God Save the Queen! (27 page)

“He’s gone to look after a cousin who’s ill.”

“Well, that’s a turn-up for the book.” Mrs. Much put away her hanky. “I’m sure he told me he didn’t have a soul in the world to call his own, but then again men are inclined to play on your sympathy when you’re a single woman. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t going a bit soft in the head. I remember a day, afternoon it was, when he did more talking than usual and looking back, I’m sure it was all a pack of nonsense.”

“I do hope he’s all right.” Flora was really very glad when Nolly, who had not left his red ball to welcome Mrs. Much, came into the room and settled cozily down on the hearth rug.

“More important, dear, are
you
all right?”

“I’m settling in here and I have plans to open the shop downstairs. Lady Gossinger,” it was a little difficult to say the name, “has said I can have it, which was very kind of her.”

“And what is it you’re going to sell?”

“Secondhand stuff at first, but eventually I would like to specialize in silver.”

“Now you’ve gone and reminded me,” said Mrs. Much. “I was hoping you might have some of your grandfather’s polish with you. Because as you well know there’s nothing to touch it on the supermarket shelves.”

“Of course I can let you have some. I’ve quite a few bottles of it on the window ledge in my bedroom.”

“Could you let me have two, dear?”

“I’ll be right back with them.”

“Thanks ever so.” Mrs. Much reached into her handbag when Flora returned with a bottle of polish in each hand. “How much is it I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, I don’t like to take them for free.”

“You can pay me by telling people that nothing has ever cleaned silver like it and then send them here to
buy some because I will be making up more from Grandpa’s instructions and selling it in the shop.”

“Well, that is good to know.”

“And I’ve got even bigger plans than that.” Flora sat back down and patted her skirt for Nolly to come and sit by her. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Mrs. Much: I wrote a letter to the Queen asking if she would consider granting Gossinger Silver Polish the Royal Warrant. So far I haven’t heard anything, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed.”

“Well, that does give me an idea.”

“What do you mean?”

“That I’ll take a bottle of the polish into work with me when I start my shift this afternoon.”

“To Buckingham Palace?” Flora experienced a spurt of excitement. “But I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble, not after that bother with the blue toilet water.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be like that! I’ll give one of these bottles to my cousin, the one that got me the job—Glynis is her name—and she works on some of the silver. Just leave it to me, Flora. And who knows—I could end up getting a rise!”

“If you’re really sure ...”

“Positive, and I’ll be back in touch to let you know how things go. Well, dear, I’d better be off if I don’t intend to ruin things by being late for work. Let me know if you hear from Mr. Tipp. Poor old soul. Perhaps it would do him good when he gets back to come up to London for the day and have me show him the sights.” Mrs. Much continued to chatter as they went downstairs, wanting to know what Flora had seen so far of the big city and offering ample suggestions.

“John Lewis has a lovely soft furnishings department,” she was saying when somebody banged on the shop door. Flora had a moment of panic mingled with hope, but of course Vivian would never thump on the
door like that. And she opened it up to see Boris Smith looking up at her.

“Gran made me come.” His eyes didn’t quite meet hers. “She said if I was having another day off school I should come round and ask if there’s anything you need doing.” His freckles were spotlighted by the sunshine that slanted at a sharp angle off the rooftops.
I’m going to write to that teacher,
Flora thought,
because even if I don’t believe Lady Gossinger had a hand in Grandpa’s death, I have to find out if this boy knows something about what happened in the garderobe.

“Hello, Boris,” she told him. “This is a friend of mine. Her name’s Mrs. Much.”

“How nice.” The response was made with blatant lack of enthusiasm.

“Mrs. Much has just promised to do something wonderful for me. She’s going to take a bottle of my grandfather’s silver polish into work this afternoon.”

“And where’s work?”

“Buckingham Palace.”

“Is it really?” Boris perked up.

“Do I look like somebody that tells lies?” Mrs. Much gave Flora a peck on the cheek before walking away to catch her bus.

Boris watched her for a minute before turning back to Flora. “That’s what my gran says, and she does, you know, tell lies.”

“That’s not nice of you to say.”

“Even if it’s true?”

“Then you need to talk to her.” Flora suddenly wished she were a great deal older, with a much better understanding of children. “Do you want to come in?” she asked.

“No,” Boris kicked one foot against the other, “I’ve got to go.”

“We could talk.”

“Thanks all the same.” Boris was already moving
away, sliding his feet along the pavement. “I’ve just remembered there’s something I have to do. Catch you later.”

Flora was about to go back inside when she saw Mr. Banda Singhh talking to a delivery man outside his shop, and all at once, as if a torch light had flicked on inside her head, she remembered Mr. Singhh talking about his wife Emel and saying that she had worked with Edna Smith on the church bazaar
.
Dodging inside for the key and assuring Nolly that she wouldn’t be a moment, Flora stepped back out into the street and hurried down to Mr. Singhh’s place of business. The delivery van was no longer parked outside. When she pushed open the door of the fish-and-chip shop, she was met by the pungent smell of smoking hot oil. She found a woman with graying black hair drawn back low on her neck standing behind the counter.

“Good morning,” the woman said. “First batch of chips all ready to come out of the basket, and we have some nice skate today.”

“Sounds delicious!” Flora smiled at her. “But I really came in for a chat. Mr. Singhh was kind enough to come round the day before last, and—

“So,” the woman wiped her hands on her white overall before extending her right one across the counter, “you are the young lady from the empty shop! Banda, he was so pleased to meet you. Sadly, you have just missed him. He went down to the post office. I am his wife, Emel. Do tell me, if you please, how do you like Wishbone Street so far?”

“Very much,” replied Flora. “Your husband helped convince me I will be happy here. Would you please tell him that I have decided to reopen the shop below my flat?”

“Certainly.”

“He mentioned that you had worked with Edna Smith on the church bazaar.”

“Banda,” his wife’s face lit in a smile that showed her beautiful, even teeth, “he is a man who pays attention to little things; there is not much that he does not remember.”

“The reason I bring it up,” Flora hoped she could keep the story short without making herself sound like the most awful busybody, “is that yesterday a friend of mine and I went to tea at Mrs. Smith’s, and she mentioned giving a tea strainer to the bazaar
,
which it turns out—"

“Your friend, he was here not half an hour ago!” Seeing Flora’s astonished face, Emel Singhh added quickly, “It must have been him because he, too, said he had been to Mrs. Smith’s yesterday. And when he, just like you, asked about the tea strainer I was able to tell him that I was the one who sold it, to a woman I know quite well. She lives quite close by. That is what I told him. Look, that is him,” Emel pointed to the window. “No, you have missed him. He is a fast walker. But go now and catch up with him.”

Flora was out the door before Mrs. Singhh had finished speaking. Which way? She hated to lose a fraction of a second turning her head the wrong way. But there was no need to worry. She saw him immediately, no more than a few yards to her right and without thinking, she called out: “Vivian!”

He turned around at once. “I went looking for the tea strainer.”

“And did you find it?”

“I was on my way to show you.”

“And I was at the fish-and-chip shop.”

“Great minds think alike.” Vivian stood looking at her, the sun bringing out hints of gold in his brown hair.

“That makes for a great team,” said Flora softly, seeing everything she needed to know in his eyes. “Let’s
go inside so you can show me the tea strainer. Do you really have it?”

“In my pocket,” he assured her as he followed her into the shop. “Flora, we have to talk about last night. My thinking was that if I could bring you this,” he pulled out the small paper-wrapped package, “you might find it in your heart, to forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Flora bent down to pat Nolly and throw him his ball. “I got myself sorted out this morning and I’m glad you didn’t talk to the police about Lady Gossinger, because I don’t believe she did anything more than possibly smash a few plates after Sir Henry told her about his plans to make that very silly change in his will.”

“Flora, I’m happy you’re no longer so upset, but—"

“I know what you’re going to say, it’s that I’m indulging in wishful thinking, but I don’t believe that for one minute. Vivian, I’m sorry for the things I said last night, including saying that I’d fallen in love with you. I only did that to make you feel more guilty, which was extremely immature of me. So you see,” she gave him her most impish grin, “you don’t need to be frightened at the prospect of being alone with me. Now, are you going to show me that tea strainer or do I have to snatch it out of your hands?”

“I want you to unwrap it.”

“You have looked at it already?”

“What do you take me for?” Vivian gave a laugh that came from a warmth of happiness he didn’t remember experiencing before. “I had to pay the woman who’d bought this big money, even though I told her it was of great
sentimental
value to my family.”

“And you have no doubt it’s the right one?”

“Take a look for yourself.”

“My hands are shaking.”

“All right, I have the paper off. Now take it.”

“Oh!” Flora stared down at the tea strainer in her hands. Someone, presumably the woman who had bought it
at the bazaar
,
had made an attempt at polishing it, but there still wasn’t much silver shining through the tarnish, which had turned it copper-colored in some places and a dull black in others. “What a beauty!”

“Both the design and the workmanship are truly exquisite, wouldn’t you say?” Vivian bent over her as if admiring a newborn baby.

“It makes me want to cry.” She brushed at her eyes.

“Just wait till we see it all shined up.”

“But we could do that right now, I’ve some of Grandpa’s polish upstairs.”

“Then go and get it.”

Flora handed him the tea strainer before racing up the stairs two at a time. She was back with a bottle in one hand and a handful of dusters flapping in the other before Vivian had finished rolling up his sleeves.

“What a good thing I thought to use these for packing up breakables,” she said as he joined her in the kitchen. “Now bear in mind I don’t possess Grandpa’s magic touch when it comes to cleaning intricate detail, but with this product,” she shook the bottle of polish vigorously, “only as severe a critic as he would notice the difference. The secret with polishing silver,” she continued as she spread out a duster on the draining board, “is a firm but loving hand.”

“I feel as though we should have a bottle of champagne on ice.” Vivian stepped back so she would not feel he was breathing down her neck.

“It
is
rather like waiting for the Sleeping Beauty to awake after the prince’s kiss.” Flora dabbed some polish on her softest duster and got busy. “Look how it’s coming up already! Stand back, because I want to see your eyes when I show you. Patience—this sort of thing can’t be rushed. Oh, I can’t tell you how many times I heard Grandpa say that! And how I wish he could be here for this moment!”

“So do I, Flora.”

“I should be feeling sad, but I can’t because I haven’t felt so close to him since he died. It’s as though he is right here in this room, watching me, saying, ‘This is what I taught you, Flora.’ “

“He taught you well,” said Vivian as Flora turned and held out her hands: the tea strainer had become a brilliant silver swan resting on the clean duster. “I’m speechless.”

“Do you think Her Majesty will be pleased?”

“Before we rush to ring up Buckingham Palace, I’d love to find out where it was made and the name of the silversmith. That way we could send it along with full credentials.”

“That would be wonderful,” said Flora. “Not that there’s any doubt in our minds that it was the one Queen Charlotte brought to Gossinger, but it would be very nice to prove it. Oh, bother! Someone’s at the door.” She put the tea strainer gently back down on the draining board in the nest of dusters.

Vivian grimaced. “I hope it’s not Cousin Sophie again. She spent the night at my place, and I was hoping she would stay put until I got back. But I did forget to tie her down.”

“Well, she’s bound to be pleased at the missing object’s safe return.”

But Flora opened the door to find not Cousin Sophie but her father, otherwise known as Reggie, standing outside.

“I say.” He stepped nimbly inside and flashed his gap-toothed grin. “Hate to be a blithering nuisance but I was wondering if by some confounded chance I left my wallet here yesterday. Wouldn’t you know, it had my last twenty pounds in it.”

“You’re fibbing, Reggie,” said Flora, to which Nolly added agreement by thumping his tail.

“Smashing!” Reggie’s smile stretched wider. “Admire a woman who sees right through me. Just thought I’d take a crack at it, a bit short of the ready, you see, but I’ll be toddling along.”

“Don’t rush off,” said Vivian. “You happen to have turned up at a rather opportune moment. I was just thinking,” he said, looking at Flora, “about something our friend Snuffy said the other night.”