Flora's Lot

by Katie Fforde

  Charles nodded. Flora didn't look at Annabelle. 'Well, he's been staying with me and he's going today.’

  She laughed, hoping she didn't sound shrill. 'I'll be fine on my own, of course, but he's company and a great cook.'

  ‘Oh,' said Annabelle.

  Flora regarded her and wondered if her low spirits had instantly affected Annabelle.

  ‘Can I have a word, Flora?' Annabelle asked.

  Flora suddenly remembered about Annabelle's mobile phone number not being in William's possession and why. Luckily she knew of a portrait painter in London she could offer as a substitute for William, if one was required. She followed Annabelle out of the room, taking her handbag with her.

  ‘So? Did you - um - manage to give William my number?' Annabelle asked, sounding anxious.

  ‘No. Unfortunately, I didn't have it. I suppose we both thought I already had it. But I hadn't.’

  Annabelle tutted with irritation. 'You'd better put it in your mobile now.’

  Flora produced her phone and Annabelle recited the numbers. When Flora had them stored she said, 'I'm not quite sure when I'm going to be able to give it to him, but don't worry, I know a portrait painter in London, who's really good and not expensive.’

  Annabelle considered. 'I would feel happier sitting for someone I knew, even if only a little.'

  ‘He's only gone for about a week.' William had been slightly less specific, but Flora thought a week's delay might be considered bearable.

  ‘You don't understand! Portraits take ages. He'll have to start very soon if he's to get it done.'

  ‘I did tell him about you wanting a portrait.'

  ‘Oh? What did he say?'

  ‘He was keen. He said you had lovely arms and shoulders.'

  ‘Really?' Annabelle's expression became almost dreamy. 'That's so nice. So, he hadn't left yet?'

  ‘No. He was going to wait for it to stop raining.'

  ‘Right. OK, then.' Annabelle swallowed. 'Um . . . I wonder if you could give me the keys to the Land-Rover? I've got to go and deliver something to a farm and will need it. My car isn't awfully good in mud.’

  Flora clutched her handbag to her. She thought of the Land-Rover as hers. 'Are you likely to be long? It's choir tonight. I want to get away on time.'

  ‘Take your car then. It's fixed and it's just sitting in the yard waiting for you.'

  ‘But the lane! I won't be able to get my car up and down it. It isn't awfully good in mud, either.'

  ‘Oh, Flora, I'll bring it back in plenty of time. I'm only going to be a couple of hours.’

  Reluctantly, Flora burrowed about in her bag and handed over the keys. 'You will be careful, won't you, Annabelle?’

  Charles opened the door. 'What are you two gossiping about?'

  ‘We're not gossiping!' Annabelle was very indignant. 'I'm just getting the Landy keys from Flora. I'm going up to Stringers Farm, and then I might pop in on Mummy.'

  ‘Oh. I was going to do that. They've got a pair of rather fierce collies, don't forget.'

  ‘I'll be fine! I'm not frightened of dogs. Bye, you two!' Flora felt all this was a bit odd, but as Charles seemed to think it was perfectly normal, she supposed it must be.

  *

  At five o'clock there was still no sign of Annabelle. 'I'm so sorry, Flora,' said Charles. 'I'll run you home now, and pick you up in the morning.'

  ‘That's not necessary, really. It's choir tonight. I'll pop across the road and get a sandwich, and work until it's time for choir. If you could leave the Land-Rover keys somewhere obvious, I'll just pick them up and drive home.' She smiled brightly. Ever since the roadshow, when he'd tried to drag her along to the dinner party he was going to with Annabelle, Flora had decided that now he no longer hated her, he felt a bit sorry for her.

  ‘That doesn't sound much fun.'

  ‘Or I might give Henry a ring! We could have a drink,' she said before remembering how Charles felt about Henry. But honestly, she was perfectly capable of looking after herself – and Charles should realise that.

  ‘Oh. Very well,' he said stiffly. 'I'll put the keys under the dustbin by the back steps.'

  ‘Fine.' Flora smiled more genuinely. Ringing Henry was a very good idea. It would do her good to see him.

  *

  When Geoffrey heard that Flora was stuck in town and was planning to go for a drink with Henry, he shook his head, very disapproving. 'You could have had some tea with me and Edie, Flora. It would have been no trouble.'

  ‘You're very kind. Do you think it will matter if I turn up without my music? I had actually put it in the car, but Annabelle's got it.'

  ‘No one will mind sharing. I'm just not all that happy about this Henry Burnet.' Geoffrey obviously considered himself in loco parentis.

  Because it was Geoffrey, whom she loved, rather than Charles being bossy, Flora found this rather sweet. 'This way I can finally keep a date with him, but not spend a whole evening, or have to get him to drive me home or anything. And really, you don't need to worry.’

  Not entirely pacified, Geoffrey went home and Flora made her way to the pub.

  ‘It's good to actually see you, Henry,' she said, kissing his cheek. 'I've been so busy lately, and then you couldn't come to my dinner party.'

  ‘I'm flattered you could find the time to see me now.' He raised a slightly cynical eyebrow that tweaked at Flora's conscience.

  She patted his hand. 'And I'm really flattered you still want to bother with me. I know I'm far too busy to be any fun.’

  Mollified, Henry smiled. 'Better the occasional drink together than none at all. Now, what would you like?'

  ‘These drinks are definitely on me. And do have a bar snack with me. I've got to be at choir in a couple of hours.’

  Henry sighed. 'I'm lucky you could fit me in.'

  ‘You are! But now the roadshow's over things shouldn't be quite so frantic. I'll make it up to you, I promise.’

  As she carried the drinks over to where Henry was sitting she reflected that she had treated him very badly and that she must do something nice for him soon. As long as he didn't expect anything she wasn't prepared to give, he was good company. And good for her slightly bruised ego.

  *

  Flora arrived at choir slightly late, having had one and a half glasses of wine. She apologised profusely, but luckily Moira had brought in a very nice station clock the day before, which had been valued for five hundred pounds; Flora was definitely in her good books.

  Afterwards, she was surprised to see lights on at Stanza and Stanza as she approached. Geoffrey, who had insisted on walking with her, hurrying through the pouring rain, was too.

  ‘Charles does keep very late hours, sometimes,' he commented, 'but half past nine is later than usual.’

  Charles greeted them at the top of the steps. 'I'm afraid Annabelle didn't get back.’

  Flora felt suddenly sick. 'My God, how awful! What could have happened?'

  ‘She's all right. She rang, but I'm afraid she put the Land-Rover in the ditch. She's spending the night with her parents.’

  Relief mingled with a Cassandra-like feeling that all would have been well if she hadn't given Annabelle her car keys. 'As long as she's all right. What about the Land-Rover?'

  ‘It's all right, too. We'll get it pulled out in the morning. In the meantime, I'm going to drive you home.'

  ‘As I see you're in good hands now, I'll be off,' said Geoffrey. "Night, Flora, 'night, Charles.’

  When he had gone, Flora said, 'There's no earthly need for you to take me home. I'll drive myself. My car's just in the yard.'

  ‘It'll never get down the lane in this.'

  ‘Then I'll call a taxi. You've been here hours. You must be longing to get back.'

  ‘I'm fine, and I'm not having you waiting hours for a cab that will probably get stuck, too. We'll be fine in my car.’

  Flora realised that Charles was annoyed and could sympathise, but she didn't really want him driving her home in that sort
of mood.

  ‘I'll call a cab. It's miles out of your way and you'd have to come and pick me up in the morning. It's silly for you to drive me. Logistically.'

  ‘Don't use words you don't understand. Now come on.’

  Flora opened her mouth wide with indignation. 'Only joking. Have you got everything?’

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘It's still raining,' she said, aware that she was stating the blooming obvious for about the eighteenth time, but finding it necessary to break the silence. They were driving very slowly, the windscreen wipers going at double speed. 'Was Annabelle with her parents all day?'

  ‘I don't know. Her mobile was switched off for most of it.'

  ‘Well, there's not much point in wasting the battery when there's not much coverage.' Flora did her best to sound nonchalant, but she couldn't help wondering if William might have had something to do with her absence. But he hadn't had any painting materials with him, so they couldn't have actually made a start on the portrait, could they?

  ‘No.'

  ‘I haven't seen rain like this for a long time,' said Flora, a little later. 'The last time I did, I was in the Caribbean.'

  ‘And it's been dry for so long, the water's all staying on the surface and the drains can't cope. Still, don't worry, I'll get you home all right.'

  ‘I'm sure you will. And I can always get a taxi in tomorrow morning. You really won't want to drag yourself all the way out there to collect me.’

  Charles gave her the briefest smile. 'There's always the kittens, Flora. They make any journey worthwhile.'

  ‘But won't you have Annabelle with you? She doesn't like kittens, remember.'

  ‘She can drive herself in, like she did today. It suits us better sometimes. She likes to come in a bit later and I'm not always ready to finish at five.’

  Annabelle did not deserve such a hard-working fiancé. No wonder she was set on marrying him. In Annabelle's eyes, if she could only get Charles to give as much dedication and energy as he did to the auction house to something more lucrative, he would become the perfect husband.

  ‘I know. I'm so sorry about you having to drive me back. You've been working so hard today, you must want to go home and pour yourself a large drink.'

  ‘It's not your fault you can't drive yourself, Flora, and you've been working just as hard. The roadshow has put a huge extra load on everyone, although they're all really pleased about it,' he added, possibly aware that Flora might feel this was a criticism. 'But I must admit, at home there's a very nice single malt that's got my name on it.'

  ‘Has it? That's very grand, Charles. I know you can have—'

  ‘Not literally.' He took his eyes off the road for just a second. 'It actually has the name of an unpronounceable Scottish island on it.'

  ‘I must say I might well change my name to Svetlana, or something. Emma brought some vodka with her. There's a bit left.'

  ‘It won't be long now before you can get at it.’

  Flora frowned. 'Not at this rate. We're only going about five miles an hour. How many miles is it?'

  ‘I don't know. It's not far, really. It's such a nuisance about the Land-Rover. I probably wouldn't have let you drive alone, but I could have got you home safely.'

  ‘You're not implying you can't get me home, are you?' The thought of spending the night with Charles in a roadside inn set up a feeling of panic she couldn't quite explain.

  ‘Not at all. It would have been easier in the Land-Rover, that's all.'

  ‘At least Annabelle is OK. That's the important thing.'

  ‘Yes. And I don't expect the Land-Rover will have anything wrong with it either, once it's out of the ditch. I don't know what's got into her. She isn't usually so careless.'

  ‘The road conditions are awful. She probably wasn't careless at all.’

  Charles didn't answer and they sat in silence. The road was getting worse and, like Charles, she was concentrating on it, trying to see through the rain that the wipers couldn't quite keep up with, watching for flooding or obstructions.

  ‘How was choir tonight?'

  ‘A lot of people didn't make it. I probably wouldn't have come out in this if I'd gone home.'

  ‘And what did you do beforehand?'

  ‘I had a drink and a snack with Henry.'

  ‘Oh yes.' Charles cleared his throat, fiercely focusing on the road ahead. 'So are you and he "an item"?’

  Flora stifled a laugh. The words sounded so strange coming out of Charles's mouth. The inverted commas were almost audible. She was about to deny there was anything serious going on between her and Henry, but then remembered his original opinion of her. She didn't want him to think she was a hussy just when her hard work and dedication to duty had convinced him she wasn't. 'We're not an item yet, but who knows? He's very good company.'

  ‘That rather depends on your definition of "good company". I don't know if I'd describe him like that myself. He's divorced, after all.'

  ‘So are lots of people! It doesn't necessarily make you a bad lot! Besides, I define "good company" as someone who makes me laugh.'

  ‘That rules me out, then.’

  Flora allowed her chuckle to escape. 'You do make me laugh sometimes, Charles. But sometimes - like now, for instance - you can be awfully stuffy.'

  ‘I think you've told me that before.'

  ‘Well then. Stop being stuffy!'

  ‘I'll do my best.' He took his eyes off the road again and smiled at her. 'But it's hard to go against nature.'

  ‘It's not nature! It's habit. Anyway, did I tell you? We've got a concert coming up. The choir, I mean, not you and me.' Flora was aware that she'd suddenly become flippant, but couldn't decide if it was a good or a bad thing.

  Charles ignored the flippancy. 'A concert? How nice. Annabelle and I should come.'

  ‘I'm thinking of asking Mum if she'd like to come over for it. She hasn't been to England for a while and she really wants to see the cottage. She can't quite believe how I've taken to country life.’

  Charles laughed. 'Well, I must say, you've surprised us all.'

  ‘I don't see why!’

  He laughed again. 'I know now that I was quite wrong, but when you first appeared you didn't look like such a hard worker.'

  ‘I've told you before, you shouldn't judge by appearances. It's a great mistake.'

  ‘It's not a mistake I'll make again. Not with you, anyway. So, how are the kittens?' he asked, as the road improved a little.

  ‘Fine. They haven't changed much since the weekend.’

  ‘I don't suppose they have. I was just making conversation.'

  ‘Well, please don't on my account. I'm your work colleague and your cousin, not someone you need to charm.'

  ‘Oh, I don't know about that.'

  ‘Charles?'

  ‘I sometimes wish I had your social skills, that's all.’

  ‘But I'm always putting my foot in it!'

  ‘You make people feel relaxed and good about themselves. It's a great gift. One I don't share.'

  ‘Yes, you do!' Flora was indignant. 'Think how lovely you were with those people in that grisly house. You made out it was all perfectly normal and they believed you. Hell, I believed you! I was really worried that I'd be facing squalor like that every week!'

  ‘That's different. That's work.'

  ‘Well, as you work most of the time, that's OK. You probably don't have much time for a social life anyway. Talking of which, how's Jeremy?'

  ‘He's fine. Very keen on your chum Emma, by the way. Is she available?'

  ‘Yes and no. She's with someone but I don't think he's anything like good enough for her.'

  ‘And what does Emma feel?'

  ‘I don't think she knows, really. But she liked Jeremy, too. It would be good for her to be with someone who's kind to her.'

  ‘I really brought him along for your benefit, Flora. I thought it would be nice for you to have someone to take you out while you're down here.' He scowled through the rain
-drenched windscreen. 'But you didn't need my help in finding someone to squire you around.'

  ‘That is a lovely, old-fashioned expression,' she said, refusing to be drawn on Henry. 'Only you would use it.'

  ‘Don't change the subject.'

  ‘I'm not, I'm just not willing to talk about Henry.’

  ‘It's not my place to comment, but—'

  ‘Then please don't comment. As you said yourself, it's not your place. And it's only been a couple of drinks and perhaps a lunch.' Just at that moment, Flora couldn't think how many times she'd been out with Henry. 'Like you, I'm far too busy to go out much.'

  ‘Forgive me if I doubt that it's always like that for you, Flora.'

  ‘Of course I'll forgive you, and no, it isn't always like that for me. It's just that this time it's half my business. It does make it a whole lot more interesting.' She frowned. 'Although actually, I think if I was just working for Stanza and Stanza I'd feel the same. It's so fascinating.

  I'm seriously considering training, although I know it takes a long time.’

  He glanced at her briefly before turning his gaze back to the road. They were still travelling very slowly. 'You could do it part time, while you work. Lots of people do.'

  ‘Well, isn't that nice? That's the first time you've behaved as if I'm going to be here for longer than the summer!’

  He chuckled. 'I must be beginning to believe your propaganda.'

  ‘Propaganda, indeed.'

  ‘You wouldn't think there could be so much rain in the sky, would you?' he said a little later.

  ‘No. I expect the land needs it though, doesn't it?’

  ‘Mm, if it doesn't all run off. Slow, steady rain that sinks in is what farmers like.'

  ‘So Annabelle's father will be happy?'

  ‘He's not really a farmer in a way most people would recognise. More an "agri-businessman". He makes most of his money from investments. Property, by and large.' He paused, as if debating whether or not he should pursue this conversation. 'I owe him a great deal, and he'd like me to join him.'

  ‘Oh.' Flora stopped herself from saying more. It explained why Annabelle only liked Stanza and Stanza for the property it owned.

  ‘But I can't really see myself getting interested in renting office blocks in London.'