‘Ohyes?' Emma sounded sceptical.
‘No, really, he'sterribly nice. Older than Dad, Ems. His wife might want one of thekittens.'
‘She's had them already? My God! Thatmust have been awful! Imelda havingkittens on the boardroom floor with your cousin stuffing them with his evilgaze as they came out, one by one. You'll have to make some hideous installation with them, and enter it for the TurnerPrize.'
‘No!'screamed Flora, when she stopped laughing. 'She hasn't had them yet. You're right, it would havebeen awful. ButGeoffrey's wife might have one when they are born. Annabelle's allergic to cats, of course.'
‘Of course. Which is not remotely her fault.'
‘No. Not at all. She's gone to getstuff for this holiday cottage. I hope she remembers a corkscrew. I might go and get some supplies. You'll have to come downfor the weekend sometime. Quite soon, please!'
‘I'm a bit tied up for the nextcouple of weekends, but I promiseI'll come and see you as soon as I can.' Emma paused. 'And while I know you'll be absolutely fine, you and Imelda could always come and staywith me if you need to come back.’
Being given a get-out clause stiffened Flora'sresolve to stick it out and give country life a proper try. 'That's really sweet of you, Ems, but how would Dave feel about that? Me, a catand possibly six kittens?'
‘I'm sure he'd be happy to have you.’
Something in her friend's voice alerted Flora. 'Everything all rightbetween you two?'
‘Oh yes, we're fine,' Emma sighed. 'Infact, I must call him.'
‘I'll let you go. Oh my God! I can hear Annabelle and Imelda's loose!’
‘Which no one would ever say about you, sweetie.’
‘Oh shut up!' said Floraand disconnected.
Flora had just managed to scoop Imelda back into herbox when Annabelle came in, herarms full of a plastic container.
‘Right, I've got some basics. Sheets,pillow cases, a duvet, a couple ofcovers. How much do you cook?' she demandedbriskly. 'Or are you a takeaway person?'
‘Um -do I have much choice? Are there many takeaways in Bishopsbridge?'
‘A couple of fish and chip shops, aChinese and a Balti, which is very good, incidentally.'
‘But no sushi bars?’
Annabelle raised her eyes to heaven just for a second,which told Flora her wind-up had worked.
‘No.'
‘Then I cook. Though not much,' sheadded, feeling sorry for Annabellesuddenly. It wasn't her fault she lookedlike a horse, and if she only dressed differently, she might be veryhandsome.
‘But I don't think you'll need a LeCreuset casserole. It's unlikelyyou'll be making stews in this weather, even if you do cook.' Unaware she was the object of Flora's sympathy, Annabelle pressed on with the matter inhand. 'There are a couple ofreasonable pans. Big enough to fit a boil-in-the-bag into, anyway.’
Flora decided to call a mental truce withAnnabelle. She might be the nearest thing shehad to female company, both literally andfiguratively, and it would be muchbetter if they were friends. Besides, Flora was itching to make a Trinny-and-Susannah-type raid on Annabelle'swardrobe, and Flora would have to be onquite good terms with her in order to get near it. She was willing to bet there were pie-crust collars,jumpers with sheep and trousers with stirrups in it.
‘I'm sure whatever you've got isfine. Although a nonstick frying panwould be useful. You know how it is whenyou're tired, you just yearn for an omelette?'
‘You've got one of those,but really, you'll need a proper pan for omelettes.’
Flora shook her head. 'A non-stick one is fine. Idon't want to put you out more than I haveto.’
Annabelle smiled back and Flora felt she should do it more often. It softened her considerably and shehad very good teeth.A bit on the large side, possibly, but white and even. 'It's no trouble, really. We shouldhave got the holidaycottage sorted out ages ago. You can tell me if there'sanything hugely wrong with it, or missing.'
‘I will.'
‘There's a dear little garden. I don'tsuppose you like gardening? It would really help if you had time to clear acouple of the front beds.'
‘I'm sure I could do that for you. Ifthere's something to do it with, of course.'
‘Oh yes, I was forgetting about tools.I'll see what I can organise. Afterall, you won't have much to do here, will you?’
Flora smiled. Charles probably hadn't had the opportunity to tell her that she'd applied for, and got,the job advertised inthe paper. 'Not just yet, anyway,' she said. 'And it's such super weather at the moment. It wouldnice to be out in the fresh air.'
‘Hmm.' Annabelle crossed the room and opened the windowFlora had closed so Imelda couldn't escape out of it. 'Talkingof which - have you noticed? - there's a terrible smell of cat in here.'
‘Ah. That might beImelda's litter tray. I had to let her use it.'
‘Oh.' She looked disconcerted. 'Youknow I can't have anything to do with it, I'm afraid.'
‘Oh,' said Flora, forgetting hertruce. 'Are you pregnant?'
‘Certainly not! We're not married yet.I thought you knew that.'
‘I did, but you know how it is in thecountry.' Flora couldn't resist.'Very often men don't marry women until they've proved that they're fertile and can carry on the bloodline.'
‘You were joking, weren't you?' askedAnnabelle after a few tortured moments.
‘Yes,' Flora sighed. 'I was,' but Iwon't bother again, she addedsilently. 'Now, if you could point me in the direction of the nearest supermarket, I can go and get some supplies. Geoffrey will keep an eye on Imeldafor me.'
‘Geoffrey?Whiteread? You've met him?'
‘Yes. We were chattingearlier.'
‘Dreadful man,'Annabelle muttered. Louder she said, 'But he'll look after your cat?'
‘I think so. If you could just show mewhere to find him, I'll ask.’
Thanks to Annabelle's remarkably precise directions,Flora found the supermarketeasily. It was small, but seemedto have everything anyone could want. She was just hunting for some vegetable stock powder inamong the gravygranules when a trolley wheel banged into her toe.
‘Ow!'
‘Oh my God, I'm so sorry!’
Flora looked up at the owner of a very nice voice.He had sun-streaked hair and acraggy, well-used face. His eyeswere very blue against his tan. His shirt was open at the neck and had obviously once been expensivebut was now faded and worn to the sort of dilapidation that was highly desirable.
