`I'm sure we'll find that a pleasure,' he said in away that told herhe felt there wasn't a cat in hell's chance he'd do anything of the kind.
Flora sighed. What was wrong with the man? Why couldn't he be more human and friendly? 'I'm not a brainless bimbo, whatever I look like,' she toldhim. 'Once you've acceptedthat, we'll get on much better.'
‘Mydear Flora . . .' His patronising tone affected her like nails down a blackboard. 'Flora,' he beganagain, possibly seeingher reaction to his first effort. 'I'm sure you're not brainless, and I don't know why youshould assume I thought you were.' Lyingso-and-so, she thought. 'But I do think itwill be difficult for you to find ameaningful place as part of Stanza and Stanza.’
She regarded him, her head on one side. 'You know, if you hadn't said the name, my name, I might havebeen convinced. But you did. Stanza is my name as much as yours, and for that reason, even if it wasthe only reason, I feel I have to do what I can for the business.’
Charlessighed and Flora could see he was reining in his temper. 'Thebest you could do for the business is to go back to London and letAnnabelle and me get on with running it. But as you're obviouslynot that keen on the company's welfare,' he continued sharply, 'we'd better get the rest ofyour gear unpacked.’
Flora made her way up the twisting staircase with handfuls of carrier bags. Charles seemed to havesome other problem.It wasn't only his dippy cousin coming to mess with his favourite toy he wasbothered about. But what onearth that problem could be, she couldn't think. She decided to ignore it, dumped her carrierbags on the bed andlooked around at the bedroom. It was nearly filled by a largefour-poster bed. It was an extremely prettybed, but it meant that the chest of drawershad to go on the landing, as did the cupboard which did duty as awardrobe.
The bathroom, when she went to inspect it, was areasonable size, possibly because it had clearly once been a bedroom. Itdefinitely needed brightening up: someplants, bright towels, or something, but it was fine. The second bedroom had two single beds in it, which meant that if Emma and Dave came to stay, Florawould have to give them her bed.
But it was very pretty, in a quaint, cottagey way.There was a fine layerof dust over everything, but basically it was clean and Flora felt she could be verycomfortable there, onceshe'd got used to it being the only house for miles. And downstairs, there was a corkscrew.Flora checked this while Charles was lugging her case up the stairs. And later, when everything was unpacked, Charles said, 'Oh. There's something I've forgotten.’
He stalked back to the car stiff with irritationand came back witha bottle wearing a plastic sleeve, to chill it. 'Annabelle sent this. She feels guilty aboutyour car, I suppose.'
‘That's really kind of her!' And so unexpected, she added silently. 'Shall weopen it?’
He shrugged. 'If you like. I can only have oneglass, though.'
‘I'll find some glasses,' said Flora,thinking that perhaps this was herlast chance to get him to lighten up alittle. She could have another glass on her own, later, and really relax.
The glasses were very dusty and didn't match.Hastily she washed themand dried them on one of Annabelle's clean tea towels.
‘Shall I open it for you?'
‘No, thank you,' said Flora, seeinghim twitch with the desire to snatchthe bottle of fizz out of her hand and open it himself.
‘What will you do with the rest of thebottle?' Even watching her pourseemed to be agony for him, and she concentratedvery hard on not over-filling the glasses.
‘Puta spoon in the neck and drink it over the next few days.' She didn't think it would take her morethan two days,actually, but didn't want him to get the impression she had a drink problem as well as everythingelse that was wrongwith her. 'Here's to us, all like us, gae few and we're all dead,' she said.
Charles frowned and picked up his glass and sipped.
Casting desperately around for something for them to talk about, Flora said, 'So, you and Justin wereat school together?'
‘Yes.'
‘And you've kept in touch all these years?'
‘Well, no. He found out where I lived through Friends Reunited, and we met up.'
‘Oh.' Flora nearlyfound herself asking, 'And what didyou talk about?' just to keep the conversation going, but it really was none of her business. 'OK,here's another toast,' she saidinstead. 'To you and Annabelle getting the most out of my visit that youpossibly can.’
Charles frowned at her. 'I think I've made it clearthat we'd get on far better without you,Flora.'
‘And I think I've made it clear thatyou're not chasing me back to Londonjust yet.' She smiled brightly. 'You mustcome round for dinner as soon as I'm settled. Oh.' She lowered herglass. 'There's no table.’
They both regarded the four chairs, which sat, as ifplaced, round a table-sized space.
‘Damn,' said Charles. 'I'd forgotten. We sold it.’
Flora laughed, and Charles looked at her, confused. Not having a dining table was not something to betaken lightly, obviously.
‘It'll have to be a barbecue then,when you come for dinner withAnnabelle,' said Flora, hating the idea. Barbecues were very informal things, not suited to the likes ofCharles and Annabelle. Paraffin-flavoured sausagesand burnt lamb chops were only fun with people you could relax with.
Charles possibly hated the idea of a barbecue too.'It's all right, I'll bring you anothertable. Now, is there anything else you're likely to need?’
Flora was tempted to ask for champagne flutes, an ice bucket and a silver salver, but knew he'd justfrown and not realiseshe was joking. 'I don't suppose there's a telephone?' she said instead.
‘It's a holiday cottage,' he said, for what seemed the fifteenth time. 'Andyou've got a mobile.'
‘I'll just see if I'vegot reception.'
