wl_fanfiction | A Dozen Red Roses

I apologize about the lateness of me posting this stupid LJ decided to have a tantrum on me *sighs* Anyway, enjoy!!

Title: A Dozen Red Roses
Chapter(s): 3/6
Characters: Josie, Greg, Tony, Caroline
Pairing: Josie/?
Rating: PG-13 (For swearing)
Summary: Josie recieves a mysterious Valentine but who is it from?

As the morning’s games unfolded Josie found that the roses were driven from her mind, which was focused solely on improvising.
“We’re now going to move onto a game called props.” Clive consulted his cards. “You divide into two pairs of two for this,” Clive explained to the performers and the audience.

“Now… Caroline and Tony this is your prop” Clive reeled of a little monotonously, in dire need of a tea break. Tony grinned at Clive, hitting him gently with long foam tube, to much audience laughter and a “Get off Tony!” from the good natured host.

“And Greg, Josie this is your…prop” Clive faltered, a small smiling forming on his lips as he passed them what looked like to halves of a heart. Josie gaped open mouthed as Greg handed her one of the halves, glancing down at her watch she saw the time 12:30pm.

Pinned to her half of the soft pink foam was the distinctive, elegant form of her fifth red rose, and the now familiar handwriting spelling her name across the paper. Greg smiled at her whispering in her ear,
“You could always put it in our jug of water until commercial break.” which earned him an attack by the pink foam.

Thankfully Josie managed to keep the rose a secret from the audience, and intact as they used the pink foam prop carefully to come up with laughs.
“Keep it safe Clive,” Josie had whispered as she returned the prop back to the host.

*****

As they broke for a fifteen-minute break Josie retrieved her rose from the discarded box of props and retreated to the privacy of her dressing room to read the attached letter. She pushed closed the white door, padding across the green carpet to sit down on the dressing table, back to the lit up mirror and her feet resting on the straight-backed wooden chair.

JOSIE,

WITH THE HALFWAY ROSE COMING NEXT I’M DELIGHTED YOU HAVEN’T DISCOVERED MY IDENTITY YET. IT’D RUIN THE SURPRISE AND PROBABLY LET YOU DOWN.

Josie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. In her eagerness to find out the sender of the roses, she hadn’t considered that he’d gone to a lot of effort to remain hidden and keep her guessing.

I EXPECT YOU’VE BEEN PANICKED ABOUT MY ATTENTION TO DETAIL WHEN IT COMES TO YOUR ROUTINE. YOU’LL JUST HAVE TO TAKE MY WORD THAT I’M NOT A STALKER. I JUST LISTEN TO WHAT YOU TELL ME.

ENJOY YOUR NEXT ROSE.

Josie found herself reading it over several times, her mind wanting to retain every detail, from the messy writing to the sentiment behind the words. Josie found herself once again gazing dreamily at her roses, their subtle aroma delighting her nose and filling her with a true sense of what romance was all about. He stomach squirmed with excitement, as it hit her that someone out there really loved her.

“Well Mr. Dozen-roses, I certainly hope we meet one day.” she breathed, not noticing that her door had opened slightly more than it had when she had entered. That a pair of soft, brown eyes were twinkling with happiness as their owner’s gift was appreciated. That a soft whisper escaped his lips.“We will Josie. I promise.”

*****

It was when she entered her favourite café with Tony, Caroline and Greg in tow that Josie longed to kick herself for the predictability of her choice in where to lunch. The little, friendly café had a welcoming air, even if it was worn and dated, with its plastic chairs and tables, checked plastic table cloths, on which sat a metal place number. A laminated menu took pride of place in the centre, showing a variety of cooked meals, all of them decidedly English, and an assortment of sandwich fillings, which oddly enough doubled as jacket potato fillings in most cases.

Also ready for use was a china salt and pepper shaker, two silver pots of white and brown sugar Josie would never use because there was always a lump of clogged up, coffee coloured white sugar where someone had picked up a spoonful, dipped it in their drink, stirred it and dipped it back in again. A small vase also took pride of place on each table, with a pretty pink carnation in it.

Greg and Josie slid along the back wall with the mirror against their backs, having dibbed the long plastic booth that always runs along the back of that sort of café and provides seating for everyone along the back wall, which are always inexplicably popular. Tony and Caroline sat begrudgingly opposite in the fixed chairs.

It was purely by chance Josie’s attention was found by the clock on the wall as she gazed at the tacky pictures hung around the establishment, trying to decide whether to have beans or tuna mayonnaise on her jacket potato.
“1:25pm.” She breathed more to herself than anyone in particular. “Wonder if he knows that I came here?”

“Only one way to find out,” whispered Greg kindly, nodding towards the glass counter which housed a variety of cakes such as doughnuts, iced buns, Easter biscuits and flapjacks and two large homemade cakes which today were carrot cake and jam sponge dusted with snow-like icing sugar, which appeared to be the more popular choice. Behind the glass bustled waitresses making a host of hot drinks and accepting green, orange and on the odd occasion purple notes with a cheerful tinkle of the till.

Once everyone had decided what they were eating, Tony warning Greg off of some of the more disgusting English dishes, Josie went up and ordered for table twelve, returning with three teas, one coffee and a single red rose, which put the cheerful pink carnation to shame. On the note this time were only seven words:

JOSIE,

ENJOY YOUR JACKET POTATO AND BEANS.

“How did he know that’s what I was getting? I couldn’t even decide.” Josie pondered with her friends who were just as stumped as she was.