Before and After by Laura Lockington Read Free Book Online Page B

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    Marmaduke sat by my leg pressing his warm living flesh into my own. I stroked his head and wondered if the memory of the salt beef was still lingering in his canine mind. What do dogs think about all day?
    I was brought back from a childhood enduring wish that dogs were able to read by Bella.
    “Flora, what do you think?”
    I snapped back to attention.
    “Sorry Bella, I was miles away, what was it you said?” I said smiling at the sight of her undeniably pretty yet podgy face with butter smears on her chin.
    “The house, what are we going to do to the house?” she said insistently, looking thrilled yet scared as to what Archie was going have to say about all of this.
    I paused before I answered. I heard footsteps in the hallway and guessed that it was Hal. I needed him on my side, and wondered if I could talk to him privately, but no. The door swung open and the rumpled, devastatingly attractive golden youth entered the room. I guessed that he’d had a troubled night.
    He smiled shyly at me, and self-consciously rubbed his bed tousled hair. His mother pushed the toast towards him, and his sister the marmalade.
    “Has Pa gone?” he asked.
    “Long ago darling,” Sylvia answered. “You know he likes to leave here early on a Friday.”
    I wanted to know why. Was there some arcane gathering of Zurich gnomes that met early on a Friday morning in Threadneedle Street to sort out the world’s finances? Or did Archie have a cabal with other bankers in the privacy of a steaming Turkish bath somewhere along the tree lined streets of the Gentleman’s clubs? I raised my eyebrows in a polite manner towards Sylvia, inviting her to explain to me. The moment passed however as the chiming of the front door told me that the team of decorators had arrived.
    Marmaduke dragged himself away from my side and dutifully made a noise in the hallway whilst Maria skittered past him to answer the door. Soon we were all seated in the living room.
    Hal and Bella flanked me, whilst Sylvia sat on a cherry wood chair, her hands listlessly still in her lap. She darted glances of anxiety towards the designer - a middle aged homosexual called John Taylor - which managed to convey a certain helplessness combined with the knowledge that she wasn’t worthy of all this attention. The team of dungaree clad painters lounged against the wall eyeing up their new territory.
    “This is all so sudden,” Sylvia managed to blurt out, one hand convulsively clutching her throat. “I don’t really know if –“
    “We understand,” John Taylor said soothingly, “But when Miss Tate called, we immediately sprang into action. Now then, may I suggest you have a quick peek at a few magazines and storyboards that I’ve brought with me to get a feel of what we suggest?” He guided Sylvia towards a table that he had spread his papers out on. “Delicious scent, by the way, Mitsouko? Yes, I thought so…”
    I watched entranced as John Taylor wove his deceit. I estimated that within an hour Sylvia would be his. And I was right. And he didn’t even use the eye drops, but then, I had done all the spade work.
    The team of painters were moving furniture and wrapping china and glass. John and Sylvia were sitting on the hall stairs with a colour chart on their laps looking very matey. Bella had attached herself to the youngest of the painters, a rather charming Irishman called Fiachra, which left Hal free to follow me around the ground floor. I’d moved into the music room, sweeping the silver framed photographs off the piano when he caught up with me.
    “I say Flora, isn’t this all going to cost rather a lot?”
    I smiled at him. Really, out of the mouths of babes…
    “Yes, of course. But just think of the result! A beautiful new home, albeit with a period of chaos and irritation.” I said gaily, looking with disinterest at the black and white faces peering at me from the fake art-deco frames.
    Hal looked blankly at me.
    “A pearl is an irritant within the