Clover

Two elderly women (one tall and black, the other short and white) are walking towards the bus-stop.  The tall woman is pushing a wheely shopper.  It is late and I approach to ask my question.

'I've got a beautiful middle name', says the woman taking one hand off her shopper and waving it in the air.  'But I'm not giving it away'.  She is wearing a pink scarf on her head from which her hair protrudes at odd angles.  I look disappointed and ask for a clue.  She considers.  'It's the name of a flower', she says.  I start to guess.  Her companion, whose hair is in a neat bob, joins in.  'Hyacinth?' she suggests.

The tall woman shakes her head.  'It begins with 'c'', she concedes, pulling her trolley towards the seat.  An Arabic lady in a beige coat is leaning against the stop smoking a cigarette.  'You've got us all intrigued now', she says.  The three of us work through Clematis, Carnation, Chrysanthemum and Camellia.  Finally, her short companion, tentatively suggests the answer.  'I told you you'd never heard of it before', says the tall woman sitting down with satisfaction.  I tell her my middle name.  She laughs.  'Clover in the meadows', she says.  'Careful now', says the Arabic lady.

'Nice to meet you', says my middle name.  I agree and we wish each other safe journeys home.