The Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop: The feel-good romantic comedy to read in 2018

On cue, the shower switched off. Before Scott could respond, Ben took the towel from him and headed into the bathroom. Scott often wondered who the adult was in their relationship and who was the kid. Still, he was grateful Ben was so mature. Parenting him otherwise might be far more challenging than it was.

Scott went into the bathroom. Between them they lifted Billie out of the chair so Oshma could dry her.

‘Guess what, Nan? I’ve subscribed to Netflix on my tablet. That means we can download films directly onto the TV without needing the DVD. Cool, huh?’

Billie nodded her agreement, although it was hard to tell how much she understood. She mumbled something Scott didn’t catch. Ben laughed and said, ‘Already ahead of you. Gladiator is downloading as we speak.’

Scott was hit by another pang of guilt. He shouldn’t assume Billie’s brain was affected; it was only her body that betrayed her.

‘“My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the Armies of the North.”’ Ben’s impersonation of Russell Crowe made his nanny laugh. ‘“And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next.”’

There was no doubt in Scott’s mind that Ben would indeed be commander of his own destiny. Luckily the kid had inherited his mother’s aptitude for study and didn’t have his uncle’s flawed intelligence. Scott had always struggled at school, unlike his sister, who’d aced her exams, gaining straight As in fourteen subjects before falling pregnant at sixteen following a drunken fumble at a school disco. But Lisa hadn’t let one mistake hold her back and, thanks to their mum, had achieved her goal of venturing into the world of academia. As a consequence, Ben’s progress had been mostly down to Billie, not his sister. Lisa had been working abroad since Ben was eleven, her career teaching applied mathematics far more important than playing mum. Something that still pissed Scott off.

Ensuring the brake was engaged on the wheelchair, Scott lowered his mum into a sitting position, lifting her lifeless leg onto the footrest. ‘You smell nice, Mum.’

Using her good hand, she reached out and stroked his cheek.

Billie had never moaned or resented her daughter for putting her career ahead of bringing up her son, but Lisa’s lack of involvement in either Ben or Billie’s life certainly infuriated Scott. Especially since the stroke. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d wanted to confront his sister, demand to know why he’d had to give up his life and sacrifice everything he’d worked for to become guardian and carer, whilst she got to continue enjoying her prestigious career. But history had shown that no amount of persuading or pleading impacted on Lisa, so in Bangalore she stayed, working in a field he couldn’t even comprehend. She’d got the brains, he’d inherited a heart. You couldn’t win them all.

As they wheeled Billie into the bedroom, Ben kept his nan entertained, updating her with news of his love life. ‘I’ve got a clip to show you of Amy, Nan.’ The kid had been struck by the thunderbolt of first romance. ‘I filmed one of her dance routines and posted it on YouTube.’ He grinned. ‘She’ll be on Strictly one day, you watch.’

Oshma wiped away a tear. ‘You’re a lucky woman, Billie, having such beautiful young men caring for you.’

Billie kissed Ben’s cheek.

Scott checked his watch, and then felt bad when Oshma caught him and started waving him out the room. ‘Go, go, we can manage from here.’

He hesitated, but Oshma was adamant, pushing him out the door. He sidestepped her, bending down to kiss his mum. ‘See you later. I won’t be late.’

She mumbled something like, ‘Don’t worry,’ but he did, constantly.

As he picked up his tool bag, Ben appeared in the lounge. ‘If you have time later can you help me with my UCAS application? I need a personal statement from someone who knows me.’

Scott felt an instant rush of panic. He couldn’t write his Ns the right way around, let alone write a personal statement, whatever one of those was. ‘Depends what time I get back. Write out what you want me to say and I’ll sign it.’

Ben looked disappointed, which made Scott feel like crap. He hated letting the kid down, but as writing a birthday card brought him out in a cold sweat, he wasn’t about to shame his nephew further by messing up his uni application.

‘Why don’t you search the net, see if you can find some examples and then we can use one as a template.’

Ben perked up. ‘Yeah, good idea. I’ll do that.’

Hopefully the kid would have sourced help elsewhere by the time Scott got home and he’d be off the hook. But for now he needed to get going. The bills kept piling up, and if he didn’t work, he didn’t earn. And they needed money, badly.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_bb78522a-bd23-5dff-93ca-a124509cde97)

Tuesday, 18 February (#ulink_bb78522a-bd23-5dff-93ca-a124509cde97)

Evie had always known being a florist was hard work, and normally she was up for the challenge, but this morning she was flagging and it was only nine thirty. Her back was aching from lifting buckets of flowers to change the water, and her hands were sore and numb from the cold. She wished the plumber would hurry up – he’d been due half an hour ago. Bloody unreliable tradesmen. It was bad enough he couldn’t come out last Friday when she needed him, but there was no excuse for being late today. Was it too much to ask that people showed up when they were supposed to? She was trying to run a business.

She stretched out her limbs, trying to loosen the muscles in her back. She hadn’t been running for a few days and was feeling it. Exercise seemed to be the only guaranteed way of keeping the stress at bay these days. She relied on her regular fix.

Needing a break, she brewed up a pot of herbal tea and sat down at the counter to check her emails. The snow had all but melted outside, but the frosty conditions were keeping people indoors today. Hopefully business would pick up as the day warmed up – assuming the flaming plumber deigned to show up and provide them with some heat.

She opened her inbox and scanned down the list of messages, looking for any orders or queries. At first she nearly missed it, but something in her brain must have registered the name, because she was drawn to a notification on Facebook.

Kyle Caplin wanted to be friends.

Was he serious? Shaking her head in disbelief, she declined the request. She’d been in Kent for almost a year and hadn’t heard from him. Foolishly, she’d started to believe he’d moved on. But it didn’t look that way. Or maybe this was his clumsy attempt at apologising, remorseful for all the hurt he’d caused. More likely he just wanted to keep track of her, check what she was doing and who she was doing it with. Well, tough. What she did with her life was no longer his concern.

Frustrated, she pushed her chair backwards, away from the irritation of Kyle, only to collide with something solid. Yelping in surprise, she spun around, fearful of finding Kyle standing in the shop, but it wasn’t her ex-boyfriend filling the space, it was a tall, dark – she refused to use the word handsome – handyman carrying a tool bag.

‘Jesus, you made me jump.’ He removed his woollen hat, running his hand through his mess of dark, wavy hair.

She’d made him jump? Defensiveness morphed into annoyance. ‘Well, if you will sneak up on people, what do you expect?’ She didn’t like people seeing her ruffled. Especially not men. Especially not attractive men.

‘I’m sorry, but I did ring the bell and knock twice.’ He placed his tool bag on the floor. ‘I’m Scott Castillo from Round the Bend Plumbing. I’ve come to fix your boiler.’

She ignored his outstretched hand. She wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. ‘You’re late.’

‘I’m really sorry. I was delayed by a damsel in distress.’ He grinned, no doubt trying to win her over. ‘What can I say, I’m a man who likes to help women.’

Evie didn’t doubt it. He probably spent a good proportion of his life ‘helping’ women. She knew the type – she’d been involved with one. All smiles and flattery to begin with, until his victim succumbed, and then it was nothing but trouble. ‘Well, you can help this woman by fixing the boiler. The pilot light keeps going out.’ She walked towards the back of the shop, showing him where the water tank was.

He lifted the cover away from the boiler. ‘I’d love a coffee. I left without breakfast this morning.’ He subjected her to another of his smiles, no doubt meant to charm. She guessed it worked on most women. She wasn’t most women.

He picked up a screwdriver. ‘White, no sugar, please.’

Biting down the urge to shove his screwdriver somewhere painful, she headed into the kitchen and grabbed the dirtiest mug she could find. Shoving a tablespoon of coffee granules in it, she mixed it with three-day old milk, added sugar just to be spiteful and took it back out to him. ‘There.’ She slammed the mug down. ‘As per your order.’

He stared at the stone-cold concoction, no hint of boiling water.

She waited for his eyes to lift to hers. ‘If you’d wanted a coffee you should’ve brought one with you. I’m paying you to fix my boiler, not stand around drinking my profits.’

One of his dark eyebrows twitched. Was he trying not to laugh? ‘My apologies. I’ll get on with the repair.’

‘You do that.’ She left him to it. He was a distraction she didn’t need.

It was gone ten by the time Saffy arrived, having worked a late shift at the pub the night before. Dressed in head-to-toe black, wearing huge sunglasses and a beanie pulled down low over her head, pushing her blunt fringe into her eyes, she slumped into the shop, her bag dragging on the floor behind her. ‘I need caffeine,’ she said, heading into the kitchen.

The plumber looked up hopefully, but Saffy had already disappeared.

Evie was grateful for Saffy’s late start. It had allowed her time to recover from the shock of Kyle contacting her. Surely he wasn’t hoping they’d get back together? No one could be that deluded. At least, she hoped not. She would not allow Kyle contacting her to derail her from her goal of moving on with her life. She would ignore the message, delete it from her mind and pretend it never happened. Good plan.

But her rationale took a hit when Saffy jolted her from her thoughts by placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘Jesus! Don’t do that.’

‘Sorry, boss.’ Saffy’s lip curled, Elvis-style. ‘Who’s the eye candy?’

‘The what?’ Evie’s gaze followed Saffy to where the plumber was working on the boiler. ‘Oh, him. Scott something, and I thought you were off men?’