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house mascot? Every time Meg walked in the door, there was Tanya, asking about her day, cooking her dinner, arranging her time. Often, it felt as if Meg still had one leg in the relationship, the other dangling over some precipice she was too scared to look over.
    Meg pushed open the door to her room and collapsed on her unmade bed, the sheets tangling uncomfortably beneath her. Her eyes flicked around her room — the room that used to be their room, but was now hers alone. She should get new bedding — Tanya had done so straight away. Maybe change the lampshade, hang some new curtains. Plus, the walls could do with a lick of paint too, the pale blue they’d chosen three years ago now seeming to represent a cold prison of her own making.
    Meg had to talk to Tanya again; the situation had to change. She couldn’t carry on like this and expect to move forward. Up until now, she’d been too lazy to push it, too scared to deal with the rest. Even her mum had stopped asking her when she was selling the house as often, with Meg having jumped down her throat about it one too many times.
    And Meg knew nothing would ever happen with Kate. Of course it wouldn’t. The woman had just come into her shop to get some flowers for her uncle’s funeral; she hadn’t come in for a date. Besides, someone like her was bound to have a girlfriend.
    They usually did.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    7
     
    The next day at work, Kate managed to have a meeting with her publisher and sort out a magazine shoot before her finger clicked onto the Fabulous Flowers website. Once there, she again admired the design and kicked herself for not telling Meg that. She’d planned to, but after Meg revealed herself to be a florist goddess, all rational thought had flown from Kate’s head. Next time .
    Kate clicked on the About Us page and saw a photo of Meg and her mum, Olivia, grinning at the camera while holding some expensive-looking flowers. Apparently Olivia had opened the florist over 30 years ago and Meg had joined straight from school, learning the ropes on the job. Now that Olivia was nearing retirement, Meg was taking over the family business. No mention of Meg’s husband working at the business or her children, which kept a faint glimmer of hope alive in Kate’s chest.
    However, she quickly brushed it away. Florists are not known for being lesbians . Or was Kate guilty of the sort of stereotyping she would baulk at? After all, it takes all sorts as her mum was constantly pointing out to her. Maureen was still getting over the fact that “that nice BBC newsreader is a lesbian, too”. She always clicked her tongue when she said it.
    Kate went back to the main page and opened up Meg’s email outlining the popular funeral packages. She was deep into her task, so didn’t hear Dawn creeping up behind her.
    “Who’s the lucky lady?” Dawn leaned on Kate’s desk, as was her habit. She was sucking on a lollipop and slurping like a small child, which didn’t endear her to Kate.
    “Nobody — it’s for my uncle’s funeral, remember?”
    Dawn looked suitably chastised. “Right, sorry.” She paused. “Is this the place you went to yesterday?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “And how are florists in the suburbs these days?”
    “They’re okay,” Kate smiled.
    Dawn eyed her suspiciously. “That was a devilish smirk from you Ms Carter — what happened at the florist?”
    Kate leaned back in her chair and stretched. “Let’s just say, the flowers weren’t the only pretty thing in the shop.”
    Dawn’s face lit up, but Kate held up her hand.
    “And before you get excited, the florist is not a lesbian. I didn’t pick up one gay vibe from her. She was just a hot florist, that’s all.” Kate shrugged. “Clearly I should just steer clear of florists in future to avoid crushing disappointment.”
    “But you are going to see her again?” Dawn’s face was still creased with excitement.
    Kate rolled her eyes. “Were you listening to any of the words