Page 7 of The House at Hope Corner
‘Bloody fantastic in bed…’
A loud snort echoed around the room, which Flora quickly stifled. ‘Shhh,’ she whispered, thumping Ned’s arm. ‘Don’t start me off, you know what I’m like!’
‘Oh I do,’ he replied, nuzzling the side of her neck. ‘That’s what I was banking on…’
Chapter Three
Flora was out of bed like a shot the following morning. Well, not quite at four thirty like Ned was, but it was a very long time since she’d last seen six o’clock in the morning! She didn’t know how Ned did it; they hadn’t got an awful lot of sleep…
She hopped across the bedroom floor, wincing at the cold, and over to where her clothes still lay abandoned from yesterday. Grabbing a random selection, she got dressed as quickly as she could. No doubt she would be docked points for leaving their room in a mess but—
Flora Dunbar, stop right there…She stared at herself in the mirror.You are never going to fit in if you carry on like that. This is Hannah and Fraser’s home and, for the moment, whether you like it or not, you’re the newcomer and you can’t expect everything to be like it was before. Which is exactly what you hoped for, remember? Your old life wasn’t so great and you’ve always wanted to live in the country, so quit moaning and just get on with it. And while you’re at it, remember that a little tact and diplomacy wouldn’t go amiss.
She tucked her hair behind her ears and gave a stern nod at her reflection, hitched up her tights, straightened her skirt, and went downstairs.
One thing she had learned yesterday was that the kettle was always warm in the farm kitchen and, as such, could be induced to boil in pretty short order. Rule number one, always keep it filled with water. Flora took it to the sink, her eyes automatically drawn to the view outside. It was so tempting to slip outside again and lose herself for an hour or so, but she knew that wouldn’t help the situation at all, although… She glanced at her watch. Maybe there was time enough to gather some flowers for the table. There were several clumps of early narcissus growing around the side of the house, and they were so lovely and cheerful.
For the second time in as many days, the kettle was abandoned by the side of the sink as Flora was enticed into the garden. It only took a few moments to pick enough flowers to fill a vase and, spying a forsythia bush a little distance away, Flora cut some long stems of the bright yellow flowers to accompany the other blooms. She was just about to turn back towards the house when she heard her name being called, and was surprised to see Hannah coming across the garden to meet her. As she drew closer she could see that Hannah was holding a round wicker basket. To her relief she was also smiling.
‘Good morning!’ Hannah called. ‘Did you sleep well?’
Flora, who had hardly slept at all, didn’t know quite what to say. She scrutinised Hannah’s face. Was that what she was implying, or had her greeting been a simple enquiry? She decided that it was and replied accordingly, suddenly spotting what was in the basket Hannah was carrying.
‘Oh, eggs! Does that mean you have chickens?’
Hannah’s smile was warm. ‘We do, only seven now, but they’re good layers. Would you like to see them?’
Flora nodded. ‘I’ve always wanted chickens, ever since I was a little girl.’
‘But you don’t eat eggs?’
‘No… but not because I’m a vegetarian. I don’t actually like them. It’s the texture of them, I think.’ She gave an involuntary shudder.
‘So you would eat them if you liked them?’
Flora nodded.
‘But yet you don’t eat the chicken itself?’
‘No, but I like cats and dogs and I don’t eat them either!’
For a moment Flora thought that Hannah’s face was going to be pulled into a frown but then, to her relief, she burst out laughing.
‘It’s a bit like that old joke,’ she said. ‘I like children… But I couldn’t eat a whole one.’
Flora smiled, shielding her eyes from the low slanting sun. It wasn’t really like that at all, but she wasn’t about to contradict her. Hannah was trying to be friendly and, in view of her conversation with Ned last night, voicing her opinions on eating meat now would very probably lead to her packing her bags and returning to the remnants of her old life with her tail between her legs.
‘It must seem a bit odd to you, me being a vegetarian?’
Hannah regarded her for a moment. ‘I don’t know any farmers’ wives who are,’ she replied. ‘Well, cattle farmers anyway, but…’ And she shrugged.
The words ‘there’s a first time for everything’ dangled unspoken. Flora already knew from her conversations with Hannah yesterday how little she liked things to change. Instead, Flora turned the subject onto safer ground.
‘So do you feed the chickens every morning?’
‘I do,’ said Hannah. ‘Pellets and fresh water in the morning, and then grain of an afternoon. The eggs need collecting every day too. The village shop takes what I can’t use, but it varies.’ She held out the basket for inspection. ‘Today’s a full house.’ There were indeed seven pale brown eggs nestled inside.
Flora took one, holding it gently in her palm. ‘Oh, it’s still warm!’
