‘Oh God, you weren’t kidding. This is truly awful.’ Ella stared at the horrible colour on Bets’ kitchen walls. ‘I’m not sure I can even describe this colour. What were you thinking?’ The awful walls notwithstanding, Bets’ living space was wonderful. ‘Thank God you didn’t paint the lounge.’ It would have taken for ever to redo, with those high walls reaching up to the wooden rafters.
Bets’ home was part of a series of converted barns which had been split into several properties. Hers was the smallest of five.
‘The kitchen aside, this place is lovely. I had no idea from the outside.’
‘Thanks.’ Bets giggled. ‘The paint looked different in the shop, it was only when I started, I realised how awful it was and then it was too late to stop. I figured if I kept going it might not be quite so bad when it dried. I was wrong.’
‘Good job you’ve got me then. Look, I even brought you your own painting overalls.’ Ella had found two pairs when she was sorting through Magda’s shed and was already wearing a set.
Bets’ idea of a paintbrush was a semi-bald, sad-looking thing which Ella immediately vetoed in horror. ‘You can’t use that thing! What have you been doing with it?’
Bets looked innocent. ‘I might have used it to clean out a leaky gutter.’
Ella didn’t bother responding to that. ‘And you need proper masking tape, not Sellotape.’ She put her hands on her hips and gave Bets a mock glare. ‘You’re hopeless.’
‘Can’t we just paint carefully around the edges?’
‘No, we’re going to do this properly. You’ll thank me later.’
‘I think I preferred you before. You’ve turned into a bully overnight.’
‘I like to do things properly.’ And she really wanted to do a good job for Bets. ‘Lucky for you I went to B&Q and I have proper nice new paintbrushes and I dug out Magda’s roller and paint trays. Come on, get this overall on. We’ve got work to do.’
Bets dashed off to change, leaving Ella to plan where they’d start. It was a good-sized kitchen with one wall of cabinets in cream wood which she’d describe as ‘modern cottage’. The run of units was intersected in the middle with a range-style cooker and opposite was a long wooden island in the centre of which was a ceramic sink. Ella knew from a brief module on design at college that this was a particularly well-designed kitchen. She guessed that a fridge would be situated as part of the perfect kitchen triangle of sink, cooker and fridge.
Luckily the wall with the cabinets and cooker was tiled, so had escaped the hideous colour. There were really only two walls that had been painted – unfortunately one of them ran the whole length of the room and then beyond into a little corridor.
‘Ta-dah.’ Bets jumped into the room, hands whipping through the air in a series of karate poses like a little white ninja, making Ella laugh.
She did a quick twirl. ‘I feel like we’re in a girl band or something. We need music. What do you fancy?’
‘Anything?’ Ella’s mind was on where she’d start with the masking tape along the skirting. ‘I think we’ll do this big wall first.’
Bets was busy scrolling through her iPhone. ‘Here you go. Painting music. I’ve made a playlist.’ She plugged the phone into a docking station as Ella poured paint into the tray.
The duck-egg blue colour was going to look lovely in here and co-ordinate beautifully with the cupboards.
‘Here you go,’ Ella handed the roller to Bets.
‘Great,’ she took it enthusiastically and pressed the play button. ‘I’ll be Beyoncé, you can be Rihanna next.’ The opening bars of ‘Crazy in Love’ filled the room at top volume. With rolling hips, Bets pranced towards the wall holding the roller up to her face and began to sing along, before flattening herself against the wall writhing suggestively. Ella burst out laughing.
Bets whipped round. ‘Uh oh uh oh,’ she sang, the roller zig-zagging up and down the wall in time to the music. Her bottom stuck out, waggling with great enthusiasm, as she circled her hips. ‘You’re mad,’ said Ella shaking her head but unable to stop her shoulders shimmying. The pumping beat had her feet tapping and she snatched up her paintbrush and danced over to the wall. ‘Da de de da, da da,’ they both sang. Bets’ moves grew even more outrageous and silly and before long Ella matched her, swivelling her hips, shaking her shoulders.
As the music built to a crescendo they danced along together, each trying to outdo the other and painted along, every now and then, the paintbrush and roller doubling as a microphone to join in the chorus.
Beyoncé gave way to Rihanna’s ‘Umbrella’ which led to Bets marching around waving the roller in the air for a little while, before she loaded it up again with paint, then managing to get a big blob of paint on her nose, which she brushed off casually with a laugh. Ella’s face actually ached from smiling and laughing so much.
Gradually things calmed down as Bets’ playlist led on to Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Taylor Swift and a couple of catchy dance numbers that Ella had never heard of.
By eleven-thirty, they’d worked steadily and completed a whole wall.
‘Oh my, it’s looking so much better already. Why did I live with cat-sick for so long?’
‘Because you’re an idiot,’ teased Ella, from the crouched position where she’d bent to paint the line around the skirting board. They’d agreed that she did the fiddly bits around the skirting boards and ceilings because she had a steadier hand and as Bets freely admitted, she was far too slapdash for that sort of job.
‘I need a cup of tea,’ said Ella, pleased that she’d reached the last part of the edge of the wall she was doing and was able to stand upright. The ache in her back reminded her she wasn’t used to working like this.
‘I have to admit, boss lady, you know what you’re doing. I would have slapped a coat of paint straight on. None of this washing the walls down first.’
As they drank huge earthenware mugs of tea, Ella noticed the fine lines around Bets’ mouth. She looked tired and a little drawn as she bustled around behind the island counter.
‘Thanks for helping me. Living here must be very different to what you’re used to. Your friend was very elegant.’ Bets touched her auburn curls self-consciously and stood awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other. ‘And grownup and self-possessed. I bet all the girls on Jack’s course are like that.’
The uncertainty on her face surprised and upset Ella. A stab of guilt hit her as she contrasted Bets’ easy acceptance of Britta’s affectations. Bets had a far more generous nature.
Giving in to a sudden whim, Ella crossed to her and gave her a quick hug. ‘No one on the planet is like Britta.’ Ella sighed and shook her head. ‘And do you know what? She’s not much of a friend, whereas you have been a very good friend to me from day one without ever asking for anything in return. Thank you.’
‘Oh, God, Ella. Please don’t be nice to me today.’ Her face crumpled and Ella saw the madcap dancing and earlier energy for what it was.
‘I’m so mad and so upset with Jack right now.’ Bets clenched her fists. ‘I just want to cry and then punch him. We’ve been together for so long. I can cope with him being away most of the time. I just get on with it. But this is the second time he’s cancelled. I’m worried he’s gone off me. Met lots of girls who are much more interesting. Who’ve done more? Been to places? Cleverer than me.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Ella, hoping that she sounded reassuring. What did she know? She had no idea what Jack was like. For all she knew, he could have umpteen girlfriends down in Bristol. ‘He’s probably just busy with exams and things. I guess it must be pretty intensive training to be a vet.’
Bets gave a sad little shrug. ‘I guess.’
Ella wanted to put the sparkle back into Bets.
‘Right, come on. Ready for round two? I fancy something a bit heavier, have you got any Muse? We need a big thumping base.’
‘What a difference already,’ said Devon chugging down a beer and leaning against the island. He’d arrived after all the work had been done although to be fair, he’d had both dogs all day to keep them out of the way. They were now charging around the garden like a pair of dervishes.
‘Do you take commissions, Ella? I could do with some advice for next door. Looks like I’m going to be here for quite some time.’
‘Next door?’
‘Yes, Dad did up the barns a few years ago. Turned them into flats and cottages as holiday lets and for Jack and I to live in if we ever came home. There are five in all. Bets lucked out and got the smallest.’
‘I only need the smallest. I’m here on my own most of the time.’ Her face fell. ‘Although I couldn’t afford to live anywhere half as nice as this and not on my own. Better hope Jack doesn’t dump me.’
‘Hey! Don’t be silly. That’s not going to happen.’ Devon gave her a brotherly nudge. ‘Dad wouldn’t hear of it. Where else would he get the best veterinary nurse this side of the universe?’
Ella winced. He’d rather missed the point. She and Bets exchanged a glance which clearly said, men!
That odd look was back on Bets’ face. ‘So, it’s Saturday night. As we’re all a bunch of Saturday night losers, anyone fancy a takeaway and a Trivial Pursuit marathon?’
‘Sounds perfect,’ commented Devon, tipping back his bottle and swallowing the last of his beer. ‘Count me in.’
Ella considered her options. Being alone in the cottage or here. ‘Sounds good to me too.’
‘Tell you what.’ Bets beamed at them both. ‘You two take the dogs for a walk. And I’ll nip into Tring and pick up a takeaway. What do you fancy? Chinese? Pizza? Curry?’
‘Curry!’ Devon and Ella spoke in unison with equal vehemence as if there was no other choice. Ella caught his eye and they shared a smile.
‘OK. Message received and understood,’ teased Bets. ‘I’ve got a menu somewhere.’
They chose their food and then Ella left, heading down the road with Tess to change into some sensible shoes and a warmer coat. Ella couldn’t help feeling that Bets had engineered things, somewhat.
Predictably Tess was beside herself, twisting in and out of Ella’s legs. ‘Just let me change, you dumb dog. And I promise, we’ll go straight out.’ As she glanced in the mirror in the hallway she winced. There was just time to wipe away the spots of paint which had congregated in an acne rush across the top of her cheeks, run a brush through her hair, which had become flattened unbecomingly to her skull by her scarf, and maybe pop a quick slick of lipstick on. Oh God, had Devon really seen her like this? He was used to Marina and despite what he’d told her, she’d seen the woman on TV. The woman was the patron saint of animal care and bloody gorgeous to boot.
Perhaps she’d brush on the barest touch of mascara. Nothing to do with Devon. She pulled a face at herself, noting the nothingness of her hairstyle. It reminded her she hadn’t had a haircut in weeks and that she usually never left the house without make-up. There was nothing wrong with wanting to look nice for herself. Nothing at all, she told herself firmly as she added a quick touch of discreet eyeliner to her eyelids and toyed with her blusher brush. A tad of colour wouldn’t do any harm. She examined the results in the mirror. Her heart sank. What was she thinking? She was going on a dog walk, for God’s sake.
The doorbell rang. She frowned at herself. It was too bloody late now. With a last look in the mirror, she tossed her head and marched down the stairs. Devon probably wouldn’t even notice and if he did, so what. It certainly wasn’t for his benefit.
Grabbing Tess’s lead, she opened the front door. Tess immediately came padding through. The dog had bat ears or extra sensory perception when Ella so much as touched the lead.
‘Hi, be with you in a sec.’ She pulled on her wellies and coat, and grabbed a scarf. ‘Right, all set.’
She switched on the porch light to guide her home later.
‘You look nice,’ said Devon.
Ella blushed. ‘Saturday night. Thought I’d make an effort for a change.’
Devon nodded and thankfully didn’t say anything else about it. ‘Which way shall we go. Quick circuit of the reservoir? Bets said she’d order the takeaway and go pick it up at seven, so we’ve got plenty of time.’
‘Don’t mind.’ Ella lifted her shoulders. ‘Reservoir sounds good . . . as long as the fishermen have all gone.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.’ He drew himself up tall, pretending to draw a sword. It struck her that he seemed lighter and less unhappy.
‘How was the painting today?’
‘Got loads done.’
‘What? In between the two of you strutting your stuff?’
Ella closed her eyes. ‘You saw us?’
‘Might have had a sneaky peek through the window on my way out.’
‘Please tell me you didn’t.’
‘Oh, I did.’ His mouth twisted in a teasing smile. ‘You both looked like you were having a great time. Was she OK?’
Ella exchanged a sad smile with him. ‘She’s really unhappy, isn’t she?’
‘Yeah, but very good at putting on a brave face. The happier and more exuberant she is, the more she’s trying to hide.’
‘I thought as much. Her and Jack, they’re very young, I guess.’
‘Yup. Too young, although for all that, I always thought they fit well. I believed they might make it through, but what do I know. I thought I’d got it all sussed and the happy-ever-after in sight.’ The bleak look was back on his face.
‘Did it not go well at the bank today?’
‘How did you guess?’
‘Because if it had you would have said something and the fact that you haven’t is probably to do with Bets being unhappy and not wanting to upset her any more.’
‘The bank basically told me to get stuffed. I’ve got no collateral. I can’t wait to tell Marina that one. Another ball-busting trip to London for me this week.’
‘But what about all the extra work you’ve been doing?’
‘As the bank manager pointed out, what if I got kicked in the leg by a bull and couldn’t work for three months? How would the bank get their money then?’
‘Seems rather short sighted of them.’
‘It’s all about risk. And I’m a poor risk.’
‘Could anyone else lend you the money?’ She thought of the holiday cottages – perhaps Geoffrey had some spare cash.
‘I can’t ask Dad. He’s already helping me out by letting me live rent-free in the barn and run the practice for him. Usually you have to buy into a practice. I’m not even sure what he’s living on at the moment.’ He plunged his hands into his hair and looked up at the night sky. ‘Oh God, it’s all such a mess. Marina’s still making noises about us getting back together again.’
‘Oh.’ Ella didn’t know what to say. Should she be encouraging? She had no idea how he felt about Marina. Did he still love her? How could he not – she looked stunning, super-organised, efficient, successful, perfect girlfriend material. He hadn’t given much away about her.
‘I know part of it is because she’s realised how much she relied on me for help with diagnosis. She’s had a couple of complaints apparently from viewers about duff information. She never was much of an academic. Scraped through her degree. Not that she’d ever admit that to anyone. And spending so much time filming, she’s not kept up with new research the way she should.’
‘So do you think you might go back to her?’ Ella asked tentatively.
‘Who knows?’ He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Financially, it would make life easier if I did go back. And I could practise the area of medicine I really want to get into.’
Poor Devon, he sounded as confused as she was. It made her feel guilty. She needed to speak to Patrick, not keep him hanging on. Speaking freely to Devon the other day had made her realise she couldn’t ever go back. Aside from not wanting the same as her ultimately, he hadn’t done anything wrong. It wasn’t as if they’d ever talked about family or marriage. They’d each made their own assumptions.
They continued their walk as daylight slipped into dusk. It gave the reservoir an ethereal feel, mist floating over the water, ducks hugging the edge.
‘I’ve started painting again.’ Ella didn’t know where the words came from or why she thought Devon would be interested but they burst out of her as she watched the wind tossing the water up into a crossfire of ripples.
‘What, different from the mice?’ asked Devon without missing a beat.
‘Very different. Landscapes. Watercolours even. I’ve never done them before. They never appealed. I think they might qualify as real art.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘Not that they’d get any critical acclaim or anything but I’m doing them because I can’t not.’
‘Would you believe me if I said that’s why I practise veterinary science? I can’t not do it any more. I think that’s why it was easy to leave Marina. I hated what I was doing. Clipping guinea pig toenails. Trying to persuade owners of overweight pugs to put them on diets. Whereas, even at four in the morning,’ he shot her a mischievous look, ‘I don’t mind getting out of bed to help deliver a breeched foal. I never ever thought of doing anything else and I loved my job until moving to Islington. London was where it all went wrong.’
‘But you’re getting back on your feet now.’
‘I would be if I could just clear this debt. Looks like I’ll be doing locum work on call for quite some time, which I don’t mind but it’s just knackering and then I worry I might make a mistake through sheer tiredness. I nearly totalled the car last week coming back from stitching a sheep back together in Eaton Bray.’
‘That’s not good, Devon.’
‘What is it about you? I spill all my secrets.’
‘Maybe I’m a secret agent in disguise,’ suggested Ella, with a quick light-hearted grin.
‘You’re certainly a champion painter. I can’t believe how much better Bets’ kitchen looks.’
‘Hmm, and I can’t believe that you didn’t show up until beer o’clock,’ teased Ella.
‘Ah, I have a good excuse, Buster the knicker-stealing dog. Unfortunately he ate them.’
‘Seriously?’ Ella tilted her head, checking his expression. She had a feeling he was having her on.
‘Yup.’
‘Eeuw. What do you do about that?’
‘Emergency op to retrieve them. If it weren’t for my financial situation I’d be investing in keyhole surgery equipment and using cameras. Something like that can be retrieved, the same way they went in. Although they don’t come out in the same state they went in.’
Ella shuddered. ‘I dread to think. Do you get that sort of thing a lot?’ She’d never really considered the sort of things he dealt with on a daily basis.
‘On a reasonably regular basis.’
‘How much does one of those cameras cost?’
‘Tens of thousands of pounds and there’s the training, although I had started that.’ A dark expression doused the enthusiasm on his face. ‘I started the training when . . . well, you know I told you the other day about the weasel. The course finished early that day, the lecturer wasn’t well . . . cliché of clichés I came home earlier than expected to find Madam and the weasel giving our bed a through road test.’ He screwed up his face. ‘For a little guy he certainly had some stamina.
‘I did carry on the training but then it quickly became apparent that at the moment I can’t afford it or the equipment, but one day. It can make such a difference . . . ’ he trailed off. ‘Sorry, I’m getting evangelical.’
‘No, it’s interesting. So how does it make a difference?’
‘Well it’s like keyhole surgery for humans. Instead of an incision and cutting through layers of tissue, which has to be stitched up afterwards and takes days or weeks to recover, this is one small hole. You try explaining to a dog that they can’t move or pull at the stitches. This makes things much easier for them.’
When they returned and towelled off the two dogs, they found Bets waiting for them in the newly painted kitchen and the air full of the scent of spices.
‘That smells good,’ groaned Devon in appreciation.
‘Bhajis. Chicken tikka.’ Bets rummaged in the brown paper bag, pulling little plastic tubs out with the aplomb of a magician pulling rabbits from a hat. ‘Bombay potato. Sag aloo. Chicken balti. Ella, would you mind grabbing some plates from that cupboard next to the cooker? Devon, you’re on drinks. Beer and wine in the fridge.’
Ella sank gratefully into the sofa with a loaded plate on her knees. The only sound in the room was the chink of forks on the plates and the odd moan of satisfied greed.
‘This is delicious,’ she said, finishing off the last mouthful, her stomach heavy and full. The sofa was so comfortable she could have happily curled up and snoozed right there. She couldn’t remember an evening like it since she’d left college. Devon and Bets were easy, undemanding company. They chatted idly about the village, the dogs, the best walks and the forthcoming village fete.
Bets wasn’t going to let go of her idea of playing Trivial Pursuit. Ella caught Devon’s eye as she busied herself setting up the board. It felt like they were indulgent parents giving in to a child that need humouring.
‘Right, who’s the oldest between you two?’
‘Bets, you’re the youngest, you can go first and then we can go round clockwise. I’m not going to embarrass a lady by asking her age. It’s just not what a gentleman does.’
Bets snorted rudely. ‘Gentleman! Huh!’ But she threw the dice pretty promptly before any further argument. ‘Five. I’ll go for yellow. That’s History, isn’t it?’
‘How many old pennies were there in a shilling?’ Devon read the card.
‘What?’ Bets groaned. ‘That’s impossible.’
‘Dad would know it.’ Devon offered.
‘Thanks, that’s no help.’
‘Make a guess,’ suggested Ella, who had no idea. ‘Think of old weights and measures. They were all funny amounts.’
‘You’re not supposed to give her clues.’ Devon pulled a face at her.
‘Twelve,’ said Bets.
Devon glared at Ella. ‘See.’
‘How was that a clue? I was trying to get Bets to think laterally.’
‘It was a clue because there are twelve inches in a foot,’ crowed Bets, wriggling in her seat with a smug shoulder shimmy.
‘Oops,’ said Ella, shooting Devon a mischievous grin. ‘But she could have gone for the number of ounces in a pound.’
They carried on playing and when Ella and Devon were level, with almost a full pie of pieces each, Ella felt her head start to droop. Thankfully the game was nearly over.
Bets threw again and landed on an orange square. ‘Blast. I’m rubbish at sport. Jack normally answers these ones.’ Her track record this evening suggested she wasn’t much better at history, science, art and literature or geography.
Devon read the card. ‘Yeah, I think you might need to phone a friend on this one. Who was the first simultaneous holder of the Masters, Open, US Open and PGA titles?’
‘What?’ She stuck her chin out and scrunched up her face, looking like a recalcitrant toddler.
‘I’m going to have to hurry you for an answer.’
‘I have no idea. Andre Agassi.’
‘No! That’s tennis, you numpty. The Masters is golf.’
‘Well, how was I supposed to know that?’
Devon shook his head and threw the dice. ‘Science, green.’
Bets pulled out a card. ‘I don’t flipping believe it. What items of cricket equipment share their name with mammals that fly? Well, that’s a tricky one.’
‘Bat?’ Devon didn’t even try to hide his glee.
‘I think you should have another one because that was too easy.’ Bets grumbled.
He threw again this time, landing on a brown one. ‘Art and Lit. I hate these. Will you be my phone a friend?’ he asked Ella.
She looked pointedly at her piece and his. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Which artist had a blue period?’
‘What, was he depressed?’ asked Devon.
‘There were plenty of those,’ quipped Ella.
‘I bet you know this one, don’t you?’
‘I could hazard a guess,’ hedged Ella with a smug grin.
‘Do you know, you two ought to go on a quiz team together,’ Bets suddenly said. ‘You’d be brilliant. There’s that one at the Old Boot in Tring. Ella could do the brown, pink and yellow and you could the blue, green and orange.’
‘And I can do the brown, too,’ said Devon with a sudden triumphant grin. ‘Picasso.’
‘Oh bugger, he’s right.’
Devon threw the dice again.
‘Blue. What river shares its name with a Teletubby?’
‘That’s not a real question,’ howled Devon, trying to snatch the card from Bets.
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Oh God, I don’t know their names. Handbag one, smiley one, short fat red one and the other one.’
‘I’ll have to hurry you.’
Devon glared. ‘Orinoco.’
‘No, that’s a Womble.’
Ella threw the dice quickly. ‘Art and Lit, brown please.’
Bets groaned again. ‘What aged while Dorian Gray stayed young?’
Ella laughed. ‘A portrait in the attic.’
‘Ah, not quite correct. It says his portrait.’ She held the card up with a teasing smirk on her face. ‘So not any old portrait. I’m not sure I can give you this one.’
Ella raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re going to play dirty?’
‘Hell, yeah.’ Bets grinned.
‘Bring it on,’ replied Ella.
‘Oh Lord, spare me, are you two going to get all competitive over the last piece of pie?’
‘Of course,’ Ella winked at Bets. ‘To the death.’
‘As you almost got that one right, you can throw again,’ said Bets magnanimously, with a regal nod which was spoilt by the sudden dimples that appeared in her cheek.
‘Pink,’ said Ella as she counted out three places. ‘What subject’s that?’
‘Entertainment,’ said Devon.
‘Which rock ’n’ roller introduced the duck walk?’ asked Bets immediately flipping the card over to check the answer. ‘Hmm, never knew that.’
Ella knew that tactic. Bets was trying to put her off. She had no idea but she wasn’t going down without a fight. ‘Duckbill Hailey.’
Bets sniggered.
‘Chick Berry,’ suggested Devon.
‘Quacky Wilson,’ Ella added.
‘Bo Paddley.’
By this time they were all laughing so hard, the game was abandoned.
As Ella walked back to the house, Tess padding beside her, she smiled before wincing. She’d laughed so much today she’d pulled something in her side but she was still smiling now. She couldn’t remember when she had so much fun and she’d been to some much more supposedly fun, sophisticated events in her time. She also had a sneaking suspicion Bets was attempting a bit of matchmaking.