God Save the Queen! (22 page)

Flora didn’t have a bowl, but she did unearth a battered saucepan from the back of one of the kitchen cupboards, and while she filled it with water and set it down on the tile floor for Nolly to splash his face in, she thought about her mother, something she had trained herself not to do. Had she been terribly unhappy when she died, and was it fair for her mother to have extracted that promise from Reggie?
Oh, why didn’t I ask Grandpa more about her when there was time? Poor Mummy!
Flora felt the tears lining her lashes.
How can I even think about blaming her for any of this? She just wanted to protect me, and what is fondest can’t always be wise. Then again, maybe she was right.
Flora knew a moment of horror at the thought of her own father taking her away from Grandpa.

“Oh, you stupid girl!” she said out loud. “Instead of whimpering like a spoilt baby, you should be thanking your lucky stars for your wonderful, carefree childhood. No one ever had more in the way of love.”

Flora went back into the empty shop, her mind a picture book of memories.
I didn’t just have Grandpa,
she thought.
For a little while I had dear Mrs. Bellows to coddle me and tell me bedtime stories when he couldn’t because Sir Henry had people for dinner. Those lovely stories about the Queen. Mrs. Bellows always made her seem so real
—
so that I understood, even though I was still a bit jealous when I was little, why Grandpa believed the sun rose and set on Her Majesty. And there was Sir Henry ... He was never anything but kind, giving me toffees and encouraging me to make his home my castle. And I mustn’t forget old Miss Doffit coming for visits and following me up to the trunk room, as eager as the child I was to dress up and pretend to be a duchess in crushed velvet cloaks and feather boas.

“It was wrong of me,” Flora stood and talked to
Nolly whose mustache was still dripping with water, “it was very wrong to blame Lady Gossinger because things changed after she came. After all, I couldn’t expect to go romping through the house, sucking on toffees, my whole life long. If she never liked me much it was because I brought that on myself ...”

She didn’t get to finish cutting herself down to size because the shop door opened and Vivian walked in carrying a paper carrier bag. “What have you been doing?” he asked. “Deciding where you’re going to put the shelves and what to put on them when you go into business?”

“No, I did a lot of soul-searching while you were gone. And I’ve decided that it’s not the end of the world to find out I have a father who’s been on the wrong side of the law. Maybe I’ll like him, if he does show up, maybe not, but either way it won’t matter all that much, because he didn’t bring me up.”

“And he can’t change anything about who you are.”

“Only to people on the outside, but there’s nothing I can do about that, is there? So why waste time even thinking about it, when Nolly must be starving. I don’t suppose you thought to buy a bowl? The old saucepan I found is rather disgusting.”

“I thought of everything.” Vivian was already unloading his purchases on the shop counter. “Three different tins of gourmet doggy chow, a tin opener, biscuits, a ball, some rawhide chews, and even a bottle of canine vitamins.”

“You’re marvelous. How much do I owe you?”

“Another night’s lodging. The sad truth, Flora, is that I’m not happy in my digs....”

“You’re talking rubbish again. You’ve a bee in your bonnet that I shouldn’t be alone. I expect you’re thinking that my father might turn up here in the middle of the night.”

“We only have Snuffy’s word for it that you even
have a father.” Vivian had been dwelling on this point during the better part of the drive back from his shopping expedition.

“But why would he make up such a story?”

“That’s the question.” Vivian got busy with the tin opener. “But I intend to be here tomorrow to help size up Reggie. Here, Nolly,” he held out the bowl and the little dog gave the red ball a last look as if daring it to move while his back was turned before scampering toward his dinner.

“Wait a minute.” Flora took the bowl out of Vivian’s hands. “I think we should break some biscuits on top.”

“Why? You want to make it into shepherd’s pie?”

“No, silly, because I’ve seen people—the real doggy sort, you know, breeders and show types—do that on television shows where they explain how to raise champions.”

“I’m not sure Nolly has that sort of future.”

“No, I don’t suppose he does.” Flora laughed and put the bowl down. “But perhaps I can teach him to say grace.”

“Some other time.” Vivian took hold of her hand. “You haven’t been upstairs yet, have you?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Because, and don’t drag your feet or I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you up to the flat, I want you to tell me how you plan to decorate the place.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be doing much of that if I go ahead with the shop—which reminds me,” Flora dodged around him and ran ahead up the stairs, “I should ring up her Ladyship tonight from the call box on the corner, before I chicken out. You don’t think it’s too late, do you? That’s one thing I will have to splurge on, a clock for the ...”

“What’s the matter?” Vivian came up behind her as she stood transfixed in the sitting room doorway.

“I don’t believe it!”

“Believe what?”

“The clock! The one Grandpa and I had in our sitting room at Gossinger, it’s here on the mantelpiece, and ...” she crossed the floor in a daze, “here’s his fireside chair, the sofa, the bookcases and corner cupboard, and that’s our drop-leaf table under the window! I don’t understand ... how did it all get here?”

“There’s more as you will see when you check the bedrooms. I rang up Uncle Henry late last night after you were in bed and he found a couple of chaps to drive everything up here today. This morning while you were still asleep I had a spare key to the shop made and left it with Mrs. Smith, and she agreed to be here to let the men in at the appointed time. I know you, you’re going to accuse me of being an awful busybody, Flora ...”

“Oh, no, I’m not!” She turned to him, eyes blinded with tears. “You’ve given me a big piece of my life back and I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough.”

“You could agree,” said Vivian, smiling at her, “to let me spend the night in the newly furnished spare bedroom.”

“What’s wrong, m’dear? You’re looking frightfully glum!” Sir Henry Gossinger laid aside his sporting periodical in an attempt to give his wife her rightful share of his attention. “Was half asleep when the new housekeeper—still forget her name—came into the room and said you were wanted on the phone. Not bad news, I hope.”

“I’m not sure what to call it.” Lady Gossinger plumped down on a chair and stared into space.

“Ah, I’ve got it!” Her husband brightened. “Mrs. Frost, that’s the woman’s name. Mumbly sort of person, can never understand the half of what she’s saying. But I imagine some people could say the same about me. Does her best, I suppose; trouble is, the place will never be the same without Hutchins. End of an era and all that.” Sir Henry’s face settled into unhappy lines. “Miss
the chap more every day. Wonder how little Flora is getting along?”

“It was her on the telephone.”

“What’s that?” Sir Henry sat more upright in his chair. “Rang to say the furniture turned up all right, did she? Must say that was damned decent of Vivian to see to all that. Should have thought of it m’self.”

“Just for once, Henry, would you stop talking to yourself and answering all your own questions?” Her Ladyship thumped a fist on her tweed-skirted knee.

“Sorry, m’dear. Unfeeling sort of chap you married, deserve better, you know.” Sir Henry could not have been more contrite. It was plain from looking at her, at the shadows under her eyes and the new hollows in her cheeks that matched the tone of her voice, that Mabel wasn’t herself. Hadn’t been since Hutchins’s death.

“Should have realized you were feeling low,” he said. “On top of everything else, Tipp had to take himself off. Couldn’t help his cousin or whoever it was being taken ill, but damn inconsiderate not to have got in touch to let us know when he’s likely to be back. I’ll get you a glass of sherry, while you tell me everything little Flora had to say.”

“I wish you would stop calling her that!” Lady Gossinger took refuge in anger because it seemed the safest emotion these days. “It makes you sound so fatuous.”

“You’re right, m’dear, she’s a grown woman.”

“And a wily one at that! It turns out she wasn’t satisfied with getting the flat rent-free for a year. Now she wants to reopen the shop, selling secondhand goods. And believe it or not, she’s somehow managed to get young Vivian into her pocket. He was right there when she was on the phone. I could hear him in the background before he took the receiver and explained to me what a wonderful idea this is.”

“Isn’t it?” Sir Henry stood at the drinks cabinet with the sherry decanter in his hands. “Seems to me Flora
would do a bang-up job of running a place like that. Always thought she was wasted in our gift shop here. Hutchins worried about that, told me so. Wanted her to spread her wings. But she had it in her head it wasn’t right to leave him.”

“She’s certainly making up for lost time!” Her Ladyship slumped back in her chair, which like most of the furniture was not designed for maximum comfort. “Oh, do give me that sherry, Henry, and don’t pay any attention to my snarls. I don’t mean to be such an ogre.”

This was true; she was only making matters worse giving vent to her resentment of Flora. After all, Henry hadn’t said anything recently about changing his will. He’d probably decided there was no rush, but she had not a doubt in the world that he still intended to leave Gossinger Hall to the girl. But that concern had to go on the back burner. What haunted her day and night—to the point that she couldn’t eat or sleep)—was the fear that what she had done would come to light. Henry might be a softie in many ways; he had never displayed the least suspicion that she might have stuffed Hutchins down the garderobe. But there were some things he would never forgive. And her attempt to undo a potentially fatal mistake had met with dismal failure. Her Ladyship gripped the arms of her chair and thought about hitting a certain person over the head with a heavy object.

“Here’s your sherry, m’dear.” Sir Henry placed the glass in her hand and hovered at her elbow. It occurred to him that she might have been wearing the same clothes for close on a fortnight, and her hair wasn’t right, it stuck out in places where it shouldn’t have and lay flat where it should have sat up. Sir Henry experienced an unusual urge to stoop and kiss his wife’s cheek. Instead, he patted her shoulder before picking up his own glass of sherry and resuming his seat.

“This hits the spot.” Lady Gossinger swallowed half
her sherry. “Nothing better than this, is there? The two of us sitting talking things out. You’re right, old bean, as you almost always are. There’s no sense leaving that shop sitting empty, and it would be impossible to let it with Florie living upstairs and having to use the kitchen at the back to cook her meals. Much better to give her a chance to make a go of things.”

“My thinking exactly, m’dear. The girl needs something, a challenge if you like, to help get her over Hutchins’s death. Dreadful blow,” Sir Henry shook his head, “still can’t get over his being right as rain one minute and gone the next. Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

“Certainly does.” Her Ladyship finished off her sherry. “You’ve no idea, Henry, how I wish I hadn’t created a stink about your leaving Gossinger Hall to your butler. Somehow what happened seems like retribution.”

Sir Henry could not quite view it that way, given the fact it was Hutchins who had paid the penalty, but he endeavored to make reassuring noises.

“And then I have to go taking it out on Flora.” Lady Gossinger got up and poured herself another sherry without spilling more than a few drops. “Honestly, I must be the most awful woman alive. Deserve to be put in the stocks. But the truth is, Henry, I’ve always been more than a little jealous of her.”

“I say,” Sir Henry looked startled, “you’re not suggesting, old dear, that I ever had—don’t quite know how to put it—an eye for the girl?”

“No, of course not.” Her Ladyship sat back down. “What you had was a tendency to treat her like a daughter. And that was a thorn in my flesh, seeing that there was never any hope of us having children.”

“Bound to be fond of her—she grew up here from three years of age. Always about the place, as merry a little thing as God ever made. Never could get anything
out of Hutchins about her father, but I assure you, Mabel, I never meant to hurt you by making too much of Flora.”

His wife sighed. “I know you didn’t. You’re much too good to have realized I was harboring some unkind feelings. But enough of that. I told Flora I would talk to you about the shop, so why don’t you go and give her a ring? Tell her we’re both happy about her plans and we won’t charge her anything until she gets on her feet.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Positive. She’ll enjoy hearing from you, and while you’re on the phone I’ll just close my eyes.” Lady Gossinger suited action to words. “I’ve no idea why I’ve been feeling so exhausted lately, but there it is. I’m getting old, I suppose.”

“Absolute bosh, m’dear, you’re at your peak; wouldn’t mind betting you’ll live to be ninety!”

But as Sir Henry padded from the room he recalled thinking the same thing once about Hutchins. One never knew, did one?

Instead of being glad of the moment alone so she could chew on her thoughts, Lady Gossinger felt a twinge of panic when the door shut softly behind her husband. The walls seemed to close in to the point of suffocation and she felt an unreasonable urge to jump up and open the windows.
I
wonder,
she thought,
if I’m losing my mind? Today when I was talking to Mrs. Frost I was convinced she’d been sent here as the new housekeeper to keep an eye on me, because the police don’t really believe Hutchins died a natural death....
Lady Gossinger was fighting down a fresh wave of paranoia when the door opened as quietly as it had just closed and Miss Sophie Doffit came into the room.