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

late she realised what she'd said. 'I mean, although I'mnot wearing a lot, because it's sucha hot day, I am quite sensible and useful, really.'

‘Irealise you're a very attractive woman, Flora.' She had to be grateful he hadn't said 'girl'. 'Butyou'll find that you can'trely on your charm and your looks all the time.'

‘No.' Flora felt almost as bad as ifhe'd slapped her.

‘I'msure you do have valuable skills,' he said, obviously not believing a word of it. 'It's just I doubtthey're relevant to ourbusiness. You have absolutely no experience, after all.'

‘I have worked in an art gallery,' shebegan. 'I was there for two years -up until last month. And I'm good withpeople,' she went on, knowing it was the sort of thing said about people who had absolutely no other talents whatsoever. 'And I worked at a managementconsultants' once.' She'd been areceptionist, and very good she'd been too.

‘As I said' - his manner made Florawonder if she could get through thejourney without actually killing him - 'I'm sure you're a veryaccomplished girl—'

‘Woman,' she snapped.

‘Woman,' he corrected himself after aquick glance at her expression. 'ButI don't think your particular - very valuable- skills are suited to an old-established family business.'

‘And in what way are old-establishedfamily businesses different from newones? Don't they need to get newbusiness? Be efficient? Make a profit? Or don't they have bills to pay like every other business in theworld?’

He sighed. 'Obviously we have expenses, although ofcourse we own the building. We employ several people, have vehicles to maintain—'

‘In other words,' she interrupted,'you're the same as every otherbusiness: you need to operate at a profit. Do you operate at a profit? I do have the right to ask,' sheadded, when he didn't reply.

‘No. But Annabelle has some ideas onhow to change that.'

‘Which are?'

‘It's none of your—'

‘It is my business, you know. Slightlymore mine than yours, actually.’

Thunderclouds gathered in his dark, thick eyebrows. 'I don't think I can discuss these things without Annabelle beingpresent.'

‘Oh? I didn't realise she was ashareholder already,' Flora said innocently.

‘She's not! But she's - she's beeninvolved in the business for alittle while now and it wouldn't be right for me to discuss things with you behind her back,' he said tightly.

‘OK, seems fair enough. Tell me,' shewent on, 'has Geoffrey . . . what is it?'

‘Whiteread.'

‘Oh yes. Has he worked for you long?'

‘Not that long. But his father usedto be a partner in my grandfather's time.'

‘But he isn't now? I mean, Geoffreydidn't inherit from his father?'

‘No. Geoffrey's father lost his shareplaying cards, but out of kindness,the family gave Geoffrey a job when he came back to the area.'

‘And you'll keep him on until he retires?'

‘If he ever does retire it would be a miracle. Here we are,' he said,which didn't answer her question. He turned down a track. 'As you'll see, if the weather changes, you'd find the road almost impossible tonegotiate. You'll regret ever coming here.’

If this was a barely veiled invitation to go backhome, she wasn'tgoing to accept it. 'If I'm not happy here, I'm sure I can find somewhere else to stay.'

‘Notthat easy with a pregnant cat.'

‘But not impossible,either. Anyway, my little car is verysolid, when it's not being banged into. And it was not that close to the corner,' she reiterated, toavoid a repeat of their earlier argument.

‘Yes, but it's also quite low to theground. It might bottom on some of the rocks in the road.'

‘Is that one of the reasons youhaven't let the cottage this year?'she asked, when they had bumped their way down a few yards.

‘Yup.It needs money spending on it.'

‘You might be better tosell it, perhaps?'

‘It's not mine to sell.'

‘I'd forgotten.' Shehadn't, actually, but she was aware ofan undercurrent that she didn't understand. Charles obviously disliked her, and not just because shewas butting into his family business.

He sighed, possibly aware that his hostility was visible. 'There are a lot of things you will need to know if you stay around, but I don't want to explaineverything if you're just afly-by-night. It's complicated.'

‘It always is. Oh, is that it? It's delightful!’

Isolated, the cottage was set against woodland andfaced rolling hills. The late afternoon sun shone on to it, making the windows golden. It had a front door,a window on either side, and threewindows on the storey above.A small shed leant against the side of the house, and a rambling rose scrambled up the porch and onto the roof.

‘It is very charming to look at,yes,' said Charles, pulling on thehandbrake. 'Not quite so easy to live in, as you'll no doubt discover.It was a gamekeeper's cottage. You'll find it very lonely.’

Determined not to rise to the bait, Flora took adeep breath, got outof the car, and walked towards her new home.

ChapterThree

 When he had let them both in, and gone back to the Land-Rover to start unloading, Flora allowedherself a few moments to settle Imelda in the kitchen and have a look around before helping him.

The door opened straight into the only living room, which contained a fireplace, a staircase and alingering smell of wood smoke. That could mean two things, she thought, either the fire smokes unbearably and thewhole place isimpregnated with it, or someone's had a fire quite recently.

She checked the kitchen, a lean-to at the back ofthe originalcottage, was secure for Imelda, let her out of her box, and then went to get her litter tray.

‘It's a dear little cottage,' shesaid to Charles, who was carrying abox of saucepans, a toaster, an electric kettle, and other things Annabellethought necessary. 'Don't let Imelda out. She's in the kitchen.'

‘I'm sure she'll be safe there. I hope you will be too.’

As Flora couldn't decide if this remark was meant kindly, sarcastically or threateningly, she ignoredit, and dragged asuitcase out of the back of the vehicle. It was impossibly heavy, but she wasn't going to letCharles see it defeat her.

‘Well, I'm here now,' she declared, perspiring freely andhardly able to speak, dumping the suitcase in the sitting room. 'And you'rejust going to have to get used to me.’

He turned and stared