Chapter Twenty-Four
‘I can’t believe I did that,’ said Ella for the third time, as Devon manoeuvred the car out of the narrow side street.
‘Neither could Patrick,’ replied Devon and even though his face was in profile as he concentrated on the stop–start bumper to bumper traffic, she could tell from the odd contortions his chin went through that he was trying to hide his amusement.
‘It’s not funny. In the space of one day, I’ve become a felon and committed two serious crimes, stealing and assault. I’ve never even been in a police station before.’
‘That makes two of us,’ said Devon.
Ella rested her chin on her knees, her head felt too heavy to hold up any longer. Who knew that high drama could be so draining? ‘This has to be the worst day of my life. I was arrested in front of a whole gallery of people and minutes from being put in a cell!’
‘I did wonder, when I got there, whether I should have brought legal back-up with me.’
‘Oh no, they supply that. Duty solicitor.’ Ella felt positively knowledgeable and not in a good way. ‘They’d called one.’ She picked at the fabric stretched taut over her knees. ‘What must you think of me? I’ve never done anything like that before.’
‘Done what? Stealing a painting or assaulting someone?’ He shot her a cheerful look. ‘I think you’ve gone up in my estimation. A woman who’s prepared to take charge.’ His hands drummed on the steering wheel as the car inched forward in the grindingly slow traffic.
‘Has he really taken all your pictures?’
‘Yup. There are still a few at the gallery, although marked as sold. I’m not sure where I stand on those.’ A flicker of sadness ran through her. She should be so proud of all those red stickers denoting the work had been sold. Patrick had denied her that pleasure.
‘So has he been pocketing the money?’ Devon’s attempt at diplomacy rather than accusing Patrick outright of being a thief made her like him all the more.
‘Pocketing is one way of putting it. As I haven’t seen any money and I doubt he ever had any intention of passing it my way, I’d say he’s been stealing it,’ she said with a bitter edge to her voice. ‘As this is all that’s left of my work, I’d guess he’s been selling my pictures for years.’
That huge tax statement now rang alarm bells.
‘I don’t know what else he’s been up to either but it’s not looking good.
He’s managed all my business interests for years.
I don’t know where to start trying to untangle it all.
He deals with my publisher, the merchandising stuff and my artwork.
I loved your parting shot about my solicitor being in touch, as if you knew I’d got one, which I incidentally I haven’t but I’m thinking I need one. Do you know anyone?’
Devon let out a long unhappy sigh. ‘Unfortunately I do. An old university friend. I’ll contact him and see if he’ll do a bog-off deal, buy one get one free.’
Devon’s stomach let out an almighty rumble as his car pulled onto the drive outside Bets’ house, the wheels scrunching on gravel.
He killed the engine and switched the lights off.
Ella welcomed the quiet as she opened her door and stepped out.
After a day in London, it seemed incredibly peaceful.
For a minute she listened to the heavy silence of the country evening, which when you really took notice, wasn’t so quiet after all.
Wind rustled the hedgerow, teasing the leaves and branches; she could hear the distant cry of a bird in the sky as it wheeled away to the far distant horizon and, closer to home, the steady baa of sheep was coming from the next field.
She heard Devon’s stomach grumble again.
‘You sound like Tess. She’s always hungry.’
‘Except that I’m not a dustbin on four legs,’ said Devon as he waited for her to walk around the car before they went towards the house. Ella liked the unconscious, old-fashioned gesture. ‘I just didn’t eat today.’
‘Oh no. What happened to lunch? You were meeting your friend.’
‘A damsel in distress called just after I’d taken my third bite of a very nice bruschetta.’
She looked at him appalled. ‘You didn’t just abandon your lunch, did you?’ Of course he had. How else could he have got there so quickly?
He nodded.
She took his arm and squeezed it. ‘Oh no, I’m so sorry.
’ She looked at her watch: it was now half past five.
‘I didn’t realise. You really didn’t have to do that.
’ Although she was grateful he had. She’d never been more pleased to see anyone in her life than when his tall figure marched through the door into the police station, like the cavalry arriving.
Once he was there, everything had suddenly seemed so much better.
‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’ And she didn’t. His arrival had changed everything.
He shrugged.
‘No, seriously.’ She put a hand on his arm. ‘I know it was all sorted when you arrived but it was just such a relief that . . . ’ Oh God, it was going to sound really cheesy, ‘that I knew I could phone you and you’d be . . . there. Thank you.’
‘No problem. Glad I could help.’ His calm, stoic response made her smile.
Typical Devon, rescuing people was all in a day’s work to him, but she really wanted him to know how grateful she was.
She wanted to do something nice for him.
Except she couldn’t think what. He was so self-possessed and sorted.
‘Do you think Bets is in? The house looks very quiet.’
Devon pulled out his phone and with his thumb swiped the screen.
‘Ah, text from Bets. She’s gone out. Left the dogs with Dad.
Mum will be out. One of her meetings.’ He ran a hand through his messy hair and turned in the opposite direction to the three-storey brick built farmhouse.
With its large red central glossy door and an arched fanlight above, the regency-style house had a grandeur and elegance that suggested this had once been a very well-to-do farm.
‘Come on, come meet the old codger and let’s retrieve our hounds.’
Devon let himself in the front door, yelling as he went. ‘Hi, Dad.’
‘In here. Your mother’s out.’
Both dogs were sprawled across rugs on the floor, looking completely comfortable and at home.
Dexter opened one eye as if to acknowledge Devon before quickly closing it.
Tess, more sluggish and reluctant, lurched to her feet and staggered towards Ella, promptly collapsing at her feet with a silly grin on her face.
‘What have you done to them?’ asked Devon, laughter in his voice as he crossed the room to shake his dad’s hand and give him a man-clap to the back. ‘Or is that a stupid question?’
‘Bets took them out at lunchtime and I took them out at teatime.’ He smiled at Ella.
‘Sorry, Dad. This is Ella.’
‘Hello,’ said Ella. ‘Thanks for looking after Tess. It was very kind of you.’
‘No worries. I enjoyed taking them out, although they’re both knackered,’ said Geoffrey unfurling his spider limbs from the sofa and reaching forward to shake her hand. ‘Nice to meet you. Ella, was it? Is that short for something? Cinderella?’ He laughed gently at his own joke.
‘No. Just Ella.’
‘Excellent, Just Ella. Welcome and welcome to your rather charming dog who has been on her absolute best behaviour,’ he paused, ‘except for a slight dairy incident.’ He gave a positive smile. ‘But at least her coat will be lovely and shiny.’
‘Oh no! Not again. She didn’t eat your butter, did she? Tess! You are naughty.’
Tess lowered her head, eyes looking up from under lashes.
‘Fraid so. My fault. I should know better. You know what Labs are like.’
In unison the three of them chorused, ‘they eat anything.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t worry, my dear. Dogs will be dogs. My fault entirely. Do take a seat. Would you like a sherry? Or a G&T?’
Ella looked at the tall, spare figure who’d already crossed to a highly polished sideboard where there was a tray holding a decanter and odds and sods of antique silver.
Devon shot her an apologetic look. ‘I think Ella wants to get home, Dad. It’s been a long day.’
If there hadn’t been a mirror on the other side of the room, Ella would have missed the naked sadness on the older man’s face, and the lonely longing look he gave Devon.
It made her own heart ache. Stopping for a drink was the very least she could do, especially after all Devon had done for her today.
‘I’d love one. It has been quite a day.’ Geoffrey’s stooped shoulders relaxed and Ella knew she’d done the right thing despite Devon’s perplexed frown. ‘You probably won’t want me associating with your son once you find out the crime spree I’ve been on today.’
‘You’ve intrigued me.’ He poured the drinks and escorted Ella to the sofa. ‘Now tell me all about today. Bets said you’d gone up to London to get some paintings for Aud’s talk at the WI. Did you get everything you needed?’
Ella sank into the feather cushions of the faded raspberry velvet sofa and took a slug of her drink, Tess’s head already pressed against her legs as if the dog was worried Ella might abandon her again.
Despite there being several comfortable seats around the room, Devon chose to flop down next to her.
‘It was a bit of an abortive trip, unfortunately.’ Ella bit her lip as she thought about the events of the day. Her lips twitched. Devon caught her eye and winked.
Geoffrey lifted an eyebrow in amused patience.
‘I stole a painting.’ She swallowed, valiantly holding back the laughter that threatened to bubble over. ‘Then I was arrested.’ A snigger slipped through. ‘Then I was released and I hit my ex-boyfriend over the head with the painting, which, I might add in my defence, he had stolen from me.’
Beside her she could feel Devon’s body shaking with laughter. It was no good, the images in her head replayed themselves and she couldn’t help but see the funny side of events.
‘My, that sounds like quite an adventure,’ said Geoffrey, a teasing light glinting in his eyes. Ella recognised the expression – she’d seen it on Devon’s face.