Before and After (26 page)

“Ah,
I see now. This is from the builders, Rudland and Berry. What would you call it Flora, your commission? Or your pay off?” Hal said in a quiet voice.

I
shrugged and smiled, “Oh, you know, the usual percentage for a job well done –“

“Well
done
?”

Hal
stared through the doorway into the ground floor rubble and chaos of the house. I followed his eyes, but really, who can say what builders will find once they start bashing around a house? I can hardly be responsible for the subsidence, rising damp and unsupported walls, can I?

“I
learned a few things about you Flora, when I was away,” Hal whispered.

“Oh,
good, so glad,” I said vaguely, ushering the courier from the house and stuffing the satisfyingly large wad of bank notes into my bodice where it bulged and crackled most becomingly. Padding with bank notes is a very
uplifting
experience, take it from me. Of course, more than a thousand in fivers is unacceptable and I would recommend a bank, but otherwise I heartily urge you to try it. Especially those amongst you who are under endowed. Far better than a padded bra – and
so
much more comforting.

I
glanced into the kitchen again, to see a frozen tableau of despair. Well, I assume it was despair, it’s hard to tell really with the Ambles.

Hal
grasped me by my arm and pulled me, none too gently it has to be said, into what had been the music room. The only clue left was a grand piano abandoned in the centre of the room swaddled in dust sheets like a baby elephant covered in tissue paper, you knew what it was by its shape, but nonetheless it was a curious sight. I wondered idly if what was left of the floor was enough to support its undoubted weight.

“Oh
yes, Flora, Mr umm, what shall we call him,
Carlton
that’s it, got rather drunk one night and said rather more than he should have.”

I
laughed aloud. Really, the thought of Hal and Lord – I mean Mr Carlton getting cosy over a bottle of port was too much to imagine. I looked up at Hal, his young face flushed with self righteous anger and importance.

How
attractive he was.

I
leant towards him and gazed up at him with wide eyed innocence. Perhaps the geisha girl outfit after all? I breathed deeply allowing myself the full aroma of his body in my nostrils. Lovely. Nothing like youth and smooth skin and virility is there? Nothing in the world.

Hal
pushed me away from him and I smiled at such impetuosity. I do so like a challenge. I moved in closer, knowing that young, hormonally affected men will only let emotions get in the way for so long. After all, a cocked gun is much more likely to go off, isn’t it?

“What
are
you doing?” Hal demanded, moving further away from me with as much dignity as he could muster.

The
door to the music room opened and Archie stood in the entrance-way. I heard Sylvia and Bella twittering in the hallway, presumably seeing out Mr Bertram or Bantam. They were assuring him that they would be packed and out of the house in an hour. Which, I have to say was a little ambitious even for me, a master of the quick pack and moonlit flit. I was about to protest that it would take at least a couple of hours for me to be ready if Bella would help me, when I heard the tone of Archie’s voice. Even I, brave and stalwart as I am wouldn’t have interrupted him. Better let him get it off his chest was my view.

“What’s
going on in here?” Archie shouted, one hand clutched to his head showing us that he had very important matters on his mind and simply mustn’t be disturbed by trivialities. “Move? Move – are you mad? It’s out of the question. Take my family away from our home? Impossible.”

I
noted that he glared at me as he spoke but I took great comfort in the fact that I was at least included in the family. How nice. Perhaps the Ritz, or even The Savoy. Although I don’t like being
quite
so close to the river – creeping damp and all of that. Still, needs must when the devil drives and we must all pull together in a crisis.

Hal
was about to speak when were all distracted by sounds of sobbing coming from the hallway. Hal and Archie moved to see what was happening and I reluctantly joined them.

The
priest and Maria had, it seemed, come a calling to tell the Ambles the news that Jack Blair, their gardener for decades, had died in hospital. Kind Bella was sniffing and holding on to Sylvia who seemed to have taken the attitude of a consoling widow.

“Oh mummy, and we never went to see him!”

“Damn
shame. Fine man.” Archie sounded very captain of the regiment, proving that even being distracted beyond his measure that manners were a thing never to be forgotten.

“Of
course we’ll be at the funeral, we’ll have tea or something afterwards, perhaps not
here
–“

“He
was a good man, a fine man, he tell me of his church and I of mine until this, this woman you have here came along, he only had a cough –“ Maria’s rising voice echoed around the hallway.

“Well,”
I said, jumping in before the lamentations reached Greek chorus level, “He
was
rather old, wasn’t he? He looked most unwell the last time I saw him. The lawn isn’t really up to the mark, is it? And I’ve spotted dandelions
and
a touch of goose grass. Probably a jolly good thing all round.”

There
was a general drawing aside of petticoats by the crowd in the hallway and for once I was actually quite glad to see Victoria the shoe woman trot up to the front door, a smile on her face, and no doubt joy in her heart. The very person to take everyone’s mind off a very inconsequential death. Just why everyone carries on so is quite beyond me. Gone to a better place and all that. So I’d heard.

I
thought I’d take this opportunity to pop upstairs and do a little packing. After all, we had to leave the house anyway, hadn’t we? Might as well be ready. Under normal circumstances I’d have my trunks sent on, but, I do like to work as part of a team and I decided that I would pack myself. I know, I know, but there you are, it’s my nature to be helpful. I tripped as softly as I could up the stairs.

I
reached the turn in the stairs that until recently had held a quite hideous Wedgwood vase on a pedestal table, but now was a catchment area for spare floorboards, when my spike heel caught in a gap in the floor. I bent down to slip my shoe off, when, with a sharp cracking sound my foot, ankle and leg seemed to disappear from view. My other leg bent accordingly, and there I was, trapped by the gaping maw of the floor. The wood clamped around my thigh like a jagged vice was uncomfortably tight, and the net skirt was a hindrance for the other leg which was now in an exceedingly painful kneeling position. I made a mental note to consume more oily fish if this was the condition that my joints were in. Perhaps kippers for breakfast at the Ritz would count? Or is it only things like sardines, which I can never digest easily, help ease the ligaments?

Shouts
of alarm alerted me to the suspected thought that my foot had indeed gone through the plaster to the hall below and was no doubt waving at them all from the ceiling. Lucky for them. At least they had something nice to look at.

Soon
the whole family, including shoe woman and the priest with attendant Slavic maiden of doom were gathered around me.

“Good
god, woman, what have you done?”

“Oh,
Flora! Does it hurt?”

“Archie
go and get someone –“

“Who?
No bloody builders around, are there –“

“Oh
Daddy, phone Fiachra, I’m sure he’d help –“

“No,
phone John Taylor –“

“Perhaps
a prayer would be –“

“Oh
yes father, let’s pray-“

“Just
get a bloody saw and I’ll saw her out.”

“Darling,
she’s not a magician’s assistant –“

“What?”

“You know, sawing the lady in half-“

“Sylvia
don’t be so bloody silly –“

“Not
in front of the vicar darling –“

This
nonsense continued for some time and I bravely bore the brunt of their prattle whilst surreptitiously wriggling my leg. Unfortunately this only had the effect of making me sink deeper into the hole. I was now thigh deep and very,
very
uncomfortable. Not to say undignified position as well. At least the voluminous black net bustle was hiding some of my flesh, but, as you know, I never wear undergarments, far too vulgar.

Gristle
and bones and
parsons
.

Eventually,
and with much encouragement from
moi
, Archie and Bella toddled off to get a saw, whilst Sylvia and Victoria, who wanted to stay with me and
comfort
me for goodness sakes, went to stand in the hallway and see if I was in fact about to fall through the ceiling. Maria was having a nicely judged case of hysterics and being given a glass of water by the priest. This left me with Hal.

“Well,
Flora, it seems you’re stuck here,” Hal said, staring at me.

“Could
be worse,” I valiantly replied whilst tugging my leg and trying to ease my aching back.

“Not
much worse,” Hal said, with a look of grim determination on his face.

If
I’d had the energy I would have pointed out to Hal that I’d been in
much
worse positions than
this
. The time with the Duchess in that musty hotel room in Vienna for instance when her husband walked in unannounced, or the time that I had been caught hand in till, so to speak, at the casino in Biarritz, when the grim faced manager had been so unsympathetic.
This
in comparison was a mere bagatelle.

Hal
started to speak, very calmly but with a great deal of earnestness which, unfortunately, always has the effect of making me laugh. Well, I would have laughed but my leg was becoming very painful.

“So
Flora, where shall I start? Oh yes, first of all you tried to seduce me at that hideous man’s place, what was his name? Mr Abraham, that’s it. If only you knew what a dreadful sight you were. Hardly my type Flora, you’re
far
too old. Then, palming me off with that, that man in his yacht! Oh he told me quite a lot about you. Then that awful hotel in Brighton, not to mention the cock up with Pa and Sir George. The holiday you booked on the credit card, who was
that
for? Then there’s the house. Look at it. It’s about to fall down thanks to you. Then there’s the little matter of some property deeds that I brought back. Were you going to tell my father that you’d transferred them all into your name –“

“No,
really, that’s much too much. I was merely holding them till the time was right for Archie –“ I interrupted indignantly. Hal took no notice and continued relentlessly.

“Then
there’s the matter of my sister. I
think
you were about to marry her off to that Irish navvy and –“

“Dear
Bella will be very happy and there’s no need to be so –“

Hal
squatted on the floor and then looked me in the eyes unflinchingly. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Tell me Flora, what actually are you? Carlton spoke a load of nonsense about you, but some of it made sense. I want to hear it from you though. Come on, what
are
you?” He picked my hand up, quite roughly, I may add, and stared at it as if he could divine my ancestry by palmistry. Perhaps he didn’t see, as I did, the age spots and wrinkles on the backs of my hands. The time was very soon indeed.

I
heard the sound of people moving back up the staircase, and dragged my hand away from Hal. The last thing I wanted was a crowd.

Cardinals
and pontiffs and bonesetters and
mucus
and all things truly wicked.

“Help
me out of here and I’ll go. I’ll never see any of you again. I promise.” I spoke quickly and urgently to Hal.

He
laughed and drew away from me.

“Go
where? Do you think we’re frightened of you and your silly–“ The pounding of feet on the staircase was Victoria, puffing and panting with self importance.

“Oh
Flora, Sylvia told me about the house. Well, it’s all arranged the Ambles are going to stay with a relative in Wiltshire and you, you can come to me!” she said with girlish glee, clasping her hands to her chest in happiness.

Well,
so much for being included in the family. Oh, the treachery of men. Not to mention women. A terrible vision of me cooped up in the shoe woman’s undoubtedly dreary little flat loomed in front of me. Instead of a pleasant stay at a swanky hotel I was being rushed into a custodial sentence. Laminate flooring and a gas fire, no bubbly in the fridge and girly underwear draped over the bath. Cat dishes on the kitchen floor. Cartons of semi skimmed milk on the table. Used tea bags nestling amongst pizza boxes in the rubbish bin. No wine cellar. Frozen orange juice.
Low
fat
spread
. I shuddered. These gloomy visions nearly brought tears of self pity to my eyes. Couldn’t they see that it was wildly inappropriate? It would be like housing the late great Maria Callas in a bungalow in Bognor. Surely everyone could see that I was born to a certain amount of privilege and luxury? Never in my life had I felt so misunderstood and mistrusted. I whimpered softly and made a heroic effort to free myself.