora, fondant, and first dances.

A whole twenty-four hours later, standing here surrounded by flowers in the local flower shop, I resolve to ask Jack about it after we’ve sorted out today’s problem. I’m currently watching him make nice with our original florist, using the charm he seems to have that nobody can resist. I mean, he’s saying nothing different to her than I have, except she’s softened, is smiling, is totally receptive to everything he’s saying. He could charm the knickers off anyone with just a smile. It’s probably why I fell for him. That damn smile.

From the moment I’d seen him on my first day of school, I’d been hooked. But when he and Elliot had started hanging out with us, when he’d started taking an interest, I’d been nervous. I’d never had a boyfriend, and he was gorgeous. A total goofball, yes, but still the hottest guy I’d ever met.

I turned him down at least a dozen times over the course of those first few months at secondary school, ended up being just friends for a long time. But after a couple of years, a multitude of moments, and almost constant flirting, I was powerless to that smile. When we found ourselves huddled close at a bus stop in the rain one afternoon, as he’d put his school blazer around my shoulders, I’d stopped being scared. I’d kissed him. And he wasted no time in kissing me right back. We were inseparable from that moment on.

Until we weren’t.

But I can’t think of that now. Or the strange look between him and Elaine. I have a wedding to fix. I just need to focus, keep my head in the game. Ignore the fact that right now jealousy is burning through my veins as he lightly touches the florist’s arm. That the same green-eyed monster has done so with every woman he’s spoken to when we’ve been working together so far. But if Jack is going to keep being so wonderful, focussing is going to get harder and harder. And those old feelings might just start to resurface.

The only problem is, I’ve been lying to myself for a long time. Because those feelings never really went away. I just packed them up in a box labelled ‘Do Not Touch’ and told myself I was over him, that I was mad at him. And I was mad at him. I was also mad at myself.

Within half hour Jack has negotiated us right back into the florist’s good books and back onto her schedule for Monday. He’s also told me to go talk to my mum about meddling, and asked me to meet him tomorrow at 7pm as he’s got an idea for the band. Like yesterday, he’s off again straight after we’ve finished our task, apologising that he still needs to get his article written and sending his love to my mum.

And as I watch him stride off across the street to the building of the local paper, I wonder when exactly my Jack, the boy and teen I knew, became a man. And it hits me hard in the chest that I should have been there for it. We should have grown up together, like we planned, him and me, forever.

****

“Hey mum,” I call as I let myself into the house.

“Through here.”

I find her sitting at the kitchen table, laptop open, a whole Pinterest board of floral arrangements in front of her. This is going to be tricky. But I said I’d take care of everything. Promised Flora. And this is one thing that needs handling. Especially now as the catering and flowers have been confirmed. Again.

“Hi darling,” mum says, not even moving from her chair as I make us both a cup of tea. “I’ve been looking at wedding flower ideas, I think I’ve found a new favourite.”

Damn, we’re doing this straight away then.

“The flowers are all picked out, mum,” I remind her.

“Oh, but this is so lovely. And it uses the sweet peas Flora loves so much.”

“Mum, the wedding is Monday, the flowers are confirmed, let’s leave alone now, yeah?”

She ignores me and keeps clicking on various images, the printer in the next room whirring to life as she prints photo after photo out.

“Mum?”

“Huh?”

“Everything is in place for Monday. No more changes, okay?”

“Just this one, the roses really add something to the whole thing.”

I’m going to have to be firm. “No. Stop. You and Flora worked out ages ago that it was all tulips and sweet peas, Flora is happy with that, and honestly, the florist isn’t happy with the constant changes.”

“Keira is a sweetheart, she’ll give us what we want.”

“But maybe we just leave as is, sound good?”

She looks over at me for the first time. “We need to give Flora the perfect day. She deserves it.”

She does. She really does. But if mum keeps sticking her oar in Flora is going to end up with a wedding she’s going to remember for all the wrong reasons. Like she’ll be carrying a supermarket bouquet down the aisle and the reception tables will be bare of flowers.

“Flora deserves the world, but mum, your interfering has nearly cost her this whole wedding.”

“I don’t understand.”

I know she’s just trying to make everything the very best it can be, give Flora the dream wedding, and I know why, but it’s time for some harsh truths, she’s just not going to take the hint otherwise.

“Since I’ve arrived, I’ve spent most of my time fixing this wedding.”

“Fixing?”

“Yeah. I’ve not told you … Didn’t really know how. We lost the church when the roof collapsed and the reception venue because it was double booked, but we’ve sorted that out now.”

“Oh, I’ll need details. I’ll need to contact the caterers, the band, the flori—”

I cut her off. “Mum, it’s all fixed. You don’t have to worry about any of it. You planned everything once already, did a fantastic job, but now you need to concentrate on just enjoying the fact your youngest daughter is getting married in a few days. Why not pamper yourself, a mini home spa type thing. Maybe, just stop calling people with changes though, yeah? We’ve had to smooth things over with quite a few people.”

She looks crestfallen. “I upset people?”

I know it was the last thing she’d have wanted to do, that she didn’t mean it, and I go over and hug her from behind. “We managed to keep the caterers and florist, but only because Jack handled things, put things right. And we lost the cake altogether. It’s a good job Jack’s gran is a keen cake maker, she agreed to help us out. We’ve just got to replace the band now.”

Mum’s eyes have turned glassy, bottom lip trembling. “I’m sorry.”

I hold her tighter. “It’s okay, we’ve sorted it all out so far, but I need you to step back now.”

“I just wanted everything to be perfect.”

“I know you did mum, and it will be, you helped arrange such a wonderful day for her, we just have to preserve those connections you made, not keep changing things.”

“I just … I need to ma—”

You don’t need to do anything, Not now. It’s all arranged, all back to the first options of everything, the things Flora had approved, loved.

“Your dad won’t be there, I just…”

And there it is, the reason behind her obsession for making this wedding extra perfect. Flora’s already been through so much, but without dad there to walk her down the aisle, there’s always going to be that one thing missing.

“Dad will be there. He’ll be with every single one of us, and he’ll be watching his little girl get married, watching you stand in for him and walk her down that aisle, hand her over to the man she loves, who will look after her, love her. It’s going to be the most special day.”

Tears flow then, from both of us, and I hug her tightly until she speaks again,

“A keen cake maker?”

“What?” I ask seeing her tears have turned to laughter. I don’t even know why.

“You. You said earlier that Elaine is a keen cake maker.”

“Yeah, she loves baking. What’s so funny?”

“A keen cake maker?” she laughs again, and now it’s infectious because I’m laughing too, and I still don’t know why it’s funny.

“A keen cake maker?” she repeats over and over, until eventually she wheezes out. “Who says a keen cake maker?”

We’re both in stitches, wrapped in an embrace, and laughing our arses off. Although, I’m still not entirely why it’s so funny.

There are a lot more tears before I head back to Flora’s house. From mum, from me, but neither of us bring up that night, the night we lost dad, and nearly lost Flora too.