by Katie Fforde
At last they heard someone coming up the front steps and ring the doorbell.
‘I'll say goodbye, then,' said Flora.
‘Goodnight, Flora.’
*
The following morning, she saw Charles's car come slowly down the lane and went out to meet him. She was feeling oddly jittery, although she didn't know why. He got out of the car and stood there while Flora came up to him.
‘Hi, Charles, how are you?'
‘Fine.'
‘Did Annabelle give you a fashion show? She got some lovely things.'
‘I think you've finally proved to me that it's not a good idea to try and judge a book by its cover, yes,' he said, with a twinkle oddly reminiscent of Henry's.
Flora smiled and bit her lip. 'Good!'
‘Come and see what I've brought you. Not a dining table, but something a bit similar.’
It was a white painted metal table and two chairs for the garden.
‘Oh, that's lovely! It will be perfect in the corner by the roses. I can just see myself sitting there with a glass of wine.' She frowned a little. 'Wasn't this, or something very like it, at the last sale? I seem to remember it went for a reasonable sum.'
‘Yes, it did. I bought it. Geoffrey bid for me. I thought it was just what you needed here.'
‘Is that legal? Buying stuff when you're the auctioneer?'
‘As long as your bid is the highest, yes.'
‘That's really kind, Charles, thank you.'
‘I will make sure there's also something to eat off before . . . when is it?' It was his turn to look thoughtful. 'I hope Annabelle hasn't railroaded you into having a dinner party. She seemed very keen to come for some reason. I was very pleased, though,' he went on, 'I would really like Annabelle and you to become friends. She doesn't have many close women friends.'
‘No?'
‘It would be good for her to get some young company.’
‘She's not that much older than me, Charles.'
‘No, but currently her best friend is her mother, which is all very well, but I think you need friends your own age, don't you?'
‘Absolutely!'
‘So we can come for dinner?’
Flora found herself nodding. 'Of course! It'll be fun.'
‘I'll just put these things where you want them and we'll be off. How's Imelda?' He carried the table to the corner of the garden where some rambling roses made a natural arbour.
Flora picked up a chair. It was unexpectedly heavy 'I didn't think you cared about Imelda, or her kittens.’
Charles looked surprised. 'I did, but I didn't want to ask if I could come and see them in case she ate them, or something.'
‘Oh. Well, you could come and see them now, if you're interested.' Perhaps she'd misjudged him a little.
He glanced at his watch. 'I'm meeting some people at eleven. I shouldn't really.’
Flora was disappointed. 'Perhaps you could come and see them another time.’
`I'd love to.' He put the second chair down by the table.
‘It looks wonderful,' said Flora. 'Like something out of a magazine. It only needs a bottle of wine, a loaf of bread, some olives and a book.'
‘A book of verses underneath the bough, A jug of wine, a loaf of bread - and Thou,' he quoted softly
‘What's that?'
‘Oh, just a bit of poetry. Now, have you got everything? We should be off.’
When they got to the office, Charles said, 'What are you going to do?'
‘I'd like to get on with sorting out those old filing cabinets. There's stuff in there no one's looked at for years. I'm not going to destroy any of it, just put it into document boxes and label it, so you can throw it away later.' She was quite looking forward to a day of getting on with things together in companionable silence. And perhaps they might even have a proper chat about the business without everyone else around.
He smiled. 'That doesn't seem a very nice way to spend a sunny Saturday'
‘Well, you're working, so I should be, too. And once those filing cabinets are empty, we can put them somewhere else and have much more room in the office.'
‘Urn, I'm only working until eleven. The people I'm meeting, with Annabelle, are friends.'
‘Oh.' Flora felt suddenly put out. 'Well, I'll only work till twelve then.' Then, worrying she sounded a bit dependent, she hurried on, 'I've got a friend I've been trying to meet for lunch for ages.’
`Oh?’
This was obviously an invitation to tell him who the friend was. Flora decided to refuse it. It was none of his business, after all. 'We'd better get on, then, if we're only working for a couple of hours.’
When Charles was out of the room, doing whatever he had to do, Flora decided to ring Henry. She didn't usually ring men until the relationship was fairly well established, but this was an emergency. She couldn't be seen as Flora-No-Mates when Charles and Annabelle were going to be all couply and have lunch with friends.
‘Henry? It's Flora Stanza.' For all her confidence, Flora always felt a little shy telephoning people she didn't really know.
‘Flora! How very nice to hear from you!’
His enthusiasm was a great relief. 'I'm working this morning, but as I'm in town, I wondered if we could meet for lunch, or a drink, or something.'
‘That would be delightful. Shall I pick you up from the office? I know a very nice little pub we could go to.’
‘That would be lovely. About twelve?'
‘Great. See you soon. Cheers.’
Charles was standing in the doorway when she put the phone down. 'So you're going out for lunch too?'
‘Yup. Something to look forward to after all this sorting out.' She smiled at him, sensing that for some reason he was dying to know whom she was going out with.
‘I heard you say the name Henry. Would that be Henry Burnet?’
Flora had to think for a moment. 'Yes, I think that would be him.’
Charles frowned. 'I should tell you, Flora, that he's not someone I would wish any relative of mine to go out with.'
‘Isn't he? Well, never mind, we're not that closely related.’
Charles pursed his lips and strode off.
Chapter Nine
They left Flora's Land-Rover in town and drove to a charming pub with a sloping garden that was full of people with their dogs and children.
‘I was so glad you rang me,' said Henry as he delivered a glass of Pimm's to her. 'I was going to ring later, but I never thought you'd be free for lunch today.’
Flora felt rather guilty, aware that she'd arranged a date with Henry almost as much for Charles's benefit as for the pleasure of his company.
‘I was really lucky you were free, but I was in town already, and it's such a lovely afternoon, I wanted to take the chance.'
‘Well, here's to you,' said Henry, picking up his own Pimm's and looking down into her eyes.
Flora met his eyes for only a second, but then inspected the fruit salad floating in her drink. She didn't want Henry to get too keen until she'd decided how much she liked him. If he did get too eager for her company, she'd go off him immediately. In fact, she rather hoped Geoffrey was right about him being a philanderer - the last thing she wanted right now was a complicated relationship.
Fortunately, he seemed to take the hint. 'Now, what do you fancy for lunch? They do excellent home-cooked ham and a particularly good salad dressing.’
Flora chuckled. 'And I thought I'd left all the gourmet flesh-pots behind in London.'
‘Seriously, the ham is outstanding.' Henry was laughing too. 'You should definitely try it.'
‘I will then. And the particularly good salad dressing.’
While Henry was away, placing their food order, Flora thought about him. He was good looking, and laughed at her jokes, which was a definite plus - she'd had enough of people not getting her jokes all day. He would definitely do for the time being.
Later they went for a walk along the canal tow-path and Flora kept asking
Henry about the various wild flowers growing along the path.
‘I'm afraid I know nothing about any of them. Flowers have never interested me that much.’
Flora was disappointed. 'I think, because of my name, I should know more about them. I'll get a book.'
‘So do you think you'll stay around for a while?’
It was the first remotely serious question he had asked her and Flora considered how best to reply. For some reason she didn't want to reveal her passion for her family business too early in their friendship.
‘Oh yes, for a bit, anyway. I'll probably go back to London when the weather gets horrible, but I'm definitely here for the summer.'
‘Oh good,' said Henry, 'then so am I.’
Henry kissed Flora's cheek when he dropped her back at her car. It was very pleasant. She liked Henry and she could tell he liked her, but not in an oppressive way. He seemed very relaxed and laid back about things, and that was just what she needed.
*
Flora was in the garden pulling up the goose-grass that covered everything with a sort of green mist. She had taken her breakfast out and eaten it at the little table and then felt inspired to do what she could to make the garden look better. She was surprised at her enthusiasm but even more surprised when she heard a car, looked up and saw that it was Charles.
‘Good morning,' she called. 'I didn't expect to see you again so soon.'
‘I've got some garden tools for you. Annabelle wanted you to have them,' he said through the window. 'But I see you've started without them.'
‘Just this green stuff. It comes out easily, although it's given me a bit of a rash.’
Charles got out of the car. 'You need long gloves.' He went round to the back of the car and opened the boot. 'I've got a fork, a trowel, some fairly ancient gardening gloves and a bucket with a hole in it. To put the weeds in.’
By this time Flora had joined Charles at the boot. 'Where did these come from? Another sale?'
‘No, I think these are throw-outs from Annabelle's parents. They're great gardeners. Annabelle's keen, too, although of course there isn't much garden with her house in town.'
‘She didn't want me to have an idle Sunday, obviously,' Flora said wryly.
‘Actually, I offered to bring them over. Not because I want you to get stuck into clearing out the bindweed . . .' He paused.
‘What?'
‘I couldn't just have a peep at the kittens, could I? I've been dying to ever since they were born.' He appeared a little embarrassed by this request. 'As I said, I didn't like to earlier, in case it upset Imelda.’
Flora was strangely touched. And since William had left a note saying he was off for the day and wouldn't be back until suppertime, she didn't have to worry about him suddenly appearing.
‘Come on then.’
As Flora led Charles through the house she worried briefly in case William had left some trace of his presence, but if he had, Charles didn't notice. And she had at least made her bed, so if her room was a bit untidy, it didn't look too slutty.
Charles knelt down on the floor in front of where Imelda was ensconced, feeding her babies, purring loudly. Seeing his large form hovering over the tiny bodies, who were pumping their mother for all they were worth, was surprisingly touching.
‘Can I pick one up?'
‘Take that one who's stopped feeding for a minute. Aren't they heavenly?’
He put the kitten next to his neck and stroked it with a long finger. 'Mm. I do wish we could have one, but . .
‘It's all right. I know. Annabelle's allergic to cats.’
‘And she doesn't like them, either.'
‘I suppose if they make you sneeze, or itch, it would put you off them a bit.' Flora was trying to be generous. How could anyone not like cats? He shook his head. 'Her mother's the same. She's not allergic, she just doesn't like them.'
‘Is Annabelle like her mother in other ways? You know what they say,' she went on playfully, wishing she could shut up, 'you should always check out the girl's mother before you commit yourself, because that's who you'll end up married to.'
‘She's a very fine woman.' He frowned slightly. 'I think I remember meeting your mother once.'
‘Oh?'
‘Yes. She looked very like you, Flora. Very pretty.’
Usually Flora would have accepted this compliment with grace and aplomb. Now she felt embarrassed. It was probably because Charles didn't usually say things like that: it made her feel awkward. 'Well, it's a shame neither of them like cats. But some people like dogs better.'
‘What about you, Flora?'
‘Oh, I like both. They're like men and women —although not actually like men and women. I don't think dogs are like men and cats are like women, or anything like that. I just think they offer you different things.'
‘Yes?' Charles had helped himself to another kitten and put it in the same place as the first one.
‘Dogs build you up, make you feel better. Cats keep you in your place. They love you but they don't need you. Dogs are needy.'
‘When we get married we might get a dog. A nice black Labrador.'
‘Mm. I can see Annabelle with a Labrador.’
‘They are very sensible dogs.’
Flora didn't comment. For her Labradors were on a par with flat shoes, knee-length skirts and Hermes headscarves: pleasant enough in their place, but not very exciting.
Charles went on. 'Now you I can see with something much more frivolous and decorative, like a poodle or a Cavalier King Charles spaniel.’
Flora, content with his choice of breed for her, replied, 'You, on the other hand, should have something stately and enormous, like an Irish wolfhound.’
He turned away from the kittens for a moment. 'Is that how you see me? Stately and enormous?’
Flora nodded. 'And kind. You can be quite kind when you're not being bossy. Wolfhounds are very gentle. I used to know one when I was a child.’
Charles detached the kitten and sighed. 'I can't see Annabelle putting up with anything that size.'
‘Well, I suppose if you're both working, it would be difficult. Just the same for any dog, though.' She found Charles being in her bedroom, within touching distance, too intimate, somehow.
`Do you worry about leaving Imelda during the day?’
She was just about to say that William came in and checked on her at lunchtime when she remembered that Charles didn't know about William. 'I leave lots of food and the kitchen window open. She's fine.’
He got to his feet, putting himself safely out of reach again. 'I must get that cat flap organised. Annabelle would not be happy if she knew about you leaving the window open.’
Flora glanced at herself in her dressing-table mirror but resisted the temptation to pick up her lip-gloss and add a layer. As a reward for this restraint she allowed herself to dig about Annabelle a little. 'Annabelle doesn't seem that happy about working in an auction house either,' she said.
‘No,' said Charles as he followed her down the stairs, making Flora feel like a midget pursued by a giant. 'She prefers proper antiques to the house-clearance stuff we mostly get. Poor girl. I don't think she realised how much of the things we handle would be so run-of-the-mill.'
‘Would you like a cup of coffee?'
‘I should be getting back, really. Lunch with the in-laws.'
‘Are they coming to you, or are you going to them?'
‘We're going to them.' As he showed no signs of leaving she went through to the kitchen. He followed her and watched while she put the kettle on.
‘Um.' He cleared his throat. 'How was your lunch with - Henry Burnet yesterday?'
‘Oh, lovely! He took me to a really nice pub and we ate ham and salad. He's great fun.' Flora displayed a little more enthusiasm than she felt, although she had enjoyed herself. Something about Charles's cosy lunch with his in-laws made her want to seem a bit attached too.
‘Good. But I do think I should warn you, as your cousin, that he hasn't
got a very good reputation with women.'
‘Hasn't he?'
‘No.'
‘I'll watch my step, then,' said Flora.
‘I hope you don't mind me saying.'
‘Not at all!' She smiled. 'So you will have coffee?’
‘Oh, go on, then.'
‘No need to be so gracious, Charles. I had an idea.' She opened a jar of coffee and found a teaspoon. 'About what?'
‘About the business. How to improve the quality of the lots.'
‘Yes?'
‘I got it when you mentioned the Antiques Roadshow the other day. Why don't you do them?'
‘What on earth are you talking about?'
‘Put on a roadshow. You'd have to advertise, of course, but you could ask people to bring in their antiques, stuff they have lying around and don't really want or need, and then, if they're valuable, they might want to sell them.'
‘Well—'
‘You could do it in all the small towns nearby. Hire a room, or something. People would love it, I'm sure. And it would be a good advertisement for you anyway.'
‘It would be terribly expensive. And if people didn't want to sell their stuff, it would all be for nothing. There's no slack in this business for mistakes, Flora.'
‘You need some capital.'
‘I know that.’
She bit back her question about Annabelle's capital. She'd been happy to use it to buy Flora out, so why wasn't she happy to use it to invest in the business in other ways? Annabelle by herself had been quite fun on their shopping trip, but as far as Stanza and Stanza went she was a disaster.
Instead she said, 'You have a huge house which you only use a very small part of as your offices. If you sold it you'd have plenty of capital. You wouldn't have to sell the hall.'
‘You mean I could buy you out?’
Flora smiled weakly. 'You could, if I was willing to sell, of course, but that's not the point. What I'm saying is, if you sold that building, dividing it up into flats first if you like, you could afford to do lots to make Stanza and Stanza work.'
‘I don't know what Annabelle would think about that.’
Flora got the impression that this was just an excuse. 'Annabelle is not your partner! I am! And if she's not really interested in the business, why should she worry about what you do with the house?'