Chapter Six
‘Morning!’
Ella took in a flurry of bouncing curls, lots of freckles and a wide, smiley mouth. After four of the most boring days on earth, the unexpected interruption was quite welcome.
‘Sorry to arrive unannounced but I promised Magda I’d call in. Have you heard from her? Is she having a fab time? Isn’t she amazing, going off on an adventure like that at her age?’
Ella blinked at the barrage of questions and then braced herself as Tess knocked her sideways in her enthusiasm to say hello to the stranger on the doorstep.
‘Sorry, I’m Bets and this is Dexter.’ She bent to pet Tess who was already nose to nose with the brown pointer on a lead at her side.
‘Aren’t you a darling?’ she grabbed her collar and read the brass tag, ‘Tess. I love Labs, they’re so friendly.
Dexter’s very handsome but he can be a bit snooty.
’ She gave his ears a quick stroke. ‘But he’s lovely really, aren’t you, sweetie? ’
All Ella could do was nod. Her brain hadn’t caught up yet.
‘So how are you settling in? Sorry, I should have called in earlier but I thought I’d give you a bit of time and I’ve been so busy and then . . . ’ she pulled out a dark blue envelope on which could be seen Magda’s familiar silver script.
Ella’s heart sank. Now what?
To Ella’s surprise and faint annoyance, the girl didn’t hand it over but slipped out a piece of paper and read it, before giving Ella a beaming smile.
‘You’re on the rota for the last Sunday of the month which is ages away but I thought you’d like some warning.
You’ll want plenty of time to prepare. And you might want some help.
’ She folded the paper back into the envelope and put it in the pocket of her rather hideous anorak that style had not so much forgotten but turned its back on.
Then the girl grinned, her whole face lighting up and for a moment Ella forgot how irritating and loud and busy the girl was, in the sudden desire to capture all that energy and rosy cheeked openness.
Form and shape, in an abstract way. Her fingers itched to pick up a paintbrush.
Ironic when she’d spent the last two days trying to paint and failing miserably.
‘Have you done flowers before? Magda said you were arty so wouldn’t mind.’
Ella was so busy imagining painting that she wasn’t really paying attention.
She’d tried watercolours of flowers in the past, maybe she could have another go at them.
‘I have tried, but they always look a bit rubbish.’ She took another look at Bets’ face.
Lovely rose and cream complexion. Gorgeous luminous skin.
‘Oh, the vicar won’t mind, he’s grateful they get done at all.’ Bets turned around, trying to untangle the lead which had become wrapped around her leg as the two dogs weighed each other up, circling and sniffing, tails wagging furiously.
‘The vicar?’ Ella blinked again. Was this girl completely mad?
‘Yes. Reverend Richard. He’s a bit scatty but he has all the old dears running around after him, keeping him on the straight and narrow.
Between you and me, I think he cultivates it a bit.
’ She tugged at the lead as Dexter tried to follow Tess down the garden.
‘Although I did wonder if there might be something going on between him and Magda. He seemed quite keen on her.’
‘Sorry, you’ve lost me.’
‘The vicar at the church. He’s very nice but he can be a bit disorganised.’ Bets said it slowly, eyeing Ella with doubt.
‘No, back up a bit. The flowers.’
‘Magda put you down on the church flower rota. To arrange them. In the church.’
Ella straightened. ‘You have to be kidding! I’m twenty-nine, not seventy-flaming-nine. I’m not doing bloody flower arranging.’
Bets gave her an irrepressible grin. ‘Well, I did wonder when Magda said it, but she was very insistent. She said you’d surpass yourself – or maybe she meant surprise yourself. Don’t worry, I can give you a hand. We’ll muddle through.’
Before Ella could open her mouth to explain that she really, really wasn’t doing the church flowers, Bets had moved on.
‘Do you need anything? Came down from London, didn’t you?’
Ella tensed. Did this girl know everything about her?
‘Have you been out yet today?’ Bets laughed. ‘What am I like?’ She nodded towards Ella’s pyjamas. ‘Of course you haven’t. I’m just taking Dex out now for his walk. You can come and bring Tess.’
‘I haven’t even got dressed or showered.’ And she had work to do.
‘No worries, I’ll sit in the garden and wait.’
Short of shutting and bolting the door, which seemed rather excessive, Ella decided there wasn’t a lot she could do but dress and join the slightly annoying Bets.
She was the type of person who would just keep knocking at the door until you answered it.
Besides, the dog needed a walk. To Ella’s shame it hadn’t had a proper one for a couple of days.
Not after the cow pat fiasco. She’d got into the habit of going to the park around the corner, sitting on a bench and letting the dog charge about the field. It seemed happy enough.
Once dressed, Ella stepped out of the front door to find that Bets had been joined by George.
‘Ella, this is George. He lives next door,’ said Bets.
‘We’ve met, old friends we are,’ announced George addressing the whole garden. ‘Morning, m’dear. How’s that leg? All better now? I must say you’re a quiet one. Not a peep out of her,’ he said to Bets. ‘Have a nice walk. I’m just off to pick up my paper. Do you want anything from the village shop?’
‘That’s kind, but I’m all right thanks.’
‘Jolly good.’ He saluted the pair of them and snapped his garden gate shut.
‘He’s such a sweetie,’ observed Bets. ‘Always on the go. You wouldn’t believe he’s nearly eighty.’
Ella looked back at the sprightly figure trotting down the path. Eighty? ‘Really. He looks good.’ Although probably because the pace of life was so much slower out here; he hadn’t had a chance to wear himself out.
‘So, Magda says you’re an artist. What kind of art do you do?
’ They left the cottage garden and turned right along the high street, if you could call it that.
With both dogs on leads, they strolled past the pub which looked quaint and villagey, not really Ella’s kind of thing.
Give her a wine bar any day. ‘Magda didn’t say, so there’s been lots of speculation.
Do you do portraits? Will we see any famous celebrities trooping up your garden path?
That was Doris next door-but-one’s idea. ’
‘Portraits? Why would she think that?’ Ella shook her head.
‘Bless her, she’s partial to the odd copy of Hello.’ Bets laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘I think she had visions of David and Victoria Beckham popping by for a sitting.’
The mind boggled. People around here clearly didn’t have enough to do.
‘I told her that was wishful thinking. Then Greta, she runs the pub,’ Bets nodded her head at the building they’d just passed, ‘said you probably do those horrible daubs that pass for art.’ She grinned. ‘She’s hoping you’re a bit of a hippie with plaits. Shake up the place a bit.’
‘God, no.’ Ella had always rather hoped she rocked the chic, sophisticated Sam Taylor-Johnson look, if a slightly dishevelled version at the moment. With a sigh she realised just how much she’d let herself go in the last month.
‘This way.’ Bets wheeled off the road, following a public footpath sign. Once through the gate, she unclipped Dexter’s lead. ‘They’ll be fine down here.’
‘George was hoping you might do structural stuff. I think he had ideas about a spot of welding. And Devon, my boss, said you’d probably be very ordinary and not an artist at all but someone who does graphic design.’
Devon sounded disagreeable and uncomfortably close to the mark.
‘Having a quiet day, were you?’ asked Ella with withering sarcasm, or at least she hoped it was. Didn’t they have anything better to do with their lives?
‘Erm . . . ’ Bets’ peaches and cream complexion turned scarlet, ‘not exactly. Magda likes to . . . well, you know. Hold gatherings and . . . ’ she scanned the sky as if an answer might burst forthwith from the clouds. ‘It just came up. Parish council meeting. Yes, that was it. Dull old meeting.’
Ella ducked her head, hiding her expression from the other girl as she bent and tried to unclip the lead.
‘Sadly, they’re all going to be very disappointed, I’m not an artist. I wanted to be,’ she turned her head but not before she caught Bets’ surprisingly candid gaze, ‘it just didn’t happen.
’ A heap of canvases, piled like collapsed dominoes, testament to her failure, currently languished in storage.
She had no idea why she paid good money to keep on storing them.
Bets sighed. ‘That must be disappointing. Trying, wanting and it never happening.’
Ella shot her a startled look, surprised by the other girl’s insight.
‘I wanted to be an actress once.’ There was a hollowness in Bets’ voice completely at odds with her open, candid personality. The brilliant lightbulb personality dimmed for a moment and then she was off again with her runaway questions.
‘So what do you do, then? Just so that I can reassure the hotbed of gossip that is Wilsgrave.’
‘I’m an illustrator. Children’s books.’
Bets put her hands on her hips, the loose lead chinking against her thigh, amusement dancing around her eyes, the earlier moment of melancholy completely banished.
‘That sounds pretty artistic to me.’ She gave a self-deprecating laugh.
‘Crikey, I can’t even choose the right colour wall paint.
’ The dramatic shudder she gave hinted at past decorating disasters. ‘What sort of things do you draw?’
‘Mice, mainly. Children’s books about a family of dormice.’
‘Not Cuthbert Mouse and all his brothers and sister in the shoe?’ Bets’ eyes widened, her mouth opening in a gasp.
‘Yes,’ Ella said warily. Patrick had always preferred her to keep the whole mouse thing low key.