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

irritation at the sight of her kitten taking so wellto someone else. 'He likes you.’

‘Is it a boy?'

‘I think so.It's quite hard to tell. No, don't look! He's happy where he is.’

She stoodup too quickly and, swaying slightly, put her hand onhis shoulder to steady herself. 'I'll leave you to it. I must get on.'

‘Yes,sorry, I must get back.' Charles put the kitten back in its box and got up. 'Things to do. Jeremy's really lookingforward to it.'

‘Ishe? I don't know if he should. I think we're having nettle quiche tostart.'

‘Itwasn't the food I was thinking about when I was giving him details.'

‘Oh?'

‘It was the company.’

Charles started downstairs, Flora behindhim, suffering from mild shock. He was beingnice. Or polite, at least.

‘Areyou going to wear that dress?' Charles asked. Flora glanced down at the little slip dress covered witha tea towel. 'No. It's got chocolate on it.’

‘Oh, so it has.’

Florabecame thoughtful. She was sure she'd seen him looking atthe chocolate smears with distaste. Perhaps she'd got it wrong.

When he'dgone she went back to the kitchen and startedwhipping egg whites, wishing there was an electric beaterin the cottage. Charles really was a law unto himself -talk about inscrutable! He made the sphinx seem like easy reading.

*

William,the cook, in charge of it all, was the calmest during anafternoon of preparation. He just stayed in the kitchen,doing his thing, while Flora and Emma cleaned and tidied and panicked.Flora was nervous for so many reasons that they'd merged intoa single mass of anxiety. Loyally, Emma picked up on her feelings and didher best with the downstairs, which wasn't too bad, while Flora attacked her bedroom.

Thedisadvantage of having kittens in your bedroom, sherealised, was that people were likely to go in there and look at them. Thus ithad to be tidy. She was still blushing with embarrassment about howit had been when Charles came, although they did seem better friends nowthan before, which was definitely a good thing.

Now herbedroom was a picture of ordered simplicity. Her bedwas made so perfectly it looked as if no one had slepton it, ever. The clothes and shoes, which had beenstrewn everywhere earlier, were packed into suitcases andhidden in the Land-Rover. The fact that even the clean ones would now have to beironed again, possibly even washed, had notdeterred her. She had a travel iron,after all, and she was aiming for the nun's cell look.

To thisend, all the detritus of womanhood had been swept fromsight, put into shoe boxes and hidden under the bed,and a simple bouquet of wild flowers adorned her dressing table in their stead. Ifshe could have persuaded Imelda and thekittens to stay in their current, artisticallyarranged positions, she would have been completely satisfied, but as they'd look beautiful whatever they did, she wasn't too bothered. Annabellewouldn't go up to see them anyway.That Jeremy might, though, and nowshe wanted Charles to admire them again, so he could see she wasn't always a slut. She could do minimalism,she just didn't, often.

They hadspent hours decorating the dining table. Emma, afterscoffing at Flora's ideas initially, had become particularly enthusiastic.

‘Iwant it to be very French,' Emma said, 'like a picture out of a posh cookbook. You know, when they havereally pretty children in whitedresses with garlands of flowers in their hair, and the mums are allreally thin and gorgeous, even the cook.’

She hadgathered tiny bouquets of wild flowers and pinned upthe corners of Annabelle's double sheets that were doing service as tablecloths.

‘Youdon't think it looks a bit - bridal?' said Flora when Emma had finished. 'It just needs a big white cake in themiddle and a priest.'

‘It'stotally how I want my wedding to be,' said Emma. 'Only with champagne,of course.'

‘Sorryabout that,' said Flora. 'Have some frascati instead.’

Emma tookthe glass without thinking. 'I wonder if Dave would like a wedding like this?'

‘Darling,'said Flora seriously. 'Don't think about the wedding, think about the man. It's not worth going through all the hassle of getting married to endup with . . .' She paused.

‘Dave?' suggested Emma.

‘Well, yes.Sorry, Em. I just don't think he's good enough for you.'

‘He doesn't want me, anyway.’

Floraglanced at her watch. Sympathetic as she was to Emma'sfeelings, and usually very willing to let people talk about their problems, shejust felt there wasn't quite time for it all now. 'He probably does,but you have to think really carefully about whether you wanthim. Now I want you to take time this evening, when we'reall chatting and laughing - please God we do all chatand laugh - and think about whether he makes youhappy. Not necessarily all the time,' she went on,reasonably, 'no one can expect that, but most of the time.Now, I'm just going to get a cloth and polish the cutlery.It still lookssmeary. And the glasses.'

‘Let's haveanother glass of wine first,' said Emma. 'Then I'm going to change.’

*

Both womenwere in the kitchen, getting in William's way, whenthey heard a car drive up. They both rushed into thesitting room so they could see who it was before Flora went to the door.

‘Doyou think they'll all come together?' she asked Emma.

‘How on earth would I know?’

As thedoors of Charles's car opened and a large man emerged,they exchanged glances. 'Don't fancy yours much,' murmured Flora to Emma.

‘Oh Idon't know,' said Emma. 'I think he's OK. Now let's have a look at thisCharles.’

Fortunatelyfor Flora, her hostessly duties meant she had to go out and greet her guestsand not listen to her friend's opinion of her cousin andbusiness-partner, who she had recently discovered was notquite as loathsome asshe'd once thought.

Jeremy, whom Flora would have pairedwith Annabelle, had she been playing HappyCouples, a card game she had yet topatent, was pleasantly tall, with slightlysparse curly hair, and wore a striped shirt and the sort of corduroys that lookgood in the country.

He wasalso the kind of man who kissed everyone, even on a firstmeeting. This set the tone for everyone else, otherwiseCharles would never have kissed her, possibly fearing that such an action mightturn him to stone. Not that you'd've noticed before, sheadded, with a secret chuckle. But he