Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
‘There you go, Mrs Jenkins,’ said Bets, handing the tabby cat, who’d just had her ear stitched up, back to her owner.
‘Thank you, Bets, dear. Honestly, she’s half the size of the other cats in the neighbourhood. I don’t know why Daisy gets into these scrapes all the time.’
‘Some folk are just scrappy little devils,’ said Bets, thinking again of her mum at lunchtime. ‘It’s in their nature, I’m afraid.’ She ushered Mrs Jenkins out of the room, left her with Margaret at the reception desk and returned to wipe down the examination counter.
Diane came in with a couple of boxes to replenish the stocks in the cupboards.
‘Want a cuppa?’ she asked.
‘I’d love one. I didn’t get lunch in the end.’ Bets’ stomach grumbled in agreement as she remembered the tea-soaked sandwiches she’d had to abandon.
‘You were gone long enough,’ Diane complained and then gave her a snarky smile. ‘Still getting preferential treatment even if you’re not going out with the boss’ son anymore. Good for you.’
Normally Bets would have ignored the comment.
Not today. ‘I’ve never had preferential treatment and you know it.
Don’t forget I was up all night babysitting a sick guinea pig the other week – I’m not sure that counts as preferential treatment, or does it?
’ She didn’t bother to hide the bite in her tone.
‘Only joking. No need to get on your high horse.’
Bets shrugged.
‘I only meant, good for you. Not taking any crap. Are you still going to Ollie and Anna’s wedding next weekend?’
‘Yes,’ replied Bets. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘Oh, you are touchy today. I just … well, with Jack being one of Ollie’s friends.’
‘Anna and Ollie are both our friends,’ snapped Bets.
‘Of course they are.’ Diane gave her a conspiratorial smile. ‘I hope you’re going to dress up and make sure Jack knows what he’s missing. Shame you can’t find a plus-one to take.’
Bets heart sank as she realised that with virtually the whole village attending, all eyes at the damn wedding would be watching her as much as the bride and groom.
She and Jack had been tipped to get married one day.
The thought of turning up on her own twisted her stomach into a tight knot.
Maybe she wouldn’t go to the wedding. Cry off at the last minute. No one would miss her.
* * *
Devon still hadn’t returned at the end of surgery, so Bets took the Volvo and drove back to Ella’s, where they began to load the precious cargo into the back of the car, the seats laid flat to accommodate the dozen or so canvases.
‘How are you feeling?’ asked Ella as they returned to the hall of the cottage to collect the last two pictures.
‘Much better. Thank you for letting me cry all over you, again.’
‘Don’t be silly. You’ve been a good friend to me, so stop apologising. If there’s anything I can do to help, you only have to ask.’
‘Actually, there is one thing.’
‘What?’
‘Would it be all right if I tagged along with you to Ollie and Anna’s wedding? Just for the church bit. I don’t want to show up on my own.’
‘Of course you can. I thought you were going to ask me to do something useful, like put itching powder in Jack’s underwear drawer.’
Bets smiled. ‘I’m not sure he’s got an underwear drawer. From what I can gather he’s sleeping in Audrey’s sewing room on a camp bed.’
‘Serves him right,’ said Ella uncharitably and they grinned at each other. ‘We’d better get a move on. Margery wanted us there by seven.’
‘Is it like letting your puppies go?’ asked Bets, as Ella gave the last bubble-wrapped picture a pat before closing the tailgate.
‘Yes,’ said Ella a touch wistfully as she climbed into the front seat. ‘But then I do want people to enjoy them.’ Her face turned fierce. ‘And I’m really damn proud of them.’
‘So you should be.’ Bets turned on the ignition, casting a look over her shoulder at the pile of paintings behind them. ‘They’re brilliant. I might not know anything about art but I think they’re gorgeous.’
Ella gave her a gentle smile. ‘And that’s what counts. If they bring pleasure to people, that’s priceless.’
‘I’m not sure about priceless.’ Bets swung the heavy Volvo out of the lane on the High Street and drove past the green, giving George, who was chatting to someone on the corner, a quick wave.
Ella’s phone beeped. ‘Oh, Devon’s just texted. He’s going to meet me at the gallery and take me out for dinner in Amersham. Do you want to come with us?’
‘No, thank you,’ said Bets with feeling.
‘You’d be welcome.’
‘Yeah, right, as welcome as a gooseberry in a jam sandwich.’
Ella frowned. ‘What?’
‘Never mind. I need to get back to take Tiggy out for a walk.’ Before Ella could push the invitation again, she changed the subject.
‘Devon said that one of your pictures went for fifteen-hundred pounds. Sounds pretty pricey to me.’
Ella blushed. ‘I’m grateful that Margery thinks they’re good. But…’ She shrugged her shoulders.
Bets rolled her eyes, wondering how anyone as beautiful and talented as Ella could possibly doubt herself.
Before long, they were speeding along the dual carriageway towards their destination.
‘Okay, and thanks again, Bets. You’re a star.’
‘I know,’ said Bets in her usual chirpy fashion, but it was all front. She didn’t think she was a star at all.
‘I meant it,’ reiterated Ella. ‘You need to start believing in yourself.’
‘Mmm,’ said Bets. ‘I’ve been thinking…’ No, she wasn’t going to say anything. Not yet. Not until she’d applied.
‘About what?’ prompted Ella.
‘Oh, it’s nothing. Just maybe considering a new hobby. You know there’s a village bowls club.’
‘Yes, and they’re all in their eighties. You’ll be running round after them all, polishing their balls for them,’ said Ella.
Bets laughed. ‘It could be the most action I get for a while.’
Ella rolled her eyes. ‘Maybe you should go on a date. How about the train guy? He looked quite cute.’
‘Did Doris show everyone who I’d matched with?’
‘’Fraid so.’
‘No and no and no. I can’t think of anything worse than going on a date with a complete stranger.’ Nor could Bets imagine ever getting naked with anyone again. Jack was all she’d ever known.
Great Missenden was a small, pretty village and the gallery was centrally situated. She pulled up outside. There was no available parking, so she’d have to chance her luck and park on a yellow line while she unloaded.
When she fought her way in through the front door with the first unwieldy package, Ella lagging behind, a woman appeared in front of her.
‘Hello, can I help you?’ she asked in a lovely, rich deep voice.
‘Yes, I’m with Ella, helping her to deliver her paintings.’
The woman jumped up with the enthusiasm of a firecracker despite her advanced years.
‘Oh! How exciting! I’m dying to see them.’ Her lively eyes danced with eager anticipation. ‘Where’s Ella?’
‘Right here, Margery,’ said Ella from behind one of her pictures.
‘Hello, darling. Oh I’m so excited. Hurry up and get them all in. I can’t wait to see them.’
‘No peeking yet,’ said Ella, sliding the big canvas down on to the floor.
Margery pouted, her eyes twinkling. ‘It’s like Christmas Day, waiting for everyone to get up before you can open your presents.’
Bets laughed. ‘Where do you want them?’
‘Would you mind carrying them through to the storeroom at the back? I’ll get my nephew to help you.’ With that she bellowed, ‘Jamie! Need you!’
Bets gently deposited the first picture in the pristine storeroom, which was so tidy she didn’t think it deserved the name, and hurried out to the car to bring in the next picture. Ella and Margery apparently couldn’t wait and were already unwrapping the first canvas.
‘Hello, can I give you a hand?’ said a voice behind her and she turned to find a tall man with dark hair and dark brown eyes. ‘I’ve been drafted in by M, my aunt.’
‘Oh, thanks, that would be great.’ She handed him a painting.
‘These yours?’ he asked.
‘God no. What I know about art could be written on a postage stamp and posted off into the ether,’ said Bets in her usual airy manner.
To her surprise he gave her an admiring smile. ‘That’s quite some metaphor.’
This man thought she was clever … or something. He didn’t know who she really was. The anonymity made her stand a little straighter. ‘Thank you,’ she said with a smile and gave him a flirtatious bow. ‘I made it up.’
‘I guessed that,’ he replied, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
‘Although,’ she added, because she couldn’t help her innate honesty, ‘I’m the delivery driver. Art’—she lowered her voice as if telling him a secret—‘is above my paygrade.’
He grinned in appreciation. ‘Mine, too.’ He, too, lowered his voice and added conspiratorially, ‘I don’t get half of it.
But I nod and agree with my aunt. She’s the expert.
I’m just the dogsbody nephew.’ His eyes twinkled at her.
Bets didn’t think he was ‘just’ anything at all.
There was an air about him that suggested he was more than happy in his own skin and quite comfortable with who he was. No, definitely not ‘just’ something.
‘There is an art to dogsbodying, you know. Not just anyone can do it,’ she said as they carried the pictures through the gallery door.
‘Now you’re being kind,’ he replied.
‘I bet you have a proper job, too.’
‘I’m a journalist.’
‘Oh,’ said Bets. She wasn’t sure she’d ever met a journalist before.
That was above her pay grade, too. What did they actually do?
Surely he couldn’t write all day, every day.
She couldn’t imagine a job like that where you didn’t really do anything.
Sitting at a desk would be complete anathema to her.
‘What do you do?’
‘I’m a veterinary nurse.’ And once again she stood a little straighter, because actually, she was proud of what she did. She’d worked hard to get her qualifications and she loved her job, even though occasionally she wondered if she’d be there in another twenty years doing the same thing.
‘So you really are a dogsbody.’
Bets laughed. ‘Very good. I’d never thought of it like that.’
‘Hey, guys. Hi, Jamie.’ Ella said, emerging from Margery’s office.
‘You timed that well, we’ve nearly finished,’ said Bets. ‘And I must go.’
‘Not going to turn into a pumpkin, are you?’ asked Jamie. ‘Aren’t you going to stay for the great unwrapping? Aunt M has been hopping about with excitement all morning.’
‘I’d love to, but I need to get back.’ She’d left Tiggy at home after she finished work and didn’t want to leave her any longer.
‘Shame. Will you be at the exhibition launch?’
Bets met his direct gaze and felt a little shiver of awareness shoot through her. Was this guy interested in her? Surely not.
‘I will,’ she said, feeling her stomach lurch.
‘Excellent. I’ll see you there. Nice to meet you … er…’
‘Bets,’ she said, and was about to accept his words as a parting platitude but something made her stop. ‘Nice to meet you, too,’ she added, and found herself giving him an arch, sassy smile meeting his direct gaze with her own.
She turned and walked out to the car, her demeanour confident, amused and surprised by her uncharacteristic forwardness.