Flora's Lot by Katie Fforde (best books under 200 pages TXT) 📗

I'm the one with the stake in the business, notAnnabelle.' Now it wasobvious why Geoffrey didn't want Annabelle to have even a small share of it financially.

Driving home at the end of a long day, very tiredand filthy dirty,Flora had time to consider how much money she stood to make herself if thebuildings were all turned intoflats and sold. She was too weary to make a very accurate guess but it was surely a great deal ofmoney. What would shedo with over a million pounds? Maybe itwas the fatigue, but at that moment she couldn't think of anything she wanted except a hot bath, a packetof crisps and a glass of wine.

She had turned the key in the lock and opened the door before she remembered William. A wonderful savoury smell wafted out from the kitchen, and the cottage looked very cosy. There was a fresh bunchof wild roses on the mantelpiecethat she hadn't put there, and a firelaid in the fireplace. Not that you'd need one in this weather, but it lookednice to have it there.

Therewas no sign of William, however - he'd clearly seen that Flora was serious about her instructionsto leave - so when she had dumpedher bag she ran upstairs to see Imelda and thekittens. They were fine, and Imelda's littertray had obviously been changed. The jokeabout the gay burglars who tidied the house and left a quiche in the oven came into her mind and made her smile. It must be William - who else could itbe? But was he gay? She couldn't possibly tell.

She dragged herself away from the little furrybundles, which weremaking little swimming movements to get about, and went back downstairs, aware how hungry she was, thrilled that there was something in theoven.

She had just taken it out when there was a knock onthe door. 'William,' she said, smiling in spite of her resolutions not to, 'you'd better come in.'

‘I just came to check you'd come homeroughly when you said you'd come, and that your supper wasn't burning.'

‘It was very kind of you to make me supper.'

‘It was very kind of you not to callthe police and make an awful fuss.'

‘Would you like a glass of wine?' Shewas desperate for one herself andrealised that she would enjoy it more incompany. And he had cooked for her, after all.

‘Thatwould be very nice. Shall I check on the pie?'

‘Ifyou like. You might as well share it with me. What is it?'

‘Cheese and onion and tomato pie. I'm not a vegetarian, but you didn't have any meat. A bit of bacon goes wellwith it.'

‘I'll get some tomorrow, if I have time to slip out to the shops.’

‘I'll find some knives andforks.'

‘William,' she saidonce they'd settled down with steamingplates on their knees, 'how much time do you spend here usually?'

‘It varies, but I spent most of the winter here.’

‘Is that why it smells ofwood smoke?'

‘Probably. The fire didsmoke a bit when the chimney was cold.’

Flora swallowed a mouthful of pie. It was deliciousand, she thought prudently,probably very cheap. `Do Charlesand Annabelle have any idea that you exist?' Then she realised that of course they didn't know,they'd be apoplectic at the thought.

‘Who are Charles and Annabelle?'

‘They own this cottage. Or at least,Annabelle does. Charles is my cousin.’

He shrugged. 'I don't care much about that sort of thing. If a house is empty, I don't see why Ishouldn't use it. I didn't do any damage, afterall.'

‘I only have your word for that!' declared Flora, laughing. 'It could have been a palace before I moved in.’

William regarded her seriously. 'It was a cottage,it is still a cottageand will be a cottage until some Philistine puts a huge extension on it.'

‘You're a fine one to talk aboutPhilistines! Taking over houseswithout a by-your-leave. What are you doingaround here, anyway? Are you a poacher or something?'

‘I'm a poet and a portrait painter,but I do take the odd rabbit or pheasant if I need it.'

‘Andyou squat in empty buildings?'

‘Do you know why Marxists drink herb tea?' William took a sip ofhis wine.

‘No.' She took a sip ofhers.

‘Because all proper teais theft,' announced William. 'Only, of course, it wasn't Marx who saidthat.’

Flora laughed. 'Can I tell you what joke I thoughtof when I went upstairs and foundyou'd changed the cat litter?'

‘That was to ingratiate myself with you.'

‘I'm sure it was, but it made methink of the joke about the gayburglars, who tidy the house and leave a quiche in the oven.’

He laughed and shook his head. 'I'm afraid I'm not gay, but I'm completely trustworthy and, if itmakes you feel anybetter, although I think you're very pretty, I don't fancy you.'

‘That's all right then.' Curiously it did make her feel better. 'Is there any moreof this pie?’

*

She was at the saleroom again at eight-thirty inthe morning, and sowas nearly everyone else. The sale startedat ten. There was another chance to view from nine o'clock, and Virginia had told her that theyallowed people to go onviewing on the stage, where the smaller, more stealable items were, until halfan hour before the sale got to their lot numbers.

As always, she found a huddle of people in the kitchen, dunking tea bags in and out of mugs. 'Hi, Flora,' saidGeoffrey. 'Ready for your first sale?'

‘I hope so. I'm really looking forward to it. After you've spent days handling and looking at allthis, you almost feel like it's yours.’

He chuckled. 'Well, if you want to bid on anything,let Charles know, and get a cardfrom the office. It's a good way to furnish ahouse cheaply.’

Flora took a moment to consider how much fun it would be buying things for the cottage and thenremembered it wasn'ther cottage and that the London flat didn't really needanything extra - it was cramped enough already. 'Not at the moment, Geoffrey.'

‘It's how Edie and me got most of thestuff for our daughters. If you work here long enough you'll seeeverything you could ever want or need pass by. I bought most of the furniture for our place when I was a dealer.'

‘That's why you