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Nine
‘Idon’tsupposeyourauction house sells flowers, does it? Or that you know anyone who does?’
‘Good afternoon to you too, Grace,’ Griff said, getting up from the armchair in which he’d been lounging, reading a book by the fire in the plush sitting room at Betancourt. ‘What was the question? I was engrossed in my book and didn’t hear it when you came in.’ He glanced over her shoulder towards the Great Hall. ‘Who let you in? I didn’t hear the bell either.’
‘Tabby. And I didn’t ring it. She spotted me walking down the drive and opened the door before I reached it. I need more flowers. White poinsettias to be precise. Plants, not cut stems. I’ve tried everywhere in Folkestone and I’ve rung around to all our usual contacts. I can have red coming out of my ears, but white? No.’
‘And I’m sure they would look very attractive,’ he said, grinning. ‘White poinsettias. Plants not stems. I’ll make some calls. How many are you after? And is there a size or dimension?’
‘Do you think you might be able to get some? Seriously? Because I was half joking. Or maybe not. I’m desperate. My only other option is to go to the New Covent Garden flower market in London. It’s not in Covent Garden, it’s in Nine Elms, but that’s irrelevant. I can’t afford the time. And they might not have them. It’s not a guarantee. The traffic’s horrendous at this time of year. At any time of year in fact. Not to mention the weather. And it means an early start. Like, leaving here before three a.m. to get there for four. Or there’s Columbia Road. That’s a thrill if you haven’t been to Bethnal Green before. But that’s only on a Sunday and we have just the one left really because there’s no way I can leave this to the last Sunday before Christmas.’
‘I’d like to say I’m following this conversation but I’m really not. However, I do know a man who knows a man who can usually get me anything in the flower department. I’ve often used his services and he’s never let me down.’
Grace narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What have you often needed flowers for? Let me guess. To impress a woman?’
He grinned sheepishly. ‘I wouldn’t use the word impress. But yes, I’ve been known to give the odd gift of some rather spectacular blooms from time to time.’
‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’
‘I believe, as I may be able to assist you in this dilemma, that sarcasm might not be your wisest choice.’ He sounded serious but the grin belied his words.
‘And I believe, as this is actuallyyourdilemma, not mine, being a smart-arse isn’tyourwisest choice.’
‘Point taken. I’ll make the calls.’
‘Thank you. I’ll text you the pot sizes I’m after.’
‘You want pots too?’
‘That’s how plants are sized. Usually. And they come in pots. Unless your man who knows a man, digs them out of the earth.’
‘Ah. They’ll come with pots.’
‘And if, by any chance those pots could be either silver, white or green, that would help immensely.’
‘Perhaps you should give me a list of your requirements.’
‘I’ll text you.’
‘Will you be here all day tomorrow?’
‘I can be. I like to get out for some fresh air every day, but if you need me here, then I’ll be here.’
‘I’ve got an artist coming here tomorrow after nine-ish. I just want to make sure that someone other than you know who is here with her.’
‘An artist? Are we having portraits painted?’
‘No. We’re having a back drop.’
‘A back drop? Like one finds on a stage? Or a photoshoot?’
‘Yes. I’m having her paint a winter wonderland scene to sit behind the trees I told you about. Don’t worry. She’s super-talented and it won’t be like a school play or anything. It’ll be a trompe l’oeil. Her name’s Hanna Shaw and she lives in–’
‘Catkin Cottage,’ he cut in. ‘I know her. Well, I know her art. I’ve got a couple of her paintings on my bedroom wall.’ He grinned suddenly and winked. ‘Wanna come up and see them?’
Grace raised her brows at him. ‘Tempting, but no.’
She didn’t say just how tempting. Or that she might like to take him up on that offer one day, if he were actually serious. Which, of course, he wasn’t.
