by CJ Morrow
‘Give me Hello, let’s see which celeb is getting too fat this week.’
‘I didn’t get those mags, I got these.’ Sam laid them out on the table in front of Ella; they were decorating and style magazines, tips for country cottages – shabby chic style.
Ella tried hard not to sneer. ‘Did you say you had another bottle of wine?’ She drained her glass.
‘Sure. Shall I put the film on?’
With the new bottle in hand Ella moved over to the sofa and left the magazines on the table while Sam put Footloose on. They sang along and danced until Ella fell over on the hardwood floor. She got up again, laughing and grateful that only Sam was there to witness it.
‘That’ll be another bruise,’ she hiccoughed.
‘Did anyone at work notice your black eye after the mannequin incident?’
‘No one said a word, but I did a good camouflage job on it with make up.’
After the film had finished Sam got up to get them both glasses of water – which, Ella noted seemed to be Sam’s new job in life – and Ella idly followed her, stopping at the magazines now fanned out on the table. She picked one up, flicked through it, spotted an ancient range cooker which had been refurbished.
‘Hey, that looks just like the one in my cottage,’ she called out to Sam.
‘What’s that?’ Sam said, holding a glass in each hand.
‘This,’ she showed Sam the picture.
‘Bit better than yours though.’ Sam laughed, taking the glasses to the sofa.
Ella joined her, bringing the magazine with her. She started at the beginning, turning each page slowly, taking in the detail of every photograph. She didn’t say anything, just looked. Every page showed someone’s multi-million pound home. Every room was show house perfect, but they were all old cottages; admittedly some were enormous, probably several cottages knocked into one, but basically they were all old thatched places with beams and ancient range cookers. Ella finished the magazine and went back to the table for another one.
‘The bed in this room is like one of the beds in my cottage,’ she said, showing it to Sam.
‘Oh yeah. Room isn’t though, is it?’ Sam laughed and pressed play on Bridesmaids.
‘Do you think it could be?’
‘Yes, if you throw enough money at it.’
‘There’s probably enough money. I just wouldn’t know where to start.’
‘You can get ideas from those mags,’ Sam said.
‘Okay, I know what you’re doing.’ Ella nudged Sam with her elbow. ‘I can’t do it on my own. I can’t imagine this.’ She jabbed at one of the photos with her finger.
‘You don’t have to imagine it; there are so many mags and websites with ideas like that.’
‘Mmm.’ Ella got up and brought the rest of the magazines over to the sofa. ‘Anymore wine?’
‘No. Fraid not.’
‘I haven’t drunk two whole bottles by myself. I haven’t, have I?’
‘The second one was low alcohol.’
‘Thank God for that. I didn’t notice; it tasted all right. It wasn’t yours was it?’ Ella put her hand to her mouth, she felt mean and greedy.
‘Don’t worry. I drank no alcohol. You haven’t deprived me.’
‘Do you think I could do this?’ Ella pointed at the magazines again. ‘I mean renovate that dump. Turn it into something like the ones in here. Which I’m starting to love, I have to admit.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know. It’s all seems so..’ Ella held her arms out, ‘big. The cottage is a big mess. Then there’s moving away.’
‘What’s keeping you here?’
‘Well, you. And Charlie. And your new family member.’ Ella said, rather upset that Sam should think otherwise.
‘It’s not that far away, we would come and visit you. Frequently. And you can come here. Even more frequently because I will need a babysitter I can trust.’ Sam laughed.
‘But it’s not the same, is it?’
‘Ella, you get in your car to drive round here and it’s a five minute drive. How long is the journey from here to the cottage? Twenty minutes? That’s nothing. So don’t use that as an excuse.’
‘Okay, what about my job?’
‘You hate it.’
‘I don’t hate the job, I’ve always enjoyed it. It’s the circumstances now. That’s what I hate.’
‘And do you think that’s going to change in the near future?’
Ella shrugged. ‘Suppose not.’
‘But you don’t actually need to work. Do you? At least not for the money.’
‘I do if I don’t live in that place. I only get the money if I live there. I don’t want to live there. It’s miles from anywhere. I’d be all on my own.’ Ella shook her head; the wine was making it more confusing.
Sam tried to stifle a yawn then offered to make Ella a cup of coffee.
‘Better not,’ Ella said, ‘or I won’t sleep.’
Ella, taking the hint, started to collect her things together, retrieving her kicked off shoes from under the coffee table, her bag from the dining table. Sam had stacked the magazines into a neat pile and Ella felt obliged to take them up to her room with her.
Sam and Charlie’s guest room was far more luxurious than Ella’s bedsit. The bed was a proper bed, and king size too, not some grotty sofa bed. She looked around the room and wondered if it would ever be possible to make a bedroom in Spring Cottage look half as good. Of course it wouldn’t; this was a beautiful modern designer house, not some ancient old dump.
She used the en-suite bathroom – something else that was definitely lacking in Spring Cottage, a decent bathroom, never mind an en-suite – changed into the elegant PJs Sam had lent her and climbed into bed. She put the light out and closed her eyes.
But sleep didn’t come.
‘Morning Ella. You sleep okay? Hope I didn’t disturb you when I came in.’ Charlie’s affable smiling face greeted Ella in the kitchen.
‘Morning. No you didn’t. Thanks.’ She accepted a cup of coffee and proceeded to sip it. She hadn’t slept well, but that was hardly the fault of the bed or any noise, it was entirely down to her own fears and, maybe, hopes. She had tried in vain to sleep but finally gave up; put the light on and starting flicking through the magazines again. They offered such a tempting picture of what could be. But whenever Ella tried to picture Spring Cottage even vaguely like any of the pictures, she just couldn’t. It was an impossible task…but what if?
‘Sleepyhead,’ Sam said, trying to get Ella’s attention. ‘I was asking if you wanted some breakfast?’
‘Oh. Sorry.’ Ella pulled herself back to the present. ‘Only if you’ve got some going.’
‘There’s always plenty of low sugar muesli here.’ Charlie shook the box.
‘Take no notice of him. I’m weaning him off sugar and he doesn’t like it.’
Charlie made a face then grabbed his wife and kissed her playfully. Ella felt like an intruder.
‘We’re going out for the day,’ Charlie said, making Ella feel even more uncomfortable. ‘Did you want to come with us?’
Ella glanced between Sam and Charlie’s faces. ‘No, thanks. I’ve got some things I really must do.’
‘Okay.’ Charlie took his bowl of low sugar muesli to the table and sat down to eat.
‘Ella?’ Sam held up a cereal bowl.
‘No. Thank you. I need to get off. Thanks for having me. I really appreciated it and these.’ She patted the magazines she was now clutching to her chest.
She parked the car outside her bedsit and made her way up the stairs.
‘Hello again.’ The voice was low and seductive. Hal.
‘Hi.’ Ella smiled at him briefly then moved to pass him.
‘You missed a great night. But looks as though you had a hell of a night yourself.’
Ella glanced down at her clothes, yes she was wearing last night’s no-clubbing-clubbing outfit but she’d showered and she didn’t have old mascara smeared all
over her face.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, without answering him.
‘Sure. I expect you want to get into your frog outfit for some serious slobbing about.’
Ella blinked. Did he really just say that? She didn’t answer. What the hell could she say? She pushed past him and let herself into her bedsit, leaning behind the closed door and fighting back tears. How bloody stupid, she told herself, why do I care what he thinks?
She did change, but not into her Kermit onesie. She pulled on a pair of comfortable old jeans and a top her mum had bought her one Christmas.
She’d just finished four slices of her famous meese toast while looking through the magazines again – she was beginning to wish Sam hadn’t bought them – when a knock at the door made her jump.
She looked through the spy hole but could see no one. She opened the door and as soon as she did Hal stepped into view. He was holding the biggest bunch of flowers she’d ever seen and a sheepish grin on his face.
‘I realised how rude I was earlier and how I may have upset you. It was insensitive and clumsy of me. I hope you’ll accept my apologies.’ He offered the flowers to her.
‘Err. Thanks,’ she said, holding her hands out.
Hal placed the flowers in her arms and stepped forward and kissed her softly on the cheek. ‘I hope I’m forgiven.’
‘Yes. Of course.’ Ella was thinking that she should invite him in, but then she thought about the poky little bedsit, the meese toast remnants on the sofa bed.
‘And I hope you’ll allow me to take you out to lunch. Today. If you don’t have other plans.’
‘Err.’ That was a shocker. He was so gorgeous. So hot. And here he was inviting her to lunch. Out of the blue. ‘Err,’ she heard herself say again. Hold on, it was only lunch. Lunch meant nothing. ‘Okay. I think I can fit that in.’
‘Great. Shall I call for you around one?’
It was only after he had gone that she remembered Leggy Blond. God, what if he brought her with him. Would he? Was that a possibility? Maybe it would be better to cancel now. Don’t be stupid, she told herself, whether he brought her along or not, it didn’t matter; it was only lunch.
Ella changed into smarter jeans, a different top and found her leather jacket at the back of the tiny wardrobe. She made her face up, careful to keep it natural looking; fortunately the black eye had faded away. She pulled on her burgundy ankle boots; they had a nice high heel on them. She surveyed the result in the mirror by the front door, stepping back into the bathroom in an attempt to get a full-length view. She nodded approval at her reflection and waited for Hal to arrive.
He was prompt. And he was alone. Unless Leggy Blonde was already in the car.
‘You look lovely,’ he said when she opened the door. She wanted to tell him that he looked lovely too, and he smelt absolutely amazing. Instead she muttered a humble thank you.
Leggy Blonde wasn’t in the car which was an expensive sporty thing. Ella wasn’t that up on cars – she drove a fairly ancient Peugeot herself – but she knew enough to know that someone who drove a car like this expected it to be admired. So she obliged and it was his turn to mutter humble thanks.
He never told her where they were going and she didn’t ask. She just sat back in the sumptuous leather seat and enjoyed the ride. He drove them quickly out of town, out into the open countryside then into a small market town. He pulled up outside an attractive pub with a conservatory restaurant.
‘I thought we’d eat in the restaurant rather than the bar. That okay?’ He jumped out of the car and quickly went round to Ella’s door, though she was already getting out by the time he got there. Still, it did show his manners.
When they got inside the restaurant was obviously popular; it was full.
‘Sunday lunchtime. We should have booked,’ Ella said, hoping it didn’t sound like a rebuke.
‘Don’t worry.’ Hal gave Ella’s arm a reassuring stroke – it made her tingle – then he smiled over at the waitress who rushed to him.
They were escorted over to a discreet little table for two which Ella hadn’t noticed was vacant.
‘So you did book,’ Ella laughed.
Hal raised his eyebrows then handed Ella the wine menu. She gave it a cursory glance then handed it back saying that she really wasn’t too keen on drinking today.
Ella looked through the menu, it all sounded delicious, but the truth was she wasn’t hungry. She glanced around at her fellow diners, noticing how large the portions were. Maybe she should have said no to lunch.
‘Have you chosen?’ Hal said, putting his menu down.
‘To be honest I’m not really that hungry. I had a late breakfast. Four slices of meese toast. But it does all look delicious.’
Hal screwed up his face. ‘Meese toast?’
‘Oh, sorry. Layer of Marmite followed by layer of cheese then grilled, though I haven’t got a grill so I have to toast the bread in the toaster then microwave it to melt the cheese. Not as good as the real thing, but…’ Ella stopped talking; Hal was smiling broadly at her. Smiling. Not laughing.
‘Marmite.’ He made a yuk face. ‘I’m starving, so I hope you don’t mind if I tuck in.’
‘No, absolutely not.’
‘Maybe you could have a starter as a main. Keep me company.’
‘Yes. Why not?’ Ella felt sure she could force something light down.
Hal ordered a jug of water and Ella had a lime and soda as they waited for their meal to arrive.
‘So,’ Hal said, leaning towards Ella, ‘do you eat this meese toast in that fetching frog outfit?’ His voice was low and husky. He gave her a secret little smile. Oh my God, was he flirting?
Ella felt flustered. He was so hunky and so delicious, so tall and well dressed, how could he possibly be interested in her. Anyway, what about Leggy Blonde? Ella gave him a little smile back, one which she hoped showed she was flattered – if he was flirting – but not interested in being some sort of backup bit on the side.
Their food arrived and just as the waitress put the plates down on the table Ella said, ‘Does your girlfriend mind you taking me to lunch?’ She felt the waitress’s eyes move from Ella to Hal and back again; she hovered just a little too long, before Ella looked up and smiled at her.
‘What girlfriend?’ Hal said, without missing a beat.
‘Your girlfriend with the long legs.’
‘Oh you mean Phoebe. She’s not my girlfriend she’s my sister.’ He laughed and cut into his steak entrecote. Ella had chosen mushrooms in garlic butter, she now wondered if that had been a wise choice.
Sister; that could make sense. They were both tall, long-legged, had athletic builds. Hal had very dark hair which flopped seductively over one eye and he had a habit of brushing it aside. Phoebe had white blonde hair, but it was unlikely the colour was natural.
‘That is, half sister,’ Hal said as though reading the question in her face. ‘Same father. Her mother’s Swedish, hence her hair. My mother is Greek, hence my hair.’ He ran his hands through it, just to make the point and Ella almost swooned. ‘What about you? Brothers and sisters?’
Ella thought about the family her father had spent most of his life with, the family that took his name, but they weren’t Ella’s blood relatives. ‘No. Just me.’ She ate a mushroom, it melted in her mouth. ‘Mmm, that’s good,’ she said. ‘You’re close then, you and your sister? She’s at your place a lot, or does she live with you?’
‘Phoebe most certainly does not live with me. She’s got a shoebox in London.’ He stopped, looked at her. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with living in a shoebox…’
‘Doesn’t matter. Don’t worry. You were saying?’
‘Yes, she has a place in London but she’s between jobs – actually she’s always between jobs – so she drops down for visits. Frequently.’
‘That must be nice, to see her so often. What does she do? For a job I mean?’
‘Oh, everything. She’s been a model, a receptionist, trained
as a nail technician – whatever that is – a PA; that profession lasted about three days. That sort of thing.’
Ella wondered how she managed for money, but looking at Hal’s expensive clothes, knowing that his flat upstairs was very large and he probably owned it; she guessed there was money in their family.
‘What do you do for a living?’ Hal was giving her one of his devastating smiles again.
‘I work in an office, with a Barbie doll called Gladys and Tiffy the Troll.’
He blinked, screwed up his eyes, which crinkled at the sides, and frowned.
‘Oh, long story. Not one I want to bore you with. What do you do?’
‘Bit of this, bit of that.’
‘Oh?’
‘I part own several businesses. We own SmartCars the car valeting company, some property we let out, a share in a restaurant.’
‘Not this one?’ Ella interrupted.
‘Well, yes.’
‘That’s impressive. No wonder we got a table so quickly. It’s lovely here. You must be very proud.’
‘Yes. We are. Obviously I only have a share in it, but it does bring a few perks.’
‘And SmartCars – I had my car cleaned there once.’
‘Did they do a good job?’
‘Yes. But then I had to take Ruben to the vets the next day and he had an accident in the back seat, so…’
‘Take it back and get it cleaned again, my treat.’
‘Oh, it’s okay. It was ages ago. The smell’s gone now and Ruben’s dead.’
‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry.’
‘He was a dog, not my dog. He was my mum’s, though I grew up with him.’ Ella’s voice sounded wistful. She swallowed hard, tried not to think about her lovely mum. ‘Do you own any other businesses?’ she said, changing the subject.
‘Aren’t three enough?’ He looked into her face as though awaiting approval, then laughed. ‘Actually we have just bought a spa. Bit run down now, but we’re doing it up, just sorting out the finance.’
‘Maybe Phoebe could work there doing her nail thing.’
Now Hal really laughed. ‘I wouldn’t want to be the next one to sack Phoebe and I’m sure I’d have to.’
‘Is she that bad?’ Ella was looking at the pudding menu now, despite being full of meese toast, she had seen elaborate puddings being brought to other tables and was struggling to resist.
