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

‘Thatsounds fine. In the meantime, I'll make a fire. Or is it too late to be worth it?’

Floraglanced at her watch. It was past eleven. On the other hand, the thought of a fire was socosy.

‘That sounds a lovely idea. I'll go andhop in the bath.' She almost ran upstairs.Supposing William had used all thelogs Charles was expecting to find? She'd just have to hope he couldn't remember how many had been there. Sheslipped off her robe and got in the bath.

The hotwater against her cold limbs was heaven. She closed hereyes. Strangely, she found herself thinking aboutCharles downstairs, lighting a fire. It was such a domesticthing to do. If they were a couple, he'd come up when ithad got going and hurry her out of the bath so that hecould get in it. She would go down and make a snack,which they would eat together, with the sofa pulled up to the fire.

‘Flora?’

Shestifled a scream as she heard Charles's voice.

When sheopened her eyes she realised he was outside the door, not in the bathroom with her.'Yes?'

‘Ithought you might have gone to sleep in the bath. The fire's going quite well now. There was morewood than I thought and lots of kindling.'

‘Ohgood. Yes, I think I had drifted off for a minute. I'll get out now and you can get in. If we boil akettle we can make it a bit hotter. I think I used all the hot water.'

‘I'll go and boil the kettle.’

When Florajoined him downstairs in the kitchen, her robe was so tightly belted it wouldhave taken Houdini to release it. Shehadn't gone so far as to get dressed,or even put on her nightie, but she had put on a pair of knickers, and was covered from neck to ankle in whitetowelling. She trusted Charles not to jumpon her more than she trusted Imelda not to break into song, but she couldn't spend the evening with him withoutknickers.

‘I'veput a clean towel in the bathroom, and I found one of my father's old sweaters I stole from him once. It's a bit holey, but cashmere, and wonderfullysoft.'

‘It sounds perfect.'

‘Soyou take the kettle up and I'll make some supper. Did you get somethingearlier?'

‘Notvery much, and it seems a long time ago. I'd love something, but don'tgo to any trouble.’

Sheignored this. 'Can you put the kettle outside the door whenyou've finished with it? We might have to have Cup-a-Soup.’

Helaughed. The vodka seemed to have relaxed him. 'Is that all you can offer me? I wouldhave thought you'd done a cordon bleucookery course at some time in your career.'

‘Idid, but for that you need ingredients. Now run along.’

On her mettle, Flora was determined toproduce something half decent, but what? Itwas quite late to eat a big mealbut, on the other hand, she was starving, and Charles was too. She had spaghetti and a jar of pasta sauce, butsomehow she had to make it more special.

She'dlearnt a lot from William, subliminally. First, she toastedseeds and nuts and splashed tahini on them. Then shecut up a crust of sliced bread, rubbed it with garlic,cut it into cubes and fried it in olive oil, glad that William hadinsisted that she bought a good quality one. Withsomething to nibble ready, she started on the sauce. She ran outinto the rain and found marjoram, then dug out somesalami that Emma had brought and chopped it up. It would still be spaghetti andsauce, but it would be a bit better than just that. There was parmesanleft from the weekend that Emma had stayed. Hergreatest coup of all was a bottle of red wine that hadsomehow not beendrunk at the dinner party.

She putanother log on the fire, lit candles and turned off thelights, and, for a final touch of cosiness, she broughtdown the box of kittens and settled them by the fire.She fiddled with her hair but didn't put scent or make-upon. There was still a little smudge of something roundher eyes. That would do. She wanted the room to becosy and comfortable, but she did not want it to lookas if she was setting out to seduce him. Because she definitely wasn't.

‘Oh,' saidCharles as he came down the stairs into the room. 'It looks – very cosy.'

‘Good. Now come and sitdown. Supper's nearly ready. Glass of wine?'

‘Flora, I'monly staying over because I can't get home. You don'thave to provide a romantic dinner for two.'

‘I have toprovide something to eat, and you lit the fire.' Shesuddenly felt slightly embarrassed. 'We might as wellsit in front of it. And I've brought the kittens down foryou to play with, so just stop being grouchy. And here, have a nibble.’

He laughedand the sound of it affected Flora somewhere inher breastbone. The timbre of his voice was one of themost attractive things about him, she realised, wondering how or why she hadn't noticedbefore.

Everythingtook a little longer than she had anticipated andwhen she finally went into the sitting room, with twoplates of spaghetti and sauce, Charles had fallen asleep. Akitten, the little black one who was far shyer than the others, was nestled into hisneck.

As quietlyas she could, she set the two plates down on the lowtable that was in front of the fire. She went back to gether glass, the parmesan, and a jug of water. By thetime she'd come back for the last time, he'd woken.

‘I must say, this looks delicious,' hesaid.

‘It'sjust spaghetti and sauce out of a bottle, you don't have to go overboard with the compliments,' shesaid. 'Tuck in.'

‘I'msorry. That remark obviously stung. What I meant to say was that you didn't need to go to a lot of trouble. A Cup-a-Soup and a bit of toast would have beenfine.'

‘That'swhat you'd've got if I'd had any bread,' she laughed.'Not sure what I'll give you for breakfast. Nettle soup, possibly.’

He raised his glass toher. 'Slainte.'

‘What?'

‘It'swhat they say on Scottish islands with unpronounceable names.'

‘Oh.All right then.' She raised her own glass and then took a sip. The look in his eyes when