The Way to a Woman's Heart

by Christina Jones

  ‘Hardly, love,’ Billy said, looking up from his improvised workbench, ‘but I’m getting there. I’m really enjoying myself in here. And it’s great to feel useful again.’

  Poll set the jug of juice and glasses down, sat on a handy ancient hay bale sending clouds of dust into the solid air, and inhaled. ‘I can’t believe how much work you’ve done in such a short time – oh, and I love the smell of the fresh sawdust.’

  ‘Me too. Budge up a bit.’ Billy, joining her on the hay bale, drank a glass of juice straight down. ‘Thanks, Poll, that certainly hit the spot. You’re a great lass.’

  Poll blushed.

  Billy looked up into the barn’s towering rafters. ‘So, when we’ve got this all shipshape, and the electrics in, what are your plans for it?’

  ‘No idea, really. I think, once upon a time, I thought it could be a sort of accommodation extension – you know – if I ever managed to have too many people in the house and could afford to expand, but I haven’t got anything definite in mind. It’s just lovely to see it all cleaned out and repaired and looking – well – like it might actually be something. I’m so grateful to you.’

  ‘I’m the one that’s grateful.’ Billy smiled, the smile crinkling the corners of his gentle brown eyes. ‘And always will be. And where’s young George this morning? He usually likes to trot down here with you to see what’s going on.’

  ‘Oh, he’s far too busy to be Bob the Builder this morning.’ Poll laughed. ‘He’s been making fairy cakes with Ella and she’s just taking him off to wallow in Doll Blessing’s paddling pool with her brood, then Ella’s doing the shopping and coming back here to sort out my paperwork.’ She sighed. ‘Do you know, I’ve just been worrying a bit about Ella. What if she wants to leave? It would be too awful to even think about, but the solicitor hasn’t sent her contract yet and –’

  ‘Then I’d suggest you chase it up. Ella seems very happy here to me but it’s as well to get these things sorted out. Just make the phone call in case the contract has got lost in the post – that’s all you have to do. Simple, love.’

  Poll sighed. ‘You make it sound so easy.’

  ‘That’s because it is. Don’t do yourself down, Poll. Just because your Dennis found fault all the time it’s knocked the confidence out of you. You’re doing a great job here, love. A great job. And as long as you’re not out of pocket by any of this…’

  ‘Oh, no. Definitely not. It’s all working out wonderfully.’ Poll gazed at him. ‘Do you really think I’m doing a great job?’

  ‘The best. I can honestly say I’ve never been happier in my life.’

  ‘Neither have I. And –’ Poll, delighted that Billy thought she was making a success of something for the first time in her life, smiled happily ‘– Ash has got a job and has settled in nicely, and I think Trixie’s OK too. She sings a lot.’

  Billy chuckled. ‘Ah, pity she can’t hold a tune though… Still, we haven’t heard too much more about her fairies recently, have we? And she’s managed to cook herself some decent meals without setting the place on fire, so let’s be thankful for small mercies.’ He straightened his back. ‘Do you know, I fancy a break from all this. It’s getting too darn hot… so, why don’t you and me take a little spin out in the country?’

  ‘Oh, that’d be lovely but I don’t think I should. It doesn’t seem fair to leave Ella with the shopping and then all that correspondence to deal with. I should be here to help her.’

  Billy laughed. ‘I think young Ella will cope much better without you, to be honest. You’ll just start oohing and aahing over old junk mail and not let her throw anything away.’

  ‘You know me too well.’

  ‘Maybe I’m getting there.’

  Poll tried not to blush or jibber. It really wouldn’t do to let Billy know that just the sound of his burring Berkshire voice sent little shivers down her spine, or that the twinkle in his dark, gentle eyes turned her knees to jelly. That sort of stuff was for teenagers, not for silly old middle-agers like her.

  They looked at one another. Then Billy reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘Anyway, how about it, Poll? We can take a spin out, then collect young Georgie from his friends’ place and be back here in time for a late lunch.’

  Poll looked down at Billy’s hand on hers and then up into his gentle brown eyes. ‘Well, I told Ella I’d pick George up from Doll’s, and he’d love it if you were there too.’

  Billy smiled. ‘He’s a proper smasher is young George. Just the sort of lad I’d have wanted myself if things had been different. He’s a great help when I’m down here doing my bits of DIY, chatting away about this and that, not that I understand much of it yet – not like you and Ella – and always finding me the right tools. I love him to bits.’

  And George loved Billy too, Poll knew. After having no father figure in his life she’d worried in case he’d be wary of having men in the house but he’d accepted both Ash and Billy with apparent delight. Especially Billy. Mainly, she supposed, because Billy was around all day and had all the time in the world to spend talking to George, explaining things to him, treating him as any proud father would treat his much-loved son. It was wonderful to see them together…

  Poll dragged herself back from her rosy-tinted picture of the perfect family. ‘We could have a little skive, couldn’t we? Ash is at work, and Trixie said she was going to “top and bottom” her room so they won’t need me on tap. Oh, yes, let’s!’

  Feeling like a truanting schoolgirl – not that she’d ever been one, of course, because she’d been far too biddable in her youth – Poll giggled as Billy took her other hand and pulled her to her feet. She was several inches taller than he was, but he was so strong, so comforting, so wonderfully kind.

  ‘We make a good team, you and me,’ Billy said gently, still holding her hands. ‘I thought we would right from the minute we met at that first interview. And now we’re proper friends – you’ve given me so much, Poll.’

  ‘Me? I’ve given you a roof over your head – that’s all. You’ve given me – oh, you’ve no idea what you’ve given me. Things that I thought I’d never have in a million years.’

  ‘I’m not sure about that, but –’ Billy reached up and kissed her cheek ‘– all I want is to make you happy, love. You really deserve to be happy.’

  Poll, wanting to touch her cheek with her fingers but not wanting to take her hands from Billy’s, blinked back her tears. ‘Oh, I am, believe me, I am.’

  ‘Good.’ Billy smiled at her and gently released her hands. ‘Now I’ll clear up here while you go and get yourself ready, and we’ll go and have a little drive out.’

  Poll, singing, rushed happily back to the farmhouse and galloped upstairs to change into her second-best going-out swirly skirt, embroidered gypsy top and sequinned flip-flops.

  She knew now, thanks to Ella, that a spray of conditioner followed by a quick blast from the diffuser on the hairdryer would make her hair bouncy and full, and that a quick slick of mascara and lip gloss was all she needed to take a good decade off her face.

  Although, she thought, studying herself in the dressing table’s mirror, she already had very sparkly eyes and a very silly glow in her cheeks at the memory of Billy’s chaste kiss and the thought of going for a spin in his disreputable car.

  Dear me, all those years of never having a boyfriend, then the foolish marriage to Dennis, and then, when she least expected it, she’d fallen head over heels for a gentle, unassuming man who barely reached her shoulder and was certainly no George Clooney. And he seemed to feel the same way about her. What a wonderfully strange thing love was…

  She’d liked Billy as soon as they’d met, and now, having shared the house with him and got to know him, the liking had turned into something far, far more important.

  Poll took a final look at herself. Yes, she’d do. Grabbing her beaded bag, she almost skipped along to Trixie’s room.

  ‘Just letting you know Billy and I are popping out and collecting George from hi
s friends, and we’ll be back in time for lunch,’ she called through the open door. ‘I’m not expecting anyone, and the postman’s already been so you shouldn’t be disturbed. Is there anything you want while I’m out?’

  Trixie, dressed in her house-working clothes, appeared flapping a multicoloured feather duster exactly, Poll thought, like a fairy wand. ‘No thanks, dear. Oh, you look very pretty. No, I’m well stocked up with everything and having a lovely time cleaning and tidying. I’m very grateful to you, Poll, dear, for giving me this lovely home – you do know that, don’t you?’

  Poll, suddenly in love with the entire world, gave the diminutive Trixie a swift hug. The feather duster stuck to her lip gloss.

  Poll unpeeled it. ‘It’s, er, lovely to have you here. I’m just glad you’re happy.’

  ‘Ever so happy.’ Trixie extricated herself from the hug.

  ‘And would you like me to get lunch ready while you’re out?’

  Pushing away all thoughts of an impending incendiary accident, Poll nodded bravely. ‘That’d be great, thanks, if you don’t mind. But perhaps, as it’s so hot, something cold would be best? Ella should be back soon, too, so that’ll be five of us for lunch. Maybe we could have it in the garden. I’ll leave it to you. I won’t be long, anyway.’

  And still smiling, swinging her handbag, Poll skittered happily down the staircases.

  ‘You look really pretty,’ Billy said approvingly as he opened the door of the cowpat Allegro for her. ‘But, I hope you don’t mind me asking, love, have you just eaten a budgie? You’ve got blue and yellow feathers all round your mouth.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Ella, having delivered George to Doll Blessing and now driving away from Hazy Hassocks with the week’s stock-up shopping, stopped at a zebra crossing. Hand-in-hand couples zigzagged in front of the car. Briefly she wondered if Mark was back from Prague. She supposed he must be – unless it had turned into the longest stag weekend on record. With a jolt she realised she hadn’t spoken to him for ages. She still missed him, still missed being part of a couple, but the initial hurt of their parting was fading.

  It was almost, she thought, as she turned on to the Fiddlesticks road, as if her previous life only existed in some parallel universe. And she knew she’d be happy to stay at Hideaway and be part of the family for the entire three months now. No question. What would happen when the three months were up, she had no idea. She certainly hadn’t changed her mind, knowing now that working with children, and having her own eventually, was all that mattered to her. Maybe Mark would have changed his mind though. Maybe he’d take her back on any terms – simply because he’d found it impossible to live without her.

  If only…

  And then there was Ash – and Onyx. Ella had slid easily into the role of Ash’s best mate, buddy, fellow-Roy-admirer, and all round good chum. And of course Onyx was as lovely as she’d first seemed, and had, since she made occasional visits to Hideaway, been very friendly.

  And the solace of the countryside had quickly become familiar, and after one visit, the traffic and noise and bustle of Winterbrook, which wasn’t a very big town really, had made Ella wince and long for the peace and tranquillity of Hideaway Farm.

  It was all very strange. Mark and London belonged to some other time, on some other planet. It was like she’d been sucked into some delightful Berkshire Brigadoon…

  Singing along to some ancient song on the car radio, Ella hoped George would have a great time with Doll’s kids. It seemed very quiet without him and his plastic lorries and non-stop chattering in the car. And, despite the lure of the air con, the shopping in Big Sava had taken half the time – especially as there’d been no detour to Patsy’s Pantry. However, it would be reassuring to get back to the farm and tell Poll that George had rushed off with merely a backward glance and causal wave to be surrounded by his noisy new gang of best friends.

  So, this morning, now the shopping was done, all she had to do was sort out the post piled in the hall and the disaster zone of the three-legged table in the catastrophically untidy study that Poll called her desk.

  With no computer and no mobile phone, Poll’s life still revolved around Proper Correspondence. Consequently, both the hall table and the three-legged ‘desk’ were piled haphazardly high with envelopes, opened and unopened, of every shape and hue. Ella laughed to herself. Poll was the most disorganised person she’d ever met.

  Pretty sure she now knew a short cut back to Hideaway Farm, Ella indicated towards Lovers Knot and drove confidently along the narrow road. Oh, yes, disorganised Poll might be, but she was definitely the kindest person in the world. She’d made not only her, but also Trixie and Ash and Billy feel effortlessly at home, and the odd collection of such different personalities had melded well together. It really was like a proper family now.

  Oooh, no… not again…

  Ella frowned. She really had to stop frowning so much. Especially as Onyx had the smoothest skin she’d ever seen. Botox, she’d reckoned, but Onyx had laughed and said no, her complexion was one of the few good things she’d inherited from her apparently extremely bad-tempered and therefore non-stereotypical Caribbean grandmother.

  However, Ella felt on this occasion, a frown was warranted.

  Having been daydreaming and not concentrating on the road signs, she must have taken a wrong turning after the one for Lovers Knot… Where was she? Wasn’t this single-track lane dangerously close to the frightening Mrs Webb’s Miracle Mart in Angel Meadows? She was pretty sure it was, and now she was waiting in a queue of traffic, OK then, behind two other cars, but it passed for a queue in the countryside.

  Peering crossly through the windscreen and swearing that next time she’d stick to the tried and tested route, Ella frowned again.

  There was a familiar flash of colour up ahead.

  Neapolitan stripes: green, cream and pink.

  Surely not?

  Ella peered through the windscreen again. Yep, it certainly looked like it. And, yes, she thought as she moved forwards another couple of inches, it was.

  Ash’s Maxi’s ice-cream van, complete with its huge phallic cornet on the roof. Parked in a lay-by at the side of the road.

  And he wasn’t alone.

  Ella nudged the car slowly forwards to the junction. There was a second ice-cream van parked facing Ash’s. This one was blue and white and also sported an impossibly large cornet rampant on its roof. They looked like stags at bay.

  And Ash, looking disgustingly gorgeous despite the silly hat and a rather ill-fitting white jacket, was standing on the lay-by, having what looked like a fairly animated discussion with the other vendor who, while being several inches shorter than Ash, was much, much wider.

  Had Ash, unfamiliar with the business, inadvertently encroached on the territory of a rival?

  Oooh, Ella, thought. Ice-cream wars! Here, in the deepest of the deep Berkshire countryside.

  She immediately pulled the car to the side of the road, clearly much to the annoyance of the perma-tanned, hair-extensioned would-be WAG in the sports car behind her, and leaped out.

  Ouf! The heat was intense. The scorching sun spiralled from the road, bounced from the high hedgerows, and dazzled from the dusty verges. This was surely going to be the barbecue summer to beat all barbecue summers. For once Ella thanked Poll’s hippy-chick influence on her wardrobe. The long floaty skirt and brief cotton top were perfect for a June heatwave.

  If my friends could see me now, she thought cheerfully, as, tucking her long, unstraightened hair behind her ears, she flip-flopped her way towards the ice-cream vans. Not a designer label in sight. Nothing more than lip gloss and mascara on her face. Her city friends would probably have a fit.

  As she approached the ice-cream vans, she was aware of a crowd gathering on the far side. How weird the countryside was. People appeared from nowhere. There were no parked cars and very few houses along the route, but there were still people everywhere.

  ‘Hi!’ She approached Ash and th
e other ice-cream seller. ‘Is this a private fight or can anyone join in?’

  They turned and stared at her.

  Ash grinned. ‘Oh, hi, Ella, where the heck did you spring from?’

  ‘Got lost coming back from Hazy Hassocks, saw you and the van – and him –’ Ella nodded towards the other vendor ‘– and thought you might need some help.’ She turned her attention to the second ice-cream man. ‘Leave him alone. Look, I know you must be guarding your territory, but give him a break, can’t you? He’s new to the job, and the area, and I’m sure he didn’t mean to stray on to your patch. I’m sure there’s plenty of room for both of you – there’s no need to resort to violence.’

  ‘Er, no,’ the second vendor said, ‘I’m sure there isn’t.’

  ‘Good,’ Ella said. ‘So, if Ash apologises to you, and you explain to him that this is your pitch and he leaves, that’ll be an end to it, won’t it?’

  ‘Well, yes, but –’

  ‘Good,’ Ella repeated, amazed that the negotiations had gone so easily. She really should have a job with ACAS if not with the United Nations. She held out her hand. ‘Thank you. That’s very magnanimous of you. I’m Ella Maloney.’

  ‘Mike Sparrow.’

  They shook hands. It was at this point that she realised Ash was laughing.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘You. I never realised you could be so fierce. And much as I appreciate your support, there’s no need.’

  ‘There’s every need,’ Ella said crossly. ‘I hate bullies.’

  ‘Hold up,’ Mike Sparrow interrupted. ‘I ain’t a bully.’

  Ella snorted. ‘Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you? It looked like you were being very bullying to me.’

  ‘Ella,’ Ash said gently. ‘We weren’t fighting. Mike’s a friend.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Mike Sparrow chuckled. ‘Ah, we just met up. I’m off to Bagley-cum-Russet – wouldn’t touch this pitch with a double cone plus two flakes. Angel Meadows – blimey, they’ve got some odd ’uns here and no mistake.’