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

wouldcount as being paid in London. I didn't have to pay rent, you see.'

‘Well, I'm sure you'll pick somethingup, if you're not too fussy. I'm not sureif Sotheby's will take you on just like that, though.’

Flora smiledobligingly 'No, but when I've sorted myself out a bit, I will think aboutworking for an auction house. It's so exciting.’

Emma wasn't very enthusiastic. 'But I'vea feeling if you want to work for one of those places and live in London, ithelps if you've got a private income.'

‘You'reprobably right. Maybe I should find a country auction house who wants to take on an apprentice.I can always do bar work in the evenings.'

‘Or you could get better-paid work.You've had loads of quite high-earning jobs in the past.'

‘They were just jobs, not careers,' saidFlora. 'I don't know if I'd be satisfied with that now.'

‘Well,don't be too fussy. And why don't you go and have a shower and wash your hair?I fancy going out tonight. Some people fromwork are meeting up at a new wine bar. You can come and meet them.'

‘Oh, Emma, do I have to?'

‘Yes! I don't want to leave you here onyour own, and besides, I said I'd be bringingmy pretty friend.’

‘I'm not pretty now,' said Flora glumly.

‘But you would be if you did somethingabout yourself! Get in that shower!’

An hour and a half later Flora was in the sort of bar that had been her natural habitat before she wentto the country and ruined herself for civilised life. She tried reallyhard to be bright and amusing and live up to the reputation Emma had createdfor her. If her heart had not been broken,it would have been as easy as breathing. As it was, every smile, every flickered eyelash, every littlehand gesture felt forced. Fortunately, it seemed to have the right effect.

‘So,Flora, what do you do?' came the inevitable question from Emma's boss,who was called Tim.

‘I'm between jobs at the moment, but I've justfinished helping run an auction house.' She smiled andsipped her spritzer, wishing she could go home and put her sweater back on.'What about you?’

Flora ran the conversation on auto-pilotuntil Tim said, 'We'responsoring an art exhibition. I know nothing about art,don't even know what I like, but apparently it's a good marketing tool.’

Flora beganpaying attention, wondering what William would have to say about the word 'art' being included in thesame sentence as 'marketing tool'. 'You don'tneed any extra help, do you? That's just the sort of thing I'm good at.'It would be easy, and it would get her out of Emma's hair.

‘What? Whatare you good at?’

She shrugged, smiling, trying to blagherself a job. 'Talking to people, handing out leaflets, showing peopleartworks. I can do it all.’

Tim frowned. 'Well, I suppose we coulddo with some extra help. Do you know anything about merchant banking?'

‘No,but I'm very good at learning things by heart, and acting, and believeme, I can sell ice to Eskimos.' She delivered him a full-on smile that didn'toften fail her. Charles was the only manwho had seemed immune to its wattage.

Tim smiled. 'I think you've talkedyourself into a job, Flora.'

‘You see!I'm just the girl you need.'

‘I'll need you to wear business clothes.'

‘Iknow just what you mean! Darling little suits, crisp shirts and heels.'Or perhaps no shirt, just a hint of cleavage.She would have to raid Emma's wardrobe. Her own darling little suits were currently suffocating in black plastic bags in the Lancaster Gate flat.She didn't have a key and wouldn't be able to arrange to retrieve themin time.

‘You seemvery keen.'

‘I am! It's just the sort of job I love.You can leave me in total charge, and I'll cope. I'm good at responsibility.’

Tim's scepticism was gradually worn awayuntil he was convinced that Flora was just what he needed. The pay was quitegood, too.

In the taxi home, Emma was just asenthusiastic. 'I knew it wouldn't take you long to get a job. I said you alwaysfall on your feet. And while it might not be the most demanding job in the world, it'll get you out there. You'llhave loads of fun.’

Florasighed. 'I know you're right about me needing to get outinto the world, but I think "loads of fun" is a bit beyond me at the moment.’

*

Flora,wearing one of Emma's suits, the button of which came a little far down even for Flora'sliberal attitudes, was sipping water from a bottle. The gallery was full ofpeople screaming at each other. No one seemed to be looking at the art, but alot of people had come up to chat to her about merchant banking. To a man - andthey were all men - they knew more about it than she did but they all stayed to hear her patter and offer to get heranother drink. Several had slipped their businesscards into her pocket. It was quite good for the ego, she decided, andpromising when it came to looking for more permanent work. One of those Citytypes would have a vacancy for her, doingsomething. She had many more skillsnow than she had when she'd lived in London before.

There was a small lull in proceedingsand Flora was resting her voice, rehydrating, waiting for the next man bored with art to come up and be told things heknew by a girl who didn't know them, when she saw what seemed to be a familiar head bobbing through thecrowd. She dismissed it as hercrazed mind seeing Charles where Charles could not possibly be, and thenhe appeared.

Her mouthwent numb and she broke out into a sweat. She tried hard to form her mouth into asemblance of a smile but it wasn't a very convincing attempt. Speaking wasbeyond her.

‘God,it's taken me a long time to track you down!' he said crossly. 'Why the hell didn't you leave a forwardingaddress?’

Floratried to work some saliva into her mouth so she couldspeak. 'Hello.' Her voice was husky and she cleared her throat. 'What are you doinghere?'

‘I'vebeen looking for you!' Charles seemed irritated, as if they'd had anassignation and she'd failed to turn up.

‘Why?'

‘Oh, for God's sake, Flora! Have you gota coat? No? Good, then