Say It With Flowers
Jennifer and Alison were very proud of their classes’ exhibits in the Christmas competition . . .
ALISON and Jennifer stood behind the sales table at the December meeting of the flower club, furtively watching the lady who would be demonstrating that evening.
She was judging the monthly competitions, hovering for a long time in front of the novice class, where there were a dozen exhibits interpreting the title “Christmas Joy”.
“How do you think they’re doing?” Alison asked, referring to five of their own students, all beginners.
“Well,” Jennifer whispered back, “after cajoling them into coming to the club, then telling them they shouldn’t feel nervous about entering the competition, I just hope the judge isn’t hard on them.
“I’m impressed by their arrangements. Considering.”
“It’s the ‘considering’ I’m worried about,” Alison replied anxiously.
“I’m glad that Edna isn’t breathing down the judge’s neck,” Jennifer said. “Do you remember the first time we entered?”
“Only too clearly.” Alison groaned.
“Can you tell which ones belong to our students?”
“More or less. The one on the far left must belong to Jo – she uses the same container for everything. And I’m afraid that the one next to it must be Emily’s – she’s getting better, but she’s not a natural, is she?”
Jennifer stifled a giggle, but stopped when Edna approached the sales table.
“I’ve decided to buy that turntable I ordered a few months ago,” she said without preamble, getting out her purse. “Though I think it’s overpriced.”
“Oh, dear,” Alison said unhappily. “You said you didn’t want it, so I sold it at the Christmas Fayre.”
“You might have asked me!”
“You’ve sold it? Really?” Jennifer asked, as Edna stalked off. “Who bought it?”
“We’d better sit down,” Alison said, distracted. “They’re about to start.”
They headed for their seats.
The demonstration was excellent, with a riot of Christmas colour, but Alison and Jennifer could hardly concentrate on it.
It eventually drew to a close and Doreen rose to give the vote of thanks.
“Not only do we have our inspirational demonstrator to thank,” she announced, “I also want to thank our new members for entering our competition, and I’m delighted to announce the results.
“Before I do, I must thank Alison and Jennifer, who took on the challenge of teaching Edna’s classes. Edna must be very proud of you.”
Edna looked as if she’d just bitten a lemon.
“So,” Doreen continued swiftly, “on to the results.”
****
“Wow!” Jennifer exclaimed to Alison, her face pink with pride as the applause faded. “A second, a third, and two highly commended. We must go and congratulate them.”
The students were standing in a little knot near the tea table, talking excitedly.
“I’m being got at,” Matthew said cheerfully, handing Jennifer and Alison some mulled wine. “The others think I must have had help from Aunt Edna.”
“Well, he most certainly didn’t,” Edna declared, arriving at the same instant. “If I’d helped him, he certainly wouldn’t have only come second.”
There was not even the shadow of a smile on her lips.
Jennifer was saved from answering by Father Christmas – the spitting image of Alison’s husband, Richard – who was giving out presents while eating a mince-pie.
“This must be for you,” he said, handing the last and largest present to Jennifer.
She unwrapped it slowly, already trying to guess what it might be.
“Alison,” she said in a worried tone, “was this from you? You’re the only one who knew I wanted it. And it cost far more than a fiver. You really can’t –”
“I promise you,” Alison said, her eyes dancing, “it wasn’t from me.” “Then who . . .?”
But Jennifer knew it could only have been from one other person.
Her heart was pounding at the thought.
More next issue.