‘Morning!’
Ella took in a flurry of bouncing curls, lots of freckles and a wide, smiley mouth. After four of the most boring days on earth, the unexpected interruption was quite welcome.
‘Sorry to arrive unannounced but I promised Magda I’d call in. Have you heard from her? Is she having a fab time? Isn’t she amazing, going off on an adventure like that at her age?’
Ella blinked at the barrage of questions and then braced herself as Tess knocked her sideways in her enthusiasm to say hello to the stranger on the doorstep.
‘Sorry, I’m Bets and this is Dexter.’ She bent to pet Tess who was already nose to nose with the brown pointer on a lead at her side. ‘Aren’t you a darling?’ she grabbed her collar and read the brass tag, ‘Tess. I love Labs, they’re so friendly. Dexter’s very handsome but he can be a bit snooty.’ She gave his ears a quick stroke. ‘But he’s lovely really, aren’t you, sweetie?’
All Ella could do was nod. Her brain hadn’t caught up yet.
‘So how are you settling in? Sorry, I should have called in earlier but I thought I’d give you a bit of time and I’ve been so busy and then . . . ’ she pulled out a dark blue envelope on which could be seen Magda’s familiar silver script.
Ella’s heart sank. Now what?
To Ella’s surprise and faint annoyance, the girl didn’t hand it over but slipped out a piece of paper and read it, before giving Ella a beaming smile.
‘You’re on the rota for the last Sunday of the month which is ages away but I thought you’d like some warning. You’ll want plenty of time to prepare. And you might want some help.’ She folded the paper back into the envelope and put it in the pocket of her rather hideous anorak that style had not so much forgotten but turned its back on. Then the girl grinned, her whole face lighting up and for a moment Ella forgot how irritating and loud and busy the girl was, in the sudden desire to capture all that energy and rosy cheeked openness. Form and shape, in an abstract way. Her fingers itched to pick up a paintbrush. Ironic when she’d spent the last two days trying to paint and failing miserably.
‘Have you done flowers before? Magda said you were arty so wouldn’t mind.’
Ella was so busy imagining painting that she wasn’t really paying attention. She’d tried watercolours of flowers in the past, maybe she could have another go at them. ‘I have tried, but they always look a bit rubbish.’ She took another look at Bets’ face. Lovely rose and cream complexion. Gorgeous luminous skin.
‘Oh, the vicar won’t mind, he’s grateful they get done at all.’ Bets turned around, trying to untangle the lead which had become wrapped around her leg as the two dogs weighed each other up, circling and sniffing, tails wagging furiously.
‘The vicar?’ Ella blinked again. Was this girl completely mad?
‘Yes. Reverend Richard. He’s a bit scatty but he has all the old dears running around after him, keeping him on the straight and narrow. Between you and me, I think he cultivates it a bit.’ She tugged at the lead as Dexter tried to follow Tess down the garden. ‘Although I did wonder if there might be something going on between him and Magda. He seemed quite keen on her.’
‘The vicar at the church. He’s very nice but he can be a bit disorganised.’ Bets said it slowly, eyeing Ella with doubt.
‘No, back up a bit. The flowers.’
‘Magda put you down on the church flower rota. To arrange them. In the church.’
Ella straightened. ‘You have to be kidding! I’m twentynine, not seventy-flaming-nine. I’m not doing bloody flower arranging.’
Bets gave her an irrepressible grin. ‘Well, I did wonder when Magda said it, but she was very insistent. She said you’d surpass yourself – or maybe she meant surprise yourself. Don’t worry, I can give you a hand. We’ll muddle through.’
Before Ella could open her mouth to explain that she really, really wasn’t doing the church flowers, Bets had moved on.
‘Do you need anything? Came down from London, didn’t you?’
Ella tensed. Did this girl know everything about her?
‘Have you been out yet today?’ Bets laughed. ‘What am I like?’ She nodded towards Ella’s pyjamas. ‘Of course you haven’t. I’m just taking Dex out now for his walk. You can come and bring Tess.’
‘I haven’t even got dressed or showered.’ And she had work to do.
‘No worries, I’ll sit in the garden and wait.’
Short of shutting and bolting the door, which seemed rather excessive, Ella decided there wasn’t a lot she could do but dress and join the slightly annoying Bets. She was the type of person who would just keep knocking at the door until you answered it. Besides, the dog needed a walk. To Ella’s shame it hadn’t had a proper one for a couple of days. Not after the cow pat fiasco. She’d got into the habit of going to the park around the corner, sitting on a bench and letting the dog charge about the field. It seemed happy enough.
Once dressed, Ella stepped out of the front door to find that Bets had been joined by George.
‘Ella, this is George. He lives next door,’ said Bets.
‘We’ve met, old friends we are,’ announced George addressing the whole garden. ‘Morning, m’dear. How’s that leg? All better now? I must say you’re a quiet one. Not a peep out of her,’ he said to Bets. ‘Have a nice walk. I’m just off to pick up my paper. Do you want anything from the village shop?’
‘That’s kind, but I’m all right thanks.’
‘Jolly good.’ He saluted the pair of them and snapped his garden gate shut.
‘He’s such a sweetie,’ observed Bets. ‘Always on the go. You wouldn’t believe he’s nearly eighty.’
Ella looked back at the sprightly figure trotting down the path. Eighty? ‘Really. He looks good.’ Although probably because the pace of life was so much slower out here; he hadn’t had a chance to wear himself out.
‘So, Magda says you’re an artist. What kind of art do you do?’ They left the cottage garden and turned right along the high street, if you could call it that. With both dogs on leads, they strolled past the pub which looked quaint and villagey, not really Ella’s kind of thing. Give her a wine bar any day. ‘Magda didn’t say, so there’s been lots of speculation. Do you do portraits? Will we see any famous celebrities trooping up your garden path? That was Doris next door-but-one’s idea.’
‘Portraits? Why would she think that?’ Ella shook her head.
‘Bless her, she’s partial to the odd copy of Hello.’ Bets laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘I think she had visions of David and Victoria Beckham popping by for a sitting.’
The mind boggled. People around here clearly didn’t have enough to do.
‘I told her that was wishful thinking. Then Greta, she runs the pub,’ Bets nodded her head at the building they’d just passed, ‘said you probably do those horrible daubs that pass for art.’ She grinned. ‘She’s hoping you’re a bit of a hippie with plaits. Shake up the place a bit.’
‘God, no.’ Ella had always rather hoped she rocked the chic, sophisticated Sam Taylor-Johnson look, if a slightly dishevelled version at the moment. With a sigh she realised just how much she’d let herself go in the last month.
‘This way.’ Bets wheeled off the road, following a public footpath sign. Once through the gate, she unclipped Dexter’s lead. ‘They’ll be fine down here.’
‘George was hoping you might do structural stuff. I think he had ideas about a spot of welding. And Devon, my boss, said you’d probably be very ordinary and not an artist at all but someone who does graphic design.’
Devon sounded disagreeable and uncomfortably close to the mark.
‘Having a quiet day, were you?’ asked Ella with withering sarcasm, or at least she hoped it was. Didn’t they have anything better to do with their lives?
‘Erm . . . ’ Bets’ peaches and cream complexion turned scarlet, ‘not exactly. Magda likes to . . . well, you know. Hold gatherings and . . . ’ she scanned the sky as if an answer might burst forthwith from the clouds. ‘It just came up. Parish council meeting. Yes, that was it. Dull old meeting.’
Ella ducked her head, hiding her expression from the other girl as she bent and tried to unclip the lead.
‘Sadly, they’re all going to be very disappointed, I’m not an artist. I wanted to be,’ she turned her head but not before she caught Bets’ surprisingly candid gaze, ‘it just didn’t happen.’ A heap of canvases, piled like collapsed dominoes, testament to her failure, currently languished in storage. She had no idea why she paid good money to keep on storing them.
Bets sighed. ‘That must be disappointing. Trying, wanting and it never happening.’
Ella shot her a startled look, surprised by the other girl’s insight.
‘I wanted to be an actress once.’ There was a hollowness in Bets’ voice completely at odds with her open, candid personality. The brilliant lightbulb personality dimmed for a moment and then she was off again with her runaway questions.
‘So what do you do, then? Just so that I can reassure the hotbed of gossip that is Wilsgrave.’
‘I’m an illustrator. Children’s books.’
Bets put her hands on her hips, the loose lead chinking against her thigh, amusement dancing around her eyes, the earlier moment of melancholy completely banished. ‘That sounds pretty artistic to me.’ She gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Crikey, I can’t even choose the right colour wall paint.’ The dramatic shudder she gave hinted at past decorating disasters. ‘What sort of things do you draw?’
‘Mice, mainly. Children’s books about a family of dormice.’
‘Not Cuthbert Mouse and all his brothers and sister in the shoe?’ Bets’ eyes widened, her mouth opening in a gasp.
‘Yes,’ Ella said warily. Patrick had always preferred her to keep the whole mouse thing low key.
Her eyes widened. ‘Seriously? Wow. You mean you’re her? You do those drawings. Get outta here. Why didn’t Magda tell us that?’ She punched Ella’s arm. ‘That’s seriously cool. I love those little fellas. My nephews go nuts for those books.’
‘Oh.’ A vivid blush rose up her cheeks and for a minute she didn’t know what to say in the face of such obvious and rather surprising enthusiasm. No one, apart from her parents and her publisher, had ever been that fulsome and of course they were all biased. ‘Thank you.’
‘Wow. I can’t get over it. You really do all those little drawings. The hats. I just love those little hats.’
Ella couldn’t resist all that vibrant enthusiasm and grinned back at Bets. ‘Cuthbert’s just got himself a fez.’ Although she hadn’t quite managed to capture one decent drawing that brought to life the little mouse’s delight with his latest hat.
‘Aww, how cute. I’d love to see that.’
‘Why don’t you pop round?’ The words just ran out of her mouth. She’d never showed her drawings to anyone before they went to the publisher, but people weren’t usually this interested.
‘Really? Can I?’ Bets’ delight was so infectious there was no way Ella could retract the offer.
‘Er, yeah. Why not?’ Ella shrugged, crossing her fingers in her pocket.
‘Just wait till I tell Fred and Harry. My sister’s kids. They’re going to be so jealous.’ She punched the air. ‘You made my day. Now let me show you around the village.’
‘Village hall.’ Bets pointed to the timber-clad building to the right of the green that was sporting a rather vivid pair of purple wooden doors. She saw Ella’s surprise. ‘Local company did one of those community days. The managing director was colour blind. Tarted the place up a bit, but weren’t able to do much about the roof. We’ve got a fundraising drive on to pay for the repairs. On a wet day the toddler group has to slalom around the buckets on their trikes. But there’s always loads going on there. Rehearsals. Yoga. Line dancing. Jumble sales. Brownies. Scouts. The allotment society. I tell you, you won’t be bored living here.’
Ella almost stopped dead. The other girl had to be kidding.
They circled the green, the dogs stopping to mark their route with annoying frequency. Surely they were all peed out.
‘Church, obviously. Some bits are quite old. We get the occasional coachload of tourists, although they’re more interested in the duck pond. Makes a nice picture. They don’t realise that Martha, the local witch, was drowned in there.’
‘Local witch?’ Ella’s voice was scornful. She tugged ineffectually at the dog’s lead, as Tess had suddenly decided to investigate a shrub they’d just walked past and have yet another pee.
‘Magda discovered her. She’s been tracing her family tree. Richard the vicar has been helping her by going through the church registers. They found all these records going back to the 1750s and that her great, great, great well however many, grandmother, Martha, was tried for witchcraft by being ducked in the pond.’
‘That explains a lot,’ muttered Ella under her breath, the herb bags and wannabe spells suddenly all making sense.
Bets in full flow didn’t stop to draw breath. ‘Of course she didn’t survive. Well, she couldn’t because if she had they’d have said she was a witch and killed her anyway. Lose–lose situation.’ She paused. ‘But a bit sad.’
Ella gave the pond a second glance. With its fringe of reeds and white Aylesbury ducks floating on the surface, it looked too innocuous to be associated with anything that grim.
Bets waved her hand. ‘Cricket club. I expect George will have you on teas. They like their Victoria sponge.’
Ella pinched her lips together but didn’t say anything. Her cooking skills stopped at the door of a microwave.
‘And that’s the shop, with the bow window and Georgian panes. Sells everything you could possibly need. It was going to close but we set up a community trust to run it and we all take it in turns. We’ll have to get you on the rota. Oi Dexter, stop that.’ The dog was nosing at a discarded crisp packet and half a bar of chocolate in the middle of the road, closely shadowed by the black Labrador. ‘Don’t let them near the chocolate.’ Bets shot her a quick look. ‘You do know chocolate is poisonous to dogs.’
Ella, with her work cut out trying to haul the dog away from the revolting melted mess, nodded, not sure if Bets was serious or not.
She put out a hand and stopped Bets, feeling a lot like Alice in Wonderland.
‘I can’t be on the rota – I’ve got to work. I haven’t got time.’
‘But you have to,’ said Bets with a pugnacious tilt to her chin, looking rather surprised. ‘Everyone does. Otherwise the shop won’t survive. Lots of people rely on it. It’s not something you can pick and choose to do.’
‘Really,’ said Ella with haughty disdain. With her village pronouncements, this girl was starting to get on her nerves. Well, they could forget it. Ella had work to do and she planned to keep herself to herself.
The footpath they were on opened out onto a stretch of water.
‘I had no idea there was a river around here.’
Bets let out a gurgle of laughter. ‘There isn’t, this is the canal. Goes all the way to Birmingham. Oh, Dexter! Do you have to? You dreadful animal.’ She shook her head, her curls bouncing with suppressed laughter, as with a huge splash, the pointer bounced into the water and Tess went in straight after him.
Ella stopped dead, unable to see through the sudden spray of water. ‘Oh God, can they swim?’
Bets tutted. ‘Of course they can.’
Ella blushed. She hated feeling stupid and wrong-footed. Her worst nightmare was being laughed at. ‘Can they get out again? Should we get them out?’ Ella stood on the bank feeling faintly alarmed. How did you get a dog out of the water? Would she have to go in after Tess?
‘They’ll be fine.’
‘But the sides are quite steep.’
‘They’ll scramble out, don’t worry.’
‘Really?’ Ella didn’t believe her.
‘Yes – come on, they’ll follow us when they get bored. Or give them a call.’
Yeah, right. ‘Tess! Come here.’
Nothing. Ella gave Bets a look.
‘Pitch your voice a bit higher. Like this: Tess!’
Of course Tess immediately looked up and came splashing towards them, her tail spraying drops of water.
‘Dogs hear things on a higher register.’
‘Oh.’ Ella felt more useless than ever. She cast a look back at the two wet dogs with dread.
‘You’ll soon get the hang of it, a bit like living here. Magda said you were going to fit in just like magic.’
Ella had no idea why Magda would think that.
‘There’s plenty going on for you to do. Although word of warning. The WI are always on the lookout for new members. If Audrey comes anywhere near you, make a run for it.’
‘And how will I know who Audrey is?’
‘You’ll know, believe me. You’ll know. Think Barbara Cartland crossed with Margaret Thatcher and you’ll be sprinting faster than Usain Bolt.’
Ella suspected that she’d be barricading her door once she got home and not venturing out into the village again.
By the time they’d walked what seemed like the entire length of the Grand Union Canal and returned to stand by the small gate at the front of Magda’s cottage, Ella’s legs were doing a fair impression of jelly and her knee ached while Bets was still full of beans.
‘Now, is there anything else I need to tell you?’ mused Bets, running her hand along the top of the gate.
Surely not? Ella almost shuddered.
‘I must go,’ she said quickly before this girl thought of anything else she had to get involved in.
She opened the gate and let the filthy dog pad a few steps ahead of her. With a look over her shoulder, Tess paused and then let loose with an almighty shake of her rounded barrel belly, sending spatters of water arcing up into the air.
‘Yeuw,’ Ella screeched as gritty drops hailed across on her face and covered her pale pink jeans in muddy splodges.
Bets burst out laughing. ‘You gotta love ’em.’ She ruffled Dexter’s ears affectionately. ‘Pains in the butt and just adorable.’
Hmm, the jury was most definitely out on that one. Gritting her teeth, Ella tried to make it appear as if being drenched in stagnant smelly water was an everyday occurrence while fighting hard to block the easy tears that threatened. What was that hideous smell? Eau de Canal mixed with the odour of wet sweaters. Avoiding breathing through her nose, she grabbed Tess’s collar, intending to drag the dog straight into the kitchen.
‘This has been great. I enjoyed having the company. I’ll knock again later in the week and we can go out with the dogs again. Oh, and there’s a darts match coming up. You must come to that. It’ll be a great way to meet some of the people in the village.’
Ella gave her a weak smile.