The Garden of Little Rose Page 5

  ‘How do I know you’ll come, even if you do receive a proper invitation?’

  ‘Because I’ll RSVP, like everyone else.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean you’ll actually turn up, though.’

  ‘It’d be pretty rude if I didn’t.’

  She couldn’t help it, she was laughing now – the challenge was clear as he pushed her to decide, to follow through on her invitation. She ran up the stairs, turning to see him still waiting at the bottom. She was in no danger, not really. She was leaving tomorrow, and he wouldn’t come to the wedding. This was nothing more than teasing banter, playing her at her own game. ‘Maybe you should dust off your dancing shoes.’ She heard him laugh, as she darted along the corridor to Mel’s room.

  Chapter Five

  They were ready. The carriage was outside, Mel’s mother had already cried, and her father was still pacing the sitting room, twisting bits of paper between clammy fingers as he swore he would never make another speech. Flora, Sophie and Eva – Sophie’s little daughter – were waiting in the hall of Mel’s parents’ house, clutching hand-tied bouquets of pale pink roses, as the bride paused halfway down the staircase, holding the train of her exquisite silk and organza gown across one arm.

  ‘Oh, Mel,’ Sophie breathed, clinging tightly to Eva’s little hand as she gazed at her friend in awe. The little girl was already fidgeting in her miniature bridesmaid dress and new ballet pumps. ‘You are absolutely perfect.’

  ‘We should leave now.’ Helen, Mel’s mother, was already fretful as she called up the stairs to her daughter. ‘You really don’t want to be late, Melissa. Not today.’

  ‘Oh, Mum!’ Mel stood patiently, as Flora deftly rearranged the train of her dress for the hovering photographer. ‘It’s not like they won’t wait.’

  Flora stifled a smile and made her way to the front door a few moments later, holding Eva’s tiny bouquet. Once they were all settled in the first carriage, with Helen grimly clinging onto her hat, Eva was excited again and keen to play a game of I spy, which mostly involved her telling everybody what she saw and making them guess the answer anyway. Then Flora heard her phone, hidden inside her little satin bag, begin to buzz. She realised she had forgotten to turn it off and reached into the bag to silence it before they were in the church. It was a text, three simple words:

  See you there.

  Flora read it again and unintentionally dropped the phone onto her lap, barely aware of Sophie’s conversation with Helen and Eva’s giggles, as the noise seemed to fade into the landscape flashing by. Her pulse began to race as she contemplated the short message, and she picked up the phone again. Another text had already arrived and her gaze flew over the words, which were accompanied by a smiley face.

  I said I would.

  Flora had waited until she was back home in Yorkshire, away from Mac, before texting her telephone number to him. A polite reply had followed, and she knew that Mel’s parents had posted a formal invitation to the hotel a few days later, which had been accepted.

  The first image of the garden at Róisín had arrived a couple of days after that and Flora had gasped when she had seen it: a view of a summerhouse, its walls bound with ivy that had gathered the building in its clutches. The broken door was open, a seat inside, faded, dusty, and another one tipped over nearby. She had replied with a wow and since then Mac had sent her two more images of his ancient and forgotten garden, each offering a glimpse of its history and calling straight to her soul.

  She hadn’t returned to the garden on her last morning on the island and the regret still lingered, as she imagined the opportunity to see it once more gone. She had had serious doubts that Mac would actually turn up for the wedding, certain that he was playing games, just as she had been when she had invited him. Until the text moments ago, she had been getting quite anxious about how Mel and her parents would feel when he, surely, left an empty space on his table.

  After just ten minutes’ steady trot, the church was already coming into view and, along with it, the exhilarating prospect of seeing Mac again. She was already seeking him out amongst the guests making their way to the door, as the horses came to a stop in the quiet country lane beside the beautiful old building.

  Some people were turning their heads to observe the bridesmaids’ arrival, and Flora could hear the murmurs of appreciation as she carefully stepped from the carriage, holding the skirt of her strapless, lavender satin dress. She was glad she had spent several hours having her nails manicured, make-up applied and her hair swept up into an elegant chignon. She was always dashing outside to the garden and rummaging in soil, often without gloves, but she knew that today she looked beautiful: the fitted dress suited her height and figure perfectly, emphasising a cleavage and curves that were usually hidden inside a polo shirt and gilet.

  And then she saw Mac, taller than almost everyone around him, striding towards her through the churchyard. She was surprised that he seemed so pleased to see her, everything else fading away as she watched him approach. A sheer, unfamiliar excitement set fire to her senses as she failed to subdue an answering smile of pure delight.

  ‘Hello, Flora.’ Even though she was wearing heels, Mac still had to bend his head to brush her cheek with his mouth when he reached her. ‘Great to see you again.’

  She had forgotten the sound of his voice and the richness of his Scottish accent. Everything else, she remembered: his height, the breadth of his shoulders, his confidence and that innate ability to turn heads. He was wearing a dark grey suit and white shirt with a pale-blue silk tie, the colours perfectly highlighting his sun-bleached short hair.

  ‘You actually came,’ she whispered, still stunned by his appearance. ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ‘I said I would.’ There was amusement in his tone as he watched her, brightening up her day just by being there. ‘Didn’t you believe me?’

  Flora had no time to reply as Sophie dashed over with Eva in tow. ‘Mac, you made it – I’m so thrilled.’

  She gave Flora a quick wink and Flora rolled her eyes, trying to disguise her pleasure. Mac greeted Sophie cheerfully, and solemnly shook Eva’s hand, telling them both that they looked beautiful. Flora tried not to feel put out that he had not included her in the compliment. But when he turned to her again, she saw a glint of approval that he hadn’t voiced, and she blushed. Deliberately, she looked away, determined to respond more like her usual cool and considered self. The photographer was already busy capturing each part of the special day, snatching casual and relaxed pictures as the last of the guests arrived, hurrying into church to find seats and settle the youngest children into buggies, hoping for the peace of a nap.

  ‘We’d better go,’ Sophie said, as the photographer beckoned them over to the gate. ‘Mel must be nearly here.’ She threw Flora a mischievous glance. ‘I’ll stall the photographer for a minute; don’t be too long.’ She hurried off again, taking Eva with her, easily darting through the churchyard in her heels.

  ‘I’m sorry you don’t know anyone else,’ Flora said, a note of anxiety in her voice. ‘I hope it won’t be too awkward for you.’

  ‘I’ve already met a few people.’ Mac sounded perfectly at ease as they slowly followed Sophie towards the photographer. He reached for Flora’s arm, steadying her when she faltered on the cobbled path in her high heels. ‘I told them the truth; that we met through work, mine at least, and that I’m delighted to be here as your guest.’

  Flora pulled her arm away, regretting it almost immediately as she stumbled again, and he caught her quickly.

  ‘You didn’t mention the dare?’ she hissed, waving half-heartedly at Mel’s great-aunt Nora, who was parked on a wooden bench and eating crackers from a plastic bag. ‘Please tell me you didn’t?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t.’ He bent down to murmur into her ear, his hand still on her elbow. ‘Perhaps I should’ve said that you bought me at a charity auction.’

  ‘Not sure I could afford you,’ she retorted, and he laughed. Flora saw Eva sp
ot her father and run off to him, shrieking excitedly, sending her flowers flying as the photographer snapped each moment. Mac disappeared into the church to find a seat as Mel’s carriage arrived, and Sophie and Flora bustled about, helping to organise her dress for the photographs.

  Mel had never looked more beautiful or seemed so certain of what she was about to do. She and Harry had met as children, living on neighbouring farms, and all their lives since then seemed to have been leading to this special day. Walking down the aisle ahead of Mel and her nervous father, Flora knew that this was a marriage that was meant to be. It was the same certainty she had felt when she realised that she and David would never reach the same stage in their relationship. She caught Mac’s eye as she passed him standing on Mel’s side of the church and he gave her an encouraging grin.

  Afterwards Flora could remember little about the actual service. She knew that Harry had stumbled over one of his lines, David was eyeing her curiously and the singing of a young soprano during the signing of the register was exquisite. Everything else tumbled into thoughts of Mac and why he was here, and she sensed his eyes watching her. When the wedding party was ready to leave the church, for an awkward moment Flora thought that she might have to walk back down the aisle with David, but Sophie’s husband Eddie stepped in. Flora took his arm gratefully as they followed the newly married couple out into the spring sunlight, glad that she didn’t have to deal with her ex just yet.

  Outside, more photographs were required, as confetti was flung into the breeze, and Flora barely saw Mac. Other guests began to disappear, in a flurry of cars and shouted directions, as they set off for the reception in search of the first drink and, for a few, a sneaky cigarette. The photographer was relaxed and confident and had soon finished taking all the pictures he needed, to everyone’s relief.

  Harry helped his new wife into the carriage, waiting patiently whilst the bridesmaids reorganised her dress, and then he sprang in and merrily accepted a glass of champagne. Everyone waved and Flora helped Eva to fling the last of the confetti towards the carriage, and they laughed as it blew back over them and became tangled in their hair.

  ‘Hello, Flora. How are you?’

  Jolted out of her thoughts, she turned around to see David nearby, standing in the shadows cast onto the ground by the tall church tower. Her gaze softened as she looked at his familiar face, his eyes crinkling in the sunlight. ‘Hello. I’m fine, thank you. How are you?’

  ‘Yeah, really good, thanks.’ A pause. ‘Lovely service, wasn’t it?’ She knew they were making small talk as they didn’t seem to know quite what else to say, their ease with one another already fading.

  ‘Yes, it was beautiful. You look really well; did you manage to fit in that trip to Norway you were hoping for?’

  ‘Yes, we did, thanks. You look well, too, Flora, that colour really suits you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Flora was surprised by how quickly she had erased memories from her mind, and a few came sneaking back as she watched him. The way his dark hair curled if he left it too long and the gentle hazel eyes that were inquisitive and intelligent, capable of great compassion. They smiled at one another, an expression of understanding that spoke of how everything between them had changed. Suddenly, there was a warm hand on her back, and she jumped, whirling around to see Mac at her side.

  ‘Sorry I was so long, Flora. Are you all right?’ He removed his hand from her back as he smiled affectionately at her. ‘Got chatting to Aunt Nora. She’s quite a character, isn’t she? Started telling me all about a guest house in Wales that she used to run with her husband about twenty years ago.’

  ‘Did she?’ Flora asked, surprised by the intimacy of his casual gesture and wishing he hadn’t removed his hand. She composed her expression into one that wouldn’t reveal what she was feeling, before continuing. ‘Yes, I think she did. Near Lake Bala, somewhere out in the hills. I thought you’d left already.’ She then noticed David eyeing Mac curiously and hurried out an introduction. ‘Oh sorry! Of course, you two don’t know each other.’ She quickly explained that Mac was a work colleague, and watched as the two men shook hands, recognising a hint of reluctance from David.

  ‘Good to meet you,’ Mac said easily, managing to sound friendly and surprisingly sincere. ‘I hear everyone’s looking forward to your speech. Something about a wild weekend in Barcelona?’

  Flora was astonished and still trying to work out how Mac had managed to learn so much already, whereas David’s answering look was sharp and not particularly friendly.

  ‘Majorca,’ David replied brusquely, dropping Mac’s hand as they stared at one another. ‘It was a golfing weekend in Majorca.’

  ‘So, no pressure then,’ Flora jumped in, feigning brightness as she shot Mac a warning look. ‘I’m sure the speech will be brilliant. Is Jayne with you? It is Jayne, isn’t it?’ Flora glanced around the churchyard for a glimpse of David’s new girlfriend but had no idea what she actually looked like. ‘I thought she was coming with you today?’

  David shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘Yes, she’s here. She’s probably waiting for me in the car; I should go and find her. I really ought to be heading to the reception anyway.’

  ‘Of course. Probably see you later, then.’

  ‘Are you ready to leave, too, Flora?’ It was Mac who had spoken, and Flora hoped that he hadn’t meant to sound quite so dismissive of David as he smilingly reached for her hand. ‘I’ll drive; Sophie asked me to tell you that she and Eddie have gone on ahead. They’ll see us there.’

  David turned away without another word and Flora was beside Mac as they set off. ‘What was all that about?’ she muttered, tugging her hand free. ‘You don’t have to try to make David believe there’s more to our relationship than there really is. Just friends, if anybody asks. Or, better still, colleagues.’

  Mac halted suddenly and Flora was surprised by the flash of disappointment that crossed his face as they stared at one another. ‘Isn’t that the point of all this?’ he asked, lowering his voice as a family passed by, preoccupied with loading their protesting children into a nearby car. ‘Inviting me here today just so you wouldn’t be alone in front of your ex-boyfriend?’

  Tension was beginning to make her head throb as she tried to deal with the flurry of emotions darting through her mind. ‘Of course not,’ she replied sharply, challenging his assumption. ‘My relationship with David ended months ago. I knew he was bringing his girlfriend today, but I was perfectly happy to be here on my own. The invitation to you was just a silly dare that got out of hand and I never actually expected you to come. We were just playing games. And how do you know so much about David and me?’

  ‘So, it really doesn’t have anything at all to do with me? Anybody could’ve been your guest, is that what you’re saying? I just happened to walk into the room at the right moment?’

  ‘Yes.’ It wasn’t wholly a lie. In the beginning, all of this had been merely a game, and now Flora wasn’t prepared to admit to him that she couldn’t imagine wanting to share this day with anyone else. She was desperately trying to conceal the delight she felt in his company and the irresistible attraction she simply wasn’t used to experiencing. She glanced at him again, aware of people passing by and eyeing the two of them curiously. ‘This isn’t really the right place for a discussion. Everybody’s staring.’

  Mac watched her for another moment and then he strode ahead, leaving her stranded on the path between the church and the lane, as he disappeared. Despite their heated exchange, Flora could hardly believe that he had simply marched away and left her. Kindness and honesty were surely things she had glimpsed in him, but she began to question her assessment of his character. Was she wrong? Was there really nothing more substantial than a boyish charm and the remarkable ability to look gorgeous in anything? A desire to play games, succeed at every challenge?

  Slowly, she followed, aware of the inquisitive glances of the few remaining guests as she walked alone towards the car park. A rose slipped from its
tie in her bouquet and slithered to the grass, and she kicked at it, realising grudgingly that she had been too dismissive of him and the effort he had made to be here today. Now he had gone, leaving her to explain away his even more sudden disappearance – and it was all her fault.

  She reached the car park, hoping to find a lift to the reception from somebody. The wedding carriages had long since left and the last few people were climbing on board a minibus down the road. The sun had slipped behind a cloud and she shivered in her flimsy dress, as the warmth of the day faded. The trees around the churchyard rustled in a growing breeze and Flora was beginning to think that she really had been abandoned, and her dismay mounted. She turned around, squeezing back onto the lane through a gap in the hedge.

  A silver Audi SUV pulled up sharply alongside her and she flattened herself against the hedge, out of the way, feeling the brush of leaves against her back. She saw the driver reach across to push open the passenger door. It was Mac. ‘Get in,’ he called to her.

  ‘I’m fine.’ Flora hadn’t meant to sound so terse, as she tried to disguise her relief that he hadn’t left. ‘There’s no need for you to stay if you don’t want to.’

  The door suddenly slammed shut, and she fully expected the car to spin away and shower her with gravel. But instead Mac’s door opened, and he leapt out and strode around to face her. She noticed that he had loosened his tie and removed the suit jacket. Despite the more casual appearance, he still managed to look daunting and quite sure of himself.

  ‘If you want me to go then I’ll leave now,’ he said shortly, ramming his hands into his pockets as he stared at her. ‘But that might raise even more questions than my being here with you, now that most of the guests have seen us. What would you like me to do? It’s your call, Flora.’

  ‘Don’t go, please.’ The reply was soft, and heat coloured her cheeks when her eyes met his unwavering gaze. Her feet were aching in the high heels and she shifted from one to the other to relieve the discomfort. ‘You’re right. Of course everybody would wonder why you’d left. And you must have driven a long way. I’m sorry, I was just so unprepared to answer questions.’ She dropped her head, aware that she had revealed more in her apology than she had intended. Happiness, anticipation, desire, doubt – all of these were making her afraid of feeling this way for someone she barely knew.