‘Pylons? You mean like in the “Wichita Lineman”?’
‘I guess so. The job probably means he’s away a lot and possibly explains why he didn’t come to any of the meetings I’ve had with Ash. Or he was probably too embarrassed after being the cause of them being thrown out of their previous home.’
And he’s probably also a twenty-stone biker with tattoos who plays loud thrash-slash-clash-rock with a penchant for devil worship and biting the heads off bats, Ella thought darkly. ‘But surely, with George to consider, you must have checked this Roy out too, if he’s going to be lodging here?’
‘Oh, yes. Um, actually, no. I’ve, um, made bad business decisions in the past so I left my solicitor to do all the investigations and stuff this time. He assures me he found absolutely nothing doubtful at all. So we can safely assume Roy is as pure as the driven snow.’
Hmm, Ella thought, still far from convinced. Roy had probably simply changed his name to duck under the investigative radar.
Oh, God – not only was she no longer entirely sure why she was at Hideaway Farm, but she was now going to be sharing it with a homeless chef and the gay Berkshire equivalent of an early Ozzy Osbourne.
Fantastic.
Poll fiddled with her beads. ‘Look, there’s so much I need to tell you, but I’ll just go down and say hello to Ash again and introduce myself to Roy and get them settled in, if that is them in the car, of course, and make George’s lunch, then hopefully we’ll be able to sort things out… OK?’
‘OK.’ Ella nodded, trying to fix on a cheerful I-can-cope-with-anything smile. ‘That sounds lovely.’
Ella waited until the door had closed behind Poll, then exhaled in confusion. Well, whatever was going on, she’d agreed on three months’ trial and she was just going to have to make the best of it.
And at least Hideaway Farm was exactly what Poll had said it was in her letters. Digging out her mobile from her handbag, Ella quickly texted her parents, her sister, her ex-flatmates, three ex-work colleagues, and her two best friends to let them all know she’d arrived safely, the decision had been the right one, the countryside, house and especially her room was fabulous, all was absolutely hunky-dory, and that she’d be wearing a daisy-chain tiara and cherry earrings and saying ‘me duck’ before they knew it.
She hesitated slightly before texting Mark. She wanted to speak to him, to hear his voice, but knew it would probably end in tears, so she quickly sent a non-committal and brief ‘arrived safely. beautiful house. lovely people. all ok so far. speak soon. Love E x’.
Then bobbing beneath the low, sloping ceiling, she ran across the polished floorboards and stared out of one of the large open sash windows at the back of Hideaway Farm.
Below her was a dusty yard enclosed by a tall wall, a faded blur of grey slates and old-gold sandstone, glittering in the sun like encrusted gemstones, and dotted with lichen and moss – and yes, there were lots of hens scratching happily about in the borders that glowed with tumbled flowers.
And beyond the yard she could see snaking glimpses of Hideaway Lane, just visible over the wall and through the lilac bushes, and the end of the quaintly named Cattle Drovers Passage – and then, there was nothing.
No houses, no people, no traffic. Just trees, and blossom, and fields, and so much sky – as far as the eyes could see – all wrapped up in a warm, drowsy silence.
It was, as she’d known it would be, absolutely perfect.
Well, apart from the little niggle about Poll, of course. She already knew that Poll was in her forties and divorced – Poll had been very open about her circumstances in her letters – and now she also knew, by her own admission, that Poll was not completely honest.
Ah well, Ella thought as she sorted her pared-down clothes into neat piles on the gloriously downy bed, she’d discover more over lunch, wouldn’t she? Unless lunch was totally dominated by the homeless gay couple, of course.
Hey-ho…
Finding homes for her things in the lavender-fragranced drawers and wardrobe, Ella hugged herself in delight at the sheer gorgeousness of her room. It was exactly like a suite in a country-house hotel – simply too lovely for words. Poll had provided everything she could ever need. Cool on the scorching day, voile curtains floated sensuously at the windows, there were jugs of flowers everywhere, and a small television set and stereo sat on top of a bookcase, which in turn was crammed with a mixture of old cloth-bound editions and sparkly new paperbacks.
How long was it since she’d even opened a book? Although, maybe now she was a country girl she’d be able to catch up on her reading which would be great…
And – ohmigod! Look at that!
There was even a tiny fridge and courtesy tray and a Teasmade beside the bed!
How fantastic!
Ella laughed in delight. Her grandparents had a Teasmade. She thought they’d died out in the 1970s.
Oh, this place was bliss…
‘Ella!’ Poll’s voice echoed distantly up the stairs. ‘I’m so sorry, but it looks as though we’re going to have to delay our little chat for a while. Please come down for lunch whenever you’re ready. George is in the garden having his, but Ash Lawrence has just arrived.’
Chapter Five
As she reached Hideaway’s front door, Poll sighed. Typical. The day which had started so well had now disintegrated into chaotic confusion. Again. This definitely wasn’t how she’d planned things. Her last hope that she and Ella would have more time alone to discuss her plans for Hideaway without interruptions had definitely bitten the dust.
The tall, slender, deliciously dark man in jeans and T-shirt uncurling himself from the driving seat of the loaded estate car had seen to that. Not, of course, that it was his fault. That – as usual – was all hers.
Poll took a deep breath, carefully lifted her long skirts, safely negotiated the steps, and held out her hand to Ash Lawrence.
‘Ash, hello. How lovely to see you again. You’ve made good time. And I’m so sorry about the mix up in the dates.’
Ash Lawrence stopped stretching, smiled and shook her hand firmly. ‘I just hope we haven’t caused you too much trouble by arriving unexpectedly.’
‘None at all,’ Poll lied cheerfully. ‘It was my mistake.’
‘If you’re still not quite ready for us I could go away and come back tomorrow. I’ve been sleeping in the car for a while now – one more night won’t make any difference.’
‘No!’ Poll was horrified. ‘You can’t do that – no. We’re all ready, honestly, and – oh, yes, please bring your stuff indoors and I’ll show you to your room and – ah – and this must be Roy.’
She turned her welcoming smile to the tall, thin, gawky Art Garfunkel lookalike who was emerging from the estate car’s passenger seat.
‘Er, no.’ Ash shook his head. ‘Actually, Roy’s been staying with someone else on a very temporary basis since we had to leave the restaurant, but there wasn’t room for me as well. This is Joe. A mate of mine. He’s going to help me move my heavy stuff in. Roy’ll be along later.’
‘Oh, right. Hello, then, Joe.’ Poll turned back to Ash. ‘I’ll look forward to meeting Roy when he arrives. Look, shall I just show you to your room? Then you and Joe can get your bits and pieces in without too much interruption.’
‘Lovely, thanks.’ Ash flashed the devastating smile again. ‘You’ve no idea how grateful I – we – are. Right, Joe, if you start unloading, I’ll find out where we’re going.’
Coming downstairs and after several false starts, Ella eventually found her way to Hideaway’s kitchen. As there was no sign of Poll on the stairs or in the house, she assumed the Ash-arrival was still taking place outside.
Wow, though – she looked around in delight – whatever else Poll had not been truthful about, she certainly hadn’t lied about the kitchen. It was exactly how she imagined a farmhouse kitchen would be: quarry-tiled floors and nubbly plastered walls, with a huge refectory table surrounded by ancient Windsor chairs, and several gorgeou
s floor-to-ceiling dressers loaded with china, and pots and pans hanging from a clothes airer contraption – oh yes, and herbs drying there too! Ella inhaled the wonderful scent of thyme and basil and parsley. Cooking in here was going to be absolute bliss.
And wow again! Walking from the cool kitchen into the searing heat of the garden, Ella was met by a tidal wave of warm, honey-sweet air and a deluge of butterflies.
In the lee of the farmhouse, the yard was exquisitely country cottagey, with a little patch of lush lawn and flower-packed beds to one side, shaded from the sun by fronding trees, and set out with a canopied swing seat and parasoled wooden table and chairs. It was idyllically pretty, like something from a child’s picture book.
On closer inspection, the floor of the high-walled dusty yard was actually mellowed bricks, with a sort of hollowed out bit in one corner which was clearly George’s dirt pit. Ella smiled delightedly, watching him now as he industriously chugged his vividly coloured lorries in and out of the miniature quarry, helped by the sturdiest dog, while the remaining dogs, cats and hens had all found respite from the heat beneath the overhanging branches of the heavily blossomed lilac trees.
The remains of George’s lunch were on the table, and Ella flicked the buzz of inquisitive wasps and bees away with her hand.
George looked up and waved at her, yelling some unintelligible and lengthy greeting. Ella waved back.
She sank on to the canopied swing seat and rocked gently back and forth, watching George playing, swamped with pleasure. Why, oh why couldn’t Mark be here to see this? Surely, seeing this place, meeting George, he’d understand that this really was her dream come true. She’d always adored children, and had always wanted to be a nanny for as long as she could remember, but had been persuaded to do business studies and find a ‘proper job’ by her teachers and parents. So, reluctantly, she’d gone along with it until the urge became just too much to bear. And now, she thought, gazing up at the cloudless sky, and listening to the sound of country silence and George’s cheerful prattle, she’d made a stand and taken a life-changing decision.
Why did everyone seem to think it so wrong for her to have these incredibly strong maternal feelings? Why should she be made to feel as though she’d somehow let down the sisterhood by not striving for a career but simply wanting to spend her life with children: initially other people’s, and then eventually her own? Why was it considered so dreadfully old-fashioned to actually aspire to being a contented homemaker and mother?
It was not only her family who thought she was throwing away her life on looking after children. Mark thought so too…
Ella pushed the thoughts of their last angry row out of her head. She was here now, and Mark was in London, and they had agreed on three months apart to resolve their differences.
She definitely wasn’t going to think about Mark. Well, not right now anyway.
George looked across at her again and waved a plastic shovel in the air. Ella smiled at him. He was just so cute…
Chattering happily, he beckoned her over to the dirt pit.
‘Sorry? Ah, right… you’d like me to help you with the digging?’
George nodded enthusiastically and picked up a second shovel.
‘Great.’ Grinning in delight, tucking her hair behind her ears, Ella eased herself up from the swing seat and hurried to join him.
Chapter Five
Poll ushered Ash upstairs to the second floor room he’d be sharing with Roy, and to her relief and delight he was as volubly pleased with his accommodation as Ella had been with hers. Poll wanted to kiss him.
She beamed. ‘Oh, I’m so pleased you like your room – and I hope Roy approves too, of course. I know it’ll all be a bit strange to start with – but please just make it your home. If there’s anything at all you need, just ask. Oh, here you are – two front door keys – and if you forget them I always leave a spare one hanging in the back porch. I’ll leave you to settle in now, go and sort out lunch, and pop back in a minute. OK?’
‘Perfect, thank you.’
And relieved that so far Ash’s arrival had gone without any problems, Poll hitched up her skirts and practically skipped downstairs.
Finding no sign of Ella or George anywhere in the house, she hurried through the kitchen, peered into the garden, and chuckled to herself. They were kneeling side by side in the dirt pit, industriously chugging lorries back and forth, lost in their own world.
Maybe for once she’d made the right decision, Poll thought happily, watching them together. There had been plenty of better qualified applicants for the job of mother’s help, but Ella’s openness and honesty about her lack of formal experience had been endearing, and her overwhelming love of children had outweighed any last doubts. And to be honest, Poll admitted to herself, she’d have been terrified of most of the Career Nannies who’d applied. No, it was far better this way – to have someone who not only loved George but was also, hopefully, going to become a friend.
‘Enjoying yourselves?’
‘This is the best fun I’ve had for years.’ Ella, now fairly grubby, looked up, shading her eyes from the sun. ‘George and I are building a new motorway. It’s going to have a special lane just for lorries, and one for buses and another for cars, and lots of sweet shops and a funfair, oh, and a swimming pool.’
Poll laughed. ‘Sounds perfect. You’ll have to submit the idea to the Ministry of Transport. And does this mean you and George are already starting to talk the same language?’
‘Absolutely.’ Ella sat back on her heels. ‘I’ve not managed to get all of it yet, but give me time. As it is, we’re communicating OK with the basics.’
‘Amazing – and oh, Ella, I’m so sorry for all this confusion and delay because you must be starving.’
‘Hungry, yes,’ Ella admitted, ‘but you’re busy and I can wait. Have Ash and Roy moved in now?’
‘Ash has. Well, he’s in the process. With a friend called Joe helping him.’
‘Not the mysterious Roy?’
Poll shook her head. ‘No, not yet. Roy’s been staying somewhere else and will be along later. I said we’d give Ash and Joe a few minutes to get the stuff upstairs and then I’ll introduce you.’
Ella nodded. ‘Fine – but I still wonder why isn’t Roy here helping with the move.’
‘I’ve no idea. Maybe you’d like to ask?’
‘And maybe I’ll just do that,’ Ella laughed. ‘Are you suggesting that I’m nosey?’
‘As I don’t know you well enough yet, I wouldn’t dream of it.’
Ella chuckled. ‘I’ll save you the bother, then. I am. Very.’
‘Me too.’
They smiled at one another.
Grabbing his favourite lorry, George suddenly clambered from the dirt pit and scampered happily towards the kitchen door.
‘I think he wants to go and see what’s happening and do the introductions now, too.’ Ella grinned. ‘So clearly we’re not the only nosey ones.’
Poll stood up. ‘Come on then, I expect they’re still unpacking, but I promise you, you will adore Ash.’
As they reached the front door, there was no sign of Joe outside, but Ash was dragging a final heap of bags from the estate car and George and the dogs rushed to issue their customary greetings.
Ash, as Ella had done, was reacting very nicely to the onslaught, Poll noticed with pleasure. He certainly was very charming.
Ash paused in the introductions and patting and stroking and smiled again. He really did have the most devastating smile. ‘I’m almost done here. We’ve got most of the stuff in. It’s a fabulous room – absolutely perfect. Thanks so much.’
‘You’re very welcome.’ Poll winced slightly at the warmth of the reception George and the dogs were giving Ash. ‘I hope you’ll both be very happy here and –’
‘Oooh.’ Ella’s eyes widened as Ash strolled past Poll. ‘Wow. He’s really fit – and absolutely gorgeous.’
‘Mmm,’ Poll chuckled. ‘And maybe I’ve got this w
rong, but didn’t you say in your letters that you’d got a boyfriend in London?’
‘Yes, well, yes, but it’s a long story.’
Poll raised her eyebrows. ‘Which, as I’m incurably nosey, you’ll tell me all about sometime soon?’
Ella laughed. ‘Maybe I will, and maybe I won’t.’
‘Of course you will.’ Poll smiled. ‘I’m a good listener. It goes with the nosiness. Anyway, even if you didn’t have a boyfriend at home, he is definitely not your type.’
‘Actually, he is,’ Ella said happily. ‘In a totally hypothetical way, of course, given that I’m no longer young, free and single. But he’s drop dead gorgeous. I love dark hair and blue eyes, and look at those cheekbones and the length of those eyelashes…’
‘Yes, gorgeous he may be, but he’s definitely not your type.’
‘Oh, believe me he is – a girl can look and appreciate these things, can’t she? What did you say his name was again? Joe?’
‘No… No, Ella, listen. He’s not Joe. Joe’s the friend who’s sorting stuff out upstairs. He’s Ash. Ash Lawrence.’ Poll stretched her eyes and lips in exaggerated agitation. ‘Ash Lawrence… Get it? Gay chef, boyfriend called Roy…’
‘Ah – damn.’ Ella nodded slowly. ‘That’s Ash Lawrence, is it? Now I see why he’s very not my type. What a shame, because he’s too stunning for words. Blimey then, I wonder what Roy’s like?’
‘Beautiful,’ Ash Lawrence said smoothly, appearing between them and hauling various bags and suitcases up the steps, ‘and the love of my life.’
Poll was amused to notice that Ella was blushing. ‘Ash, this is Ella. She’s just arrived too and –’
‘Another waif and stray?’ Ash beamed at Ella. ‘I can see I’m in good company. Ash Lawrence.’
‘Ella Maloney. Great to meet you. And not a waif and stray, a mother’s help and a willing convert to the rural life.’
The Way to a Woman's Heart Page 3
