Forgetting You

Once I knew I could tackle a stroll, I wouldn’t feel as worried when I eventually told Elliot about my little adventure. He worried over me constantly, so showing him – and myself – that I was truly on my way to being physically healthy again was important to me. As much as I loved his help and attention, I didn’t want to become a burden to him or a responsibility. I simply wanted to be his partner and his equal – and once I was better, he could step down from the twenty-four-seven Noah care service he was currently offering.

I dressed with ease, pulling on a sky-blue sundress that fell to my mid-thigh to reflect the warm May day. After I put my sock and shoe on to my good foot, I put my hair into two French plaits, and popped on some mascara and lip balm. I didn’t look like anything special, but I felt like a million quid. With my boot securely fastened, I made sure I had the key Elliot had given me to the flat, as well as some money and my new phone. Then I hooked the strap of my bag over my head and left the flat, locking the door behind me before making my way outside and to the bus stop.

I was going to All in Bloom, the flower shop I’d worked at in Tulse Hill. It was only a ten-minute walk from my and Elliot’s flat, but that ten-minute walk could easily turn into an hour with how slow I was moving these days, and how many breaks I knew I’d need to take. The bus made the journey less than a couple of minutes long, and the shop was within sight of the bus stop at the other end.

With a smile on my face, I took my time as I walked down the street. Not much had changed on this particular road since I remembered it last, and I was pleased about that. But as I got on the bus and gazed out the window, the entire neighbourhood looked different. It was astonishing to see how much even little changes could alter my impression of a place. I noticed so many new things that it was both astounding and somewhat disturbing. When change happens gradually, people tend not to notice it. But when you’re disconnected from a place during the time of that change, you notice the differences right away. Or at least I did.

And that was how I felt when I entered All in Bloom, my old place of work. I noticed everything that was different. The floor space was bigger, and I recalled that the owner, Helen, had briefly talked about expanding the shop once she got planning permission for an extension from the council.

There were thick, dark wooden ceiling beams and the walls were a bright, crisp white with colourful decor. The shop itself had a whole new layout that took customers on a little path as they browsed. It was beautiful . . . It was also my idea.

I had drawn up a plan of what I wanted my own flower shop to look like in the future. I had never kept it a secret that one day I wanted to run my own place, make my own rules and bring to life a vision I saw in my head. I felt my heart pinch knowing that Helen had obviously taken a liking to my plan and put it to use herself. I didn’t feel angry though, just disappointed. And that disappointment quickly changed to motivation. The plan I’d drawn up wasn’t the only one I’d thought of – it was simply one of many. I was confident that, when the day came for me to design and open my own shop, it would be with more thought than what I’d put into the design Helen was currently using.

I wished her all the best.

Wanting to view the entire shop, I began to walk the flower trail. Lesley, who’d been the manager when I worked in the shop, wasn’t around from what I could see, and I didn’t know either of the two middle-aged women who were currently working in the shop, so I didn’t strike up conversation. Once I told them I was just browsing, I took my time looking around the arrangements, pieces and loose flowers on display. The smell of all the mixed scents was like a drug. It always brought a smile to my face; it was a scent that made me feel very much at home. I’d missed it.

I couldn’t wait to get back to work.

Excited that I hadn’t lost my love for flowers and the desire to work with them, I wondered when I could realistically look into flower shops that were hiring. I mean, as soon as I got home I would be researching my arse off, but I had to think of when I would be ready to work again. The only thing holding me back right now was my leg. Normally wearing a boot cast was only a six- to eight-week ordeal, but as I had fractured the same leg in two places once before, the newest fracture was even more severe and had required more screws, pins and metal plates to repair it – which left me wearing the boot for at least ten weeks.