The Way to a Woman's Heart (38 page)

They all nodded.

‘No one wants to change anything?’

They all shook their heads.

‘Goody,’ Poll said. ‘Now all we have to do is practise and practise and rehearse and rehearse and work out timings – over and over again.’

And they all groaned.

‘Do you know what we need?’ Ash said in the farmhouse kitchen, at the end of the week, after a particularly gruelling
rehearsal when Ella knew that she’d never, ever make another Eve’s pudding in her life once this was all over.

‘A thunderstorm?’ Ella pushed her damp hair away from her face and held up her hands in front of the constantly whirring fan, and wondered for the umpteenth time why, while the non-stop sultry weather made her look like a wilting wet rag, Ash still managed to look cool, relaxed, sexy and darkly devastating. ‘A deluge of non-stop rain? Sub-zero temperatures? The new ice age?’

‘A night out.’

Here we go again, Ella thought. It’s the feeling sorry for me thing again. ‘Thanks, but we’ve been through all this before and it didn’t end well, did it? Anyway, I’ve been out,’ she said. ‘And at night. Two days ago, remember?’

Ash nodded. ‘Oh, yes – the night the team from Cambridge made the all-pink Barbie menu.’

Their life, Ella thought with amusement, was now completely charted by
Dewberrys’ Dinners
.

‘Yep, that night. Anyway, because Poll was having a meal with her friends Mitzi and Zillah and Joss, she gave me a lift into Hazy Hassocks and I finally met up with those “nice girls” who work with Mitzi.’

‘And were they? Nice girls?’

‘Amber and Cleo? Yes, really nice. They’re both married and both very loved-up, but despite not having an awful lot in common to start with, we had a drink or three at the Faery Glen in Hassocks and got on really well – and I’ll definitely see them again.’

‘Great.’

‘Funnily enough, once we’d got through a couple of bottles of wine, they told me lots of things about the magic and stuff that goes on round here.’

‘Yeah, a couple of bottles of wine can do that. It makes you talk about rubbish – but very seriously. You didn’t mention Trixie, did you?’

Ella shook her head. ‘No – well, yes, but nothing specific, not the dandelion firefighters or the
Midsummer Night’s Dream
fairy thing. They’d both watched the programme and only noticed – like everyone else – just a slight technical hitch, a bit of a blip that lasted for an eye blink… but I was telling them about the set-up here and said that Trixie believed in fairies.’

‘I bet that went down well.’

‘It was OK, actually. Amber laughed. She said when she moved down here to Fiddlesticks from Manchester several years ago she thought everyone in the village was barking because they all believed in the moon and stars. They held – and still do – astral magic ceremonies. And in the end she’s just accepted it because, although there was no rational explanation, things
did
and still
do
happen.’

‘Belief without any understanding or explanation?’ Ash frowned. ‘ Isn’t that just the easy way out? You know, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em?’

‘Maybe.’ Ella shrugged. ‘But Cleo lives in Lovers Knot and she said there was a similar thing there too. Only with magical wine. And then there’s all sorts of rumours about herbal magic in Hazy Hassocks and love potions in Bagley-cum-Russet.’

‘So I’ve heard since I’ve been doing the ice-cream rounds.’ Ash grinned. ‘Completely bonkers, of course. But I guess it actually makes Trixie’s fairy stuff quite mild by comparison.’

‘Mmm… I’ve decided that it’s just all old country folklore.’ Ella nodded. ‘But it was reassuring to talk about it. It doesn’t make what happened here seem quite so weird somehow. Anyway – long story short – you see, you don’t have to worry about me any more. I’ve met some friends and I’m getting myself a life in the country.’

‘Great, again. And about time, but you can have another night out, can’t you? Poll’s OK about you having evenings out?’

‘Of course. She always puts George to bed anyway, and does the bedtime stuff. She’d be glad if I got out more.’

‘Fantastic. So – will you?’

‘Not just because you feel sorry for me? Or think I’m pining for Mark in London or something and need cheering up?’

‘I certainly don’t feel sorry for you, as I’ve said before, and I’m not asking you out because I think you need cheering up, OK? Although, I know you must miss Mark.’

Ella just shrugged in a non-committal way. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘Mmm, Trixie has told me lots about him, and Poll has filled in the gaps.’

Oh, great.

‘As they know less than nothing about him I shouldn’t believe all you hear… Um, so, are we going out with Onyx, too?’

‘No, just you and me. I’ve got tickets for a show, and, as we’ve done nothing but cook, and think about cooking, and talk about cooking all week, I thought it would be nice to do something completely different.’

Just for a moment, Ella allowed the treacherous love thing to sneak in. Then she ignored it. She was getting good at that. But doing a show – a phrase she hadn’t heard since leaving London – sounded pretty good, whatever Ash’s reasons for inviting her. And she’d be out with him, wouldn’t she? Just the two of them. For once. Oh, why not?

‘OK.’ She smiled. ‘As long as Onyx doesn’t mind.’

‘Why should she? She likes you a lot. She knows we’re friends.’

‘OK again – that sounds great and I’d love to. When?

Where? Are we eating out or do I eat first? And what do I wear? I mean, is it “dressing for the theatre” or what?’

‘Hardly. It’s only in Winterbrook. But yes, dressy rather than jeans, but, more importantly, whatever you’re comfortable in. And there’s a meal of sorts provided. And it’s tomorrow.’

Pushing away the nagging ‘tomorrow never comes’ phrase, and trying not to skip round the kitchen, Ella took a deep breath and started making yet another Eve’s pudding.

She was ready early. George, who had watched her dress in her pale-blue and silver strappy frock and her flat silver sandals, and add silver jewellery, and carefully do her hair and make-up, said she looked like the Little Mermaid.

Hoping this was a compliment, Ella swept down the staircases.

‘Wow,’ Ash grinned. ‘You look lovely.’

‘Thanks. You’ve scrubbed up nicely, too.’

‘Right, princess, your carriage awaits.’

Ella stepped out of Hideaway’s front door and shrieked with laughter. ‘We’re going in the ice-cream van?’

‘Sorry, yes. I’ve let the MOT lapse on my car – got it booked in for next week – so, until then this is all I’ve got.’

‘We could take my car,’ Ella said. ‘I don’t mind driving.’

‘But then you wouldn’t be able to have a drink, and I really think you deserve a drink. I’m not fussed myself – a
couple of shandys will be fine for me.’ Ash looked quite worried. ‘Or will you be embarrassed arriving in the van?’

‘Embarrassed? Not at all.’ Ella headed for the Neapolitan stripes with the cornet rampant. ‘It’ll add to the excitement.’

‘No, Ella, look, I’ll ask Poll or Billy to give us a lift and we can get a cab home.’

‘No way. This is much more fun and I’m more than happy to travel in the van. But –’ she stopped and looked over her shoulder ‘– only if you let me play the jingly-jangly music all the way into Winterbrook.’

‘And have every child for miles around throwing themselves at us demanding a Bazooma?’ Ash pulled a face as he hauled himself into the driving seat. ‘I don’t think so. But if you really must, give it a little blast now.’

Ella did. She wasn’t sure if it was the ‘Cancan’ or ‘Greensleeves’ but it made them both laugh.

And they were still laughing when they arrived outside Winterbrook’s Masonic Hall.

Slotting the ice-cream van in between a gleaming row of BMWs and Mercedes, they joined the well-dressed crowds heading for the entrance.

‘Oh!’ Ella blinked at the embossed poster outside as they queued to hand over their tickets. ‘It’s a charity do. Lovely – Winterbrook Homeless Shelter – that’s great. Poll would definitely approve. Oh…’

Ash looked at her quizzically.

‘Cleo, who I met the other night, mentioned this charity, I’m sure she did. I know she and her husband, er, Dylan, I think she said, do an awful lot of work for the homeless.’

‘Maybe she’ll be here tonight, then?’ Ash said as they neared the imposing doors. ‘And her husband. You’ll have to introduce me to them.’

Ella shook her head. ‘I don’t think they’d be here. I gathered they work behind the scenes more. Hands on. They do soup runs and things like that. I sort of gathered that Dylan comes from a mega rich family and he’s a patron – and donates oodles of dosh to these charities – but likes to stay anonymously in the background so that he doesn’t lose his street cred with the rough sleepers and so that people don’t think he’s angling for a lot of back-patting.’

‘Sounds like a nice guy. Oh, right, here we are – in we go.’

Inside the ancient gilded, chandeliered and curlicued Masonic Hall, colonial fans swirled and the myriad tables were covered in white linen, sparkling with crystal glasses and silver cutlery and tastefully decorated with white roses and tall, flickering candles.

‘How pretty!’ Ella looked around in amazement. ‘Blimey, Ash, thanks for this. What an amazing place. Is this our table? Oh, yes, there’s your name – mine must be “guest”? Oh, and wow – thank you.’ She smiled gratefully at him as he pulled out her chair for her. When had Mark ever done that for her? Never, ever…

There were four other couples round their table, strangers to both of them, and they all did the polite nodding and sketchy smile thing – with the addition of a discreet ‘haven’t I seen you somewhere before?’ stare. Ella was getting used to it. Since
Dewberrys’ Dinners
, she’d had loads of those looks.

Ella surreptitiously eyed the other men round the table: pleasant, middle-aged and comfy looking, none of them could hold a candle to Ash. In fact, she thought, gazing round the crowds in the loudly buzzing hall, Ash was the most gorgeous man in the place by a country mile.

The women at their table clearly thought so, and Ella felt a little frisson of pride. So what if she’d only borrowed him for tonight. No one else knew that, did they?

Ella, thoroughly enjoying herself, continued to people-watch as the crowds still poured in. At one end of the hall was a stage covered by long velvet curtains, but there was no dance floor area. So, not a dinner dance, then… presumably it was more of a cabaret, and maybe with some speeches. She settled back in her chair as the waiters bustled round, filling glasses.

‘It’s a set menu.’ Ash leaned towards her. ‘Not very inspiring – corporate catering – but presumably the idea is to make money for the charity, not splash out on ritzy food.’

‘It looks OK to me. Very OK. Pumpkin soup.’ She chuckled. ‘Sorry, that reminds me of Billy. Oh, and roast chicken for the carnivores and mushroom risotto for the veggies, and crème brûlée for pud. Oh, and cheese and biscuits. Lovely – I’m starving.’

‘You usually are,’ Ash laughed. ‘I had to tick boxes for the main course. I went for the veggie option for both of us – Poll’s influence is really rubbing off – I hope that’s OK.’

‘Perfectly. I haven’t eaten meat since I arrived at Hideaway. Don’t think I ever will again, actually. Ash, thanks so much for this. It’s great.’

‘My pleasure.’ He smiled.

Ella’s heart did crazy somersaults and she suddenly felt quite giddy with lust. She took a huge gulp from her wine glass. There, in control again – well, sort of…

As soon as the last of the latecomers were seated, and she and Ash had properly introduced themselves round their table, and discussed their appearance on
Dewberrys’ Dinners
with their very impressed companions, who all realised now that’s why they’d seemed so familiar, the waiters circulated with the first course.

The footlights suddenly blazed into life, illuminating the front of the stage. A very made-up woman in a sequinned frock and big glasses strode up to a lectern and tapped the microphone.

‘Please carry on eating.’ Her elegantly modulated voice spiralled tinnily high up into the beautifully stuccoed ceiling. ‘I just want to say, on behalf of the committee of Winterbrook Homeless Shelter, that I’m delighted to see you all here and to thank you so much for your overwhelming generosity. Your money will make such a difference to refurbishing and extending our existing drop-in centre and in building our planned hostel. We’ve decided that entertainment while you eat is the best way to show
our
appreciation, so I do hope you’ll enjoy our little supper show. And, of course, if you wish to leave another small – or not so small – token of
your
appreciation in the buckets by the doors when you leave, we’ll be even more delighted.’