As her parents’ house was just off the main road, she opened up the boot and let Tess jump straight out. ‘Come on, girl, let’s see what the oldies have to say for themselves.’
Her father opened the door so promptly, it was as if he’d been hiding behind it in wait and the delicious smell of roast beef filled the air. Her favourite. She hoped her mother had done Yorkshire puddings as well.
‘Tess, look at you.’ He beamed at Ella. ‘Gosh, she’s looking good. Lovely glossy coat.’
‘Really? Since when did you become an expert on dog care?’ she asked, her eyes dancing with pleasure at the sight of her slightly stooped father.
‘You pick these things up,’ he grinned back, his eyes surrounded by laughter lines. ‘And if you . . . ’
‘ . . . say things with enough conviction, people will believe you.’ She finished for him. He was a great one for making things up rather than admitting he didn’t actually know the answer.
‘How are you, love? I must say,’ he said enfolding her in a hug, one of his familiar lambswool sweaters tickling her nose, ‘you are looking very well.’ He led the way down the hall to the big kitchen diner which took up the whole of the back of the house.
‘Don’t you start, Dad. The way Mum carries on you’d think I was at death’s door when I came back a few weeks ago.’ Although to be honest compared to how she felt then, she now felt a million times better. Maybe her soul had been in terminal decline.
‘Tea, dear?’
‘Yes, please.’
He nodded as Ella settled at the breakfast bar of the big open plan kitchen and watched him potter around the kitchen intermittently stopping to pet Tess, who like an animated hoover was busy chasing crumbs around the floor and sniffing every nook and cranny.
‘Where’s Mum?’ Ella asked.
‘She’s just popped next door to see Marion. She’ll be back in a minute.’
‘I wanted to know if I could borrow the framed Cuthbert pictures you’ve got on the stairs.’ She’d given all the illustrations from her very first book to her parents. ‘I’m giving a talk to the WI.’
‘Of course, love, but make sure you bring them all back. You’re mother’s very proud of them.’ He winked. ‘And I think they’re pretty good, too.’
Once the tea was made, he came to sit down next to her at the long walnut wood bench in the centre of the kitchen and Tess, having made a thorough exploration of the room, decided that her work was done and flopped at Ella’s feet.
‘So how’s village life?’
‘Better than I thought it would be.’ And completely different. How on earth had she thought she could hide herself away and keep herself to herself? ‘I’ve got to know a few people. Even have a bit of a social life. It’s been easier to get to know people than I thought it would be.’
‘Oh, that’s having a dog for you. Ah, Shirley.’
Ella’s mother returned and hurried over to kiss her cheek. ‘Ella, darling, sorry I wasn’t here. You look wonderful. Yes, Howard, I’d love a cup of tea.’
With long suffering grace, Ella’s dad stood up to make tea and her mother promptly appropriated the high wooden stool he’d just vacated. ‘I’ll make you one, then,’ he said, with a teasing wink.
Ella watched them. Married for thirty years, they still held hands when they went out for walks, teased each other about who was the best cook and laughed a lot. A good team. An image of Devon bending over George came into her head. Holding her hand at the top of the Beacon. Standing over her drawing board admiring her mice.
There was a lot to be said for teamwork.
And there was no doubt that her mother and father had been in cahoots. Ella sat up straighter, she was going to enjoy this.
‘So, Mum, how long has Magda had Tess. Since she was a puppy?’
Her parents answered simultaneously, her dad saying, ‘Yes. From a litter in Leighton Buzzard,’ while her mother said, ‘No, she was from Chiltern Dogs, the rescue people.’
Her mother’s cheeks turned fiery red. ‘Maybe I got that wrong. I didn’t really pay attention. How is living in the cottage? Is it warm enough for you?’ she asked.
‘It’s fine. I’ve had a couple of fires in the evening. Tess is a real hearth dog, she loves to lie on the rug right in front of the tiles. Of course she’s chewed it quite a lot but then I’m sure she did that before, so Magda is used to it. And the furniture.’ Ella was on a roll now. ‘The kitchen table is a bit of a mess, especially the leg by the French doors. That one seems to be her particular favourite.’
Her mother paled under her make-up. ‘That’s not good,’ she said faintly, with an imploring look at her husband.
‘She’s also scratched some of the wallpaper off the wall in the downstairs toilet. Bit naughty, especially as Magda spent a fortune on it.’
‘Did she?’ Her father swallowed hard.
‘Yes. It’s lovely. Osborne and Little. It took her ages to track it down. It was over a hundred pounds a roll. You all right, Mum?’ Ella asked, as her mother spluttered, turning slightly pink in the face.
It was hard to keep her own face straight and she very nearly relented, but seriously, who dumped a dog on their daughter? They deserved a bit of payback for those early few sleepless nights with Tess howling the place down, for the awful morning when she’d been terrorrised by the local fisherman and for bingate. They should try cleaning up a pot of coleslaw spread across every corner of a kitchen.
Her mother’s hands flapped at Dad, in a desperate say-something signal while his face contorted through a variety of ill at ease expressions.
‘The thing is, darling . . . ’ her mother started desperately looking towards her father for back-up. ‘Howard . . . ’
‘Don’t look at me, it wasn’t my idea,’ he said, holding up his arms in a gesture absolving all responsibility.
‘Well, you were the one that suggested we gave Tess to Ella,’ her mother pointed out almost apologetically.
‘Yes, but I wasn’t being serious. And you were the one that offered to have the dog in the first place.’ Dad’s eyes twinkled. ‘And you said you were sure Magda wouldn’t mind.’
Her mother dropped her head. ‘Well, poor Mrs Bosworth couldn’t afford kennels and it’s just as well we did take Tess in, I had no idea she was going to be in hospital for so long or that it was going to take all this time for her to recuperate. And I’m sorry she’s been so much bother. I . . . ’ she shrugged helplessly, ‘didn’t realise she’d cause so many problems.’
‘Yes. Well.’ Ella gave her mother a stern look as she tried to bite back another smile. ‘It’s not been easy.’
‘Really. Now I feel bad, but Mrs Bosworth really needed the help.’
Guilt pricked at Ella. So typical of Mum. She was absolutely incapable of not offering to help someone in need. She and Dad had often joked that they should tape her mother’s hands to her side to stop her agreeing to volunteer for things so often.
‘So,’ Ella hid her amusement and put on her crown prosecution cross-examination face. ‘You’re telling me that this dog doesn’t belong to Magda at all.’
‘No, dear.’ Her mother straightened, which made Ella smile. Now she had fessed up, she was going to take it on the chin. ‘She belongs to Mrs Bosworth.’
‘Mrs Bosworth? And why do I have Mrs Bosworth’s dog?’
Her dad stepped in, putting his arm around his wife’s shoulder. ‘We were worried about you. We didn’t like the idea of you living there on your own.’
‘I’ve lived in some pretty dodgy parts of London over the years.’
‘We were more worried about you being . . . lonely. You weren’t . . . your usual self.’
Both her parents looked distinctly uncomfortable but her father tucked his arm around his wife.
A fist closed around Ella’s heart and she swallowed. Ducking down to hide the tears, she stroked Tess’s head again. They were right. She hadn’t been herself.
She slipped off the stool and went to hug them both. Despite her doing her absolute best to shut them out and keep them at a distance while she grieved, they’d known her well enough to know the depth of her misery but respected her enough to leave her be. Tess had been their compromise.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered as their arms linked around her and an overwhelming sense of love and security filled her heart. As they stood there, she felt Tess wriggle in beside her legs as if to say don’t forget about me, I’m one of the family too. They all looked down and laughed at Tess staring with those beseeching amber eyes up at them.
The roast beef was every bit as good as it smelled and as Ella pushed her chair out from the table to slump in satiated happiness, her mother jumped up and insisted she stay and talk to her father while she made coffee.
‘In fact, why don’t you two go and sit in the comfy seats in the lounge and I’ll bring it through.’
Ella and her father settled amicably into the big squashy sofas in the L-shaped lounge.
‘So, what’s this tax letter you said you’d had?’ he asked.
‘I nearly forgot. I brought it with me. I’ve no idea what it’s for. Patrick’s always looked after that sort of thing.’
His mouth pinched in disapproval. ‘You shouldn’t leave your tax affairs to anyone but your accountant.’
‘I don’t have an accountant. I didn’t think I needed one, it’s not as if I earn anything. The shop paid me and I got a payslip with my tax showing on it.’ She delved into the handbag at her side, trying to find the letter.
‘Yes, but what about your Cuthbert Mouse earnings. That’s separate so you need to declare it.’
‘Like I said, Patrick took care of all that.’ She pulled the letter out, crumpled from being stuffed into the side pocket. ‘He’s used to that sort of thing, so he’s always done the business side of things with my publisher.’ She’d have to speak to her publisher and explain that arrangement had changed. It was time to start extricating her life from Patrick’s and find out how much money he owed her from the sales of her pictures. And then there were the merchandise deals and what about the royalties from her books? Had he been honest about those in the past?
She smoothed the letter out and pushed it over to her father.
His forehead immediately crumpled with consternation. ‘Ella, this is a tax demand and your statement on account.’
‘All I know is it’s a lot of money. Seven thousand pounds. Do I have to pay it?’
‘Yes, you do,’ he said emphatically. ‘This is based on whatever was submitted on your tax return.’
Shit, she didn’t regret hitting Patrick over the head with the picture. It looked as if he owed her far more than she’d first thought. First thing tomorrow she was going to get on the phone and speak to her publisher. Perhaps she should ask Devon for the details of that solicitor too.
‘Here we go. Coffee. And some nice chocolate.’ Ella’s mother put the tray down on the coffee table and busied herself arranging coasters on the polished table before pouring out heavily scented rich dark filter coffee from a huge cafetière.
Her father picked up a section of the Sunday paper and started reading. Ella and her mother chatted, catching up. It had been a while since Ella felt so completely relaxed.
‘So do you know what you will do when Magda comes back?’ asked her mother – destroying, in one fell swoop, any sense of peace. Ella paused, taking her time and a long thoughtful sip of coffee.
‘I don’t know yet.’
‘Do you think you’ll go back to London?’
The million-dollar question. And now Ella didn’t know the answer. A few weeks ago she wouldn’t have even had to think about it.
She hoped her non-committal shrug would deter any more questions.
‘Magda’s not back for ages. I’ve got plenty of time to think about what I’m going to do.’
‘Well, I must say, you look a lot better. Eating properly, no doubt. Would you like to take some beef back with you? For sandwiches. Be lovely cold with some horseradish. Or mustard. I’ve got both in the cupboard from the WI Food Fayre last week. I’ll get you some.’
Ella watched her mother bustle away out to the kitchen. Her dad’s eyes had drooped shut and the paper lowered. She smiled as he dozed.
They both started when her mother gave an outraged shriek.
‘No! Bad dog.’
Rising rapidly to her feet, Ella tossed a quick glance at her father as she followed her mother’s voice.
‘What’s wrong?’ her father asked.
‘Dratted animal.’ Ella’s mother stood glowering, hands on her hips, by an empty chopping board. ‘That dog has eaten the rest of the beef.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked her father, his brow wrinkling in disbelieving confusion.
Ella sighed and looked over at Tess who had slunk over to the bi-fold doors leading out into the garden, pressing up against the glass in a misguided attempt to blend into the background. It didn’t work. Her hangdog expression shouted her guilt.
‘Mum, I’m really sorry.’ And then because she still owed them for dumping Tess on her, she couldn’t resist winding them up a bit more. ‘She’s a nightmare. You can’t turn your back on her for a moment. She eats anything and everything. You can’t leave a thing out.’
Ella was pleased to see that her mother looked suitably chagrined, although she did feel a bit guilty maligning Tess quite so much. The poor dog’s tail had drooped and her head dipped. Definitely the picture of shame.