‘Morning there,’ said the bearded man who ran the stall. ‘How are you today?’
Flint shrugged and slipped his hands into his pockets. ‘Not bad,’ he said, ‘you know.’
‘The usual?’
Flint scratched the back of his neck. ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘cheers.’
The man looked at Flint curiously, but said nothing. He pulled ten tall stems of candy-pink roses from a green bucket, selecting the fattest buds, and tied them loosely together with cream ribbon. Flint handed him a £20 note and took the flowers and his change.
‘If you don’t mind me asking,’ said the man, after a long pause, ‘the flowers. Nearly every day for the past three weeks. Who are they for? Wife? Mum? Girlfriend?’
‘No,’ said Flint, ‘they’re just for a friend.’
‘A good friend, by the look of it.’
‘Yeah,’ said Flint, ‘one of the best. Too good for me.’
‘How’s that?’
‘Oh. You know. It’s easy, isn’t it? So easy just to be – you know – selfish …’
‘Oh well. There aren’t many of us around who aren’tselfish, mate. It’s the human condition. Self-preservation. You gotta put yourself first – nobody else is going to.’
‘Yes but – it’swrong.Just because it’s the human condition, it doesn’t make it right, you know. We should be able to rise above it. Look out for other people.’
‘So,’ said the florist, ‘what happened then. What was it?’
‘Overdose.’
‘Suicide?’
Flint shrugged. ‘We’re not sure yet.’
The florist sucked in his breath. ‘That’s bad,’ he said, ‘that’s very bad. But you can’t tie yourself up in knots over it. For a person to do something like that – well, they’ve reached rock bottom, haven’t they? There’s nothing anyone can do when someone’s reached the end of the line.’
‘Yeah there is. There’s always something someone can do. You never heard that story about the man on the bridge? And that other guy who talked him down?’
‘Yes – but what happened after? That’s the real question. He stopped him that time, but who the hell knows what happened next? Eh? Next time the guy was feeling down? And there was no one there to talk him out of it? You know – this friend of yours – how d’you know you hadn’t already saved her a few times already? How d’you know you haven’t said a kind word at the right time, taken her out for a drink on a bad night, given her something to look forward to when there was nothing? Eh?’
Flint shrugged. The man’s words were of no comfort to him. ‘I was supposed to be looking after her,’ he said. ‘It was my …job.’
‘What-literally?’
‘Yeah. At one time. I was her minder, you know. Notfor a while, not for years, but I never really lost that feeling that she was my responsibility. She didn’t have anyone else, you see …’
‘Listen, mate. You can’t be everywhere at once. You can’t protect people from everything. Believe me. I’ve got three kids. I know. And it doesn’t matter how much you want to control things, people will make their own decisions, ultimately. It’s all about choice. People make choices and other peoplecannottake responsibility for that.’
‘Yeah,’ said Flint, running out of steam now, patting the flowers up and down against his forearm, enjoying the feel of the silky petals and prickly leaves tickling his skin, ‘yeah. Maybe you’re right. But it doesn’t make it any easier to sleep at night. You know …’
The florist nodded and smiled. ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘I know.’
‘But – thanks. For the chat. Thanks.’
‘No problem. See you tomorrow, then, mate?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, tapping the flowers harder and harder against his arm, ‘yeah. See you tomorrow.’
He climbed back into his car and drove slowly to the car park, his tyres crunching against loose chippings on the road. He parked the car and began the walk across the cemetery to Bee’s grave.