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

‘Look!' shecalled to Geoffrey as Edie, who would haveappreciated it more, had gone off in search of plants.

Reluctantly,he came back and saw what she was exclaiming over with such pleasure. 'Hm, not bad. There's a market for kitsch. How much?' he askedthe vendor, a businesslike young woman who was mostly selling children'stoys.

‘That's ten pounds. It's a genuineCarter.’

Geoffreysucked his teeth. 'Ooh, I doubt that it is. Doesn'thave the quality. I'll give you three for it.’

‘Sorry. Can't do that.'

‘Four pounds?’

She shookher head again. Geoffrey sighed and pulled afive-pound note out of his pocket. 'Here you are then. Call it adeal.' He handed the note to the woman in such a way that she had to accept it.

She sighed,picked up the teapot and started wrapping it in newspaper. 'You've robbedme, but it's not to everyone'staste, I don't suppose.’

Geoffreyhanded Flora the teapot as they walked away. 'Here you are.'

‘Hang on, I'vegot a five-pound note here,' she began. 'Nonsense. It'sa present. On a good day it could fetch fifteen quid at auction.'

‘Oh, I wantto keep it! I collect teapots. Thank you so much.' Privately the thought of how muchCharles would hate it made her quite skippy inside.

‘It'sa pleasure. But I do think you should consider selling it next time wehave a sale.’

Flora stoodby Geoffrey as he went through boxes of old tools.She was watching the groups of people as they inspectedthe bottoms of pots, no doubt still hoping to find anundiscovered Clarice Cliff. Clothes fluttered on rails andshe wondered if her own clothes would fetch enough tomake any difference to her financial state. WhileGeoffrey's attention was elsewhere, she took the opportunityto inspect the nearest rail. She found a dark brown suede skirt.

‘Howmuch for this?' she asked the stallholder, a young woman who had two small children with her and wasobviously not entirely focused.

‘Oh,I don't know. Make me an offer.' She looked longingly at the skirt in Flora's hand. 'I loved that skirt. Ijust don't think I'll ever fit into it again.'

‘Of course youwill!' said Flora, who instantly rejected the idea ofbuying it now she knew it was so precious to its owner.

‘Give you acouple of quid for it,' said another woman, whoobviously lacked not only Flora's sensitive nature, but also her figure.

The youngwoman started to take the skirt off its hanger.'No!' Flora interrupted quickly. 'I'll give you a fiver.’

The youngmother looked hopefully at the woman who had offered two pounds.

‘No way,' shesaid disgustedly and moved away 'She wouldn't have got into it,' muttered Flora, watching hermove through the crowd.

‘She'd sellit on,' said the skirt's owner. 'Do you really want itfor a fiver? I'd like you to have it. I wouldn't feel so badabout selling it if I knew it was going to a good home.’

Florafound her purse again, cursing her sentimental nature. Theramekins she could justify, but spending five poundson a skirt she didn't really need, when she was sobroke, was just silly. Perhaps she would have to put her teapot into the next sale.

‘Idon't think I'll bother to sell my clothes,' said Flora as she caught upwith Geoffrey, forgetting he was unaware ofher financial straits. 'I wouldn't get much for them.'

‘Why would you want to?' he asked.

‘Oh,I was just wondering, you know, what I might get for them.'

‘Ithink you'd be better off buying than selling, if it's clothes you're interested in. What have you gotthere?' He indicated the plastic bag containing the skirt.

‘Oh, a dear little skirt. It was only afiver.'

‘Afiver! You were robbed, my dear. Did you haggle?’

‘Er . . .not really,' Flora admitted. 'I thought it was a good price.'

‘Youshould always haggle. I could have got that for you for no more than acouple of quid.'

‘Oh.'Flora smiled, feeling foolish. It wasn't that the skirt wasn't worth what she'd paid for it, it wasjust that she was unlikely to want towear it before the autumn and it hadcost a sixth of all the money she had in the world at that particular moment. 'I felt sorry for the woman,'she said quietly.

‘You'redaft, you are,' said Geoffrey. 'Now come along and I'll show you how it's done. There's a tool stall up there. Some ofthem sell very well at auction, and the sellers aren't always so awareof what's valuable. Ceramics, collectables,people know can be worth a bit. There won't be the margin in it.’

Geoffreyand Flora walked slowly along the tables. Although Geoffrey was looking for toolshe allowed Flora to pick up things andexamine them. Some things seemed tobe wildly overpriced to Flora, but she had learnt her lesson and didn't let herself get involved with the sellers.'Who wants an old Tressy doll with no hair?' she asked Geoffrey when they were out of earshot of her owner.

‘Somelittle girl with a few pennies to spend. But if she was in good condition, with her box, she'd be worth money.'

‘And what aboutthose ghastly china ornaments?' 'The little ones probably aren't worth alot, but some of those big heavy horses will fetch quite a bit. They have to be undamaged, though. Ah, herewe are.’

Finding herselfquite unable to be interested in a jumble of carpenters' tools, oldplanes, files, chisels and saws, Flora had a little wander on herown. Her mind was not on the job. She was supposed to belearning her craft but she was too concerned with her financialsituation at the moment. Her parents wouldn't let her or Imeldastarve, but ever since she'd left home Flora had beenextremely independent and wouldn't take subsidies,except in the form of the fare to whatever countryher parents were residing in and, of course, free board and lodging while she was there.

Determined to snap out of her despondentand unhelpful mood she went over to yetanother stall run by a young womanwho looked vaguely familiar and alsorather despondent. She was selling children's toys and clothes, some handbags and a few bags ofcakes. She was perched on thetailgate of her car and perked up a little when Flora approached.

‘It'sFlora, isn't it? I'm Amy, from the choir. Alto.’

‘Hello! Ithought you looked familiar,' said Flora. 'Do you do this