The Way to a Woman's Heart

by Christina Jones

  ‘Don’t!’ Ella and Poll groaned in unison.

  But before they could utter anything else about the absentees, George – not quite so scrubbed up after half an hour in the garden – galloped into the kitchen, excitedly waving a small red lorry in one hand and a large yellow shovel in the other.

  ‘A car?’ Ella said hopefully. ‘Really, George? Is it? A car? And it’s stopped outside?’

  George nodded excitedly.

  ‘Thank God.’ Poll cast a frantic look at the simmering pans. ‘We might be OK.’

  ‘You stay here with me, George,’ Billy said, ‘while your mum and Ella go to see who it is.’

  ‘Thanks, Billy, and please let it be Trixie’s taxi,’ Poll said, hurrying towards the hall.

  Please let it be Ash, Ella thought, hurrying after her.

  Sod it, Ella frowned, emerging from the hall and spotting the taxi outside the front door.

  Then she laughed.

  The short, cuddly woman with the tightly permed greying hair and the too long crimplene floral frock, the double string of pearls, the sensible sandals and the capacious handbag over one arm, fussily removing her cases from the cab and arguing with the taxi driver, was as far removed from being an arsonist bad-fairy as it was possible to get.

  Trixie Pepper looked exactly like everyone’s idea of a storybook grandmother.

  ‘Trixie!’ Poll billowed forwards in her scarlet and purple print frock. ‘Lovely to see you. And right on time, too.’

  Ella sniggered at the blatant Pinocchio moment. ‘The train was late,’ Trixie said, finally agreeing on the correct fare with the taxi driver who, clearly tipless, reversed crossly and roared away in the direction of Hideaway Lane. ‘Then I couldn’t find a porter, then someone said you had to get your own trolley for your luggage, and then there was all sorts of hullabaloo with getting through the turnstiles, and then the taxi rank was empty when I got there – still, I’m here now, and what a lovely house, dear.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Poll beamed. ‘And I hope you’re hungry because we’ve planned a welcoming dinner in your honour.’

  ‘Lovely. I could eat a horse, dear.’

  Poll looked slightly shocked at the carnivorous reference. Ella chuckled to herself.

  ‘And this,’ Poll said, lifting one of the suitcases, ‘is Ella Maloney. Ella is my new best friend and my helpmate and is quite amazing and I really can’t imagine what I’d do without her now. Ella, this is Trixie Pepper.’

  After a slightly embarrassing hesitant moment of shall-we-shan’t-we kiss cheeks, Ella stooped down and they shook hands.

  ‘Lovely to meet you, dear.’

  ‘And you.’ Ella smiled. ‘Oh, let me take that bag for you – oooh – damn me – I mean… Lordy, that’s heavy. No wonder you wanted a porter at Reading.’

  ‘Books,’ Trixie said as they all trooped back into Hideaway Farm. ‘I can’t be doing with being parted from my books.’

  Compendiums of magical spells? Ella wondered as they hefted the luggage up the twisting staircases to Trixie’s room. Encyclopaedias of fairy enchantments? Twenty-three ways to hex your faithless lover? Nine fail-safe recipes to heal warts? Or ruin crops? Or turn your neighbour’s wine into vinegar – or your neighbour into a toad? Or bring on a plague of locusts?

  Or maybe they were do-it-yourself fire-starting manuals?

  And were these new books, seeing as presumably all Trixie’s old ones had been incinerated in herself-imposed arson attack? And how had she managed to accumulate so much luggage anyway after razing her cottage to the ground? Surely all her belongings would now be a pile of ash? Oooh, no, don’t think about Ash… Presumably she’d managed to salvage something from the ruins? But, what if –

  Poll broke into this thrilling train of thought. ‘I’ll just get Trixie settled in. We shouldn’t be long. If you’d be an angel and pop back to the kitchen and make sure we’re all ready to go?’

  ‘Yes, sure,’ Ella said, rapidly translating ‘ready to go’ as ‘not burned to a cinder’ which might be a touch insensitive in Trixie’s hearing, and very relieved to dump the weighty suitcase on the landing. ‘And maybe I should try ringing Ash again and remind him to get a move on?’

  ‘Good idea.’ Poll nodded. ‘If you don’t know it – which I’m sure you do – his number is on the kitchen wall. On the pinboard with everyone else’s. And tell him to be here in the next ten minutes or we’ll have to start without him otherwise. Now, Trixie, this is your room. Oh, please mind the step down.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Back in the kitchen, Ella discovered Billy was snoozing in the cushioned rocking chair, snoring gently. He looked lovely. Like a little contented elf. Trixie would probably love him. She couldn’t wait to tell him about Trixie.

  Tiptoeing quickly to the cooker, lifting lids and checking the ovens, making sure nothing had burned, Ella giggled to herself. Trixie… Not a sparkly wand or set of gauzy wings or glittering tiara in sight. Hah! So much for Ash wanting Trixie to arrive in full panto fairy godmother mode. He was going to be sooo disappointed. If he ever came home, of course.

  She’d ring him. Now. It wasn’t as if it was a social call or anything, was it? She had a really good reason – and Poll had asked her to – and, no, she didn’t know his number – yet…

  Making sure she didn’t disturb Billy, Ella skirted the kitchen table and squinted at the massed jumble of scrappy paper, Post-its, business cards, photos, postcards and George’s artwork on the pinboard. How the heck did Poll ever find anything she wanted on there?

  Ah – Ella grinned. There was the piece of paper with the Dewberrys’ Dinners details on it. So, Poll hadn’t thrown it away… Ella glanced across at Billy. He was still sleeping. And George was playing outside. And Poll was still upstairs… And – oh, hell – why not?

  She quickly copied the Dewberrys’ Dinners contact number into her mobile.

  Then, feeling slightly guilty, she rummaged through the rest of the assorted papers until she found Ash’s number and quickly entered that into her mobile too. Not that she’d be using it on a regular basis, or the Dewberrys’ Dinners one either, of course, but just in case…

  She punched out Ash’s number. It went straight to voice-mail.

  ‘Oh, damn,’ Ella muttered, then deciding that a text would be better than leaving some garbled and probably unheard message, she sent: ‘Poll wants you here asap. Trixie’s arrived. Dinner’s burned. Two not necessarily connected. VBG!’

  Message delivered in a light-hearted way. Nice and noncommittal.

  ‘Ah!’ Billy woke up with a start and blinked wildly. ‘I wasn’t asleep, Ella, love. I was –’

  ‘Just resting your eyes, yes, I know. My gran used to have to rest her eyes a lot too. You carry on. You must be exhausted anyway, after all that driving, then the tour of the farm and cooking as well. Trixie’s here at last and she seems lovely but I reckon she’ll talk the hind leg off a donkey so you’ll need all the rest you can get.’

  Billy yawned, stretched and chuckled. ‘And is she all in pink net with a little crown and a big wand?’

  ‘Sadly, not. She’s all floral and mumsy. Ash is going to be bitterly disappointed.’

  ‘Not to mention you, eh, love? See, Poll told you Trixie was a normal person, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, but Poll’s idea of normal –’

  Ella stopped talking and Billy sat up briskly as the kitchen door flew open.

  ‘Here we are!’ Poll announced brightly, ushering Trixie into the kitchen, beckoning George in from the garden and casting a frantic eye at the cooker. ‘Welcome to the Hideaway family, Trixie. Ash will be here soon, Ella you’ve already met, and this is Billy Booker, and my son, George. I hope you’ll be very happy here.’

  ‘I’m sure I shall be, dear.’ Trixie beamed happily at Billy and shook George’s slightly grubby hand without wincing. ‘This is wonderful. Simply wonderful. I’m so very grateful to you, dear. I don’t know what I’d have done without you. You’re so very kind.’<
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  ‘Ah, she is,’ Billy agreed, winking at Ella. ‘She’s a one-off is our Poll.’

  ‘No sign of Ash yet?’ Poll whispered as George was despatched to wash his hands, and Billy and Trixie sat down at the table. ‘Did you ring him?’

  ‘Texted,’ Ella whispered back.

  ‘That’s clever. I’ve never texted anyone.’

  ‘He hasn’t replied.’

  ‘Hasn’t he? Oh, well, he probably has a really good reason for being late. Do you think we should dish up the soup even though he isn’t here?’

  Ella nodded. ‘Definitely, otherwise it’ll all spoil. If you do the soup, I’ll grab the rolls from the bottom oven and start pouring the wine.’

  ‘OK, but –’ Poll looked slightly distressed ‘– don’t you think this is all wrong?’

  ‘What is? The wine? We’ve got water as well for anyone who doesn’t want alcohol. Or do you mean the welcoming dinner in general? The fact that we’ve all played a part in the cooking which might lead to a case of too many cooks? Or the fact that Ash isn’t here?’

  Poll shook her head. ‘None of them. I mean the food itself. If it was the middle of winter, this would be fantastic, but it’s a warm May evening. I feel like I’m in a sauna already, and we’ve concocted a really hearty meal. It should be salads and ice cream… Oh, why do I always do everything wrong?’

  ‘You don’t.’ Ella grinned at her. ‘OK, maybe it is a little, um, robust, but everyone’s really hungry, the door’s open, the fan’s going, there’s a nice breeze, and it all smells fantastic. They won’t mind that it’s a winter menu, they’ll love it, Poll, honestly. Once they get started they’ll be ecstatic about Ash’s soup and it’ll be all onwards and upwards from there, you’ll see.’

  And, much to Ella’s relief, it was.

  Within minutes, wine glasses filled, they were all oohing and aahing over the soup course.

  ‘. . . oh, this is wonderful… delicious… so unusual…’

  ‘. . . tastes like curry – mild, but spicy at the same time – like the best curry I’ve ever had…’

  ‘. . . ah, that it does. Young George is on his seconds already, love him…’

  ‘. . . yes, Ash is clearly a marvel with soups. A genius at blending flavours… such a shame he isn’t here… more bread?’

  Trixie dabbed delicately at her mouth. ‘This is fantastic. Billy made it, did you say, dear? My compliments to the chef, then Mr Booker. It’s wonderful. You can taste the fresh herbs in the bread and the soup. Now, I love cooking with herbs. I could recommend some of the more unusual ones, dear.’

  Ella smiled into her soup bowl. Bad-fairy herbs no doubt – hemlock and henbane and mandrake and aconite.

  Oh, yummy – not.

  ‘. . . you and Ash must get together, then. Concoct some recipes between you.’

  ‘Ah, we should all have a little bash at that!’

  ‘What a good idea. Oh, yes, this soup is the best I’ve ever tasted.’

  ‘. . . more? Lovely, pass your bowl across, there’s plenty.’

  Oh, yes, Ash could certainly cook, Ella thought, spooning up the sublime lentil, butternut squash and coriander soup. It was quite, quite incredible.

  Great cook – lousy time-keeper.

  On cue, the kitchen door flew open again.

  ‘Hi! Poll, I’m so sorry I’m late, but it all took much longer than I’d expected, and then there was a bit of a transport problem and…’

  Ella looked up and registered two things at the same time. One, that Ash was wearing a funny little white hat which oddly didn’t detract one iota from his gorgeousness. And two, that he was accompanied by the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The rest of the kitchen spotted Ash’s headgear at the same time. George pointed at him and shrieked with happy laughter. Everyone else simply stared, then Trixie startled everyone by clapping her hands in delight.

  ‘Oh! I love it! He looks like one of them old films – you know, the ones with Frank Sinatra. where he’s a sailor on leave and he dances in fountains and…’

  ‘A sailor’s hat!’ Poll nodded. ‘Of course it is!’

  Ella looked at her with deep misgiving. Really Poll was so suggestible, so very easily led. ‘Er…’ Ella tried to force her tone in neutral, which was, she considered, pretty tricky when the sight of Ash’s companion had sent her heart sinking into her stomach as rapidly as her herby croutons had disappeared into the bottom of her soup bowl. ‘Seriously, Ash, what the heck are you wearing on your head?’

  ‘Oh, this.’ Ash tapped the hat and looked amused. ‘Yeah, well, I had to try it on for size and then I sort of forgot to take it off and –’

  Ella frowned. What sort of weird dressing-up games did he play with this stunning girl? Oooh no – it didn’t bear thinking about.

  Ash grinned. ‘And sorry to disappoint you, but it’s not a sailor’s hat. It’s part of my uniform.’

  ‘Uniform?’ Poll smiled, naturally the only person still seemingly unfazed by the hat. ‘Oh, how wonderful – but if it’s not a sailor’s hat, a uniform must mean you’ve got a job?’

  Ash nodded. ‘At Maxi’s.’

  ‘Oh, congratulations,’ Poll trilled excitedly. ‘How lovely. Clever you. As a chef?’

  ‘Er, not as a chef, exactly.’

  Ella frowned again. She really shouldn’t. She’d end up with a forehead like a ploughed field before she was thirty. ‘Congrats on getting the job, but if you’re not a chef, then what’s the hat thing for?’

  ‘I know! Of course! Everyone wears them at Maxi’s!’ Poll interrupted delightedly. ‘Oh, George loves Maxi’s! It’s only just opened and…’

  Definitely not an odd dressing-up game then, Ella thought, her eyes now riveted on the stunning girl in the doorway. Silly mistake – any games involving any couple as beautiful as Ash and her would never involve silly hats, it was bound to be all sensuously fragranced oils and creams and…

  ‘Maxi’s,’ Poll informed the rest of the table, ‘is the latest must-go-to place for the children. They all have their birthday parties there. It’s just like Tom and Jerry.’

  ‘Cartoons?’ Billy queried. ‘Cats and mice killing each other? That doesn’t seem too suitable for the little ’uns, if you ask me.’

  ‘Nooo,’ Poll chuckled. ‘I don’t mean Tom and Jerry, do I? Silly me – of course – it’s Frankie and Benny’s, isn’t it?’

  Ash laughed. ‘Hardly in their league.’

  Poll shook her head. ‘Oh, dear, I was sure it was Frankie and Benny’s. All those lovely sundaes and fab flavours.’

  ‘Do you mean Ben and Jerry’s?’ Ella suggested, a touch tersely. ‘Luxury ice creams? Does Maxi’s do things like Ben and Jerry’s?’

  Ash nodded. ‘It’s an ice-cream parlour.’

  ‘That’s it!’ Poll looked excited. ‘Ben and Jerry’s! Well, they make their own ice creams at Maxi’s, they don’t sell Ben and Jerry’s obviously – but it’s fab. Like one of those 1950s American soda pop places you see on the films. Clever girl, Ella! I knew we’d get there in the end!’

  Ella peered at Ash. ‘But you’re a chef, not an ice-cream maker.’

  Ash shrugged. ‘Yes, I’m a chef, but an unemployed one. Or at least, I was.’

  Poll stopped smiling. ‘Lovely, Ash, I’m so pleased for you… Oh, but you said there was a transport problem, didn’t you? Oh, don’t say your car’s broken down just when you’ve got a job? That would be too cruel.’

  Ash shook his head. ‘No, the car’s fine, but I, um, get company transport which I had to drive home, which meant my car would still be in Winterbrook, so I asked –’

  ‘A company car!’ Poll crooned blissfully. ‘How amazing, Ash. They must think very highly of you to give you a company car.’

  Ash, eventually tugging off the funny hat and ruffling his hair in a way that made Ella’s toes curl with lust, grinned at Poll. ‘Actually, it isn’t exactly a company car, it’s an ice-cream van.’

/>   What? Ella blinked. ‘No way! An ice-cream van? You mean a tinkly-jingly stop-me-and-buy-one ice-cream van?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Everyone clapped their hands again. Everyone except Ella who somehow felt that Ash selling ice creams from a van was wrong on so many levels.

  ‘Don’t tell me it’s pink and white and pale green and has a big ice-cream sundae thing on the roof?’

  ‘OK.’ Ash grinned. ‘I won’t. But it is and it has. I’ve parked it at the back, by the biggest barn. It’s well out of sight. And no, before you say anything, it isn’t the job of my dreams, but any job is better than none and as I’m on a short-term summer contract they might not mind about my lack of references… Oh, and, Poll, I’m so sorry, in all the excitement my manners are sadly lacking. This is Onyx.’

  All eyes immediately diverted from Ash to his stunning companion. Everyone smiled and said hello. Onyx smiled warmly and said hello back. Ella really had to force herself to do both because she certainly hadn’t needed to be told it was Onyx.

  Onyx the exotic dancer. Huh, so much for Olive-with-the-welder-look…

  Poll beamed even more. ‘Lovely to meet you, Onyx. I’ve, um, we’ve heard so much about you from Ash.’

  Ash beamed as well. Ella was getting a bit tired of the beaming.

  ‘I hoped you wouldn’t mind if Onyx joined us,’ Ash said to Poll. ‘I was pretty sure you wouldn’t – because I had the ice-cream van, she had to drive my car back, you see and –’

  ‘And I’ve already said,’ Onyx, tall, black and traffic-stoppingly beautiful in tight jeans, skimpy vest and stilt-high glittery sandals, interrupted cheerfully, ‘that I wouldn’t dream of arriving unannounced and intruding on a special occasion. I just did the driving job to make sure the car got here. I’ll be off now.’

  Good, Ella thought, crumbling one of Billy’s herby rolls.

  ‘Goodness me,’ Poll said, standing up. ‘I won’t hear of it. There’s simply loads of food and the more the merrier. I’ll just get some more cutlery. Ash, grab that chair – yes, that one – shake the cushion in case it’s a bit hairy… lovely, now Onyx, you squeeze in here, next to Ella – oh – let me introduce you to everyone.’