THE FLAPPER'S FAN

Chapter 5 - Such a Wonderful Day

Nick's house was in a nice area opposite a small private park. Joe carried my suitcase inside and then departed to take the car to the nearby garage. I stood awkwardly in the entrance way while Nick removed his coat and scarf and an older woman suddenly appeared from the gloom of the darkened rooms.

"Tsk tsk, you're late tonight Master Nick." She spoke in hushed tones, as if she might wake someone if she spoke in her normal voice. She stopped at the sight of me and her eyebrows shot up into her nightcap. She didn't say a word but I saw Nick smother a smile as he passed his coat into her outstretched arms. She kept her eye on me as she opened the hall closet and hung the coat.

"Mrs Brewer, this is Miss Adams, from Australia. She will be working for me at the new office, and for the moment she has nowhere to stay, so I was hoping you could make up one of the guest rooms." He spoke to her in a wheedling tone, adding a big smile at the end that might not have worked on the stoic housekeeper but certainly weakened my knees.

"Hmmph," she said. "Follow me then." That was aimed at me. To Nick she said, "I'll see you in the morning."  There was an emphasis on 'you', indicating he would have a few questions to answer.

"Of course," he muttered, hiding his amusement behind his hand. His eyes twinkled as they met mine and I raised a brow at him, as I followed the formidable woman up the stairs.

Later, I lay in the bedroom that had once belonged to Nick's sister, Nancy, now a baroness or some such and living in a mansion in the countryside, according to Mrs Brewer. She had obviously been full of questions, but she kept them to herself, and as I wondered how often Nick brought women back to his house, I felt a little buzz of jealousy. Well, that would not do at all. I was still damaged from my broken marriage and although I could certainly appreciate a good looking man, I was not ready to indulge in any shenanigans, and that was before adding in the whole time-travel and mystery-solving ticket home thing. Mrs Brewer had left me with clean towels and a mug of hot cocoa and I had washed in the adjacent bathroom, which she had been proud to advise had only recently been renovated with the latest in modern fixtures. Now I was tucked in the huge four poster bed under clean sheets and warm blankets, the sounds of the city muted in the distance. I felt oddly calm, when I really should be freaked out. I was in a different time, in a strange man's house, involved in a mystery involving a glamorous film star. It was like I'd stepped into an old movie. And yet, I felt more comfortable, and more in the present, than I had in a very long time. I felt a smile curve my lips as I drifted off to sleep.

The morning brought it's own struggles, mostly involving getting dressed. Without a hairdryer, my sleek bob had become a mass of messy curls. I found a chartreuse scarf in my suitcase and tied it about my head in a style I thought looked true to the era, and let my curls burst out at the sides and back. It made it easier to dress, as I just put on the co-ordinating dress and the pair of lace-up shoes. I picked out a hat and coat to wear outside and laid it on the bed with my handbag before going down to breakfast. It was like choosing a costume for a play and was kind of fun. Downstairs I found the dining room which I remembered from the brief orientation provided the night before. A buffet was laid with a number of items and I helped myself and took a seat, nibbling nervously on some warm, dry toast. Mrs Brewer came stomping down the stairs just as Nick emerged from his office and I heard her voice though not the words, using a strident, complaining tone.

"Well what has she done?" I heard him ask followed by a chuckle at her unintelligible reply. He said something to calm her because when she passed through the dining room moments later she showed no signs of the anger I had heard in her voice. Nick followed, helping himself to tea from the cosied pot on the trivet in front of me.

"What was that all about?" I asked.

He leaned against the table and looked down at me with mock anger, one errant dark curl falling rakishly onto his forehead.