They left the door open while Flora ate the stillwarm combination oftasty mince and mashed potato straight out of the Pyrex dish. Imelda could beseen, picking her way through thegrasses, sniffing occasionally. When Florawas full, she put her plate down on the floor and called her cat.
Imelda, possibly hearing the sound of the dishlanding on the floor,looked up and ambled back towards the house, her pregnant body almost triangular.
‘That must seem awfully rude, but shealways comes if she thinks I've put something down for her.’
He chuckled. 'That's all right. She might as wellhave what's left now. She's expecting,after all.'
‘Are you sure it's all right to leave her?'
‘I'm sure she'll be fine. Cats mostlylike to get on and have their kittenson their own, anyway. Have you made anice bed for her? They like cupboards, dark places. What about under thestairs?’
Together they made a space for Imelda, having first moved aside a pair of wellington boots. Then Flora fetched a pillow from the spare bed, checkingfirst that it wasn't full of goose-down and therefore expensive to replace. A cardigan, that until that moment Florahadn't considered old, went on top tomake it smell familiar. And when Flora considered it comfortable enough for hercat she called her.
Obligingly, Imelda came to inspect her maternitysuite, sniffing andthen stepping on to it, her paws still dainty and discriminating in spite of her swollen body.After she'd circled,kneaded, settled and resettled for a while, Flora closed the door a little, to see if Imeldawanted it dark. She looked up at Flora and Geoffrey as if to say, 'That's fine, now run away and play.’
Feeling dismissed, Flora said, 'I expect the bootsmade her feel athome. She loved my shoe cupboard when I first brought her home, which was why I called her Imelda.’
Geoffrey chuckled in a fatherly way, and Florarealised that it was awhile since she'd seen her own father, whom she loved dearly. Perhaps that was why she was drawnto Geoffrey.
‘Now you go and get.something warm to put on,' he said.'It's quite chilly in the church, winter or summer.’
Flora bit her lip. It had been so hot in Londoneveryone flopped about,sweating. It seemed even the weather wasdifferent in the country. 'The choir seems to start awfully early,' said Flora.Was going a huge mistake? Perhapsshe should light a fire to keep the wolves away.
‘Well,by the time we've got back to town, and you've popped in and said hello to Edie, it'll be time. Westart at seven-thirty'
‘Right,' said Flora, wondering what on earth she'd let herself in for.
*
Edie, Geoffrey's wife, insisted on lending Flora afleece, not consideringher divinely pretty cardigan sufficient protection against the cold of St Stephen's.
‘You could freeze to death in that church, even in high summer. Don't worry about what you look like. Itwon't matter inthere.' Edie smiled and patted Flora in a way that made Flora wonder if they had grandchildren. They'd be perfect grandparents: indulgent, wise,caring. 'Is your little cat all right?’
Flora nodded. 'We made her a place under the stairs.She probably won't have herkittens for days, but she's soenormous, and you can feel the babies moving about.'
‘Well,you let me know as soon as they're born and I'll get Geoffrey to bring me along to see them.And now you two hadbetter get along to choir. It would be nice if Flora could meet one or two ofthe others before you start.’
Fending off her ministrations and injunctions withfond good humour, Geoffrey ushered Flora back into the car.
‘Whydoesn't Edie come to choir?' Flora asked.
‘Tone deaf. Besides,she usually goes to the pub with herfriend on choir nights. Now belt up.' He glanced at his watch. 'We've got time to have a little tourround the town before we go. I canshow you what's what.’
The town was a mixture of the stately old and the garish new. There was a row of town houses, one of which was occupied by Stanza and Stanza. Opposite was an ancient stone building which consisted ofpillars that supported a small buildingabove.
‘That's the old butter market. Beenin use since the thirteenth century.There's a very good fish stall here on Fridays.’
On the other side of the butter market was another row of shops, which were made up of two charityshops, an off licence,an Indian take-away - which must have ironmonger's.
‘Fred, he's one of the basses, ownsthat shop. He's very helpful if youneed anything for the house. He sells everything but he won't let you go homewith the wrong thing, if you knowwhat I mean. Down there's the abbey.’
Flora squinted down the road and caught sight of a pale stone building and a couple of flyingbuttresses. 'I'd love to see it properly.'
‘We'll take you. We're all very proudof our abbey. It has a very nice tea shop, too.’
There was a much smaller church at the end of the street. 'Is that where we practise?'
‘No. We sing there sometimes, andseveral of the choir worship there.There's a cleaning rota several of them are on, but I think it's just an excuse to go to the pub afterwards.
‘That's the pretty bit over, but thereare some useful shops down there.'He indicated a side street. 'A chemist, newsagent, optician, things like that. There's everything youneed here,' he finished proudly.
Flora hadn't spotted anywhere you might possibly buy clothes apart from the charity shops, of whichthere seemed to beseveral more dotted about, but she didn't say anything. She didn't actually need clothes,after all, she just likedbuying them. It was a pretty town if very quiet-seeming to city-bred Flora.
‘Now, if you've seen enough we'll geton. St Stephen's isn't far but Ilike to be there early to get a parking space.’
Flora couldn't help feeling extremely nervous as Geoffrey ushered her up the aisle to the group of people standing by the piano. She was perfectly happy togo to parties by herself, to meetpeople in wine bars or pubs, but thislittle country church was daunting.
Geoffrey led her to a tall man with a commanding presence and a surprisingly shy smile. 'This isFlora, James. I hope you don't mind me bringing her along. She's new to
