Cold Crumpet Farm - Part Two
by Little Dot
(If you haven't read
part one click here)
When
Flora got to the stables at half past nine the next morning she found
them apparently deserted. She walked around the stable yard, peering through
the doors until she came to the tack room. A door at the back of it was
ajar and she could here an electronic beep coming from inside.
Tiptoeing in, Flora observed
Shula leaning over her computer.
"Hello, there," Flora called.
Shula looked up "Oh," she said, "I'm sorry. I didn't see you there." By
way of an explanation she indicated the paper strewn desk: "accounts."
"Ah," Flora nodded. "I'm cousin Flora." Shula beamed a smile of recognition
at the name. "Of course. Mum said you were coming to stay." Flora looked
at Shula appraisingly. She was not an unattractive woman, but with no
make up and her hair scraped back with a band she looked plain and dowdy.
"Would you like a coffee?" Shula asked. "Yes," said Flora, "thank you."
The coffee was a fairly unprepossessing
instant, but it was better than the interminable cups of tea Flora had
had thrust upon her thus far. It also gave her a good opportunity for
a chat. Even a short conversation with Shula was enough for Flora to be
convinced that her initial judgement was correct, and moreover to be sure
that rapid intervention was vital. Flora enquired what Shula was planning
for the rest of the day. It was nearly eleven o'clock. "Well, I've got
no lessons booked, so I'd planned to catch up on these invoices," answered
Shula. "Then I've got to pick up Daniel from school, cook Alistair's supper,
and I'm on the rota to do the flowers in the church this evening."
"Shula," said Flora, "have you
ever been to a party?" "Of course," Shula answered. "There was the harvest
supper, and Daniel's last birthday..." Flora coughed politely. "Let me
put it another way," she said. "Have you ever been to a party and not
spent most of it in the kitchen, or handing 'round the vol-au-vents?"
Shula frowned, but Flora kept he eyes fixed on the woman. "Probably not."
Shula admitted eventually. Flora stood up. "Get your coat," she said.
"We're going on a little excursion."
Flora and Shula caught the 12:23
from Hollerton Junction to Paddington. Flora hailed a cab and whisked
Shula off to her favourite hairdresser: Monsieur Augustine in Knightsbridge.
Out of Shula's hearing she instructed M. Augustine to do whatever he felt
necessary to rid Shula of her frumpy, middle class image. Two hours later
Flora returned and found Shula transformed. M. Augustine had shaped her
hair into a sleek, shiny bob; chestnut and copper highlights gave its
natural colour a new richness. Shula was beaming. "It's beautiful," she
said. "We haven't finished yet," Flora was secretly delighted with Shula's
reaction. "Come along."
A ten minute taxi ride later
Flora was introducing her cousin to Frances Langton, renowned couturiere
and long-term friend. Frances looked Shula up and down. "What do you want,
specifically?" she asked. "I'm taking her to the MB club tonight," said
Flora, raising one eyebrow. "I'm sure you can find something appropriate."
"Of course. I understand perfectly." Frances gave Flora a knowing smile.
She led Shula to the back of the shop and began taking dresses from the
rails and holding them up, discarding them into the hands of her scurrying
assistant. Eventually she settled on the perfect dress. She held aside
a curtain and, handing the dress to Shula, instructed her to go in and
try it on. When Flora turned back from examining a rather lovely embroidered
silk blouse she barely recognised her cousin. Shula was sheathed in an
exquisite bias-cut satin gown of the deepest crimson. The hem skimmed
the ground exactly and the slashed neckline showed off her white shoulders.
Frances produced a pair of red satin pumps and an ivory velvet wrap which
she arranged carefully around Shula's shoulders.
They had a light supper in town
during which Flora noted that Shula made no mention of her family or of
Ambridge, then they departed for the MB Club. This was one of Flora's
favourite places to come for a night out - somewhere where you could guarantee
good music, great company, and expertly mixed cocktails. Shula, Flora
discovered, had never tried a cocktail. By the end of the evening she
had tried several, and had danced surprisingly well with quite a few good
looking young men.
They caught the last train out
of Paddington in the early hours of the morning, and the taxi driver from
Hollerton to Ambridge had never had two so well dressed and thoroughly
inebriated women in his cab.
Part Three, in which Flora turns
her attentions to Elizabeth
Part One
More parodies - from Agatha Christie
to Damon Runyon
.
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