With his attention fixed on the painting, and his concentration diverted from the road, he failed to notice the blue sports car cruising up the street, or the two young women sitting inside it.
One of them, however, did notice him.
Chapter Seven
Ella didn’t usually spend her time ogling at passers by, but even she had to admit that it felt good to be sitting in such an eye-catching car, relaxing and watching the world rush by.
Kate had put the roof down, and Ella sat with her arm dangling out of the window, enjoying the feel of the breeze as it rushed through her fingers. Her feet were tapping in time to the steady drumbeat thudding from Kate’s CD player.
‘Call me Thelma – you can be Louise,’ she said grinning sideways at her friend. And that’s when she saw him. She could hardly have missed him. The streets were empty, so the stranger peering into the window of Ludlow’s Antique Emporium stood out like a sore thumb.
At first, she gave him nothing more than an interested glance as they approached. Then she sat up, and stared intently, because her heart had given a sudden and unexpected jolt. ‘Wow,’ was the first thought that sprang to mind. She hadn’t seen him around town before. He was in his late twenties – maybe early thirties, and dressed in dark, trousers and a smart shirt. A leather jacket dangled over one shoulder. His hair was ruffled and windswept, and streaked gold with the sun.
The car drew level with him, and she saw the curious and thoughtful expression on his face as he peered into the shop window – the face that was causing her to feel suddenly and inexplicably hot and flustered.
‘He,’ she said, giving Kate a nudge with her elbow, ‘is gorgeous.’
‘Who?’
‘Him,’ she said, glancing back over her shoulder as they drove past.
Kate was trying to stub out her cigarette in the tiny ashtray as she spoke, and had missed the encounter entirely. She peered hopefully into her rear view mirror.
‘Want me to drive round again, so you can get a better look?’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Ella said, blushing profusely.
‘It’s no trouble. I can do a right hand turn into Capel Close.’
‘No, don’t,’ Ella shrieked, mortified at the thought. What if he saw them? What if he had seen her looking at him? Oh God. She would die on the spot.
‘Well it’s not often you fancy someone.’
‘I didn’t say I fancied him,’ she groaned. ‘I just said…’
‘That he was bloody gorgeous,’ Kate finished for her.
‘Well, he was,’ she said, glancing back over her shoulder. Her heart was still thumping rather alarmingly against her rib cage. They had rounded the next corner, and were heading down the road to the club. The man had disappeared out of sight.
‘Sure you don’t want me to turn round?’
‘Sure,’ Ella said.
Kate grinned as she swung the car into the club car park. ‘You never know. He might be coming here.’
‘Not with my luck, he won’t be,’ Ella sighed.
She was beginning to wonder how Kate had talked her into going to the Jazz Club at all. It was the last place she felt like going. After a hectic day at work, bath, bed and cocoa seemed distinctly more appealing.
The “Jazz Club” was a bit of a misleading name, since the club hardly ever played jazz, apart from the occasional Sunday lunchtime. “Jazz” referred to the name of the owner, Jason Hardwick, an ageing rock star from the seventies, who now spent his retirement pulling pints, and reliving his youth by hiring bands who mainly played rock and blues, or ‘real music,’ as he called it. The place was always crowded, charged exorbitant prices for drinks, and relied on the fact that it was the only decent entertainment venue for miles, thus ensuring that people would turn up and part with their hard-earned cash.
‘I don’t know how you persuaded me to come here,’ Ella grumbled, as she swung one trouser clad leg out of the car and wondered if she could balance on the high-heeled shoes Kate had insisted she borrow for the night.
‘Because it’ll be fun.’
‘Hmm,’ she murmured, unconvinced.
‘It will be,’ Kate said, tugging her micro mini skirt down. (Even then, it barely covered her bottom.) ‘Anyway, those blokes from London should be here.’
‘Great,’ Ella groaned. ‘That’s all I need.’
To say she was not looking forward to the evening was a bit of an understatement. But, several hours later, she had to concede that Kate had, once again, been right. The evening had turned out to be not just fun, but brilliant fun. The live band had been a local group with a crowd of their own supporters, who just happened to be from her old school. Ella found that she knew loads of people – people she hadn’t seen in years. She didn’t have the time or the inclination to meet Kate’s newfound London friends. (Not that that was any great loss. “Self opinionated and boring,” was Kate’s frank opinion of them – a judgement she made only after they had bought her several over-priced lemonades and diet cokes).
Ella had thought they looked rather nice, (through a blur of alcohol), but even then, she hadn’t had a moment to say hello. She was too busy catching up on old news and long lost friends. Added to that, the band had been excellent, the company stimulating, and the white wine more so.
Suffice to say she had woken up rather later than planned on the Monday morning, and with something of a headache. But, all things considered, she reckoned it had been worthwhile. The gang had agreed to meet up on a weekly basis. For Ella, it was a promising start to a social life she had never really been a part of until then.
She yawned, as she filled some hay nets and then dragged them over to the tap to give them a final rinse. It was a time consuming but necessary chore, since it reduced the dust and spores that were often present in the bales, which some horses were allergic to.
‘Looks like someone had a late night,’ Thomas observed, as he limped across the yard with a plastic carrier bag full of shopping. ‘We missed you at the morning feeds.’
‘Sorry,’ she said, stuffing her hair behind one ear, and glancing sideways at him. ‘I meant to get up, but I overslept.’
‘Not long enough, by the looks of you,’ he said.
Ella groaned.
‘Fancy a ham roll?’ He held out the bag to her.
‘No thanks.’ If the truth were told, she was starting to feel rather nauseous.
She turned off the tap, and shook the hay nets up and down. A scattering of water droplets splashed everywhere.
‘Let me do that,’ Thomas said. ‘You look dreadful.’ He handed her the plastic carrier bag and took the dripping nets from her. ‘You go and put the kettle on, and I’ll sort these out. Go on.’ He waved her away. ‘Off with you.’
Ella didn’t need much persuading. She had felt all right when she first got out of bed. Now she was beginning to feel rather hung-over. The dull headache had intensified to a throbbing pounding in her temples, and the queasy, unsettled sensation in her stomach had worsened considerably.
‘Lots of water for you, my girl,’ Thomas announced cheerfully a few moments later. ‘Coffee will only make it worse.’ He poured her a mugful from the tap. ‘Drink that, and I’ll get you a refill.’
Ella sipped it slowly. Her stomach was heaving.
‘Must have been a good night,’ he said.
‘It was.’ She sat down on an unopened hay bale. She sincerely hoped that Ursula did not want her to do any intensive schooling on any of the young horses. She was not in the right frame of mind for a battle of wills with an uneducated beast.
‘Never again,’ she groaned.
‘That’s what they all say.’ Thomas munched happily on his ham and cheese roll, the sight of which was making her feel worse by the second. ‘Where did you go?’
‘The Jazz Club.’
‘The one on Fellows Road?’
She nodded.
‘Ah well, it’s good to see you getting out and enjoying yourself. You need to have a bit of fun
when you’re young.’ He glanced at the door, and then back to her. ‘I tell you this much, Ella,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘There’s not much that passes for fun going on around here.’
‘Tell me about it,’ she groaned. She took another sip of cold water, and could feel it going all the way down to her empty and rather sensitive stomach.
Thomas took her words at face value, and began to do precisely that.
‘There’s that Vanessa, parading about on Majesty like she knows how to handle him,’ he grumbled. ‘Sure, and doesn’t she think she looks grand with her corn coloured hair.’ He shook his head despairingly. ‘And there’s six horses needing shoes, and no farrier worth his salt willing to come until Ursula pays what she owes them.’
‘She owes them money?’ Ella tilted her head to one side. This was news to her.
‘Aye.’ Thomas nodded. ‘All but Tom Bluntesham, and he’s sick with a bad back, so he won’t be coming.’
Nor would he be missed, Ella thought – lecherous old goat that he was.
‘I’ll give Stewart Searle a ring.’
Thomas pursed his lips together. ‘He’ll not come. She’s tried him already.’
Ella frowned. This wouldn’t do. She’d have to have a word with Ursula. But perhaps not just at the moment. She swallowed another mouthful of water and tried to ignore the nauseous waves in her stomach.
‘And she’s wanting me to cut down on the feeds,’ he muttered. “Level scoops, Thomas, not heaped,” he mimicked, in a perfect imitation of Ursula’s “schoolmistress” tone. ‘What would she know? Those horses get fed for the work they do – no more, and no less. I can’t cut back if they’re in work. It’s penny pinching, that’s what it is.’
‘Well it’s certainly strange,’ Ella said. ‘I wonder why she’s never mentioned anything to me. I mean, it’s not as if we’ve got any money worries. The livery is running at full capacity, and there’s no shortage of bookings for lessons. In fact, I was under the impression that we were doing rather well.’
Thomas gave a loud ‘harrumph’, which sounded rather like one of his beloved horses.
Ella frowned. ‘You don’t think we are, do you?’
‘It’s not my place to say.’
‘Thomas?’
He glanced up at her, and she could see the tired look in his eyes. ‘You talk to your stepma,’ he said. ‘That’s all I’m saying. She’s the one you need to be dealing with.’
‘But you do think we’re in trouble, don’t you?’
‘Like I said,’ he muttered, stooping to pick up the dripping hay nets. ‘It’s not my place to say.’ He shook his head slightly, as he straightened up. ‘I’ll away and hang these in the stalls for you, Miss Ella.’
‘Thanks, Thomas,’ she said.
She winced, and wished, not for the first time, that she didn’t have such a blinding headache. She could barely think straight. Why would Ursula keep something as important as money worries from her? That’s if she had money worries, and it wasn’t just a figment of Thomas’s over-active imagination.
She’d never said a word to her about any problems with the farrier either. Yet a good working relationship with their farrier was essential, particularly considering the number of horses they had at the stables. With the livery business alone, he could be with them every week.
Perhaps Thomas was right. Perhaps she should have a chat with Ursula about the business side of things.
A chat with Ursula, however, was invariably one-sided, as Ella found, much to her annoyance. Her stepmother seemed to have perfected the art of dismissing any topic she didn’t wish to discuss with the air of a politician at a press conference.
‘Well of course it’s difficult to get a farrier, darling. It’s the show season,’ she said. ‘It’s their busiest time of year. How was I to know that Mr Bluntesham was going to put his back out?’
Because he’s ancient, and should have retired years ago, Ella thought crossly.
‘And the reason I asked Thomas to cut back on the feeds was because of the recent flush of new grass. You know how rich that can be,’ she added, implying that if she didn’t, then she jolly well should. ‘We don’t want any of our horses coming down with laminitis, now do we?’
It was all perfectly feasible, Ella thought. Farriers were hard to get at this time of year, and horses on lush grazing didn’t need as much hard feed as usual. So Thomas’s concerns were easily explained. But something wasn’t adding up.
Despite her headache, which was turning out to be an unbelievably gruesome hangover of the worst variety, she had the strangest feeling that Ursula was keeping something back from her. She was being decidedly cagey – dismissive even. And when she had suggested taking a look at the books, Ursula had said they were with the accountant. Yet she was sure she had seen them in the office.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Ella said. ‘The records will be on the computer, anyway.’
‘Yes, of course, dear,’ Ursula nodded. ‘They will be, won’t they? Oh, but you can’t use it now,’ she added, scurrying after her into the study.
‘I can’t?’
‘No. No, I’m in the middle of something. Schedules and things,’ she said, deliberately switching off the monitor as she spoke.
Ella didn’t have a clue if she was being truthful, or just downright evasive. ‘I’ll go through them later, then,’ she said. (Hopefully, when her headache had eased off a bit.)
‘Yes. Yes, you do that,’ Ursula said. ‘I’ll let you know when I’m finished in here. But there’s really nothing to worry about,’ she added, giving her a forced smile. ‘Everything’s fine.’
Ella decided to reserve judgement on that until she had studied the accounts for herself. In the meantime, she would make a few discreet enquiries of her own – and that included contacting some of the local farriers the stables had employed over the past few months.
The results were not very reassuring. Of the two farriers she managed to get hold of, both confirmed that they were owed money. One man hadn’t been paid for the remedial work he had done three months previously, and confirmed that he would not be coming back to Hollyfield Stables. Neither, it seemed, would the other man. ‘Not unless I’m paid in advance,’ he added.
‘I’ll write you a cheque myself,’ Ella said.
‘No way, love,’ he said. ‘It’s cash or nothing. I’m not taking any more rubber cheques.’
‘Cash, then,’ she agreed. ‘But can you come this week? I’ve got six horses that need doing?’
‘I could do them on Thursday,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a slack day. Mind you, I was planning to take the wife shopping…’
‘Oh, please,’ Ella said.
‘Yeah, I suppose,’ he said at last. ‘But it’s got to be cash.’
‘Of course.’
‘Right then. I’ll see you about nine thirty.’
Ella replaced the receiver with a scowl. How could Ursula have forgotten to pay them? Even worse, how had she managed to give them a cheque that bounced?
Surely their credit status with the bank was better than that?
‘Darling, it was merely an oversight,’ Ursula assured her firmly. (For some reason her stepmother didn’t see it as any great disaster.) ‘We had a slight cash flow problem that month. If I recall correctly, we had payments to the insurance company, and the feed merchant, plus the new loan payments on the sand school. All the silly man had to do was return the cheque to me and I would have written him another one.’
‘But his bank charged him for it.’
‘What can I say?’ Ursula sniffed.
‘Well, sorry might help.’
‘Fine, right. Well, I’ll apologise to him. Thursday you say?’ She flicked noisily through the pages of her desk diary. ‘See. I’m writing it in here. Farrier, Thursday. I’ll grovel, and pay the man, if that’s what you want.’
‘No,’ Ella said quietly, ‘I’ll pay him.’
‘Ella, it was an oversight – a misunderstanding. Goodness, child, if
you knew the juggling and sorting I had to do to keep this place running smoothly…’ Ursula patted the coiled bun at the back of her neck with her fingers as she spoke.
‘That’s exactly what I want to know.’
Ursula gawped at her. ‘What?’
‘Well,’ she said. ‘As you so rightly pointed out – this is my business. I think it’s about time I became more involved in the running of it, don’t you?’
The expression on her stepmother’s face, told her exactly what she thought of that idea.
MClarke - Green Wellies and Wax Jackets Page 10