The Flower Shop on Foxley Street. Rachel Dove
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in terms of stark clarity and downright truth. Who’s the hottest man of them all? Certainly not you, dude.
He had badly needed a shave. People were starting to comment on it, but the clean-shaven Will was not a great improvement. At least his dark stubble had detracted from the huge Kardashian-sized luggage wedged under his eyes. Without his hairy mask, Will felt naked, unable to hide.
Even worse was the fact that the lack of hair on his face left people free to roam over his other features, in particular the mop of hair sprouting from his head. He looked like Lionel Messi mixed with Mufasa the lion. It did well for them, but Will wasn’t sure it was such a great style for him. Any longer and he would have to buy an Alice band like Beckham. Start sporting a man bun. He was pretty sure the villagers had never seen a man bun. It might scare them enough to dust off the pitchforks and torches. He had a sudden vision of his uncle Archie dressed like Braveheart, rallying the twin set and mohair-clad villagers into action from atop a horse. ‘People of Westfield, we shall not lie down and die. The man bun must be destroyed!’
He chuckled to himself at his own humour. He would have to tell Lily that joke later.
He frowned at himself in the mirror, opening the medicine cabinet in desperation. Looking through the arrays of random creams and potions, he picked a fairly normal-looking moisturizing cream and started to massage some into his rather green-looking cheeks. Turning to his hair, he combed it the best he could, deciding in the end that he had to wear a hat for work anyway, so he could use this as a passable excuse this time.
Of course, there was nothing to say that there would be a next time at all. There shouldn’t even be a first time, but here he was, getting himself ready for the first date he had been on in years. A coffee date, in the daytime. Nothing too bad. Nothing that he should reproach himself too much for. He was just glad that the butterflies in his stomach and the elated feeling he experienced at the prospect of seeing her again were invisible to others. He could keep denying them to himself, but it wouldn’t be as easy if his feelings were on display. Will was more than used to keeping his cards close to his chest. Lily just made him feel like he wanted to show her his hand, and that feeling alone told him he had to be more careful than usual.
‘Just a coffee, Will, just a little chat, a drink, and then leave.’
He had meant to ask her advice that morning – he had been meaning to ask her for a while, but he wasn’t sure how to approach it, and whether he was playing with fire by asking her at all. He already knew, he didn’t really have to ask this particular person, but he had reasoned it in his head loosely enough to convince himself it was at least half plausible. It was the perfect excuse.
If he was truthful with himself, he would probably pick at the thread in his brain as to why he had taken this course of action, but instead he smoothed the collar of his blue shirt, smoothed down his unruly locks as best he could and, giving the mirror a final look, dashed down the stairs of his home.
Once he’d closed the door behind him, pulling on his coat as he headed down the drive, his mood lifted. He could feel the tension leave his shoulders as he put the keys in the ignition. His neighbour, Mrs Phelps, saw him from her front window and she gave him a little wave and a smile. He returned her wave, not lingering on her face for too long. He tried to keep to himself. It was easier that way, less complicated. Less chance of anyone getting hurt.
He felt the knot between his shoulder blades return. Today was a mistake – he just knew it. Yet he didn’t stop the car; in fact he even sped up a little as he hit the centre of the village. For a second he even thought of stopping for flowers. He laughed at himself when he realized how daft that was, eyeing himself in the mirror.
‘It’s official, Will. You are losing it.’
Pulling up on Foxley Street, he made sure to park a little further down from the florist’s and the coffee shop. He tucked the car out of the way, and then stepped out onto the kerb with unsteady legs. He felt like a teenager sneaking off to do something naughty, like drink vodka in the park when he should be in double maths. Passing the florist’s, he very casually tried to look in through the window without making it obvious, keeping his head studiously pointed in front of him. He couldn’t see Lily, just a customer being served by the enigmatic Roger who worked there. He thought the guy raised his eyebrows at him through the window, but with the cold air stinging his eyes he couldn’t be sure.
He walked into the café, the warm air hitting him immediately, bringing with it a smell of coffee and baked goods. It was a similar layout to the florist’s, but not as open plan, and its double front allowed for a large kitchen and serving area, leaving ample space for some comfy sofas and low tables in the front.
There were a couple of older ladies sat by the door, chatting away with a full tea service laid out on the table. Will noticed that one of them was knitting furiously, not even glancing at her busy needles. He spotted Lily then, sitting on a low sofa right in the back, her head bent over a book. He took a breath as he watched her from the doorway.
She was wearing a pair of black-rimmed reading glasses that framed her heart-shaped face, and made her straight hair look a lighter shade of blonde than usual. She often had her hair tied in a loose bun, but today he noticed she had it brushed down. It was longer than he’d thought, and he wondered how else she would differ from what he was used to seeing at the florist’s week in and week out.
She was utterly engrossed in what she was reading, and he wondered what it was that had her interest. He realized he was standing agog in the entrance when he heard a soft polite cough behind him, and as he murmured his apologies, shuffling aside, she spotted him. Her face lit up with a friendly smile, and she hurriedly thrust her book into her bag as she stood. Will managed to see the cover before it was pushed out of his view. He found himself grinning back at her.
She seemed genuinely chuffed to see him, and he realized that no one had greeted him like that in a long time. It made his body tingle with warmth, although that could be put down to his body finally warming up from the cold. He motioned for her to stay sitting down, and he walked over. He noticed that the cougher behind him had joined two other ladies, and he felt three pairs of eyes following him with interest as he made his way over. He ignored the whispers, hoping it was just his imagination that they were discussing him.
‘Hi,’ he said gently. Lily was sat with both hands on her knees now, and he noticed with a pang that she was wearing an engagement ring. He hadn’t noticed it before, and he wondered if it was a new development. He cursed himself for not seeing it before. Of course she has someone, he scolded himself. Pot, kettle?
‘Hello,’ she replied softly. ‘Do you want a coffee?’
He shrugged her off. ‘No, I’ll get them. Caramel latte, right?’
She looked surprised and nodded, blushing a little.
‘Thank you.’
Wow. I would buy her a caramel latte every day for the rest of her life if she blushed like that. He felt his own cheeks warming, and he nodded stiffly, heading to the counter before he made a fool of himself. He caught sight of the ladies as he turned, and they were still watching him. They looked amused, and he suddenly got the feeling that this café was somewhat of a fishbowl for the locals. His uncle Archie had warned him that Westfield was a bit close-knit, but he had laughed it off at the time. His uncle’s words were something along the lines of ‘Watch your back, the women folk are mad round here. Have you hitched up before you can draw breath, if ya let ’em.’
Archie had then realized what he had said, and patted his nephew on the shoulder in a conciliatory gesture. ‘You know what I mean, lad. Keep your business private eh, better for everyone that way.’
Coffees ordered, he added on an order of fruit toast, realizing that it was still only quite early and she might be a bit peckish. He hadn’t eaten either, so he ordered enough for them both. His stomach rumbled as he stood there, and he hoped no one would hear it before he ate something to pacify the grumbling. The waitress offered to bring it over, so he went to sit down, making sure to choose the sofa across from her, rather than doing what he wanted to do, which was snuggle up on hers.