by Katie Fforde
‘I want a quick word with Flora and if she says we wouldn't be welcome in the house, I'm not going to press the point,' said Charles.
‘Then you come with me, William.' Annabelle took hold of William's arm and marched off.
Hermione drew Geoffrey and Edie to one side. 'I gather we can't see the house, but shall we go and get a breath of fresh air before we leave? I want to see if that's jasmine I can smell or someone's perfume.’
As they went off together, embarrassment, which had been ebbing and flowing over Flora all evening, suddenly flooded. She had no idea what to say to Charles.
‘You were wonderful,' he said. 'I mean, the choir was wonderful. I had no idea my porters were all so talented.'
‘It was nice of you to come. Oh, here's Virginia.'
‘Charles! I don't think you've ever come to one of our concerts before,' said the ruler of Charles's saleroom, not unreproachfully. 'It must be Flora's influence.'
‘I've seen the error of my ways, Virginia. I'll come to all of them now. I was very impressed.'
‘So I should think. I'm not sure "The Lamb" was quite right, was it, Flora? I thought the tenors were a bit off.’
Flora shook her head. 'I'm afraid I was just concentrating so hard on my own bit, I couldn't pick out the other voices, really. My ear is just not good enough.'
‘Never mind. You got us a lovely venue. Are you coming for a drink?’
Flora needed a drink, and certainly wanted one, but she wanted it in the privacy of her own home, where it went with a bath, and bed immediately afterwards. 'I've got my mother with me.'
‘Oh, she's up for it! I've just been talking to Geoffrey and Edie.'
‘I'll take you home if you're tired, Flora,' said Charles. 'That's settled then,' said Virginia. 'Your mother can drive your car home from Geoffrey's, can't she?’
Flora nodded. She ferreted out her car keys and handed them to Virginia.
‘And Charles will take you home, so I'll just run and confirm which pub we're going to. You're sure you don't want to come?’
‘Quite sure.’
Just as Virginia left and Charles turned to talk to someone he knew, Henry appeared. 'I thought I'd never get away from that lot. Come on, Flo.' He drew her away from the crowd a little. 'Let's go in for a nightcap. I'll drive you home later. I've got some very nice brandy. You certainly deserve some reward for all that hard work.'
‘Actually . . .' Henry had never called her Flo before, and Flora wasn't at all sure she liked it. She only put up with it from close friends and family. '. . . I am quite tired.'
‘Nonsense. You need something to help you wind down. And then, whenever you're ready, I'll take you back and tuck you up in bed. I'll even make you hot chocolate.’
As he came near her, Flora realised that he had been drinking, which was unusual for him. 'Really, Henry, I'd rather not. I'm exhausted.’
Henry was beginning to get belligerent. 'Oh, come on! I put my house at the disposal of your bloody choir and you won't even have a glass of brandy with me?’
Flora drew breath, not certain how to deal with the situation, and then suddenly Charles joined them. 'Actually, I'm taking Flora back,' he said smoothly.
‘No need,' said Henry. 'You've got your fiancée -what's her name? Annabelle - to look after. Flora and I have things to attend to.’
By now there was no doubt about what things he had in mind and Flora started to feel very uncomfortable. She'd made it plain she didn't want to be anything more than friends, and had been careful not even to flirt with him since Grantly Manor.
‘Flora's coming with me,' said Charles, ratcheting up his determination several notches.
Flora looked at the two men squaring up to each other and said nothing. She didn't know what to say.
‘She's my girlfriend,' claimed Henry, beginning to get cross.
‘She's my cousin and I'm taking her home.’
Flora began to feel anxious. This was by no means the first time men had competed for the privilege of taking her home, but they didn't usually get quite so tense.
‘I think the relationship between us takes precedence over some distant blood link, don't you, Flora?'
‘I—' began Flora.
‘I don't think—' began Henry.
‘Oh shut up,' said Charles, and punched Henry in the nose.
Flora's first thought was relief that no one was about to witness Henry clutching at his now bloody nose. Her second was a mixture of thrill and horror as Charles took hold of her elbow and marched her away from the scene of the crime.
‘I'm so sorry, Flora,' he said when they were back at the car.
‘Don't apologise to me! You didn't punch my nose.'
‘I couldn't let him take you back. He'd been drinking and after what happened between you and Justin - well, I could see it happening all over again.'
‘Me and Justin?' For a moment, Flora had forgotten all about Justin.
‘Yes, when he - hit on you, I think the expression is, because he'd taken you out to dinner. Henry obviously felt you owed him something.’
Flora felt she owed him something, too, but not a free pass to her body. 'But what about Annabelle and William?'
‘Oh Christ! I'd forgotten about them - I mean William - for a moment.' A thought passed across Charles's face that Flora couldn't identify.
‘Well, you can't go back and look for them now,' said Flora, managing to conceal the nervous laughter that was beginning to erupt. 'But I can easily get a lift . .
‘Hardly.' The corner of Charles's mouth began to twitch. 'I'll ring Annabelle on my mobile.’
As he pulled it out, Flora said, 'But what can you say?'
‘Hi,' he said briskly. 'Flora's exhausted and I'm taking her home. Will you get home on your own? Or will you wait at the pub until I can come and collect you? Good girl. Fine. 'Night, 'night, sweetie.’
He disconnected. 'She and William will get a lift. Now we'd better get off the premises before Henry comes after me with a shotgun.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘This is silly,' said Flora, getting into Charles's car.
‘I know, I'm sorry. I'll apologise in the morning. I don't know what came over me. I don't usually get into fights.'
‘It wasn't a fight. Henry didn't hit you back.’
‘Thank goodness. He probably could have pulverised me.’
Flora didn't respond. She doubted Henry cared enough about her to risk more damage - and at the moment Charles punched him Flora had been certain that Charles would have followed it up with more had there been an excuse.
‘I'll send him a bottle of wine, or something, to apologise.'
‘You realise he'll probably never want to go out with me again.'
‘I can't say I'm sorry about that. I never did like you having anything to do with him.'
‘In his defence, up till now, he never laid an unwelcome finger on me.'
‘But he did just then?' Charles looked as if he was considering going back and punching him again.
‘No! No, but he might have - I mean - oh, you know what I mean.’
‘I know he fully intended to seduce you.'
‘That's such a sweet, old-fashioned word.'
‘There's nothing sweet about it, I assure you. You could have got into serious trouble if you'd stayed with Henry.'
‘I am a grown-up, Charles,' she said quietly. 'Technically, at least.'
‘I couldn't permit it. Sorry.’
Flora began to smile. 'I don't actually have to ask your permission.' She bit her lip to stop herself chuckling.
‘I know that perfectly well.' Charles changed gear, driving rather fast. He sighed deeply, obviously making an effort to calm down. 'I admit I was in the wrong. I shouldn't have hit him. Violence is never the answer but I acted instinctively, as I would have done if you were my sister.'
‘You haven't got any sisters.'
‘That's beside the point! And really, there are plenty of good men out there. You don't
have to scrape the barrel.'
‘Well, thank you for that,' she said humbly. 'I'm so glad you don't think I'm so unattractive I have to go looking in seedy bars and gutters to find a companion.’
Charles bit his lip. 'You know perfectly well what I mean.'
‘Are you suggesting I get you to vet any man who asks me out, then?'
‘It wouldn't be a bad idea. After all, you're new to the area.’
Flora was giggling openly now. 'Perhaps I should tell you that my father didn't have much luck doing that when I was fifteen.’
Charles was forced to laugh, too, but Flora could tell he wasn't really amused.
‘My father used to try and substitute suitable boyfriends for the unsuitable ones.'
‘I did introduce you to Jeremy.'
‘That didn't work, either. He fancied Emma.'
‘I have other friends. Good men, who won't mess you around.'
‘Not so long ago you were accusing me of messing your friends around.'
‘I know you better now, Flora. I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt anyone, voluntarily.'
‘Unlike you.'
‘Unlike me.' He chuckled. 'Poor Henry. He just didn't see it coming.'
‘Well, you're lucky I wasn't madly in love with him or I'd never speak to you again.'
‘If you'd been madly in love with him you wouldn't have hesitated when he asked you in for a brandy. You'd have just gone.'
‘I suppose so.' Flora tried to sound non-committal but she knew it was nothing but the truth. If Charles had invited her to drink brandy with him, however tired she'd been, she'd have just gone, too. But it wouldn't have worked the other way round. If Flora had invited him to drink brandy he'd have told her off, said she was far too young to drink spirits, and that she should go home and get an early night. 'I'm quite glad you haven't got sisters, younger ones at least.'
‘Oh? Why?'
‘Because you would have been a terribly bossy older brother.’
He laughed. 'I was Head of House at school. I probably learnt to look out for the younger ones then.’
That was her put in her place, then. He saw her as a sort of Smith Minor, in danger of getting into the wrong crowd, needing a steady, older boy to keep an eye on him.
He glanced at her. 'Do sleep if you feel like it.'
‘It's all right. I don't feel so tired now.' She did actually, but was determined not to waste a second of this odd yet surprisingly enjoyable journey. 'So have you and Annabelle and William been socialising?' she asked.
‘Yes. Annabelle needed a spare man for something and thought of him.' He frowned. 'I thought you knew that. I thought Annabelle said you'd given him her number.'
‘Oh' - she hadn't, had she? Flora thought rapidly -'yes, but I thought Annabelle just wanted some hurdles made or something.' Hurdles, that sounded suitably rustic and Far From the Madding Crowd. 'I didn't realise it was for social reasons.'
‘We must have you and Hermione to dinner.’
Flora felt she'd rather sing a solo in a cathedral than endure an evening of watching Charles and Annabelle play Happy Couples. 'She's not here for long. Next time she comes, perhaps?'
‘Do you know when she's coming back?'
‘I'm not sure. Sometime before Christmas, I hope.’
‘Annabelle and I might well be married, by then.' He stared ahead at the road.
‘You might,' agreed Flora, discovering tears forming at the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away and yawned.
He saw her. 'You're shattered.'
‘Yes.' People seemed to have been telling her that all evening.
‘Nearly there, now.'
‘Good.' The tears were falling faster now. In a few moments he was going to leave her at her door and then drive back to Annabelle, and probably (she forced herself to confront this thought) have passionate sex with her.
They turned into her lane. 'It's still quite muddy, isn't it?’
She cleared her throat. 'It's OK as long as you take it slowly.'
‘Your voice sounds a little strange. Perhaps you've strained it, singing.’
She wanted to say, 'Actually, it's my heart. It's breaking and now the tear has reached up into my throat.' But she didn't, she just said, 'Mm,' in agreement. It was all she could manage.
At last he pulled up outside the cottage. 'If I came in and saw you were all right, made you a hot drink, would you think I was trying to seduce you?'
‘No, Charles,' she said, in control at last. 'That is the absolutely last thing I would think.'
‘I wouldn't ever do anything to hurt you, Flora.' Not on purpose, no, she thought.
‘Then make us some hot chocolate, if there's enough milk, while I get into my nightie.' She opened the door of the cottage.
‘Actually, don't get into your nightie.'
‘Why not? These black clothes are awfully hot.'
‘I'm not a bloody saint, Flora!' He strode off into the kitchen and her spirits lifted, just a tiny bit.
*
Flora slept surprisingly well. The hot chocolate and the memory of Charles's chaste kiss on her cheek were very soothing. She heard her mother come in but didn't move. She needed her sleep.
Next morning, Hermione was full of praise once more. 'Well, darling, I have to say, I was very impressed. Very impressed indeed. And the choir are such a nice bunch. I had a lovely time at the pub last night.'
‘I am glad. They are fun, aren't they?’
`So, did you find out what William and Annabelle were doing together?'
‘Apparently William became part of their social life when Annabelle needed an extra man for something. He scrubbed up very well, I must say. I was shocked to see him with Annabelle, though. But Charles was cool about it.’
Hermione glanced at her daughter, who was crunching into toast and marmalade with enthusiasm. 'And Charles, he didn't tell you that he and Annabelle were a terrible mistake and he was going to break off the engagement immediately?'
‘No. Though he did hit Henry! It was awful and yet really funny, at the same time.'
‘Why did Charles hit Henry? It sounds very out of character.'
‘It is, totally out of character. But he explained to me on the way home that he was Head of House at school and so he's programmed to look out for the younger boys.’
Hermione seemed confused. 'Are you telling me Charles looks on you as someone he has responsibility for?'
‘Yup.'
‘Oh, darling!'
‘I'd be kidding myself if I thought any different, Mum. He does care about me, but only as a sort of older, terribly bossy brother.’
Hermione sighed. 'It's a pity. He'd make such a lovely dad. Think how sweet he is with the kittens?’
Flora laughed, as she was supposed to. They both knew that if they went any deeper into this conversation, Flora might get upset. Neither of them wanted that when she was just going off to work.
*
As Hermione was leaving a couple of days later she hugged her daughter. 'You will be all right, won't you?'
‘Oh yes. The sale is coming up and we're really busy.'
‘And will you see Henry again?’
Flora wasn't too sure. Henry had phoned, mortified, the day after the concert to apologise for his behaviour. It had been so completely out of character for him that Flora, once she got over her anger about the position he had put her in, was almost concerned for him - and it turned out she had reason to be. He'd apparently received a rather unpleasant phone call from his ex-wife earlier in the day to break the news, none too gently, that she was remarrying. That had come at about three in the afternoon and he'd stiffened his sinews with a shot of brandy, and never really stopped after that. By the time Flora arrived on the scene, his hurt pride at Natasha moving on and building a new family while he remained alone had swelled to such a point that he was determined to prove he had someone special in his life - and Flora had got in his way.
He was clearly horrified at his own behaviour, and
Flora didn't think there was any reason to worry he'd do it again, but the incident still left a nasty taste in her mouth. And she rather thought their friendship had been soured by it.
‘I'm not sure, Mum,' she said carefully. 'I'm not too sure Henry will want to see me, to be honest.'
‘It's a pity in some ways. You need a distraction.'
‘I'm working far too hard for distractions.’
Hermione shook her head. 'Working with Charles will not help! What about that nice William?'
‘William and I don't fancy each other. We decided that ages ago.'
‘What a shame!' Her mother hugged her again. 'Love can be such hell.’
Flora had expected to find meeting Charles after the concert at Burnet House embarrassing - he had behaved so extraordinarily, punching Henry - but he was completely blasé about it.
‘I didn't mention the matter to Annabelle, but I did send some rather good claret to his house, and he was decent enough to thank me,' he said. 'But I do apologise again to you for involving you in a rather sordid incident.'
‘Oh, Charles, you are so stuffy! Sordid incident, indeed! You punched him! Drew blood! But I'm glad you've made it up with Henry. It means I could see him again if I wanted to.’
He frowned. 'I don't think so.’
Flora sighed. 'No, I don't think so, either. Oh well. Now, do you want me to start putting numbers on?’
*
Everyone was keyed up on the first morning of the sale. It was one of those golden mornings in early September that make the passing of summer so poignant. As Flora drove through the countryside before the rest of the world was awake, she was struck by its beauty, and wondered if she had accidentally become a rural person when, by rights, she should be a City slicker. She got to the auction rooms by seven. Charles was there by half past, and even Annabelle turned up by eight-thirty. This was the sale of furniture and effects resulting from the roadshow. The sale that would prove if Flora was remotely useful to Stanza and Stanza or not - or that was how it seemed to Flora. But everyone felt it was a new start, a step forward.
Unusually for her, Annabelle helped Flora arrange the chairs. It amused Flora that all the chairs in any sale were put out for people to sit on. The logical conclusion to this would be to sell cups of tea in the Mason's Ironstone tea sets and seat the punters at the Sheraton tables, but she kept this thought to herself. Annabelle was unlikely to understand.
