The Way to a Woman's Heart

by Christina Jones

  Damn it, no chance of a quick Friends Reunited there, then…

  Ella sighed sadly. ‘Oh, I do love a happy ending.’

  ‘So do I,’ Onyx said softly, not looking at Ella, still staring out of the window as the deep purple night draped Hideaway Lane. ‘I’m all for a Happy Ever After, but I’m not sure how there can possibly be one this time, are you?’

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  The northern heats Weekly Winner was, as expected, the team of skinny students from Newcastle. The general consensus at Hideaway was that if they were up against them in the final then they wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Still, as Trixie said, at least they knew who their enemies were now: Pink Barbie, Fish and Chips and the Geordie Slap-Up.

  It sounded like a cut-price street gang.

  On Monday morning, Ella, still feeling pretty rotten, and haunted by Onyx’s words of warning, and increasingly annoyed by Poll’s complete inability to concentrate on anything at all and her sudden tendency to start every sentence with ‘Billy and I think…’, suddenly wished it was all over.

  OK, so Ash wanted his own restaurant. If, just if, they won at the end of this week, Ash would have his own restaurant, and Poll would have a fat cheque and they’d have even more homeless people to live at Hideaway, which would be great. On both counts.

  And, win or lose, Billy and Trixie would still have their new homes and new lives here, and Onyx would start her belly-dancing classes, and obviously move into Hideaway with Ash. Which wouldn’t be quite so great at all.

  But what was there for her? What exactly did the future hold for Ella Maloney?

  She had a sudden urge to talk to her mum and dad, or her sister or her gran, but with typical Sod’s Law timing they were all away on the family holiday in Majorca, and she really didn’t want to interrupt and spoil their one longed-for break of the year with her troubles.

  She’d just have to sort it out for herself. Like everything else in her life from now on.

  ‘Ella! The film crew are here!’ Poll shouted excitedly up the stairs, as the still and misty morning, already quivering with heat, showed no signs of cooling down. ‘George has just spotted the trucks turning into Cattle Drovers Passage! Goodness me, I’m even more nervous than I was last time. I wonder if it will be the same people?’

  ‘I expect so.’ Ella walked slowly downstairs, feeling worn out already. How on earth was she going to cope with a full-on twelve hours of hustle and bustle and tension? Not to mention being made-up and having her hair done? Not to mention cooking in front of millions? With Ash.

  George, who had Doll Blessing’s brood, which included his best friend/worst enemy, to stay for the day in return for him being whisked away before the arrival of Gabby and Tom for a sleepover at Doll’s in Hazy Hassocks, whooped past her in the hall, followed by a vociferous blur of little boys and girls in dungarees.

  ‘Lovely day for it,’ Billy said cheerfully, bustling out of the kitchen. ‘Sleep well?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘I was out like a light.’ Billy continued to smile from ear to ear. ‘Once we’d finished all that kitchen cleaning and preparation last night, I was completely bushed. I was asleep the minute my head hit the pillow.’

  Lucky, lucky you, Ella thought.

  The film crew, followed by George and his gang, poured through the house in a tidal wave of greetings and equipment, exactly as before. The hair and make-up girls said a cheery ‘hiya’ and set up their boxes and brushes and mirrors, exactly as before. Even the chuck wagon arrived and parked in the same place.

  Ella, drifting out in the now burned brown garden and plonking herself down on the canopied swing seat, felt as though she was living in Groundhog Day.

  ‘You look a bit surly, if you don’t mind me saying so, dear,’ Trixie said, as, carrying a bunch of wild flowers, she trotted into the garden from her job of corralling the dogs, cats and hens, once again, in their temporary out-of-Gabby’s-way home in the lower field. ‘Cheer up. It’s glorious weather for Ruby Larkspur Day… and look what I’ve got.’

  Ella stared at the armful of tall blue flowers.

  ‘Larkspur!’ Trixie beamed. ‘Loads of them in that far field. Like a blue carpet it is down there, north facing, you see. I’m going to see if the film crew can use them in the – what do they call it? – oh, yes, the set dressing. It would be perfect.’

  Ella frowned. She didn’t care about the frowning any more. Wrinkles were the least of her problems. ‘They’re certainly very pretty, but you’re not going to mention anything about it though, are you? The larkspur, I mean. About it being magical, or about today being a special fairy day? Or any of that stuff?’

  ‘No,’ Trixie sighed. ‘I’m sure my fairy friends will have other things to occupy them today of all days. But if they’re needed to avert a disaster for my earthling friends again, then I’m sure I can call on them.’

  Ella groaned.

  ‘Feeling really poorly, dear? Not surprising, this heat’s enough to finish anyone off.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. Oh, I’m sorry.’ Ella smiled at Trixie. ‘I just feel completely drained and I’m being a miserable so-and-so. I’ll get over it.’

  ‘You’ll need to, dear, if you don’t mind me saying so. After all, this is a very important day for…’

  ‘If you say the fairies, Trixie, I’ll probably scream.’

  ‘Wasn’t going to,’ Trixie said huffily. ‘I was going to say for Poll and Ash and everyone here. You’ve all done amazingly well getting this far. But you all need to be singing from the same playing field to pull it off today. One bad apple can curdle eggs and all that…’

  Frowning at the mangled metaphors, Ella shook her head. ‘Sorry again. Yes, of course, you’re right. And I promise I won’t let them down tonight. I just think, last time we were all so excited because it was all new, and now, this time, I know how long everything takes. I know about all the fuss. I’m just so tired… I can’t imagine even being awake tonight when we actually go on the air.’

  ‘The adrenaline will kick in and get you through it.’ Trixie plonked herself and the larkspur down beside Ella on the swing seat. Ella found herself rocking wildly. ‘But I can give you a little herbal tincture to help, if you like? It worked wonders for Poll last time.’

  ‘No, thanks.’ Ella said quickly. ‘It’s very kind of you, but I’ll just grab some black coffee and give myself a severe talking-to.’

  Trixie chuckled. ‘But will you be listening?’

  ‘Yes, no – oh, I don’t know. I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.’

  ‘You’re in love,’ Trixie said softly. ‘That’s all, dear.’

  ‘Hardly,’ Ella snorted. ‘And, anyway, isn’t love supposed to make you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and smiling and happily on top of the world, and intensely irritating to other people?’

  ‘Like Poll and Billy, you mean?’

  ‘Exactly like Poll and Billy. I’ve no idea why they don’t just come out and announce it – it’s sooo obvious.’

  ‘They’ll have their reasons, dear. We must let them do whatever they think best. Anyway, Poll and Billy are going to be all right. I’m not so sure about you.’

  ‘Thanks. No, sorry – again. I’ve really got to stop acting like a droopy schoolgirl and get over it.’

  ‘And Ash?’

  ‘What about Ash?’

  ‘It’s Ash you’re in love with, dear, isn’t it?’

  ‘No! Well… maybe… anyway, I’m definitely over Ash.’

  ‘No you’re not, dear.’

  ‘OK then, I’m not. Well, at least we’re sort of speaking again. I’ve apologised for being rude when we went out, but he still clearly thinks I’m just a silly, moody girl – and anyway, Onyx said…’

  ‘Yes, dear?’

  ‘Oh, Onyx kind of warned me that there was no point in hoping that Ash would ever be interested in me in that way. She’s lovely – and she’s Ash’s girlfriend – and I’m pretty sure she’ll
be moving in here with him really soon. She just told me not to expect a happy ending.’

  ‘Oh dear. And what will you do then? When Onyx and Ash are living together here?’

  ‘Trixie, I have absolutely no idea. But I really love Hideaway and everyone and I really don’t want to leave, even when my three months are up – so I suppose I’ll just have to grin and bear it. But, please, promise me one thing – you’ll never mention any of this to Ash. He has no idea, and I want it to stay that way.’

  ‘I won’t breathe a word, dear. To be honest, if I thought that by doing so he’d leave Onyx then I might. But –’ she held up a chubby, wrinkled hand ‘– I know that under the circumstances that would do more harm than good, so my lips are sealed.’

  ‘And you won’t try to get the fairies involved?’

  ‘Are you mocking again, Ella?’

  ‘No, I mean it. You might not say anything, but then use the “it’s not me it’s the fairies” line.’

  ‘I won’t, dear. You have my word.’

  ‘OK, thank you. You told me you’d spent your life loving someone who belonged to someone else, didn’t you? I think, if I stay here, that’s exactly what I’ll be doing too.’

  Trixie leaned over and patted Ella’s hand. ‘No you won’t, dear. Forewarned is forearmed. I was silly. I wasted my life on a hopeless dream. I just waited and waited and hoped and hoped. But you know. You’ll move on and meet someone else one day, and you’ll forget all about Ash.’

  Ella stared up at the cornflower-blue sky, mottled and dappled and dancing through the branches of the heavily scented lilac trees, and knew that she wouldn’t.

  Gabby and Tom arrived at six. Again, in separate cars with their retinue in tow. Again, the routine was exactly the same as before.

  ‘It should be much easier for you all this time,’ Gabby, cool and elegant in pale green, said, picking her way over the cables and round the cameras and flicking skinny fingers over the kitchen surfaces and inspecting them for non-existent grime. ‘You know exactly what to do and what to expect, don’t you?’

  They all nodded with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

  ‘And Tom and I love your new menu. It certainly sounds well up to the standard of your original one. And you’re the luckiest of the Weekly Winners. You’ve had a decent gap between shows – and if you win the viewers’ vote this week to appear in Friday’s final, you’ll at least have a few days to recover. If those emaciated children from Newcastle should be chosen, it’ll mean they’re cooking on Thursday and Friday. All in the luck of the draw. Eh, Tom?’

  Tom, who was staring blankly out of the kitchen window, didn’t answer.

  ‘TOM!’

  ‘Er, yes – what? Oh, yes, definitely.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Gabby gave him a withering look. ‘Right, now you’ve all been to hair and make-up, and are all nicely gussied up, I see – red and blue, this time – very attractive, and I particularly like the red on you.’ Her eyes lingered on Ash. ‘That red T-shirt with those faded blue jeans… Oh, yes… the ladies are going to absolutely love you to bits – again.’

  Ash looked, as he’d looked most of the day, only mildly interested and said nothing.

  ‘He got a lot of fan mail after the last show,’ Tom spoke suddenly. ‘Didn’t he, Gabby?’

  Gabby gave Tom a Look. ‘Yes, he did. But we don’t tell them about that until afterwards, do we, Tom?’

  ‘Er, no.’

  ‘Really? Fan mail? How thrilling!’ Poll looked very perky. ‘Mind you, I’m not surprised. Did you bring it with you?’

  ‘No.’ Gabby looked amazed that Poll should even ask such a stupid question. ‘We don’t bother ourselves with that sort of thing. We have a PR company that deals with it. They’ll forward all mail on to all of you – once the series has ended.’

  ‘Does that mean we all got letters?’ Billy enquired.

  ‘Yes, yes, most probably – there are all sorts of strange people out there who feel it’s their God-given duty to write to anyone who appears on television as if they were their bosom chums and most of it is complete rubbish.’ Gabby licked her lips. ‘But Ash certainly has an extremely bulging postbag.’

  Oh yuck, Ella thought.

  Tom shook his head.

  ‘OK, it all seems to be in order here – and I really like the wild flowers – very pretty. A nice rustic touch.’ Gabby strode around, checking and rechecking. ‘I shall be going upstairs now for my rest and subsequently my dressing, hair and make-up. Again, I want No Disturbances Whatsoever. Oh, and I trust – Oh, what’s her name? Oh, yes, Mrs Snapdragon, and the child, the animals and anyone else who isn’t taking part in the show, will be kept well out of the way this time?’

  Poll nodded happily. ‘Oh, yes. There’ll be no repetition of last time, Gabby. Trixie is upstairs, George is staying with friends in Hazy Hassocks, the animals are all securely locked in this time, and Onyx isn’t going to be here because she’s working. You’ll have no problems tonight, I can assure you of that.’

  ‘Good. Well, no doubt Tom will want to drink himself senseless – not difficult for him, he’s got a head start – while I’m resting. I’ll see you at seven thirty on the dot.’

  As the crew continued their never-ending checking and run-throughs, and the lights were turned up to eyeball-burning level, and the sound man did the mic’ing up, and Ella, Ash, Poll and Billy made sure that everything they would need for their Farmhouse Feast Mark Two was arrayed on the kitchen table, Tom, clutching a bottle of beer, drifted out into the garden.

  ‘Poor sod.’ Billy watched him go. ‘A miserable marriage is a dreadful thing.’

  ‘Makes you wonder why so many people seem to go in for them, doesn’t it?’ Ash said morosely, rearranging the new potatoes and baby leeks he’d need for his soup starter. ‘Can’t see the point myself.’

  ‘You will, lad,’ Billy chirped happily. ‘That’s what we all say, but when you meet the right person, it all makes sense and –’

  He caught Ella’s eye and stopped abruptly.

  Ella suddenly concentrated fiercely on the three piles of currants on her part of the table. Just think of cooking, she told herself. Don’t think about Ash, or Onyx, or Mark frolicking in Portugal with the customer services girls, or anything else at all. Just think about cooking.

  Strangely, Trixie had been right about one thing, though – the adrenaline rush had kicked in nicely, and she was no longer tired. Well, there’s one blessing, she thought. I might want to bawl my eyes out all through the damn filming but at least I won’t fall asleep, face down, in my home-made custard.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Gabby reappeared in the kitchen dead on the dot of half past seven, just seconds after Tom had wandered in from the garden and hid a couple of empty beer bottles in the recycling box.

  ‘Are you sober?’

  ‘Of course. I’m not a lush. I just like to relax with a drink before going on air.’

  ‘A drink or twenty,’ Gabby snapped, smoothing down her skintight scarlet frock and stalking across to the oven on her stilt-high red patent Louboutins. ‘Thank goodness one of us is capable of remaining professional, and upright. Oven on? Yes, good. Fans? Plenty. Good again. Tables prepped to perfection? Yes, fine. OK, now does everyone remember what they have to do?’

  Everyone said they did.

  ‘Right.’ Gabby glanced at her watch and nodded at the producer. ‘Let’s get the count-down under way.’

  The pre-programme checks flew by and it seemed to Ella that it was merely nanoseconds before ‘Pickin’ a Chicken’ echoed into Hideaway.

  No one would have guessed Tom and Gabby had just been sniping at each other, she thought, as they stood side by side in front of the kitchen table, smiling warmly into the camera and seamlessly welcomed the viewing nation to Dewberrys’ Dinners.

  ‘This is the most exciting week of our series,’ Gabby gushed to camera as soon as she’d done the ‘you can start cooking – now!’ bit. ‘The first semi-final. It�
��s been a real roller-coaster ride over the last four weeks, when Tom and I have been up and down the country, invited into so many lovely homes, and treated to so many fabulous feasts.’

  ‘Yes,’ Tom agreed. ‘And it’s always so hard to choose just four teams for our semi-final, isn’t it Gabby? Or should I say, my Lady in Red?’

  Ella cringed.

  Gabby threw him a coy simper. ‘We’re all in red tonight, Tom.’ Then to the camera. ‘As you can see, our four hardworking chefs from Berkshire, our southern area heat winners, have chosen the same colour as me. Red for luck, or red for danger? We’ll have to find out, won’t we? So, Tom, if you’d like to introduce them once again, and find out what deliciousness they’re cooking for us tonight.’

  Ella faltered in beating her sugar and butter together, suddenly petrified. Her hands shook. Damn it, and her lips had stuck to her teeth again. Please don’t let anyone speak to her just yet…

  ‘Let’s say hello again to Poll Andrews.’ Tom was at his most kindly. ‘Poll owns this lovely Berkshire farmhouse and she and her friends gave us a fabulous vegetarian Farmhouse Feast to win the southern heat. So, Poll, what’s on your menu for this evening?’

  Poll sighed happily, not a nerve in sight. ‘Tonight, Tom, we’re going to serve you and Gabby an Old-fashioned Farmhouse Cheeseboard.’

  Ella marvelled at Poll’s sangfroid. She was so self-possessed tonight. Love certainly was an amazing thing. Ah well, she’d just have to try to get through without it, wouldn’t she? For cooking and being on telly and for the rest of her life…

  ‘Oooh!’ Tom exclaimed warmly, albeit a touch OTT, Ella felt. ‘That sounds fascinating, Poll.’

  Poll nodded confidently. ‘We’re using home-made cheese in the cooking of our first two courses, and rounding off the cheese in the time-honoured country manner – with fruit – for our third course.’

  ‘Yummy!’ Tom beamed. ‘Right, so you all keep cooking, and Gabby and I will wander around and watch and chat. No pressure!’