The Last Rose...

The Last Rose of the Summer

Phil Tulip was almost home. Nearly there. The traffic on the drive home hadn’t been as bad as usual. He glanced at the row of shops as we went by. He was surprised to see that one of the stores had changed completely. The premises that had been Happy Days takeaway shop had been taken over. The shop had sold all kinds of take-out food, specialising in burgers and kebabs. The former takeaway shop was now a florist according to the bright new hoarding. Phil slowed as he drove by the new shop. Wyndham’s Florist. There was a hand-written note pinned to the shop window. Bespoke delivery service now available.

Phil tutted. He was rather disappointed to have lost the kebab shop. Their kebabs had been just amazing. There was nothing better than a few beers in the pub, and a kebab on the way home. But, his fast food shop was gone, transformed into a florist, of all things. He could hardly see himself frequenting the shop, the way he’d been a regular of the fast-food joint.

The following morning, Saturday, he breakfasted on tea and toast, and watched the television news. Through his living room window, he spotted his neighbours, Tom and Laura. They were standing on their doorstep, deep in discussion. Laura, was holding a bunch of flowers. They looked rather confused. Phil got on well with all his neighbours, revelling in the community spirit that the surrounding area had. He headed out to check if everything was okay.

‘Are you guys alright?’ He asked.

‘It’s a bit strange really.’ Laura said. ‘We’ve had these flowers delivered just now. The card says congratulations on your engagement.’

‘And you’re not engaged?’ Phil guessed. ‘Is it somebody’s idea of a joke?’

‘That’s the weird thing.’ Tom waved the small ring-box in his hand. ‘I was going to pop the question this evening.’

‘Maybe one of your friends or family was jumping the gun, knowing Laura would say yes.’ Phil suggested.

‘Nobody knew about it. I didn’t tell anyone.’ Tom said.

‘Who does the card say the flowers are from?’ Phil asked.

‘It’s not signed, a blank card with just the name of that new florist.’ Tom said. 

‘Maybe they can tell us who sent the flowers. We should call round there.’ Laura said. 

Phil told them he hoped they got to the bottom of it and headed back over the road. As he went back home, he left the couple, still discussing how strange the whole thing was, to make their way over to the flower shop. 

A while later, Phil’s phone pinged, one new message. According to Tom’s text message, the flower show was closed and in darkness, despite the sign saying Now Open. It was so strange. There wasn’t a phone number or website listed on the shop front. Phil replied asking if the couple were now engaged. When Tom replied they were, despite the florist ruining the surprise, Phil tapped out a quick message.

That’s the main thing. Congrats to you both!

A few days later, as Phil was getting in the car, to head to work, one of his neighbours was picking up a parcel that had been left on her doorstep. Sally waved and bid him good morning.

‘Morning, Sal. Have you ordered something nice?’ He asked. 

‘I can’t think what it could be.’ She said, ripping open the top of the box.

She pulled out a large teddy bear. The toy bear wore a bright blue sash that said, Good luck in your new job. 

‘This is so strange. I did go for an interview yesterday, for a job in the city centre. It’s a massive step up for me. I don’t think I’ll get it.’

Phil wished her luck and turned to unlock his car. At that moment Sally’s mobile phone rang. As he climbed in his car and started the engine, Sally shrieked with delight, really, so I’ve got the job? As Phil pulled off the drive, and passed his neighbour, he noticed the marks on the box the teddy bear had come in. Wyndham’s Florist.

All that day at the office, something niggled at him. He could still see the florist logo on the box and the confusion on Sally’s face. What was going on with the flower shop? The store had delivered not only things that hadn’t been ordered, but seemed to be celebrating events that had not yet happened. This was just so strange. It was also odd that he had never seen the flower shop open, and that with no number mentioned, there was no way to contact them. How were you supposed to order? You could hardly call in and order in a shop that was always closed. 

On Friday night, Phil met his friends in the local pub. The Nag’s Head was like a home away from home, it had comfy chairs and sofas, an open fire, and more importantly, a cracking selection of draught ales. He joined his friends, two lads he’d known for years, at a table by the fire. As they drank their pints of beer, and munched on crisps and dry-roasted peanuts, one of the lads, Ian, gave Phil a nudge.

‘You know, my brother lives on your street? Someone played a weird prank on him the other day.’ Ian said.

‘Really? What happened?’

‘My niece had her driving test on Tuesday morning. Five minutes after she’d left for the test centre, a bunch of flowers were delivered. The card said well done on passing your test.’ 

Phil took a long swig of beer. This was all starting to sound very familiar. His other friend, Tony, suggested the obvious answer. 

‘So the florist delivered the flowers early? Should they have been delivered the day after? Was it from her grandparents or something?’

Ian shook his head.

‘They didn’t tell anyone about Jenny taking her driving test. She didn’t want anyone to know, in case she failed. Nobody knew.’ Ian said.

‘And she did pass her driving test?’

‘Yes, she did. She did really well, apparently.’

As Phil asked a question he already had an idea of what the answer would be.

‘Who did the card say the flowers were from?’

‘The card wasn’t signed, just the printed name of some new florist in the neighbourhood.’ Ian shrugged.

The next morning, Phil decided to check out the florist himself. He shrugged into his jacket and head over the road to the flower shop. The sign on the glass door said Now Open and boasted of the Bespoke Delivery Services. Despite the inviting signs, the lights were off and the shop was dark in the Northern gloom. He banged a hard fist on the door, calling out, hello? Anyone there? He leaned in close, nose almost touching the glass, peering through the window. There was no sign of life in the store, no staff milling about, arranging plant and flower displays. He couldn’t see any shop workers but the flowers filling the shelves were the most wonderful blooms he’d ever seen. 

This was all so strange. He suddenly had an inkling that half the neighbourhood will have been receiving these strange florist deliveries prior to the event. A wave of panic washed over him. He banged on the door, pounding away, calling out, shouting and yelling. He called out asking what was going on, why they were doing this.  

The following afternoon, Phil returned home from work as usual. He pulled up outside his house and headed for his front door. Then he stopped. He stared in confusion at what was lying on the doorstep. There was a large bunch of flowers seemed sinister somehow. He picked up the flowers and pulled the card from the wrapping. The writing on the card said For the woman in the red coat. The card was printed with the Wyndham’s florist logo.

He looked around. A woman was walking by, she was wearing a red coat and looks close to tears. Quite unsure what to do, or what was going on, he called out.

‘Excuse me?’

The woman turned to face him.

‘You look like you could do with these.’ He said, handing her the bunch of flowers.

‘Oh, really? Thank you so much.’ She said.

‘Are you okay?’ He asked.

‘Just having one of those days, know what I mean?’

‘I know exactly what you mean. Do you fancy going for a drink?’ Phil said.

‘Yes, she said. I’d like that.’

‘I’m Phil.’

‘I’m Lucy.’ She smiled.

The next morning, he was surprised to find the florist shop was gone. All signs of the flower shop had been removed. He peered through the window again. The store was a completely empty shop, gone were the delightful flowers. The store seemed to be more dark and gloomy than ever. It was as though the florist had never been there. He sensed that the store had served whatever strange purpose it had in the area. He suspected that another region of the city would be now be receiving these strange deliveries. 

He was meeting Lucy again that evening. He wouldn’t say anything to her about the flower shop, or the strange delivery, that had introduced them. She would think he had lost his mind. 

A few days later, things were going well with Lucy, they were seeing more and more of each other, but the creepy florist was still at the back of his mind. He decided to do a bit of digging, see what he could find out about the strange flower shop. He checked on line, searching for Wyndham’s Florist. The search engine quickly responded, no results found. That was strange. He always found that whatever you searched, even if it was mistyped, the internet search would always come up with something. 

He tried another way, this time searching the words Wyndham flowers. The only result was a newspaper story from 1942. With little else to go on, he read the story, it may hold the answers he was looking for.

According to the article, a soldier fighting in the Second World War, by the name of Joe Wyndham, had planned to marry his sweet-heart Alice on his next home leave. Tragically, Alice had been killed during an air-raid days before his return. Instead of getting married, Mr Wyndham ended up attending his fiancée’s funeral. Rather than starting his new life, he was burying his beloved. The local florist tended to the funeral wreaths, and her name in flowers, rather than the bouquet and wedding flowers.

Mr Wyndham commented at the time that when he returned from the war, he would open up a flower shop in Alice’s honour. Alice had always loved flowers. He used to get such a thrill out of giving her flowers. When he got out of the army, he would set up a flower shop, dedicated to his love for Alice, and would share her love of flowers with the city. 

Phil knew that he had found the answer. Joe Wyndham had obviously come home from the war, to open the flower store for his lost love. Maybe his children or grandchildren had taken over in the decades that followed.  It certainly was a rather unique flower shop. It was still so very strange how the florist managed to pre-empt events.

Phil read on, eager to find out the end of the story. 

In a tragic end to the sad story, Mr Wyndham was killed in battle before he could return home, and his dream of a florist was never realised. Phil gasped. He had a sense that, on some strange level he couldn’t understand, somehow Joe had got his wish. 

When Phil and Lucy were married two years later, Lucy received an extra wedding bouquet of flowers, the card simply read, Congratulations, JW.

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom