The Way to a Woman's Heart

by Christina Jones

  ‘And you sort of clicked?’

  ‘Well, it certainly wasn’t love.’ Poll sighed. ‘But we at least both thought we’d found what we were looking for. We were, of course, both bitterly disappointed.’

  Oh, God… Ella scraped up the last of her scrambled eggs. How truly dreadful. ‘Still, at least you got George and this lovely house from your marriage.’

  ‘George, yes.’ Poll nodded, pushing her wayward hair behind her ears and helping George with a tricky bit of colouring-in. ‘And from George, I got the unconditional loving and being loved that I’d always craved. But the house, no. Hideaway Farm is all mine. I paid for it outright – Dennis had no claim on it at all. Dennis kept his corporate businessman’s flat in town. He came down here at weekends or whenever he was in England after we got married, but he loathed it. It was never his home; Hideaway has always been mine.’

  Oh, blimey… Ella pushed toast round her plate, how wrong had she got this?

  ‘If you cry I’ll join you, so don’t.’ Poll laughed. ‘Please don’t look so sad. It’s all OK now. It’s worked out so well. My parents might have been hard and austere, but they were also very astute with their money. No, OK – let’s be honest here – they were as tight as a duck’s thingamabob. They never spent a penny they didn’t have to. I had no new clothes, very few toys, no treats, no holidays – and neither did they.’

  ‘That still sounds like a pretty gruesome life to me. Far from OK.’

  ‘Well, maybe, but it all worked out brilliantly. I was so lucky. You see, when they died, the mausoleum I grew up in sold for a small fortune, and as the only child of only children I inherited everything. I didn’t, don’t, and never will, need a penny from Dennis.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Another assumption bit the dust.

  ‘Living on a farm was the dream that kept me going throughout my growing-up years and beyond,’ Poll said. ‘All through my isolated childhood unhappiness, I read all the time, and simply adored Enid Blyton. I wanted to escape to the sort of life her fictional children had. I wanted to live on a farm. In the country. It was the most wonderful thing I could imagine – all that peace and quiet and happiness and lots of animals, and cosiness and blissful freedom, and being surrounded by kind people who actually liked me. All the things I’d never had.’

  Ella, who had had all those things all her life without question, albeit without the idyllic rural setting, bit her lip. ‘Yes, I can imagine – and I’m so sorry – but so pleased that things have worked out for you now.’ She leaned across the table, picked up a random crayon and helped George colour the Fat Controller in lime green. ‘And that’s why you want to help others in a similar position?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Poll beamed. ‘I know what it’s like to be so far down that you can’t see any way up and would give your eye teeth for a –’

  ‘Fairy godmother? Like Trixie Pepper?’ Ella giggled.

  ‘Well, perhaps not quite a fairy godmother,’ Poll chuckled, ‘but yes, something like that… Anyway, that’s my story. What about yours?’

  ‘Mine? You know all about mine.’

  Poll ran her hands through her wild hair. ‘Phew – I’m baking already. This is going to be a real humdinger of a day, I reckon. And no, I don’t. I know nothing at all about the, um, boyfriend. Of course you don’t have to tell me…’

  Mark… Ella sighed. What could she possibly say about Mark? She played for time by helping George, bored with colouring-in, scramble from the table and watched him as he trotted happily across to his dirt pit again.

  ‘OK… Mark’s funny and lively and sort of cute-looking. We’ve been going out for two years…’ She stopped and stared up at the cloudless blue sky. ‘And we’ve reached a sort of impasse in our relationship.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Poll pulled a sympathetic face. ‘Has he met someone else?’

  ‘Nooo, nothing so simple.’ Ella sighed. ‘It was just after two years we were going nowhere. He – Mark – was just happy to let things drift on in their usual routine – you know, some time spent together, other time spent apart – so he still had his football and nights out with his mates and I did girly stuff with my friends, but…’

  ‘It wasn’t going any further along the commitment route? And you wanted it to?’

  ‘Yes… No – I honestly don’t know, but it couldn’t just stay like it was for ever and he’d never discuss it.’

  ‘Do you love him?’

  Ella stared at the sky again. ‘Yes… well, yes, I love him. But I’m not sure if I’m in love with him any more… because… because of other stuff… and I think if I really, really loved him I wouldn’t have chosen to be here now away from him for three months, would I?’

  Poll spread her hands wide. ‘I’m hardly a relationship expert, am I? But I’d say probably not, unless there was a really good reason.’

  ‘Oh, yes, there’s a really good reason.’

  ‘Now I do feel guilty about probing.’ Poll leaned across the table and patted Ella’s hand. ‘Please don’t tell me anything else if you don’t want to.’

  Ella shrugged. ‘It’s OK. It’s nothing sordid. It’s just that Mark simply doesn’t understand why I’ve always wanted to work with children. Doesn’t understand why I want my own children. Couldn’t understand why I’d want to give up a lucrative sales career for looking after other people’s children.’

  ‘Ah, right – tricky.’ Poll nodded. ‘And does he want children too, eventually?’

  Ella shook her head. ‘No. And that is the main problem. Not just that he wasn’t showing any signs of wanting to settle down and enjoys being one of the lads, but he said he hadn’t given much thought to marriage and even less to having a family.’ She stopped. ‘Actually, he said he doesn’t like children much. And, even if we did move in together or get married he wasn’t keen on having a family…’

  ‘Ah, tough one. But you didn’t want to end the relationship?’

  ‘No. Neither of us did. So we agreed on this break to be apart for a while and try to sort things out.’

  ‘But wasn’t it a bit drastic? Throwing up your job? Moving away? Couldn’t you just have agreed to not see one another for three months?’

  Ella shook her head. ‘We work – worked – together. In adjoining offices. I had to get right away. And anyway, this way I also get to fulfil my dream of working with children.’

  ‘Which,’ Poll said, ‘you seem to be born to do if the way you and George have clicked is anything to go by. But if you and Mark discover that you can’t live without one another then you’ll make some sort of compromise about the rest of it?’

  ‘Something like that.’ Ella smiled sadly. ‘And the trouble is that my parents and my sister and most of my friends think he’s right and I’m wrong. They simply couldn’t understand why I was actually envious of the young girls congregating in the shopping precinct with their buggies and their gorgeous babies.’

  ‘Oh, I can,’ Poll said quietly. ‘Not that my opinion stands for much, of course. But yes, I know only too well what it’s like to yearn so much for something you think you’ll never have… Oh, Ella – not that I want you to go – but I hope your Mark will realise what he’s going to lose and at the end of the three months you’ll fall into one another’s arms…’

  ‘And live happily ever after?’ Ella sighed. ‘Yeah, well, maybe… maybe not… In the meantime, we’ll stay in touch while I’m here and talk about anything and everything – except the whole career-change/settling-down/ having babies thing, that’s definitely a no-go zone.’

  ‘We’re a pretty pair, aren’t we?’ Poll smiled gently.

  Ella shook her head. ‘My problems are nothing compared to what you’ve been through. Anyway, I’d really appreciate it if you kept this between us. I mean, I’m happy to let everyone know that Mark’s my boyfriend and we’re having a break, but not the reasons behind it.’

  ‘I won’t say a word,’ Poll promised. ‘And you can always invite him down for a visit.’

  ‘No w
ay!’ Ella was vehement. ‘That would defeat the whole object. We have to stay apart and see what happens to us and how we feel and – Oh, hi.’

  ‘Hi.’ Ash, barefooted and looking devastatingly dishevelled in jeans and T-shirt, stood in the kitchen doorway, blinking. ‘I seem to have slept in. What a fabulous morning!’

  ‘Come and have coffee and juice –’ Poll pushed her chair back ‘– and I’ll go and scramble some more eggs.’

  ‘Stay there, Poll, please. I can do it,’ Ash protested.

  Poll laughed. ‘No way. Not today. And as Ella will tell you, you’re going to earn your breakfast because I’m turning you both loose on the joys of shopping in Hazy Hassocks.’

  Chapter Ten

  Ella drove carefully away from Hideaway Farm. They’d decided to take her car as Ash’s was apparently prone to breaking down without warning.

  ‘As soon as I’ve got a job,’ he said cheerfully from the passenger seat as they manoeuvred the twists and turns of Cattle Drovers Passage, ‘I’ll get it fixed. I prefer to drive – I’m not the greatest pass– oh, mind that bend. That was a bit close.’

  ‘And you can get out and walk if you’re going to criticise my driving,’ Ella snorted, leaning down and racking up the air con. ‘You’re only here to act as tour guide and sat nav, OK?’

  ‘Sorry – self-preservation. Hey, look at the road, and watch the hedge!’

  George chuckled from his booster seat in the back.

  ‘See?’ Ash said cheerfully. ‘Male solidarity. George agrees with me. Women drivers – huh!’

  ‘Right.’ Ella braked sharply and glared at him. ‘Not funny. Now, are you going to shut up and give me sensible directions or am I going to kick you out?’

  George chuckled some more.

  Ash laughed. ‘Sorry – no, really. OK – turn right down here, I think, towards Fiddlesticks… Aaargh! Too fast!’

  Laughing, she thumped him.

  As she steered the car slowly along the single-track lanes, head-high with shepherd’s purse, moon daisies and dog roses, with the sun spiralling higher and hotter, and the delightful George singing happily behind her and Ash – OK, yes, also delightful – beside her, Ella smiled to herself. As sorting-out-emotional-life-crises went, so far, this one would take some beating.

  ‘Poll said you were fairly local,’ she said as Ash slumped beside her, hands over his eyes, peering exaggeratedly between his fingers, groaning and making George rock with laughter. ‘So you should know the way well, shouldn’t you?’

  ‘Local as in Newbury,’ Ash said. ‘Miles from here. And I’ve lived in Reading too. OK, still Berkshire, but not much use for finding my way round these unmarked lanes. Although I do know my way to Winterbrook, which is the nearest large town to here.’

  ‘Is it? So why aren’t we going there for shopping? Why are we going to Hazy Hassocks?’

  George chattered loudly from the back seat.

  ‘Ah, right.’ Ella nodded. ‘That makes sense.’

  ‘Does it?’ Ash frowned. ‘Do you and George speak the same language, then? Ah – slow down! No, seriously, slow down – next turning on the left. Left! LEFT!’

  Ella skilfully manoeuvred the car round a sudden right-angled bend and took an immediate left with ease. ‘There? See? Perfect. And yes, George and I understand each other very well. And he says Poll always shops at Hazy Hassocks because she likes Big Sava and they go to Patsy’s Pantry for a milkshake and a sticky cake.’

  Ash shook his head. ‘He didn’t say all that.’

  ‘Nah, not all of it. Poll told me some of it before we left. Oh, we’ve reached a crossroads… Now where?’

  Ash peered through the windscreen. ‘Um, straight on?’

  ‘You don’t know, do you?’

  ‘Nope. But straight on seems safer than veering ever deeper into the hinterland. Now, remember, take it steady.’

  Ella wrinkled her nose, poked out her tongue and took it steady.

  Miraculously, a mere fifteen minutes later they reached civilisation.

  ‘Oh,’ she said in surprise, looking around at the bustling village of Hazy Hassocks, ‘it’s lovely.’

  Hazy Hassocks High Street curled and curved from the Faery Glen public house at one end to the dental surgery at the other, beneath a canopy of stately sycamores, passing the odd collection of shops – some crookedly ancient and half-timbered, others modern and plate-glass-fronted like Big Sava – along the way.

  Ash nodded. ‘And I bet you can get practically everything anyone could ever want here. No chains or big names, of course, and no designer outlets – which might be a bit of a drawback for you, you being a city girl and therefore a shopaholic, of course.’

  ‘Blimey,’ Ella sighed as they nipped niftily into a suddenly vacant space in Big Sava’s car park – a move that made Ash yell and George laugh, ‘do you have any other stereotypical remarks you’d like to offload?’

  ‘Not at the moment, thank you.’ He grinned at her.

  She looked away quickly and concentrated on finding Poll’s shopping list and a massive collection of bags-for-life.

  Actually, Ash was right; the bucolic Hazy Hassocks shops would no doubt scandalise her London friends, but for country-living necessities and impulse buys alike, the bustling High Street probably had it all.

  Ash scrambled from the passenger seat and released George from his confines. Ella tried really, really hard not to stare at his long, lean body.

  She sighed as she locked the car. Ash was simply divine. Sexy, friendly, funny and intelligent. And beautifully un-gay. And living under the same roof.

  What more could a girl ask for? Not a lot in her opinion. But no doubt he’d soon be spending his days job-seeking and his nights – huh! – well, Ella could only imagine his nights would be spent ogling the exotic and erotic Onyx as she undulated round a pole or bounced pneumatically on a lap or something.

  It was an image she tried hard to ignore. And of course, there was Mark…

  ‘OK,’ Ash said, his hand holding George’s. ‘Shopping first? Or this milkshake and sticky bun thing?’

  Ella’s heart turned over as she looked at Ash and George. Beautiful man and beautiful child – they looked so perfect together. Clearly most of the hot and harassed women shoppers thought so, the way they cast longing second glances in Ash’s direction. Treacherously she thought no one had ever ogled Mark like that, and even more treacherously she hoped people would think they were a family. How wonderful would that be?

  She dragged herself back from her impossible-dream fantasy. ‘Oh, er, we’ll leave that to George, shall we?’

  George chattered loudly and started to tug Ash away from Big Sava.

  ‘OK.’ Ella laughed, catching George’s free hand, delighted as he swung backwards and forwards between them. ‘Decision made. Milkshake first, obviously. Shopping for the feast to celebrate the arrival of Billy Booker and Trixie Pepper second.’

  ‘I wonder what they’ll really be like?’ Ash said as they negotiated a knot of women in floral frocks and sturdy sandals, who also gave him covetous and appreciative glances. ‘I wonder what difference they’ll make?’

  ‘None, according to Poll. I’m still reserving my judgement.’

  ‘They won’t be a problem,’ Poll had said airily earlier that morning as Ella had got George cleaned up after the quarrying in preparation for the shopping expedition. ‘We’re already getting along really well, Ash has settled in nicely, so why should Billy and Trixie make any difference? Goodness – there’s loads of room for all of us to live together. Trixie and Billy will fit in beautifully, you’ll see. It’ll only be like having the large family that Hideaway was designed for.’

  And Ella had laughed. Because surely no family, whatever the size and however dysfunctional, had ever included so many disparate and desperate people?

  Oh well, this break was only for three months, so if it was all unbearable when Trixie and Billy joined them, it wouldn’t be for ever, would it? She’d be leaving them b
ehind by the end of August, wouldn’t she?

  But, she thought as they ran and swung and swooped their way round hot shoppers along the High Street, would she be able to easily walk away from the adorable George, and the animals, the ditzy but lovely Poll – and even the glorious Hideaway Farm – and return to London and Mark?

  And what about Ash?

  She glanced sideways at him as he laughed with George, swinging him ever higher.

  Oh, she definitely didn’t think she’d be able to walk away easily from Ash – with or without the addition of the exotic Onyx.

  ‘Where’s this café, George?’ Ash puffed. ‘Are we nearly there?’

  George tugged at their hands as he stopped on the pavement and nodded enthusiastically towards a very pink frilly-curtained doorway.

  ‘Is this it?’ Ash frowned. ‘Patsy’s Pantry? Ella?’

  ‘Er, sorry, I was miles away… Oh, yes –’ she looked down at George who was still nodding excitedly ‘– I guess so. In we go.’

  As they stepped inside, heads turned, conversations stopped, and they were immediately treated to curious stares from everyone else in the café.

  The large woman enveloped in a pink coverall behind the counter, beamed. ‘Morning, young George. And who’s this, then?’

  George gabbled happily, shook his hands free and galloped over to a vacant window table.

  ‘Love him.’ She smiled fondly. ‘Can’t make ’ead or tail of what he says but he’s a proper little cherub. I’m Patsy, and you must be Poll’s mother’s ’elp. Postman said you’d arrived yesterday. Emma, is it?’

  ‘Ella,’ Ella said, stunned that the jungle drums had already spread the information about her arrival.

  ‘That’s it.’ Patsy nodded, then looked Ash up and down. ‘My word, you’re a handsome lad. I’m guessing you must be one of Poll’s other lost causes?’

  ‘Um, yes, I’m Ash.’ Ash gave Patsy his most winning smile. ‘And definitely a lost cause.’