The One. Maria Realf

edible.’

      He grinned. ‘How about flammable?’

      ‘I’m thinking … nope.’

      ‘Spoilsport. What about over there?’ He gestured towards a white-haired woman in a powder-blue suit, surrounded by subtle yet stunning arrangements in tall crystal vases. Blush pinks and soft mauves mingled with creamy neutrals, looking as though they’d just been freshly plucked from a country garden.

       Bingo.

      The florist caught her gaze and waited for them to come closer. ‘Hello,’ she said warmly, extending her right hand. It was soft and crêpey, though her grip was surprisingly firm. ‘I’m Peggy Bloom. How are you today?’

      Lizzie wondered if that was her real name or a clever marketing gimmick. ‘We’re good, thanks,’ she replied. ‘Just on the lookout for some wedding inspiration. I love what you’ve done here.’

      ‘Thank you. When’s your big day?’

      ‘Just under three months away, actually.’ Her heart began to beat faster, ticking rhythmically like a clock. The final countdown … The hit 80s anthem suddenly began playing in her head, and she realised she hadn’t caught Peggy’s last question. ‘Sorry, could you say that again?’

      ‘Is it a church or civil ceremony?’

      ‘Church.’

      ‘What kind of look are you going for?’

      ‘Nothing too fussy,’ said Lizzie. ‘Just something romantic and elegant.’

      ‘Do you have any particular flowers in mind?’

      ‘Yeah, cauliflowers,’ said Josh. Lizzie laughed out loud and tried to pretend it was a tickly cough.

      ‘I’m sorry?’ Peggy looked puzzled.

      ‘We’re open to suggestions,’ said Lizzie, steering the conversation back on course. ‘But I was thinking maybe lilies.’

      ‘Really?’ Josh seemed surprised. ‘They always remind me of funerals. How about roses?’

      She gave him a bemused glance, trying to figure out if he was being serious. The aliens must be back again. ‘Don’t you think they’re a little, you know … clichéd?’

      ‘Not really, but I’m hardly the best person to ask.’ He held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Look Lizzie, if you love lilies, have the lilies. Far be it for me to deny my beautiful bride.’ She suspected that his attempt at feigning interest in flowers was already wearing thin. He snuck a sideways glance in the direction of the stag section.

      She decided to cut him some slack. ‘Look, why don’t you go off and have a look round while I run through our options with Peggy? I’ll come and find you when we’re finished.’

      ‘Really?’ Josh looked unsure, as though he might be snared in some kind of wedding trap.

      ‘Honestly, it’s fine. I won’t be long. Go sort out your stag do or something.’

      ‘Well, if you think I should …’

      ‘I do,’ she nodded.

      ‘OK, then – just give me a call when you’re done. Nice to meet you, Peggy …’ He bounded off before he’d barely finished his sentence, his bright blue T-shirt disappearing into the crowd. Josh’s cheerful exuberance was one of the first things she had noticed about him, and probably explained why he was one of the most popular teachers at his school. That, and his cheeky sense of humour. The pupils knew a big kid when they saw one.

      Lizzie turned her attention back to the florist. ‘Right, so lilies are out, roses are out … any other ideas?’

      ‘Why are they out?’ asked Peggy.

      ‘Yeah, I know he said he didn’t care, but I can’t exactly order lilies now knowing he doesn’t like them. After all, it’s his wedding too.’

      ‘Ah, but flowers are a little like marriage,’ said the florist sagely. ‘Sometimes the secret lies in the compromise.’

      ‘Sorry?’

      ‘Picture this: you walk down the aisle carrying a bouquet of pure white Calla lilies. Maybe eight or ten stems, very tasteful. At the front are two beautiful displays, with Oriental lilies nestled among Vendela and Sweet Avalanche roses. Then, for your reception, we could do miniature versions for the tables. It’d be like the best of both worlds.’

      Lizzie could have kissed her. ‘That sounds perfect,’ she said. ‘How much would something like that cost?’

      ‘How many tables are you having?’

       Hmmm, something else we still haven’t sorted …

      ‘I’m not totally sure yet. Probably about ten.’

      ‘OK, no problem. If you fill out this sheet with your contact details, I can go away and put a quote together. We can always fine tune it later.’

      ‘Great, thanks,’ said Lizzie. She scribbled her details down on the form and passed it back.

      ‘Gosh, that’s a pretty ring.’ Lizzie held out her hand so Peggy could see it more clearly, the square-cut diamond winking under the artificial lights. She had not expected Josh to choose something quite so showy, but it was undeniably dazzling, with two smaller diamonds in the platinum band flanking the main attraction. ‘You’re a lucky girl, dear. I’ll be in touch soon.’

      Lizzie smiled to herself as she ambled off, reminiscing about the day Josh proposed. They’d spent a brilliant afternoon over in Notting Hill, pottering around the vibrant stalls of Portobello Market before catching Spectre at the cinema. They’d cosied up on the back row, munching sweets and missing more of the film than they saw as they kissed like teenagers.

      Afterwards, Josh drove her back to her flat in Shepherd’s Bush and looked at her intently. ‘Are you coming in?’ she asked, wondering why she suddenly felt nervous.

      ‘I can’t right now,’ he said. ‘I wish I could, but I promised Freddie I’d go round to his to watch the game. Wanna come?’

      ‘No thanks. You know I’m not really into football.’ Or Freddie.

      ‘Yeah, I figured. But I’ll ring you later, OK?’

      True to his word, he called at 10.30pm, just as she was about to get ready for bed. ‘Hey,’ he said, a faint crackle on the line. ‘How was your night?’

      ‘Fine. Quiet one. Megan’s out and I thought I’d have a go at some writing.’

      ‘What for?’

      ‘Just for fun. I actually had an idea for a short story.’

      ‘Uh-huh,’ he said distractedly. ‘So did you miss me?’

      ‘Of course. You’re very missable.’

      ‘Maybe we need to come up with a plan so that we miss each other less.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ She paused. ‘You practically live here anyway.’

      ‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I was thinking we …’ She strained to hear what he was saying, but just then the front door buzzer went off and made her jump. Aaaargh. She hated that thing. It always felt like someone had taken a tiny drill to her brain.

      ‘Hold that thought,’ she said. ‘Meg’s forgotten her keys again. I’ll be back in five secs.’

      Throwing the phone onto the bed, she rushed to open the door – only to find Josh on his knees carrying a huge bouquet of roses and a blindingly shiny sparkler.

      ‘So as I was saying, I’ve been thinking … Elizabeth Sparkes, will you marry me?’

      Lizzie was still lost in her romantic reverie when a lady transporting