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

same conditionas the rest of the house.’

Theauctioneer and valuer in her (as yet a small, undeveloped part)still noted, as they strode through the house, thatthere were no antiques, no rooms stuffed with old toys,paintings or other apparent rubbish that would turn outto be worth a fortune when discovered by the cognoscenti. That meantAnnabelle's country-house sale was a non-starter and Flora could concentrate on the challengeGeoffrey had set her.

‘You may remember, I'm a member of achoir.'

‘I do, but I don't think you look oldenough.' He smiled. 'Or, for that matter, young enough.'

‘You don't have to be old, or achoirboy, to enjoy making music,' she replied primly.

Henryshrugged and opened the door to the orangery. By nowFlora was fully prepared to find it completely unusable,and then it would have to be the hall. At least she wouldbe able to go back to Geoffrey and tell him she'd done her best.

‘Ah,'she said. There was a puddle the size of a small lake on the floor. 'Why is that water there?' she asked.

‘Possibly because there's a hole in theroof.’

Floralooked up. One of the roof lights was broken, but shecould only see one damaged pane, not a whole slew of them. 'Is it fixable?'

‘Sure.If you've got enough money. Unfortunately, I haven't. You need scaffolding, you see, and it's more than just a broken pane. The woodwork is rotten sothe whole frame needs replacing. Itmakes it all prohibitively expensive.'

‘I see.'

‘So,what was the favour?' He regarded her with the faint, not unattractive, arrogance of a man who is confident withwomen.

Florapulled her shoulders back and returned his gaze. Herconfidence wasn't quite equal to his, but she wasn't going to let him know that. 'Oh, didn'tI say? I'm a member of a choir—'

‘You said that.'

‘Andwe would like to do a concert in your orangery. If you don't mind. Andif it's suitable.'

‘Well,obviously it's not suitable. There's a hole in the roof and a puddle onthe floor.'

‘Thereis that, but I expect we could mop up the water and pray for a finenight.’

He raisedan unconvinced eyebrow. 'Supposing your prayersaren't answered? It was like Niagara here last night.'

‘I can imagine.'

‘Although, to be fair, considering how hard it rained and how longfor, it's not too bad.’

Floraregarded the village-pond-sized pool and didn't comment.

‘Iexpect you're wondering what I'm doing, living here in a house that's a candidate for a televisionappeal. Why I haven't mentioned it.’

Flora raisedher eyebrows. She had more than her fair share ofhuman curiosity and now he had brought the subject up, she did want to know.

‘Ihad been thinking about going abroad,' he said, 'but I can't sell the house in this condition, or atleast, for only a fraction of what itwould be worth if it was properlyrestored. I want to earn the money, do it up, and make a killing.'

‘Thankyou for sharing,' said Flora, realising that she was unaffected by the news that he might be leaving the country.

‘You are unusual. Most women go gooey atthe thought of a beautiful house in need ofrestoration, especially if it comes attached to a . . .' He paused.

Floraraised her eyebrows, unable to resist a chuckle. 'You'veshot yourself in the foot there, Henry! You can't possible say what you'rethinking without appearing to be unbearably conceited.’

He laughed back at her.

‘Youobviously are fairly conceited,' she continued. 'But possibly notunbearably so.’

He smiledapologetically. 'Sorry, but you can see why I don'tinvite women back. They're either horrified and run away,or get pound signs in their eyes and prowl.’

Shechuckled. Annabelle would have prowled. 'I won't do that, I promise.'

‘I don't thinkI'd mind too much if you did.' They exchanged glances. Flora knew hewas interested in her, and was making an effort to summon upmore interest inhim. He was available, after all.

‘Can I make you a cup of coffee?' he offered. 'To make up for being such a prat? Although now I thinkabout it, it'll have to be instantwhich probably won't make up for anything.’

Florahad previously decided to refuse coffee as she was so busy, butshe didn't want to be churlish. She'd be furious with any woman of heracquaintance who didn't maximise her opportunities.

‘I'dappreciate a cup of something. Instant coffee would be fine.’

Florafollowed him into a seventies-style ginger-pine kitchen whichshe yearned to take an axe to. 'So why did you getdivorced, Henry? It's the one fact about you that everyone knows and talks about.’

He sighed.'Very much as you'd expect, I'm afraid.’

‘Philandering?’

Hefrowned. 'You could call it that, I suppose, but there was only one woman.'

‘Andyou are properly divorced, not just separated?’

‘Divorced. She took me for every penny.'

‘Good for her.'

‘Whatdo you mean, "good for her"? I was a good husband.'

‘Who cheated.'

‘OK.I was a good husband who cheated. That doesn't make me all bad, youknow.'

‘Butnot all good either. I don't suppose you have a tea bag instead, do you? Or did your wife take those,too?'

‘I managedto hide a box from her. You can have tea. I even have biscuits, of a sort.’

Florahelped herself to a seat and watched as he filled the kettle,found biscuits and was generally hospitable. She understood,now, why she had been sent. Henry was a bit touchy about his houseand if someone else had gone, even a young and female member of thechoir, they might not have got the right result. Indeed, thought Flora, there was noguarantee that she would be successful, butat least she was in with a chance.

‘Here's your tea. Only dried milk, I'mafraid.'

‘That's OK.’

He pulledround the bench that was on the other side of the table where Flora was sitting.

‘So,where abroad might you go?' she asked. 'If you went, I mean?'

‘The States. Or maybe Switzerland.'

‘Oh. They both sound quite exciting.'

‘Mm. Well, to behonest,' he said with a glint in his eye that left Flora in no doubtat all that he was about to be far from honest, 'I'm only planning to sell upand leave because I'm broken-hearted. I mean, I'm getting nowhere with you and—’

Florablushed, even though she knew he was joking. 'Butyou're not getting nowhere! We had dinner—’

‘Bar snacks. Not the same.'

‘And it wasn't my fault you couldn'tcome to my dinner party.'

‘Probablyjust as well. Charles Stanza doesn't approve of me.'

‘Oh?