It All Started With You, page 26
‘Oh, I’ll pop up there now and then,’ I tell her. ‘And who gives a toss about gossip?’
She moves her lips in a ghost of a smile that leaves her eyes flat. ‘I just think that if I go, I can start to heal and maybe discover what it is I have to do. There is something, I’m sure of it.’
I’m speechless. Even now, at her worst moment, she’s inspirational. If you could bottle her strength, you could change the world. I take her hands in mine. ‘Lulubelle, you are braver than a Masai warrior. But you need to be kind to yourself.’
‘I won’t lose touch, Frankie. In fact, you need a holiday too. Once I’m settled, why don’t you come and join me?’
It turned out that was her farewell. The very next day, she texts me from Heathrow.
Don’t forget what I said. L xx
And then suddenly, my life is very quiet. Though it doesn’t have to be, because there’s the shop. Only, as I already know, I’m really not feeling the love.
‘I don’t know what’s happened,’ I tell Alex. I’m sitting on my sofa with my feet resting on his lap as gently he rubs my toes. ‘I used to live and breathe wedding flowers and now, I’m just not fussed.’
‘Maybe you need a change,’ he suggests. ‘Or you could sell it. With Honey in there, it’s in safe hands. You could actually take a break for a while, before you decide for good.’
‘Hmmm… you’re quite clever,’ I tell him. ‘That’s not a bad idea for a policeman.’
He tickles my feet in retaliation. ‘Or you could take Lulubelle up on her offer and go-an see her!’ he jokes.
I raise my eyebrows. ‘Terrible,’ I tell him. But I’m thinking of the cheque Julia gave me. ‘You know, I’m thinking, if Honey agrees, I just might.’
42
Only Honey, being Honey, gets in first.
‘Now, Frankie,’ she begins, sounding bossier than she has in ages. ‘I have noticed – that you’re leaving more and more to me – and that’s fine.’ She holds a hand up as I open my mouth to speak.
‘I don’t mean to,’ I tell her. ‘I’m sorry, it’s not really fair on you.’
‘I’m not telling you off – sorry – it sounded like it, didn’t it?’ Bless, she’s trying but she still has these lapses. ‘Anyway,’ she continues. ‘I’ve been thinking, and well, I have this idea.’
‘Go on.’
‘I know you only got into this because I forced you…’
‘You didn’t force me, you gave me a much-needed kick up the arse,’ I tell her. ‘For which I will forever be hugely grateful.’
‘Really?’ She looks relieved. ‘Actually, that makes what I’m about to say much easier.’
‘I can’t believe it!’ cries Nina, when I tell her. ‘It’s exactly what you need!’
‘You deserve it,’ says Charlie generously. ‘You’ve worked so hard. It’s a really good time to take a break.’
‘It’s so much easier knowing it’s all in Honey’s hands.’ It’s true – otherwise I couldn’t do this.
‘Oh, I’ve been dying to get my hands on the place – if only so I never have to scrub another bucket,’ Honey tells them. ‘I’ll go and get another bottle of champagne.’
‘Have you really sold it to her?’ says Nina, after Honey’s gone to the bar.
‘I really have,’ I say proudly. Once she’d suggest it, the decision was surprisingly easy. ‘And if I want to, I can work for her when I get back – I’m not too sure how that would work though.’ I screw up my face at the thought of working in my shop under Honey’s orders. ‘Anyway, anything could happen – we’ll see. But she was so generous and I have a wodge of cash to tide me over. Might have to cut down on the champagne though,’ I say regretfully.
‘So when are you going?’ Charlie asks.
‘Sunday.’
‘Fuck – Frankie, that’s in three days. What about Alex?’
That was precisely what was worrying me. But when I summon the courage to tell him, I’m overwhelmed by his response.
He comes up to me and stands very close, his eyes inches from mine, as he strokes my hair behind an ear in a gesture so tender my heart melts.
‘You must go,’ he says softly.
I look up at him, suddenly filled with sadness at the thought of leaving him. ‘But what about you?’ I blurt. Because even after all that’s happened, his tireless support and understanding, only now, as I’m leaving him, do I realise just how much he means to me.
He shakes his head. ‘I’ll be here, waiting for you,’ he says simply and as I look into his eyes, I know that every word is true and he will be.
‘Really?’ I whisper. ‘I thought you’d say we’d have to break up because I was going gallivanting off across the planet without you and I don’t know how long for…’
‘I happen to know you’ll be back,’ he says. ‘And if not, I’ll come and find you.’
‘You’d do that? For me? Why?’
He smiles – and it’s a smile that reaches right into my heart, one I want to hang on tightly to forever.
‘Because I love you.’
43
These last few months, I’ve learned a lot. Firstly, it’s very handy having a boyfriend who’s a policeman – especially when you’re a florist. And that even though they come from another planet, rock stars, too, have their uses.
I’ve learned, too – fame and celebrity, you can keep them. Life’s about so much more. And though I’ve seen more sadness in the last six months than in all my years put together, in the most unlikely way, it’s enriched my life. It’s made happiness more prized, friends more precious and love the greatest treasure of them all. And it’s completely changed the way I look at things.
I went to Goa and stayed with Lulubelle in the beach house, which far from being the palatial, rock star hangout I’d been picturing, really was a little wooden shack on a beach, just like she described, with palm trees, the ocean a stone’s throw away. It was, quite simply, the closest place to heaven on this earth. I swear, I had this sense that wherever Cosmo is now, he was just the other side of where we were.
For a whole, glorious month we talked and sunbathed and swam in that water, which I’m convinced has something magical in it. And in the evenings we got drunk on cheap beer and bared our souls and did a lot of crying. But crying heals. So does sun and warmth and that spirit that I’m certain lives in Goa. And very gradually, the crying got less and Lulubelle, very slowly, started coming back to life.
I flew home alone because she still has one or two mountains to climb before she follows, but she’s taking brave steps forward and won’t be too far behind me. She’s heartbroken of course. She always will be. But on the outside, she’s even stronger because, now, the worst has happened. And though nothing will ever change that, she thinks she’s found her calling. It’s still in the early stages of planning, but there might just be a Bella Mac tour on the cards, to raise money for leukaemia research. I, for one, can’t wait.
Alex met me at the airport, and as I flew into his arms, I found something else out. I realised home was no longer my tiny little flat on Dexter’s Green. It was him.
A week later, I did two things. Firstly I signed up as a volunteer at Briarwood, and every Monday and Tuesday, that’s where I am – helping wherever someone needs me. It might be taking drinks round or reading stories. Sometimes I just have coffee with a parent, who, just like Lulubelle, faces the biggest struggle of their lives. But it gives me back something immeasurable – that if in some small way I can make a difference, I’m worth something, more than ever before.
Pete did a really nice thing and donated a new boat specially modified to take wheelchairs, so no one is denied what Cosmo enjoyed most.
The second thing I did will stay a secret, but I crept back to Cosmo’s grave one night with a small bag of bulbs and several packets of carefully chosen seeds. Very carefully chosen and artfully planted, so that when the first of the snowdrops poke up in years to come and the grass is dotted with wildflowers, no one will remember that it was ever any other way.
I have mixed feelings leaving my little flat. But it’s tiny for two people as I know only too well and it makes sense to move in with Alex – minus his lodger, I hasten to add, who’s gone to live with her girlfriend.
Julia hung around – but not for long. Last I heard, she was on her way to the Bahamas. She sent me a postcard.
Come and join me, darling
Love, Mother x
She actually wrote Mother… Who knows. Maybe I will.
Back at the shop, business is booming. Honey has everything far better organised these days – and she’s hired another assistant, Megan, who is ditsier than Skye but very arty. Whenever I poke my head in, she’s scrubbing buckets, which seems a dreadful waste of her talents. But mostly they don’t need me, so I leave them to it.
So now, I’m onto something new. I’ve signed up to train as a bereavement counsellor, which I’m hoping is something I’ll be good at. Something else that I can use to help families at Briarwood.
There’s just one more thing I’m kind of dabbling in, but I need to talk to Mrs Orange. It’s those posies, you see. Not the wedding kind, but the funny little twists of herbs and wildflowers that calm and soothe and uplift and heal. I think it’s time to share the magic, so I might just start another business… Alex thinks it’s a brilliant idea and I’m practising on him, so far with mixed results, as I try to perfect the forever posy. And I don’t want to get it wrong.
44
It’s November. Months since I’ve worked on a wedding. At first she was reluctant, but I’ve persuaded Honey that I really want to do this one. Control freak that she is, she wasn’t happy about it, but eventually she gave in. It’s only a small, simple wedding after all. Nothing fancy, at a lovely old house which belongs to a friend of the bride.
The wedding is early evening, so the church will be lit by candles. It’s a place that echoes with memories – the church where Pete and Maria were married. The one where Cosmo’s buried, which is somehow fitting because, as the bride knows, life and death are part of the same shebang.
She’s praying for a starry night, the bride, so that the photographer can work by moonlight, capturing all the people precious to her in a place that’s so close to her heart. Her dress is hung up away from the groom’s eyes – a simple, elegant dress with short sleeves and a fur bolero to keep the cold out. There’s a pair of Hunter wellies too – shiny new ones – just in case. It’s quite a walk to the church.
She’s going to love these tiny white narcissi, the first of the winter, with snowdrops for hope, white heather for luck, with little sprigs of spruce and rosemary sprigs for remembrance – Mrs Orange brought some from her garden. There’s also the ubiquitous hazel twigs – as a precautionary measure – because all marriages have ups and downs, as she knows only too well.
And the reason I know all this?
Well, after several weeks of experimenting, the posy finally worked. At least, I think it was the posy – and one evening, after a romantic candlelit dinner, looking slightly surprised, Alex went down on one knee and proposed. Next, he called me a witch. I threw myself at him and kissed him passionately, then told him not to be so rude. But I’m wondering, just maybe, if I might be.
Our reception’s at Pete and Maria’s house, the music I’ve left to them. Well, it would be rude to pull rank on a rock star. I’ve a sneaky suspicion it might have something to do with Bella Mac, who’s about to embark on a sell-out world tour, but no one will actually tell me.
But it could be fish and chips in the pub for all I care, as long as it’s with this man I’ve found, for whom I’m the only girl in the world, with my dearest friends looking on. You see, it’s true, as I finally discovered. The only thing that matters is love.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It was a magical day that I found out Boldwood were going to publish this book. It’s one of the first I wrote, one I’ve always loved. Previously self-published as Wildflowers, it will always have a special place in my heart.
I’d like to say a huge thank you to everyone at team Boldwood for making this happen – for editing, cover design, marketing, and all your brilliant and dedicated work in getting our books into the hands of readers. Another big thank you to Tara Loder, too. I’ve really loved working with you.
As always, thank you and love to Juliet Mushens for being the best agent and to all of Team Mushens for everything you do.
When I had the idea for this book, I still had my wedding flower business. They were wonderful years, if a little crazy at times! I’ve always loved the way that scent and colour can transform a space. That flowers can tell a story about someone, symbolise a memory of them. Flowers connected me to people’s most joyous occasions, also their most heartbreaking. (I did flowers for funerals, too.)
It was quite a few years ago that I wrote this book. I didn’t have an agent at the time and I duly started querying. For a week, I barely slept when six literary agents asked for the full manuscript. But all six passed, which was when I self-published it. It was then I discovered the effort required in order for a book to become visible on Amazon and I’ll never forget the support I had from family and friends. My daughter, Georgie, designed the original cover and I was so grateful to my friend, Elisabeth Else, whose expertise and encouragement helped readers find it.
So here it is, with a new cover and title, as well as the professional edit it didn’t have the first time around. I’d like to say a huge thank you to every one of you readers, bloggers, librarians, reviewers, for reading my books and taking the time to share your thoughts. I love hearing from you and I really hope you enjoy this one. x
MORE FROM DEBBIE HOWELLS
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The Girl I Used To Be, another heart-warming page-turner from Debbie Howells, is available to buy now by clicking on the image below. Or read on for an exclusive extract…
Prologue
2020
I called you one morning. It was early and I’d gone for a run. Reaching the top of the hill, the sun was bursting through the trees, the air vibrant with the sound of birdsong.
For a moment, I stood there, as suddenly everything was falling into place, answers coming to me, answers that had evaded me for weeks, if not forever. I reached into my pocket for my phone and started texting you.
I have an idea for another book!
As I started walking again, I didn’t have to wait long for your reply.
But you’re not going to tell me!
It was followed by a smiley emoji. You knew that thing I had, about not telling anyone too soon because the magic went. But this was different. This was the story of me and you, which, until now, I hadn’t known how to write.
I’m giving our story an ending! That’s all you’re getting – for now.
But knowing it was your story just as much as mine, I made you a promise.
But one day, when it’s written, I’ll send it to you.
We hope you enjoyed this exclusive extract. The Girl I Used To Be is available to buy now by clicking on the image below:
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Debbie Howells’ first novel, a psychological thriller, The Bones of You, was a Sunday Times bestseller for Macmillan. Four more bestsellers followed, including most recently The Vow, published by Avon. Fulfilling her dream of writing women’s fiction she has found a home with Boldwood.
Visit Debbie’s Website:
https://www.debbiehowells.co.uk
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First published in Great Britain in 2023 by Boldwood Books Ltd.
Copyright © Debbie Howells, 2023
Cover Design by Head Design Ltd
Cover Photography: Shutterstock
The moral right of Debbie Howells to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologise for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.
