Page 15 of The House at Hope Corner
‘I’m really sorry, I lost track of time.’ She gave an apologetic smile. ‘Got stuck into making one of my prints and…’ She trailed off as she caught the look on his face. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘You look a bit pale.’
Fraser swallowed. ‘I came in for my breakfast,’ he said. ‘And I’m bloody starving… What I need is something to eat.’
Flora flashed a helpless look at Ned, praying for him to come to her rescue.
‘Here, Dad, have one of these to tide you over,’ he said, pulling the biscuit tin from the side and handing it over. He turned back to Flora. ‘We’ve had a really busy morning,’ he added. ‘Worse than usual. A line of fencing got broken somehow in the night and we’ve had to replace it. Dad’s been hammering in the poles for the last hour.’
It was as much of an apology as Ned could get away with. Fraser wasn’t normally this short, but it still didn’t make Flora feel any better.
‘I could make beans on toast,’ she said, thinking on her feet. ‘That wouldn’t take long.’ She bit her lip waiting for a response. ‘And it’s very good for you.’ She didn’t know what else to say. There was clearly no room for any alteration to the usual dining arrangements.
There was a scant nod and she got to work, hacking off two thick slices of bread from yesterday’s loaf. She eyed the bowl that was resting on the shelf above the Aga. That was something else she had forgotten too. The dough she had managed to make earlier was still in the bowl where she had left it to rise. And it well and truly had. She looked away; she would have to fix it later.
Eventually, both Ned and Fraser had plates of food in front of them as well as a big mug of tea each. It was the best she could do under the circumstances but the kitchen was filled with a definite air of dissatisfaction and it lay heavy on her shoulders. It was ironic that, given the choice, Flora would much prefer to serve a breakfast like this than their usual fare. Cooking meat did not come at all naturally to her and the sight of bacon, sausages and black pudding swimming in fat every morning still turned her stomach.
Fraser ate fast and steadily as usual, quickly demolishing the lake of beans and helping himself to extra slices of toast. He made no further comment and it was left to Ned to cover the awkward gaps in conversation. She was sure he would have been genuinely interested in what she had been doing during the morning, but his embarrassment at his father’s grumpy mood made his comments sound stilted, like polite small talk. It didn’t take long for them both to fall silent.
‘Would you like more tea, Fraser?’ asked Flora, as he drained his mug. There was a pained expression on his face.
He belched, holding a hand against his mouth, before nodding.
‘Aye, got something a bit stuck, I reckon.’
Flora dutifully poured another mugful which quickly went the same way as the first. She flicked a glance at Ned but he was busy finishing his own food.
He had hardly put his knife and fork together on the plate before Fraser got to his feet, motioning for Ned to do the same. ‘Come on, lad,’ he grumbled. ‘We haven’t the time to be sitting here.’
Ned pulled a face. ‘I know, Dad, but at least let your food go down, eh?’
Fraser was rubbing the centre of his chest.
‘Got bloody heartburn now,’ he said. ‘No offence, lass,’ he added, ‘but I don’t get heartburn from sausages and bacon. I can’t be doing with all this bread.’
Flora dipped her head. ‘I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.’
Fraser looked across at Ned. ‘Now don’t go thinking I’m being unkind by saying this, but I’m only doing so because I know that soft ’un over there won’t. We have a way of doing things that suits us, Flora. It’s lovely having you here, don’t get me wrong, and this ’un’s got a spring in his step I haven’t seen before. But don’t go changing things that have worked perfectly well in the past. It will save an awful lot of heartache if you don’t.’
And with that he lifted a hand in the kind of wave that signified the conversation was at an end and went through to the scullery where Flora could hear him pulling his boots back on.
There was an awkward pause while Flora waited for Ned to gather himself and decide what to say, but then she felt his arms go around her and his rough cheek rest against the top of her head.
‘Oh, Flora,’ he murmured. ‘What have I done to you? Bringing you here where you don’t know anyone and just expecting you to pick everything up and run with it.’ He pulled away slightly to look at her. ‘And believe it or not, in his own way my dad thinks he’s being kind, which means he likes you. What he said wasn’t meant with any ill feeling.’
There were so many conflicting emotions swirling through Flora, she didn’t know which one to settle on, so she said nothing, but nodded glumly instead. It wasn’t Ned’s fault.
She managed a weak smile. ‘Have a good rest of the morning,’ she said. ‘And I’ll see you at lunch, okay?’
Ned kissed her, releasing her arms and giving them both a brisk rub. ‘Listen, I’ve got to go, but I’ll talk to Dad so don’t you go worrying about things. And we can catch up later too, I promise.’ He tipped his finger against the end of her nose and kissed her again. ‘I love you,’ he said.
‘I love you too,’ replied Flora, holding the smile on her face. ‘See you later.’
The ticking of the clock above the Aga was suddenly loud in the room as the door closed behind Ned. She stared at it for a moment, trying to slow down the rush of emotions that were churning her stomach, and then her eyes settled on the bowl on the shelf underneath it where the dough was waiting for her. She took it down and brought it to the table, lifting the cloth that covered it and peering at the contents. Then she cleared the plates and mugs from the table in one fell swoop and stacked them by the sink. The bread wouldn’t make itself and she might as well get on with it or she’d be in even more trouble. Then of course she could attend to the washing-up and begin the preparation of the soup for lunch.
She pursed her lips. Fraser was absolutely right, of course. He’d already done a hard morning’s graft and expected to come in to the kind of breakfast he’d been provided with for umpteen years. There was no reason he could see why this should change and certainly not without any discussion or consultation. When she and Ned were married then things might be a little different, but for the moment she was effectively just a guest in their house and would do well to remember that.
She began to punch the dough, knocking back the rise as she had been shown and it wasn’t until something dripped onto the back of her hand that she realised she was crying.
Chapter Six
