Chapter 17
Throwing herself down onto her old squishy but faithful sofa, Ellie swung her legs up and laid her head back against the arm.
What a day! So much had happened in the last few hours, she was sure it was going to take her a month to unpick, but the main thing was Laura had secured her dress.
She’d fallen in love with the soft ivory one with the flower detail and flowing skirt, and both Ellie and Nicola had agreed it looked amazing on her.
And now they were one step closer to organising Laura and Jackson’s big day.
Yes, there was the huge problem of the lack of caterers to deal with and they were still waiting for a reply from the council to confirm they had been given permission to hold the ceremony at the inn, but she didn’t even want to think about that now. Any of it.
She was officially wedding-done for the rest of the weekend.
Ha, no, that wasn’t true. With all the best will in the world and promises to herself to take a break over the weekend, she knew she wouldn’t.
She never had. And there was so much to do to prepare for Laura and Jackson’s upcoming special day that she knew she’d be reaching for her laptop to continue searching for caterers or florists that would have the availability to fit them in.
Or agree to. Melissa had spun her web of lies to Fiona about why she and Ellie had parted ways, and so everyone on the wedding scene, from the other wedding planners in their circle, to the florists, caterers and balloon suppliers, would have heard.
And if Ellie’s name had been dragged through the mud as much as she suspected, it was bound to have a knock-on effect with whom would risk working with her.
And she didn’t blame them. Not really. The world of wedding planning was small, and who would want their reputation tarnished by someone like her? The version of her that Melissa had painted, anyway?
Pulling a cushion from her side, she held it over her face, shutting out the light from the stark overhead bulb as well as the world.
She could quite happily stay in her little cocoon.
Shut herself away from the world for a while at least. And turn her back on the business she had begun to build.
But she couldn’t. Not just yet. She had to fulfil her promise to Laura and Jackson and plan their wedding.
After that though? Who knew? Perhaps she’d change careers, or try to.
The high-pitched tone of the doorbell echoed through the cottage, and Ellie groaned. A visitor was the last thing she needed right now, after a fully packed day and trying to deal with the emotional turmoil Fiona had unleashed on her.
Pulling the cushion down, she hugged it against her chest and held her breath. If it was Rick, she’d give him ten seconds before he just let himself in with the key he still hadn’t returned. If it was anyone else, then hopefully they’d assume the cottage was empty and retreat.
One, two, three… The playful tune filled the room once more.
Please go away. Just go. Her feet hurt from all the walking, her cheeks hurt from all the smiling, and she could feel a headache coming on from the earlier conversation with Fiona.
A loud clack sounded, loud enough that Ellie worried the doorknocker may have created a permanent dent in the wooden door.
Well, that answered one thing. It definitely wasn’t Rick.
He wouldn’t have been patient enough to ring twice, let alone knock and wait.
That left Mrs Jedd. Mrs Jedd wouldn’t give up.
Ellie was shocked that her name wasn’t an entry in the Oxford Dictionary.
Right under the definition of ‘persistent’.
Sighing, she threw the cushion to the end of the sofa and stood up.
Her neighbour would likely be complaining about Pedro and Purdy again and the fact that Ellie was still feeding them and the other birds who frequented the garden.
As she walked towards the small hallway, she glanced back towards the kitchen, wishing she’d thought to run through and put a slice of bread under the grill.
The fire alarm sounding as it reached optimum burning potential would have ensured Ellie’s release from whatever conversation awaited her.
Reluctantly, she pulled the door open as potential excuses raced through her mind. A welcome cool breeze filled the hallway as Ellie froze. It wasn’t Mrs Jedd. It was Murray. Murray standing there holding a cardboard box in his hands.
‘Hi. I hope you don’t mind my dropping by like this, but I’ve just come from the grocery store and may have got a little carried away in the reduced section.
’ Grimacing, he tilted the box so Ellie could see the abundance of vegetables inside.
‘I can’t eat them all, so I wondered if you’d let me cook for you? We could continue our chat?’
‘Oh, umm…’ What was she supposed to say?
Did they have any more to say to each other?
They’d cleared the air, so to speak, already, hadn’t they?
As much as either of them had been willing to at the time, anyway.
‘Since when can you cook? Because if you’re relying on my chef skills, you’ll be sorely disappointed, I’m afraid. ’
Murray chuckled. ‘You’ve not changed then.’
‘No.’ She smiled. ‘But I’m assuming you have? That or you just don’t particularly care what you’ll be putting into your stomach if I accept your offer to come in?’
‘Haha, I care immensely and, yes, I can now hold my own in even the most prestigious of cooking competitions.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Or perhaps one which isn’t very competitive.’
Ellie shrugged. She was shattered and could quite easily close her eyes standing right there and fall straight asleep, but the conversation she’d had with Fiona was still replaying in her mind and the distraction might just help.
Plus, at the mere mention of food, her stomach grumbled, reminding her she hadn’t had a bite to eat since lunch. ‘Okay. Why not?’
‘Seriously?’ Murray widened his eyes.
‘Hey, if you’ve changed your mind and want to go home and enjoy all your veg by yourself, then be my guest.’ She held her hand out, indicating the gate at the end of the garden path.
‘No, no. I’ll come in.’ Murray grinned. ‘Thank you.’
Stepping back, she held the door open for him and watched as he stepped inside and slid off his trainers before walking the few short steps to the living room door.
‘Oh, wait!’ Ellie called out just as he used his elbow to open the door.
How could she have forgotten about the distinct lack of ‘stuff’ left over from Rick’s departure?
It had only been a few days, but she’d been so busy she’d just been getting on with life, but now Murray was about to take a look around the cottage and realise she didn’t even have the very basic of belongings.
‘Is your kitchen through there?’ Nodding towards the end of the room, he shifted the box slightly in his arms.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Frowning, she led the way into the kitchen and indicated the bare work surface. ‘You can just pop it down there.’
‘Great.’ Lowering the box, he then turned around and pointed to the cupboard next to the oven. ‘Saucepans? I think we’ll need at least three for what I’m thinking about cooking.’
She swallowed. This was it. This was the moment when she’d need to be honest with him and then likely watch his expression turn to disgust. How could someone have let this happen?
How could she? She was a perfectly capable person, and yet she’d allowed Rick to run rings around her, and she still hadn’t been able to get anything back from him despite all the calls and texts she’d sent the day after he’d left.
She should have continued contacting him until he relented.
Or threatened him with court action. Something.
Anything. But she hadn’t. She’d continued to live like this, and she’d just got on with her job, with everything.
Bending down, Murray opened the cupboard door, likely expecting to rummage through a bazillion pans and kitchen gadgets.
After taking one look in the cupboard, he turned and looked at her before standing up again.
Spinning slowly on the spot, he glanced around as though realising for the first time since he’d stepped inside that there was a significant lack of things in the place.
‘I… I have a saucepan.’ Hurrying to the draining board, she held up the small pan Rick had left her and watched a dribble of water run down the handle and onto her skin.
Placing his hands in his jean pockets, Murray frowned, concern etched across his face. ‘What’s going on, Eleanor?’
She lowered the saucepan quietly back on top of the single plate, knife and fork, which had been on the draining board too. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I know you. Not in a million years would you only have one saucepan, not to mention no toaster or anything else for that matter.’ Pausing, he walked back through to the living room and stopped in his tracks. ‘Have you been robbed? Has someone broken in? Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’ Ellie held her hands up, palms forward. ‘And no, I’ve not been burgled. Nothing of the sort.’
‘Then what? You’ve never been a minimalist, and this…’ His forehead creased as though he were thinking. ‘Although it’s a lovely cottage, this isn’t you. The room’s empty besides a sofa.’
‘I…’ She crossed her arms as a rush of anger filled the bottom of her belly. How dare he think he could come into her life after running out on her and presume that he still knew her, knew what she liked, how she liked her home? ‘You don’t know me anymore.’
He pointed towards the socket for the aerial, the bare space which had clearly once held the television. ‘You don’t even have a TV.’
‘Maybe I don’t want a TV.’ She blew a strand of hair from her face, scrunching her nose as it fell again.
‘Okay.’ Murray shrugged and began to walk towards the kitchen again before pausing, looking down at his feet and turning back to face her.
‘No, I’m not going to take that for an answer.
You’re clearly thoroughly annoyed with me for some unknown reason, but that’s neither here nor there. I’m ringing the police.’
‘Pardon?’ The police? Why would he ring them?
‘You heard. I’m ringing the police.’ He pulled his mobile from his pocket and unlocked it, the screen lighting up.
‘You can’t. I’ve not done anything. I…’
Catching her eye, Murray frowned. ‘I’m ringing because you’ve clearly been burgled and, for one reason or another, you haven’t alerted them yet.’
Slumping her shoulders, Ellie looked at the floor, focusing on a knot in the wooden floorboards exposed by the lack of the rug.
‘I’ve not been burgled. My ex took it all.
He thinks that because I was the one who got to renew the tenancy on the cottage, it meant he could take everything else.
’ There, she’d said it. She sounded pathetic even to her own ears.
‘Your ex took all your stuff?’
‘That’s what I said, wasn’t it?’ Ellie rubbed her forehead, the headache well and truly settling in. Please don’t make me repeat myself.
Murray looked around the room again as though Rick might just jump out from behind the sofa or appear in the kitchen doorway. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t need to say anything.’ She perched on the edge of the sofa, clasping her hands between her knees. ‘In fact, I’d rather you didn’t. I feel stupid enough as it is.’
‘Why?’ Coming to sit next to her, he placed his mobile carefully on the cushion beside him.
‘Why what? Why do I feel stupid? Because he took everything, and I’ve had days to demand it back.
Yes, I rang and messaged him the day after, but I haven’t since.
I’ve just left him to it.’ She dug her fingernail into her palm.
‘Or are you asking why he took everything in the first place?’ She took a sharp breath in and continued, not waiting for an answer.
What did it matter what he’d meant by his question?
He’d no doubt ask the next straight after, anyway.
‘Because he and his new girlfriend – mistress, if you like – moved in together and didn’t have anything to furnish their new place with. ’
‘So they took everything?’
‘They took everything.’ Ellie nodded in agreement.
‘They even took the saucepans?’ He shook his head in disbelief.
‘They took everything.’ Emphasising the word ‘everything’, Ellie hoped he’d get the picture, but, just to be sure, she continued. ‘The TV, the coffee table, the rug, even the laundry basket.’
Slumping back against the sofa cushions, Murray rubbed the palm of his hand across his face. ‘The laundry basket. You are kidding, aren’t you?’
She shook her head, the anger she’d felt towards him quickly dissipating. ‘But don’t worry, they left me a set of cutlery for one, my clothes, the kettle and the loo roll holder.’
‘Heck, that’s rough.’
‘Thanks.’ She collapsed back against the sofa cushions too and looked at him. ‘I don’t need you feeling sorry for me, though. I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me.’
Turning to face her, he gave her a little smile. ‘He left you the loo roll holder?’
‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded as a sudden urge to laugh washed over her. Struggling to keep it in, her shoulders began to shake. ‘He left me the loo roll holder.’
Murray let out a loud guffaw. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It’s…’ She shrugged, unsure how to explain herself. ‘I don’t know what it is, but it’s something.’
‘He sounds a delightful bloke. Very… umm… particular about where he hangs his toilet paper. And it seems your loo roll holder just didn’t live up to his standards.’
Leaning forward, she gasped for breath as she continued to laugh. As fast as the urge had begun, though, it disappeared, and she flung herself back against the sofa cushions, covering her face with her hands.
‘Come on.’
She felt the cushions shift beside her and lowered her hands as Murray stood up and held his hands out towards her. ‘Where?’
‘Well, we can’t cook here. Not unless we want a one-pot stew the size of the tiny saucepan you have left, so I’m taking you out for dinner.’
‘You are?’
‘Yes.’ He nodded firmly, his hands still held out towards her.
‘Okay.’ Why not? It was hardly worth her refusing and spending the evening sitting here alone, mulling everything over. She might as well go out and let Murray take her mind off the sorry state her life was in.
Placing her hands in his, she allowed herself to be pulled to standing.
As they stood, their hands still clasped together, Ellie searched his eyes.
Could he feel it too? That unmistakable electricity between them?
The tingle of her skin against his? Briefly closing her eyes, she gently pulled her hands away. Of course he couldn’t.