They had landed in a quaint area of a bustling city. Thrumps wasn’t too sure exactly where or even what country it was but that never mattered. What did matter was that right across the road from the row of shops they had slotted into was the most beautiful park. All was not as yet clear just what sort of establishment this trip would entail, but that would all be revealed as and when was required, so right now he donned a trench coat, a scarf and a snazzy hat before heading out into the cold.
The ornately designed wrought iron gates were huge, as if at one time they would have need to allow for the passing of horse drawn carriages, but now omitted only those on foot. Thrumps didn’t recognise the crest, but he was in no doubt that it was royal. Tree-lined avenues branched off to left and right, whilst the middle one lead directly to what looked like a lake of some kind. The formal gardens along the route showed the first signs of spring, and although the snowdrops would be feeling very much at home, the crocuses did not seem to be fairing so well. Deer grazed casually but would at one time have been prime for hunting, thankfully those days were obviously long gone. It was still early so the throng of those taking the morning air were few. A couple promenade past, Thrumps doffs his hat but they are too lost in the joys of their own company to notice. He smiles. Affection is never far from all things at this time of the year.
Absently he skirts the edge of the lake past a gorgeous antique bandstand and heads along to the north. Set just before the park meets back to the road is Speaker’s Corner. Once the trading place of public debates, often demanding government changes, it now stands empty and looks a bit forlorn in the dissipating mist. As he passes Thrumps idly wonders if it is ever used, and if so who by.
The road leads him back to the front door. Gently with one finger he traces his initials on the glass. The building sighs with relief and quietly clicks open the latch. It was the smell that hit him first. An intoxicating aroma of what was easily available from the best flower markets known to mankind, the fragrance hanging so heavily that it could not be ignored but overpowering it all was the scent of roses. Not just any kind though, the whole shop floor was awash with bright red ones. Thumps glanced at the calendar as he passed to hang up his coat and laughed. It was Valentine’s Day … he should have known.
As you would now come to realise nothing is ever as simple as it seems as far as The Emporium is concerned and so the roses were not just tokens of affection. Each one was to leave with the promise of much more.
The young man who coyly purchased a single stem, wrapped in paper covered in hearts would finally win the affections of the girl he had so-far been too shy to speak to. The man in the crisp-cut business suit that purchases a dozen lavishly adorned with ribbons and bows would be rewarded with the answer he longed for when he went down on one knee and presented them. As for the old woman that shuffled in for a small bunch in a presentation vase, she would spend this visit to the cemetary not in sadness, but vividly recalling all the good times they’d had shared. And then there were all the others, a stream of customers each vying for whatever it was they desired and each getting it, but not always in the way they might have had in mind. Red roses for the mistress, the receipt discovered by the wife, a single red rose left anonymously but spotted by someone that had expected that attention to be lavished on her and so publicly made her feelings all too clear, and then there are the bunch of roses thrown back, the need for the fighting to stop ending in a break-up.
Just as Thrumps was bolting the door a flustered woman, her cheeks flushed with running pushed her way in.
“Just one rose please,” she panted gasping for breath.
Thrumps wrapped it carefully in a clear covering and attached a heart tied on with a ribbon and presented it to her free-of-charge as she was his last customer. Her smile was radiant and unexpectedly she hugged him.
“I thought I’d missed you,” she explained. “And I knew this was my only hope.”
Thrumps sighed and shook his head.
“Are you sure he is worth it?”
She nodded. “It’s not what you think,” she said. “He’s lost, locked within his mind and this …” she kissed the rose tenderly, “… is my only way of getting him back.”
Thrumps wished her well and closed the door. Out of all the roses brought today, he hoped-upon-hope that this one’s magic would really run true.