by Katie Fforde
‘The kitchen's not really designed for entertaining.’
‘No. Would you like some more coffee or anything?’
‘No, thank you.’
The silence hung between them for a moment. Flora struggled to think of something to say. 'They must have gone for quite a long walk. I wouldn't have thought Annabelle was the sort to go trudging through the woods in the dark.'
‘She has hidden depths.'
‘And have you and she been engaged for long?' She didn't really want to know, but it gave them something safe to talk about.
‘We've been engaged officially for about a year, but it was always understood that we would marry. We've known each other from the cradle.' He paused. 'I did fall in love with another woman, briefly, while I was travelling. But it didn't last. I was very glad to come back to Annabelle.’
With anyone else, Flora would probably have asked if this woman had broken his heart, but not with Charles. 'Will you let me wash up, now?'
‘No—'
‘I just don't think it's a very good idea to go on sitting here in the dark with you.'
‘I'm not a vampire, Charles,' said Flora, strangely pleased.
‘You're a lot more dangerous than that. Come on.’
Charles and Flora were still drying up when the others came back. They all seemed a little more dishevelled than when they went out and Emma had goose-grass draped over her shoes.
Flora put down her tea towel and picked it off. 'My mother calls this "wild sellotape". Did you hear any nightingales?’
Annabelle sighed. 'No, but it was so beautiful. We should all walk at night more often, it's a forgotten pleasure.'
‘Well, I think I'm going to take you home now,' said Charles. 'Flora, thank you for a lovely evening.' And he kissed her cheek, disturbingly near her ear.
‘Yes, it's been great,' said Jeremy. 'A really splendid meal.' His kiss was quite hearty. 'Emma? I'll be in touch.'
‘Yes, do,' said Emma, with a smile that was only just short of a smirk.
‘Flora!' Annabelle took hold of Flora's shoulders and kissed her. 'Fabulous meal and everything.'
‘I didn't cook it, Annabelle.'
‘I know, but you did set it up and it was all super.’
‘I'm so glad you enjoyed yourself.’
Annabelle turned to William. 'What can I say? That walk was magical.'
‘I'm glad you enjoyed it.'
‘You know so much about the countryside and everything.'
‘Well, I spend a lot of time in it.'
‘Come on,' said Charles. 'It's late.’
Charles at last got Annabelle and Jeremy into the car and Emma, William and Flora watched them drive away from the doorstep.
‘I think that went really well,' said Flora. 'What did you two think?'
‘Jeremy was very nice,' said Emma. 'Annabelle was a bit scary, though.'
‘Did you think so?' said William. 'I thought she was very friendly and she has really interesting features, in that strong, Pre-Raphaelite way. I'd really like to paint her.’
Flora took this in for a moment, wondering if her make-over could possibly take any credit for Annabelle's strong features, and deciding that it couldn't. 'Well, anyway, you were a star! And so economical!’
William shrugged. 'Why pay for food when you can get it for nothing?’
*
Later, while Flora was brushing her teeth, she reflected that she and Charles seemed to have moved on. Now she knew why he was so wary of her, assuming she was a bitch because of Justin, things should go much better. She was surprised to realise quite how relieved she was that the atmosphere between her and Charles had been cleared. It had obviously been getting to her more than she'd known, and if she was back in his good books then they could both stop treading on eggshells and get on with getting Stanza and Stanza back on track.
Yes, things had definitely changed between them tonight, but it wasn't just that they'd gone back to how they were before the row - it felt more as if they were actually becoming friends, rather than polite partners, and she was surprised again to register how much that meant to her. Perhaps if the roadshow went really well, he might stop thinking of her as a dumb blonde and see her as a really useful person.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Thank you so much for dinner,' said Charles on Monday morning.
He and Annabelle were getting out of their car. Flora had just parked the Land-Rover and waited when she saw them arrive. She felt strangely excited to see Charles again and put it down to their new, improved relationship.
‘Yes, it was wonderful! Imagine! All that lovely food for free!' said Annabelle.
‘Well, add a couple of pints of double cream and some parmesan,' said Flora. 'Any old weed tastes nice if you know what to do with it.' She smiled, hoping she hadn't sounded churlish.
‘The chocolate mousse was delicious,' said Charles.
Flora suddenly remembered him looking at the smears of chocolate on her and found herself blushing. She cleared her throat. 'Well, I'm really glad you both enjoyed yourselves.'
‘So did Jeremy,' said Annabelle. 'He seems very taken by your girlfriend. You must tell me all about her sometime.’
By now, the three of them had reached the back entrance to the office, so Flora was spared having to respond to Annabelle's request for information about Emma. It was Monday morning and she wanted to focus on the week ahead. She was feeling much more optimistic about everything now things were better between her and Charles. It would surely be easier to get Stanza and Stanza profitable now Charles realised she was on the same team. And she was rather hoping for some help with the roadshow.
‘Where's Louisa?' asked Annabelle as they all arrived in the office. 'I'm desperate for a coffee. Oh, of course, it's Monday!'
‘I'll make it,' said Flora. 'How do you like it?’
‘Black, two sugars.'
‘Charles?'
‘The same, please.’
She brought a tray of coffee through to Charles's office where Annabelle and he were ensconced.
‘Have you brought coffee for yourself ?' asked Charles. 'We need to discuss this roadshow on Wednesday'
‘Ah yes. So we do,' said Flora, thanking God he'd decided to get involved. 'I'll run and make myself a cup of tea.’
She was putting off the moment, she knew. By now someone, probably Charles, would have read the various advertisements she'd placed and found out what she'd done. Or at least, some of what she'd done. She hadn't paid for all her sins by the word - some of them would come to light later.
‘Right,' said Charles, when Flora had pulled up another chair to the desk. 'I've spoken to Geoffrey. He's on side. And I've got Bob Butler and another couple of retired auctioneers to come along.'
‘Darling, we won't need all those people,' said Annabelle. 'What on earth were you thinking of?'
‘I think it's good to have plenty of people there to help,' Charles went on smoothly. 'We don't want to keep people waiting too long.'
‘For goodness' sake! We'll be lucky if anyone comes at all. No way will there be enough people to form a queue.'
‘You never know,' said Flora brightly, realising that Charles had seen the advertisements but that Annabelle hadn't and he hadn't told her about them. It seemed to give them a sort of solidarity. 'Do you think we should have somewhere where people can get drinks and snacks?'
‘Excellent idea,' said Charles. 'The porters will organise that if I ask them.'
‘They'll need to be paid, don't forget,' said Annabelle, 'and this is all very speculative. It's probably far too short notice for them to organise anything, anyhow.'
‘Actually, I spoke to one or two of them at choir,' said Flora.
‘What?' Annabelle frowned.
‘Because I see them at choir, I took the opportunity to ask them if they could do something at short notice, should it be necessary.' This wasn't quite how she'd put it to the Subversive Second Sopranos, but the general effect was the same.
<
br /> ‘Good idea,' said Charles.
‘I know, why don't you ask William if he'll come along and help with the refreshments?' suggested Annabelle who, Flora had noticed, was wearing her hair in a pleasantly untidy way.
Flora felt a bit confused. Why on earth did Annabelle think William might like to help? 'I don't think it would be quite his thing, Annabelle. I know he's a fabulous cook, but selling chocolate bars and ham rolls isn't really what he's into.'
‘Besides, I expect he's gone home by now, hasn't he, Flora?' asked Charles, rather stern.
‘But he lives quite near,' said Annabelle. 'He said. It's why he knows the wood so well.'
‘I haven't got his address,' said Flora firmly and, at last, truthfully.
‘Oh,' said Annabelle. 'But you could get in touch with him via Emma?'
‘Possibly, but Emma's away for a few days,' she improvised, and rapidly changed the subject. 'Now, what other preparations do we need to make?' Really, she was far too busy to think about William and his availability. Annabelle must have approved him by now, or why did she go wandering around a wood with him at night? 'What else do we need to organise?'
‘There's only so much we can do before the day, but we'll get the tables set up and the chairs put out. Please remember there might not be thousands of people, Flora. I don't want you to be disappointed.'
‘Definitely not!' said Annabelle. 'I don't know why you two are making all these preparations. It's not the Antiques Roadshow, after all!’
Flora and Charles exchanged glances. 'No,' said Flora. 'It's not.'
‘Well, if you two don't mind, I want to go and get some things for Mummy. You don't need me for anything, do you, Charles?'
‘Not at the moment, no,' said Charles.
Did he really love her? Flora wondered as she and Charles watched Annabelle leave the room. Surely some sort of endearment would have been appropriate just then? But there was nothing, not even a 'darling'. They both professed to be in love, but from where Flora was sitting there was something strangely cold about the whole relationship.
‘So,' said Charles when he and Flora were alone, 'how many people do you think will turn up?'
‘Well, thanks to Geoffrey, almost everyone at choir will bring something. Edie's got the WI and various other local groups interested.'
‘And then there's the advertisements,' Charles said levelly.
Flora nodded and confessed. 'Which I put in every local paper for miles around.'
‘So I noticed.' Flora couldn't tell if he was pleased at her initiative, horrified, or just accepting.
‘And there's one more thing I should tell you,' she said.
‘Yes?'
‘You know all those antiques programmes on telly have really lovely young male presenters?'
‘Flora, I don't have time to watch daytime—'
‘Of course, sorry. Well, they do. And one of the tenors in the choir looks really like one of them. He's going to wear the right clothes and hang around.'
‘Are you saying you've hired a television presenter look-alike, when the genuine article probably doesn't know anything about antiques, let alone the fake version, so people think they might be on television?’
Charles didn't seem nearly as annoyed about this as he would have been last week, Flora realised. 'Those presenters have all been in the antiques trade for years,' she protested.
‘That's not the point I'm making, Flora.’
Emma had hinted there was something sexy about a man being stern and Flora now had to agree with her. 'It's just a bit of set-dressing. I'm not really deceiving anyone.’
The sternness continued just long enough to make Flora genuinely anxious, and then he said, 'Actually, there's something I ought to confess to you, although why I should when you didn't tell me any of what you've been getting up to . .
‘What, Charles? God, you're so maddening sometimes!'
‘I know one of the experts those programmes use. He's coming down to help. And he might bring a small television crew with him. It depends on what else is on.’
Flora got past the furniture and into his arms without knowing how she'd done it. 'Charles! You are such a star! I love you!' She kissed him hard on the cheek and then stepped away. 'Only in a cousinly, co-director sort of way, of course,' she added.
‘Of course,' he said after a second or two. 'I would never imagine you meant it in any other way, ever.'
‘Oh, I don't know, Charles,' said Flora, made reckless by his news and her recent encounter with his smooth cheek and subtle aftershave. 'If you weren't already spoken for . . . No, only joking,' she added hurriedly, not sure which of them she was teasing, Charles, or herself. 'Now, given what you've just told me - have you told Annabelle, by the way?’
He shook his head. 'She's still expecting a man, his dog and a rickety kitchen table the dog will probably fall in love with.’
Flora smiled delightedly. 'You have got a sense of humour - that's so nice!' She frowned suddenly. 'How do you think she'll react?'
‘I think,' he said carefully, 'we might find she does some dressage on Wednesday, so she need only find out about it when the Sheraton chairs come flooding in.'
‘But you don't think they will.'
‘Actually, I know they will because Bob Butler's got a very nice set he's bringing, just in case the film crew turn up and the whole thing becomes real.'
‘Is he the one who asked if you wanted to buy him out?'
‘Actually, there are two of them. They've both been in business for ever, but can't quite bring themselves to retire if no one will take on the business.’
Flora sighed. Bearing in mind they hadn't been speaking for most of the last two weeks, she couldn't believe he'd done so much to help make sure her road-show was a success. Perhaps he didn't think it was such a silly idea after all. 'This is fantastic! I do hope the caterers can cope. I only asked a few of them to come.'
‘Don't worry. The WI will spring into action if the need arises.'
‘They're more into making sexy calendars than sandwiches these days, aren't they?'
‘I promise you, most rural women have been making tea out of urns and buttering baps since they were in short socks. With a blunt knife, and at speed. Trust me on this one.'
‘I trust you on everything, Charles.' She bit her lip. 'We'll need loads more fliers. Shall I do them on the computer, or get them printed? I could buy some coloured paper, so they look a bit more interesting.'
‘Fine. It will save time just to print them off, and then we can do more if we run out.'
‘I'll organise that then. Anything else?'
‘It might be as well to contact the local paper. They might like to send someone along. It is a first, after all.’
She skipped out of the room, inexplicably happy. Her mock Antiques Roadshow was going to be a stunning success thanks to Charles. And to her, of course, but mostly Charles. A real 'television' expert would mean more to the punters than any number of people who just knew everything there was to know about antiques. It was a cynical thought, she realised, but true.
The days before the sale merged into a blur of activity, and Flora had never felt so happy and fulfilled. Annabelle didn't seem to be around much, but Flora and Charles became a team. They were not quite equals, thought Flora, but she was no longer the idiot child.
*
'Thank God it's not raining!' said Flora as she looked out of her window very early on Wednesday morning. 'We don't have to worry about people not turning out because of the weather.’
Now all she had to worry about was what to wear. It was important, what she looked like. Should she be businesslike in a suit? Practical in jeans? Or pretty in the dress that Charles had complimented? No contest, really. She plugged in her travel iron and found the dress, hand-washed the previous Sunday and now a crumpled mess. She arrived at the hall an hour later, a little chilly, but confident that the sun would soon warm her.
Charles appeared shortly after she'd let herself int
o the building and had started putting white sheets on the trestle tables that had been put up the day before.
‘Good morning,' he said.
‘Hi,' she said, suddenly feeling incredibly shy and wishing she'd worn jeans.
‘You'll get your dress dirty. Why don't you put on an apron? There's a drawer full of them in the back room.'
‘Good idea.' She left Charles with the tablecloths and found herself an apron. Someone had once told her that there was something very sexy about a woman in an apron over a pretty dress.
When she came back Charles was talking with two men in tweed jackets and flannel trousers. They were both elderly and distinguished-looking.
‘This is Flora Stanza. Flora, this is Bob Butler, and this is George Woodman. They've both been in the business since Noah was a boy, but they're rivals, not friends.’
They both laughed. 'And we've neither of us been going quite that long, but long enough.' Bob Butler took Flora's outstretched hand. 'You look far too young to be a co-director of an old established business, if you don't mind my saying so.'
‘I am quite young, but I like to think I'm picking it up. What do you think, Charles?' Although she was only making conversation, she found she was pathetically eager to hear his answer.
‘Oh yes. Flora's doing very well. This was all her doing, you know.’
George Woodman looked around sagely 'Well, there's no saying how many people will turn up, but it's a good idea.'
‘I must get on,' said Flora. 'I'm going to put the kettle on when I've done the cloths. Tea, coffee?’
The men told her what they wanted. 'Nice to have a pretty girl to make you tea, Charles,' one of them said as Flora left.
‘We all make tea from time to time at Stanza and Stanza, even the directors,' said Charles. Flora felt very pleased: Charles had referred to her as a director – yes! At five to nine Flora peered out of the window to see if anyone she knew had turned up, terrified she'd be greeted by an entirely empty street. 'Argh!' she shouted.
‘What?' Charles came running.
‘About a million people! All queuing up outside, clutching things.'
‘You'd better let them in then,' he said with a broad grin. 'They're all there because of you, you know. It's a good thing I told the local television news team about it. This'll be very good advertising for us. Do you need a hand with those doors?’