Ian decided that this was worth putting down his oily rag. ‘Sage has got lots of ambition,’ he began. ‘She’s carving out new revenue streams that none of us could ever have imagined.’
‘Oh God, I really am,’ Sage said, rallying again.
‘The way she’s going with that flower crown malarkey and being a floral influencer on Instagram, if she did want to go to university at a later date, she could pay her own fees, isn’t that right?’ Ian prodded Sage who shrank back.
‘Well, let’s not be too hasty,’ she said quickly. ‘I bet Will wouldn’t want me to pay my own tuition fees, not if he’s already saved up.’
This was all getting derailed again. ‘So, you’d better talk me through the golden window of opportunity that is Instagram,’ Will said because he could be gracious in defeat. ‘Be a shame not to take advantage of it while we can.’
‘Well, yeah, so I’ve been doing loads of research on the festival circuit for my flower crowns and it’s definitely viable,’ Sage added. ‘There’s so much more you can do with flowers than, like, arrange them in vases. Spooky flowers for Halloween, wreath-making workshops for Christmas. There’s so many Instagram users to exploit!’
Before pudding, they got Rowan on FaceTime and carved out the empire between them. Mary, with some input from Ian, would run the shop and the delivery side of things. Rowan would do the high-end weddings and events. Sage would take over all the social media channels and, overseen by Rowan and after taking some specialist floristry courses at Capel Manor, would continue in her quest to become the flower-crown queen of London. Also, the new logo would feature the same thirties font that they’d always used but would incorporate a photograph of a beaming Blossom wearing a flower crown.
Sage had also posited changing the name of the business to Bloom and Blossom, but Mary had put her foot down on that one.
And as for Will, one thing was obvious. ‘You don’t really need me, do you?’ he pointed out cheerfully, though he had a feeling of all-encompassing dread lodged just below his gut.
‘Don’t be silly,’ Ian said. ‘Eighteen months ago, we were running about like headless chickens and were barely breaking even.’
‘You’re the one who really jump-started the events side of the business,’ Rowan cried from the iPad screen propped up on the table. ‘Not just because you invested in it, but because you’ve taken on all the boring stuff. Now I can focus on the flowers which I love, and I never have to look at another invoice or VAT return which I absolutely hate.’
‘And all those women of a certain age love being served by you in the shop.’ Sage winked at Ian. ‘Stolen all your ladies, hasn’t he, Dad?’
‘Been nice to have another man about so I’m not completely overrun,’ was Ian’s contribution.
But it all confirmed Will’s suspicions. Though deep down, he’d known this all along. ‘You needed me a year ago, and now you don’t, and that’s as it should be.’ Will tried to smile like it really was a good thing for everybody, himself included. He had to stop being so resistant to change. Change could be good. ‘I knew that I couldn’t stick around for ever. I had an email from a recruitment company . . .’
Three pairs of eyes stared at him, and from the iPad, Rowan shouted, ‘Turn me round so I can see Will!’
Now four pairs of eyes were staring at him. ‘We do need you,’ Mary said softly. She’d been loading the dishwasher, she never let anyone else help because she had a system, but now she placed a wet hand on Will’s shoulder. ‘Of course we need you, you’re the glue of the family now Mum and Dad have gone.’
It was a touching sentiment, but no one could replace Bernie and Mo. It was as if there was a permanent fracture in the family that just wouldn’t mend. ‘I don’t want to be glue. What am I? A human version of Pritt Stick?’
Rowan sighed so hard that it was a wonder the iPad didn’t slide across the table. ‘But glue is what puts everything together again, even when you think it’s broken beyond repair.’
‘Great. That’s good. Everything’s fixed and, like I said, you don’t need me anymore, so it is time for me to get another job. Maybe think about moving out of the flat too. You’re losing out on rent with me crashing there.’ It was time to get his life on track. Work. Home. Relationships, because he wasn’t just seeing Margot, he was in a relationship with her and he needed to find a way that they could both be happy without feeling compromised.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Mary snorted, turning to her husband. ‘Ian, talk some sense into him.’
‘Well, Mary, he’s big enough and ugly enough to make his own decisions,’ Ian said, because he wanted a quiet life and taking the path of least resistance was the best way to achieve that.
‘You’re not ducking out on us again,’ Rowan piped up. Will hoped that the iPad would run out of charge very soon. ‘Leaving when we all need you.’
Sage, who’d been quiet all this time, now felt the need to speak. ‘Really, it’s amazing that you’ve managed to commit to Blossom. What’s going to happen to her if you move away or get a full-time job? You can’t take her with you. She’s just as much ours as she’s yours. And what about Margot?’
‘Yes, where does Margot fit into all this?’ Mary wanted to know. ‘That girl is the best thing that’s happened to you in years. Don’t you dare ruin it.’
‘I’m not planning on moving away,’ Will said, because it was the truth. He was here to stay. He wanted to put down roots, have real permanence in his life, and not just because of Margot, but also he couldn’t bear the thought of not having Margot in his life. He could feel his resolve weakening. Margot wanted so much, and she had every right to, but could Will give Margot what she needed? ‘This thing with Margot, it’s actually quite nuanced and complicated . . .’
Sage gave Will a good hard kick from under the table. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. What’s complicated about it? Margot’s amazing. What is wrong with you?
The same thing that had always been wrong with him: ‘Maybe I’m just not good enough for her.’
39
Margot
‘I am strong. I am independent. I am happy on my own. I’m doing just fine.’
Margot positively affirmed herself for the fifteen minutes it took to walk from her flat to their meeting point in Highgate Woods.
‘I am cool. I am calm. I am collected. I am doing just fine.’
It had been a few weeks since Margot had last come here for an official handover and now it was June. Flaming June.
She’d only known the field when it was the domain of dog walkers and football players, but now it was living proof that when the sun shone in London, the inhabitants of that city would immediately find the nearest patch of green and load up on vitamin D. There were picnics and picnickers seeing off marauding dogs. Kids playing ball. Teenagers playing frisbee. At the other end, half of the field had once again been reclaimed by the cricket club.
Her father had played cricket and she had the dimmest memory, half-hidden in the shadows, of his cricket jumper and how it scratched when she hugged him. It wasn’t a huge leap of logic to think that he must have batted and bowled on this very field, although Margot couldn’t say for certain. She’d been so young then and where her father did and didn’t play cricket had barely registered. It was a lifetime ago.