Flora's Lot by Katie Fforde (13 inch ebook reader TXT) 📕

After theinitial introductions were over, and they had movedinside to the sitting room (William was still in thekitchen), Flora murmured to Annabelle, 'Just come upstairs a minute.'

‘Going to seethe kittens, sweetheart?' said Charles. 'No,' said Flora briskly. 'Emma, canyou and William do drinks?'

‘Why have you dragged me up here?'demanded Annabelle. 'I must say, it looksvery sweet. Oh, there are the kittens.'

‘Nevermind the kittens, it's your hair! What's with the hairband?’

Annabellecrouched down and regarded herself in Flora'sdressing-table mirror. 'I used to get house points at school for having tidy hair.’

Floratugged off the hairband and ruffled Annabelle's glossylocks. 'Why not go for some life points and muss it up a little?’

Annabelle,surveying her newly tousled hair and accepting its attractiveness, turnedto Flora. 'It's very kind of you to do this.'

‘Yes,isn't it?' Flora said wryly. 'I hope Charles has noticed theimprovement.'

‘Charlesloves me no matter how I look,' Annabelle announced rather smugly. 'This – er – change, is just for me.'

‘And the school reunion?'

‘Yes,and that. Now let's get back down and join the others.’

Imeldayowled suddenly from her space in the bottom of thewardrobe. Flora stayed to comfort her so she could have a few moments alone.

Chapter Thirteen

 Downstairs,Flora found that Jeremy, Charles and Emma were stillstanding round drinkless. William had just emergedfrom the kitchen and introductions were being gotthrough. She took over in time to say, 'Right, well, Emma, thisis Annabelle, and Annabelle, this is William, an old friend of Emma's.’

Williamtook Annabelle's hand. 'I believe you saw me the other day. I'd come over to look upFlora, on Madam's instructions' - he glancedat Emma - 'and as she was out, I thought I'd do some tai chi.’

Jeremyregarded William with suspicion. 'Is that one of those martial art things?'

‘Sort of.'

‘Idon't think he's remotely dangerous,' said Flora, and Jeremy smiled.

‘I hope not,' said William. 'I'm apacifist - and a portrait painter, and a bit of a poet, too.'

‘All the p's,' murmured Emma.

‘I'm ex-Army, myself,' said Jeremy.

Seeingwhat could become a problem, Flora rushed to savethe situation. 'Ex", you say? What a shame. I do love a man in uniform.'

‘Iprefer men who don't need clothes to give them status,' said Annabelle,horribly against type.

Flora,rather thrown, rushed on, 'Shall we all have a drink? Whatwould everyone like? Wine, red or white, elderflower pressé, apple juice . .

‘I'vegot a glass of wine in the kitchen,' said William, 'and if you'll excuse me, I'll go back to thecooking.'

‘Can Ihelp?' asked Annabelle, quick as a knife. 'Did you say you were a portrait painter?'

‘Amongother things, and thank you,' said William, 'I could do with a hand.’

Flora knewperfectly well that if it had been she cooking, Annabellewouldn't have dreamt of offering help, but she seemedpeculiarly intrigued by William. Then again, the wholepoint of the evening was for her to make sure Williamwas safe to trust around her cottage. 'Better take a drink then, Annabelle. White wine?'

‘Marvellous, thank you.'

‘Whatabout the rest of you?' asked Flora, hoping that William needed Annabelle to tear up raw nettles. 'White wine for me, too, please,' said Emma. 'Right.' Flora tipped the bottle up to pour thewine and realised it was empty.

‘Here,let me,' said Charles, and took the corkscrew from Flora's hand.

Usually shewould have protested and opened the bottle herself, but the corkscrew was the kind that required you to put the bottle between your feetand pull like mad, nearly cuttingoff your fingers in the process. Shesurrendered the bottle and the corkscrew.

‘I'll havered,' said Jeremy. 'If that's open already.’

Florasmiled at him as she handed him his glass and saw hisresponse. Oh, don't do that, she thought. This dinner party is complicated enoughalready.

‘Let'sgo outside,' she said instead, leading the way out of the front door. 'It's such a lovely evening and we're eating out there. Besides, you might havenoticed, there's nowhere to sithere. All the furniture's in the garden.'

‘Itlooks very pretty,' said Jeremy, who had followed. 'Did you decorate thetable, Flora?'

‘No,Emma did, actually. She's very artistic. She's got a real flair fordesign.’

Emma, following him out, lookedappropriately modest.

‘So,are you in that sort of business, Emma?' asked Jeremy. 'You're obviouslyreally gifted.’

Florawatched with satisfaction as Emma drew Jeremy away towhere the wrought-iron table and chairs that Charleshad brought had been pulled into a little area by thehedge. There was a cloth on the table and, on that, a vase with a single sprigof honeysuckle and a small dish of pistachios. The garden,untidy as it was, was still extremely pretty with rambling rosesscrambling over the hedge, honeysuckle scenting the airand poppies spilling their petals shamelessly on tothe grass.

‘What areyou having, Flora?' asked Charles from behind her.She turned, unnerved, to see him with his hands full of bottles.

‘Oh,I think I'll just have elderflower. Emma and I had a glass of wineearlier.'

‘Well,it's not stopping me,' called Emma, hearing this. 'I'm surprised it's stopping you, Flo. It's not as if we'vegot to drive anywhere.'

‘I have todrive,' said Charles. 'I'll have elderflower, too.'

‘So, tell me all about what you do nowyou're no longer in the army,' said Emma toJeremy, turning back to the matter inhand. 'I've learnt far more than I want to know about auction houses from Flora. She's totally hooked.'

‘Isthat true?' asked Charles quietly, following Flora, who'd gone to perchon the arm of the sofa.

‘Well,I probably have chewed her ear off a bit,' she admitted.

‘I mean that you're hooked on auctionhouses.'

‘Iwouldn't put it in the plural, but I am hooked on our auction house, yes.' She looked him in theeye. 'But you did know that, Charles.I have told you. On more than one occasion.'

‘I suppose you have.’

Flora tooka breath, thinking about their row and how it stillhung between them. She badly wanted to just sit in silence,enjoying the beautiful summer evening and not sayanything about anything, but she couldn't.

Did hemind about Annabelle disappearing into the kitchen leaving him to make politeconversation? Was he fighting the urge to go storming in there,demanding that Annabelle rip off her rubber gloves and comeback to the party? Would there be a fight? The thoughtmade her smileslightly – it was so unlikely.

‘What's making you smile?' askedCharles.

‘Oh,nothing really!' She,