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

Charles. The waiter rushed up, to see if she needed pattingon the back. He was sent away by Charles's frown.

‘Didn'tyou know?' asked Charles. 'I thought you were in her confidence.’

Flora shook her head and sipped somewater. 'She never told me she was going to have herself painted naked! It seemsso unlike her!'

‘I don't know about that. Since you didyour Trinny and Susannah act on her, she'sbeen a changed woman.’

Florasuddenly became very hot. If she hadn't meddledwith Annabelle's wardrobe, thrown out the pie-crust collars, got her to stop doing hershirts up to the neck, she and Annabellemight not have been any happier, butat least Charles might have been. He must have liked the pie-crustcollars.

‘I'mso sorry,' she whispered as guilt flooded over her. 'I don'tthink-you're aware of your powers, Flora,' he answered, looking maddeninglyinscrutable.

Flora gothold of herself. 'Oh, come on, you can't blame it all on me! She's astrong-minded woman, Annabelle.’

Braced byhis unreasonableness, she attacked another section of steak. She didn't bother withthe chips, delicious though they were, sheneeded iron, a few red corpuscles, to keep her emotional flag flying.

‘Soyou don't take responsibility for Annabelle behaving out of character?'

‘No!' She concentrated on deepening hervoice so she didn't sound too mouse-like.'No. You can't take responsibility for the actions of adults in their rightminds. It's just neurotic, blaming yourself for everything.'

‘Amoment ago you were blaming yourself for Annabelle's improved dresssense making her skittish, now you won'taccept any culpability for her having her portrait painted naked.’

Florasuddenly wondered if that was all that was going on between Annabelle and William.Despite her threats to Flora, it seemedAnnabelle had ended up relinquishing Charlesquite quickly - maybe William had been a factor. After all, taking your clothes off in front of a man was a veryintimate thing to do, even if only in the capacity of artist's model. She didn't mention this rogue thought.

‘Only you would use a word like"culpability" in conversation,Charles.' She took another sip of wine. She had been about to say thatit was one of the things she loved abouthim. Not because it was in any way lovable, but because it was socharacteristic of him.

‘Are you going to eat your chips?'

‘No. Do have them.' She watched as he piled hisplate with frites. 'Honestly, how you can eat so much .. 'What?' Charles chewed stolidly.

‘At a time like this,' she managed, deliberately being unspecific.

He put down his knife and fork and glanced at his watch. 'Half pasteight?’

Flora folded her lip behind her teeth tostop herself smiling. 'I said a time like this, not this specific time.' Thenshe remembered her fake appointment to visit a flat. She thought it was abouttime she referred to it again. 'And if it'shalf past eight, I must go. I've got to get to Islington, and I have no idea how long that'll take me.'

‘Too long. And why go to Islington anyway?’

‘I told you, tolook at a flat.'

‘But I told you I've come to take you home.'

‘Well, I can't possibly go. For onething, the Land-Rover's in a residential parking space outside Emma's house.'

‘Imust remember to report the fact that you stole it to the police.'

‘It'shalf mine, anyway. And apart from Imelda, who I am sure is perfectlyhappy being fed sardines by Edie, give meone good reason why I should go back to Stanza and Stanza?' She took abreath and carried on, in case he didn't give her the answer he wanted. 'Thebusiness is picking up no end, you can buy out Bob and George and get all their business, the website worksbrilliantly. You can really become profitable.'

‘DidGeoffrey tell you he wants to buy into the business?'

‘No, really? How fantastic!' That mustbe the plan for the money the books hadraised that Geoffrey was being so mysterious about. 'He knows so muchabout everything and the extra cash would come in very useful.' In fact, Florarealised, it would be more than useful - it wouldenable Charles to repay Annabelle's father's loan. And Annabelle's holdover Charles would disappear.

‘Extracash is always useful.' Charles smiled ruefully. 'But it would go toyou, not to the business.'

‘What?'

‘You'dget the cash, not the business, because it would be your shares he'd bebuying, wouldn't it?’

Flora shook her head. 'Not necessarily, they could be some of yours. But if he wants to buy some of mine,that's fine by me. In fact, if he wanted to buy me out entirely, thatwould be great.’

Charlesfrowned, rattled for the first time. 'But, Flora, I thought you loved the auctioneeringbusiness.'

‘Ido,' she agreed in a small voice. 'But it doesn't have to be Stanza andStanza, does it?'

‘No other business has your name on theletterhead, Flora. Doesn't that mean anything to you?'

‘Yes, itdoes, but . . .' Tears clogged the back of her throat. She felt very tired, and very despondent. Charles had travelled all the way up to London to ask herto come back, but it now seemed very clear it was only for businessreasons.

‘But what?'

‘It might be better if I became anauctioneer with another auction house, somewhere else.'

‘Why?'

‘Because. . .' What could she possibly say that would make any sense?

‘There's no reason at all, is there?’

She gave a little shrug and looked into the middle distance which happened to be the specials board.There was a reason, a very goodreason, but not one she could possibly give Charles.

‘Would you like pudding?'

‘No, thank you.' She regarded him. 'Butdon't let me stop you. Why not have the profiteroles?'

‘There's something I want more thanchocolate- covered pastries.'

‘What?' Flora scanned the blackboardagain 'Tarte au citron? Tarte tatin?'

‘No, yousilly creature, I want you. Come on.’

He tossed a large sheaf of ten-poundnotes on to the table and got to his feet.

Rather than face the embarrassment of his highhanded behaviour withthe matter of the bill, Flora allowed him to take her arm and rush her out ofthe restaurant and on to the pavement, whichhad suddenly become quite busy.

‘Now where?' demanded Flora,trying to remember she was atwenty-first-century woman and therefore not to be hauled aboutwilly-nilly.

‘A hotel, I think. Taxi!’

A taxipulled up and Flora got into it. Charles collapsed on to the seat next to her.

‘Where to?' asked the taxi driver