‘FLOWERS, TEA, COFFEE ... OR BOOKS?’ I asked, wondering where Gram was. It was Josh who stood before me. He was the colour of pink; hot pink, shouting of love.

‘Flowers again, please,’ he said, and stood taller.

‘Again? Did the first flower arrangement not work?’ I frowned at him.

‘Oh—they worked a treat. This is a commitment bouquet.’

‘Oh-my! Good news for you then! Did you have any particular type of flower in mind?’ I asked.

‘That’s where I was hoping you would help ...’

I brushed my hands down my apron then touched the top of my dress up to make sure my scar was covered. Was Josh talking about Xander? Part of me needed to know if he was gay. ‘In one word, how would you describe him—your partner?’

‘Perfect. Spectacular. Favourite.’

‘That’s three words!’

He let out a heavy breath. ‘I know ... I’m just so ... into him.’

I cleared my throat. The visual that entered my mind was too graphic. ‘I think I know which blooms will represent everything you’re saying,’ and a little more, I wanted to add, but didn’t. ‘Can I grab your phone number or email, so I can contact you when your bouquet is done?’

‘I can wait,’ he said.

‘Up to two hours?’ I frowned at him.

‘Oh ...’

‘Oh indeed. I’m waiting on help to arrive. Until then, new bouquet creations have to wait ... I’m sorry.’

He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Then, I’ll just have to be patient, won’t I?’

‘I’m really sorry ...’

‘I’ll be back at 10.30.’

‘See you then! And thanks for understanding,’ I said as Josh left. I added his order to my list of things to do. Gram still hadn’t stepped foot in Flowers for Fleur, and Charlotte hadn’t graced the store with her presence, either.

‘Good morning. How can I help?’ I forgot to say the flowers, tea, coffee or books spiel, and guilt washed over me. I berated myself silently. A young woman stood before me. She wore a navy, short-sleeved A line dress. She was the colour of Parmesan yellow, full of anxiety.

‘Flowers ... and a blank book, please.’ Her voice was soft.

I smiled at the request for a book. My first one. ‘Are you writing something?’ I spoke in an upbeat voice to try and lift her mood.

‘No. It’s symbolic for me.’ She twisted her hands together and moved from foot to foot.

Her nervous behaviour put me on edge. I looked around the store for anything odd. ‘A good symbolic, I hope,’ I said and looked back at her.

‘It is. A blank book means a new start.’

‘It does ... and you are the author of your life,’ I said. To a certain degree ... you can choose what you do, but you can’t choose what others do to you, I wanted to add, but didn’t.

‘It’s my new life. I’m not going back to the old one.’

‘Good for you!’ I was starting to feel a little jealous of her. I wished I had the courage to start a new book for my life, where none of the past stories blemished any of the pages. 

She leaned in a little closer. ‘He made me keep a book, you know ...’ Her voice was barely audible. Her eyes widened.

I paused for a moment. ‘What type of book?’ I nodded to her, encouraging her to keep talking. 

‘A mistake book. Every time I made a mistake, he would make me write it down.’

I shuddered and my chest tightened. ‘Why?’

‘So he could punish me,’ she whispered, and looked down when she blushed.  

I couldn’t breathe. The sharp point of the bowie knife on that terrible day of the scars flashed in my mind. I had to distract myself to stop a panic attack. I reached over to a small watering can and poured pretend water into a plant displayed on the sales desk. 

I placed the watering can down carefully and walked around to the young woman and guided her to the bookshelf. ‘You must burn the mistake book.’ The words came out in a whisper before I could stop them.

She pressed her lips together. ‘I should. But it’s the only evidence I have. It matches the secret book I kept—my punishment book.’ She sucked in a sharp breath and looked to her side, wide eyed.

‘Is he here in the store with you?’ I kept eye contact with her.

‘No ...’ Her eyes darted around the store. ‘I ... I have to get back to the car before he finds out.’

I grabbed a blank-paged book off the shelf and handed it to her, then grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the flowers. ‘Choose whatever you like.’

She picked up a simple bouquet of coloured gerberas and looked around with wide eyes.

‘I can hide you and help you get housed in a women’s shelter,’ I said. 

‘I can’t leave him ...’ She shook her head with wide eyes. ‘I should go out to him ... he’ll be real angry when he can’t find me.’ Her eyes darted around the store and outside. ‘He’ll be sort of kinder then, if he finds me sitting in the truck ... sort of. He needs me,’ she whispered, as if the walls had ears. 

I’d heard of victims like her, having a loyal connection to their abusers. I reached up and fingered my scar beneath my work dress—a habit that was hard to break.

‘Okay ... but if you ever change your mind, I promise to help you,’ I said. 

A tear ran down the young woman’s face. She wiped it away.

‘You need to go. The flowers and book are a gift from me. Think of kindness when you look at them ... and ... whatever is happening to you, isn’t forever. You can change the path of your life. You will know when the time is right. I won’t forget you,’ I said, trying to throw a life-line to her.

She turned and left Flowers for Fleur. I stood, stunned. Staying with an abuser didn’t make sense. It would be like me staying with the man who scarred me. I sent a silent prayer for her rescue and hoped that she would come back one day.

I returned to the sales desk and served people, taking money for ten pre-made wrapped blooms. The stock was getting low and I couldn’t see a break from selling in sight, plus I had orders to create and deliver.

‘Flowers, tea, coffee, or books?’ I asked the elderly gentleman who stood before me in his grey trousers and blue button-up shirt. He was the colour of indigo blue: relaxed, happy, and lovestruck.

‘Flowers, for my wife,’ he said, and smiled with a twinkle in his eyes.

My world slowed down and everything seemed right. Peace was on earth.

‘What type of flowers would your wife fancy, sir?’

‘Roses. She loves roses ... but just in their closed-up form before the petals open, and then she watches them every day and photographs their miraculous unveiling, gifting their beauty to the world.’

I held on to his every word. This was what love was meant to be like. This was the poetry of love that sung to hungry souls who searched for the light. He was just like Gramps.

I placed my hand over my heart to hold the essence of his love for his wife in there. ‘What colour roses would you like?’

‘Lavender ... if you have them.’

‘Follow me.’ I walked over to the rose corner, the corner of love. Right there was a bouquet of lavender roses in bud form. I had only bound them together late yesterday before I closed the store. I picked them up and handed them to the gentlemen. ‘A gift for your wife—no charge. Please enjoy!’

‘But I need to pa—’

‘You have given me the gift of hope, so I’m giving you the gift of roses. Accept these with thanks and spoil your wife, please.’ I gave him a kind smile, one that made him nod in acceptance.

‘Well ... thank you,’ he said. He left the store with an enormous grin.

They were the second bouquet of flowers I had given away today. I hoped Gram didn’t mind.

Charlotte entered the store in a whirl, encased in the colour of happy yellow. ‘Darcy called me in,’ she said as she went straight to the sales desk.

‘He’s a mind reader. Sometimes I actually wonder who runs the store ...’ I looked over at him, pressed my hands together in front of my mouth and bowed a thank you. He gave me a wink.

I wandered over to the workbench and pulled out the order book. Josh’s “commitment bouquet” was top of the list. I retrieved Gram’s Book of Fantastical Flower Designs and ran my finger down the contents page, looking for a word that was close to what Josh felt for his boyfriend.

Favourite—a person preferred over all others.

That was it. Josh used the word favourite when he described him. Favourite. Page 10.

Dahlia - the symbol of a commitment and

bond that lasts forever.

I raised my eyebrows. I wondered for a moment if Gram’s book was magical. I headed to the cold storage and found a spectacular looking dahlia that had pink outer petals that turned to orange then yellow in the centre. It was called Kogana Fubuki. I grabbed eleven of them, and, as I turned to leave the cold room, a full orange dahlia caught my eye. It would be the perfect highlight in the creation. I looked at the name of them—Gay Triumph. There was that “more”. Perfect. I chose four to take the total number of dahlias to fifteen, then returned to the workbench and arranged them together and wrapped them in natural paper and added a bow of raffia.

I delivered them to Charlotte for when Josh returned to purchase them. He would be pleased, though I was more pleased. I had managed to have them ready after the chaotic morning.

At 10.40am, I slowed my pace and glanced out the front doors on my return to the workbench. Josh was there, hugging a dark-haired guy. When they parted, I saw it was Xander. I looked down at my steel-capped work boots and pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear. Secrets of a florist. Maybe I should grab one of the blank books that aren’t exactly walking off the shelves and start writing a memoir ...

I opened the order book and made a mental note of which flowers to collect from the cold room for the four orders I still had to create. One trip was better than four.

I paused for a moment on my return, with arms full of flowers. Gram was standing at the workbench.

‘Gram. How wonderful to see you!’ I put the flowers down with care before I wrapped my arms around her. With gentleness. She was back to a colour the shade of pink today, reminding me of ballet shoes, tutus and pirouettes.

‘As it is to see you, my darling!’

‘You’re sounding better—am I hearing correctly?’ I stepped back from Gram but kept my hands on her shoulders.

‘Oh—yes. My head is clear. My ears feel clear. No brain fog. I’m like a new woman. Whatever I had is well and truly gone.’ Gram gave me a happy-go-lucky smile.

I dropped my hands from her shoulders. ‘Great to hear. Welcome back!’

‘Yolande, take the day off. You’ve been working so hard!’

‘No, Gram. I came here to help you, and that’s what I’ll do.’

Gran waved me off. ‘Take two days off. Scoot and enjoy yourself—I insist.’

I looked down at my steel-capped work boots. I guess I could go and hide in my studio. I had some unfinished paintings that would pull me into a time warp away from reality. ‘Okay. Thanks, Gram. But if you need me—I’m a phone call away,’ I said, making sure she heard me.

Gram nodded. ‘Now go, before I bring in reinforcements!’ Gram looked over at Darcy. She had him twisted around her little finger.

I untied my apron and hung it on the hook, then released my hair from its ribbon.

I walked over to Darcy. ‘One cup of tea, one chocolate cupcake and one scoop of ice-cream, please.’ I raised an eyebrow at Darcy and waited for his comment that was sure to come.

‘You’re doing that thing again, aren’t you, Andi?’

‘Yep!’ I said.

Darcy turned and collected my favourite teapot and filled it with steaming water. ‘Take a seat. I’ll bring your order to you,’ he said, and frowned at me. ‘Have you finished work for the day?’

‘Yep!’ I said again. Darcy lifted his chin and looked down at me.

I turned and went to sit at my favourite table by the window and closed my eyes. My skin started to tingle. I didn’t like surprises or changes of plans since that terrible day of the scars, and being given the day off was a surprise.

I jigged my legs up and down to burn some of the adrenaline running through my veins as I felt the beginning of my downward spiral. Pull yourself out, Yolande, I told myself. Just because something has changed doesn’t mean something bad will happen ... I opened my eyes and cleared my throat. I had already decided I would go to my studio and paint for the rest of the day. My safe place.

Darcy placed a teapot, teacup and saucer, chocolate cupcake and scoop of ice-cream before me. I picked up my spoon and carved half of the cupcake out and added it to the ice-cream, then looked up at Darcy to see him wince.

‘You have just committed a mortal crime, you know,’ he said.

‘The perfect crime. There will be no evidence by the time I finish.’ I beamed a smile at him.

He shook his head. ‘I like your hair down. It shows the true you.’

Little did he know it was the wrong colour. My natural hair colour was blonde. ‘Messy?’ I asked.

‘No. Wild. And I suspect, like you once were.’ He raised an eyebrow at me.

‘Once upon a time, but not anymore.’ I put my hand under my chin and looked up at him to stop myself from touching or pulling the top of my dress to cover my chest scar that was already covered.

‘Nope. Once a wild child, always a wild child. Your inner giraffe will return when it’s ready.’

I pinched my eyebrows together. ‘Inner giraffe?’ I scoffed.

‘Yeah. I was going to say your inner lion, because lions are fierce and mighty. But a giraffe can kick a lion’s head. You’re a giraffe with steel-capped safety boots!’

A boisterous laugh erupted from me. ‘Thanks, Darcy. I think.’

‘I would like to think I’m a wild horse.’

I poured my tea and added milk, trying to see where his analogy was going. ‘In what way?

‘I can be tamed and bred.’

I frowned at him. Was he being facetious? ‘I think you’re more of a wild elephant.’

‘What?’

‘Of course, you’re—you’re slow to anger, you exude confidence and calmness ... and you’re kind.’

Darcy pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down. He cupped his hands on the table in front of him. ‘Do you like horses, Yolande?’ He raised an eyebrow at me.

‘Yes.’

Darcy’s lips curled up in the corners. Smug.

‘But not wild ones.’

He sat back in his chair and sighed.

‘Don’t you have work to do, Mr Barista?’

‘Yep,’ he said. He stood, pushed in the chair then swaggered back to the kitchen, casting me a sideways glance as he strutted. I gave him a half smile for his effort.

I pulled out my phone to order my personal taxi, but hesitated when the sound of a bicycle bell caught my attention. I looked out the window, and there, just up the street at the bicycle store, were brand new bicycles set out on the footpath.

Hmmm ... could I? After all, I came from the family of the famous Raleigh flower bicycle at Flowers for Fleur!

I picked up my tea and savoured it, looking outside the window trying to picture myself riding a bicycle instead of catching a taxi or being driven by family everywhere. I put my teacup down and dumped the rest of the chocolate cupcake into the ice-cream bowl. Would it be worth buying myself a bicycle? How long would I be here in Tarrin with Gram?

If I bought a bicycle, would I keep the bicycle style in the family and buy a girly Raleigh? Absolutely not! I didn’t want to look dainty and vulnerable—the pretty girl riding a cute bicycle with her wild hair flowing behind her—an object for men to stare at. My only choice could be a men’s road bike—a don’t mess with me, I am capable thank you very much, type of bike. Black.

I balanced the ice-cream bowl on top of the teacup and saucer and picked it up, and in the other hand I grabbed the empty teapot and went over to Darcy. I placed them onto the counter. ‘Perfect crime executed, perfectly,’ I said. ‘Thanks. It was delicious!’ I smiled at him.

Darcy frowned at me. ‘What are you up to, Miss? Where is your taxi and, are you becoming a giraffe?’

‘Nope,’ I said. ‘More like a lion ...’ I turned and started to walk.

‘But lions have courage and strength, Andi.’ Darcy’s voice was soft.

My blood boiled and I turned back to him. Was he insinuating that I had no courage? Was he insinuating that I was weak? Did I appear weak to him? To everyone? I’ll be the first to admit I lived in fear. But who wouldn’t after what had happened to Mia and me.

I walked back to Darcy, slowly. He stared at me, not moving. He was in deep trouble, and knew it.

‘I ... saved ... my best friend ... from being raped. Would you call that courage and strength, Darcy?’ My voice was low. I blinked away the extra moisture in my eyes.

He stared at the bench and shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean it that way—’

‘No? What did you mean? Please explain ...’ I put my hands up in front of him. ‘No ... forget it. I don’t want to know.’ I stared into Darcy’s eyes and pressed my lips together. Disappointment. I was so disappointed with his comment. I turned and stormed out of the store. I didn’t have to prove anything, but now I felt that I had to. Damn you, Darcy!

I walked up the street to the sports store and went directly to the bikes. At once I saw the bicycle I needed. It was a Raleigh—it had to be a Raleigh, that was a must—black. The Vantage RXW. I stopped before it and checked it out. This was it. This is what I needed. I ran my finger over the white, blue and lime green lines than ran across the frame.

‘Andi, hi!’ It was the store owner.

‘Hi, Cooper!’

‘That’s a nice bike ... are you buying for yourself?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ahhh, nice ... the women’s cycles are over here,’ he said and started to walk toward the pastel coloured women’s cruisers.

‘I know, Coops ... but I’d prefer to ride this one,’ I said, and looked up at him.

‘Well ... okay then. Come this way and we’ll size it up for you. When do you want to pick it up?’

‘Now. I’m riding it home,’ I said and smiled at him.

‘Really? In those clothes?’

I looked over at the wall of cycling attire. ‘Of course not. I’m also buying cycling shorts and a shirt and a back pack ... today.’ Great save, Yolande!

‘Excellent. Let me grab my technician for a bike fit, while you choose your cycling gear and a backpack.’

‘Great,’ I said, and smiled at him, then walked to the wall of clothes. I grabbed black shorts and reached for a black shirt, but moved my hand to the multi-coloured shirt—courage and strength, something that would stand out with boldness. Perfect for the lion inside me, and the kick-ass giraffe. I grabbed a black backpack with a splash of green to match my new Raleigh wheels.

Matt appeared beside me. ‘Come this way so we can set up your bike.’ He was young, handsome, and buffed, with way too many girlfriends in his life story to date. He was the colour of red—pure red—energy and power. I followed him to the technician’s area and placed my new clothing on a chair.

‘You need to sit on the saddle, so I can set the correct height for you ... you’ll have to hitch up your dress.’ He frowned. ‘Have you got your cycling shoes?’

‘Yes. I’m wearing them.’

Matt looked down at my steel-capped work boots and chuckled under his breath. ‘Those boots are not—’

‘They’re the shoes I’ll be wearing. Now turn around while I sit on the bike.’ I made a swirly gesture in the air before him.

He turned away from me. I pulled up my dress and cocked my leg over the bike and pulled myself up onto seat, then pulled my dress down so my underwear couldn’t be seen.

‘Ready, Matt.’ I watched as he turned to face me.

His eyes started at my boots, then followed my leg up to the top of my dress. He ran his hand through his hair. ‘Okay. Start peddling so I can see your leg extension ... good ... and stop.’ He wrote down some notes. ‘I need to look at the saddle angle ... ummm—’

I didn’t want him putting his hand on the seat between my thighs. ‘It’s fine as it is. I’ll come back to you if the cycle doesn’t feel right. Just adjust the height of the seat and we’re done.’

‘Are you sure you want a road bike? You look more like a cruise girl,’ he said.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘Go pay for you stuff and I’ll adjust your bike and have it there in a jiffy.’

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Look away while I get off the bike.’

Matt rolled his eyes at me and turned around. I climbed off the saddle, smoothed my dress down, picked up my new bike clothes and backpack and went to the sales counter.

‘Does this mean you won’t be catching a taxi at six o’clock every evening now?’ Cooper said while he processed my purchases.

‘Maybe,’ I said. I didn’t realise he knew my schedule, and it rattled me a little.

‘I’m surprised you didn’t get a bike similar to your Gram’s,’ he said.

I looked down and smiled to myself. ‘Gram’s bike has a love story attached to it. Mine doesn’t. I love my grandmother, but we’re very different.’ I waved my credit card over the machine.

Cooper smiled at me. ‘That maybe true, but you have the same heart.’

‘She’s ready to go,’ Matt said, holding the bicycle beside me.

‘Thank you, to you both, for your help,’ I said, and walked out the door with my shiny new bike.

I went back to Flowers for Fleur and parked the bike outside before I entered and made my way to the powder room, where I changed into my riding shorts and shirt.

‘Bye, Gram. Call me if you need me!’ I called as I left the shop and disappeared out the front door and jumped on my new black bicycle with my new backpack and left.

It had been an age since I rode. They say riding a bike was something you never forgot how to do. It was true. The breeze blew onto my face like a kiss from an angel. It ran its fingers of air through my hair that trailed behind me.

I sucked in a deep breath when I was taken back to my tenth birthday, when I received my pink Raleigh Krush. I was so ridiculously happy.

Mia’s eyes had lit up when she saw my shiny new bike. But then she ran off. I didn’t understand. I thought I had done something wrong. All of a sudden, I wasn’t so ridiculously happy anymore. I rode my bike home and put it in the garage. I didn’t want it if it meant I didn’t have a best friend anymore. I shut the garage door and started to run to the big tree in my backyard where I could sit and hide my tears, when I heard a dinging bell. I turned to see Mia. She had the biggest smile on her face, and a bike, exactly like mine.

‘Now we can ride together, Yoyo!’ Mia said.

I squealed and hugged my best friend. ‘We’ll be like twins, you and me!’

‘Yoyo and Meme!’ Mia said and giggled. 

A car beeped its horn as it went past, pulling me from my ten-year-old self. I so wanted to stay in that memory, when everything was right in the world. I turned into the street where I lived with my parents, temporarily, and at the same time I decided I wouldn’t hide in the studio and paint for what was left of the day. Perhaps I could visit Mia.

Dear Mia.

Or head to the beach. Just me and my bicycle and my steel-capped safety boots.

I cycled the streets of Tarrin, hoping my new wheels would give me some direction. But I found myself feeling lost. And then I stopped behind a fence. A familiar fence. The same fence I had stood behind, hundreds of times with my grandfather—at the airport.

I watched the planes take-off and land, and a couple of helicopters, too. The pure power and feeling of exhilaration vibrated through me, feeding my passion of flight. I never felt that same passion with flower designs. My heart longed for the metal hangers and lecture rooms and flight simulators and top-secret projects that challenged my intellectual cravings. I sighed. It wouldn’t be long until I found myself back in my defence uniform. Gram was well now and wouldn’t need me for much longer. 

I turned my bicycle around when the sun started to cast long shadows. I positioned my foot on the peddle to start riding, but stopped when a text from my mother came through ...

Ma: You need to go back to the store tomorrow.

Me: Is Gram unwell?

Ma: She’s had a car accident.

I’ll talk to you when you get home.

I shoved my phone into my pocket and mounted the bike. I hit the pedals hard to get home. Fast.