‘So…’ Fleur handed Cathy her usual early mug of tea. It looked as if she’d been there for hours already because the stall was almost set up, the displays bursting with seasonal arrangements of holly, ivy and mistletoe, some with scarlet roses and berries or pine cones sprayed silver and gold. There were also early daffodils, snow-white lilies and more delicate narcissi along with the usual fare of more traditional, year-round bouquets that included carnations and orchids. ‘Firstly, where’s my cake?’
Cathy laughed and gave Fleur the Tupperware tub she’d filled with rocky road.
‘Oh, you’re a good girl!’ Fleur grinned as she took a square. ‘And second, how did the big date go?’
‘Interesting,’ Cathy said, taking a sip of her tea.
‘Now that’s not an adjective I’ve come to expect when hearing how a date went. Interesting how?’
‘Oh, it was lovely until the end.’
Fleur wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh God, he didn’t try to push things too far, did he?’
‘Oh, no! He was a perfect gentleman. But when we got back to his place for a coffee his niece was on the doorstep.’
‘Trouble?’
‘That’s her. And she had more trouble. She’d left home and wanted his help. So, of course, that was the end of the evening.’
‘Well’ – Fleur bit into her chocolatey square – ‘at least the rest of it went well. Are you going to see him again?’
‘Tomorrow,’ Cathy said. ‘As long as nothing happens to get in the way, I suppose.’
‘You think it will?’
‘Well, she’s moving in with him for a bit as far as I know.’
‘So? Surely his niece isn’t that needy? She’s older, isn’t she? Old enough to look after herself for a few hours if he goes out?’
‘She’s seventeen so yes, but I think he worries about her. I think Erica does too but she can’t do as much because her husband isn’t very keen.’
‘He might worry about her but surely that won’t affect him seeing you?’
Cathy put her lips to her mug again. Fleur’s appraisal of the situation was as practical as she was, and it was bang on the mark. Tansy staying with Matthias shouldn’t affect his time with Cathy, but somehow she felt it wasn’t going to be that simple. She’d seen already how easily Tansy seemed to wrap her uncle around her little finger and she wondered how far she’d go to make certain she was always his top priority. She craved affection and attention; that much was clear from what she did and what Cathy now knew about her, and to a certain extent Cathy sympathised – the poor girl probably deserved a bit of TLC. But she felt Tansy didn’t always go the right way about getting it, and how far she’d push to get what she wanted was anyone’s guess.
‘I don’t suppose it ought to,’ she said finally. ‘I’m probably worrying over nothing. It’s just… I really like him, Fleur. I suppose I’m scared something will come and ruin it for me.’
‘It sounds as if he likes you too, so maybe you ought to try to relax and let things happen. You know, I always think that if something is meant to be then it’s meant to be, and nothing in the universe will stop it. And if it’s not meant to be, then the universe will see that it stops, no matter what anyone else does.’
‘Hmm,’ Cathy said, smiling now. ‘Sounds a bit fatalistic.’
‘But it takes the stress out of things,’ Fleur said, reaching into the tub for more cake. ‘There’s no point in worrying about things that will take their own course whether you worry or not.’
‘I don’t like the thought that the universe doesn’t want me to find a good man like Matthias,’ Cathy said.
‘Oh, I think it does. That’s why you’re never here right now when your ex comes for his flowers.’
Cathy looked sharply up from her mug. ‘What?’
Fleur shrugged. ‘He came in again as I was packing up last Friday. Did I not mention it?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, I must have forgotten. Jade served him this time – she’s doing extra hours to save for Christmas,’ Fleur added in answer to Cathy’s slight frown, guessing that she was wondering what their Saturday girl was doing in a day early, ‘but I could tell he was looking for you.’
Cathy searched her memory. This must have been after he’d seen her out at the theatre with Matthias. There had been nothing strange in his demeanour that she could recall, though. He’d been cheery, friendly, as interested as an old acquaintance would be, even if Cathy had found it excruciatingly awkward. Cathy also had to question whether he really had been looking for her or whether Fleur was just choosing to see it that way because she was rather enjoying the drama.
‘He probably just thought he’d say hello if I was here,’ Cathy said. ‘I saw him out at the theatre with his wife after the play had ended,’ she added. ‘And he came over to introduce her, so he probably just thought we’re sort of friends now and he ought to be polite.’
‘Yes,’ Fleur said, ‘I’m sure that’s it.’ But her expression told Cathy that she didn’t believe that for a minute.
Cathy looked up to see someone at the counter holding a wreath they’d picked up from the display.
‘How much is this one?’ the woman asked.
Cathy, glad of the distraction, put down her tea and went over to help. With a bit of luck they’d start getting busy around now and Fleur would forget all about the fact that Jonas had been to the stall again.
Matthias and Cathy had agreed on somewhere more low-key for their next date and gone to a cosy local pub. He had seemed distracted at times, but she’d tried to dismiss it, realising that he had a lot to think about right now and she hoped that it was nothing to do with her. He seemed to rally, however, when Cathy took over the conversation to talk about the progress of her recipe collection and the book she was writing to safeguard it. She’d wondered if it was a subject that would bore him, but he’d seemed genuinely interested when he’d asked, telling her what he knew from Erica, and listening intently as she explained her thoughts on how it was a way of maintaining connections with the past and with family members no longer with them.
‘So what will you do with it when it’s finished?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. Lots of people have said they would like photocopies so I suppose I’ll make some to give out.’
‘Seems a bit of an anti-climax for something you’ve put so much work into.’
‘Not really; it’s more of a labour of love than anything else. Maybe I’ll ask for donations or something to give to the cancer charity, but it’s really not worth that much to anyone but me.’
‘I think you underestimate its worth.’
Cathy shrugged and reached for the white wine spritzer he’d just brought back to their table. The pub was quiet, only two other tables occupied, but then, it was a weeknight. Besides, she liked it this way – it meant they could talk properly without having to shout over the noise of a jukebox or quiz machines or rowdy drinkers, and it meant they could each listen properly too.