The Way to a Woman's Heart (23 page)

‘There.’ She handed the ices to Roller Woman and turned to operate the soft ice cream’s levers and buttons. ‘Just the cornet to do now… Have you heard what happened to, er, sorry, forgotten her name – the girl having the baby?’

‘Fat Stacey?’ Roller Woman skilfully manhandled her ice creams. ‘Had a boy. In the amberlance. On a lay-by on the A34. Mind, it wouldn’t be the first time Stace’s been legs apart in a lay-by on the A34.’

Ella sniggered and grabbed the soft ice lever.

Roller Woman nodded her elaborate hairdo. ‘She’s called him Clint. She says it’s after one of the parrermedickals. We all reckons it’s after that cowboy builder what came to do her gutters back last autumn. Mother and baby doing well – Oops, love. Mind what you’re doing.’

Soft ice cream squirted merrily up Ella’s arms, down her
tunic and on to the floor. With a little scream, she leaned on the lever.

Ice cream cascaded across the van in a projectile spurt.

‘Down for on! Up for off!’ Ash yelled, trying not to laugh.

‘What? Oooh – sorry – mind out!’

Too late.

A whoosh of sticky gunge spat non-stop across the tiny interior and glooped down every bit of Ash that was available, hovered teasingly for a moment, then slithered on to the floor.

‘Eeek! Sorry.’ Ella bit her lip. ‘Oh, look, it’s all over you.’

‘Not quite
all
over.’

Still giggling, they mopped up what they could with paper towels and slid and slipped round the tiny space.

Trying very hard not to touch him too much, Ella shook her head. ‘I really am sorry. I was laughing so much I just got a bit muddled about which button was on and which was off.’

‘The story of my life,’ Ash said, licking his fingers in a way that made Ella go quite unnecessarily warm. ‘Anyway, it’s fine. It’s vanilla. I like vanilla. Can’t stand the pistachio.’

Abandoning Roller Woman’s cone, Ella tried again. As Ash was still slowly licking ice cream from his fingers it was very hard to concentrate.

This time, having got to grips with the controls, the ice cream swirled out in a satisfying peak. With a squelch of strawberry sauce and two flakes rammed into the resulting mess, Ella triumphantly handed it over.

Roller Woman paid – all in small change – and, with a final red-hot look at Ash, elbowed her way out of the queue.

Wiping soft ice cream from her face and between her fingers, Ella grinned at Ash. ‘Sorry, er, you’ve still got some in your hair.’

‘So have you. Maybe we should do mutual grooming?’

They stared at one another.

‘Three Ninety-nine Swirlers please, duck, when you’ve a-finished your courting – some of us are wilting out here.’

Ella dragged her gaze away from Ash, selected three cornets with trembling hands, and after two false starts, managed to produce three reasonable cones.

‘Great.’ Ash, still picking bits of congealing ice cream from his fabulous eyelashes, smiled. ‘Looks like you’ve got the hang of it. Only another nine thousand customers to serve and we might be able to belt back to Hideaway and get this lot showered off.’

Pushing very, very vivid images of showers and smeared ice cream to the deep, dark recesses of her mind, Ella concentrated. Almost.

‘Are you really OK doing this?’ she asked, her voice muffled by the freezer as she reached for a clutch of Bazoomas. ‘Selling ice creams? I mean, you’re a chef.’

‘Qualify that with unemployed and broke.’ Ash sprinkled crushed nuts on to an oyster ice. ‘And, yes, now I’m getting used to it a bit more. As a stopgap it’ll do me fine. Ask me again in the depths of winter if I haven’t got a restaurant job by then and I might say differently.’

Ella hauled herself from the freezer and leaned out of the window. ‘Will you still be at Hideaway in the winter, do you reckon?’

‘Probably. I can’t see anything else on the horizon – and I love it there.’

‘Me too. But I’ll be leaving in August.’

‘Will you? Why? Poll loves you, and so does George.’

‘George will start playgroup in September.’

‘Yes, but surely that won’t be all day? And you’re hardworking, funny, easy-going.’

Stunning, sexy and desirable might have been better, Ella thought, but as accolades went, those weren’t too bad at all.

‘Because I’m only on a three-month contract, which I haven’t actually signed yet, and –’

‘And there’s the boyfriend and another life back in London.’ Ash picked up a box of cones and ripped it open. ‘Of course, I’d forgotten that you weren’t a permanent fixture like the rest of us. I’ve… well, I’ve got used to having you around.’

‘Thanks.’ Confused, she played it for laughs and gave a mock curtsey, which was pretty difficult in the confined space. ‘You’re too, too kind.’

He grinned at her. ‘No I’m not, I’ve got a nasty streak like everyone else, but I’m always honest.’

As the sun spiralled on to the van, the temperature inside soared. Sweating and sticky, with Ash pressed up beside her, Ella had never been happier in her life.

Eventually the Angel Meadows crowd dwindled away.

‘Thanks.’ Ash wiped his face on his sleeve. ‘You were great. I couldn’t have managed that lot alone without there being a riot.’

‘Even though I’ve made you look like you only need a flake in each ear to make you into a walking, talking cornet?’

‘Yeah, well, there are always drawbacks to any job.’

Ella concentrated on unpeeling now rigid strands of hair away from her cheeks. ‘I had no idea selling ice creams was such hard work.’

‘It isn’t, usually. Most places are fairly uneventful. But they’re pretty cut off round here and on a day like this every man and his dog wants a Bazooma or a Splashy Scoff, or, sadly, a Swirler. Right, back to Hideaway, I think, to get cleaned up and maybe grab a bite to eat before my next stint. God, I’m really, really sticky, are you?’

Knowing there was no decent answer she could make to that remark, Ella simply nodded, tugged off the ice-cream-spattered jacket, and scrambled from the Maxi’s van.

Ugh, she thought, as she started her car, her fingers were all stiff and encrusted. Disgusting. Then, following Ash and the cornet rampant in the direction of Hideaway Farm, and feeling very, very hot and very, very uncomfortable, she gave a huge whoop of delight.

It had been the best fun ever…

They were just turning into Cattle Drovers Passage when Ella noticed Billy’s cowpat Allegro ahead of them.

She smiled to herself. George was waving from the back seat.

She waved back. Poll stuck a languid arm from the passenger side too. How lovely, Ella thought. Poll, Billy and George together. Like a real little family. Of course Billy was a bit older than Poll, but that didn’t matter a jot. She really, really hoped that they’d realise soon that they were simply made for each other.

She sighed as she turned into the farmyard. If only her own love life was as simple to resolve.

Oh…

There was a strange car parked outside the farmhouse. A sleek silver car. And Trixie, accompanied by the dogs, cats and two chickens, was standing in the doorway at the top of the stone steps looking agitated.

Dear God, Ella thought, parking between Billy’s Allegro and the Maxi’s van, don’t let her have done something awful like burned the kitchen down or fricasséed Roy…

‘Visitors?’ Poll queried, blinking at the car then squinting at Ella in the full glare of the sun. ‘Were we expecting anyone? Was there anything in the diary? And what happened to you – oh, and Ash? You’re both all sticky and crusty.’

‘Don’t ask and, no, we weren’t expecting anyone.’

Billy and Ash, emerging from their respective drivers’ seats, also looked puzzled. George, having no such worries about unexpected visitors, simply hurled himself at the dogs, cats and hens, then finally at Trixie, clamouring about his paddling pool adventures and begging for his lunch.

‘Thank heavens you’re back.’ Trixie flapped her hands at them all. ‘You said you weren’t expecting anyone but they seemed to think you were so I’ve put them in the family sitting room. I hope that’s all right, dear? I said you wouldn’t be long. I wasn’t sure what else to do with them.’

Ella looked at Poll. Poll looked at Billy.

Ash looked at Trixie. ‘Who, Trixie? Who have you put in the sitting room?’

Trixie shrugged. ‘Don’t rightly know their names, dear, although they did tell me. Something strange like Alphonse and Dee-Dee I think. They said they’d written and made a date for today.’

Ella and Ash exchanged bewildered glances.

‘More waifs and strays?’ Billy queried, looking at Poll. ‘You didn’t mention you’d invited more.’

‘I haven’t. And I don’t know anyone called Alphonse and Dee-Dee,’ Poll said. ‘And if they’d written a letter I’d have answered it.’

No you wouldn’t, Ella thought. It was probably still sitting, unopened, in the teetering pile on the three-legged table waiting to be sorted. By her.

‘Where are they from, Trixie? Did they tell you?’

Trixie brightened. ‘Oh, yes. Didn’t I say, dear? It’s really exciting, dear. They’re from
Dewberrys’ Dinners
.’

There was a stunned silence in the farmyard. Everyone looked at everyone else.

Ella, although totally wrong-footed, found her voice first. ‘Poll… ?’

‘I didn’t know it was today they were coming. The letter said the ninth.’

‘Today is the ninth. You’ve still left the calendar on Derwentwater, haven’t you?’

Poll nodded.

‘After everything you said, you
wrote
to them?’ Ella asked, shocked. ‘You’ve applied to be on
Dewberrys’ Dinners
?’

Poll nodded again.

‘And they wrote back and you
opened
the letter?’

‘Well, yes –’ Poll looked embarrassed ‘– I did, actually. You see, I was waiting for the reply, and I recognised the logo – I didn’t want anyone to see it. Especially if it was a no thank you. I, um, didn’t want anyone to know I’d written.’

‘Er.’ Billy cleared his throat. ‘Actually, I rang ’em up.’

‘I emailed,’ Ash said softly.

Ella grinned. ‘OK – and I sent a text.’

They looked at one another and laughed. The laughter bordered on hysterical.

Trixie stared at them all. ‘What’s going on, dears? Would someone please explain to me what’s going on?’

‘Later,’ Poll said, suddenly looking very excited. ‘Later, I promise I’ll tell you everything, Trixie. Right now, I suppose we ought to go and meet, um, Alphonse and Dee-Dee.’

‘Maybe Ella and I should get cleaned up first,’ Ash said.

‘No time,’ Poll said airily. ‘We’ve got to see them together.

All for one and one for all. Come along.’

Ella and Ash exchanged amused glances. Poll, for once, seemed fully in command of the situation.

They trooped into the peaches and cream sitting room, with Trixie, George and assorted animals bringing up the rear. Alphonse and Dee-Dee were sitting on one of the big squashy sofas.

One male, one female. One black, one white. Both thin. Both beautiful. One with a laptop. One with a clipboard and iPhone.

‘I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.’ Poll stepped forward, holding out a hand. ‘I’m Poll Andrews. I, um, was expecting you a little later.’

Ella tried not to laugh.

The man stood up and shook hands. ‘We did say twelve thirty in the letter. And it took us ages to find you. We got
lost – even with the sat nav. Hideaway is the right name for this place. Anyway, we’re here now. I’m Anthony and this is Denise, we’re
Dewberrys’ Dinners
researchers, and it’s a pleasure to meet you at last.’

‘And you.’ Poll smiled. ‘Now, can I get anyone a drink? Something to eat? It’s so hot, isn’t it? Would you like some iced lemonade? It’s home-made.’

Please, Ella thought, surreptitiously scratching at the congealed ice cream in her crevices. Gallons of the stuff.

‘No thank you,’ Denise said briskly. ‘We have our own supplies in the car. We’re not here to be bribed by applicants.’