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“Lily, this sounds crazy, but I’d really like to see you


again…” Michael said. “Me too,” Lily added a little too quickly. “Except that, after my sister’s, I’ve got to go straight


back out in the desert.” “Oh.” Lily felt ridiculously bereft. “I’ll be back here next Christmas though,” Michael


said as if it was a promise. “For good this time. Twelve more months and then I’m out, back on Civvy Street. How about I come back for you, this time next year – take you out for a Christmas drink?” Lily wanted to say a lot


suitors. You could be remarried by now, letting a man take care of you again.” “I don’t need a man to take care of me,” Lily


of things, like couldn’t we tweet or email or perhaps even Skype every now and again? Wouldn’t there be more leave, more chances to see each other? Do we really have to wait a year? But when she looked in his eyes she knew the reasons why she couldn’t say any of those things. She would be tempting fate, Michael’s fate. If he walked back into the shop in a year’s time, then he would have made it. At least, that was how Lily remembered it, how


about stuff that wasn’t real – and he was right


in the clouds, her nose in a book, dreaming


she had her head always said Her ex


insisted. “And it doesn’t matter how many suitors I’ve had, if you can call Darren the delivery man a suitor. If they’re not right, they’re not right.” “You can’t be picky at your age,” Mrs Jessop said. “When did Mr Jessop pass away?” Lily asked, pointedly. “Eighty-nine,” Mrs Jessop said. “And I still miss him, every day. The silly old beggar, he wouldn’t stop smoking.” “More than 20 years ago.


More than 20 years and you’ve never wanted another man. Who are you to talk about being picky?” asked Lily.


“The difference is I was married for 40 years. I knew I’d lost the love of my life. You think the love of your life


she replayed it over and over again in her head. Mrs Jessop had said she was imagining it, and perhaps she was. Her ex always said she had her head in the clouds, her nose in a book, dreaming about stuff that wasn’t real – and he was right. Soon after they had split, Lily realised it wasn’t her husband that she was missing when she cried herself to sleep at night – it was the love that she had yet to meet. “I suppose you’re still mooning on about that


soldier,” Mrs Jessop said as Lily swept the counter clean of cuttings and leaves, ready to open the shop at eight. Christmas Eve fell on a Saturday this year, and she had every reason to believe that it would be her busiest day of trading yet. “In my day there was none of this menopausal nonsense. We just got on with it and that was that.” “I’m not menopausal!” Lily exclaimed. “I’m only 41.” “Past your best, anyway,” Mrs Jessop said, mildly.


“In any case, another day moping about over some solider isn’t going to get you anywhere. You’ve had


130 DECEMBER 2011 | CANDIS.CO.UK


is some chancer that came in here and sweet-talked you out of your first ever profit. All year you’ve been gazing out of that window, thinking about him. All through the snowdrops and hyacinths, the daffodils and tulips. Right through the gerbera, lilies, roses, gladioli. Through a whole year of beautiful flowers that you’ve been picking the petals off, wondering if he loves you or he loves you not. Well, I hate to break it to you – again – but it’s not.” Lily bowed her head. It was all too true – that one


conversation had sustained her romantic soul for 12 months. In her heart she knew that after today, when Michael didn’t come back, she’d give herself a good talking to and resolve to get on with her life, starting with cooking Mrs Jessop Christmas dinner. “I’m fond of you, despite all this nonsense about no


tinsel,” Mrs Jessop sighed. “But, it’s time to face facts – don’t waste your life missing someone who is never coming back. Take it from me, it’s a lonely existence.” “I know,” Lily said heavily, unbolting the front door


and turning the closed sign to open. “It’s just… it was nice. I like missing someone who might be missing me too. It was… romantic.” “For all we know he’s dead,” Mrs Jessop said just as the bell of over the door jingled loudly and a blast of


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