6
Florence
Zeke shook his head at Florence as she entered the office. ‘I have to let you go,’ he said quietly, approaching her desk.
Florence frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re fired.’
‘What? Why?’
‘That article you wrote about the new doctor.’
Florence plopped her handbag on her chair. ‘Yes, I was going to talk to you about that. That’s why I’m here early.’
‘It’s too late. Dr Tully made the complaint.’
‘But I was going to explain. Make things right. Can’t you give me a chance? It’s not as though I’ve messed up before.’
Zeke sat on the edge of her desk, squashing her small pile of notepads sprawled there. ‘I would, but Dr Tully didn’t speak to me. He went straight to the top.’
‘But the owner is your uncle. Surely you have some clout.’
‘I do what I’m told.’
She knew that to be a lie. Zeke rarely did any work, held the title of senior editor, browsed through articles as though they were taking up his time, and pretty much left his assistant to run things.
‘Look,’ said Zeke, standing. ‘Dr Tully and my uncle are old mates from back in the day, and your article pissed him off, which, let’s face it, isn’t an easy thing to do. This is Dr Tully we’re talking about.’
‘I’ll go see him and apologise.’
‘Best leave it, Florence. The damage is done. A statement is being written as we speak and will go out first thing. That’ll clear up your mess, but it won’t save your job.’ He patted her arm, then sighed and walked away.
Florence closed her gaping mouth as she perused the office, wondering which of her ex-colleagues was in charge of the written apology.
‘This isn’t fair,’ she mumbled, packing away her things. She glanced over at Zeke’s office door. ‘You authorised the article,’ she yelled, knowing full well he could hear.
Zeke didn’t come back out, so Florence went back to quietly saying goodbye to her part-time desk.
One woman gave a small wave whilst the other three colleagues kept their heads down and their mouths shut.
With slumped shoulders and little to say, Florence went home.
The sun failed to warm her, and the tram ride dragged. The walk up to Silver Wish Farm took longer than usual, due to stopping every five minutes to lower the box containing her work supplies.
She sat on a stile and gazed over at the Windmill Practice. No doubt the new doctor had heard by now that a new story would go out about him in the morning, along with an apology and an announcement that the reporter lacking in research had been given the boot.
Sighing, she gazed at her small spider plant, photo of her and Tiggy on horses, pens, notepads, and laptop. ‘Now what?’ she asked her belongings, her voice drifting off into the light breeze. She felt like dumping the lot in the nearest dustbin and stuffing her face with chocolate.
Dr Tully’s little red car pulled out of the driveway to the windmill, and Florence’s heart jumped into her throat. Without thinking, she dived over the stile and hid amongst the brambles, catching her hair in the thicket.
‘Ow, bloody ow!’ she yelped, picking greenery from her locks.
Part of her wished to remain seated on the hard ground with the insects and surrounding grass, but she had to find another job, more so for her sister’s sake than her own.
Scrambling to her feet once the coast was clear, Florence yelled out to the field behind her, needing to get the agitation off her chest. She had no one to blame but herself. After all, she was a tad mean in her article, and since finding out Stefan’s partner had died, all she’d felt was devastated.
Well, Tiggy, this one’s all my own fault. But don’t you worry, I’ll find something .
She shielded her eyes from the sunrays as she peered across the road at the little girl wandering by the opened gate at the top of the driveway where Dr Tully’s car had just exited.
‘Lindy, is that you?’
Lindy looked up and smiled, waving a pencil in the air.
Florence looked both ways before crossing Pepper Lane. ‘What are you doing out here? You could get run over.’
Lindy frowned at the quiet country road. ‘I know my green cross code.’
Florence remembered learning that in school, as her mother certainly hadn’t taught her anything lifesaving. ‘That’s good, but you shouldn’t wander around on your own. Where’s your father?’
‘Working.’
‘And he lets you come out to the road?’
‘I told him I was going outside to find a flower to draw. I have art class this morning.’
‘Art class? Shouldn’t you be in school?’
‘I’m home-schooled.’
‘Oh, well, where’s your teacher?’ Florence glanced around but couldn’t see anyone.
‘She quit.’
‘What, just now?’
‘No, before we came to live here.’
Feeling quite lost in the conversation, Florence sat on the grass, encouraging the child to join her. ‘Do you have a teacher or not?’
Lindy shrugged, then picked at a nearby daisy. ‘Dad is looking for one to teach me online. That’s what we used to do in London.’
‘Oh, I see. But who watches you while you have lessons at home? I’m assuming your dad is at work.’
Lindy nodded. ‘I had a childminder. Dad’s looking for one of those as well, then I won’t have to go to work with him and sit in the other room with my books.’
Florence felt sorry for the girl, cooped up all day in the surgery. ‘I can see why you chose to have an art class.’ She looked to the fluffy white clouds. ‘It’s a nice day to be outside.’
Lindy smiled. ‘I wish I were at the stables with you.’
‘Did you enjoy it there this morning?’
‘I loved it, and Dad said I can have lessons. He spoke to Rhett, and I start on Sunday.’
‘Hey, that’s great.’ Florence already knew she would go straight out for a ride as soon as she got home. It always cleared away any cobwebs. ‘My sister and I used to ride at your age.’
‘Where’s your sister now?’
Hmm, how should I put this?
‘On holiday.’
‘I feel like I’m on holiday.’
Florence knew how she felt. ‘I did too when I first came here.’
‘Isn’t this your home?’
‘It is now, but originally I’m from London.’
Lindy beamed and handed her the daisy she’d been twiddling. ‘Like me.’
‘Yes, just like you.’
Lindy picked a buttercup and placed it on her drawing pad. ‘Were you home-schooled?’
The question took Florence back to the numerous schools she’d attended throughout her childhood. ‘No.’ Her mother hardly wanted her around, let alone have her home all day for schooling. She glanced at Lindy, who had started to draw the flower, and decided she wouldn’t ask why she wasn’t in mainstream school, as something told her Lindy wouldn’t want to talk about it.
‘Do you like flowers, Florence?’
Florence smiled. ‘Very much, but how about we take that flower closer to the windmill? I think your dad would prefer it if you sat outside by the door. I happen to know there’s a wooden bench there.’
Lindy raised to her knees and smiled. ‘Will you come draw with me?’
Florence glanced over the road at her cardboard box and sighed inwardly. All she had planned was breaking the lack of job news to Rhett, then hanging with the horses all day. ‘Why not?’ she agreed, creaking to a stand. ‘Let me just get my things.’
Lindy frowned as Florence crossed the road. ‘Why do you have a box?’
‘It’s a few of my things I’m taking home from work.’
‘My dad brought a box home from work like that once. It was when he’d left his job to work somewhere else. Did you leave your job?’
Florence joined her. ‘Yep. I’m looking for a new job. I didn’t like the one I had.’ It was a half-truth, so she shrugged it off and walked along the pathway the side of the drive.
‘I thought you worked with horses,’ said Lindy, heading straight to the bench.
‘I do, but I also had an office job.’
Lindy’s eyes came alight as she sat. ‘Can you teach? You could be my new teacher. That’s a good job, my dad says.’
‘It’s a very good job, but unfortunately, I’m not qualified.’ She saw the girl’s shoulders droop. ‘However, I can be your classmate for a bit. I always liked art, not that I’m any good.’ She sat by Lindy’s side and leaned over the drawing pad. ‘Hmm, let me see how talented you are.’ She widened her eyes at just how skilled Lindy actually was. ‘Wow, you really can draw. How did you learn to do that at your age?’
Lindy stared blankly at her picture. ‘I just draw every day.’
‘Do you want to be an artist when you’re older?’
‘I want to make picture books.’ Lindy beamed. ‘I write stories about animals.’
‘Aww, that sounds lovely. I’d like to see them one day.’
Lindy pointed over to her cottage. ‘I can show you now. They’re in my room.’
Florence could only imagine the look on Stefan’s face if he found her in his home. ‘Erm, another time. You’re not supposed to be wandering off, remember?’
‘It’s not wandering. My house is right there.’
‘Still, it’s school time. You finish art class.’ Florence had an idea. ‘Ooh, there’s a book and art shop down the bottom of the lane. The Book Gallery, it’s called. Let your dad know, and I’m sure he can take you. I think you’d love it. Downstairs is all books, and upstairs is artwork, and I happen to know there is a children’s book club. You could join. Read along with the other kids.’
Lindy stopped smiling. ‘I’ll tell my dad.’
Florence felt as though she’d put her foot in her mouth. It wasn’t nice watching the twinkle fade from those little pale-blue eyes. ‘Tell him there’s a lovely tearoom down there too. Best chocolate muffins ever.’ She hoped that might bring the spark back.
Lindy smiled. It was weak, but a smile all the same.
‘Erm, Lindy,’ called Stefan, standing in the doorway of the practice.
‘Hey, Dad. We’re drawing flowers for art class. Florence quit her job so had nothing to do.’
Florence was sure her jaw just hit the grass. She quickly closed her mouth as she stood, gathering her things. ‘I’m just leaving.’
‘I’ll see you at horse riding on Sunday,’ said Lindy, waving her pencil.
Florence tried to avoid eye contact with Stefan as she said goodbye to Lindy, but she could see through her peripheral vision he was staring at her cardboard box. ‘Will do.’
‘Erm, Florence,’ he said, stepping forward, but Florence wasn’t sticking around for the rest of his sentence.
‘Have to go, bye.’ And with that she half-jogged back to the road.