by Emma Davies
The first thing Flora heard was a bright peal of laughter in the room away to her left, which was followed by a sunny-sounding voice. ‘Oh, go on with you, Brian, you love being mollycoddled so don’t pretend that you don’t!’
She moved towards the sound, looking through the large square room towards the far end to see an elderly couple standing by a counter. It was laden with loaves of bread and enough bottles and jars to make their stash at home look paltry by comparison. Behind the counter stood a tall, willowy woman with softly curling grey hair that reached well past her shoulders. She wore pale jeans and a simple navy tee shirt that should have looked ordinary but instead added to the woman’s elegant bearing. Her face was split into a wide smile. She nodded a welcome as she saw Flora and Ned enter the shop before continuing her conversation.
Flora glanced at Ned and took the opportunity to have a look around. At a guess, she would have said that she was standing in what would originally have been the main living room to the house. The period bay window with its deep sill provided an enticing space for display, but rather than cramming it full with goods, someone with an eye for detail had simply stood a huge blue jug there and filled it with twigs of hazel, cotoneaster, and bright glossy springs of holly. It set the tone for the whole shop which, now that Flora looked, was hung with bunches of herbs, wreaths of dried flowers and a garland of what looked like eucalyptus leaves. She moved closer to get a better look, intrigued by what she saw.
Lost in contemplation, it took a moment for her to realise that Ned was gently nudging her arm. The woman from behind the counter had come to stand beside them.
‘You must be Flora,’ she said, her hand outstretched.
‘Oh…’ Flora replied, startled. ‘Sorry, I was miles away, but yes, I am…’
The woman grinned. ‘And despite the fact that you’re here with Ned, which is a bit of a giveaway, I feel as if I’d know you anywhere.’
Flora took the hand and shook it. ‘Really?’ she asked, looking down at her boots rather self-consciously.
‘Oh yes,’ came the reply. ‘And don’t worry, Hannah provided me with a perfect description of you.’ She laughed, noticing the expression on Flora’s face. ‘Oh dear, I can see that’s worried you even more. But fear not, Hannah had nothing but good words to say… although admittedly she was a little bemused by the range of coloured tights you wear, whereas I, on the other hand, think they’re fantastic.’
Flora blushed. ‘Thank you…’ she managed, realising that today’s choice, pink and orange stripes, were not exactly subtle.
Ned grinned. ‘Flora, this is Grace,’ he said. ‘Who I have known all my life…’
Grace rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, thank you, Ned, for reminding me just how old I am.’ She looked at Flora. ‘Welcome to the village and our humble little shop.’
‘Hardly humble,’ Flora replied. ‘You look as if you sell everything in here. And I was looking at the decorations––’
‘You approve?’
‘Oh yes…’ Flora didn’t mind the interruption at all; she had a feeling she knew exactly who was responsible for them. ‘Just lovely. Perfect in fact.’ She smiled. ‘I used to––’
‘Be a florist,’ said Grace, interrupting again. ‘Yes, I know. And now you’re an artist, I believe. Caroline told me that. Oh, and not horsey…’ She gave a surreptitious look over her shoulder and then turned back to grin at Ned. ‘Thank heavens for that,’ she whispered.
Flora laughed. ‘I can only imagine what Caroline said. I’m not sure she understood the whole artist thing, but then I can’t see the attraction of riding. It looks frankly terrifying and I’ve been invited out on a ride soon… I’m honestly not sure how I’m going to cope with that,’ she confided. ‘Somehow I don’t see Caroline and I ever becoming bosom buddies.’
‘No?’ Grace’s face was a picture. ‘Shame.’ She smothered her grin. ‘And you’re right, Caroline won’t understand you being an artist at all. She’ll think you’re weird, like me. But that’s okay.’
Flora felt the slight tension in her shoulders beginning to ease and she pointed to the wall-hanging. ‘So am I right in thinking that this is your handiwork?’
‘Indeed it is, and all plants from my garden, which is my absolute pride and joy. I can’t help it, I just find myself collecting stuff and then the next minute… well, that was one of the results. Fortunately for me, Bill doesn’t mind my projects overflowing into the shop. He’s the owner,’ she added.
‘I can’t see why anyone would object,’ replied Flora. ‘I think they’re beautiful.’
Grace cocked her head. ‘So what do you do? Something colourful, obviously.’
‘I make prints,’ said Flora. ‘Sketch first, then paint and then, if I like the painting, I go on to make a print. And you can use those on anything; cards, pictures, fabric, wallpaper…’
Grace’s eyes lit up. ‘Can you show me? We could sell them for you if you like. The adjoining room is full of local produce, everything from jam to baby blankets, runner beans – when they’re in season, obviously – to Mrs Jessop’s hideous homemade wine.’ She cupped a hand around her mouth. ‘But don’t tell her I said that.’ She looked at Flora expectantly.
Ned beamed at her. ‘See, I told you,’ he said.
Flora shoved a hand in her bag, fishing around for her phone. She hadn’t realised that Grace meant she should show her right that minute. ‘Hang on…’
‘Here, let me,’ said Grace, relieving her of the basket full of eggs.
Flora smiled her gratitude and after a moment removed her mobile with a flourish. ‘Just a sec,’ she said, as she waited for her Etsy page to load. ‘It’s a bit hard to tell with the pictures being so small, but you get the idea.’ She passed the phone to Grace, who stared at it with wide eyes.
‘Ah…’ She sighed, turning the phone around. ‘Stunning. I knew they would be.’ She looked up at Flora. ‘What’s your Etsy shop called?’ she asked. ‘I’ll have a proper look when I get home.’
‘Daisy Doolittles,’ she replied. ‘Don’t ask me why…’
‘Oh, no… I think that’s perfect.’ She studied the pictures for a few moments more, scrolling through the images. ‘I think, if you weren’t a Flora, that being a Daisy would suit you very well indeed.’ She grinned, handing back the phone. ‘Or at a push, a Poppy…’ She looked down at the basket in her hands. ‘Right, eggs,’ she said. ‘Let me just offload them and you can have the basket back. How many have you brought?’
‘There’s two dozen. Is that all right?’
Grace waved an airy hand as she walked back to the counter. ‘They’ll be gone before tomorrow,’ she replied. ‘Pension day, you see.’ She plonked the basket down and lifted out the trays. ‘Now, did you come in for anything else? You didn’t need to, it’s been lovely just meeting you, but I’m supposed to ask.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Bill is ever hopeful he’ll make a proper saleswoman out of me.’
‘Just some honey please,’ answered Ned.
Flora nodded. ‘Oh, yes. I think there’s one in particular that Hannah…’ She broke off as Grace hoisted a jar aloft. ‘Ah, I see you know which one. It’s very nice. Is it local?’
Grace nodded. ‘Hmm, not too far away. Do you just want one jar?’
‘No, I’ll take a couple please. I was planning on making a honey cake for supper. And I have to confess I like it lashed onto fresh bread just out the oven.’
‘Nothing better,’ said Grace. ‘And don’t worry about paying,’ she added, seeing Flora fish in her bag again. ‘I’ll take the cost off what we pay Hannah for the eggs, same as usual.’
From the hallway came the sound of a tinkling bell as a new customer pushed open the door to the shop. Flora held out her hand for the basket. ‘We should get going,’ she said. ‘But, thank you, Grace. It’s been lovely meeting you.’
Grace beamed at her. ‘You too. So, I’ll see you again,’ she replied. ‘And next time, bring some of your prints in with you.’
Flora blu
shed again. ‘I will,’ she said, raising her hand in goodbye as she made way for the next customer, an excited buzz filling her head. ‘Oh, I definitely will.’
Grace came around the counter to say goodbye.
‘As for you, young man,’ she said, a warm hand on Ned’s arm. ‘Take the greatest care of Flora, won’t you?’
He grinned and pulled Flora in close. ‘Oh, I intend to. Believe me.’
They were halfway home before Flora suddenly stopped, realising that she had walked the entire way without saying a word; her head was stuffing itself full of ideas again.
She turned to Ned ready to apologise for her silence only to find that he was already watching her, an amused expression on his face.
‘You can’t wait, can you?’ he remarked. ‘All those thoughts inside your head whizzing around. I can almost see them, just as if you’d spoken them out loud.’
‘There’s just so much inspiration here,’ she replied. ‘Everywhere you look.’ Her face fell slightly. ‘You won’t let me get carried away though, will you? I’m not going to have time to be sitting around making prints all day, and you know what I’m like; I get engrossed and the day just goes.’
‘So let yourself,’ said Ned. ‘It’s a thing you do, Flora. And you shouldn’t try to deny it. Besides, Grace will now expect a regular supply of things to sell and if you don’t come up with the goods, she’ll want to know why.’
‘Is that okay, though? No one will mind?’
‘Who’s going to mind?’ He gave her hand a squeeze. ‘I think it’s a brilliant idea.’
So did Flora. In fact, it could be the solution to more than one problem.
Chapter Five
Flora turned on her side and snaked an arm across Ned’s chest. The clock showed it was past four o’clock and it would be time for him to get up soon.
‘Are you awake?’ she whispered.
Ned turned towards her slightly, murmuring, but he was still fast asleep, the blankets tucked under his chin. And so Flora lay quietly beside him, fizzing with excitement, until the alarm went off ten minutes later.
Adept at creeping from their bed and getting dressed in the dark, Ned nearly jumped out of his skin when Flora leaned over and turned on the bedside light.
‘Blimey, Flora, you’ll give me a heart attack!’
‘Sorry.’ She grinned. ‘I’ve been awake for ages. I thought I might get up with you.’
He gave her a sideways glance. ‘Are you mad? Why on earth do you want to get up when you can stay here where it’s warm? I wouldn’t be getting up if I didn’t have to, believe me, but the cows won’t milk themselves…’
Flora was already beginning to regret her decision now that Ned had left the bed and a blast of cold air shot underneath the blankets. ‘Well, that’s what I was thinking about actually. I wondered whether I could come and help you today? Then it wouldn’t take so long and you wouldn’t have to get up so early.’
‘Oh aye, trying to entice me back to bed so you can have your wicked way with me, are you?’ He shot her a grin. ‘Don’t tempt me.’ And with that he disappeared towards the bathroom.
Flora lay back for a moment, undecided as to what to do, but then she flung the bedclothes back and sat up. It wasn’t a yes, but then it wasn’t a no either. Hurriedly pulling on yesterday’s clothes, she went downstairs to make them some tea.
‘You weren’t kidding, were you?’ said Ned, fifteen minutes later as he came into the kitchen.
Flora was just pouring hot water into an enormous teapot.
‘No, well I couldn’t sleep so I thought it was about time I made myself useful. The toast is on.’
Ned came across the room to kiss her, nuzzling her neck. ‘I could get used to this. Are you going to get up with me every morning?’
She pushed at him playfully as his still wet hair made her cheek damp. ‘I haven’t decided yet,’ she replied.
He smiled but then his face grew more serious. ‘So how come you couldn’t sleep? I wasn’t snoring again, was I?’
She shook her head. ‘No, not this time, but…’ She gave him a sheepish smile. ‘Well, if you must know, I was too excited. There doesn’t seem to be enough time in the day to do all the things I want to do.’ She busied herself bringing butter and jam to the table.
‘Aw, I think that’s sweet…’
She blushed. ‘Yes, but I feel a bit like a six-year-old.’
Ned put his hands on his hips, smirking. ‘Believe me, you don’t look like a six-year-old.’ He grinned at her choice of outfit. ‘Well, maybe… but you definitely don’t act like a six-year-old… At least you certainly didn’t last night…’
Flora looked over her shoulder. ‘Shhh,’ she said. ‘You can’t say things like that!’
‘Why not?’ He sidled up to her across the kitchen, pulling her close, with a wicked grin on his face.
‘What does a man need to do around here to get a cup of tea…?’ Flora sprang away from Ned as Fraser came into the room. She could feel herself blushing, and was about to apologise, when he chuckled.
‘Go on with you, I was just joshing… Does a man good to see that kind of thing first thing in the morning.’ He took a seat at the table. ‘You’re up early this morning, lass. Bed bugs bite, did they?’
Flora brought a rack of toast to the table and smiled. ‘I just thought I might come and give you a hand this morning,’ she said, brightly. ‘I was awake anyway, so just stick me in a pair of wellies and tell me what to do.’
Fraser’s hand paused on its way to claim a piece of toast. ‘Oh, aye… Ned invite you, did he?’ he said – somewhat carefully, thought Flora.
‘I didn’t think you meant to come out milking,’ said Ned, coming to sit down himself. ‘Just that you’d got up to make breakfast. Were you really thinking you would come out with us?’
Flora looked between the faces of the two men. ‘Why? Isn’t that a good idea?’ she asked, watching Ned’s reaction carefully. His face was open, but there was a definite flicker of something behind his eyes.
‘No, it’s a lovely idea, but it’s bloody freezing out there, Flora. And dark, and it doesn’t get much better the whole time we’re milking.’
‘You manage it though…’
‘Because I’m used to it, but—’ He stopped when he saw the expression on her face.
Flora stuck her tongue in her cheek. ‘It’s okay, I’m not going to give you a hard time.’ She grinned. ‘I know when I’m not wanted.’ She hefted the teapot and began to pour tea into three mugs. ‘And you’re probably right. Whilst they look lovely in the fields, I reckon the cows would be terrifying up close. I’d probably run a mile if one looked at me a bit fierce.’
‘Aye well, they can give you a right good thumping, lass, make no mistake.’ Fraser sank his teeth into a slice of toast. ‘Need a bit of respecting, do cows.’ His expression was hard to fathom and Flora wasn’t at all sure how he viewed her offer of help.
Ned picked up his mug and swallowed a mouthful of tea. ‘It isn’t that you’re not wanted, Flora, not at all, but the farm isn’t a place you can just turn up to and pitch in, not if you don’t know what you’re doing. It can be a dangerous place and we’re… well, we’re a bit under pressure at the moment.’
And there it was again, the slight flicker… Of what exactly? Flora couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
‘Maybe when it gets a bit quieter…’
‘You’re optimistic, lad, aren’t you?’ muttered Fraser. ‘When is that likely to happen?’ He rubbed at his arm and took a swig of tea to wash down his toast. ‘Right then, you ready?’
Ned nodded and shoved a crust in his mouth as he rose from the table. ‘Sorry, Flora,’ he said. ‘I’ll catch you later.’ He bent to give her a kiss.
She smiled. ‘Ned, it’s fine, honestly. Go on, off you go. I’ll see you in a bit.’
And then she was on her own in the quiet kitchen surveying the remains of the hasty breakfast. It was, as Ned had said, pitch black outside, and
a glance at the clock confirmed it had just gone five in the morning. What on earth was she going to do now?
She sat nursing her own cup of tea for quite some time, eating a piece of toast although she had no real hunger for it. It was far too early for food and, besides, so much was eaten later on when the men came back for their ‘proper’ breakfast that eating anything now was just silly.
What Ned had said made perfect sense and she hadn’t even considered that the business end of the farm wasn’t a safe place for her to be in until she knew what she was doing. The trouble was, of course, that she would never get to know unless someone showed her the ropes and that wasn’t looking likely to happen any time soon. Cooking and keeping house was all very well, but she wanted to do more. She wanted to be by Ned’s side physically as well as emotionally, working with him day by day, sharing the load, but that was something else she would have to learn, it seemed. She had thought that their life together would include an equal division of labour, but every time the subject came up, the dividing line came down to gender and it was a line she was clearly going to find difficult to cross.
Draining the last of her tea, she carried the mugs and plates over to the sink, leaving them there to wash later, and then she wandered back upstairs and into their bedroom. It was even too early to feed the hens, but so far she hadn’t had the opportunity to properly unpack her art materials and, after her conversation with Grace yesterday, she was itching to use them again. When she’d been at the shop all day she always had her sketchbook and pencils with her at the very least and, once home, she would pick them up whenever inspiration or the inclination struck. She could often be found with a sandwich in one hand and a paintbrush in the other, but unless she found a way to make it work, that was never going to happen here. Still, with nothing else around the house that needed attending to straight away, now could be the perfect time. Ned certainly didn’t have a problem with her print-making, and well, maybe everyone else would just have to get used to it. Apart from anything else, it might be the only way she could get any money together while she was here.
