Look Back at Me (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 1)

Oliver Holyoake Advises

After the dance practice, Viola left Yola in the company of John, not sure which one would be charming whose knickers off. Thursday evening was the opening evening of the Winter Festival, and John had invited them both for dinner, with Nana, Clem, Will, and Fiona - and possibly Rhys and Oliver - joining them later, but Viola was feeling exhausted. The last few days had been so irregular she just wanted to climb in her bed and read her new Olivia Dane.

When she parked her car in front of the surgery, she dropped her head back and closed her eyes. A knock came to her window, making her jump up with a gasp. Gathering her bearings, she lowered the window, and Fenton leaned to her.

"I'm heading out to dinner in the Oak and Shield," he said in a grumpy tone. "Would you like to join me?"

"No, thank you, Alan," she answered. "I think I'll just have an early night."

"It's the first day of the Festival," he said, giving her a shocked look. "Didn't anyone ask you out for tonight?"

Someone had. Earlier that day she'd received a text from James Whitlaw inviting her to 'grab a bite' with him in the pub, and the Holyoakes had probably expected her to join them. The day before, one of her patients, Leo Onions, the son of Fiona and Will Holyoakes' neighbour, had asked her out for the night as well. And this morning another acquaintance from Fleckney Fields had tried. She, obviously, had refused every single one - mostly, because when she'd moved to Fleckney, she'd been adamant romance just wasn't in the books for her. There was always a chance of her falling madly in love with someone and getting herself the third husband, but Viola had considered the option laughable. Rhys was obviously an exception - not that she quite understood what was happening between her and Rhys.

"I'm just too tired, Alan," Viola answered and picked up her handbag.

She stepped out of her Panda. Fenton still lingered and watched her with a frown.

"Are you sure? I distinctly remember you mentioning you loved the Festival and were going to go to every single event," he said.

"Enjoy your evening, Alan," she said softly and headed to the entrance to the flat.

"Flowers were delivered for you an hour ago," he said behind her, and Viola's hand froze on the door handle. "Mrs. Tomlin's shop will be sending you a cut soon," he grumbled.

"Good night, Alan," Viola said with a laugh, waved to him without turning, and walked in.

This time, the bouquet consisted of a dozen large roses, of delicate lilac colour, white freesias, and panicgrass, tied with a lilac silk ribbon. It was simply perfect - and Viola leaned in and touched the tip of her nose to a gentle petal.

The card inside had a writing in Rhys' spidery handwriting.

Give me a call if you'd like.

R.

Viola read it again. A note in a bouquet, which one couldn't predict when she'd get, was an oddly inefficient way to contact her. She carried the bouquet into her bedroom, arranged it on a low side table she'd recently purchased, and picked up her phone.

"Evening," he answered after just one tone.

"Hi," she said, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "Thank you for the flowers, they are lovely."

He hummed in response, and she could hear he was in a loud crowded place.

"Is it a bad time?" she asked. "Sorry, I just saw your card now, and–"

"Is that Viola?" someone, most likely Yola, asked near him.

He seemed to walk away from them, and a few seconds later she heard him step outside.