Bethany looked after the woman who bustled away, her mouth slightly open and the last morsel of her muffin poised between her mouth and the plate that had just been swept away, momentarily forgotten. She collected herself and turned to her table companion.
'You know, I know I should like Mrs. Galloway; she does so many good things, she's always busy helping people; see even now she's collecting plates when Jenny's supposed to be doing it; but she somehow irritates me.' She gestured to the slightly stooped woman and her ever-growing stack of dirty plates.
Marcus nodded knowledgeably.
'Ah, so she's a rose-grower then.'
Bethany frowned slightly, resisting asking what he meant by that until she had had a good think about it. Marcus smiled.
'There are rose-growers everywhere,' he explained expansively. 'They grow the most beautiful roses; they spend every waking hour tending their precious roses, roses which bring delight to the world: on Valentine's Day, on birthdays and anniversaries, to lovers, to lost loves, to new loves, to say sorry, or to say welcome, or to say congratulations or thankyou. A rose-grower's family takes pride in their roses; a rose-grower's neighbours boast of their view. But the rose-grower is so busy growing roses that she never stops…'
Bethany's face lit up as she realised where Marcus was going with his analogy and joined in the final words, 'to smell the roses.'
She smiled and looked back to Mrs Galloway.
'Yes, she does good things but takes no delight in it.'
Marcus made a sound of agreement. 'And she probably thinks it is best that way, and that doing good things for pleasure is purely selfish.'
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